#so I need to just step back for a bit I think
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peachesofteal · 2 days ago
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Like Real People Do previous + masterlist Simon Riley/female reader - hospital au CW: none except a prickly Simon
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“Did he answer you?”
“No.” You glance at the open chat window again, just to be sure. “It’s only been five minutes though?”
“This can’t wait, these little suckers can turn on a dime so fast.” She sighs, and then motions down the hall. “You’ll have to wake him up. He’s in call room two.” It’s eight am, but according to everyone on the floor, he’s been here since twenty hundred yesterday, and had a midnight case that had him in the OR until six.
Meaning he just went to bed.
Fuck.
“Maybe you should go… he doesn’t really like me much.” An understatement.
“Uh uh. This is your patient, you face the wrath.” Another nurse peeks around her monitor at the station.
“You’re cruel Key.” She shrugs.
“She’ll have to do it eventually.” She looks at the chart again, and chews on her lip. “He’ll want to look at her before he puts anything in, and once he realizes what’s going on he won’t be mad. Hurry up.” Your shoulders slump in defeat.
“Fine.”
You’ve been on the unit for two weeks.
In that time, you’ve verbally interacted with Doctor Riley a whole three times.
Once, in the OR.
“Have you ever circulated before?”
“Daisy is shadowing me.” Key assures him, omitting the part where you indeed, have never circulated. There aren’t many things you haven’t done at this point in your career, but circulating is one of them. It’s a mix of counting things a million times and directing all the traffic in the OR. You’re not inept. You don’t doubt your ability to learn new things, but you’d be lying if you said it’s not intimidating.
Especially when he looks at you over his mask, gaze cold and laser focused.
“Have you ever circulated before Daisy?” He repeats himself. Key sighs like she’s ready for the day to be over already, and you shake your head.
“No.” Anger flashes in his eyes, and he glares at her.
“Fucking hell. My OR is not the place to learn how to circulate, Keona.”
“Well, you do the most cases, Doctor Riley. She has to learn sometime.” There’s a razor in her voice, softened by a syrupy lilt, and he gives her another withering look before directing his attention back to you.
“Don’t touch anything.”
Once, in the hallway.
“Daisy!” He barks at your back and you instinctively freeze, shoulders shooting up beneath your ears before you manage to turn and face him.
“Y-yes?”
“You have Maverick? Crib B?” Your palms instinctively start sweating. Nothing is wrong. You were literally just in there and he was stable. Cute. Sleeping. He’s stable. Nothing is wrong. Right?
“Yeah- yes. He’s mine.” He scrutinizes you like he’s searching for something, ever present frown affixed to his lips.
“Why is his bili light still on?” Oh no. Did you leave it on?
“What?” He stares at you like you’re the dumbest person he’s ever met. And who knows, maybe you are.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
“Sorry ah, no. It shouldn’t be on. I thought…”
“You thought?” You’re used to getting kicked around. Surgeons have god complexes, residents think they’re so far ahead of where they truly are, attendings love to pick you apart if they’re having a bad day. Not all of them, but enough that there is a reputation, and when you’re new, you get run over. When you’re seasoned, you learn to navigate it.
But Doctor Riley coming down on you is completely different, and shame curdles in your stomach at the idea of making a mistake.
“You’re telling me you don’t know if that light is on or off?”
“I-”
“I know you’re used to a floor where you can do the bare minimum to keep your patients alive until they get transferred, but the NICU requires a bit more attention to detail. Do you think you can do that?” Your throat goes dry, and you stare at him, words evaporating as he repeats himself, slowly. “Do… you… think… you… can…. do... that?” Jesus Christ.
“I thought I turned it off.” He steps closer. Close enough you can smell his dial soap and the barely there whiff of aftershave. Close enough he blots out the light on the ceiling. He tsks.
“Do you think you can do that Daisy?”
“Yes.” You whisper, closing your eyes. He hates you. He hates you and it’s so much worse than just some run of the mill asshole provider who’s got it out for you. So much more. “Yes I can do that. I- I’ll go check on him right now.” He nods, and then doesn’t even spare you a glance as he strides down the hall, swearing under his breath.
And then once in the parking garage.
“Wait!” You sprint to the elevator, breathless as you jump through the quickly closing door-
and right into the chest of Doctor Riley.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch, only grabs you by the upper arms to keep you from toppling over.
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” He drops his hands as soon as you’re steady, but doesn’t step away.
“It’s alright.” He’s studying you. Again. Always. You noticed him doing it the other day on the floor, watching you over the head of his resident, a bug under a microscope that he’s going crush. “You have straw on your sweatshirt.”
“What?”
“Straw.” He says it slowly, like you’re hard of hearing. “On your clothes.” His gaze flicks to the collar of your sweater, where indeed, a souvenir from the barn is clinging to the fabric. Jesus.
“Ah, oops. Thanks.” The elevator lurches to a stop on the next floor of the garage, and when it opens, Doctor Price is standing on the other side. He immediately smiles, corners of his eyes crinkling.
“Daisy.” He doesn’t even say hi to Doctor Riley, just slips inside and leans against the wall. “How is it in baby-land?” Doctor Riley glares at him, one of his ‘I am thinking about ending your life’ glares that you’ve been on the receiving end too many times, and Price chuckles.
“Uh, it’s good Doctor Price.”
“Daze, please. I’ve asked you a million times to call me John.”
“Sorry, old habits die hard.” You manage a nervous laugh.
“You takin’ care of my girl Simon?” Awkward silence descends over the three of you, and your heart thumps around in your chest like a drum. Doctor Price- John, raises an eyebrow.
“Seems like you’ve coddled her enough already.” Doctor Riley grunts. Your face burns, and you stare straight ahead, begging the doors to open and release you. From your peripheral, you can see John’s facial expression change, but you stay facing forward, drowning in your embarrassment, your shame.
“Arsehole.” John growls. The doors pick a miraculous moment to slide wide and you dart through them, Doctor’s Riley response lost as you disappear around a corner.
“Doctor Riley?” You knock a little louder, mentally crossing your fingers he’ll answer and you won’t actually have to open the door. “Um… Doctor Riley? Are you in there?”
Nothing.
Shit.
Cool metal gives under the pressure of your fingers on the handle, and you call for him through the crack of the door. “Doctor Riley?”
Silence.
Double shit.
You cross the threshold, two steps inside. “Doctor Riley?”
There’s a sharp, startled inhale, and then the grit of his voice is drifting through the darkness. “What?”
“Uh, it’s… I tried messaging you but you didn’t answer. It’s the Anderson baby, she’s bradycardic and I don’t know, her muscle tone is off, I think -”
“What?” He’s alert, immediately. The mattress creaks and then he’s flicking the light on, appearing in front of you like a ghost-
without a shirt on.
You try to look away. You do. But his chest is right in front of you, his chest with golden brown hair, hair that travels down his sternum to his belly and continues to disappear into his pants. There's muscle beneath the weight on him, and it all sits well. Perfectly. And the tattoo, the 360 sleeve stretching from should to wrist is the icing on the cake of this paradox of a giant.
Brilliant man who loves little babies, who’s skill for saving their lives is known far and wide, who looks like he could fell a tree with one swing of an axe, who saved your Riley’s life-
and who without a doubt, hates you.
You can’t look away, so you do the next best thing. You slam your eyes shut. “Um I’ll just… I’ll wait outside.” You turn, eyes still closed, and smack your face into the metal door frame so hard your orbital bone sings. You bite your lip to swallow the cursed yell that tries to burst free.
“You alright?”
“Yep.” Your lie is high pitched, and you duck around the door to wait out of sight.
When it clicks shut behind him, he turns to face you. Studying again. Scrutinizing, this time with a hand clenched at his side. “Sure you’re alright?”
“Yes.” You’re not going to let him catch you being weak. Not for a single second. His lips down into a frown, and he shakes his head.
“Let’s go.”
Baby Anderson is tough. Probably tougher than you’ll ever be. She goes to surgery not ten minutes after Doctor Riley is at her crib, and then comes out like a champ, stable after a valve repair.
The relief makes your knees weak. It’s what carries you to the end of the day, all the way through your shift up until you’re walking across the parking garage, broken backpack hanging off your shoulder, oblivious to everything around you.
Then you hear him.
“Daisy.” You whirl. He’s standing there, a step behind you, arms crossed. “I’ve been calling your name.”
“Oh I… I was distracted.” You look away because it sounds so pathetic and you’re sure he’s sneering at you. “Sorry.” He’s quiet for a beat, and you study your shoes. They’re old and worn down. You really need new ones. Everyone on the unit has those new sneakers, the popular ones they all swear by, the ones that look like a dream. Lots of cushioning. You fantasize for a second about somehow making it work out to where you could afford a pair, but the fantasy fades away in the face of reality. You can’t even afford feed for the horses this week.
“Good catch today.” You blink. Who’s he talking to?
“What?” There’s a very long, very deep inhale, and then the rumble of his voice.
“I said, good catch today, with the Anderson baby. She would have tanked without you.”
“Oh, I didn’t do much.” You laugh it off. Because why is this man who despises you all of the sudden saying you did something right?
“You correlated the bradycardia with the muscle tone. That’s enough.”
“Right.” He’s not wrong, but you’re surprised all the same. “Um, thanks.” You finally glance up at him, and to no one’s surprise, he’s studying you again.
“Have a good night.” You momentarily forget yourself. Who? You have a good night? Your manners come back after a beat, and you manage  a strained, polite smile.
“You too Doctor Riley.”
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binmeister · 3 days ago
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Can we get the Saja boys reacting to male bodyguard reader please. Imagine Abby trying his best to show off his muscles to the fans by posing and flexing while reader acts like a gentle and protects people from flying buttons coming from Abbys shirt. This gains reader more fans. Then there Baby demanding a piggyback from reader.
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Working with the Saja Boys
Saja Boys x Bodyguard!Reader | Brief Huntr/x x Bodyguard!Reader
Needed to write more because you guys are so right... now I can’t stop thinking about Bodyguard!Reader reprimanding a bunch of demon hooligans - dad!friend type where the guys just kinda wanna be your friend by the end of everything because you’re actually.. chill?
Have some silly drabbles - enjoy ! (hopefully)
CW: not proofread, masc pronouns, a wee bit nonsensical
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How’d this happen? Why exactly were you on bodyguard duty for the Saja Boys? A demon boy group that your mother would have you castrated for if she could for even entertaining the thought had it been your own. But it wasn’t. It was Bobby’s idea since he felt that the boys didn’t have enough protection from what he’s heard about their fan signing events, so he had offered up you to help them out. Because you’re reliable and dependable.
Yep. Thanks Bobby.
Which lead you to the current situation, standing outside of the building on alert and calmly asking fans if they could stay put and not push or shove each other. For their safety as well as the boys. But then you hear a fan scream out in front of you and you’re confused on why, then you feel a muscled arm swing over your shoulders and you feel the weight of Abs as he leans into you.
“Hey bud.” He chimes out, sly smirk on his face as he lets his golden eyes flash for a second and like he isn’t being a liability right now. He briefly glances at the fans in front of you and gives them a little wave with his free arm as fan service. Then you feel the arm slung heavy over your shoulders shift and he’s feeling up your opposing bicep which makes you freeze - what the hell?
“Oh you’re BUILT my guy.” He compliments as he steps back now, eyeing over your build with approval - what was your routine? How many hours do you spend working out to get this sturdy? Would you want to talk to him about it? Abs was a gym junky and everyone can collectively agree on that.
“...thanks...” You mumble out as you give him a quizzical stare, a little thrown off at his personality as you expected maybe a little more demonic slyness from him but the look he gave you as he eyed you was anything but hunger and more earnest curiosity. 
“CAN YOU SHOW OFF FOR US?” “PLEASE FLEX!” “ABBY I LOVE YOUUUU!” “YOU GUYS ARE SO HOT!”
Fans started to lose their minds a little at what they were seeing, two attractive men performing skin ship? YES! ‘Abby’ had stepped out of your space fully now and put his attention back onto the crowd of fans before you both and his signature smirk was still present on his face as he started to flex. Shirt clinging on for dear life and you realised the potential risk this could cause so what did you do? You stepped in front of him with your back to the fans and placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest where one of his shirt buttons was begging to hold on.
“Let’s not do this.” You muttered to him as you proceeded to spin him around with no resistance from him and guided him into the venue. All Abby did during this was wave at the fans as he was ushered away and he just let you continue pushing him, tilting his head back slightly to try and talk to you a little more.
“Do you wanna hit the gym after this?”
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There was a second instance where you were assisting the Saja Boys, per Bobby’s request again of course because he just wanted to make more connections with other idols. Most groups and managers were intimidated to work with his girls and he really wanted it to work.
You were standing off to the side, once again waiting outside the venue and checking in with fans to make sure they’re alright. Finishing up a quick up and down of the block and asking if everyone was okay or if they needed water, knowing full well how dehydrated some people ended up being because they’re too excited to care for themselves. You’d made it back to the front entrance and were discussing things with another staff member when you felt a pair of hands on your upper back, and then the familiar weight of someone trying to jump on your back.
Instincts kicked in and you leaned forward slightly so whoever was trying to hitch a free ride off of you wouldn’t fall backwards and your arms hooked up a pair of legs that you were not familiar with. You froze. Who the hell is hitching a ride off of you exactly?
“I didn’t even have to ask, sick.” Came Baby‘s voice as he draped himself over you, head coming to rest on your shoulder as you tried to process what just happened. Did Zoey train you to just... give piggy backs instinctively? Baby swung his legs a little in your grasp, enjoying this a little too much but he was fascinated. Admittedly he’s wanted to do this every time he saw photos of that hunter girl clinging onto you and sometimes it hurt trying to get a piggyback off of Abs. That guys’ like a brick wall and Baby’s just a lil guy.
“Ohmygosh, did you guys see that?” “Waaaaait I didn’t know [Name] was close with the boys!” “OMG the girls finally let him have friends!!!”
Fans were whispering to each other and Baby’s heightened hearing heard all of it, meanwhile you were still in shock at what had gone on - the staff member next to you was also extremely surprised because they’ve never witnessed any of the Saja members be so casual with staff like this. Then that staff member was left reeling as their eyes bugged out of their head for a moment, watching as the teal haired idol crossed his legs around your waist and smirked at his fans while he did so.
Oh he’s having the time of his life.
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Then you were called again to help some sort of short-staff issue the boys had at another impromptu event, at this rate you were sure they were just eating their staff members because how can this happen so frequently that they’re left in these situations? As much as you weren’t a fan of the fact they were demons - you couldn’t help feel a little bad for them. Sure they’re not human and could handle it if a fan acted out at them, but you’ve seen how crazy some saesangs can get - first hand experience on that. Your face scrunched up in memory of one of the attacks you had to endure and it was not a great time that was for sure.
The girls weren’t pleased that you were working at these events but you’d reassure them you were fine, Bobby trusted you and the girls could trust you too. Zoey had even tried puppy eye tactics to get you to not go but you chastised them and reminded them that yes they were demons but they were also still idols - the girls were well aware of the potential harm that could come to them in this field. They’d moped a little but let you go after that.
What you hadn’t known was that it was Jinu‘s idea to continuously get you to work for them, he thought if he took you away from the hunters - surely they’d crumble right? One of their supportive pillars was stolen from them by beings they detested. But he didn’t expect to get along with you as well as he did. The brief conversations you’d had with him were primarily professional, you didn’t care they were demons and simply treated them like the idols they were pretending to be. There had been an instance where a fan had attempted to get a little too touchy feely with Jinu and you’d stepped in, pulling him aside and gently grabbing the squirming fan to pull them away from the panel.
After that happened, you’d come back and leaned down a little to quietly check in with him to ask if he was alright. Did he need a break? Was he sure he didn’t need to step away for a second to take a breather? Just say your name if he needed you. Why were you.. so caring? He eased up a bit more around you after that. The two of you even started bantering when the boys were given a break from the fans, instead of hiding out with the other members - Jinu had stepped out of the dressing room they were given and went directly to you. Just to chat and hang out. Nothing nefarious for once.
Safe to say you two had unintentionally become friends.
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There was a second instance of a joint fan-signing and before the event began you were giving the girls a lecture about how important it is to keep up their image, you didn’t care how much they wanted to beat up the boys or that they’re demons and don’t deserve kindness. As idols they needed to maintain an image and you were NOT going to let them ruin it. The wrath of your mother had seeped into your tone and the girls had all nodded along because they did not want to be on your bad side today.
The tables were lined up side by side, Mira was in between Romance and Abby - Zoey between Mystery and Baby and then Jinu and Rumi were stuck together at the end of the row. What the fans and multistans were not expecting was watching the chaotic dynamic that is Jinu and Rumi both aiming to get your attention during the event. 
Rumi would flag you down out of habit when she wanted to ask if it’s okay to accept a gift or get something checked, then you’d be hovering a little longer when Jinu tried to ask you or talk to you as well. The horror and betrayal was evident on her face as you exchanged pleasantries with Jinu and when you’d turned your back to go check in on the others - he turned and smirked at her.
Oh you son of a-
You hadn’t interacted directly with Mystery or Romance much from the last events you’d been involved with, but you knew the former was relatively well behaved and kept to himself. He was surprisingly respectful towards you and didn’t show any major forms of hostility. You recalled the time you’d walked behind the scenes during a brief break the boys were allotted and found Mystery dissociating in a corner, you’d called out to him and he blankly turned to you and let you guide him to their dressing room so he could safely zone out - a hand hovering over his lower back as you did so.
So what you didn’t expect really was for Mira and Romance to be at each others throats the entire time, Mira at least had the decency to thank her fans with shining eyes before going back to grumbling about how she’s gonna kill this stupid demon. To the point that you had stepped up behind her, hands reaching up and pinching at her cheeks to stun lock her. Romance looked up at you curiously, his expression stayed the same dreamy look that he’s had the entire time and he couldn’t help the little cheeky smile that crossed his mouth as he watched you calmly berate the girl in front of him.
“Behave.” You’d simply said as you finally let go of her cheeks and she rubbed at them, expression softening from the hard scowl she had before as she looked up at you in mock hurt like ‘but I didn’t do anything wrong..!’ and you returned that look with a stern one. Figuratively and maybe even literally putting your foot down on her antics, which caused her to huff for a moment before going back to her idol sona as she prepped to talk to the next fan in line.
Before you could fully turn away though Abby had caught your attention, hand raised in the air waiting for you to dap him up which you did so without question then finally stepping away behind the curtains as another staff member was waving to flag you down to sort something out. Mira stared in shock as you did this. When did you become friends with the Saja Boys?
Zoey was next to ask for your attention, she’d been shaking her marker for a couple minutes and it was definitely dried up and there were no spares nearby. She straightened up and looked around for you, eyes pleading when she finally caught your attention and held up her marker in the air pathetically. You didn’t make any grand gesture, instead just grabbing a couple of spare markers out of a backup stationary box hidden behind the curtains then walked up and handed them to her - being mindful to take the dried marker from her as you did.
Mystery had turned his head when he heard you approaching and nodded at you in greeting, small smile on his face before he turned back to pretend to listen to the fan yapping at him. Baby was leaned back in his chair, waiting for another fan to sit in front of him when he sees you and he smirks up at you and nods a greeting as well.
“Sup man.” He’d said coolly at you before he looked back at the fan that had just sat down in front of him. It makes Zoey pause as she looks at him, then back up to you, then back to him and her brain feels like it’s frying because WHAT? Why are you guys being all bro and cool like to each other. When did this happen? You didn’t tell them that you were friendly!
Before Zoey had a chance to complain you’d placed a hand on her head and ruffled it a little, instantly all her thoughts dispersed at the familiar contact and she was left whining about you messing up her hair as you had stepped away again and off to the side to keep an eye on the fan interactions.
Safe to say there were a looot of clips and recordings from this event.
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wrotebymii · 22 hours ago
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HOUSE FIEND | Date Everything gn!Reader
Summary: You are the friend of the Homeowner, they need you to house sit for a month. During the time weird things happen that you hope to ignore.
Warning: Fluff, banter. I named the homeowner ‘Homie’ cause I can’t keep calling them homeowner, Homie befriended everyone, no love plot.
PART TWO | MASTERLIST | READ ME
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What you thought of Homie didn’t really matter, you were friends with them and Sam. Though, you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t think they were slightly crazy—since the group chat consisted of them ranting about their…household objects…and their relationship status with each of ‘em.
You’d also be a liar if you said you weren’t at least a little bit curious about ‘Dateviators’ especially now because they asked you to house-sit for them. You stared at the message blankly, not reading the entire paragraph of why they needed to be away from the house for a long period of time—something about making sure they aren’t on their trail about having the glasses…whatever that meant.
You type back “yap alert” then adding “sure”
Then going back to mundane work life, when your manager snapped at you for slacking. Hmm, maybe a month house sitting and working at home would be better.
You wouldn’t say you’re a hermit like Homie, but sitting somewhere that isn’t a cramped cubicle would be a nice new environment. And keep you from the itching that thought in the back of your head to resign.
After a few weeks of preparation and informing your bosses that you’ll be working from home for the time being, you grab your packed backpack and walk up to their home. You’re about to knock on the door with your knuckles but you notice the…rather small door knocker and gently use that instead.
Dorian was apprehensive at first seeing you, readying himself for an obnoxious pound at the door that would escalate to more knocking when Homie didn’t come fast enough, but no. You stopped yourself and used the actual door knocker and waited patiently.
He liked you already, platonically, of course.
Homie opened the door and not so gracefully dragged you inside. They looked paranoid looking you up and down with aviators as if you’re a spy—shaking their head they started explaining. Something about how their parents are finally talking with them again, and blah blah blah.
“I can’t take Sky- Er…the glasses with me cause they’d probably take her back, and these are like my prized possession…” Rightfully ignoring the feminine pronouns for the glasses, cause what? You tease them a bit.
“Good to know your bank will repossess…glasses instead of like? Your car or something to inconvenience you more” From behind you, the curtains hung up on a bronze rod ruffle. Homie glares at it.
“Okay, it seems to me that you need to spend some time out of this house…and…interact with humans” The stairs creak along with the walls—something from the living room shutters.
You don’t notice Homie muttering under their breath “they didn’t mean it like that…”
“Your house makes a lot of noise, huh?” You ask, they guide you around each room, they grab their luggage rushing out the door—waving at things…then turning to me as they’re stepping outside. The door groans as if displeased, causing Homie to sigh.
You ignore it, better for your sanity to place logical reason to it. They grab your hands firmly, then take off the glasses and place them in your palm—like it’s a sacred symbol.
“Take care of the house, I hope you get alo—ugh just be nice, don’t break things…or insult things.” They say with a wave of their hand trying to articulate their wishes best for you.
“Also, feel free to use the glasses…I think they—well maybe not all of them but new faces are nice, I think” They pause pondering the thought comedically. Their statements and backtracking is throwing you through a loop.
“Okay, I don’t have time to explain the glasses, but if you try them I’m sure Skylar is willing to help you—‘kay byyye!!” They skip away nearly tripping on the walkway payment to their car. You laugh which was more like a huff.
You placed a hand on the back of the door to close it but it quickly shuts on its own, and a click locks. You stand there processing the weirdness of that but to convince yourself you mutter.
“Must’ve been the wind…” Look down at the top lock that you knew you didn’t touch.
“…intelligent wind…” You felt a breeze caress your check—not wanting to stay and stare in one place that would likely make you lose it and probably talk to—you don’t know maybe the personification of dread, just spitballing. You take your bag and place it next to the sofa and the glasses on the coffee table. Deciding that you’ll be sleeping there after you plopped down and melted into the cushioning.
You rather not sleep in Homie’s bed after giving great detail about how the Dateviators worked and how most of their home appliances are frisky. They never said that they’ve slept with any of them but you couldn’t get the teasing comments you’d make with Sam about it.
Thus, sleeping on the sofa no matter how many kinks you get in your neck or sore spots you get. Now that you think of it. How many of your friend’s household necessities are sentient? Also, how does that work?
You look at the glasses on the table that felt like they were inching closer to you. If—hypothetically—you were to put them on in your home would it be the same set of people or different? What are the laws of their physics? Is the object their body—or does the glasses make them transform into a mirror person? Or maybe it just takes their consciousness and personifies it instead of the inanimate object—
You groan and log your head back against the couch, bringing a hand up to rub between your eyes.
First day you and you were already thinking of the impossible, becoming your friend.
You need to do something to keep your mind off it.
Maybe writing out some emails will help.
You pretend to not care about how you felt you were being watch but in a weirdly comforting—almost robotic way. Like a person looking out for someone they don’t really know but need to be friendly with.
Weird things have started happening that you refuse to understand or accept in anything other form than a vague logical explanation.
You were working inside the office, they allowed you to use their computer you ignored when they said “they’re friendly”
It ran faster than the company issued one in your cubicle, you were nearly done with a very long chain email to your co-workers when out of the corner of your eye something moved. You didn’t even glance at first thinking it was from the light coming from the windows behind you.
It happened again. You squint at the monitor forcing yourself to stay focused, then again, then—drop.
Something fell, hit the side of the desk making a wobbled thud and onto the rug. You snapped your head to the side, realizing that the red die was missing.
You get up and peer over, seeing it laying on the ground. Rolled onto a 20. You roll your eyes and snicker. Picking it up and placing it back where it was—sitting back in the chair to start typing where you left off only to notice that…it's completely finished.
You scroll through the email—your email and are completely bewildered by the perfect spelling and even creative suggestions for the upcoming events at the office. You slack your head into your palm, mouth agape as you read through it.
Homie did say…the computer was…friendly.
You take a few minutes to think about if you should scrap it or let it be and send it. Sighing with a reluctant hmm.
Mac takes it as a thank you.
You needed a break and a high dose of caffeine…or maybe something from that mini bar you’ve been eyeing—why did Homie even have a mini bar?
Through the walkway and into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. There were some cute decorative cups by it that you placed on the center of it. Tapping a few buttons and crossing your fingers that you didn’t break it. The air fills with the rich scent of coffee.
As you wait you glance at the cute cat clock on the wall thinking about what you’ll have for dinner soon. As the coffee continues you look around their cabinets and fridge noticing how it’s only junk/fast food minus the few rarities.
The coffee dings. Stopping your search for nutritional value foods. When you took the cup you stopped. The coffee was decorated with a chocolate wafer, a dollop of vanilla cream that spread out into a beautiful design similar to a leaf, and some speckles of caramel.
This was not your typical desperate espresso that the break room had…no…this was art—something you could shed a tear at.
It made you feel guilty taking a sip and ruining the artwork. It was packed with sugar but on everything that you owned—it was the best goddamn drink you’ve ever had. It literally made you moan a “oh shit—“
You slumped your shoulders letting the warm drink fill you, trying to ignore the positive energy that was radiating from the machine. Kopi was happy you enjoyed it. You were too preoccupied with the coffee you nearly trip on your way back to the office.
You look down. Your foot was on the arm of a clothes hanger. Stepping back you look up, eyes wide in confusion. There were multiple hangers hooked onto a vent, cold air flushing out.
You do something you’re not entirely why you considered it: You pick up the hang you accidentally stepped on, dusting it off annnddd…hooking it with the rest of them.
You stare at the hangers feeling stupid.
You question how the hangers got there but that’ll give you a headache. The only thing your dumb human brain comes up with is that there could be a ghost.
And honestly you’d take the ghost over sentient objects.
So, you’ll suck it up and deal with dancing around the fact your friend is in kahoots with their memorabilia and or ghost.
You had finished making dinner with the minimal ingredients that were in the kitchen and ate in peaceful silence before cleaning up.
You are hand washing them because the dishwasher gave you the creeps after you stared at it for a long period of time. You’re at the sink rinsing the plate, on with healed cracks and seams on it like it’s been meticulously fixed with delicate hands.
You wonder if Homie did this.
You smile at the thought. Daisuke smiles at you, appreciating your gentle touch to his dishes.
As you dry the plate and silverware finishing up cleaning. You turn, and there on the center of the table were the glasses…didn’t you put them on the coffee table?
Your brain couldn’t comprehend it—so much so you again choose to ignore it. Slowly walking away while maintaining eye contact with the glasses.
This is going to be a long month.
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erwinsvow · 1 day ago
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you’re running late, and you’re never late, not for anything. it’s your own fault—you just wanted to finish the chapter of the book you were reading, just had to know if they got back together yet or not. 
it was so good that you were immersed in their world and completely forgot about your own—the one where it’s sunday night, and you’ve been staying up each day of the weekend and your schedule is off because of this stupid, fantastic book.
your alarm isn’t set and you fall asleep with the book still open, the page you were on forever lost. 
you wake up because something in your body is telling you that this is unnatural. how relaxed the sleep feels, how comfortable you are, how your alarm still hasn’t gone off and you’re so well-rested. when you open your eyes and grab your phone to check the time, you jump up.
eight am. more specifically, seven minutes past eight. school starts in less than thirty minutes and you haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.
fuck, fuck, fuck. stupid book. they didn’t even kiss and make up yet. you scamper through your apartment, brushing your teeth while assembling your work bag, throwing in the lunch you packed yesterday and filling your water. you lock your door while tugging your sneakers on and leave through the main entrance while you make sure your laptop is in your bag. and in all the commotion, you don’t even realize that someone held the door open for you.
you mutter thank you while running out, checking the time again, turning back only to see a glimpse of a broad back and salt and pepper curls. 
fuck. phantom neighbor. and you didn’t even get to see what he looked like because you’re so behind, possibly for the first time since you’ve moved here. 
what if he didn’t hear your quiet thank you? what if he thinks you’re rude? you basically jog to the school, walking in with a sheen of sweat over you as your kids were beginning to line up by your classroom door.
you suppose it was a lion king sort of day, anyways. while the kids are glued to the screen and you’re contemplating if you qualify for worst teacher of the year, you sit and try to understand why you’re so hell-bent on meeting this man and figuring out how old he is and seeing for yourself if he’s as nice as your other neighbors think he is.
even if he is, which is more likely than not, given how he held the door open for you even though he was coming in before you, it’s not like it means anything. you level it out to be sheer curiosity—when you can’t see something, you don’t believe it’s real. and all of that aside, you have a bit of a complex when it comes to making people in your life, especially ones older than you, like you. it’s been that way since you were a kindergartner, bringing drawings to your teachers in the hopes that they could tell you were a good kid. and even now, when a student pads up to your desk with the tenth drawing of a rainbow that day, you smile so big and pin it up behind you somewhere and tell them thank you, and mean it.
maybe ever since mrs. p told you he was nice, you just needed to make sure he would be nice to you too.
god. it’s all true what they say—you really never outgrow some things. it’s really one of those days. you put on finding nemo right after, your friend across the hall standing in your window with a quizzical look, motioning to the screen. you step out to explain, but you don’t think your students would notice if you all but evaporated while dory is on the screen.
“two movies? how hungover are you? wait, yesterday was sunday-”
“i’m not hungover! i just… i was late and i think i left half the lesson plans at home anyways. and they’ve been good and the year’s almost over so,” you wave your hand around, looking for more ways to justify it.
“it’s fine. mine are watching cars right now. but then again, i’m actually hungover.”
“what happened to yesterday was sunday, huh?”
“well if you had come out with us, you’d know we got sidetracked. there was, like, so many cute guys there. i think all the rich doctors come there after their shifts or something.”
“next time. i promise.”
“sure. that’s what you said last time,” she says, laughing and smiling to make sure you know she’s just kidding. she starts walking back towards her classroom. “i gotta go. but let me guess, you were reading a book?”
god, were you really so predictable? you go back inside and watch the rest of the movie just to distract yourself from your own thoughts. it’s not until much later, when you’re back home, clean and showered, that you remember what she had said. 
all the doctors come there, or something like that. maybe next weekend you should tag along, meet the phantom face-to-face. then reality checks in—you don’t even know what kind of doctor he is, much less that he works at this specific hospital and goes to this specific bar. and he works nights, meaning he wouldn’t even be there, not unless the bar was open at eight in the morning, the time you had seen him returning home this morning.
god. give it a rest, you try to tell yourself. your mind is spinning stories, likely out of sheer boredom. 
j. abbot, whoever he is, works nights and opens doors for his rushing, running late neighbors. he’s also very nice and might possibly go to bars with his colleagues. that night while you cook dinner, you’re so distracted with what the j could stand for that you miss six-thirty altogether, the time you know he leaves for work. 
you want to catch another glimpse but you haven’t since the first one and the one this morning. and every time you try to remind yourself that you sound crazy, it fades away when you remember he held the door open for you. 
was it a bit much to turn off the kitchen hood to see if you could hear him at seven, incase he too was running late today? maybe. you still do it though.
and he’s a doctor, you tell yourself while moodily stabbing at your pasta. doctors probably don’t run late for their shifts, even though you can’t recall the last time you had a single appointment that was on time.
well, you don’t know anything else about john abbot. or maybe jake abbot. james abbot? you shake your head as if you could physically remove the thought from your brain before settling on your couch with the book from yesterday night. you make sure to set your alarm first, turn off love island, and then dig in. it’s only eight or so, and you can probably finish the rest of it before you go to bed for the night.
or maybe the universe is really against you finishing this book. not even thirty minutes later, you hear it—a loud, pained yell, not the kind that you think is just someone being silly, the kind that makes you get up and look through your peephole—something you have been doing a lot of lately—and investigate as much as you can from behind your door. and then just a little later, you see mrs. p open her door, holding her hand with a towel wrapped around it. 
you think she’s coming for your door, so you open it up immediately.
she shows you her hand, unfortunately sliced up by a mishap with her kitchen knife while she tried to make a late dinner.
“i think we should go to the emergency room,” you say, trying to stay calm. it’s something you’ve gotten pretty good at, ever since you started teaching. never freak out because then the kids freak out is a sort of daily mantra for you and your school of education friends. 
mrs. p, however, looks queasy and can’t stare at her hand for too long. before she can say anything else, you run in to grab a jacket for her and then one for yourself, and then you lock the apartments, tell her to keep holding the towel tight but not to look down at it, and hurry her to the nearest emergency room.
and around eight-thirty, an hour and a half into what he thought would be just any other shift, jack finds his elderly neighbor sitting in the chairs with a bloody kitchen towel around her hand, and someone vaguely familiar at the window, catching the ending half of you arguing that she needs to be seen sooner rather than later because she’s getting dizzy from the blood—
“-not the blood loss, no, but still, i think it’s a valid reason-”
“okay, okay, miss. and what is your relationship to the patient? daughter?”
“no, no i’m her neighbor-”
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sinsxo · 17 hours ago
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good morning. —blue lock
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based on this request.
note. this req was soo cute
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ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro.
synopsis. you wake up groggy, wearing their clothes, and walk out into the living room — only to find their teammates mid-conversation.
cw. drabble, fluff.
wc. 0.6k words, not proofread.
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isagi yoichi ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
with the both of you coming back home after a date yesterday, feeling drained and exhausted, he forgot to tell you that his teammates were coming over for a bit — just to review a match before training starts up again.
you woke up to the noise — yelling, laughter, someone getting way too hyped over a play on the screen. groggy and half-asleep, you stumbled toward the door and opened it.
you stood there blinking at three familiar-ish guys on the couch, all frozen mid-celebration — fists in the air, mouths still open, just… paused.
“sorry,” isagi said, standing up with a sheepish smile. “did we wake you up? i told them to keep it down, but they wouldn’t listen.”
he walked over, turned you gently by the shoulders and started guiding you back to the bedroom. “might wanna put on some pants, babe,” he added, handing you your sweats with a soft kiss to the top of your head.
itoshi rin ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
he wasn’t expecting guests this early — and he definitely didn’t think you’d be up yet. so when you walked out of the bedroom rubbing your eyes, wearing just one of his shirts, rin may or may not have fallen in love with you all over again.
“rinnie?” you called out, voice thick with sleep, surprised at the sight of people in the living room.
he stood up, walking over, tugging the hem of his shirt down over your thighs. “you’re awake?”
you nodded. “mhm. ‘s there food?”
“yeah,” he murmured, brushing a hand through your hair. “made toast. it’s in the kitchen. want me to get it for you?”
you shook your head and shuffled off as if nothing was out of the ordinary. rin turned back to his friends like nothing had happened — except the faintest, quietest smile displayed on his lips.
itoshi sae ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
you walk out into the living room, still half-asleep, wearing one of sae’s older jerseys — soft from years of wear, practically swallowing you whole. your steps are quiet, but he notices immediately.
he glances up from where he’s seated at the dining table with a few teammates, talking about formations and strategies like it’s a usual thing to do in the morning.
“you’re up. want some water?” he asks, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
you nod, mumbling a soft “mhm.”
he gets up, walks into the kitchen, and grabs a glass without being asked. you take it from him wordlessly, fingers brushing his for a second longer than necessary.
he leans in, brushing his hand over your head before you retreat to the bedroom again. not a single person says a thing — not because they don’t know what to say, but because sae’s presence makes it clear: this is normal and nothing else needs to be said.
nagi seishiro ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
he’s sprawled on the floor, playing co-op video games with reo, eyes half-lidded, posture slumped. reo’s mid-sentence, talking shit about some dumb strategy, when the bedroom door creaks open.
you walk out in one of nagi’s shirts, still heavy with sleep.
the second nagi sees you, he pauses the game and tosses the controller to the side.
“c’mere,” he murmurs, opening his arms for you. you don’t even hesitate — just walk straight into his chest as he wraps himself around you, pressing his face into your neck.
“bro,” reo mutters, half-laughing. “we were in the middle of a match.”
“don’t care,” nagi mumbles. “she’s more important.”
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© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.
all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.
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syluses · 3 days ago
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HEART WANTS WHAT IT WANTS
𓍯𓂃 PART THREE (3) of the stepdad! sylus x reader series
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(3) LOVE ON THE BRAIN
𓍯𓂃 CONTENT: stepdad! sylus therefore step/pseudocest, eventual smut, nsfw, dubcon, slowburn, yandere undertones, all characters are 18+ (mc is presently 23; sylus is in early forties), possessive & yandere behaviors, age difference, daddy kink, unreliable narrator, drinking, non-evol au, modern au, lowkey enemies to lovers, lots of (sexual) tension, loss of virginity, emotional breakdowns, some angst, some fluff, a lil bit of everything; tags will be added as story progresses— but know the story is relatively triggering
𓍯𓂃 SIDENOTE: hi guys sorry for the wait :,) this one’s a lil bit of a slower chapter imo but it’s still super important to the story. the next part or two might also be a lil ‘slow’ by some definition, but it’ll build onto itself do not fear. shoutout to the anon who gave me that song rec btw bc i was listening to it throughout writing this chapter 🫰 amazing taste. anyway without further ado.…. please enjoy :,) ALSO thank u sm for the support thus far!! i’m so happy yall seem to be liking it!! 🥹 if there’s any typos no there ain’t; i might come back to edit a lil later :,) [art credit: @/chimmyming on twitter/X]
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He comes like a flashbang into your life.
And to preface this: you get it, alright? that your mother misses your late father, she’s not doing half as well as she used to be and she technically can be considered single, open for the dating market. This is a trying time for you both. God as your witness, you’ve been slipping down the slope while she’s been putting her nose to the grindstone; there’s no shortage of struggle for you both since your dad died- but finally, it’s settling in for her.
The loneliness.
The need for something- someone- more.
And you somewhat bitterly suppose you just don’t qualify, do you?
It was an inevitable thing.
Away from the metaphorical sand you buried your head in, deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before a new man walked into her life- some actually half-decent, upstanding suitor- and flipped your world off its feet.
It wasn’t a maybe. Not a what if, either.
It was a when.
…Call it naivety on your end or just sheer stupidity, though, your sixteen-year-old brain having a lapse in judgement, but for whatever reason, you didn’t think that when would come.
You prayed against it. Childish or not, whether it can be considered a secret little attempt to sabotage your mother’s possible, budding relationships you had no proof of but suspected all the same (you recognize her perfume; not the rich cologne lingering on her blouse when she finally comes back from work)- you’d hoped she’d keep off from it, anyway.
From, you know,…
The whole ‘falling in love’ thing…
You’re not so deluded to believe it’s infidelity, her quietly seeking out another man outside of your father whole years after he’s passed (anyhow, you’re sure the legal side of it, the paperwork, doesn’t hold up the same), but that doesn’t ease the blow that is the idea of it.
Sure. He’s gone. That much is clear to you…The days pass- weeks, two years- and it’s almost like your life has reached a stopover, waiting for him to come back. I mean, sometimes, it’s almost like he was never even there.
…But at night, when darkness comes with its unbroken silence, you lie there and your heart thinks of him. Wherever you remember him, it hurts.
And yeah, maybe your mother seems growingly eager to leave your father behind… to truly make him a thing of the past even in memory- the final thing you have left of him. But you’re not so chummy with the silent suggestion of joining her there.
You don’t want that ‘when’ to come. Desperately, you don’t.
Oh, but it does.
Out of the blue like a comet from the sky, blindsiding you.
Swinging through the door, chuckling at something she’s said over her shoulder, you think, but the amusement on his face is almost too bare, too shadowed, to tell from where you sit.
You jolt in your chair.
The microwave, droning on, beeps, signaling your frozen dinner’s finally thawed out. But while it draws the attention of your drunken mother- otherwise distracted by the stranger she leads inside your little apartment- your growling stomach becomes the furthest thing from your mind in the moment.
Apparently, the stranger— tall, broad-shouldered, all suave with his sidepart and tailored leather jacket draped behind him like a cape— couldn’t care less for what’s cooking, either.
He doesn’t take his shoes off.
For that, you’re grateful, observing him with a reasonable sum of doubt as he lingers by the entry: It means he doesn’t have plans to stay long.
Which is good, because if he did, you think with a morsel of unease, your brow slowly creasing, you might’ve had to consider grabbing the broom and brushing him out.
The con is that he does wipe them off on the mat, though. Evidently, he plans to step deeper in.
His eyes, a ruby red, sharp as a hawk tracking prey, find yours from where you sit at the table, caught unawares as you scramble to hide your bare legs under your shirt, and he raises a subtle, curious brow at the observation.
“Oh,” he cocks his head, the front door- your front door- clicking behind him as he swiftly fixes his slight surprise into a cool, inscrutable mask.
“What a surprise. Your daughter, I presume?”
Distantly, in your head, a warning bell chimes.
…O-Or maybe it’s just the microwave, but—
Your mom turns it off, “Oh, honey,” in lieu of a greeting, she says, giggling as she walks over and sets her purse down on the tiny, round table you sit at.
Her work blouse is at least intact: you’ll give her that much. But her shift ended four hours ago and by the looks of it, she’s forgotten that promise to stop by the store on her way home- clearly occupied with something else- and in any case, you can’t really say the same for the stranger…
Dapper as he is— what with his perfect posture and urban get-up, the image of dashingly handsome, debonair, imposing (yet somehow just a touch weathered, too, however that may fit)- just to list a few traits off the bat— his top buttons are undone.
His hair, a natural silver all the way through, is almost imperceptibly disheveled. And maybe those things could be reasoned for or go unnoticed- to the untrained eye, they would- but you’re a little too paranoid, on alert as this asshole saunters into your house like it’s his, to miss the outlying factors.
The most damning of them all:
The wine-red smear of lipstick on his neck, only half concealed by his collar.
Your heart shudders in your chest.
And this is scary, this is nerve-wracking, yes, suddenly being force-fed the reason behind all the late nights your mother spent out, the whiffs of man on her clothes and the inexplicably giddy mood she’s been in lately- oh, it’s a million negative adjectives all packed in one- but when he strides forward, confident like you wouldn’t believe, and extends a hand for you to shake-?
You wonder if it’s fury, rising above anything else, that broils in your gut and makes accepting it an all but impossible task.
“Sylus,” he purrs as introduction.
And to be honest, that’s what this feels like in the most grandiose, pervasive of ways: the bad guy being introduced.
It’s true that you caught fragments of him: the vestigial notes of bergamot and vanilla that follow after your mother like some ghostly haunting; the odd lifts in her mood as of late; the phonecalls she gets at night that she always dismisses, but not without a thick swallow and a darting look your way before letting it ring— hell, you’ve even heard whispers within her friend circle of some dishy man dropping by her work building, nonchalant with a bouquet of flowers in tow—
Actually being face-to-face with him, literal inches apart, is freshly alarming.
Meeting him is something cinematic and new. Like a chord in the soundtrack dips; a note lowering to introduce the villain as one of the keys shake.
And perhaps comparing the scene, this man, to a movie isn’t so bad a coping mechanism, because yes, as the surround-sound kicks in and he’s all you can hear- that rich voice of velvet and bass to boot- the room going dark as you tunnel in on him before you— it feels like none of it is even real.
The kitchen blurs. The tiles on the wall smearing into one another, fuzzing together in a way that doesn’t resemble the home you know.
Bergamot, subtle but carrying a little bit of a punch, floods your system and inundates you. Vanilla lays the base for it, as sweet-smelling as nectar.
It settles in your lungs like congestion.
Truffle wrap. Marble and stone. The banister: meant to be sturdy.
It is.
He must be within the same age pool as your mom, yet when his penetrating stare briefly shifts over to her (if you didn’t know any better, amused at your reluctance to accept him)- and he grins that damned grin— he looks young again.
You’re actually almost fooled into believing he’s a gentleman.
There’s nothing… inherently wrong with him, you suppose. But none of that, him seeming apparently decent, matters- not when you’d already decided you’d stay loyal to your dad no matter what. N-Not when-
Not when something is wailing in your subconscious, parting cars in its path. Like a siren in the night shaking you awake to tell you something is terribly, terribly wrong. A wildfire. A disaster.
You quietly wonder if being in places he doesn’t belong gives him a confidence boost, or if he’s just impossibly tone deaf to the environment as it whispers in his ear, ‘you shouldn’t be here.’
All the while, something- mystical in nature, almost, like an angel or devil on your shoulder (it could be either)- is whispering to you, too.
Faintly, that voice in your head, deathly-quiet, says stop. Stop this. Nip it in the bud before it—
This is overwhelming. All of it.
You’re mortified and unsure of yourself; a mite betrayed, even, as you toss a cursory glance to your mom who watches on with a look of both expectance and worry, chewing away at her bottom lip.
It’s a little humorous, the faint concern made ten times more obvious in her half drunken state, as she puts herself on standby.
You can’t help but wonder what face you’re making now. If it’s one of shock, anger, or fear. Or an ugly amalgamation of the three— that’s possible, too.
Truthfully, you’re just as hard pressed to distinguish what you’re feeling: unsure of your next reaction. If anything, you might appreciate if she chooses to step forward and help you figure out just what the hell is happening, whether that means by extraction or a gentle hand on your shoulder to help steady you as he tells you his name.
Two minutes ago, you were waiting for your frozen dinner to thaw (really just a block of something half edible, but with the milk gone, you can’t make your routine cereal), thinking you were in the clear to lounge around with panties and a baggy shirt with your mother out God knows where. Now, you’re looking dead-on at what is perhaps your worst nightmare as the kitchen, not so comfortable anymore, fizzles to nothingness around you.
From this close, he’s… Leonine, that’s a pretty good word for him. As elegant and cocksure, relaxed, as a king of nature.
He doesn’t worry about what he will eat tomorrow: his sheer presence is dominating enough to have it served on a silver platter for him. Something about him just tells you so.
But he’s… beautiful in a way, too, you’ll concede that much (and only that much). Said with the best of intents, he reminds you of some prized thing from an antique shop, lacquered and pretty but weathered all the same.
You can’t imagine all the zeroes on his price tag, but he’s definitely an expensive thing. Part of you wonders what the hell he’s doing with your mother: you don’t come from wealth, so if he has any desire to romance her, it’s not for material gain.
…An admittedly endearing revelation. But it doesn’t quite placate you.
You can see the slight scruff of his chin, the faint wrinkles settling into his angular features. The harsh fluorescence of your kitchen isn’t the most flattering of lights, but he fairs surprisingly well under it regardless.
It’s obvious he takes good care of himself. And it’s also clear to you that he knows his worth- but considering the air of snugness around him, and your flowering dislike for him, you can’t help but wonder if he overestimates it.
The guy is a complete fucking stranger. You know him about as far as you can throw him.
A few beats of silence pass on. Each more unbearable than the last as you wordlessly drink the stranger in, his brow lifting with what you can only assume to be the stirrings of a challenge as he waits for you to take his much larger hand in yours.
Your uncertain gaze- made wide at the unwanted suddenness of it all- flits down to that hand. Despite the many jewels and glittering things that adorn his long, svelte fingers, though, there’s a lack of a wedding ring.
You allow yourself to deflate just a tiny bit at the observation.
It’s good to know he doesn’t have a wife and kids waiting at home for him, you sarcastically guess, while your mom guns for him as they sit unawares.
Still. You don’t know this man. You don’t- you don’t know what he’s doing with your mother (but don’t you?).
And he’s…
Perhaps draconian, actually, is the best descriptor.
Parting your lips in a silent breath, trying and failing to provide a simple hello to the guest or your nervous mother to the side, spectating it all, you’re at a bit of a loss for words when your subconscious realizes it’s presented with the quiet comparison of an animal or a devil for the guy— and no in between.
Sweetie, hey- Are… Are you able to talk? It’s… Important.
I… have some news. Not the good kind. Find somewhere to sit down and breathe.
…Breathe, you remind yourself. Yes. Just…
Just breathe.
Yet, his cologne- that citrusy spritz he wears like a coat, a smell you’re so unexplainably sensitive to for some reason, with its treacly vanilla undertones- is all you can breathe.
“Honey,” a thin, yet encouraging voice, your mom’s, calls out, and then her hand does settle on your shoulder as she sidles up to your chair hesitantly. “Say hi to him?”
You blink, lashes fluttering.
…And his stupid hand is still there, outstretched and waiting.
You’ll give him credit for this:
Sylus, at the first opportunity to ditch his bratty, seething stepdaughter after his wife- his only real obligation to her- passes— doesn’t take it.
He had every chance to kick you to the curb now that your mother’s out of the picture. And to be honest, he has every reason, every right, to give you the boot. You’ve only been a complete bitch to him for the last seven years you’ve known him. Not to the point of ball-breaking, not quite, you were only a teenager after all, but it wasn’t extremely far off from that either.
Sylus, by his own volition, stays.
Moreover, he invites you into his home. And yes, you know it’s technically yours, too, but the circumstances of your filling out the rest of your youth under his roof weren’t the prettiest, and you weren’t the most… pleasant of persons to be around. Let alone live with.
Yet every stolen, curious glance he takes of you and the gentle, half smirks in passing- brushing your shoulder like it’s the most casual thing ever, like you never left- is a reminder in its own that this is your place, too. Whether you believe it or not is irrelevant.
If your stepfather’s aim is to reassure you, it’s working.
Slowly but surely.
Four days into the visit, you let go of much of your resistance and let yourself simply… breathe.
The past is the past, and, capable of rational thought, you’d do well to leave it behind. Let bygones be bygones and forgive both yourself and the people around you for former hurts of former times.
It’s called maturing, you quietly decide at the door one early morning, having been all but hauled out of bed, bidding the twins adieu as they hover at the porch.
This little resolve you let bud in your heart and grow is what compels you to wrap your arms around them when they hug you, embracing them back as Kieran mopes in your ear and Luke reminds it’s only for a few days.
It’s not as much to comfort you as it is to comfort himself and his brother.
You’re well aware of this, but keep quiet on the matter; you’re too sleepy to be in the mood to tease him for it, but mentally pocket it for a later time anyway.
Occupying any sort of space with the twins guarantees that you’ll need a decent deck of comebacks on standby. You’ve been adding to yours.
This short business trip of theirs isn’t some long, drawn-out pilgrimage taken to distant lands, despite their theatrics- it’s not even obligatory- but you know very well how eager the boys are to please their father, and if working a few days at one of the subsidiary companies to better the career he gave them will make him preen, then they’ll do it. Gladly.
You wouldn’t call either of them homebodies, per se… but wherever their father is, so is their heart. It’s only natural they’d want to make him proud. You know that.
You understand why they’re going, you do…
It’s just…
Over Luke’s shoulder, your eyes meet Sylus’s only briefly, but a second is all you need to read his emotions.
Propped against the threshold with folded arms and a spark of amusement that’s only slightly obvious, he watches them sandwich you in a big hug.
If it hasn’t been made clear yet— yes, they’ll miss you.
“Oh, so dramatic,” their father comments, not with any shortage of entertainment. You think if he could, he would’ve prepared a bowl of popcorn for this- but while he’s certainly tickled by the sight, there’s something else in his stare as he divvies it between you three, gathered in a tangle of arms and suitcases, that he won’t admit aloud.
Pride, maybe…?
Satisfaction?
Or… Content. That’s the closest word.
You hope Sylus doesn’t see the slight fluster left on you by his flippant remark. Untucking your chin from one of the boys’ shoulders as you stand upright and pat their backs respectively.
“A-Alright, boys, that’s enough.”
“Say it back,” Luke chirps, “say you’ll miss us!”
Sighing, you roll your eyes. “I just said I did-“
“But do it louder! We’ll be gone for three whole days!”
“Yeah! Don’t you love us, sis?! Will you really just stand there unaffected as we turn our backs and go?”
If unaffected means arms crossed, shivering in freezing temperatures with the faintest of frowns on your face, some inner piece of you experiencing a quiet, unanticipated ache at their departure, then yes- by all means, you’re unaffected.
You purse your lips, snipping back with only half the bite, “If you keep pushing it, I’ll email the firm specifically and tell them to keep you dummies there for longer.”
A deep, languid chuckle answers back; like a slowed song with reverb, it hits differently.
Considering your newfound efforts to squash the beef between you both- even if it was only one-sided- you don’t ignore him out of bitterness, but the slight unease is still something you can’t quite shake, so you momentarily survey the porch below (anything but him, stood somewhere behind you), and sniff.
I mean, it’s reasonable to be a little awkward, isn’t it…? You’ve spent all your adult years clinging onto the straws of a grudge your teenage self kept for him- and back then, you were only fiercer, more vocal, in your stance taken against your new stepfamily.
So yeah, while it’s safe to say the worst of that metaphorical storm has blown over, the debris is still absolutely there: the ruined bits you have to cautiously step across and just- try to overlook.
Too low for anyone to hear, you softly sigh.
Just as you determined to make peace with him, though, you tranquilly think to yourself, you’ll too learn how to navigate the aftermath of that silently-signed treaty.
Of course, that awkward feeling in the air, not powerful enough to take precedence in your mind, but niggling all the same, is only temporary.
Two weeks.
“Geez, sis,” Kieran snickers, Luke grinning ear to ear at your other side, the duo forming a flank, “someone woke up on the wrong side of bed, huh?”
“You’ll be late, you two,” a lilting voice from behind chimes in, effectively putting an end to the antics.
You don’t bother looking behind, but the twins’ focus shifts over your head before they slump their backs and sigh, conceding.
Hmph. Theatrical as always.
“Yeah, yeah, we got it, dad! We’re going!”
Rewrapping your robe, you offer a longanimous exhale when Kieran’s lanky arm unfurls from you, the boys finally stepping away for the car. The thin cotton does little to ward off the December cold, its roots digging bone-deep within seconds of lingering on the porch, and underneath it, your tanktop and panties offer not an iota of warmth, either- but you weren’t about to wave them goodbye half-naked, so the robe does its part to cover you.
Within a few minutes, you’ll be curled up in your bed anyway, allowed to revisit the sleep you’d been so rudely pulled from.
Piling into the car, they holler to you, and with a smile you can’t quite fight off, you shake your head at them all the while.
The engine grumbles to life. The idiots they are, they give it a few gratuitous revs (to impress you? God only knows their end goal) and then the gate is opening for them as they peel off.
Dummies.
And then it’s just you and him.
You and Sylus.
You and… your stepfather.
A hand, broad and big but warm- oh so reluctant- places itself on your shoulder, circling the blade reassuringly with its thumb. To your immense surprise, you manage to keep from flinching beneath it, but just barely.
Still. If that’s not progress, you don’t know what is.
With an only somewhat visible shiver, you turn around and face him as he shifts sideways to the door, his chin trained your way as he offers a slight, deliberate smirk. Something like encouragement is used as its subtext.
His hand leaves as quickly as it came, slipping away. Its imprint of warmth slowly fades, too.
He opens the door wide, gesturing with a nonchalant little nod, “Ready to go in?” In flannel pajamas, bare foot, he doesn’t even shiver.
Vacillating, you spare one last look behind you, out to the courtyard with its sprawling, greyed lawn and erected fences, and watch the stillness. It’s a sight worthy of your admiration.
A flurry— the first of the season— begins to fall.
You breathe out. A cloud of white whisks from your lips and blends into nothingness. It’s pretty in the way that it doesn’t last for long.
And it’s freezing but it’s… strange. How this one cold winter develops this way of thawing you out.
Returning to the man in front of you, waiting patiently, you nod, dipping your head on the way past him. Bundling yourself tighter. “Yeah.”
Not long after midday, you’re a fraction through one of your new books- but you decide to put it down.
It’s for a couple different reasons. One of them being that it’s not gotten good yet- the plot moving at a snail’s speed, the protagonist not interesting enough to even remember the name of- and you figure the chapter you’re closing out on now is a good breaking point. The main one, though, is that you’re awfully bored and this house, despite holding not the best of memories, has lots to offer.
When it comes to fun— exploring its labyrinthine rooms, utilizing its many services and amenities (like a personal chef, for instance, or a home theater and gym)— there’s no shortage of things to do.
It’s just with an ounce of unease that you realize those fun opportunities, however, are only half the appeal without the twins.
Annoying, troublesome, experts at exaggeration and being thorns in your side— yes, they’re all of that and then some. But if we’re listing all their shining traits right now, then for the record, ‘fun’ must be one of them.
And yeah, okay, their absence is starting to kick in just a little bit. But it’s not a big deal. I mean, what’s it matter if they’re gone for a few days? You’ll blink and it’ll be over.
They’ll be back. You’ll greet them at the door after they veer into the driveway, waiting there just as you did when waving them goodbye, and Sylus will be chuckling behind you in that rich, unruffled way he does as they herd you inside and divulge their journey.
Heaving a sigh, you toss your book aside on the dormer window and relocate to your bed.
You belly flop on it before rolling on your back to stare at the ceiling.
For only a moment, you close your eyes and let yourself be barraged by the thoughts you’d been blocking out; the unique responsibilities and aches.
You intake an unsteady, deep breath and attempt to manage them all one at a time— but they don’t stand in single-file, eager to attack you from every angle all at once.
The dress for the funeral…
Looking through your mother’s old things…
And then everything that comes afterward of that, too. Whatever that might entail.
As ambivalent as the future may seem, an abstract thing veiled behind fog and uncertainty, you ruefully suppose not wanting it to come won’t stop it from doing just that.
And then of course, there’s the whole booking your flight thing… leaving this place for, if you’re being realistic, probably the last fucking time and then—
Have you even asked Sylus who’s giving the eulogy?
“No,” you mumble before rolling on your stomach again, legs and arms splayed on the bed like a starfish.
God help you. Half of you is expecting for the twins, just as irksome as they are entertaining, to come bursting through your door at any moment and save you from the woes of having nothing to do. To be fair, sitting around and doing absolutely nothing is better than some things- like work, namely (you don’t want to imagine the stack of papers that’s building on your desk during your leave)- but as you quietly ponder the week and a half ahead, you start to worry it’ll be uneventful from start to finish.
Well, as uneventful that a trip begotten by a funeral can be, anyway.
Maybe it’s being wishful- sickeningly optimistic in a situation with no one silver lining- but you’d like to hope you can at least squeeze out some enjoyment during your stay.
As sheepish as you are to admit it, the twins were a staple in that halfbaked idea.
But now they’re gone. For three days. And God only knows why it was so simple a decision for them to make, leaving you behind when right now, realistically speaking, your little screwed up family should be huddling together now more than ever, but—
(‘Why was it simple?’ Well, why do you think…? Because you’ve been so coldly pushing them away and they finally took the hint and-)
You get up and leave your room, traipsing down the hallway. You can’t find it in you to care, right now, about who you might bump into while the house is left to two people and a whole lot of ice.
Sylus is probably in his study, anyway. Assuming he even is in the home right now, but with the long laundry list of errands and contractual deals that require his flowery, hasty signature to be secured, you doubt he spends too much of his time here on weekdays.
As you walk through the stretching halls, you trace the walls with a finger, bored.
You’re stopped in your tracks by a picture- just one of the many lavish decorations- and tilt your head up to stare at it in its entirety.
It’s a big thing; a large, elaborate wooden frame without dust.
Five portraits stare back at you. But you- squished between the cheerful twins, stood before your mother and stepfather who join in a kiss behind your head, smiling lips smushed together as he holds back her veil- don’t don the same delighted expression.
Maybe it’s immature of you, but as the lingering, subtle whisps of something citrusy waft by, you do offer a slight huff of amusement at the image. It’s just so comically awful, nailed to the wall in a frame so stupidly opulent it’s like some boast against poor people— a should-be perfect wedding photo marred by the bitterness oozing off the stepdaughter.
Alright, to be fair, you’re not outright scowling or anything, but the smile you plaster on is so clearly fake it’s hard not to laugh at it—
“She looked like you, you know.”
You must jump five feet into the air.
He adds, raising one wryly amused brow, “Somewhat.”
Startled, you turn to find him staring not at the picture he presumably references- but you.
Your brow furrows slightly, and then he does glance over to the frame as you hover your hand over your heart, clutching your invisible pearls in a moment of deja vu.
A soft sigh. Is this how you’ll be seeing him now…? Every time you happen to bump into your stepfather- evidently not the best at evading him- does it mean you’ll be caught off guard as he stands there, unbothered, before apologizing?
Except, this time he doesn’t. He’s content pretending not to notice your shudder- your fear of him. Ruby-red hues drifting off as his jaw imperceptibly tightens.
Murmuring under his breath as he surveys the illustration almost quizzically, “But wasn’t… quite you.”
Ah, right- the wedding photo. Your mother. You resemble her— That’s what he’s getting at here.
“Y-Yeah…” You mumble back. You don’t have much to offer him, but it’s better than ignoring him: the thing you recently decided you wouldn’t be doing on this trip.
Slowly, you close your mouth. You do a quick once-over of him, and then look back towards the hanging memory.
There’s a certain silence that occurs between you both, then. Simultaneous to it- is a weight dropping in your heart, slowly descending the longer you reminisce on the familiar woman’s profile.
Not only has the stepdaughter’s scornful face been immortalized, but so has your dead mother’s.
It’s in a moment of weakness, perhaps, that you reach out to trail her jaw, pondering the past as it sweeps you up in its nostalgic current.
Your mind is less focused on acting cool and indifferent in front of your stepfather and more on the parent that has been ripped away from you- now stood before you in an intricate frame along a dark wall. So maybe later you might regret showing your belly to him, but right now, you really can’t find it in you to care.
You told yourself the past is the past.
Now, all there’s left to do is commit.
“She looked… so happy,” you’re surprised to realize the voice filling your ears is your own, gravelly from disuse, barely audible. Part of you debates feeling embarrassed, but quickly erases the idea because you don’t think your stepfather would have any real intent to ridicule you, least of all right now.
Your younger self has always been fairly good at believing everyone around you is a sworn enemy, out to get you behind your back, but your stepfather is…
Family, a little voice in the back of your head supplies. And you’re puzzled at the lack of backlash it receives this time around.
You start to wonder if he’s heard, the quiet sprawling for just a touch too long, self-consciousness a breath away as something, his attention, you think, bores into the back of your head, but then he hums and you’re at ease again.
“She was so happy,” he agrees. “We both were.”
Sylus, from the corner of his eye, watches.
Some gear turns in the very back of your skull and begs to ask the question of just what he’s doing here right now; the master bedroom- now his alone, you realize with an unbidden squeeze of your heart- is on the other wing of the house. During the daytime, he’s typically downstairs, anyway.
But you suppose that’s besides the point.
Your eyes flutter down, and then your hand follows. Ghosting along the photo in one sweeping motion before you turn just halfway to face him.
You’re making headway on squashing your beef with him, oh definitely, but there’s a sort of intimacy that comes with standing front-to-front, and right now, you think that’d be overwhelming and weird for the both of you.
He’s not… used to you being exactly nice to him, anyway, or open. Or agreeable. Or- or anything, really. For your teen years, you erected a wall in between you both and actively refused to let anyone scale it— and after you moved out, you weren’t so hellbent on keeping him away, sure, not half as immature and bratty as you had been, but the distance was absolutely still there. Just quieter.
No longer screamed, but rather implied.
For a while, you’d even wondered if he’d agreed upon it. If he threw in the metaphorical towel on building a relationship with you; defeated and exasperated. But you guess he’s a multimillionaire for a reason— it requires dogged ambition- drive- to reach those heights, after all— and you’ve sometimes wondered if meeting Sylus was like an immovable object going head to head with an unstoppable force.
For your part, you’re not so used to this, either. Kind of giving into this… paternal subtext to your nonexistent connection.
It’s odd. New, as it creeps in on you, slowly dialing up the temperature. Though the way it plants its seed is too gradual to make you want to dig it out from the dirt right away.
It’s a foreign thing, yes— when your eyes meet his, an inscrutable, glittering red, and a ribbon of warmth unfurls in your aching chest as you quietly realize he’s there for you, that in this tragedy, you’re not alone— but it’s not… bad, per se.
Not like you’d always imagined it’d be, anyway.
I mean, back then you didn’t even want to imagine it, but now—
Two weeks, your nagging subconscious reminds, and then you’ll be gone. Your… family (the pest-like, ever plotting twins; Sylus, even, the persistent but gentle stepfather you’d kept on hold indefinitely) will become just a speck in the distance as it grows behind you. And then….
And then you’ll be alone. And that was what you wanted, wasn’t it?
But maybe if you had just- not been so fucking stubborn and bent on making a point to your mother, if you had just visited a little more, then maybe by some stretch of inagination you could’ve done something to-
Your soul sinks in your chest. The feeling of regret, terrible and distinct, rips you a new one as you try not to wilt in the silence. But Sylus’s eyes are warm, softening into a pass of concern as he drops his folded arms.
Business-oriented, arrogant, competitive, bound and determined. You and the world have seen each of those facets of him, but the gentler side is one that the latter doesn’t own access to.
When Sylus’s fingers twitch, his arm nearly reaching out to you as he visibly vacillates, you feel a strange flash of endearment towards him.
Your mother saw this side of him all the time, you inwardly consider. Because that’s who he reserved it most for.
Sylus assigned things to one of two categories: his family, and then everything else.
And you- you infuriating, lovely little dragon of a daughter- fell to the former.
There’s all kinds of uncertainty swirling in his eyes, but he settles for a soft clear of his throat, looking you over. The gloss in your stare, the one that hangs over your lashes and refuses to fall as if permanently suspended there, makes him open his mouth, but before he can say anything, you undercut his words.
“What are you doing here?”
You ask. Not in a demanding way: you’re just eager to distract you both from your impending waterworks.
You wonder if he knows; what’s running through his head as you stand there and fidget with the hem of your shirt, rapidly blinking to keep the tears at bay. You don’t remember giving them permission to come, but here they are, knocking.
His brow raises by the faintest tick, and then he smiles an easy, slight smile. Dipping his hands in his pockets to rest.
“The twins forgot something on their journey, it seems. They texted me to grab it for them. So,” he says, giving a loose shrug with one shoulder, looking down the hallway past you, tone as mocking yet sincere as ever, “Here I am, letting myself be treated like some poor… errand boy.”
“Oh.”
Poor is… certainly not the word you’d select for him, but…
He finishes, eyes catching yours in a second of boldness, “I’ll mail it out to the firm. They’ll receive it no later than this evening.”
You give a small nod, looking down to his chest because it offers a convenient escape to his penetrating, sharp stare, and frankly, if you’re getting emotional at some old picture on the wall- then you need the respite.
You rub your forearm, “Well, I’ll just be going now.”
“Where to?” A tiny twitch of his lip tells you he spoke too soon. His chest swells out. Your eyes jump to his.
“If you need a car, you can use any of the ones in the garage,” he remedies. You blanche. “Just point, and I’ll give you the keys-“
“Oh, no, no, no,” you chuckle suddenly, shaking your head. Sylus pauses, quirking one brow as he tilts his chin by a fraction, interest and maybe even a little bit of mirth reshaping his face at your change in demeanor.
“I didn’t mean I was going out,” you quickly add, “Realistically, I probably would’ve just went downstairs and ate something... Or brought a snack out to the sunroom.”
He frowns. “The sunroom might be a bit cold, though.”
“I know. I- I just wanna see how it looks after all this time.”
To your surprise, Sylus lets out a smooth, somewhat short chuckle. At your confusion, he elaborates, “This place is still the same, Kitten,” he chides in a harmless, rather loving tone, “All that’s different is that you’re here.”
…And that this time around, your mother isn’t.
Yet Sylus, as if clueless to the glaring elephant in the room, smirks and doesn’t mention it. And truthfully, you’re grateful for that. Just- you have your questions, those little segments of his short account over the phone that you want to pick apart and scrutinize- but all of that is for later. An indefinite later... Right now is too soon.
You’re hardly keeping your feelings in check as is: you don’t need to pile further revelations of your mother’s death onto the plate. In any case, as much as a gritty, inward part of you would like to know every scrap of information possible- at the end of the day, it’d be unnecessary.
Your mother died the way she did. And all attempts or methods of probing for more context, you fear, would only do more harm than good.
“I guess it still feels the same,” you mumble out an agreement, peering down the corridor towards the stairs, his figure standing tall and unruffled to your side. “All the decorations are the same.”
“Exactly,” he hums, “and the sunroom is no different. You wouldn’t want to… catch a cold on your vacation, would you?”
Vacation is a funny word for it, but you won’t shoot him for being optimistic. You’d honestly benefit from following his example.
You snort softly, sheepishly looking down, “I won’t catch a cold. It can’t be that bad. Besides,” you lift your chin, meeting his gaze- wholly transfixed on you, a glimmering, fascinated red- “Back at my apartment, the AC and heating is usually broken, so… I’m used to arctic temperatures.”
You try to joke, but he doesn’t laugh at it. In fact, his lighthearted smirk ebbs into a thin line as he parts his mouth and furrows his brow at you. Your breath hitches slightly.
The tears that had been beading at your eyes are gone, but now a sense of uncertainty replaces them in your chest.
He unstuffs his hands from either of his pockets. “That’s nothing to brag about,” he croaks.
Your lashes flutter, ears perking under his uneven timber. You… don’t often hear that voice come from him.
He swiftly recorrects himself, saying in a lighter but just as firm tone, “You should take care of yourself. Have you… been well, by the way? How is it back at your old place?” Sylus lowly ventures, before one half of his mouth quirks up playfully.
He leans his back against the wall, localizing his attention fully to you. Not paying the smallest of glances to the large, idyllic photo you stand in front of.
“I wonder,” he starts, “What a day in the life looks like in your shoes.”
A beat of silence passes. In that time, you realize it’s not just a spoken fragment of his thoughts, but a question. You answer accordingly.
Not without a look down the hall, though, silently wishing to exit the conversation as it begins to drag on.
The sunroom, for as cold as it’s advertised, sounds better and better.
You don’t quite laugh, but by some standard it might be considered one. “Well, it’s not really anything interesting. Obviously, it’s not as glamorous as like, you guys here,” you say, “but I’m fine where I am.”
Physically, fine. Although, the level of content you hold inwardly is a bit of a different story.
You’ll keep that on its shelf. Right now, it’s better where it is: in the dark; in the quiet.
Safe with you.
Sylus simply says, “You… shouldn’t settle for less,” impossibly careful with his choice of words, albeit you don’t fully know why.
“I-I’m not,” you jump to justify. You have a growing inkling that this conversation is going nowhere, and you don’t exactly like small talk, so you aim to wrap this up.
“I work hard at my job, but-“
But what? you still don’t wanna die in a cubicle during your mundane 9-5 job? Hmph. Yeah, get in line behind literally everyone else.
Not everybody has the same luxury that Sylus does, though: he’ll die without regrets, knowing he secured riches for his next thousand generations, but you can’t really say the same. That is… assuming you branch off from the Qins and separate yourself from that golden heritage. Which-
You are. You will. These two weeks will either fly by or slug by, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll be bidding the boys farewell one last time.
You’ll do the right, reasonable thing, excuse yourself from the metaphorical table that is your stepfamily (who, if you’re being honest, are probably done with you deep down but are too nice- sympathetic in this dark time- to say something), and go back home. To that shitty, cramped apartment with its broken utilities and cracks in the ceiling. To that cubicle; to all the paperwork on your desk amounting to a miniature Tower of Babel.
You’ll go back to the loneliness and uncertainty.
Yet it will just be even colder, then. Knowing that palatial house on the hills, once a backup plan of sorts- a final failsafe if your humble little life you’d been trying to make for yourself collapsed- is no longer an option.
Because the one precious thread tying you to it—
Snapped.
“I work hard at my job,” you try anew, inexplicably having trouble meeting his eyes. “I always strive for better, just- I know how to be content with what I have, you know?”
It’s not meant as a jab towards him, you swear it’s not, albeit your way of going about it could use a little bit of work. Considering you’ve been making all sorts of revolutionary improvements on this trip, though, you don’t think adjusting your tone should be too big of an issue.
At any rate- you’re not about to start this big discussion with your stepfather on career paths and how satisfied you are with yours, though, and that’s where this seems to be headed.
You gesture down the hall with a shoulder and smile if only to be polite.
“But anyway, I think I’ll-“
“You know,” Sylus starts, glancing up to you expectantly, and it’s only right then that you realize he’d been looking at the floor- or, more accurately, your legs- while mulling over something, silent. His words are measured, slow; his hues more obsidian than ruby in the dimly-lit corridor. The vibrant twinkle of scarlet is still there, but a shadow pours over his brow. His slight crow’s feet can be spotted.
He’s pushing forty one now, but it’s strange- how you look at him and don’t notice the age. He’s as virile and manly as ever. In his prime, you’d say.
Silently, you wonder in a breath if all men are like wine in the way that they age, or if your stepfather was a result of a fluke.
I mean, you’re aware that he takes good care of himself. Those boxing sessions he does on the side in the home gym certainly do their part to keep him physically afloat, and his chef only uses ingredients of the highest quality— but still…
It’s not wrong to make the comment that he’s a bit of a genetic jewel.
You remind yourself to tune back into his words, straightening your spine slightly.
Yes, you can acknowledge- in absolutely no weird way, mind you- that your stepfather is an attractive guy. There’s no science to it: he just… is. Your mother certainty knew it; all her gossiping friends, too. You’re not so taken by an old grudge to pretend Sylus’s charm isn’t universal.
“Don’t… take this the wrong way, I don’t mean to be pushy,” he drawls, the image of casual. There’s a wisp of hesitance in his eyes, though. You don’t miss it. “But if you ever want to try your hand at my company,” he leaves the suggestion open-ended, although there’s nothing you need further clarity on.
You laugh nervously, ignoring the inward part of you that perks a little at the offer.
“Ah, no, I… already have a job back at my place. And I think the commute would be a nightmare,” A commute is a bit of an understatement— if you were to hop aboard your stepfather’s panel, you’d actually have to move back out to Linkon or, perhaps more conveniently, just live out of your old bedroom already here.
But for so many reasons, working for Sylus just… isn’t a great idea.
Besides- he’s just being nice to you, anyway. The four of you are in a hard time right now.
You’ve never gotten along well with Sylus, sure, and he’s well-acquainted with your abrasive exterior, but he’s never been half as immature as your younger self in regards to sympathy, so of course he’s trying to make you feel better— you’re his veritable stepdaughter, after all. There’s not many better ways to do that than to offer you an extremely lucrative job that he knows you’ll ultimately decline— meaning he’ll take no loss.
He’s just being polite… Which makes you a smidgen more uncomfortable to acknowledge your bumpy past with him. Here he is with the twins, flying you out and making efforts to comfort you in his own roundabout way after his wife’s died- no doubt dealing with that loss as well- and you’re still trying to fully commit to ‘new beginnings’ and all.
He’s just a man at the end of the day, you realize right then, a pang of guilt fattening your heart. He fell in love with your mother; so much so that he was willing to put up with her insufferable, brat of a child for years on end.
And you were- well, for lack of a better word you were a bitch.
And yeah there’s a million justifications you can make for it, but the point of the matter right now is that you feel bad. You feel like such an intruder, a nuisance, a burden now weighing on his, Luke’s, and Kieran’s shoulders, and-
Sylus shrugs like there’s nothing on them. Glances down to rub his forefinger and thumb together. Dripping nonchalance right from the pores.
“Suit yourself.” He says smoothly, taking your rejection no different than a duck would with water off its wings. “But Sweetie,” he states, eyes clashing with yours as if to add emphasis to whatever he’ll say, “The opportunity will always be up in the air for you. Do you understand?”
Oh, the emphasis is there, alright.
You swallow. “O-Okay.”
“See you, then.”
And then he’s breezing past before you can even clumsily dismiss yourself. Tall and broad and gone.
His heady cologne remains in a subtle draft and then that, too, disappears.
R-Right, you blink, sighing out a big breath you didn’t realize you were holding all along.
The sunroom.
His large hand, extended like an offering, slightly falters when he understands you don’t have a lick of desire to shake it.
Maybe you’re a bit hangry, yes, and you’ll admit that probably does no favors for your current mood as this ridiculous scene unfolds before you- but all these emotions that bud inside you now, flowering no different than weeds, entangling themselves as they expand- are very much valid and real.
You’re still positively pissed and confused and above all, hurt that she’s been going behind your back and flirting around without so much as telling you.
See, of course you had your ideas and creeping little doubts— it was hard not to what with the way her schedule was warping in front of your eyes, how she seemed just a pinch happier than usual, giddy, almost— but being faced with the truth of it all in its real, physical form is a different matter entirely.
And-
And how she could do this to you? after- after what happened with your father?
Well, you just don’t fucking know.
But she’s doing it to you right now, anxiously peering at you from your side, and she’s smiling.
A beat of silence occurs, loud and tedious.
His hand stays out, dangling like a modifier, and it’s like the sumptuous asshole knows you’ll change your mind and backtrack or something: as if that’s all he’s used to, people parting like the Red Sea and bowing for him without question.
…Audacious: you’ll admit that much. But you’ll give him no more credit than that, as kind of backhanded as it is.
Time slows. In reality, no more than two seconds must’ve passed, but as the eyes of your mother drill into your profile both in a mash of expectance and worry, and your heart lodges in your throat, it feels like you’re stuck in a time capsule.
You’ve been standing here too long. This enigmatic, admittedly dashing stranger (Sylus, your mind- seemingly having shut off in the moment to lend your senses full control- helpfully contributes) has been in your home too long and—
Mentally, you scold yourself for visibly balking. You steel yourself against him and school your expression.
This is your house.
He won’t make you feel like an outsider in it.
The silver-haired man, with the scruff on his chin and the punch of whiskey underlining his fancy-shmancy cologne, with his sharp red eyes, drops his hand back to his side and actually laughs at your blatant rejection of him.
“Very hospitable, I see. I like that,” he tosses behind his broad shoulder to your somewhat mortified mother as he, egregiously enough, goes to take his shoes off at the door, a hand in his pocket. “Your kid is as bold as you are, honey.”
Honey?
…Honey?
You grow a mite afraid in that moment, internally struggling to pinpoint just what degree of involvement this awful yet handsome guy has with your mother.
How deep into this little… fling of theirs are they, anyway?
She opens her mouth, looks at you, then closes it. Blustering out a laughing apology, she leaves your side and flutters over to him. You don’t know if you’re thankful for the reprieve, the momentary alone time to your own thoughts, or unbelievably hurt as you watch her take his jacket and hang it in the coat closet, happy to do it despite the turmoil hidden beneath all her inebriated twirling.
On the inside, your world is fracturing down the middle, drifting apart steadily like the planes of Pangaea— but this stupid awful guy just shrugs out a kink in his neck, turning back to your mother (who’s only slightly embraced on your account) to swoop down and thank her with a peck to the lips.
The rest of your weak appetite for microwaved dinner flies out the window.
And in your undies and that old beloved tee of your late father’s, you take the chance while they’re distracted to hop off the chair and fly up the steps.
For everyone’s sake, you hope the guy— Sylus, your mind so helpfully provides as you sob into your pillows— is only temporary.
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♡ tags: @leftpoetrymoon @valhalla-soulstealer @gingybimby @crowsandapples @novthirty @mcdepressed290 @jadeloverxd @satansdaughter123 @blitziwitch @luminaaaz @eialovescats @noliniodeaes @dramaticalsachan @loudhologramturtle @softiepeachess @reni502 @datfangirl @lilyalone @thatsbunnysmind @lioria @floooring @babyx91 @rosie279 @calistaxoxo24 @kingheinrey @msturi2u @theplaid-wearingmoose @blueseachelle @themonotonysyndrome @crazyartist0001-blog @librarydame @deathlycrow @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @terriblesoup @floofycookie @sdlyoongi @hikaakox @melba1982 @crimsonsylus @miuangel @ravynstreasure @corvo-core ✦ ask to be added to the taglist! just make sure you have an age in your bio (17+) ✨ hopefully i got everyone down lol :,)
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ds-angel1 · 1 day ago
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little brother!rafe x honey!reader headcannons
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cw: incest, praise and degradation kink, mommy kink, masturbation
their mother died, and something in rafe curdled, turned soft and needy and wrong. he clings to his sister like she’s warmth, like she’s safety, like she’s the only thing left. but grief twisted into something heavier. something sick. he looks at her like she’s holy. and sometimes, she doesn’t look away.
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Always trailing behind you like a lost puppy. Rafe has no life of his own, he just sort of… drifts in and out of rooms you’re in. If you’re on the couch, he’s suddenly sitting beside you. If you get up, he follows. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it half the time. It’s instinct.
Hyper-aware of your mood. You could sigh once and Rafe’s immediately asking, "Are you mad at me?" He overanalyzes every shift in your tone and expression, convinced he’s somehow disappointed you. You tell him you’re fine, he doesn’t believe you. Cue the 2 a.m. text: “I’m sorry for whatever I did. Please don’t hate me.”
Lives for praise. Your approval is his lifeblood. You say, “Good job,” and he lights up like he just won a Nobel Prize. He’ll do literally anything if he thinks you’ll say you’re proud of him, even the most pathetic little chores like holding your bag or fetching you water.
Crippling fear of abandonment. This boy has an abandonment complex on steroids. If you get even slightly fed up with him, he goes straight to panicked begging. “Please don’t leave me, I’ll stop- I’ll be quiet, I swear.”
Would absolutely let you bully him. Make fun of him? He blushes. Laugh at how clingy he is? He gets embarrassed but won’t stop. You call him pathetic and he melts. He wants to be your good little brother so bad, even if it means getting stepped on a bit.
Touch-starved to the point of weird. Rafe craves your touch like it’s a drug. Hugs last too long. He leans into it when you ruffle his hair or put a hand on his shoulder like it means more than it should. If you ever scratch his back absentmindedly, he goes boneless and practically purrs.
Gets jealous in ways that don’t make sense. Rafe will glare daggers at anyone who gets too close to you, friends, dates, even strangers. If a guy flirts with you, he gets twitchy and mean. If you flirt back, he goes dead silent. Later that night, he’ll corner you with glassy eyes and ask, “Why do you act like they matter more than me?”
Has thought about what it would be like if it was just you and him. He fantasizes about it. Not even always in a sexual way, sometimes it's just peaceful. Just you and him, somewhere no one else can get to. Somewhere no one can take you away. And maybe sometimes it is sexual. He hates himself for it. But that doesn't stop him.
Masturbates to the idea of you comforting him. It’s not even always dirty in his head, just the fantasy of crying into your chest, of him needing you, of him falling asleep tangled up in your arms. Sometimes it turns into something more. Something he’ll never tell you about. Something he can’t tell you about.
Gets off on your dominance, even when it’s just big sister stuff. You scold him? He gets breathless. You slap the back of his head and call him pathetic? His cheeks flush and he looks away, but his fingers twitch. You yell at him and he practically shakes. He doesn’t even know why it affects him like that. He just wants more.
Calls you mommy. When he’s tired, his little sense of boundaries he usually had gone, brain fuzzy as he cuddled up to you on the couch, you hear him murmur a soft, "mommy". The word made you tense up, your gaze falling on the framed picture of your dead mother on the bookshelf as Rafe snuggled even closer.
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wakandas-vibranium · 1 day ago
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What You Want With Me…?
Summary: Annie takes control one smoldering Mississippi night, and Smoke inevitably learns what it feels like to be completely undone.
Pairing: Annie x Elijah "Smoke" Moore
Warnings: smutty smut, milking, edging, degradation, praise, dom!annie, sub!smoke, use of the n-word
Word count: 2.9k
The ceiling fan clicks impotently. The room feels sweltering, damp, and too intimate. Smoke is on edge, as he always is. Without even moving, Annie dances around him like she owns the air he breathes and the floor he paces. She isn't trying to dominate him necessarily; she's just seeking the truth of him. She's experienced the tingling bite of his submission in flashes and flickers. She’s had but a mere taste the last few times. Tonight, she wants it all.
Annie is casually leaning against the doorway of the small barn house she and Smoke have grown to frequent over the last month or so. She’s wearing a pale blue nightgown that subtly hugs all of her curves. Cocoa brown skin that’s softer than room-temperature butter glistening lightly from the relentless Mississippi summer sun.
She watches Smoke light one of the two cigarettes that she saw Stack roll for him earlier as she contemplates how to get Smoke to give in fully not only to her but also to what his body craves.
She finally speaks, “You gon’ let me touch you the way I know you need, or you gon’ keep frontin’ like you don’t flinch every time I get close?”
Smoke doesn’t look up, but she catches the tiny smirk on his face as he says, “You talk too damn much, Annie.”
Annie straightens up and takes a few steps towards him, slow and calm. “Mmhm. But you ain’t moved since I started. C’mon, Elijah. I ain’t tryna break you. I just wanna see you melt.”
Smoke finally lifts his head and glances up at her, stormy brown eyes sharp. “I don’t melt, woman.”
She grins as she brushes her fingers up his inner thigh. “Yeah, you do, Elijah. You just don’t want me to see it.”
She removes the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out. He turns away from her to exhale the last bits of smoke hanging on his breath.
He holds her by the waist as he looks up into her eyes again, this time with an intense gaze of determination that surprises her. He exhales deeply and nods once as he pushes his body into Annie, giving her permission to take the reins. 
She takes her time removing his shirt and trousers. She gently pushes him back until he sits comfortably on the wooden chair. She uses his suspenders to tie both his muscled arms to the chair legs. There’s a brief moment of protest in his eyes, but he pushes it down. He sighs deeply again and relaxes his shoulders and completely surrenders to Annie, the woman he loves. God help him.
After stripping herself bare, she straddles him, but she doesn’t line his hardening cock against her wet heat. Not yet. She kisses his collarbone. She plants a kiss on the corner of his mouth. His jaw clenches and unclenches with each kiss. Then his full lips and his mustache tickle her top lip the way she likes it every time he deepens the kiss.
Annie breaks the kiss and whispers, “Every time we fuck, you fight it. You rush. Like you scared of what happens if you slow down.” His eyes drop, and she cups his face, eyes softening as he gazes back into hers. “I ain’t scared of it. So let me take you there, Elijah.”
He finally admits the truth, “I trust you.”
Her hands slid down his chest. Over his toned stomach. To his cock. She grips it loosely, and his breathing stutters.
Annie lifts off his lap and circles him slowly as she thinks on how to start first. 
It smells like sawdust and summer heat in the barn. Moonlight seeps through the slats in the walls, catching the fine sheen of sweat already glistening across Smoke’s chest.
The ties ain’t too tight, but they’re intentional. Just enough tension to remind him that he ain’t goin’ nowhere unless she says so.
Annie stops behind him, her voice low and as warm as molasses as she says, “You ever notice how jumpy you get when you ain’t the one callin’ the shots?”
She drags her fingers up his bare arms, tantalizingly slow. He shivers. He doesn’t answer her. His mind and body are tussling for control and his body is in the lead. 
She leans down, mouth against his ear, “You trust me to pull your trigger, Elijah? Hmm?” She places a hot kiss below his ear, a spot that always makes his brain short-circuit. “Or you still convinced all I wanna do is tame you?”
With gritted teeth and tensing thighs, Smoke says, “I told you before, woman, I ain’t nobody’s pet.” 
Smoke feels her smirk against his skin and bites back a groan. Annie takes his ear between her teeth, nibbling gently. “And yet here you are, tied up with your own damn clothes. Eager to watch me peel you open like one of my sweet potatoes.” 
He grunts, cock twitching twice against his thigh, but he doesn’t say another word. 
Annie slides in front of him now, crouching between his knees. She rests her chin against his knee and looks at his raging hardness, then up into his eyes, her gaze soft yet commanding. “I don’t want your obedience, Elijah. I want your surrender. That part of you you only show when you think I’m not payin’ attention.” 
His voice is tight, eyes burning with a ferocity so intense only she could handle. “You don’t know what you askin’ for, Annie.” 
She nods once and whispers, “Yes, I do.”
She wraps her hand around the base of his cock. It’s warm and heavy. Eager. She doesn’t rush. She doesn’t squeeze or stroke. She just holds him there, firm. “Look at that… already halfway there. You ain’t even fightin’ it no more.”
The wood creaks once under his weight as he shifts in the chair. He hates not having access to his hands but doesn’t comment on it. Annie can already tell from one look. He shifts again, extending one of his legs. Not to pull away from her but to ground himself. She watches his abs tighten and his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he fights back a moan. 
His cock has an impressive rigidity…it is harder than it’s ever been. She files that away in her mind for later. He’s heavy, throbbing, and leaking already, which is where the real fun begins. 
And he hates how fast it happened.
That is what she loves the most. He talks like he is in charge, but his body has been telling on him since she first touched him. 
She spits in her hand and gets a grip on him, stroking loosely just enough to make him twitch. Not enough to give him any kind of relief. 
“Aww, what’s the matter, Elijah? Already breathin’ like you close, and I ain’t even really started.”
Smoke glares at her, “Shut the hell up, woman.”
Annie smirks, her voice laced with sweet cruelty, “Ohhh, there he go. Talkin’ tough while I got your dick in my hand.” She leans forward and kisses the swollen tip. “You always this mouthy when you’re tied up and needy?”
He flinches at the kiss, half from sensitivity, half from embarrassment. She licks a slow stripe up the underside of him, and his thighs tighten instinctively.
Smoke grunts, struggling to keep his composure, “You keep runnin’ that mouth, and I swear—”
Annie cuts him off with a snicker, “—You gon’ what? Hmm? Buck against the restraints I put on you?” Her eyes soften just a tad as she sees the raw desire burning in his eyes. “Baby, you talk like you got power in this moment. But you’re already spillin’ in my hand.”
She pumps him slowly. Cruel. Just the kind of pace that makes a man ache instead of climax.
He’s breathing harder now, trying to stay still, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing him unravel.
Annie kisses the inside of his thigh and asks, “You know what I love?” She pumps him a little faster. “Watching you fight it. Watchin’ your jaw clench, your chest rise, your pretty little dick beggin’ for mercy while you pretend you don’t love this shit.”
He hisses through his teeth. He’s close. So close. But he won’t say it. Won’t warn her.
Annie coos, “Go on, Elijah. Cum for me. I know it’s right there. Be a good boy and gimme that first one.”
Smoke groans again, louder this time, breaths coming in shorter, “Fuck you—”
Annie giggles, “You wish. Now hush and cum.”
She twists her wrist just right, leans in, and whispers, “My good fuckin’ boy,” right as his whole body seizes.
Smoke groans, deep, guttural, and involuntary. His thighs jerk, toes curling in his boots as he spills hot and messy across her hand and thigh.
He’s panting. Shaking. Spewing all kinds of filthy curses. That doesn’t stop Annie because she’s already reaching for him again. 
Smoke half-drunk off release, body on fire with ecstasy, slurs out, “Annie… wait, wait, I—fuuckk, I need a minute.”
Annie hums while stroking him slowly again, already coaxing him back to full hardness. “No, baby. You needed a minute. That was one.” She leans in slowly to kiss him, pink tongue pushing past his full lips with filthy precision, “Now I wanna see what that mouthy attitude sounds like when you cum for the second time.”
A deep, low whine escapes his throat. He shocks himself, completely unaware he could even make a noise so desperate. She laughs softly, presses her forehead to his, and whispers, “You so fuckin’ pretty when you give up the fight, Elijah. My sweet, stubborn mess.”
He’s still breathing heavily. His thighs are shaking, his wrists tug uselessly at the suspenders holding him in place. But she hasn’t stopped. Won’t stop. One hand still pumps him slick now, easier, crueler. His cock is sensitive, reddening at the tip, twitching like it’s confused between pain and pleasure.
Smoke grunts and gasps, “Annie… f-fuck… I said I need a goddamn second—”
Annie giggles mockingly, “Aww, and I said I ain’t done with you.” She leans in to kiss his nose. “You gave me one. I want more. You said you could handle me, didn’t you? What happened to all that bark, huh?”
He jerks in the chair when she thumbs the crown, swiping the underside with the perfect amount of pressure. His cock is sensitive as hell now. His hips lift like his body’s betraying him.
Annie continues, “Still tryna pretend like you ain’t mine? Even when you moanin’ through clenched teeth and squirmin’ like this?”
Smoke chokes out a moan, “You ain’t… I ain’t…”
Annie says sharply, her voice laced with lust, “Say it.” She pumps him with both hands now, drastically slow and downright mean. “Say who you belong to right now, Elijah.”
He shakes his head, his face scrunching like he’s trying not to cry. She kisses him again even more possessively than the last time and still doesn’t stop stroking.
A broken, shaky moan slips out of his throat. “Shit…Annie, please.”
Annie freezes mid stroke, but only for a few seconds. “Ohhh?” She leans back and tilts her head cockily, “Did you just beg? Elijah Smoke Moore…said please?”
He jerks again, head dropping back against the chair, throat exposed, lips parted in something that’s not a scream but damn sure wants to be.
Annie strokes him even faster now and whispers, “That’s what I wanted. That’s what you been fightin’ this whole time. You know how beautiful you are like this? All messy and needy and mine?”
Smoke lets out a desperate sound, barely coherent as he begs, “A-Annie… I’m close—again, I—fuuuckk, I can’t, it’s too much, I—”
Annie leans in again, mouth dropping by his ear, “Yes, you can. You gon’ give it to me. Gonna let go, baby. You hold so much shit in, you forget how to fall apart.”
She speeds up, her hand steady even as his body jerks and trembles. He can’t even form words. Too blissed out.
Annie moans, drunk on lust and love and pure domination, “Let me ruin you, Elijah. Come on. Be good for me.”
That’s it. That’s the word that undoes him.
He lets out a strained, broken sound. His back arches, thighs trembling uncontrollably as he comes again. It’s messier this time. Louder. He groans her name like a confession, like one of her bayou curses and one of his uncle’s Sunday prayers all at once.
She slows her hand but doesn’t completely stop. 
Not yet.
His chest is heaving. Sweat drips down his temple. He’s slumped in the chair, wrecked, blinking slowly like he just woke up from a dream he didn’t want to leave.
Annie climbs into his lap, careful not to overstimulate him again…yet.
She cradles his face and kisses him gently this time. Tender. Safe.
Annie shushes him, “There he is. The real you. The one I’ve been waitin’ on.”
Smoke slowly comes to, unable to look her in the eye just yet, but asks anyway, “You… you gon’ tell Stack?”
Annie chuckles softly as she rests her forehead against his. “What? That I tied your proud ass up and made you say please twice? Hell no. That’s our secret.” Then she whispers, “Unless you act up. Then I might have to remind you who really runnin’ shit ‘round here.”
Smoke's ears and cheeks warm immediately. He shakes his head fondly at her, “You evil.”
Annie kisses him again, smiling brightly. “No, baby. I’m just honest. And tonight? So were you.”
His head lolls back against the chair, body limp, thighs still twitching from the second orgasm. He’s covered in sweat, hair sticking to the back of his neck, lips parted like he’s trying to say something but forgot how words work.
And Annie? Annie’s glowing. THRIVING. Annie is captivated by his sounds, brimming with power, yet her satisfaction remains unfulfilled.
Annie drags her nails down his chest and lines him up, “One more, Elijah. That’s all I want. One more. You got it in you, I know you do.”
Smoke lets out a shaky breath, eyes heavy. “Annie, baby, I—” He groans deeply when he feels her wet heat sliding over him. “Fuck. You tryna kill a nigga or what?”
Annie moans loudly as she sinks down onto him, slow and deep. “No, baby. I’m tryna feel you. Just like this. All of you.”
He gasps when he’s fully buried in her soaked heat, tight walls squeezing the life out of him. The overstimulation hits like a lightning strike, but the warmth of her, the rhythm of her hips? Her warmth and the rhythm of her hips simultaneously soothe and wreck him. 
She’s so wet, so soft around him, and still so fucking intentional. She moves in slow rolls, grinding deep instead of bouncing, letting him feel everything.
Annie braces her hands on his broad shoulders, panting softly, “Let it happen. Don’t fight me this time.” She moans loudly as she swirls her hips, “Let it be good, Elijah. For both of us.”
He tries. God, he tries. He whimpers against her lips, too far gone to be ashamed of the desperate noises he makes now because her rhythm is too much and too perfect.
She kisses him like he’s long-lost treasure and only she can locate it without a map. 
Her own orgasm builds slowly and low in her belly. It burns. Tightens. She can feel him throbbing inside her, close again even though he swore he couldn’t go another round.
He’s trembling. Arms yanking at the restraints. His breath is stuttering against her mouth. But he won’t look away. His voice barely manages to crack out a warning, “Annie…shit woman. I’m—I’m gonna—”
Annie clenches around him tighter, panting into his mouth, “Me too. Cum with me, baby.”
Their sweat-glistening foreheads press together as they both tip over the edge—his third, her first. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she shudders around him, crying out his name, hips still moving through it. He lets out the softest, most broken sound of the night, almost a sob, and spills inside her, twitching and gasping, completely wrecked and utterly fucked.
She stays on him for a moment, chests pressed together, heartbeats wild and tangled.
He’s limp in the chair. Breathless. Shaky. His arms are still tied, and his wrists are tugging slightly against the suspenders.
Annie whispers softly, brushing sweat off his face, “You did so good for me, Elijah. I got you now. I got you always.”
She reaches behind the chair, slowly unhooking the suspenders from around his wrists. Red marks bloom across his skin. The marks are faint but tender. She lifts each wrist to her lips and kisses the spots gently, reverently.
Annie asks him, “You okay?” 
Smoke is too out of it to form words, so he just nods. Barely. His massive arms wrap around her waist like it’s all he can manage. He buries his face in her neck, breathing her in like fresh air after drowning.
She shifts just enough to pull a tattered blanket from the nearby haystack and wraps it around both of them while they sit in the chair, tangled, sweat-slick, and completely undone.
Annie rocks him gently while whispering into his ear, “You can let go with me. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to now. He just holds her tighter against his spent body.
And outside the barn, the crickets chirp. The night stretches on, reticent and revered.
ach. To
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chwerio · 21 hours ago
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BELT LOOPS
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PAIRING: bf!vernon x reader
CONTENT: drabble, fluff, established relationship, vernon is very loving here! (possibly a teensie bit ooc), reader has a little anxiety in crowded places, slightly suggestive (kissing, allusions to sex [barely])
WORD COUNT: 1.2k
SUMMARY: three ways in which vernon uses the belt loops of your jeans not for its intended purpose.
note: i love kiwi vernon guys...................................
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WHEN YOU'RE DEFIANT, it's usually out of pettiness. Though you aren't directly opposed to it, there's lingering annoyance in your demenor. Vernon knows that when your chin turns away from him, it's a disapproval of your loss in rock-paper-scissors. Well, losers weepers.
"So, I guess it's pasta tonight," he says, following behind you. You can hear the cheekiness in his voice, that of a winner's tone.
You slow down your strides on the sidewalk, making room for him to walk beside you. "Guess so."
He's trying. He's really trying to resist the smile that creeps up on his face, but right now, you need coddling because you just lost a pizza night again.
At the crosswalk, Vernon notices the distance between you guys. He notices the stubbornness in your stance, the way your arms are crossed, and your pursed lips. For a second he actually thinks you're upset, but he knows you well enough that you'd speak up if you had concerns.
"Why do you propose a game of rock-paper-scissors when you never win?" He asks. "You know, we could just get pizza--"
"That'd be cheating!" You exclaim. "And since you won fair and square, we should make… pasta."
Vernon only smirks, nodding to your words. "Right. It would be unfair since I won--even if I was offering to have your choice tonight."
"Exactly." You murmur, watching the crosswalk's signal.
He rolls his eyes, adjusting his leather jacket. Your eyes remain set on the light, avoiding his gaze.
When the signal changes, you’re just about to step forward before Vernon gently tugs at your waist, fingers hooking into your belt loop, making you catch your breath. He casually pulls you closer, then unhooks his fingers and throws his arm over your shoulders.
“You’re a sore loser,” he mutters closely, just loud enough for you to hear.
Your pace falters and becomes one with his, and despite his playful insult, you let one arm wrap behind his back. You exhale through your nose--half laugh and sigh. “Is that offer for my choice still available?”
Vernon clicks his tongue in disbelief, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m not too sure about that. You already turned it down and made a very good point on how that would be cheating.”
You glance up to be met with his dorky grin. “Yeah, you’re right. Pasta it is then…”
He tugs you closer, quickly pressing a kiss on the side of your head. “We’ll save pizza for next time, definitely. No games, alright?”
"Fine, no games." You giggle.
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WHEN IT'S CROWDED, it's a mutual agreement that losing each other is the last thing you need happening. Whether it's a concert, downtown, or heck, even a rave, you both agree that you must stick together.
In the sea of bodies, Vernon navigates you to the nearest wall at some house party Mingyu invited you both to. The bass is not favourable. The songs pounding through the speakers are so loud that you don't even hear what reassuring comment Vernon makes everytime he looks back at you.
You lip read, "I dislocated my shoulder," and you know that's not what he's really saying--it's the music's fault, you think to yourself. All you can do is nod awkwardly as he leads you in further.
It feels endless, the shoulder bumping and the occasional running into. Until it actually hits you, well, a body that is. You're inadvertently shoved back by a stranger who profusely apologizes once you caught your balance.
"No, no, it's okay, really!" You assure them. Except, it really wasn't okay. You've lost Vernon.
You don't remember feeling this nervous in a place like this. The bodies around you move like waves, not giving you a chance to look over them. And sure, you have been to parties like this before, but maybe you forgot what those are like without Vernon.
"Let's find the nearest wall," was what he said before you entered the house. It plays over and over in your head until you feel something pull at your waist.
When you look to your side, Vernon's fingers hook into your belt loop, pulling you flush to his side. He slips his fingers out and places a hand on your lower back, ushering you to a more secluded area.
He lowers his head right by your ear, quietly whispering, "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah, I'm okay," you whisper back. "Thanks though. I was actually a bit freaked out when I couldn't see you anymore. It's crazy in there, I don't know where Mingyu would even enjoy himself."
"Beats me," he chuckles. "There's for sure way too many people in this house. No way that's allowed, right?"
You hum, the weight on you feeling a lot less now.
Vernon takes your hand into his, raising it up to his lips to lightly peck. "Let's just hold hands for the night so we don't lose each other again, okay?"
Gosh, if your heart could not feel even warmer than it already was, Vernon was there to prove you wrong.
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WHEN HE NEEDS YOU, he'll never outwardly say it. It's not that he can't verbally express himself, it's just that this is a different feeling. Instead, he'll show you, or there will be signs that your boyfriend is craving your touch.
Whatever mundane chore you're doing right now, he's watching. Not watching how you handle the mugs--he's watching you.
As he shyly approaches the counter, he places his phone on the marble with a light thud to make his presence known, just so he doesn't startle you.
"Hey, Nonie," you chirp, placing the mug back down. Your attention averts to him, who is stalking closer until he stands on the opposite side of you.
"Hey," he quietly says, resting his lower back against the counter, "need help?"
You sigh, turning your back to continue sorting the cups. "No, I'm just about done now. Sleep well?"
"Mhm... yeah," Vernon mumbles, voice low. He shifts his body lazily against the counter, his hands acting as anchors on its edges. "Was kind of cold, though, y’know, since you woke up early ‘n left me." he adds, hoping you'd pick up on what he really means.
And here you are grinning to yourself because you know exactly what he wants--no, needs.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that..." You say, giving him faux sympathy.
Vernon doesn't immediately respond, only letting out a scoff jokingly. He notices that you're not out of arm's reach, so with his hand raised, he sneaks his fingers into your belt loop, tugging you back lightly.
You're glad you aren't holding any glass cups because you barely manage to ground it on the counter before your back meets with his chest.
His head dips to your neck, lips brushing your skin, and he finally mutters, "You can make it up to me."
When he removes his fingers from your belt loop, you feel his hands grip each side of your waist, gently spinning you around so that you're facing him.
"That bad, huh?" You laugh, throwing your arms over his shoulders. "Since you're so cute, I might as well..."
Vernon flashes you his wide smile, hugging you closer. His head leans towards yours, capturing your lips with his. As his kiss deepens, it's a bit lazy but with intent, the kind that expresses himself without needing to say it out loud. Boy, is he glad to have you.
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another note: thank u for reading my first fic posted on here
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gloomwitchwrites · 3 days ago
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Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Twelve
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader
Chapter Specific Warnings: post-apocalypse au, swearing, oral sex, vaginal fingering, hand job, non-penetrative sex, baby trapping
Word Count: 4.2k
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You acquiesce to Simon’s one wish before he leaves on deployment. Trust is shattered. Blood is drawn.
Chapter Eleven // Chapter Thirteen
ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist
Weak.
You are weak.
Such small gestures seem to crack you open, revealing your insides as if you’re a sacrificial animal. Bones become tokens. Shaken. Dropped. Read. Deepest desires—fears—smeared in bloody perfection. How easily Simon severed you. How fresh.
I’ve forgotten what you taste like.
How sharp the blade.
“That’s what you want.”
A simple statement. You need not ask it as a question. From the start, you’ve known this. Simon’s physical desire for you. It’s a living thing. Alive. Nearly monstrous. Does he think you don’t know? That you don’t see it?
“It is,” confirms Simon, moving in.
Your stomach flips. Fluttering. Driving up into your throat and down between your thighs. Lips dangerously close to yours. Seeking. Muscles and limbs move of their own accord. You go up on your toes, lips parting, eyelids growing heavy with the anticipation of Simon closing the distance. Of taking what he’s clearly craving.
But he wants more.
Grasping the back of your neck, Simon forces your head back, throat arching slightly as he makes your mouth available to him.
A kiss is nothing. Simple. Fleeting. So short a thing. Easily given away.
But when Simon seizes what he’s after, the fire it unleashes is untamable. You moan, hands grasping his biceps, fingers digging in to keep him in place. As much as you push him away, another side of you is interested, and it snatches all control.
Weak.
You are weak.
And for the moment, you don’t entirely care.
Simon’s consumption is slow and deliberate. He drags each kiss out. Savoring. As if storing them in memory. The thought is sobering, devolving some of the ignited fired into cooler embers. He is leaving. Heading into a warzone. While you don’t doubt his abilities, survival is never certain. Not when you’re a potential target.
I’ve forgotten what you taste like.
If Simon wants to spend the evening with his head between your legs, you won’t deny him.
Keeping one hand on the back of your neck, Simon’s other hand descends over waist and hip, curving to your ass, squeezing so hard you nearly come off the floor.
“Simon,” you gasp, startled by the upward momentum.
“Want you like I had you,” and there is pure desperation in his voice. “Naked. And open for me.”
You were a deviant that day, wanting nothing more than to feel a man between your thighs. To feel full and wanted. To be fucked without emotion. There you were, on your back, completely bare, hands beneath your knees, holding yourself open for Simon’s gaze. But you didn’t know him as Simon then. Just Ghost. Just Lieutenant.
Today, unlike every day before, the relationship is different. Shifted. A wisp of vulnerability that wasn’t there previously. You want to explore it. Just a bit. Tease it into the open to find out if Simon’s interest is deeper than carnal urges.
“Then take it off me,” you probe, a flare of naughtiness sparking in your stomach.
Simon’s answer is a pleased sound. Almost primal. You think he might as he teases the hem of your top. But Simon shakes his head like he’s chastising you for poor behavior.
“Want to watch you,” he murmurs with a playful smile.
Simon steps back. Drops his hands from your body. Gaze roaming over every inch of you as if he can see through your clothes. It takes all your strength to not look away from him, to retain eye contact rather than succumb to flustered embarrassment. Lying to yourself would be silly. It’s a nice sensation to know you’re desired.
With slow, creeping hands, you drag your top up and over your head, holding the fabric over your breasts for a moment before dropping it at your feet. Simon’s observation leaves nothing unseen, and when you go to remove your bra, you find yourself wanting to cover yourself from his gaze.
“Don’t,” he growls, but there is no venom in it. “Let me see you.”
You drop your arm, baring your breasts to him. Simon inhales sharply, nostrils flaring. His hands twitch with the itch to touch. One raises. Quickly drops. Lifts again. You’re hardly breathing—hardly moving as Simon reaches out.
At first, it’s the tips of his fingers brushing against your skin. Then it’s his palm softly resting below the curve of your left breast. Simon is transfixed, and you’ve only removed two pieces of clothing.
“Simon,” you manage to say, unsure of what you’re trying to accomplish.
As if yanked from a dream, Simon’s gaze snaps to your face. His hand drops sharply. “Couldn’t help myself, dove.”
You swallow. Saliva thick in your throat. “It’s okay.” You take that hand in yours. Bring it back to your body. Place it between your breasts. “You’re warm. I like it.”
Simon shivers, his eyelids fluttering slightly as he moves in. “Remove the rest. Or I might tear it off you.”
Your pussy clenches at the threat.
Oh, fuck.
Simon’s hand lingers on your body even as you wiggle out of your pants and underwear. The moment you’re completely naked, Simon surges forward, dragging you against him. Showing off his strength, Simon bends at the knees and slides his arms under your thighs, turning his hands up to grasp your ass as he lifts you off the ground and into his arms. You instinctually hook your arms around the back of his neck.
A few steps and you’re on your back with Simon above you, fully clothed. You close your legs but Simon grunts, his hands on your knees, forcing them open. The cool air brushes over your pussy. The muscles tense, and you know that Simon notices the small movement.
His chest heaves, and the look on his face is overwhelming. You’d think yourself a meal in his eyes, but that’s not right. Hunger is certainly there. But something hides beneath it, lurking in the darkest part of Simon’s brown irises.
You dare a chance. To demand from him.
Placing your foot against his stomach, you lightly push him back. “And what about you, Lieutenant? You were naked that morning. I…remember.”
Simon remains where he is, gaze assessing. “And what do you remember?”
I remember how much I begged for your dick.
“You want a barrier between us?”
Simon smirks, grasping your ankle. “You’re goading me, dove.”
You match his smile. “Is it working?”
Guiding your foot back to the bed, Simon reaches for his belt. The buckle clinks. Leather snaps. The front of his jeans is open as he removes his shirt, revealing thick muscles underneath. Both of Simon’s arm are tatted. Sleeves that start at his shoulders and end at his wrists. There are scars, too. Some hardly visible. Others jagged and distinct. But it’s the thickness of him that you’ve forgotten. That underneath, Simon is very much the soldier.
Simon holds your gaze a moment before he grips the top of his jeans, sliding them down over his thighs and to his ankles. He straightens his back. Hides nothing. Your gaze promptly shifts to his dick.
“Am I to your liking?” teases Simon, placing a knee on the edge of the bed.
There’s a bit of stiffness to him, like his full arousal is sitting on a sharp edge, waiting to tumble into existence. A heady memory resurfaces. One of Simon kneeling between your spread legs, jerking himself to hardness as you told him how much you hated him.
At the time, you did.
Now, not so much.
You’re still bitter about what happened. It wasn’t Simon’s place to yank you from your life, to drag you back to this goddamn city for the sake of humanity. The outside pressure of finding the nearest man to mount and breed is also its own slap in the face. If you want to fuck every man in this Safe Zone without producing a baby, that’s your choice.
It should always be your choice.
But the anger you had has ebbed. There are qualities in Simon that you appreciate, and his behavior today is refreshing after so much. He was soft with you. Patient.
You’re warming to him.
Frustratingly so.
And you’ll never admit it to him. You won’t admit it to anyone.
Sparks of heat bloom where Simon’s hands explore. Leaning on your elbows, you can only observe him while he enjoys himself. The slow way he explores is a subtle passion. Touching is enough for him. It could sustain him for the rest of his life if you allow it. It’s far from what you’ve known. You’re used to men getting to the point. Some quick rubbing, and then they’re balls deep, exploding after a few strokes. They don’t care for kissing. Touching even less.
But Simon is utterly absorbed with your body, content with where things are.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, squeezing your thigh. The bit of pressure he applies eases your leg wider. “Simply stunning.”
The appreciation in his gaze steals every snarky remark from your head. Not even Zac, who everyone back home thought you’d settle with, looked at you like Simon does now. It’s scary. Frightening. It’s the most vulnerability you’ve seen from him, and as much as it startles you, it makes you…happy.
Your time here has been laced with secrecy. Everyone dances around the truth, avoiding your questions until your head fucking spins. But today, Simon sat down with you, did his best to explain things. Not only that. He saw how overwhelmed you were, and he fucking did something about it. Simon took control of the situation, and you had the opportunity to simply exist, to enjoy the moment for the first time since your arrival.
It was attractive. Lovely. Action over words.
“You don’t mean that,” you breathe, wanting to hide from him.
It’s too much. Separation is paramount. It is how you’ve survived for so long. Not that you’ll escape this place. Not like you can climb over the walls or dig a tunnel underneath. You are trapped here, and this man is upending everything, causing you to question why there is such a thunderous fluttering in your chest.
Simon’s body lowers, one hand pressing firmly into the duvet. It sinks beneath his weight. You ease back, allowing him room—allowing him space as he settles above you. His fingers dance like snowflakes across your skin, melting at the contact, bringing heat as much as it brings a chill. Higher they roam. Teasing. Tracing.
“I think of you every day,” whispers Simon. His breath is warm against your cheek. A distraction to lure you to his lips.
And it fucking works.
Sensitive and soft. Pliable. You open for him, and Simon slides his tongue inside, his hand closing around your throat as he pins you to the bed. This is not what you imagined. It’s so much more. A twisting vine of desire. Sticky webbing that binds your bodies together.
“No,” you gasp between kisses. “You don’t. That’s not true.”
The denial shifts Simon’s focus. His grip on your throat lessens, but he uses his hips as added weight, keeping you pinned beneath him.
“What have I told you, dove.”
Your inner thigh grazes against his outer, your heel coming to rest on his calf muscle. Saliva sits heavy in the back of your throat. You attempt to swallow. Nearly choke on the truth.
“You don’t lie,” you murmur, hardly recognizing your own voice.
Simon steals a kiss, and it is all pure possession. “You think I’m lying now?”
Yes.
No.
“I don’t know,” you admit, because the uncertainty outweighs the trust. You want to believe Simon, but you’re also hesitant—weary of the future.
What happens if you let him in completely?
“You afraid of me?” asks Simon. “Think I’ll hurt you?”
This you know the answer to. “No. I don’t think you will.”
Amusement pulls at the corner of his lips. “You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you, dove?” His thumb presses to your bottom lip. Adds a bit of pressure. Drags it down enough for him to observe your canines. “Don’t think I want you?”
Your lip pops back into place. “I know you do.”
“Only want this moment with you. Before I go.” His nostrils flare, and Simon exhales slowly. “That’s all.”
Tentatively, you press your lips against his in gentle acceptance. Simon melts, returning the gesture. Intimacy is a fragile thing. Sacred. The two of you lie together like lovers. Entangled. Passionate.
But it’s only for tonight.
He’s leaving.
Simon cups one breast in his palm, thumb brushing over the nipple, bringing it to stiffness. You moan softly at the contact. The small break gives him an opening to descend, to explore your throat with his mouth, to nip and tongue on his way down. To suck one and then the other nipple into his mouth. Simon kisses between your breasts. Kisses the space above your belly button. Lower. Lower still. Your hip falls to him next. Then the inside of your thigh.
Closer.
Closer.
Simon’s groan of pleasure is palpable. Thick. His nose nuzzles the space above your clitoral hood, breath warm against your sex. Veiny forearms snake up and over your thighs, becoming hooks—becoming anchors.
His name is on the tip of your tongue, awaiting release, to be brought into the world. The moment it unfurls, Simon’s tongue runs over your pussy. A soft lick. A tease of a taste. You shudder. Gasp. Simon’s arms tighten around your thighs, tugging you closer to his mouth.
Just as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, Simon mimics the movement with your pussy, the tip of his nose pumping against your clit. The muscles in your thighs tense, squeezing the sides of Simon’s head. He appears unbothered by the pressure, his tongue working in and over you in lazy strokes.
Simon adjusts his grip on your left thigh. Instead of a hooked arm, he retreats, using his palm as a weight. Easing that leg back, you’re opened even wider, unable to do anything other than take his tongue in whatever pace he wants to set.
There is no hurry. No rush. No lashing or rushing need. Every nerve is firing. Your skin aflame. Writhing. Wiggling. Gasping for air until you’re nearly breathless. You claw at the bed. At Simon’s arm. Nails dig in, leaving half-moons behind.
Your lungs are full of him—full of Simon.
Smokey. Minty. Mixing with the tinge of sex in the air. Of the scent of your arousal. The blissful floral bite of the coneflowers.
It’s headache inducing. Brain-splitting.
You are perfectly ripe. A bloody pomegranate. Flush grapefruit. Simon is the fingers breaking the skin, shearing you open to get at the gorgeously plump flesh beneath. He sucks at the sections, separating the juicy pulp from the rind, consuming you until there is nothing left.
The orgasm is a hammer, nailing you into the wood, pushing you down down down—down.
That is when the blood comes, when your nails pierce Simon’s flesh, when your back comes off the bed in ecstasy. Simon sucks on your clit harder, pulling a fierce scream from you.
Bright and blinding, the room quiets, your senses narrowing down to a pinpoint. All you know is Simon’s tongue on you, lapping lazily as the orgasm flows through your limbs. Numbness comes next. A floating cloud of peace. Your nails retreat, leaving little bloody smears behind. Simon kisses your pussy. Kisses your clit. Pushes up and leans on an elbow, inserting one finger then two, pumping slowly.
With a heavy head, you glance between your thighs, only to find Simon’s heated stare, lips and chin glossy and messy.
“Thank you,” he says, voice raspy. Simon presses his arousal-slick lips to your thigh.
You lick your lips, finding your throat and tongue a bit dry. All that damn screaming betrayed you.
“I—” you begin, stuttering slightly as a muscle tremor seizes your legs. “I want to touch you.”
Simon pauses, his fingers to the knuckle inside you but unmoving. “Do you?”
“Come here,” you breathe. “Please.”
A slow drag of his fingers, and then Simon pops them into his mouth, sucking them clean. With a groan, he eases up your body, and you don’t care that your arousal is all over his face. Grasping his cheeks you bring him to your lips. Simon flattens himself over you, his rock-hard erection resting in the space where your thigh and pelvis meet.
“So sweet,” murmurs Simon against your lips, returning his fingers to your sex.
You clench around him and moan, head falling back to expose your throat. Simon runs his sticky lips over your neck as he sets the pace with his fingers.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans.
Your pussy responds to him, sucking on his fingers, drawing him in. In moments, you’re a whimpering, moaning mess. If Simon wants you to touch him, he doesn’t appear to be in any hurry for it to happen. While you’re unraveled, you’re not the only effected party. Simon is wound tight, the muscles in his arms tense, the veins taut and prominent.
A second wave of pleasure builds in the base of your spine, thrusting forward, exploding outward. Sensitive is not the right word. Your skin is buzzing, limbs curling around Simon as he fucks you with his fingers.
“Please,” you beg. “Simon.”
“Please, what?” he croons.
“Wanna touch you, too.”
Begging isn’t pretty. Not when sweat sticks to your brow, and your throat is dry. But regardless of how Simon has treated over this past month, you long to be a participant, to make him fall apart just as he’s done to you.
Simon has to be aching—needing relief. You want to please him. Not from obligation, but from a deep desire to show him that you see him.
“What are you doing, dove?” he asks as your fingers reach for him. Simon’s hips flex backward, retreating from your touch.
“Simon,” you beg. “I want to.”
He shakes his head, lips returning to yours momentarily before leaving again. “What do you want to do? Tell me.”
Simon’s forehead presses against your temple and you turn into him, noses brushing. “Can I touch you? Just touch. That’s all.”
Your fingers brush over his abdomen. The muscles react under your touch, tensing with anticipation. All he asked for was to taste you, to put his mouth on your pussy. You can ask for this.
When your fingers find him, you lightly tease the vein that runs along the side. Simon’s breath hitches, and you seize the opening. He is hot and hard in your hand, clearly needing release, and while your limbs are quickly becoming limp noodles, you want to give him this.
Simon groans, leaning into the movement, hips thrusting shallowly to meet your strokes. You shift your legs wider, sliding them up to hook over the backs of his knees. A feral sound comes from his throat, and it goes straight to your pussy. His thrusts lengthen, and you picture not your hand he’s fucking, but your cunt.
The two of you are entangled.
Simon, draped over you, trapping you against the bed, and you with your legs over his, keeping him close. You know Simon is nearing his end. You can hear it in the way his grunts slowly taper into stilted whimpers.
“I want to watch you come, Simon.”
The words tumble from you unbidden. A confession before taking communion.
But Simon has a different agenda. The controlled leash is yanked from your hand and returned to his. Pushing up and out of your hold, Simon kneels between your spread legs. You reach out, but Simon shoves your hands away, grasping your hips. Your legs are forced into a bent and spread position, angled toward your chest. The stretch hurts, but it’s not what startles you.
All you can do his watch as Simon rests his cock against your pussy, rock his hips back and forth through your wetness. It’s a slow movement—a light thrust. The head of his cock bumps your clit with each pass.
There is no penetration, and for a brief flicker of an instant, you hate it.
“Fucking hell,” growls Simon. “Taking everything in me not to fuck you.”
When you reach out again, all you can grasp is his hand. Simon accepts it, continuing to rub against you, sliding up and down your sex. The head of his cock teases your clit with each movement, and you suddenly don’t care anymore.
You’re strung out on orgasms. Simon is worshipping you. And this room smells of home—of the garden outside your bedroom window.
It’s suffocating.
“Fuck,” he growls, nostrils flaring, muscles tensing.
There is a brief pause, and then Simon grasps the base of his cock, pumping himself once…twice. His release explodes from him, and lands all over your clit. You feel it dripping down your pussy, moving close to the space that had only taken his fingers and tongue.
As you sit up, Simon slides two fingers through his cum, rubbing it over and around your clit. The orgasm that built earlier returns, returning you to your back as your hips flex into his attention. It is so consuming, you don’t notice Simon’s actions at first.
Not until it ebbs.
And then you know it for what it is.
“What are you doing?” you gasp, shoving yourself upward, reaching for his wrist.
Simon withdraws his fingers from your pussy, but the damage is done. All of it is inside you. Every drop.
“What—” Tears bloom in your eyes. You swallow. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Dove—”
“You fucking BASTARD!”
You hurl a pillow at Simon but he knocks it away easily. With a feral growl, you lunge, but it’s a silly notion. Simon is bigger than you. Stronger.
“Stop,” he snarls. “Calm down.”
“How dare you.” You swipe at him with an open palm, but Simon seizes your wrist right out of the air, pinning your arm against your stomach.
You attempt to headbutt him. It’s a shit try. Simon leans away, and you nearly fall over—face first.
“It’s not what you think.”
He sounds desperate. Not angry. Simon’s brown eyes are severe. Troubled. Like you’re absolutely fucking crazy.
Oh, fuck this asshole.
With a strength that surprises you, you yank your arm out of his grasp, fingers poised to gouge out his eyes, to tear him from your memory. To destroy all of this.
“Fuck you!”
As you lunge again, Simon scoops you up and shoves you onto your back, trapping you there.
“Calm down,” he repeats, trying to control your flaying arms. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” you laugh hysterically. “Are you fucking serious?”
The middle of Simon’s brow is cut in a deep v. Concern paints his face, and you want to drown in your sorrow. Is he gaslighting you? Is he truly attempting to cover up what he’s done?
“Get off me,” you snarl, showing your teeth.
“Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what I’ve done.”
If Simon won’t go, you’ll run.
The decision is swift. Survival instinct more than anything. Simon doesn’t see it coming.
Your fingers find the slim vase on the bedside table that holds a bouquet of coneflowers. It’s not heavy. Easy to swing. Simon glances up just as you bring it down on the top of his head.
Glass shatters. Explodes outward.
Simon lunges forward, spreading himself over you, taking the brunt of the impact. You’re not even controlling yourself anymore. The urge to run has bloomed in your chest, that ancient reaction flaring hot.
You’re scrambling. Pushing.
Metal tinges the air. Blood.
“Dove, stop. Stop!”
Glass clinks around you. Tiny pinpricks bite at your skin.
“Please.”
It’s Simon’s voice.
“Get off me,” you gasp, shoving.
Shoving.
Shoving.
The smell of blood intensifies, and the tiny bites become achingly sharp. You shift, and the lash of pain that smashes into you has you crying out.
There is blood dripping down Simon’s face.
There is blood in his hair.
“Dove,” he murmurs, and his tone gives you pause.
His eyes are a bit wide. A bit worried.
Your cheeks sting. You choke.
Sob.
“Dove.”
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vigilante-3073 · 2 days ago
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Daddy's Credit Card
Cullen Family x Female Reader
Jacob Black x Female Reader
PART 14
Summary: The Volturi make their way to Forks and Carlisle wonders if the witnesses they've gathered will be enough.
TW: Mention of broken bones/accidents/blood/religion/death.
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Carlisle stood at the window, watching the snowflakes flutter down onto the ground. The tension in the house was palpable as everyone prepared to face the Volturi. Alice and Jasper still had not returned, but it was beginning to look like they never would.
Esme stepped over to her husband, "I'm sure that everything will work out, Carlisle. We've done everything that we possibly can to show them that we've done nothing wrong," Esme assured.
"Something feels off about all of this. I can't figure out what it is, but it worries me," Carlisle said.
"It's a tense situation. I'd be concerned if you didn't feel a bit off," Esme admitted.
"I was hoping that Alice and Jasper would be back by now, but we're out of time," Carlisle said.
"Hopefully they'll be back with us soon," Esme replied.
"Hopefully," Carlisle repeated, looking out into the forest as more snow fluttered down to the ground below.
"I should give Y/N some more pain medication before we leave," Carlisle said, Esme nodded.
"Jacob is still with her. They make quite a pair, don't you think?" Esme questioned.
"I do... I just wish that they had more time together," Carlisle said.
Esme smiled sadly, "You did everything that you could for her, Carlisle. She can't be saved," Esme said.
Carlisle nodded, "I should've done more for her. More travel or more research. If I pushed hard enough, maybe I could have stopped this," He admitted.
"She hasn't been happy for quite some time, Carlisle. Y/N has come to accept what's happening to her and you should too. You can't blame yourself for this," Esme said gently.
"You're right," He nodded.
Carlisle's eyes flickered over her face, "I don't know what I'd do without you," He said, resting his hand on her back and pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.
Edward made his way around the corner, lingering a few steps away. Carlisle looked over at him, "We should get going," Edward said.
"Alright... I just need to check on Y/N one last time before we leave," Carlisle said, Edward nodded.
Carlisle picked up his medical bag from the table before making his way down to Y/N's bedroom. Carlisle knew that he would always regret not taking action sooner, but all he could do now was make her comfortable.
Carlisle opened the door to her bedroom, stepping inside to see Y/N asleep on Jacob's chest as they laid together in her bed. Jacob looked over at him before gently brushing his palm over her bicep.
"Hey, Y/N... Carlisle has more medication for you," Jacob said, she hummed softly before lifting a hand to rub at her eyes.
Carlisle set his bag on the table, pulling out his supplies as Y/N began to stir slowly. Carlisle filled a syringe with medication before approaching the bed. He tore open an alcohol wipe, cleaning the skin on the back of Y/N's bicep before injecting her with the medication.
"We're leaving for the battlefield," Carlisle said, looking up at Jacob.
"Who's staying behind for Y/N?" Jacob asked.
"She'll be fine on her own for a few hours," Carlisle assured.
"I don't know about this... She's sick," Jacob said.
"I'll be fine. Go," Y/N mumbled.
Jacob sighed, "Don't do anything stupid while we're gone, okay?" Jacob questioned, Y/N nodded.
Jacob brushed her hair out of her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, "Be safe," Y/N murmured.
"I'll try my best," Jacob assured.
He got out of the bed carefully, pulling the blankets up over her shoulder with a sigh. Jacob straightened up, reluctantly making his way over to the door.
Carlisle followed him out into the hallway and down to the living room. Bella knelt down in front of Renesmee, buttoning up her coat for her.
"How's Y/N?" Bella asked.
"She'll be alright. She's pretty tired with all the pain medication so hopefully she'll just sleep the whole time," Jacob said.
"At least she's comfortable," Bella said, standing up from the floor.
"That's true," Jacob nodded, picking up a few bags from the floor, "Shall we?" He questioned.
Edward nodded, "We found a good spot to set up camp in for the night," He said.
"Lead the way," Jacob said.
The Cullen family, Jacob, and nearly thirty Vampire witnesses set off into the woods. They walked for a few hours before they entered the clearing that Edward had found earlier in the day.
A tent was set up for Renesmee to sleep in and a fire had been started by Benjamin. The group told stories and chatted with one another for a few hours until Jacob decided to get a few hours of sleep. He let himself into the tent and laid down, watching Bella stroke Renesmee's hair as she slept soundly.
He hoped that everyone would survive the battle against the Volturi, but there was no way for him to really know. It felt like it was going to be their last night on Earth. Hopes within the group were either incredibly high or abysmally low as they waited for morning.
Jacob was trying to be optimistic, not for himself but for Y/N. Jacob had fallen in love with her and he made her a promise that he'd return safely. It was not a promise that he ever intended on breaking.
...
The sky was just beginning to brighten as the morning sun rose over the horizon. The Cullen house was silent as the Vampires, Werewolves and the small Hybrid girl made contact with the Volturi a few miles away.
Y/N began to wheeze in her sleep, chest stuttering as she struggled to fill her lungs with air. Y/N woke up in a panic, suddenly aware of the sharp pain on the right side of her chest.
Y/N threw off the blankets and climbed out of her bed quickly, her knees buckled and sent her body tumbling to the floor. Her muscles were weak and she could feel her kneecaps fracture as they collided with the wood.
Y/N got back up despite her body aching in protest, stumbling over to the door as she gasped for air.
"Carlisle," She wheezed, opening the door and moving out into the hallway. Her shoulder slammed into the wall, the bone crumbling at the contact.
Y/N pressed her hand against her chest as she shuffled down the hallway, lips turning blue as she gasped for air. Y/N moved over to the top of the stairs before taking a final desperate inhale. Her eyes rolled back into her head as her knees buckled, sending her body tumbling down the stairs.
Y/N's head collided with the edge of the metal railing before her body stilled at the bottom of the staircase. Her lips were blue as blood began to flow from the wound on her head.
Y/N's panicked eyes stared up at the ceiling as she silently prayed for someone to find her. She couldn't move and she couldn't speak, paralyzed and powerless as her body failed her. Her bones were shattered, the pool of blood expanding across the floor as she let out soft gasps for air.
Y/N was terrified, dying alone had become her worst fear and like some form of poetic justice, it was the death she would get. She would never get to see Jacob again and he would never forgive himself when they found her here.
Y/N blinked up at the ceiling as tears gathered in her eyes, watching the morning sunlight inch across the white walls. Her body trembled, adrenaline beginning to wear off as the pain made itself evident.
Y/N hadn't thought about what she hoped to get from her last moments. She wished that someone could be with her, holding her hand and telling her it was going to be alright even if they didn't know.
She wanted to see the sunrise one last time.
She wanted to feel the breeze on her skin.
She wanted to talk to Jacob.
She wanted to hear the sound of his heartbeat one last time.
Y/N wanted to tell him that she loved him.
But now she'd never have the chance.
For the first time in her life, Y/N prayed. She had never had a real understanding of religion, but in her final moments, it finally made sense. Y/N had a lot of regrets over her lifetime, she knew that she had never been a very good person.
Y/N allowed the hardships that she endured to turn her cold and make her vengeful. She should have been kinder or tried to make amends, but she hadn't. Y/N prayed for forgiveness, desperately hoping for another chance even though she knew it wasn't possible.
Y/N heard the door open, unable to turn her head as multiple sets of footsteps moved across the floor. She was saved. They had come back. She was going to be alright.
"Oh, my dear, what a sad end for you," A familiar voice said.
Y/N couldn't move, waiting silently until the figure approached her. Aro stared down at her with a grin, hands folded in front of himself as he watched her struggle to stay alive. He knelt down beside her, taking her hand and looking through her memories.
"Such a poor girl. Fallen so far from grace," Aro said.
"We are wasting time, Aro. The Cullens could return at any moment," Caius spat.
Aro released Y/N's hand, allowing it to fall onto the floor limply before standing up, "The girl comes with us," He said.
Marcus tilted his head, staring at the blood as it spread across the floor, "The girl is as good as dead, Aro," He rasped.
"As good as dead?" Aro repeated, "Death seems so final, doesn't it? Yet, for us, finality is often... Negotiable," Aro mused.
"Is there something you're not telling us, Aro?" Caius questioned.
"Patience, my friends, all will be revealed in time," Aro said, slowly making his way out of the room.
Marcus stepped over to Y/N, kneeling down and sliding his hands underneath her broken body. He carefully lifted her body into his arms before following Aro and Caius out of the Cullen home.
All that remained was the pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs.
...
The Cullen family returned home, the witnesses dispersed and the Wolves returned to their land. The group slowed to a stop as they approached the driveway, the smell of blood hanging heavily in the air.
"Is that blood?" Bella asked softly.
"Y/N," Jacob mumbled, running up the stairs and bursting into the house.
"Oh my god," He mumbled, immediately locating the large pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs.
Jacob stepped over it, searching the entire ground floor of the house while calling out for Y/N. He returned as Edward completed his search of the upstairs.
"Where is she? Where could she have gone?" Jacob questioned.
"I don't know. She clearly left her room in a hurry, so maybe she fell," Edward said.
Carlisle stared down at the pool of blood on the floor, "It's possible that the Volturi never cared about Renesmee," He said.
"What? What do you mean?" Jacob questioned.
"You told them that Y/N was sick," Alice mumbled.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think that they took her?" Jacob asked, looking over at Carlisle.
"I had a bad feeling about this and I couldn't put my finger on why. I think they wanted us away from the house so they could get to her," Carlisle said.
"Why would they want her?" Rosalie asked, Carlisle hesitated.
"You think they're going to experiment on her?" Emmett asked.
"I don't know. But I'm sure they want to conduct their own research into whether or not it's contagious," Carlisle said.
"You think that they want to weaponize it?" Jasper questioned.
"I don't know. I just- I don't know why else they would take her," Carlisle said.
"We have to go find her," Jacob said firmly.
"Let's do it," Emmett said, clenching his fists.
"There may not be anything we can do, the amount of blood alone-," Carlisle started.
"No, no, she is not dead. She can't be dead," Jacob snapped.
"We can't go up against the Volturi. If Alice's vision came true today, a lot of lives would have been lost. One life may not be worth the risk, especially if she's already injured, " Edward said.
"Are you serious? I thought you cared about her. All that talk about making things right with her was just a lie?" Jacob questioned angrily.
"It's an impossible situation," Carlisle stated.
"She's hurt and none of you even care. Y/N deserves better than this and you all know it," Jacob spat.
"We care. She's family," Rosalie snapped.
"You certainly aren't acting like it," Jacob said.
"Jacob's right... We have to do something," Bella said, looking over at her husband.
"I'll reach out to them and try to figure out why she was taken," Carlisle replied reluctantly.
Jacob scoffed, "They're not going to tell you anything and you know it," He stated.
"I can't push the envelope with the Volturi, Jacob. I will do my due diligence, but you need to understand that she was very sick and has likely passed away," Carlisle explained gently.
"And what if she's not? What if they're hurting her? She's probably alone and scared," Jacob said.
"And if she's already dead, we'd be risking our lives for nothing," Edward said.
"You people are ridiculous," Jacob muttered, shoulder bumping roughly into Edward's as he exited the house.
"He's right," Bella said.
"No, he isn't. Not this time... She's gone," Edward stated.
197 notes · View notes
ackermanrage · 2 days ago
Note
i would LOVE to request a levi x fem reader where zeke miserably fails at trying to flirt with reader in front of levi and reader just gives him the levi treatment aka kicking the shit out of him lmao. zeke’s just like nvm u guys are perfect for each other
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ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ʙᴇᴀᴛ
levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: hehe i feel like this is perfect, something levi would TOTALLY do. I tried fitting my ideas into a short drabble! Alsooo, I think i forgot to mention this in my intro, but i'll add it. Im not a huge fan of age gaps so if im writing about a older character, you can expect yourself to aged up. And if im writing about a younger character, for example: eren, then you can expect to aged down, to around 16-19.
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The courtyard was quiet. The sun hovered overhead, warm and lazy. You leaned back on the bench, one leg crossed over the other, half-listening to Hange ramble about some titan muscle theory.
And then he showed up.
Zeke Jaeger.
All smug grin and soft-rolled sleeves, like he thought he was walking into a wine tasting instead of a military base.
“Captain,” he greeted smoothly, hands in his pockets as he stopped in front of you. “You know, I’ve been thinking. With all the tension around here, maybe we could do something… fun. Together. You and me.”
You blinked at him. Deadpan.
“I’m busy.”
“You weren’t busy five seconds ago,” he smiled.
“I was. Mentally.”
Levi, nearby, didn’t say a word. But his jaw twitched. And his eyes locked on Zeke with a stare sharp enough to flay flesh from bone.
Zeke, oblivious or just stupid, leaned in a bit. “C’mon. Even you can’t resist a man with brains and biceps.”
You gave him a look. Calm. Unbothered.
“You sure you’ve got either?”
Hange cackled behind you. Zeke’s grin faltered, but he shrugged and backed off.
Levi didn’t say a word the rest of the day. Didn’t comment. Didn’t snarl.
That was what made it worse.
---
Later that night, Zeke was walking down the dim corridor near the supply hall, whistling some off-key tune—still full of himself, still acting like he hadn’t nearly embarrassed himself in broad daylight.
He turned the corner—and slammed into something solid.
Someone.
Levi.
Hands in his pockets. Head tilted just enough to cast a shadow over his eyes.
Zeke’s smile faded.
“...Oh. Hey.”
Levi didn’t respond.
Just stared.
Zeke shifted awkwardly. “Listen, if this is about earlier—”
Levi moved. Fast. Silent.
A sharp punch to the gut drove the air from Zeke’s lungs. A second blow landed just beneath his ribs—surgical, precise, not enough to break bone, but enough to hurt.
Zeke staggered back against the wall, coughing.
“What the hell, Levi?!”
Levi stepped forward, eyes calm. Voice flat. Deadly.
“Don’t look at her like that again.”
“I was joking—”
“I wasn’t.”
Another hit—this time, a knee to the thigh that made Zeke drop like a sack of grain.
He didn’t even try to fight back. There was no room to.
Levi crouched in front of him, voice low.
“She didn’t need to handle you. Because I will.”
Zeke wheezed, hand on his ribs. “You’re insane.”
Levi stood. “No. I’m territorial.”
And with that, he turned and walked off—completely silent, as if he hadn’t just issued a one-man beatdown in the dark.
Zeke lay on the floor, groaning.
“...God, she would date him.”
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©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!
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binmeister · 1 day ago
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Office worker AU
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Saja Boys x Office worker! Reader
Taking over the world via, checks notes, corporate slavery.
Summary - Modern, human AU - no demons, just office romance with sprinkles of pre-established dynamics & relationships - OOC / entirely self indulgent - Fem! Reader
A/N: I don’t actually know what to classify this as, eventually may post scenarios from this AU on top of this but hey. Self indulgence for me to enjoy. This is mostly for me to read but eventually I’ll share my headcanons and notes maybe but otherwise it's entirely just something I want to work on outside of the other current ficlets I have.
CW: not perfectly proofread, fem! reader, OOC obviously - may eventually contain suggestive / NSFW content intended for (18+) readers
Wordcount: 8.8k
Note: Baby (Byeol), Mystery (Minseok) and Romance (Roman / Ro) have been given AU head-canoned names in this and Abs has just been set as Abby but if you prefer to read them as non head-canoned names please feel free to do so!
Feel free to comment, reblog or even create your own AU based off of this - just don't claim my work as your own please.
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The mundane routine of an office job hadn't sounded appealing to you back in high school, but as you go through the tediously simple steps each day now you had to admit that there were some perks amidst all the major cons. Firstly there was routine, even amidst abrupt tight deadlines. Secondly was the promise of a paycheque, consistent income in the form of an annual salary had been the biggest reason you’d stayed loyal the last few years to Saja LLC. Though to be fair the other reason you may have enjoyed working there was because of the short commute time, realistically a half hour subway ride was way better than a 2 to 3 hour commute one way.
The only gripe you had now was that it still required you to wake up at 6:00am to get ready for the day, giving yourself a half hour to process the weight of being awake and the reality of being a corporate pawn before you drag yourself out of bed at 6:30 to get ready and prepped for the day. At 7:15 you’re fully dressed and refreshed from your morning routine, white blouse tucked neatly into a stretchy pencil skirt and some plain dark stockings layered underneath that. You manage to grab a quick snack as breakfast as you slip on your short pumps and pick up your handbag, slinging it over your left shoulder and grabbing your apartment keys. At 7:25 you’ve made it down to the subway in time to catch the 7:30 train and get onto the women’s passenger car, then at 7:45 you’re packed up tight with a multitude of other commuting women - ranging from students to business women to mothers on their way to attend appointments.
By the time you reached your stop and be free of the stuffy car you felt relieved that you had managed to get off the packed subway in one piece, hating how sweaty and sticky it felt being trapped amongst the other women on the train ride but at least there were no creeps that had tried to worm their way onto the women only car. You lifted your arm to glance at your wrist watch, a sigh of relief when you confirmed you’d been right on time and didn’t need to rush yourself as you paced up the stairs to exit the subway - heels clicking against the concrete stairs and echoing slightly amidst all the bustling business folk going about their day as well. By the time you’d reached the top of the stairs your calves ached a little, and you couldn’t help internally curse at yourself for not packing your spare shoes so walking could be a bit more comfortable.
“[Name]!” A familiar male voice calls out and you stop for a moment, head turning around as you tried to locate where the call originated from and then soon enough you feels his hands before you can see his face. Jinu, in all his magnificent glory like he wasn’t an 9-6 office worker not including commute time. You seriously couldn’t believe that he’s still a morning person after all the years of knowing him, thinking back about how you thought your time together in university would’ve changed him but nope. Still an early bird even when he had little to no sleep. He’d over-explain and say something about ‘waking up early just lets him think better’, yeah sure buddy.
“Morning.” Came your greeting as your eyes caught sight of his face finally, he shifted to walk on your right and you began to match your strides with him - or rather he matched his longer strides with your smaller heel cladded ones. He was dressed in a plain light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tucked and pressed neatly into black suit pants and had a laptop bag slung over his shoulder with the strap crossing over his torso. It was comforting as he blabbered on about what he did last night, how when he called up Minseok to come hang out the guy had the audacity to agree only to stand him up which you proceed to poke fun at him over it. ‘Maybe if you were prettier, he’d actually show up’ was what you said and Jinu had looked back towards you as if you called him an ugly unlovable animal. 
“I’m just saying.. you’d look great with some dangly earrings, you’ve still got the piercing holes anyway.” Was what you pointed out to him, your right hand had reached out to brush against his visible pierced ear lobe only to be met with a swift swat of his hand - an attempt to hide his reddening ear tips as well but you simply laughed at him more because of it. From the subway station was about a 10 minute walk to the office, any longer and you’d be questioning god on why you decided not packing a pair of flats was a good idea and not at all detrimental to your poor feet.
“I think I’d look better in big hoops than those flimsy dangly ones.” Jinu had retorted, straightening himself up and doing an exaggerated flip of his hand as he tossed his invisible flowing locks over his shoulder like he was some kind of actress in a show. You rolled your eyes at him and had taken a few steps side ways to get some distance from him, pretending to be embarrassed to be seen with him, which only made him complain as he reached out to grab you by your right arm and tug you back closer whilst he sang out a complaint of, “Wow, you’re so unsupportive of me. Not very girls girl of you I thought you were better than that.” 
It continued on like that for the remainder of the walk, his hand hadn’t let go of your arm and when the pair of you had made it to the revolving doors of your shared office he finally realised and let you go. Honestly you hadn’t realised he’d still been touching you until the warmth of his hand disappeared but mentally shrugged it off as you stepped forward to the doors first since he gave a mocking bow and a grand gesture with his hands ‘You first, m’lady’. Once the two of you had stepped into the main lobby you’d both began to rummage in your respective bags for your work passes, needing them to get through the gates that blocked off the building elevators as you continued to match your steps together.
“Did you remember your pass today?” He asked as he gave you a knowing look, given your history of repeatedly forgetting to bring it to work the next day and you simply pouted up at him for a moment before victoriously showing him a simple black lanyard - a plastic covered work ID attached securely. Jinu opened his mouth slightly, feigning surprise and gave a small little applause before he moved to scan his ID at the gates first then stepped through and to the side to wait for you to come on through. As you did you instinctively threw your pass back in your bag as he simply stuffed his into his right pant pocket, the lanyard hanging loosely out of it.
When you’d stepped through he fell back into step alongside you as you made your way over to stand in front of the elevator doors, Jinu taking a brief step forward to press the button for the lift to descend before shifting back and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Your guys’ conversation had lulled now and you both seemed content with just waiting in silence for a little while, it was still early in the morning so not too many people were spotted in the lobby yet. A soft ding resounded and he removed his right hand from his pant pocket for you to step in first, stepping in right after you and stuffing that hand back into his pocket after he clicked the 11th button to get to your shared destination.
The two of you stood side by side, a small gap between you both as the doors closed and the lift began it’s ascent to the next floor. The doors slid open and a few people stepped in, causing the pair of you to step toward the back of the space to be polite as the new tenants clicked buttons for levels lower than the floor either of you needed to get to. The doors slid closed again, followed by another smooth ascent to the third floor now and the same song and dance happened where more bodies entered and once again you’d both been forced to shift further into the lift and toward the back corner - your smaller body slotting between his and the railing connected to the wall but still enough space for now to be comfortable. Then it happened again at the next floor where even more bodies piled on in and Jinu had bumped into you, his hands no longer in his pockets as he tried to limit the space he was taking so he wouldn’t crush you. As if you  were in some twisted comedy it happened again on the next floor and Jinu had turned his body when he realised he was about to be forcibly shoved into you and he raised an arm up and braced his forearm against the metal wall as he let out a grunt trying his best not to squish you against the elevator wall but to no avail as someone bumped against him and now you were pressed against each other.
He felt heat rising to his face and didn’t want to look down at your face so he had looked up at the ceiling, praying to anything holy that his body didn’t have an unfortunate reaction to the proximity, ‘think about wrinkly naked old guys’  he told himself mentally. You were admittedly a little stun locked in this moment as your hands had reflexively gone up to brace for the expected impact of Jinu slamming into you but it never came so now your hands were stuck pressed against his chest and the rest of your body was flush against his as the elevator shifted and groaned slightly at the weight of so many people inside. The lift was definitely overly crowded, probably getting close to full capacity as you waited for the next ding for the potential relief of people exiting but you couldn’t see the panel to see what floors people were getting off on and some of the people inside the lift were busy chatting over something that happened on the weekend. You didn’t crane your neck to look up at Jinu, opting to keep your head down now that you realised there was no chance of you being able to see anything through the dense mass of bodies that had trapped the two of you in the back corner of the metal cell.
Jinu made the mistake of looking down finally, his neck hurting from craning to look up and he let his head fall to look down at you and he had to actively think to keep his breathing steady as he processed what was happening. Your hands were flat on his chest and you’d absentmindedly started to drum your fingers against the fabric of his shirt, your head was tilted down and he was glad for that because if you looked up at him now he was sure he’d do something stupid. He let out a grunt when he felt someone behind him elbow him in the back and he would’ve turned around to check who it was but even that was a little difficult to do given the amount of room available. It occurred to him that he wasn’t too opposed to this proximity lasting longer but soon enough at the next floor a herd of people had walked out, finally allowing him the space to take a step back as he mumbled an apology to you.
By the 8th floor there were only maybe two other people in the lift besides you then by the 9th it had gone back to just being the two of you. You couldn’t help the laugh that started to echo out of you as your shoulders shook, trying your best to suppress it but failing miserably as you couldn’t help but think back to the last 8 or so minutes of your life. As you finally spoke again, letting out a small “Rom-com drama much.” comment as you looked at Jinu. His expression made you want to laugh harder as he visibly looked like he was processing what you just said and then a smile breaks out on his face and he lets out a chuckle.
“Hah.. yeah you’re right.” He finally agreed as he hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his suit pants, looking forward for a moment before tilting his head slightly to side eye you and letting a sly comment slip out, “For the record, I’m totally the pretty female lead that everyone’s fighting over.”
You feigned hurt as you dramatically placed a hand over your heart, offended at what he could be insinuating about your dynamic. “Are you saying that I’m just male love interest #4? The unlucky co-worker that’s never going to win?” Then he hummed a small maybe and looked away from you, then the both of you let out another laugh as you both looked over to the panel that counted the floor levels - watching it flash 10 ^ for a brief second before it flashed to 11 and the elevator came to a halt. Before he could gesture for you to go first, it was your turn to give a dramatic gesture and urge him to go out the door first.
“You first my sweet lady.” You’d teased, attempting to lower your voice as you did so and it was his turn to roll his eyes at you now as he stepped off, pitching up his voice as he replied to you - attempting a very poor attempt at a feminine voice. “Ohh.. you’re such a gentleman oh my gosh.”
When you’d straightened yourself up and stepped out of the lift after him the expression on his face was sly, eye lids lowered a little as he stared down at you and then you both did your best to stop your shaking shoulders as the laughs leaked out of you. You’d parted ways after that, Jinu needing to check in with his supervisor so you gave a small wave as he saluted to you and walked in the opposite direction you were heading. As you walked to the right of the reasonably spacious area you saw a familiar mop of lavender hair over the series of cubicle walls and your pace quickened a little as you walked over towards it.
Minseok was settling down at his desk, just arrived a few minutes before you and Jinu had and was minding his business as he dropped his bag by his feet and pulled out a few essentials. Water bottle, phone, notebook, as he placed the items on his desk he shifted again to lean back down and check if he needed to grab anything else and he noticed your shoes. But his non-functioning brain was trying to process why he had apparently brought women’s heels to work and then it hits him that you’re standing there.
“Good morning.” You chirped happily at him and he straightened himself up, murmuring a greeting in return as you moved out of his vision briefly before appearing again on his left side. You’d plopped your handbag on your desk and took out the lanyard you’d thrown back in there earlier back out, hooking it around your neck and grabbing your own water bottle out as well as your phone before carefully sliding your bag to the back left corner of your desk.
You finally sat down before turning in your chair to look at him now, his appearance the same as always - a little unkempt but you’d be terrified if he walked in one day pristine and tidy. His hair was still the same familiar awkwardly long length that just barely kept his eyes covered but short enough that people couldn’t complain that he didn’t look well maintained, he was wearing a regular long sleeved light grey dress shirt, dark grey suit pants and just some regular leather dress shoes - the top button of his shirt was undone and he was currently in the process of unbuttoning the cuffs on his sleeves so he could roll them up a little.
“Jinu was complaining that you stood him up.” You said as you watched him go through the familiar motion of messily pushing the sleeves up until you reached a hand out to shoo his own away from it, wheeling yourself closer so you could neatly fold the cuffs up to his desired length before carefully tucking the sleeve securely so it wouldn’t sag back down his forearm. “You’ll wrinkle it if you just shove it up like that..” You’d huffed as you motioned for him to give you his other arm so you could repeat the same neat folds.
“In my defence, he messaged me at like 11pm on a work night.” He hummed before saying a soft thank you when you’d finished folding up his other sleeve, he’d turned his chair slightly so it was easier for you and when you were finished he fully turned in your direction now. “I’m not being his late night booty call.”
Your expression said it all, eyebrow quirked as you couldn’t help the sly smile that slipped onto your face as you gave him a look that just screamed ‘you’re kidding’ before you spoke again. “We both know that man has never gotten any ass in his life. C’mon we’ve known him since high school.“ He hummed in agreement and relaxed back into the back rest of his chair as he let you continue on.
“We’ve talked about it before mystery man, you’ve gotten laid more than Jinu’s fumbled a date. Which is an impressive number at that.” You teased the ‘mystery man’ in front of you as he shrugged you off, trying to hide his embarrassment at you bringing up his past actions and going on the defence as he retorted that ‘university was a different life time’ and you backed off after that. Both of you repositioning yourselves at your desk to get started with work for the day, occasionally making small talk before you both had quietened down to focus on whatever document either of you had to read through.
Maybe an hour or two had passed when you heard the familiar ‘ehem’ of your supervisor which caused you and Minseok to look up and away from your monitors, both turning in your chairs a little towards the right where she stood with a younger looking man with teal hair. He was dressed in a plain white dress shirt and light grey dress pants, a backpack slung on one shoulder and his resting expression seemed a little bored. She’d given you a quick run down on the new face and mentioned that the young man had recently been hired and that she expected both yourself and Minseok to train him as well as that the new hire would be seated at the spare desk beside you, she was about to introduce your new co-worker when her phone blared and she apologetically bowed at you all before having to rush off to handle whatever matters had come up.
“Uhm.. My name’s Byeol, I was hired on as a junior assistant, uh, please take care of me.” He awkwardly introduced himself, voice surprisingly low in contrast to his appearance as he bowed at you and Minseok with stiff arms by his side. Clearly uncomfortable at just being thrown into the deep end with no warning, his eyes shifted from you then to Minseok and then to the floor as he looked like he’d rather be absolutely anywhere except for here. Minseok tilted his head to catch your eye and you nodded at him like ‘you go first’ to which he did, as the both of you stood from your chairs now to bow a little to show respect.
“I’m Minseok, I’m a financial analyst so we may not be working together too frequently.” He spoke, voice still low and soft before he gestured for you to introduce yourself next. “I’m [Name], it seems like you’ll probably working with me more - I’m a finance officer.” 
After your introduction you awkwardly gestured to the desk beside you on your left, clean and tidy like no one has ever worked there which is partly true from what you knew and Byeol nodded at that as he stepped over and got himself situated in the space. He seemed a little nervous yet radiated a cool unbothered aura that made you feel like you didn’t really need to keep an eye on him too much which was a relief to you, you were not paid to be someone’s emotional support at this office. He piped up suddenly as he settled in on the slightly creaky office chair and pulled out a notebook from his bag.
“Is this floor always so empty?” He’d asked you, or rather the pair of you as he let his eyes make a quick sweep around the area. You froze for a moment as you tried to process his question and then regurgitate what information you had available. 
“Ah, yeah it is. It’s just our little group in finance and the legal guys on this floor.” When you mentioned the legal team, you pointed at the few cubicles behind you, the walls were facing the three of you so you never really had to worry on if anyone would be seated behind you. “There’s a couple more members in finance but Mimi’s on maternity leave and Jiyoung is taking an extended vacation at the moment.”
Byeol had made a soft ‘mm’ of acknowledgement at the information you gave him, seeming to relax a little knowing that there wouldn’t be too many annoyances in the work space then which was a huge relief for him. He didn’t say much else as he booted up the computer and input the login information your supervisor seemingly gave him before she had to leave, he turned his head slightly to talk to you directly now and listed off the information she had told him. Mentioning that today was just getting familiar with the systems, the workflow and for you or Minseok to assist him in getting the necessary privileges to get access to certain documents and databases. The usual corporate on-boarding. 
“Gooooood morning.” A voice boomed out suddenly which made you jump and Byeol stared blankly at you, Minseok cursed under his breath as a familiar mess of violet hair appeared above the aforementioned legal department cubicles. A muscular figure arrived, a man a good inch or two taller than Jinu had appeared after he threw his bag onto his desk - coming up to stand over Minseok’s cubicle and leant on the wall of it much to the latter’s dismay.
“Oh hey, an extra body.” He commented as he noticed the presence of a third body in the usually empty desk beside you. He squinted for a second and then his eyes lit up as he rushed over and trapped Byeol in an overly familiar headlock. “Aye! It’s my baby boy.”
“Abby hyung- let me go.” Byeol had managed to grunt out as he desperately tried to flee Abby’s grasp and failed miserably. Begrudgingly accepting his fate as you and Minseok shared a confused look and you had instinctively rolled your chair away from what was going on in front of you. Sorry new guy, you were way too weak to help in this situation.
Abby finally released him and stood up, his button up shirt was well fitted today and surprisingly wasn’t bursting at the seams despite his figure. He rested his hands on his hips as he started to badger the younger man about how he’s been, why hasn’t ‘Baby’ come along for a drinking night, when will the next game night be and you can see the way Byeol is contemplating submitting his resignation already. But you had a feeling he won’t because the pay is just way too good at Saja LLC to leave.
“Why’s Abby hazing the new guy?” You heard Jinu’s voice from behind you and both yourself and Minseok had turned your heads around at that, Jinu had his hands in his pockets and his lanyard around his neck now as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. It wasn’t an unfamiliar scene that Abby would be chatting with people in the office in general, a bit of an out-going guy that just liked to get to know people but he usually wasn’t touchy feely with people at work since he never wanted to cross that line.
“Apparently that’s his baby boy.” Minseok commented, he had leaned back in his chair and lazily crossed his legs as he rested his right arm on his desk but Jinu simply said a small ‘uh huh..’ with extreme uncertainty and disbelief. A few minutes had gone by at this rate with the three of you staring at Abby babbling on at Byeol, the younger man looked drained and no longer the same awkward guy you’d seen earlier as he answers selectively to whatever he was questioned with. Then it’s like someone finally turned the light on in Abby’s head and he looks up and over to you guys like you’d just appeared out of thin air and he lets out a sharp ‘aha!’.
“My bad! Sorry, it’s lil baby man back from uni - do you guys remember? That freshman buddy program I signed up for as a credit thing.” That was it, that was his explanation and that made everything click into place for the three of you. Memories of when Abby had shown up to gush about his ‘baby’ when the four of you would hang out at Jinu and Minseok’s shared dorm, he had never actually shown pictures of the freshman’s face but you feel like you would’ve recognised the teal hair now that you really try to focus on your recounting of the events.
“Ohhh. Oh my god you were the unlucky kid that got stuck with Abby, I remember you now!” You clapped your hands, straightening up in your seat while you celebrated your little victory over your failing memory. It came together in a much clearer picture now when Abby had shown up to the guys’ dorm with a disgruntled looking student, way too tired to function and he looked like all he wanted to do was leave as he was literally forced to hang out with the lot of you who were a few years older than him and definitely had no idea how to talk to him. Byeol’s brows furrowed as he tried to remember who you were, because he swears he would’ve remembered your face if he did know you then it hits him and he briskly stands up and excuses himself to go to the restroom. He remembers distinctly now. 
The four of you were left dumbfounded at his sudden departure but Jinu and Minseok are both quick to jump on Abby’s case about it, saying that it was his fault and he probably scared the kid off now. Abby had looked at you with pleading eyes like you would save him from the other two giving him shit but you avoid eye contact as you recall how frequently the taller man used to force all of you introverts into going out to party and ‘explore your horizons’ despite everyone’s objections and complaints. Then he throws you under the bus.
“Hey, he was taking my affection - he ran off when lil missy over here talked to him.” Then suddenly all of the attention is on you and you’re complaining that the guys always bully you just because you’re a girl, but they rebuttal with how they don’t do this to any of the other women on your floor but then you’re staring at them with big eyes and they shut up for a moment. After talking in circles you had shut yourself up, grumbling a little as you tuned them out and shifted back to your desk to get some work done since it was going no where. 
It had quietened down shortly after as Jinu and Abby headed back to their respective desks, deciding finally to get to work now that they were done messing with you and Minseok had buried his head back in some new financial audit that had been sent his way. Byeol had eventually returned and was a little thrown off by the peaceful environment, the only sound really being the clacking of keys or the clicking of mice, maybe the low voices of Jinu and Abby as they discussed something in regards to work. He’d quietly sat back down in his chair, trying to hide the mild shame of what he’d done as he opened up excel and the company’s intranet to see what steps he could take to get his access sorted for the day. A minute went by and he sees you move out of the corner of his eye, you clear your throat to get his attention so he turns his head ever so slightly to your direction to let you know that he’s listening even as his eyes are scanning the information on the screen in front of him.
“Hey, did chief tell you what level of access you needed at all? Or is there a note or anything that she left?” You’d asked, voice a little soft and low and it made a tingle ripple through his body and he shifts in his chair to reorient himself. He nodded dumbly as he opened the thin manila folder HR had handed off to him earlier in the morning, looking down at them before grabbing out a couple of papers and handing them over to you which you accepted graciously. “Just some low level stuff for now, but apparently they really want me to have a look at the previous year’s finances to understand what’s going on or something.”
You’d nodded at his answer and looked at the couple of sheets he’d given you, mentally taking note of which folders and files he needed access to and turning to your own computer to start raising the ticket requests so the IT team could handle it from there. You hummed as you submitted the last request then turned back to Byeol, offering him the papers he’d given you and he’d grabbed them without turning to look while he continued to click through the currently accessible files and software that he had been approved for.
“You’ll probably be able to access stuff after lunch, if not tomorrow.” You alerted him and he gave a small nod at that. Your eyes lingered on him a little longer as you realised that he’s definitely shaped up a bit since the time you saw him at university, still relatively baby faced but there’s this mature cool vibe from him now instead of the irritable teen you remember. 
“Lunch?” Abby called out and Minseok groaned, both of you well aware that the guy definitely just stood up at his desk with golden retriever levels of excitement which means now you definitely have to go get lunch otherwise he’ll complain for whoever knows how long about how he just wants to spend time with you guys and don’t you guys feel lucky that you all ended up in the same company after university. The usual spiel he always pulled on you guys when you were giving him shit when you’d gone for company drinks and ended up staying out later just hanging out as a group. 
“You too my sweet baby boy.” Came his voice again and it was Byeol’s turn to groan, muttering complaints under his breath that you managed to catch. “Thought I’d never have to see that fucker again after he graduated but nooo.. course he’s at my first big boy job.”
Byeol shuts up when he hears you snort and then he’s smirking a little to himself. You lock your computer, using your mouse to do so and you hear Minseok doing the same thing and then you hear Byeol just clack a few keys on his keyboard and his computer is locked too so the three of you lean back in your chairs and just wait for the legal boys to get themselves sorted. It didn’t take long as you hear Jinu’s iconic chair creak as he stretched and stood up, the tell tale sign that he’s getting up from his desk which let you and Minseok know to get up as well. You stretched your arms up, as you got to your feet before patting down your skirt to make sure it hadn’t ridden up your thighs too much before grabbing your company phone.
“Are you gonna join us, Byeol?” Minseok was the one to ask as you got yourself sorted, pushing your chair under your desk  as you waited for either of the men in your vicinity to move as well. Byeol nodded, getting up himself and tucking his chair under his desk as well - grabbing his phone of the table top in the process and slipping it into his pocket. You’d walked over to the wall blocking off the two legal department desks and peered your head over to check if they had actually gotten up or not to go get lunch, you’d tippy toed a little but it wasn’t worth it as the two men were standing and looking at you like you were a kid trying to peek at them.
“Hi.” You offered up weakly as you lowered your heels back to the ground, Jinu looked like he was ready to poke fun at you when Abby speaks first. “Ro’s already there, he sent me a message complaining that he’s lonely without us.” Ping!
“And he has tea to spill.” He commented as he pulled out his personal phone to check what Mr. Gossip had to say. Like a shepherd with his sheep, the extrovert of your group ushered his herd of introverts away and into the elevator to get down to the office cafeteria. It arrives quickly, allowing the five of you to get on and hit the 3rd button and settle in as it smoothly dropped with no stops on the way down for once. Jinu and you had briefly made eye contact and had to stifle your laughs as if your connected braincell shared the same memory of this morning.
When you arrive at your desired floor - Abby leads the way and slings an arm around Byeol despite his protests, leaving you, Minseok and Jinu to follow after them as you idly chattered about what today’s food options might be. Minseok and Jinu spoke a little quieter to each other as they tried to recount any memories they had of Byeol and then Minseok admits that he had completely forgotten his name because Abby only ever referred to him as baby, baby boy, baby man, lil baby, any iteration that involved the word baby.
“I remember that. Guy had to deal with the three of us awkwardly calling him baby man or lil guy because Abby managed to cut him off every damn time he tried to tell us his name.” Jinu replied, recollections of memories from that period of time in university finally unlocking for him as well and you hummed in agreement before chiming in as well. “I think I avoided calling out to him because it was awkward to say ‘hey lil dude’ or ‘hey baby’.”
You hadn’t noticed the way your two companions freeze as you casually call out ‘hey baby’, both needing to either swallow down whatever they were about to say or clear their throat by coughing into a closed fist. Soon enough the familiar cafeteria doors are in front of you and you fall into line with the other staff members still trailing through and getting their trays filled up with food. You end up behind Minseok who handed you two trays, keeping one for youself you pass one to Jinu behind you and Abby had taken Byeol ahead of you guys already so you guys grabbed bits and pieces of food before heading over to your usual table tucked away at the far back. You’d all agreed it was for the better of everyone else if you were hidden away because lord did your last friend like to gossip about what goes on in the marketing department.
Minseok had waited for you where as Jinu had headed off to your groups’ table first so he could avoid any unwanted attention ladies from the other departments would pester him with, a fun little thing you teased him about pretty frequently. By the time you’d arrived at your corner table tucked away in the back you saw Byeol look like he was ready to murder the next unsuspecting bystander as a familiar head of pink and Abby were poking fun at him. Jinu was sat across from them, two seats available beside him and was munching on some rice as he watched his free entertainment. Minseok sits on the chair by the window which leaves you to take the middle seat between him and Jinu, placing your tray neatly and picking up your chop sticks as you tried to piece together what the three men were doing. Byeol was stuck in between them across from you, ‘Ro’ on the window seat across from Minseok, Abby across from Jinu and the two were coo-ing at Byeol like he was.. a baby.
“Oh little baby man.” Abby sang out as he prodded at Byeol’s cheeks, Ro mimicking the same thing on the opposing side until he was swatted away by flailing limbs and Byeol looked like he was trying so hard not to explode. Your eyes locked for a moment and he silently pleaded that you or either of the guys on either side of you would save him.
“So.. how’s your first day been lil baby?” Minseok was the one to ask it, your head whipped to him and Byeol had a look of utter betrayal on his face like seriously? His own department now against him. Jinu choked on his rice from the sudden laugh that he let out and your jaw had gone slack at the fact that Minseok joined in on the bullying.
“If I wasn’t on probation I’d kill every single one of you, except for her.” Byeol said threateningly, voice almost dangerously low and that made all of the men at the table freeze. Jinu had managed to clear his throat of the lodged rice and then pointed at himself with his chopsticks with an over the top ‘wait me as well?’ only to be met with a deadpan stare. “I remember you from uni.”
Jinu was about to open his mouth and argue but then he thought it over a little more, nodding in agreement with what was said and digging back into his lunch without another word. You let out a nervous chuckle finally as you looked at Ro. “...uh.. so what tea do you have Roman?”
The tension left him immediately as his eyes lit up, finally you could take in his appearance properly now as he started to lay out the details of whatever marketing team scandalous office drama was going on this time. He wore a warm yellow cardigan, a pastel blue dress shirt peaking out from underneath it but for some reason it worked relatively well together.  The top few buttons of his shirt were undone revealing a simple necklace and his hands had a few rings decorating his fingers, of course his hair was styled in that familiar heart shaped mullet that you’ve grown accustomed to as well.
“You guys remember Jia right, the one that kept hitting on Jinu?” The four of you that were familiar with the people in the office shook your head no at this information, because that did nothing to narrow down the list of people. “She tried to hit on Abby next.” Another shake of your heads. “Tried to hit on our mystery boy over here.” Nope still no bells ringing.
“She poured coffee on [Name] then called her a stupid slut?” Ah. That one yes. The three men who had been shaking their heads no at the information prior scrunched their faces in disgust suddenly, remembering that incident clearly and Byeol had looked at you in surprise at that information. Roman caught his gaze and patted the younger man on the shoulder, reassuring him that you’ll all catch him up on that office drama another day.
“Anyway that one yeah,” He started up again and started to talk with his hands as you began to pick away at your food bit by bit, being careful not to take too big of a bite in case you started choking on it because of whatever next he was due to reveal. “Turns out she got caught sexting one of the team leads in the business department on her company phone.”
Okay relatively juicy information, but pretty standard- “The one who’s wife beat cancer.” Oh god.
“Also,” Jinu, Minseok and you all shared a look with each other like ‘there’s more?’ and Abby had just raised a flared brow at all this information. He didn’t expect much from Jia after she called you a derogatory insult unprompted so he was curious what else she could’ve been trying to do. “Allegedly, repeat with me allegedly,” You rolled your eyes at him before listening to what he said next. “She may have been trying to get it on with that same team lead’s son and his nephew as well. All adults for clarification.”
“HUH?” You let out finally because damn Jia was getting busy apparently when she wasn’t trying to get it on with your friends. Jinu had stopped mid chew as he processed the information, Minseok had put the spoon he was using to drink up his soup back on his tray, Byeol looked mildly disgusted because why was he hearing about this shit on his first day of the job and Abby just looked a little bored now.
“Wow. Didn’t know she was going for a family completionist run.” He’d joked as he picked up his paper cup filled with water and took a small sip from it. It seemed like he was the only one that wasn’t too thrown off by the news but then again out of all of you at the table aside from Roman, he had a relatively good read on people and had known she was bad news since the first time he conversed with her at an office drinking party. 
“How did you guys even get this information?” You asked, your hand had instinctively gone to pick up a cup of water before you realised you hadn’t actually grabbed one. Abby noticed and simply handed you his to sip from and you mouthed a ‘thanks’ to him as you took a careful sip from the small paper cup before handing it back to him. Roman looked at you, smile on his face as he did a little rainbow gesture with his hands and whispered. “Marketing..!” As if that answered your question but you let him off with it, starting to dig back into your food since all the other guys had started to do the same.
“Well they both are on probation until HR figures out how to get rid of them without fucking up our public image.” Roman finished off finally with his tale, his tray had been emptied long before you sat down since he’d seemingly come down first and he sighed dramatically. “Can’t wait to be called at midnight about needing to sort out an emergency PR stunt to cover it up.”
You gave him a pitying look as the other guys gave their own insight on things, mostly analytical from all of them rather than derogatory since they were just curious how it even got this bad. You’d gotten more details here and there, surprised by how much stuff had happened just from this situation alone and then Byeol had asked if he was due to get a company phone at some point to which Abby responded he should be soon. The five of you had all picked up your company phones to show him what he could expect and he looked annoyed that he’ll soon have to start carrying two phones around, but at least he wouldn’t be getting contacted on his personal device for it.
“It’s okay baby, you can expect me to be contacting you twice as much once you get it.” Abby coo-ed at the smaller man before leaning away from him to narrowly avoid a fist that had gone flying in his direction and laughing it off. By the time you’d finished half of your tray of food, everyone had been long done and you felt bad you were holding them up but Minseok hushed you and told you to eat up otherwise you’ll never grow big and strong like them. You gave him the stank eye before continuing to pick at your food, Jinu had nudged you with his elbow to remind you that you shouldn’t have gotten the veggie mix if you weren’t going to eat it and you couldn’t help the small pout you sent his way. “..don’t be mean to me, I thought I was hungry.”
The rest of the guys were quick to start bagging on Jinu after that, even Byeol throwing in a few jabs as well as he seemed to loosen up steadily through out your lunch session as a group. The ravenette had raised his hands up in a mock surrender, defending himself as a simple caring friend that was concerned for his dear friend about whether or not said friend was eating well and making good choices. The topic switched after that and you finished up most of what you could, a few different things still left on your tray and wordlessly Jinu picks it up and slides it between his and Abby’s trays for the two of them to finish up your leftovers for you because they already know you’ll feel bad for leaving waste behind. At some point Minseok had gone and refilled his and Abby’s water cups so he had handed you his one so you could wash down your meal properly and Byeol’s just watching all of these interactions with Roman like a free domestic romance flick.
“It never gets boring.” Roman commented and Byeol nodded in agreement, he could get used to this dynamic again. It’s matured since the last time he witnessed it in university and honestly it’s a little fascinating to now be a part of it, not necessarily just an outsider looking in anymore. Soon enough you’d all gotten up from the table, before you could try to pick up your tray to help clean away things Abby has already stacked it on top of his and Jinu’s and gone ahead first to dispose of the food so you trailed behind Jinu as you walked towards the elevator first whilst the others busied themselves with cleaning up too.
Once again you’d lucked out on your timing, being undisturbed on your elevator lift and Roman was the first to get off at the 7th floor with a sad wave as he left you all to go back up to the 11th floor. You felt your phone vibrate in your hand and you checked to see what email you’d received, mostly approvals and the tickets you had raised for Byeol earlier had all been changed to ‘action’ states whilst a couple had been marked as ‘pending server’ which meant that he wouldn’t be getting much more done until tomorrow. You voiced that to him as he hovered beside you on your left, Abby was leant against the right wall of the lift in front of the panel, Minseok behind him and Jinu on your right and sandwiched a little between the other guys.
At least he gets an easy first day then? The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur, you’d walked Byeol through some of your company’s oddly specific reporting processes and services as Minseok gave a general breakdown on the software that you’d be dealing with frequently as well as explained how the payroll system is handled as he’d most likely be asked questions about that from people that didn’t understand that payroll and finance were not the same department - something that still happens frequently enough despite many company wide emails being sent out to discourage people from going to bother the finance department for this reason. At some point your supervisor as well as the legal departments’ supervisors had bid you all good bye for the day and had left already, which meant that you guys could mess around a little and just chatter about whatever you felt like.
Which leads to the instance here where Jinu and Abby had wheeled themselves from their desk over into the finance space, both now eager to talk about the earlier office drama with you three now that they’ve been told that it’ll become a legal, HR and marketing department problem to deal with. Abby was complaining about how annoying the legalities will be because defamation or unfair termination clauses could apply whilst Jinu pointed out that abuse of company properties was applicable to this case as well. Minseok occasionally threw out a comment as his back was turned to them, still skimming the audit from earlier in the day whilst Byeol had simply logged out for the day and was listening intently despite playing some game on his phone.
“Contract was pretty clear that misuse of company assets was prohibited.” He commented, fingers tapping rapidly at the horizontal screen as he was slouched in his chair, his legs were spread a little and he’d turned to face the group of you as well so his voice projected better than when he’d been facing away. Then Abby responded by pointing out, “But it’ll depend on the contract she signed when she joined.”
“I thought she was only our senior by a year?” You said as you finished up your last email for the day, closing and saving out documents and any final checks before locking your PC for the day. After you sure you were logged out safely you turned in your chair to better join the discussion as well now. The chatter kept going on like that until you’d all finally decided it’s time to leave for the day when Minseok threw the towel in as well on his work, all grabbing your bags and essentials. By the time you were on the main lobby and out the front door of the building you felt exhaustion work it’s way into your shoulders, a small groan escaping you as you rubbed at the shoulder that was holding your bag.
Shortly after you feel someone pull your bag and you instinctively grab it tighter only for the voice of Abby to be by your ear as he asks you to let him carry it, then you finally let him take it as you loiter around the front of your office. Small talk and banter was exchanged, then the guys started being guys and making dirty innuendoes at each other that made you question them on whether or not they’d hooked up with one another yet before Byeol decides he wants to head home and bids you all farewell as he heads off to catch the next bus to his place. The remaining four of you decide that today will be the night you all invade Minseok’s place, even if it was only a Tuesday and you guys had work the next day surely he could be kind enough in his heart to allow some tired office workers to take refuge in his nearby apartment? He was against it until he noticed that you’d started to shift your weight from foot to foot, occasionally leaning down slightly to rub at your sore ankles and he changes his mind and leads the way back to his place which was only a short 5 minute walk thankfully. Jinu and Abby cheers in victory, obnoxious wooping for a bit until you smacked them both upside the head for causing a scene.
A slightly mundane routine that brought comfort to you as you deal with all the losers that are your friends.
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riotgurlll · 3 days ago
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Your chance headcanons were SO GOOD. In love. Do you have any for Eddie & Volt? 🫶💕 Looking forward to more of your writing!
Eddie and Volt Headcannons!....NSFW (Date Everything)
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Now..... now let me tell you something... While I'm more of an Eddie girl, both of them are getting CCRAACKKEDDDDDUH. "TWO BAD BITCHES AT THE SAME DAMN TIME"-- The moment I heard Volt speak, and I was GRACED with Jonah Scotts voice not once, but TWICE????? Do I have any Eddie and Volt ones.... of COURSE I DO! HERE YOU GO CUTIE PIE!
TW: NSFW content, FREAKKKKAYYYYY because how can I resist?? Also probs spelling/grammar issues because proofreading is my N1 opp! (I'm lazy)
Contents/Mentions: non-monogamy, threesomes, Dom/Sub dynamics, M!Genitalia descriptions, Lwk anal if you squint but only kind of? Degradation, Gender neutral/Afab or Amab inclusive!
---
-These two go hand in hand. It's likely that if you like one, you like the other. And if it isn't a given, they don't exactly mind.
-When you first met Volt, he may have came off a bit strong: But it was flattering, nonetheless. You remember noting his kindness, even if he had a flirtatious nature. You noted how his eyes raked over your form before greeting you. He sure was something... In the best way possible. You found it so sweet that he offered you a VIP seat in the bar, just to watch the show that was put on that night- It was Rainey, doing a cover of old classic jazz songs. It filled the bar with a warm, alluring atmosphere. You sipped your drink- that Volt had insisted was on the house. Which, was slightly confusing, because you weren't even sure they needed any currency anyways.
-Regardless, you couldn't help but inform the gentleman about how grateful you were for the invitation to see the show- complimenting him on his establishment. You remember, he called you darling.. And you could have sworn, a bolt of subtle electricity went up your spine as you looked into his eyes, smiling whilst sipping your drink with a faint blush.
-Then, you met Eddie. Volt had noticed him walking out of the back with a towel on his shoulder, seemingly busy. Despite this, Volt didn't care at all, and insisted he joined the two of you. Eddie semi begrudgingly walked over, indulging in his friend as he introduced him to the human whose house they occupied. You had to admit, Eddie was just as handsome as Volt- even if it was in two completely different ways. Eddie, well- he was more... rugged, while Volt was more classy. You immediately thought the two of them contrasted nicely, and despite how grumpy Eddie seemed at the time- you could tell they were good friends.
-After going back to meet with them a few times, it became evident that they were double trouble. And Volts endless flirting was slowly added to by Eddie. Eddie was more subtle, just slightly. But you could tell, you could see it in the way he looked at it too. The both of them wanted you, and neither were ashamed of that fact.
-It started as soft kisses to your knuckles when they said goodnight, but it wasn't long before things got... heavy.
-Both of them dreamt of taking you after hours at the bar. In the back, behind the bar. Maybe it was Volt who thought of it first- But I think it was Eddie who actually dreamt of it. He probably woke up with a hard on, something that drove him wild. He was disappointed when he awoke, missing the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. Volt, being the nosey man he is- teased him for it, but made sure Eddie knew he wasn't alone.
-When they finally pursue you, you're met with delicate words and touches. Maybe Volt takes your hands in his, and Eddie places a gentle hand onto your shoulder. Maybe Volt pulls you closer, as Eddie steps behind you slowly.
-They handle you gently, at first. Making sure to go slow, making sure you felt the sensuality and genuinely of their feelings towards you. Electrifying kisses and caresses. They're figuring you out, trying to see what makes you tick- what you are and aren't okay with. Eddie is the one who does most of the checking, but Volt pays extra attention to the way you react to both of their movements.
-The two of them would adore to take you at the same time. It's up to you how you'd like it. Maybe Eddie lies you down gently on your back while your head hangs off the edge of your mattress- Volt coming into view with a sly smirk. Or perhaps You'd be willing to take them both in each hole, it's whatever you'd prefer.
-Expect to have one whispering into your ear as the other fucks into you, groping your body.
-Lwk think they'd be into things like vibrators- Toys in general, honestly. Volt would cherish the idea of zapping you gently, just for a little kick- if you let him, of course.
-I think that Eddie is thicker, while Volt is longer. They're both blessed in their own ways- able to give you whatever you want in the moment. I imagine Eddie being around 5.8' inches, but nice and thick. He's circumsized, tip darker than his base, tanned as well. Volt, I'd imagine is closer to 7. That's a lot to take, of course- but he isn't very thick circumference wise. He's cut too, tip more of a salmon color.
-I feel like Eddie is more of an ass man, while Volt is 100% into tits. For Eddie, I think he's a sucker for a nice ass. I just feel it- He'd stare down at your ass while fucking you from behind. And honestly, if you were to be interested in anal, he would volunteer first. Even then, it's not something he requires or anything- it's up to you.
As for Vault, he doesn't give a fuck if they're mosquito bites, ABCDEF and G cups, it doesn't matter at ALL. They loves playing with your chest, teasing your nipples and watching you shiver. He'd love to take one of your peaks into your mouth, playfully biting- Not hard, just enough to make you yelp ever so slightly.
-Now, hear me out... Eddie prefers eating pussy, and Volt prefers sucking straight up dick. NOT that they won't do either or, I just feel like Eddie not only seems like if a dick is getting sucked, he wants it to be his, but ALSO, I think he would get too flustered honestly- in an embarrassed way. He's probably not confident in he wee wee slurping skills... poor man.
Anyways, as for Volt, I think he loves puss just as much as the next guy, but he prides himself in his cock sucking abilities. If you did have a penis, it wouldn't be safe from that man. It's just a guilty pleasure for him.
-Would they fuck each other.....? I... I feel like they would. Like I could imagine Eddie fucking into Volt while Volt fucks into you, do we... do we see the vision here? Literal train.
Maybe one of them fucks the other while you sit on their face? That's always a possibility.
-Hear me out.... Eddie + Degradation=🤝. He'd call you a slut while he fucks into you from behind. Say that you're their whore, while Volt snickers to himself and probably joins him- but more in a teasing way.
-Biting. Hickeys. Crack these men together and you will be COVERED in marks, doing even pretend like that's not how things would go.
-Ass smacking, maybe other smacking if you're into pain. I think Volt wouldn't mind receiving it either, maybe that's just me. He seems like a FFFFFRRRREEAAAAKKKKKUH.
-spitroasting
-They both strike me as grunters and groaners, not very whimpery- but maybe Volt would if you overstimulated him....
-Ahem, OVERSTIMULATION! FOR EVERYONE! it's welcomed lovingly!
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thisapplepielife · 1 day ago
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Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.
What the Kids Are Calling It
Prompt #2 - Selling the Drama | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Meet Cute, Movie Set, Famous Corroded Coffin, Regular Guy Steve Harrington
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"Cut!"
Eddie slumps back into his director's chair. They're in over their heads here. This was a really bad idea, none of them know how to act. The label has lost their minds if they think this is gonna help their career. It's just gonna be an embarrassment. 
He needs a minute, so he slips away from the set, heading back to the craft service table. It's the only thing he likes about this situation.
Studying the choices, he zones out. Acting is stressful. More than he ever imagined it'd be.
"Looking for something in particular?" 
Eddie looks up. There's a guy standing next to him. He's never seen him before. 
"Uh, not really. Just. You know. Avoiding."
"Your job?" he asks. It makes Eddie laugh.
"Exactly," Eddie teases. 
"You're doing good," he says, and Eddie doesn't think that's true at all. But he's used to having smoke blown up his ass after being in the business this long. "Really selling the drama."
Eddie laughs, a sudden burst of sound that he knows surely made people look in his direction.
"This is supposed to be a comedy," Eddie says, and this guy blushes a pretty pink.
"Okay. I haven't seen any of it. I'm a fill-in. Robin, my best friend, she's sick today," he says, and Eddie looks at him, utterly charmed. "I'm Steve. Don't tell anyone I'm not in the union. I think the punishment is digging my own grave at Hollywood Forever."
Steve flips over his badge, which is conveniently backwards. Eddie recognizes Robin from her picture.
"My lips are sealed," Eddie says, "I'm Eddie."
"And you're an actor that doesn't want to act?" Steve asks, brow furrowing in confusion.
"I'm not an actor. I'm a musician. We're a band, and they're trying to make some sort of knockoff version of This is Spinal Tap. It's not going well. Don't sign contracts you don't fully understand," Eddie advises.
"Noted," Steve says with a grin. 
He's handsome. If Eddie has to be tortured, at least getting to talk to him for a few minutes is a nice consolation. 
"Eddie!" Gareth yells, and Eddie turns.
"That's my cue, I guess," Eddie says and Steve nods.
The next break he has, Steve is waving him over. Eddie goes. Of course he does.
Steve leads him back towards the makeshift kitchen, opening the freezer. Retrieving a truly monstrous ice cream sundae.
"Holy shit," Eddie says, taking it from Steve when it's offered to him.
"I worked in an ice cream shop as a teen. This was our crown jewel. The U.S.S. Butterscotch."
Eddie laughs, and honestly, he can't eat all this. For one, he won't have the time, "You better grab yourself a spoon too. I'm definitely gonna need your help."
When Jeff and Goodie find him, he's laughing at a little table, sharing ice cream with Steve. Flirting. He's definitely flirting.
Goodie clears his throat, and Eddie looks in his direction.
"Having fun?" Goodie asks, and Eddie nods. Of course he's having fun. 
"You know it," Eddie says, "this is the best part of filming so far."
Jeff rolls his eyes, but walks over and puts both of his hands on Eddie's shoulders, guiding him up out of his chair, "We've got work to do, if you're done playing old fashioned soda shop."
Eddie laughs, and jabs his spoon back into the ice cream, getting one last bite before he's pulled away, Steve smiling as he goes.
Craft service is still fully stocked, but Steve is nowhere to be seen. Eddie feels a clench in his gut. He should have gotten his number, should have asked him out, should have done something, anything.
Then he relaxes, just a bit. Robin. Robin will be back. He can get through to Steve that way.
He gets led to the makeup trailer, and they take off his wig, and start removing his makeup. When he steps down out of it, Steve is standing there, leaning against the wall. Legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded across his chest.
"Whoa," Steve says, and Eddie reaches up towards his lack of hair. He cut it short a few months ago, and he's still a little self-conscious about it, even if it's much easier to take care of now.
"Yeah, surprise, I guess. I forgot," Eddie says. Because he did. He doesn't think about the wig.
Steve takes a step forward, holding out a slip of paper in his hand, "My number. If you ever want to hang out."
"Hang out," Eddie repeats, teasing him, "is that what the kids are calling it?"
Steve laughs, and nudges Eddie with his elbow, "Stop."
"How 'bout now? Are you available to hang out right now? I know a good spot for tacos," Eddie offers.
"I think maybe I should feel bad if you're leaving set still thinking about more food."
Eddie grins at him, "I was just looking for a way to keep you around."
Steve reaches forward and grabs him by the shirt collar, tugging him closer, "We could hang out at my place."
Eddie swallows and nods. Definitely. He wants to hang out with Steve. He hasn't felt like this in a long time. Like he's not Eddie Munson, the celebrity. Instead, he's just Eddie. Some guy that happens to like playing music.
"You really didn't know who I was?" Eddie asks, and he's sure that makes him sound like an asshole.
Steve shakes his head, "I'm not really into metal. Is that a dealbreaker?"
"It's not," Eddie says, "but there are lots of kinds of metal. Surely we could find something you like. Even if it's not my music."
"You're more than welcome to try," Steve offers, and Eddie will. He definitely will.
And Eddie holds out his arm, suggesting Steve lead the way to his car. 
Steve backs out of his spot, and pulls out of the studio lot, waving at the guard as they pass the booth.
Eddie hopes they hang out all night.
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If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
Notes: I definitely thought of when all of Metallica cut their hair in the 90s. Maybe Eddie Munson followed suit, lol. Could Steve have just waltzed onto a set? I mean, if anyone's capable, it's Steve Harrington. Let him turn on his, *snap, snap* - charm.
Okay, they totally just recognized him as Robin's friend that tags along with her and ignored his dumb lie. I just know it. 🤣
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cowboylikemac · 3 days ago
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FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER || S.B
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pairing: sirius black x reader
summary: you are a ancient Runes professor who confronts your past when Sirius Black, your former love, reappears after escaping Azkaban.
warnings: none !
word count: 3k
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The air in Hogwarts carried a crisp edge, the kind that bit at your knuckles and made your breath catch in your chest. The castle’s ancient stones seemed to hum with secrets, as they always did, but tonight they felt heavier, like they were holding their breath. You adjusted the stack of parchment in your arms, your shoes clicking softly against the corridor floor as you made your way to your quarters after a late night grading Ancient Runes essays. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows, and for reasons you couldn’t quite place, your skin prickled.
You were no stranger to unease. You’d lived through loss, through war, through the kind of heartbreak that left you hollowed out and stubborn as hell. You’d rebuilt yourself, piece by piece, into someone who didn’t flinch at shadows. An Ancient Runes professor, a friend to the remaining Marauder, someone who didn’t need anyone’s pity or protection. But tonight, something felt… off.
Maybe it was the news. Sirius Black, escaped from Azkaban. The name alone had been enough to stop your heart when Remus told you, his voice low and careful, like he was handling something fragile. You’d laughed it off at first, a bitter, jagged sound, because what else could you do? Sirius, your Sirius, the man who’d once held your heart like it was something sacred, was a murderer. He’d betrayed James and Lily, your friends, your family. The world had told you so, and you’d believed it, because the alternative was too unbearable.
But Remus had been quieter than usual lately, his eyes carrying a weight you couldn’t quite decipher. You trusted him, though. Remus Lupin was the only Marauder left who hadn’t shattered you, and your friendship had grown stronger in the years since both of your world’s fell apart. He’d been the one to get you the teaching post at Hogwarts, to sit with you over cups of tea when the memories of laughter and late-night pranks felt like knives. He was your anchor, and you were his.
You rounded a corner, the Astronomy Tower looming in the distance, when you heard it—a soft scuffle, like boots on stone. Your wand was in your hand before you could think, your pulse quickening. “Lumos,” you whispered, the light spilling from your wand tip, illuminating the empty corridor. Nothing. Just the wind, maybe, or a house-elf scurrying about. You exhaled, shaking your head at your own paranoia. Sirius Black was not here. He was out there, somewhere, a ghost from a life you’d buried.
But then you saw him.
He was leaning against the wall, half-hidden in the shadows, his dark hair longer and wilder than you remembered, his face gaunt and haunted. His eyes, though—those grey eyes, sharp and stormy, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees buckle. Sirius Black. In the flesh. In Hogwarts. Your wand trembled in your grip, and you took a step back, your heart a riot of fear and fury and something else you refused to name.
“Don’t scream,” he said, his voice low, rougher than it used to be, but still achingly familiar. “It’s me.”
“Me?” you spat, your voice sharp enough to cut. “You don’t get to say that like it means something, Black. Get the hell away from me.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. “I know you hate me. I know what you think I did. But I didn’t—” His voice cracked, and he took a step forward, hands raised, empty. “I didn’t kill them.”
Your wand didn’t waver, but your resolve did. You wanted to hex him, to scream, to run, but those eyes—God, those eyes—held you in place. They were the same eyes that had once looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. You shook your head, forcing the memory away. “You’re a liar,” you said, but the words felt hollow, like you were trying to convince yourself.
“I’m not,” he said, softer now, almost pleading. “It was Peter. Wormtail. He’s the one who betrayed them. He’s the one who’s still out there.”
The name hit you like a Bludger. Peter Pettigrew. The quiet Marauder, the one who’d always seemed a little out of place among the larger-than-life personalities of James, Sirius, and Remus. Dead, they’d said. Killed by Sirius, along with a street full of Muggles. But the way Sirius said his name, the raw edge in his voice, made something in your chest twist.
“You expect me to believe that?” you said, your voice shaking. “After twelve years? After everything?”
“I don’t expect you to believe me,” he said, and there was something broken in his expression, something that made your heart ache despite itself. “But I need you to listen. Just for a minute.”
Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension. “Y/N?”
Remus. You turned, relief flooding you as he stepped into the corridor, his wand raised but his expression calm, like he’d been expecting this. His eyes flicked to Sirius, and for a moment, you thought you saw something pass between them—something unspoken, heavy with history.
“Remus,” you said, your voice steadier now. “What the hell is going on?”
He sighed, lowering his wand but keeping his gaze on Sirius. “He’s telling the truth, Y/N. I know it’s hard to believe, but Sirius didn’t betray James and Lily. Peter did.”
You stared at him, your mind reeling. Remus, your rock, the one person you trusted without question, was vouching for Sirius Black. The man who’d shattered your world. You lowered your wand, but only slightly. “Explain. Now.”
The staff room was quiet, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as Remus explained everything. Sirius sat across from you, his hands clasped tightly together, like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. Remus’s voice was steady, but his words were a storm—Peter’s betrayal, the Fidelius Charm, the switch, the rat Animagus, the years Sirius spent in Azkaban for crimes he didn’t commit. You listened, your heart pounding, your mind struggling to reconcile the truth with the lie you’d lived with for over a decade.
When Remus finished, the silence was deafening. You looked at Sirius, really looked at him, and saw the toll Azkaban had taken. His once-vibrant features were sharp and hollow, his shoulders hunched like he carried the weight of every lost year. But his eyes—those damned eyes—were still the same. Full of fire.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and it was the first time he’d spoken since Remus started talking. “For everything. For leaving you. For letting you believe I could ever—”
“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice sharp but trembling. “Just…” you said taking a deep breath “Stop.”
You stood, pacing the room, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. You wanted to scream, to cry, to hit something. You’d spent twelve years hating him, mourning him, trying to forget the way his laugh used to make your heart race. And now he was here, alive, innocent, and you didn’t know how to feel.
“Y/N,” Remus said gently, standing but keeping his distance. “I know this is a lot. But he’s not the enemy.”
You laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the quiet room. “Not the enemy? Remus, he was everything to me. And then he was gone. Do you know what that did to me?” Your voice broke, and you hated it, hated the way your emotions were spilling out, raw and unfiltered. You hated the fact that you were blaming him. You knew it wasn’t his fault that he was framed.
Sirius flinched, like your words were a physical blow. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I broke you. I broke us. But I never stopped—”
“Don’t,” you snapped, turning to face him. “Don’t you dare say it. Not right now.”
He stood, slow and careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal. “I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said. “I don’t deserve it. But I need you to know that I never stopped thinking about you. Not for a single day in that hellhole.”
Your throat tightened, and you looked away, blinking back tears. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let yourself fall back into the pull of him, but the scars were too deep. “I can’t do this,” you said, your voice barely audible. “Not yet.”
He nodded, his expression resigned but not defeated. “I’ll wait,” he said simply. “As long as it takes.”
The weeks that followed were a blur of tension and avoidance. Sirius was hiding in the Shrieking Shack, with Remus and Harry’s help, and you found yourself caught between wanting to see him and wanting to run as far as you could. You threw yourself into your work, deciphering runes with a ferocity that startled your students, but every quiet moment brought him back—his voice, his eyes, the way he used to pull you close and whisper promises against your skin.
Remus noticed, of course. He always did. One evening, as you sat together in his office, grading papers over a shared pot of tea, he spoke up.
“You’re avoiding him,” he said, not looking up from the essay he was marking.
You sighed, setting down your quill. “Can you blame me?”
“No,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But you’re avoiding yourself, too. You loved him, Y/N. And he loved you. That doesn’t just go away.”
“It went away for me,” you lied, your voice sharp. “He was gone, Remus. For twelve years, I thought he was a monster.”
“And now you know he’s not,” Remus said, finally meeting your eyes. “So what are you afraid of?”
You didn’t answer, because you didn’t know. Or maybe you did, and it was too terrifying to admit that letting Sirius back in meant risking the heartbreak all over again.
It was late November when you finally went to the Shrieking Shack. The wind howled outside, rattling the windows, and Sirius was alone, sitting on a dusty chair with a book he wasn’t reading. He looked up when you entered, his expression a mix of surprise and cautious hope.
“You came,” he said, standing slowly.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall, keeping the distance between you. “I just… needed to see you.”
He nodded, like he understood, and maybe he did. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice soft, almost reverent.
You didn’t know what to say, so you just stood there, the silence stretching between you like a tightrope. Finally, he spoke again.
“Do you remember the night we snuck into the Forbidden Forest?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You were so mad at me for dragging you out there, but then we found that clearing, and you started naming the stars.”
You swallowed, the memory hitting you like a wave. “You kept interrupting me to make up your own constellations,” you said, your voice quieter now. “The Great Dog, you called it.”
He laughed, a soft, broken sound. “Yeah. I was an idiot.”
“You were,” you agreed, but there was no venom in it. You took a step closer, then another, until you were standing in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “About the switch, about Peter. Why didn’t you trust me?”
His face fell, and he looked away, his hands clenching into fists. “I wanted to protect you,” he said. “If you’d known, you’d have been in danger. I couldn’t lose you, too.”
“You ended up losing me anyway,” you said, and the truth of it hung heavy between you.
He reached out, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he had the right. “I know,” he said. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make that right. If you’ll let me.”
You didn’t pull away when his fingers brushed your arm, and that small touch was enough to unravel something inside you. You wanted to hate him, to stay angry, but all you could feel was the ache of missing him, of wanting him back in a way that scared you.
“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I don’t know how to trust you again.”
“Then don’t,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “Not yet. Just… let me be here. Let me prove it.”
You nodded, because it was all you could manage, and when he pulled you into his arms, you didn’t resist. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was a start. And as you stood there, wrapped in the warmth of him, the ghosts of the past felt a little less heavy, like maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.
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