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livingdxadwriter · 4 months ago

Text

Serenity

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!doctor!reader

Summary: Robby has had a really shitty day, maybe he just needs his girlfriend to comfort him

Follows the pacing of the show so minor spoilers if you’re still not caught up

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, oral (fem receiving), he talks her through it (yes he does and yall can’t tell me otherwise), age gap (reader is 35 and Robby is 50) (ik he’s probably Noah’s age but just bare with me here), established relationship, just vanilla sex really

WC: 6.3k no I’m not sorry

A/N: bahahah nobody look at meeeee. I think I outdid myself with this, I’m never beating the daddy issues allegations. This man just makes me so feral I couldn’t help myself. I’m hoping some of yall have been down bad too otherwise just ignore me (if this flops I’ll cry). Also tagging my bestie bc she has experienced my madness in real time🩷 @wittyjasontodd

You knew today would be an absolutely abhorrent day. You could feel it, the second that dumb clock hit six a.m, you knew. You knew it when you texted him if he wanted to eat dinner at your place after your shift, and he told you that he didn’t know when exactly he would get off his. He was working today and that made you sick to your stomach, a deep sense of anxiety and worry settling in. And you couldn’t shake that feeling all fucking day.

You didn’t want to worry about him, coddle him and suffocate him like he was a teenager, he surpassed you by quite a few years for you to be doing that. Still, you couldn’t not worry about him down there. His day was normally absolutely draining as it was, but having to deal with that today out of all days, it concerned you just how well he could compartmentalize his own issues and the issues of dozens and dozens of other people.

You were tempted to come downstairs yourself and check in on him under the excuse of bringing him coffee and something to eat. But then that would be weird. Then people would know. Well, you had a suspicion people did know by now, it was a bit hard to hide a relationship after two years. Though it was a bit easier considering you were all the way up in the pediatrics ICU and not in the Pitt. Still, you definitely noticed the knowing glances of Perla and Princess whenever you came down for a consultation or if they saw you sneak into the doctor’s lounge.

Dana knew, though you never told her. You didn’t think Robby told her either. You thought it took her maybe a month to figure it out. You prided yourself on how discrete you were about it, and still are. You walk together whenever your shifts align, hands locked and headphones in as you both enjoyed the short time you had in each other's calming presence before you didn’t see each other for twelve-plus hours. And then you went your separate ways, a quick kiss and a hushed ‘love you’ before going through completely different entrances to be extra cautious. You have been doing this since day-one. How Dana figured it out was beyond your extensive knowledge.

You both would like to think other than Dana’s superhuman ability to read people, you had managed to keep things private. It was better that way, doctors were such odd creatures, you almost positively knew that ‘favoritism’ would end up circulating around sooner or later, since, once upon a time where you were a bright-eyed and still a had will to live first-year resident, Robby was your attending. Albeit he was married at the time and you were engaged, you knew someone would find a way to turn it into something it wasn’t.

Today, however, you weren’t quite such how reserved you could be when you knew he was struggling.

You sat on your desk, a long exhale of exhaustion leaving your lips as you ran your hands over your face, enjoying the few minutes of peace and quiet you had managed to find. And then you heard a ping. You sat up, eyes shooting open as you reached for your phone with annoyance. You thought it was the hospital, but when you unlocked your phone you saw it was a message from Dana.

Well, fuck.

Dana: can you check on Robby? The overdose kid is hitting him pretty hard

A long sigh left your lips as you read over the message, heaviness settling in your chest. You had been keeping up with it since earlier this morning, you had hoped maybe the kid would respond to treatment. You guessed things hadn’t been so easy down there.

Me: you don’t think the kid is gonna make it?

Dana: Robby doesn’t think so. Come check on him please. He was gone for a while earlier

Another heavy sigh left your lips. Today was not the day for this.

Me: he doesn’t like it when I make him talk about his feelings

You weren’t entirely exaggerating. Robby wasn’t emotionally unavailable, the opposite, if anything, he was painfully aware of his feelings. He just didn’t like talking about them, especially when they were ER related. He would send you into a psych ward if he told you everything he experienced on a daily basis, he told you. And you respected it, your year in the Pitt definitely wasn’t the highlight of your life, and you admired him for choosing to stay there for so long.

Dana: you’re not. You’re just being a supportive girlfriend. Come, now.

You didn’t have to be in front of her to know she was being serious. You figured if you didn’t come down at some point she would physically come get you herself if that’s what it took. So best not to test the universe today. You had some time before your next appointment anyway. And Dana was right, you wanted him to know you were there, even if he didn’t always want it.

It came as a shock to no one that you ultimately found your way downstairs. It was always loud on your floor, but nowhere near as bad as the pitt. You tried your best to not draw attention to yourself, though with everything going on down here and all the people that came and went, you figured you would blend in for the most part. You hoped to find Dana at her desk, preferably alone, as to avoid awkward small talk and questionable looks since nobody actually called you down here for any medical reasons. You internally thanked the universe when you spotted Dana on her computer.

“Hey.” You spoke quietly, hands shoved into your pockets a bit sheepishly as you glanced around before looking back at her. She gave you a warm smile of gratitude and nodded at you.

“Don’t make that face, it’s not that bad down here.” She teased, calling out your hypervigilant mannerisms and the uncomfortable look on your face. You didn’t mind being here, but only when you had a reason to be, you definitely didn’t want to have to explain you came down here to check in on your boyfriend.

“I know.. But you know..” you gave her a look. But you didn’t have to say anything, she knew what you meant, she just liked teasing you about it.

“South 16 is empty. I’ll tell him I need him for something. Just be quick, we might need the room.” She told you in a hush, resuming her typing away at her computer. You quietly nodded, briefly reaching to lightly squeeze her shoulder as a silent thank you.

You waited a bit anxiously, shooting a glance at your watch. Shit, you had to be back upstairs in ten minutes to check up on a patient. But you didn't want to leave without at least making sure he was okay. Even if he was just going to brush you off and tell you that everything was fine, you at least wanted to see him. You waited another minute, and with a sigh you turned to pull the curtains out, but someone beat you to it. You jumped back a bit, eyes wide for a second before you realized.

He wasn't quite looking at you, or maybe he just wasn't paying that much attention, he thought he was in the wrong room at first.

“Sorry—oh.” Robby glanced behind him for a second, bit confused as he closed the curtain behind him. You smiled lightly as he looked at you both with confusion and relief to see you. Now matter how hectic or chaotic his day had been, how many times he had to chase down his residents, or many patients were a pain in his ass, seeing you always brought him a sense of calmness. He was ashamed to admit he was completely infatuated with you. His racing mind ultimately landed back on you, and he realized; he didn't remember calling you down. Maybe one of the residents did? But they didn't check with him first. “Hey, what uh.. What are you doing down here?”

“Just wanted to check in, I heard you’ve had a rough day.” You said quietly, lightly nibbling on your bottom lip as you stepped closer to him. He looked down at you, a heavy sigh leaving his lips and his jaw clicked lightly as he reminded himself to curse Dana out later. He didn’t want you to worry. He said nothing, so you continued, “The college kid, you don’t think he's gonna make it?”

He tried to hold back another sigh, but he couldn't help it, he squeezed his eyes shut and scratched the back of his head with exasperation. He considered not going into details, giving you the same bullshit answer he gave the parents. He never wanted to burden you with his issues, with the baggage that came with the ER. He always wanted to keep out of the relationship, though he found that to be quite the challenge. When he opened his eyes again and found your pretty eyes looking back at him, with that warmth and kindness that made him want you in the first place. Maybe he should open up, to you at least.

“Uh, no. He’s braindead so there’s nothing we can do.” The words left him like a ton of bricks, heavy and sharp. Your face immediately fell and your lips parted open lightly. You tilted your head at him, but said nothing. He wasn’t quite looking at you as he continued, “I keep ordering all these tests for the parents, but I know. And I don’t know if giving them false hope will make things worse for them.”

You nodded softly and rested your hands on his chest, you felt him exhale unevenly. You gave him a warm smile as you lightly rubbed his chest.

“Maybe they just need more time to make peace with it. Maybe they just need to know you did everything you could to help their son.” You knew how he felt, there had been so many times where nothing you did was enough to help someone’s child, and you had to tell them that. But you knew he did his best, he always did. Though you weren't sure if he knew that.

“Yeah.. yeah, maybe.” You felt him slightly tense under your touch and he avoided your eyes. He slightly angled his head to look behind him, like he was getting ready to sneak his way away from you and get lost in the chaos of the ER. you would let him, in a minute.

“Michael.” Your voice was a warning, quiet, stern. He snapped his head in your direction and looked at you with concern and confusion. You almost mever called him that. Only sometimes, when you were annoyed with him. With that scolding tone of yours. He didn't like it much.

“I don't like that. Why’d you do that?” He tilted his head at you, and you had to hold back a smile at the way he looked at you.

“‘Cause, you’re being difficult. There’s bad days and there’s worse days. Today is a shitty day, and that’s fine. You're doing your best, don’t be so harsh on yourself.” You sighed, running your fingers through his beard and he almost instantly leaned into your touch.

“How come you didn't go into psychiatry?” He commented and you snorted, leaning your forehead into his chest. You felt a slight chuckle rumble in his chest, and with that your deed was done for now.

“Well, I did a minor in psychology in undergrad, did I ever tell you that?” You leaned back, a small smile on your lips, and he had the little wrinkles around his eyes that you found to be so cute.

“Once or twice.”

You shrugged playfully, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turned his head and caught your lips instead. You were definitely okay with that. A groan of annoyance rumbled in your chest when you felt your phone buzz, alerting you that it was time for your next appointment. You pulled back, much to your dismay and took a glance at your phone, you were definitely going to be late.

“I mean it Robby, I’ll know.” You shot him a playful warning look and he nodded, a tiny grin pulling at the corner of his lips. You leaned up, actually leaving a kiss to his cheek this time. “Love you.”

“Love you too hun.” He called after you as you disappeared behind the curtain. A long sigh left his lips as he ran a hand over his face. If he wasn't the attending he would go after you and would purposely get locked inside an exam room with you for a little while. But alas. He waited a minute, making sure it didn’t look too suspicious before he came out too, back to the madness he went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was just the gift that kept on giving. You eventually came down for the walk of honor. You knew you wouldn’t really talk to Robby, but you wanted him to know you were there. You truly hated to see him like this. Hours on end only for the answer to have been what he knew from the beginning. It was hard to look at the brightside. And then you heard Dana got assaulted and you were absolutely freaking out. You hadn’t been able to come down until the end of your shift, when you were on your way to head home. Robby still had another hour left of his so you were just going to your apartment alone, he almost never got off on time, anyway.

You damn near ran off the elevator and a sense of relief washed over you when you saw Dana sitting at her desk. A long sigh left your lips as you approached her and you nearly gasped when you saw the bruising on her face.

“Dana.” You said quietly, your eyes big. She shook her head at you dismissively, but it was hard not to worry. “They told me a patient hit you?”

“Yeah. Don't worry, I don't have any fractures, just a little sore.” She half smiled at you, but the look on your face never changed, you frowned even deeper.

“It's unbelievable. With all the patient satisfaction bullshit Gloria shoves down our throats you’d think they would invest a little more in making sure the staff is protected. Are you sure you’re okay? It bruised a lot.” You leaned down to inspect her closer and she rolled her eyes at you, but you couldn’t help it.

“Yes I’m sure, Robby made me get a CT and made me take a break, I’m fine.” She waved you off and you nodded.

“Oh, speaking of that pain in my ass, where is he? I’ve been texting him since the walk but I haven’t heard from him.” You frowned softly, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. Dana gave you a look, one that you definitely did not like.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t wait on him too much. Just go home, okay? While you still can.” Now that worried you even more. You knew today had been rough but you didn’t think it had been that bad. It took a lot for Robby to lose it, though you were unsure what exactly happened if that was the case.

“Yeah, okay. I’m glad you’re okay. I was very worried.” You offered her a tiny smile, which she returned and you exchanged goodbyes for the night.

Dana’s words lingered in your mind, and you were definitely more concerned for Robby than you were earlier today. Usually he would text you back, even if it was an hour or two later, but it had been hours and nothing. With a sigh, you started to head for the exit, and as you walked you saw Robby walking out of one of the exam rooms. You debated whether to pretend you didn't see him and to just go home. But that really wasn't the type of person you were.

“Robby, hey.” You called out to him as quietly as you could as you walked up to him. He visibly tensed at the sight of you and he looked like a fucking mess. You narrowed your eyes, your lips pursing at him but you continued. “I uh.. I’m going home. I don’t know if.. If you wanted to come over when, well whenever you get out. I’m picking up food on the way so..”

He was silent for a while, too long for your liking and you were starting to feel a little tense as well. He clicked his tongue, scratching the back of his head like you had picked up he did when he was stressed. You probably should have listened to Dana.

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know. I don’t really know what time I’m getting off, and truly I think maybe I should go to my place tonight.” He said with exasperation, his tone harsh and laced with tension. It almost took you aback how he was talking to you.

You blinked at him, mouth slightly agape. It took you a couple seconds to process what he was saying. You counted to five in your head, took a deep breath in and just nodded. “Uhm, okay. Yeah, cool, I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I went home.”

“Yes, yes I’m okay, why does everyone keep fucking asking me that.” He raised his voice before quickly realizing what he did and his lips fell in a flat line. You stared at him in shock, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. It was almost like it dawned on him that you were the last person in this hospital he should be snapping at. And he did just that. He reached to grab your arm and you backed up.

“No, it’s fine. I got it. Sorry. I’m gonna go home now.” You forced a smile, you could tell Robby wanted to say something, he opened his mouth but you just shook your head at him. “It’s fine, you need space and I get that. Text me when you can talk to me like a fucking adult, yeah?”

You didn’t even give him a chance to reply, you were turning around and hurrying to the exit before he could get a word in. Was that the most mature response you could have given him? No, not really, but you didn't particularly enjoy being yelled at by your boyfriend in the middle of the ER. You knew something else must’ve happened to him, but you didn’t really want to find out when he was that upset. You hadn't seen Robby angry often, stressed? Sure, all the time. But he looked pissed and you didn’t like that whatsoever. He was always so calm, so patient and so collected, it was unsettling to see him so easily ticked off. You tried not to think about it too much, he knew where to find you if he wanted to talk, calmly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby couldn’t stop thinking about you for the rest of the night. He felt horrible for yelling at you, when his problems were not your fault and all you wanted to do was be the loving girlfriend that you were. He always loved how attentive and caring you were, when you asked him about his day and when you would listen so attentively to the little he would tell you. You were the last person on this earth he should’ve snapped at today, and now he had to go home feeling guilty when all he wanted was your comfort. He debated about just going to his place and calling you tomorrow, maybe he would get you some flowers to apologize. But then thought that would be too long. It was so late, he definitely didn’t get off when he was supposed to, but maybe you’d still be awake. You usually waited up for him anyway.

Without much thought, he ended up at your apartment. He had a key to your place, he slept there most nights to be completely honest. He was rehearsing in his head the apology he would give you when the door got stuck.

“What the fuck..” he muttered to himself as he tried to force the door open, thinking maybe it got caught on the rug or something. But no, he looked down to find that the latch was on. You put the latch on. He took a deep breath and clicked his tongue, trying to look into the apartment to see if he could see inside. This was definitely going to be his last straw.

You weren’t asleep, it wasn’t quite midnight yet, but even if it was, you weren’t sure if you could get much sleep tonight. You heard the sound of your front door unlocking along with muffled shuffling. You sat up, confused. You suspiciously came out of your bedroom, only to find Robby’s awkwardly tall frame trying to reach inside to undo the latch. You almost wanted to laugh, you would have, if you hadn’t still been a bit upset from earlier.

“Really?” You called out to him, arms crossed over your chest as you padded along the wooden floors, the floorboards creaking under your bare feet. Robby looked to find you, in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of cozy pants. He always found it endearing how cozy and comfortable you looked outside of the hospital.

“You put the latch on? Really?” He huffed quietly, annoyed that he got stuck outside your apartment, he definitely was not amused by you trying not to laugh. You shrugged.

“You said you weren’t coming over. I put the latch on when you’re not here.” You said like it was obvious, taking your sweet time in walking to the door. It served him right. He would’ve rolled his eyes if he didn’t know you were right.

You stood for a few seconds and made direct eye contact with him as you shut the door in his face, just to make a point, before you unlatched the door and opened it. You took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest again as he quietly stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him. He dropped his backpack like it had offended him, and he crowded your space. His nose brushed over yours, and you could hear his breath. You were holding yours.

“I’m sorry.” He offered so quietly, so much so that you wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn't been so close. You inhaled sharply, slightly nodding. You threw your arms over his shoulders and he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yeah? You forgive me?”

You nodded again, as you leaned up to meet his lips. “Yes, now shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, his large hand squeezed your waist as he leaned down to meet your eager mouth. He definitely said nothing after that. God, he had been wanting to do this all fucking day. It probably would have made his day a whole lot less shitty. But he was here now, and he had you all to himself.

You weren't sure when you ended up being carried to your bedroom, or when your back was laid flat on your soft covers. All you could focus on was his lips claiming yours, his lips trailing kisses all over your jaw, down to your neck, and anywhere he could find, really. He wasn't normally this messy, perhaps the stresses of today had finally worn on him.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he muttered against your skin as he half-assed shrugged his hoodie off his shoulders and tossed it somewhere he would be scrambling for in the morning. You hummed along, only half listening. “Let me make it up to you.”

Confused, you sat up on your elbows as he settled between your thighs. You watched him with big eyes and a heavy chest as he silently pulled your pj’s down your thighs. You held your breath as you instinctively closed your legs. He shot you a pointed look as he pried your thighs open, fingers digging into your plush thighs as he settled between them. You gasped softly at the delicious burn his beard left on your thighs. You loved that you could always feel the tingle of where his mouth had been, even the day after.

He took his time with you, he always did. You never understood how he could stay so calm, so patient. You had no patience, and you knew that he knew. Maybe he enjoyed seeing you desperate. His tongue lapped at your pussy with such calculated movements. From your hole to your clit, circling and sucking before diving back into your walls. Squirming, you were chasing his mouth with your hips, body overcome with pleasure as he worked your walls with his tongue. You felt like such a whore for asking like this, but you couldn’t help it.

“That feels so—ugh—feels so good—please.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Sweet release? You didn’t know. Robby raised an amused eyebrow at you, wet lips curled up the slightest bit as he moved his tongue back to your clit and he slipped two fingers inside your cunt. He licked and sucked to match each delicious drag of his fingers. The sounds leaving him were just as filthy as the things he was doing to you, groaning and grunting.

It was no surprise that he had you shaking and sobbing, overcome with pleasure, eyes blurry with tears of pleasure, your release rapidly approaching. You latched on to his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as your pathetic sounds filled the room. You chased his mouth, and he let you, always so amused by how quickly you would fall apart.

“That’s it, just breathe through it.” he hushed, his own breath heavy as he replaced his tongue with his thumb and he crooked his fingers just the right way, knowing each and every one of your tells, each twitch of your body, he had memorized all of it.

Your release was hard and sudden, your loud sounds were almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his fingers scissoring you wide open. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. He dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.

“Shit Robby.” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. You ran your fingers along his face, threading through his beard and you silently ushered him up. He complied, in an instant settling between your open legs to find your mouth again. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, it was all so much for your clouded mind.

“You’re okay, just breathe for me.” He said against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face softly. You breathed out a laugh.

“You should yell at me more often,” you snorted, and Robby shot you a pointed look. “So you can make it up to me.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not done, so.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, leaving the lingering taste of yourself on your tongue before he flipped you over on your stomach. You bit your lip softly, pulling your t-shirt over your head and tossed it somewhere. You heard him shuffling behind you for a bit. You turned your head to look back at him, and with a smile he leaned over your back, leaving a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hmm hi.” you hummed softly as you braced yourself with your arms in front of you. He pressed his lips to the back of your head, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank into you.

You gasped, your eyes rolling back into your head he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. The side of your face was flat on the mattress when he sneaked his hand into your hair and held you there. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up.

“Thought about this all day baby. With the fucking day I’ve had.” His words left him with a groan, and he gave you a particularly sharp thrust that had you sliding up the mattress. “Just wanted this. You're the only thing that isn’t wrong in my life.”

His raspy words in your ear made you moan, and you blindly reached behind you to touch him, any part of him. He leaned down, his chest flat against your back and his lips found yours, pulling you into a messy kiss.

“Mhm, should’ve called me down for a quickie then.” You teased him and he chuckled, his cheek pressed against your jaw, the new angle making him sit so deep you could feel him in your fucking guts. God, you didn’t fucking care that he was so much older than you, the way he fucked you, so passionately and so gently at the same time, you didnt care for anyone younger.

“I don't care for quickies.” he replied with an edge to his voice, despite the sass of your mouth, he could feel the way you squeezed the life out of him everytime he hit that perfect spot, getting you closer and closer to your release.

“You’re such an old man.” you managed to reply, but your witty remarks quickly left you when he slipped his free hand to find your swollen clit, which made you painfully aware of how close you were. But Robby could tell.

“Uh-huh, and this old man is gonna make you come,” There was a bit of amusement in his voice at the way your body twitched under him and the way your face twisted with pleasure. You were so close. “Yeah, thought so.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” you choked out, followed by a silent sob when he hit that one spot and you saw white. You were gasping for air as your whole body shuddered. Robby shushed you softly, slowly fucking you through your orgasm. He left wet kisses along your jaw as he whispered sweet words in your ear.

“Atta girl, you did so good.” He hummed as he left a kiss to the side of your head as you dropped your face flat on your blankets, your breath heavy as your body twitched in aftershock. You gasped softly when he slipped out of you, leaving you empty. You wanted to whine, but he gently grabbed your arm and flipped you on your back, and he settled between your legs with ease.

“Alright, lemme look at you. Just want to see how pretty you look.” He ran his fingers over your face, brushing your hair away from your forehead. It was always such a intoxicating feeling to have him on top of you, his pretty brown eyes watching your every move, his chain a reminder that you were about to get fucked (again). You fucking loved this feeling. You couldn’t even make a sound when he slid into you again, your eyes simply fluttering shut and your body twitching with pleasure.

“O-oh my god—!” The way you sounded so utterly fucked out, cock-drunk, it made him feel lightheaded as he fucked into you. He felt a little bad, with how exhausted you both always were, you never fucked this long, or so intensely. So he knew you were going to be so sore for your morning shift tomorrow. But fuck, with the way you squeezed your eyes shut, lips parted, he didn’t want to stop until you were both spent with exhaustion because you just felt so fucking tight and so goddamn heavenly.

“Mhmm I know, I know hun. Feels good hm?” He panted above you, his chain dangling above your face like a mockery of your current position with each thrust he gave you. You nodded harshly, a string of uh-uh-uh’s leaving your pathetic mouth as your nails dragged down his back.

“Feels so good baby.” You squeezed your eyes shut, his voice shooting straight to your pulsing walls, making you whimper.

He gritted his teeth as he felt your walls squeeze the life out of him, a grunt leaving his chest as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You squeezed his hand so tight as he pinned your hand above your head, and he planted his other arm beside your head, attempting to ground himself.

“There you go sweetheart. That’s it.” His raspy voice grounded you as you spasmed around his cock for a second time. Your sounds were so pathetic, the way you sobbed his name was enough to make him completely lose the very little self-control he was holding on to. He fucked you through your orgasm, gave you two, three more sharp thrusts before he fell into his own release, a breathy fuck falling from his lips

Sounds of exhaustion filled the room, drowning out the still on TV you had in the background, your show being completely forgotten the second Robby was at your door. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin as he ran a hand through his hair. Your eyes were screwed shut, your forearm thrown over your face as your racing heart matched your shuddering breath. He sneaked under your arm and left a kiss to the side of your forehead. You giggled a bit and opened your eyes to find his soft brown eyes staring back, there was a smile there, too.

“You want pizza? I bought some earlier from the place you like.” You spoke eventually, your chest now rising and falling in a steady rhythm as you rested your head on Robby’s arm. He turned his head to look at you and smiled in that way that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle a bit.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take some.”

Much to the protest of your legs, you threw yourself on your feet, ignoring the way Robby was chuckling at your struggle. You managed to find a t-shirt, you didn’t know whose it was, probably Robby’s but it was yours now. After making a stop to the bathroom, you were in the kitchen for a bit. Getting fucked made you hungry, so you heated up some pizza for yourself.

“Here’s your delivery, and I do require a tip.” You announced as you came back into your bedroom. Robby looked up from his phone, and he had managed to find his black framed glasses that you loved to tease him about. And a playful smirk formed on your lips. “I definitely want a tip.”

He looked at you confused for a few seconds then he realized and he blew out a laugh, shaking his head with disappointment. “You know, after a certain age one just gets really tired, can’t keep up with people your age. Not that I would know about that.”

You snorted as you flopped down on your bed, handing him his pizza and a can of coke because that was all you had in your fridge. “It’s okay, you’re my favorite old man.”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek, bumping his glasses with your nose. He gave you a look out of the corner of his eye that was anything but amused. Which made you laugh even more as you took a bite out of your pizza.

“I hope I’m your only old man.” He chuckled, squinting his eyes the slightest bit as he typed a text on his phone. God he wished he could turn this fucking thing off. He couldn't even be out of the hospital for an hour before he got bombarded with messages. He caught the way you shot him a glare and he gave you a quick ‘sorry’ before he set his phone down.

“I dunno, the chief of peds is quite the catch.” You couldn’t help but snort at the look he gave you, and you just shot him a smile. “Jokes. Totally joking babe.”

You ate in silence for a while, you kew you had to be up again at six in the fucking morning, but you just wanted to enjoy having him all to yourself for just a little longer. There was still a lingering thought in your mind, you’ve had it all night. It never left your mind. Robby was watching whatever you decided to play on the TV when you turned to look at him.

“Robby,” you said softly, he hummed as he turned his head to look at you. “Do you want to talk about today? It's okay if you don’t… I just think you should talk to someone, and I want to listen.”

You saw the hesitation in his warm eyes, the tension and dread from such a shitty day coming back to him. His lips fell in a flat line, and his jaw locked the slightest bit. You offered him a soft smile as you sat closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder with a soft shake of your head.

“Not tonight, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow.” He sighed out, leaning to leave a kiss to the side of your head. And you nodded with a reassuring smile.

You didn’t know how he was prior to the pandemic, maybe he was worse, or maybe he had gotten better since. But you didn’t mind putting in a little work to break down his walls and help him open. You would do anything, and you were okay with waiting.

#Michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #Dr Robby smut #Dr Robby x you #michael robinavitch #dr robby #the Pitt

2K notes · View notes

shouyuus · 6 months ago

Text

─── Ⅵ FIGURE EIGHTS

violet; 28,888 words; fluff and smut (at the end), semi enemies to lovers, fake dating, hockey!vi x figure skater!reader, ice dancers!meljayce, miscommunication, smau-intermissions, toxic ex!cait, simpgirl!vi, slowburn, the gays r bad at feelings, lots of making out that almost leads to something, emotional edging (for YOU lol), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, oral (r!receiving), slightly unhinged!reader, no "y/n"

summary: a hockey player and a figure skater kind of, sort of, not really, but then actually fall in love. what could possibly go wrong? (narrator: apparently, everything.)

a/n: YALL. yall. YOU. ALL. lmfao. i can't believe i finished this (i say, after writing any fic longer than 5k words). but i TRULY doubted for a second that i would bc as i kept writing, it kept... getting longer? i hope that this doesn't drag, and that you guys like it. it's really a fucking labor of love. like heavy emphasis on the labor. shoutout to @vifilms for being my emotional support, and to my irl bf for actually physically reading through like 90% of this fic out LOUD with me to make sure the dialogue doesn't sound awk. BUT ANYWAYS. pls enjoy and PLS tell me what u guys think!!!! the smau fake texts won't start till chapter three, but ! it's my first time making like.. fake texts so sldkfjsd.

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: party people

chapter one: shut up and kiss me

chapter two: fists to a knife fight

chapter three: love's dream

chapter four: for cup's sake

chapter five: don't hate the player (suggestive)

chapter six: six (nsfw)

─── TAG YOU'RE IT .ᐟ.ᐟ

pls comment below if you'd like to be tagged for this series! :) if you're already on my vi-taglist via my normal taglist link, then you're all good. if you only wanna be tagged for this series, comment below! pls pls have your age visible somewhere on your blog as this will be an 18+ fic!!!! thank you!!!

prologue: party people

─── Ⅵ IT STARTS WITH A GAME of spin the bottle — a college party post-game, the home team the exhalant victors, the crowds of adoring fans the worshippers at their beer-tower altars, doing keg stands and shot-gunning cans of cheap bud lite for an approving grin or a wink.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” you ask, jerking back as a drunken guy nearly topples into you, the red solo cup in his hand sloshing over onto the already sticky linoleum floor.

Mel sighs, “Because, darling, you promised me that you’d come out at least once if me and Jayce made it through the Challenger Series this year.”

She tugs you behind her, weaving through the crush of bodies till the cramped living room area opens onto a much larger patio, the mid-autumn chill cooling your skin.

“It was a joke,” you say, whining slightly even as Mel grabs what looks like an unopened hard cider from the table and presses it into your hand.

“Yes, and one that hurt my feelings,” Mel sniffs, turning her nose up, though a grin teases at her lips, “so to make up for it, you now have to stay at this party and have some semblance of a good time.”

And that was three and a half drinks ago, because sometime between then and now, you’ve found yourself pulled into an unwitting game of spin the bottle with what seems like half the entire hockey team, sitting next to Mel, her boyfriend Jayce on your other side, chatting animatedly with one of the girls hockey girls. You overhear the words “creatin” and “Bulgarian Squat” and decided that it’s time for you to tune out of the conversation.

“Vi, it’s your turn!”

Vi, your thoughts linger over the sound.

It’s a pretty name.

You glance up at the girl sitting across from you, Number Six — you’ve always known her as that, what with the tattoo on her cheek (there were rumors that it’s actually not real and she just reapplies one of those temporary tattoos every two weeks) and the fact that it’s her jersey number, it’s really not too hard to remember.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, laughing as she reaches for the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle. Her right hand’s bandaged up and you can’t help staring at it. When you look up next, it’s to catch her watching you, your eyes meeting in a startling clash of raw contact — the cacophonous noise of the party dulling out to a thin whine somewhere at the back of your head as you stare at her and she stares right back.

You’d never noticed that her eyes, even in the dark, beneath the dim, flickering patio lights, reads mourning-dove blue, so subtle it’s almost gray, so sharp as she takes you in that your stomach drops from inside you. She smirks and twists her fingers expertly around the bottle, setting it whizzing.

You tear your eyes away, your breath sent astray in your chest by just that look alone. You frown at the spinning bottle, your mind abuzz with fragmentary thoughts you can’t quite string along for long enough to form a full sentence — eyes… her lips are pretty… wasn’t she dating… someone? who??? what’s her name again? something pretty —

“— right, ice princess, you ready?”

“Huh?” you jerk your eyes up from the bottle to find everyone watching you. From your left, Mel nudges you with a sanctimonious grin, her eyes flickering down to the bottle and back up towards —

“Go on!” she hisses, even as you blink uncomprehendingly down at the bottle pointing right at you.

Across the circle, Vi’s questioning smirk is all the answer you need as your alcohol-addled brain finally puts together the pieces.

“R-right…” you push up onto your knees, but something holds you back, a niggling feeling in the back of your brain as Vi’s smirk grows wide and she jerks her head towards the living room.

“Want a bit of privacy? Or… would you prefer an audience?”

Half the circle wolf-whistles at the insinuation, the other half roll their eyes, leaning back on their elbows as if to settle in for a long night.

You lick your lips, feeling your mouth scald dry.

“Privacy. Please.”

You follow Vi stiffly from the patio back into the stuffy house, her fingers closing around your wrist as she tugs you behind her through a long hallway splitting off from the main living room, branching into a series of what look like bedrooms. Half the doors are closed, illicit sounds echoing out from behind them, but Vi finds an empty one near the end of the hallway and pushes it open, leading you inside.

“Oh wow,” you say, looking around the room. It’s a typical fratboy’s room, full of suggestive posters, the floor littered with questionably laundered clothes.

“What, not your ideal setting for a makeout-sesh with a stranger?”

You frown as your eyes slingshot back to Vi, her standing feet from you, hands tucked loosely into her pockets, watching you with dark, firefly eyes.

“Thought we were just supposed to kiss once.”

Vi chuckles, closing the distance between you in a few quick strides, crowding you up against the closed door.

“Sure. We can do that. Or…” she makes no effort to hide the way her eyes flicker down to your lips, trailing back up in a line of fire that sizzles against your skin. “I could show you what a real good time looks like.”

Your breath crystalizes in your chest, and the strange, tickling feeling traces down the back of your head till it gathers, hot and unconscionable at the nape of your neck — a spin-click wheel of half-formed thoughts and images ticking by behind your eyelids as you try to remember why the hell this feels so wrong.

And then, it clicks, and you press a hand to Vi’s chest just as she’s leaning down to graze her lips against yours, the friction so delicious you almost lose your train of thought.

“A-are you sure this is a good idea? Didn’t you just break up with that track and field girl? Caitlyn?” you blurt out, a culmination of all the snippets of whispered conversations and half-caught glances of the pair of them across campus. The It-Girl Couple, people called them, the hockey team star and the track and field genius. They were hard to miss, and even harder to forget.

A moth-wing-flicker of emotions crosses Vi’s face as she takes half a step back, her expression morphing into one of shock, and then hurt, and finally, hard-lined disgust as she looks down at you with a thin-lipped grimace.

“Oh fuck you.”

She yanks you from the door, storming out without a backwards glance. You catch yourself against the half-made bed, your breath coming in heaving pants as your head spins. Guilt curdles in the bed of your stomach like spoilt milk, and it only takes you half a second to realize that of all the things to say, that probably was the worst possible choice.

You’d heard mention of the breakup, even if you didn’t have any stakes in this so-called game. It was harsh and messy and loud, and it had spilled across campus like a backed-up toilet, oozing foulness and stank across the grounds till not a single person was left unstained in the aftermath.

“Wait —” you stumble after Vi, but it’s too late. By the time you reach the patio doors, she’s already settling back into her place in the circle, an easy grin slung across her lips.

You swallow, pushing through the door to scurry over to Mel’s side. Mel beams at the flush in your cheeks, convinced (just like the rest of the circle) that it’d been one hell of a kiss, judging by how entirely breathless you are.

“Damn Vi, you gotta learn how to go easy on them figure skaters, hm?” Margot smirks, her eyes glittering as she looks you over, “look at the poor darling — she can barely breathe!”

Everyone laughs, and Vi flashes a convincingly satisfied smirk, shrugging up a shoulder. You glance at her, only to shiver at the arctic ice behind her gaze as your eyes catch once more.

“What can I say? Easy isn’t a setting I come programmed with.”

You duck your head as Vi casts you one more frigid look before turning to laugh at something a teammate has just said, and the circle devolves into good-natured banter and pocket conversations. You gulp around your too-dry throat and pluck Mel’s drink from her hand, tossing the rest of it back in a single gulp. She blinks at you, eyes wide.

“Darling, are you —”

“I — I’m fine just — it’s — I think I’m gonna head back.”

Mel frowns, “Are you sure? I mean —” she looks towards where Vi’s been pulled into an impromptu arm-wrestling match with some dude from the football team, “you could try and —”

You shake your head, “No, I — I think I’m good. I had a good time, I just —” you run a hand through your hair, “I’ve got practice tomorrow and Amara’s gonna murder me if I get there late.”

Mel stares for a second before relenting, a soft sigh on her lips.

“Alright, alright — go on then. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, yes?”

You give her a tight-lipped smile, reaching out for a quick hug before ducking out of the party, skirting the edges of the growing mosh pit forming in the living room till you finally find yourself out on the front steps again.

You close your eyes for a second, pressing your back to the frat house door, feeling the dull thump of the music inside reverberating through the thin wooden frame as you breathe in and out.

You can still taste the heat of Vi’s breath on your lips, feel harsh sting of ice as she’d caught your eyes after. The chill air, once refreshing, pebbles your skin and an involuntary shiver shakes down your spine. You wrap your arms around yourself and give your head a good shake.

Whatever, you think, stepping off the porch, casting your eyes up at the star-strewn sky, a whisp of warm breath fogging up the air before you.

Not like it’ll matter. Bet she won’t even remember me after tonight.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless @armins-slvt

3K notes · View notes

n0vazsq · 21 days ago

Text

My love, mine all mine | OB87 x Reader

pairing . . . ollie bearman x barca!femeni!reader

summary . . . After Ollie gets a sudden interest in the Barca Femeni team, fans connect the dots and reach the conclusion that he has a crush on you. So when they start tagging you on his posts, he has no choice but to confess and ask you out

request . . . no!!

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . sydney schertenleib and girls from pin!

alexavia yaps . . . guys idk why the fic is lowkey ass 💔🥀 hope yall enjoyed tho bc i'm gonna die for like another 2 weeks. requests open currently for oneshot req (for the mini fic series)

olliebearman

liked by kimi.antonelli, pepemartiofficial, isackhadjar and 1.3M others

olliebearman photodump from yesterday! congrats to the fcbfemeni team for winning and great job to yourusername on getting potm!

click to view all comments

username1 ollie is a culer ?!?!

username2 that food looks so good im salivating

username3 HES SO PRETTYYYY

username4 holy fuck he watches women's football?? yourusername we found you a match

username5 gorgeous

username6 stop i checked the girl he mentioned shes so pretty

username7 js checked and my GOD shes stunning

username8 OLLIE???

username9 i cant wait to see the y/n match updates bc i know for a fact this man will tag her in all his upcoming posts like yourusername at least follow him

kimi.antonelli why the sudden interest in the barcelona women's team

olliebearman i've been a fan since i was 4.

kimi.antonelli "kimi why'd no one tell me to watch women's football before" sent yesterday at 10:13 pm

olliebearman ...

pepemartiofficial ollie got exposed for lying 😂

olliebearman SHUT UP pepe

kimi.antonelli next thing we know he's buying match tickets and travelling to spain

isackhadjar the thing is i think he did do it

kimi.antonelli did you, ollie?

olliebearman i'd rather stay quiet

kimi.antonelli oh my god he did it

username10 how does it feel to have a chance, oliver

username11 their conversations are so funny im sobbing

username12 the rookies always have me tearing up from laughing

username13 screaming crying throwing up yourusername i'm begging you look at this

username14 im giggling at their comments

username15 i need more football content ASAP

username16 can y/n or wtv fight

gabrielbortoleto_ i heard ollie was being a loverboy

olliebearman who told you that ??

kimi.antonelli me

olliebearman of course it was you

gabrielbortoleto_ she's out of your league bro

olliebearman no one asked you gabi

isackhadjar he isn't lying

olliebearman all of you shut up and click off this post

kimi.antonelli someone's in a mood

username17 HELPP KIMI AND OLLIE I LOVE YOU

username18 man im itching to get people to ship them yourusername please look at this

username19 im never shutting about this for like another 18 centuries like my goat y/n x my goat ollie this is a grand event in history

username20 watch her ignore him like she did with that other guy i forgot his name

username21 do you mean hector

username20 yeah i think so

username22 poor hector catching strays 😭

username23 man doesn't even know people are making fun of him

username24 whos ollie im here for y/n

username25 hes a f1 racer for haas f1 team

username26 some random racer idk hes not important y/n is

username27 dislike people like yall

username28 oh to be in a relationship with him

pepemartiofficial if only you were catalonian and personally knew her...

olliebearman .

olliebearman do you know how annoying you are

isackhadjar pepe you should show him that picture of you two at your parents' house eating arroz con leche

kimi.antonelli LMFAO

olliebearman this is what i get for being nice

olliebearman btw i know that didn't happen you're just trying to have a go at me

isackhadjar worked didn't it?

pepemartiofficial i should ask y/n to take a picture of me at my parents' house eating arroz con leche

gabrielbortoleto_ ollie would probably rage and start crying

kimi.antonelli or he'll have a fussy tantrum like a toddler

olliebearman ALL OF YOU GET OUT

username29 i need to know when where shes going to be so i can attach myself to her and fight off ollie

username30 DIED. DECEASED. GONE. ROTTING.

NEW NOTIFICATION: olliebearman has started following you !

NEW NOTIFICATION: kimi.antonelli, isackhadjar and gabrielbortoleto_ have started following you !

NEW NOTIFICATION: username187, username9181 and 165K others have started following you !

yourusername

liked by olliebearman, fcbfemeni, lamineyamal and 1.4M others

yourusername day out in my favourite city

click to view all comments

username30 y/n you have me on my KNEES

username31 what id pay to be whoever is dating her

alexiaputellas nina bonita Comment liked by creator

yourusername ahh gracias alexia <3 you're prettier

alexiaputellas all you hermosa

username32 OKAY OKAY I SEE THE VISION

username33 shes so pretty omgggg

username34 idk if i want to be y/n or be with y/n

username35 holy shit shes so gorgeous

username36 came here for ollie stayed for y/n

yourbsf woah youre so hot

yourusername youre hotter

yourbsf nahhh youre way hotter

yourbsf but yk who is hotter than all of us

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yourbsf i texted you the name 😈

yourusername i was expecting it

yourbsf when will you text him

yourusername never

yourusername and don't even try to convince me

yourbsf someday y/n, you two will be out together in love and you'll be thanking me

yourusername no

yourbsf yes

yourusername sigh i deserve better friends

yourbsf reminder that i'm the one who showed you his pictures

yourusername yeah yeah i said he's cute

yourbsf you better think so

username37 man i love them

username38 HELP THE DATING LORE IS INSANE

username39 did yourbsf just expose them or

username40 i feel like im intruding reading the comments between them

pepemartiofficial sooo you know who he is

yourusername i do because SOMEONE forced me to look at his pictures

yourbsf ey ey ey don't involve me in this

yourusername i'm glad you know it's you since i didn't mention names

pepemartiofficial next time we meet i'm giving you both a run down on everything

yourusername good that you told me so i don't meet up with you

yourbsf see pepe? this is what i told you about

pepemartiofficial y/n you're too stubborn give him a chance

yourusername over my dead body

yourbsf guess we'll have to kill her, won't we, pepemartiofficial

pepemartiofficial guess so

yourusername i can't believe i'm best friends with both of you

username41 Y/N IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???

username42 THE PICS??? HELLO??? EXCLUSIVE SUBSCRIPTION??? EXCUSE ME??? HOWS SHE SO PRETYY??

username43 how is she so good looking

username44 the face card is INSANE

username45 I NEED HER SO BADLY UGHHHHHHH

username46 STOP where is that juice stand at the end i'm salivating

username47 need me some juice like that

username48 who tf is ollie and why'd he like before me

username49 some rando who thinks he has a chance

username50 bro thinks he's hector 💀

username51 if my gf aint like this ion want her

olliebearman you're very gorgeous

pepemartiofficial damn no reply no like no acknoledgement

olliebearman close that mouth before i close it for you

pepemartiofficial okay bro no need to throw a tantrum 😭

username52 the way she ignored him HELPPPP

username53 y/n yourusername give this young man a chance

username54 so um whens the wedding

username55 when will she acknowledge him more like

username56 yourbsf fans living the life we knew about this before all of you

username57 im sighing dreamily at these pictures

username58 THE PICS.

username59 giggling blushing and kicking my feet

username60 when will y/n post more y/n sigh

NEW NOTIFICATION: olliebearman has liked 29 of your posts and 45 highlights !

NEW NOTIFICATION: olliebearman has added you to their close friends !

olliebearman

liked by gabrielbortoleto_, kimi.antonelli, isackhadjar and 2.1M others

olliebearman iconic. Tagged: fcbfemeni, yourusername

click to view all comments

username61 Y/N LET HIM HIT HES A PROPER SIMP yourusername

username62 people DIED (i'm people)

username63 THE LOOK OF LOVE

username64 THE RUSH OF BLOOD

username65 THE SHES WITH ME IS THE GALLIC SHURG

username66 he and y/n is not a want its a NEED

username67 GIRL COME HERE yourusername

username68 i just KNOW their kids will be BEAUTIFUL

username69 face card never declined

username70 and never will

kimi.antonelli so you're a big football guy now aren't you

pepemartiofficial bet he watches all matches

gabrielbortoleto_ probably analyses the plays

isackhadjar he 100% studies positions and strategies

kimi.antonelli i'll bet my life savings that he memorised every players' jersey number, name, age, ethnicity and country of birth

olliebearman what did i do to you all

olliebearman what is this modern day torture

username72 Y/N PLEASE NOTICE HIM yourusername

username73 y/n x ollie

username74 the otp fr

username75 the lack of the y/n is starting to concern me

username76 fr like WHERE IS SHEEE

pepemartiofficial hey yourusername i think someone likes you

olliebearman SHUT UP

pepemartiofficial jeez chillax

username77 sobbing i feel bad for ollie

yourbsf please please please notice him y/n i know you know who he is yourusername yourusername yourusername yourusername yourusername yourusername yourusername

olliebearman not you too

username78 i could feel the hurt in ollie's words

username79 theyre more chaotic than we thought oh my god

username80 everyone said lets spam mention y/n so she notices him and i love it

pepemartiofficial clock is ticking and so is our patience

pepemartiofficial come one oliver make your move

olliebearman josep maria marti i'm going to murder you

yourbsf he pulled the full name

pepemartiofficial im sorry pls dont kill me

yourbsf he wont just because you're the mutual friend 😂

olliebearman i'm literally right here

yourbsf do you think i care

olliebearman oh wow

pepemartiofficial ollie got humbled lmfao

username81 deleting all my socials after this but yourusername come here

username82 they are SOULMATES vro yourusername

username83 HSHSHSH NOT EVERYONE MENTIONING HER AFTER EVERY COMMENT LMFAOOOOOO yourusername

username84 Y/N WYAAAA yourusername

username85 legit romance book vibes yourusername

username86 imagine being this in love yourusername

yourbsf to think this all started with pepe's birthday

pepemartiofficial it's crazy

yourbsf and now ollie is in love

username87 VISCA BARCA !!!!!!!! yourusername

username88 i am JEALOUS, ENVIOUS, GREEN. but oh well yourusername

username89 i mean they were bound to meet sooner or later bc of pepe being a mutual friend yourusername

username90 they ARE the main characters yourusername

username91 FRR like everyone else is just a side character yourusername

username92 alexa play 'that should be me' by justin bieber yourusername

gabrielbortoleto_ when will you make your move

olliebearman never with you as my friends

kimi.antonelli stay single and miserable then xx

pepemartiofficial yeah we all have gfs

gabrielbortoleto_ except isack but he doesn't count

olliebearman YOU DON'T NEED TO REMIND ME I'M AWARE

username93 dont make his heart break yourusername

username94 STOP I CANT WAIT TO SEE HER IN THE PADDOCK yourusername

username95 if they dont get together then love isnt real yourusername

kimi.antonelli this is your last chance to make your move oliver

olliebearman PLEASE STOP

pepemartiofficial is he okay

gabrielbortoleto_ prolly not

isackhadjar he'll survive

username96 i just know they'll be each other's ride or dies yourusername

username97 where to buy a ollie asking for a friend

username98 if i could id just take over one of their bodies to experience this love yourusername

username99 im waiting for the fics yourusername

username100 straight out of romeo and juliet yourusername

isackhadjar when's the move loverboy?

olliebearman i'm begging you all please stop

kimi.antonelli i think we drove him crazy

pepemartiofficial he deserves it no one told him to publicly announce his little boy crush

INSTAGRAM TEXTS BETWEEN YOU AND @olliebearman

olliebearman: hi y/n! i'm ollie, nice to meet you!

yourusername: i know who you are ollie

yourusername: pepe wouldn't leave me alone

yourusername: nice to meet you too though

olliebearman: sorry about my friends being annoying

olliebearman: and all the fans tagging you

yourusername: don't worry about it, it was fun to watch while it lasted

olliebearman: yeah i just wanted to tell you something

olliebearman: all these comments pressured me to do it

yourusername: you don't have to say anything you don't want to, ollie

olliebearman: it's alright, i want to get it off my shoulders

olliebearman: and make everyone stop annoying me about it

yourusername: what's up then?

yourusername: is it something to do with pepe or my bsf

olliebearman: no no

olliebearman: it's actually got to do someting with you

yourusername: oh?

olliebearman: yeah

olliebearman: please don't block me or ignore me after i tell you

yourusername: don't worry

yourusername: i won't

yourusername: now continue i'm really curious

olliebearman: alright... here goes nothing

olliebearman: i really like you y/n

olliebearman: i have for a while actually

olliebearman: ever since that time pepe introduced us last year

yourusername: that's really sweet ollie

olliebearman: i've made it awkward haven't i??

yourusername: no no no

yourusername: you're really cute tbh

yourusername: and i did have a teensy tiny crush on you since we last met too

olliebearman: oh wow

olliebearman: this turned out so much better than i expected

olliebearman: i'm so glad you like me back

yourusername: dw about it

yourusername: seeing you like this is cute

olliebearman: so y/n i have a question

yourusername: yeah?

olliebearman: would you like to go out with me?

yourusername: i'd love to <3

olliebearman: great!! you're free next weekend right?

yourusername: yeah! i am

olliebearman: then you can come to the spanish gp!

olliebearman: you can stay in the haas garage (my side)

olliebearman: if it's alright for you i'll ask my team to send you the details

yourusername: oh my god ollie i've always wanted to watch an f1 race

yourusername: tysm for inviting me

yourusername: and i hope you get a good result in the race

olliebearman: i will

olliebearman: for you

NEW NOTIFICATION: olliebearman has mentioned you in their close friends story !

yourusername

liked by olliebearman, yourbsf, gabrielbortoleto_ and 2.1M others

yourusername spanish gp done so i'm headed to italy and oh btw olliebearman and me are dating

click to view all comments

username101 cue the yourbsf meltdown in...

username102 3...

username101 2...

username102 1...

yourbsf Y/N YOU DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT THIS

yourbsf A BOY????

yourbsf YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND??

yourbsf A RACER BOY????

yourbsf THE BOY YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T DATE OVER YOUR DEAD BODY?

yourbsf YOU DISGRACE

yourbsf TRAITOR

yourusername are you done?

yourbsf NO

yourusername dont say it then

username103 dont know if i should be shocked or unsurpirsed

username104 both

kimi.antonelli congrats y/n!! so happy for both of you

yourusername thank you kimi !!

olliebearman thank you!! glad you're being nice for ONCE

username105 KIMI BEING THE SUPPORTIVE YOUNGER BROTHER FIGURE MY HEARTTTTT

username106 i just know damn well yourbsf is on the verge of tears

username107 SHES SO GORGEOUS I CANT

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olliebearman got the girl of my dreams so i'm gonna brag about it forever Tagged: yourusername

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yourusername has posted three new stories !

caption 1: back to BCN // caption 2: don't tell loverboy abt this // caption 3: 🤍🤍

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to be continued....?

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree ,, @freyathehuntress ,, @chilling-seavey ,, @eloriis ,, @linnygirl09 ,, @joaosnovia ,, @damonsalvatorelikessex ,, @somerandomf1fan ,, @kevinlolwife ,, @veyveyx (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

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ayyy-pee · 10 months ago

Text

𝕆𝕌𝕋𝕃𝔸𝕎

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Part Two of WANTED Series - WANTED Masterlist

Pairing: Outlaw!Suguru Geto x Female Reader Genre: Western AU WC: 8.7k Summary:

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?” “Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud. It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him. “What about you?” His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?” You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

Story Warning: Train robbery, hostage situation, lying and scheming, profanity bc bitch it's me??, dub-con, Suguru has a corruption kink, needy downbad Suguru, "virgin" reader, guns, smut, blowjob, riding, fingering, spit, thinking about spitting, i love spit, dirty fantasies, titty sucking probably, using ropes, hair pulling (lmfaooooo), threats of violence, dirty talk, inexperienced reader, spit!, overstimulation, humiliation kink, Suguru is kinda pathetic, actually real pathetic, don't get your hopes up idk

Artist Credit: @/tsumusbeloved (on twitter)

A/N: FINALLYYYYY. This has been sitting in my drafts for like 3 months!!! I hope yall enjoy!!!

Tags: @syubseokie @yasu-1234 @cassayeee @glmpsfs @struxkbylightning @aotdump @oidloid @sunnysdiarythoughts @stillseren @lovebittenbyevans @avaatara @elliesndg @luv-kae @megtheebimbo @buttercupblu143 @toffeebrat @kaqua@moggleatlife @candy-s72 @sukunadckrider @xixflower @apchmon

It’s the shrill screech of the metal meeting metal on the train tracks that Suguru enjoys most about his work. How this massive tank of metal carrying so many people can just fly across the country, providing beautiful views of miles and miles of desert sands and mountains. The wildlife roams free on the frontier without a care in the world. And the train just keeps going, filling the sky with thick curls of black smoke.

Yeah, this train has many people on it.

Which means, this train has plenty of goods that will soon be his.

“Ah, you dropped your hat, boss.” A smooth voice speaks behind Suguru, holding open the train door as one other clambers in. Suguru kindly grabs his hat from the man, placing it atop his head as he watches his partner take the last person’s hand, lifting them inside.

It’s a woman, small and with strawberry blonde hair. She grabs onto the man before her. The disgust is clear on her face as her eyes roam along his body.

“Couldn’t pick another day to wear no shirt, Larue?” She complains, spreading a small cloud of dust as she brushes her clothes off.

Larue shrugs, chuckling lightly while he closes the train door. The rushing roar of the winds finally subsides. “It’s hot as all hell outside, Manami. Why not be shirtless? Besides, it gives everyone something spectacular to gawk at.” He motions towards his chest where his new set of ink lies – two hearts, one where each of his nipples are.

“A drunken bet gone right, if you ask me,” Larue had said the night after. “They’re gonna love these at the whorehouse.”

“If you two’re finished…” Suguru begins. Both Larue and Manami straighten up. “I wanna get in ‘n outta here. No funny business. Larue, take the back of the train. Better for you to be there in case the conductor gets any ideas. Grab what ‘ya can get your hands on – jewels, shoes, money. Don’t matter.” Suguru taps his chin in thought, running through his mental list to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. “Oh! And don’t forget to check the bars for any spoons or forks. Y’know what that silver’s worth. Me ‘n Manami will take the front of the train.”

Larue nods, no further instruction needed and Manami smiles next to him excitedly. She quickly shuffles over to Suguru’s side, looping her arm through his and Suguru rolls his eyes before slipping his arm out of her hold. Manami shoots him a pouty look before she quickly recovers, folding her arms over her chest.

“Alright, Boss. I’m ready.” She says with a hushed tone. Larue gives one more nod before he turns around and heads the opposite way. He slides the door slightly ajar, peering inside and just after he enters and the door has been shut and locked, Suguru and Manami hear the muffled shrieks of the passengers in the car.

“Hands in the fucking air! This is a stick up!”

Suguru peers down at Manami who is already staring up at him with eager eyes. And it takes everything in Suguru to not roll his eyes in response. She really gets on his last nerve.

‘I gotta get rid of her after this one,’ he thinks as he moves past the woman and into the opposite end of the train.

He slips through the door, closing it quietly behind Manami once she’s in. No one bothers to look up when they come in and Suguru counts his lucky stars that this will be easier than he anticipated. They make their way along the aisle, offering soft smiles to the passengers that happen to look up as they pass. Suguru thinks there’s nothing but a bunch of carefree monkeys too relaxed and stupid as all hell on this train. They don’t even know what’s coming and if they know what’s good for them, they won’t bother to fight back when they find out.

He lets Manami do the work of maintaining a mental checklist of every item worth its salt in this train car. This is where he’ll leave Manami to do her part. Then Suguru will take the final car where the stragglers usually reside. Larue is already taking care of everything in the back. When he’s done, he’ll pile up all the goods in an empty car and then make his rounds to grab what Manami and Suguru collect.

When they reach the end of the current car, Suguru turns to Manami who is already reaching into her blouse. She beams, eyes locked on Suguru as she slowly pulls out a pretty little Colt’s revolver. Her lips pull up at the corners, a sly grin on her face. If it’s meant to be alluring to Suguru, it’s not working. In fact it’s having the opposite effect. It’s so annoying, the way her pupils dilate when she looks at him. It’s only been a few months since Manami joined their group, but it’s only getting worse for Suguru. She spends half her time trying to seduce him and failing. And it’s not that Manami is unattractive. She’s a very beautiful woman, but she’s not exactly Suguru’s type.

He’s looking for someone a bit more…inexperienced when it comes to this life of crime. Someone he can mold into his ideal woman, untouched by the roughness that west has to offer. Manami has been doing this for far too long, and already has habits that consistently get under Suguru’s skin. She’d never interest him that way.

The pink haired woman flashes Suguru her gun, pointing her chin towards the last car as a signal for him to go on. Suguru nods, spinning on his heel and heading towards his destination. And just in time too, because he hears the door on the other end of the train car close and he knows Larue has finished and has come to assist Manami.

The train car slides shut behind Suguru right as he hears the passengers scream in the car behind him. It’s louder than the first instance and catches the attention of the passengers in his car who now stare at him with wide eyes, mouths agape like a sea of fish.

Suguru rubs the nape of his neck, frowning. Then, offering a goofy grin, he mutters, “Ah well…” He reaches behind him, wrapping his nimble fingers around the cool, wooden handle tucked into his waistband. He whips out his revolver, the sun glaring off of the fancy gold weapon as Suguru aims it at the passengers who all shriek in terror. The women clutch their jewels. The men hold onto their women. And Suguru? He laughs raucously before he barks out, “Put ‘em up!”

- - - - - -

It’s a little surprising how easily the heist goes, but Suguru tries not to give it too much thought. You start thinking something’s gonna go wrong and it damn sure will. While Manami is guiding passengers into the back cars, Larue has the conductor held hostage, locked away with threats of a bullet to his skull unless he continues driving. He’d only shown his face and quickly hid away in his cabin when Suguru told him to use his fucking brain unless he wanted it splattered across the window.

Now, Suguru finds himself roaming the cabin to see if there are any stragglers. And there is one. A very beautiful woman, at that. There you sit, in the last seat of the train car. He slowly makes his way over to you. Suguru thinks you must be some type of saloon girl. Your pretty little dress and waist neatly cinched in a leather corset is the giveaway. He glances over his shoulder, just to be sure this cabin is empty, only to find that it truly is only himself and you left. He hates having to wrangle the stragglers. That’s Manami and Larue’s job. And Suguru hates it even more when they’re not doing it.

He tightens the grip on his gun, turning to give you an earful until his eyes meet yours. They’re so wide and glistening, like you’re on the verge of tears. Your lips are quivering, your bottom lip protruding in a pout. It reminds him of the look Manami gave him just before the heist started. Except when coming from you, for some reason, it’s bringing out a different reaction.

His heart rate quickens, and Suguru’s hands suddenly feel clammy and not from the heat in this train car. He can feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and he has to swallow to quell the dryness that’s forming in his throat. Then he’s tucking his weapon away into his holster and moving towards you.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Suguru speaks calmly as he takes the seat in front of you. You peer up at him, with apparent fear in your eyes and he wants nothing more than to see that look disappear. Usually, he’d use force to get you out and rounded up with the rest of the passengers. He’s not sure why, but there’s something about you that makes Suguru want to take care of you. “Why didn’t you leave with the rest of the crowd?” He questions.

You’re fidgeting with the fabric of your dress in your lap, visibly shaken even as Suguru removes his hat and sets it on the seat in front of you before he sits down.

“I–” you clear your throat and bite down on your lip, seemingly to calm your nerves.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, ma’am,” he tells you softly, reassuring you. “Just wonderin’.” Suguru takes this time to drink in your features – how soft you look, the way your body so beautifully fills that dress of yours, how you’ve got a face that will be burned into his memory long after this encounter.

And for some reason, it also feels as if it was burned into his memory long before this encounter. There’s a familiarity about you that Suguru can’t quite place. He’s certain he’s seen your face somewhere. He had been through many saloons and brothels in his time traveling the frontier. Perhaps he had run into you in one of the many establishments he frequented?

No. No, Suguru would remember if he saw a woman who looked like you in any of those places. You would have easily stood out in the crowd. He would have called you up to his room on any of those nights.

You bite down on your lip as you stare at Suguru. As afraid as you look, you don’t break eye contact. To see you so stricken with fear, and yet you steadily look him in the eye without blinking. You show courage even when faced with danger, and it does something to him.

The look on your face has him picturing all sorts of things about you and he doesn’t even know your name.

“I was afraid,” you mutter quietly.

Thankfully so, because Suguru was just about to begin imagining a life outside of crime with you. Which is shocking in and of itself. Three minutes of simply staring at you had him visualizing a future on the prairie hanging laundry on the line while you fed the cattle.

‘Keep it together.’

“Don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurt nobody,” Suguru reassures you again. He tries to calm your nerves with a smile which seems to work because he sees you visibly exhale. You return his gesture with a small smile of your own, and his imagination runs wild once more.

“Promise?” You ask, Suguru’s smile widens.

‘Cute,’ he thinks. He wants to see more of those. “I promise, sweetheart.”

He can hear the way you huff, something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. And Suguru finds himself becoming more and more infatuated with you as he keeps the conversation going.

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?”

“Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud.

It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him.

“What about you?”

His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?”

You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

He leans back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while he purses his lips together. His gaze is locked onto you because he wonders if you’re up to something. If you’re not as sweet and innocent as you look. But when you lean back and flutter your lashes at him, he begins to doubt it. That sweet face of yours is a rare one to see on this side of the wild west; beautiful and unscarred. You don’t look like you’ve been exposed to anything more dangerous than a thunderstorm. And it’s arousing. The air of innocence that you carry has Suguru shifting in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling tighter.

This is exactly what he’s been wanting. Someone opposite of Manami, someone who is interested in his life, but not involved with crime in the least. As far as he can tell, you’re clean as a whistle. And Suguru likes to think he’s good at reading people.

“Never seen a outlaw before?” He drawls. You shake your head, back to messing around nervously with your dress.

“Never,” you answer softly, batting those pretty, long lashes at him. “Only seen ‘em on signs. Wanted…dead, or alive.”

Oh, you really are sheltered.

“Well, now you’ve seen one in person.” Suguru combs his fingers through his dark tresses, grinning like his criminal status is one to be proud of. To him, he supposes it is. “What d’ya think?”

You do that lip biting thing that Suguru is beginning to realize he finds cute. Maybe it’s a nervous tick, but this time it seems it’s to be you holding back a smile. Everything you do is cute to him. Everything you do is sweet, innocent, arousing.

“I…” You lean forward in your seat again, and whether you realize it or not, it gives Suguru a perfect view of the swell of your breasts. It’s a struggle to keep his focus on your face when your skin looks so smooth, and unmarred, perfect. Those plush lips of yours whisper, “...I think it’s exciting.”

He can only think one thought in this moment.

He wants to ruin you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s excitin’ about it?” He asks, though he has an idea what it is. The travel, not being tied down to anyone or anything, the freedom this life provides. It’s what they all say when they try to make small talk. “Pretty girl like you can’t possibly know nothin’ about this life.”

You inhale deeply, leaning back in your seat and Suguru watches closely, the way your chest rises and falls with the breath. “Well, I never seen a outlaw in person. Surely never spoke to one. And…” You purse your lips together, like you’re contemplating if you should say the next thing. But you do anyway. “I just never thought a outlaw could be so pretty.”

His eyes widen, the corners of his lips rising with a goofy grin. “Pretty?” He chuckles, combing his fingers through his hair again. “You really think so?”

He’s been called a lot of things, but pretty is not one of them.

“Yep. Look at ya.” You stand, moving quickly to cross the small gap between you both and take a seat next to him. You reach for his arm, then hesitate, pulling back for a second. You peer up at Suguru, silently asking permission and he nods. Your fingers ghost along his forearm, over his bicep, along his neck where his Adam's apple bobs with a gulp, and then your hand is cupping his cheek. Your trail leaves behind a trail of goosebumps.

And Suguru’s pants grow tighter.

Suguru has had his fair share of women and men alike during his time as a felon. But you’re particularly tempting. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants you right now and it’s been all of ten minutes in this train car together. But any minute now, his crew is going to come through those doors and tell him they’re ready to go. And then Suguru will have to leave and the chances of him seeing you ever again are slim to none.

But on the bright side, the chances of him seeing you again are slim to none. It’s a little sudden, but you seem like you want him with the way you’re feeling him up right about now. Maybe you'd let him bury his cock as deep as he can go, fuck you until you’re screaming his name, begging and crying on his cock. Then he’ll fill you with his seed, maybe leave a baby in you to remember him by if you’re lucky and then he’ll grab his spoils with Larue and the rest and go. Then he'll never see you again.

This desert is far and wide. He’d have you today, then never have to face you again for the rest of his life. A woman like you? You'll be just fine. A pretty face and an even prettier smile. Though he thinks you're a bit naive. Have to be to be sitting here chatting with him like he’s some gentleman you met on a leisurely trip to see your relatives. Regardless, there will be some poor fool out there that'll be happy to have you after he's had his way with you.

‘Weren’t you just daydreaming about settling down with this woman?’

“Pretty eyes,” you hum, pulling Suguru from his filthy fantasies. “Nice skin, pretty lips. Just…very pretty.” Your thumb caresses his skin and his eyes can't help but notice the way your gaze is locked to his lips. He pokes his tongue out, watching your eyes widen just slightly at the motion, as he runs the wet muscle along his lips. And he’s right back in his head, thinking of all the ways he could have you.

There’s no mistaking the thick tension filling the room at this moment. Like a lightning bolt hitting the same spot repeatedly. Each stroke of your fingers along his cheek only intensifies the mood. Suguru’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, and yours into one that matches. “Why do I feel like you're trouble?” He says.

Your smile widens, and like a magnet, Suguru finds himself slowly being drawn closer and closer to you. Even as a soft laugh falls from your lips, his mind is wiped clean of all thoughts that don't consist of you.

“Me? That’s funny comin’ from a outlaw like yourself,” you mutter just as you close the distance between you, pressing your lips teasingly to Suguru's. They barely touch, truly a ghost of a touch but Suguru still has to swallow down the moan that damn near bursts from his chest the second your mouth was close enough to his.

You pull away suddenly, covering your lips as you lean away, your eyes wide with worry. “‘m sorry.”

“What are you apologizin’ for?” Suguru asks, scooting closer.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me…I just…” You’re back to fidgeting with your dress again, and Suguru places a large hand over yours to stop the movement. “You’re a criminal, and I’m just me. I shouldn’t even be talkin’ to you.” You stare up at him with wide eyes, and fuck he wants you.

You look so sweet, so pure looking at him like that. And he feels a little like a piece of shit because while you’re looking at him with probably innocent thoughts floating around in your head, he’s thinking about how he’d love nothing more than to cover your face in his seed.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Suguru lies easily. “Have I done bad things?” He shrugs, because he’s done way too many terrible things to count. Better not to give a real answer to that one. “But I’m enjoyin’ our conversation. The kiss was just a perk. Wouldn’t mind it if it happened again. I’d gladly accept it.”

“But…I don’t even know you…”

‘All the better,’ is what he wants to say, but instead, he tells you, “And that’s fine. Listen–” he squeezes your hand gently. “Best part of bein’ a criminal is that I just do what I want. Don’t gotta ask permission for nothin’.”

Your eyes swim with curiosity. “It’s that easy?”

“Yep. Do what makes ya feel good, sweetheart.”

You still don’t look convinced, and if this next question doesn’t work, Suguru will have no choice but to tie you up and dump you in the other train car with the rest of the hostages. He doesn’t have much time to waste trying to get you just to kiss him.

“Lemme ask ya…did you like kissin’ me?”

He knows he should be worrying about the heist, not some pretty face distracting him from the job. But when you speak again, he tells himself the job can go to hell.

“Yes…but…I got scared. I– I’ve only done some things with a man…” you admit quietly. “And I’m not too good at it.”

Fuck. He has to have you.

“That’s not a problem, sweetheart,” he reassures you, and you beam.

Your hand grasps onto Suguru’s, squeezing tightly. “Really?”

He nods. “I don’t got much time before I gotta leave, but I can show ya some things real quick.”

“You’ll show me? How to do things?” Your voice is eager, so ready. Suguru is finding it hard to contain how much you’re turning him on right now. “Like kissin’ and…y’know other stuff?”

“What kinda stuff?” He asks, because he wants you to say it. Wants to know how far you’re willing to go if you’ve never done a damn thing before. You pinch your lips together, turning your head away shyly. But Suguru gently cups your chin, turning you to look at him again.

“What kinda stuff?” He repeats. “Tell me.”

“Stuff…that makes a man…y’know…”

He grins, tauntingly. “Enlighten me,” he whispers.

“Stuff to make a man…” you worry your lip between your teeth. “...feel good.”

Oh hell.

What type of good deeds has Suguru done to find himself here? With someone as virtuous as you, who is asking him of all people to show you how to please him? He has half a mind to tell you no. He’s got shit to do and his partners are bound to come looking for him any minute. But his cock is screaming within the confines of his pants to get into those undergarments of yours. And there’s no argument to be had here.

He’s listening to his dick.

Suguru crashes his lips to yours, swallowing up the yelp that escapes you from the sudden kiss. “I’ll teach ya whatever ya want, pretty girl.” He groans into your mouth.

He kisses you hard, but slowly, giving you time to catch up. You’re a little slow to pick up, but you get there. Your lips slot against his, fingers slipping into his hair and holding on tight, making Suguru groan into the kiss once more.

“We don’t got a lotta time,” he breathes against you.

You nod, pulling away to look up at him. “What d’ya want?”

You.

He needs you – bent over the passenger seat and holding onto the bar sitting atop it while he fucks you from behind. He needs you sitting on his face, needs your hand around his length. But he’s looking at your face again, so desperate for instruction. Looks at your lips, swollen from the little bit of kissing you’ve been doing. And he knows exactly what he needs in this moment.

“Ever had a cock in your mouth?” He shifts, sitting back against the seat.

You shake your head.

“Ever touched one?”

Another shake of your head.

“What have you done?”

You hum, thinking only for a short time before you answer. “Kissed.”

What fucking luck.

Doesn’t matter what they score off the train today. This is the biggest reward of all.

“Good,” Suguru says, tugging your hand until you stand. With a grin, he guides you to the floor until you’re sitting up on your knees. “There won’t be another man who’s had ya then. I’ll show ya how to please me, make me feel good.”

You nod, and Suguru can’t believe how easy this was as he fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing the buckle. He yanks his pants down, along with his underwear. Only to his knees. He wants to be able to get up quickly if needed. Suguru’s dick sits against his stomach, fat and long, with a harsh red tip that leaks with precum. He peers down at you, your eyes honed in on his length.

“Touch it,” he whispers encouragingly.

Your eyes meet as you move, your hands wrapping around Suguru tenderly, pulling a hiss from him. You hold his length like it’s a foreign object, and he supposes it is to you since it’s the first time you’ve done. Suguru grits his teeth, bringing a hand up to your fist. You’re simply touching him and his dick is throbbing in your grip.

“Move your hand…up ‘n down,” he tells you. “Like this.” He guides you, helping to move your hand in slow and light pumps until you’ve found a rhythm that works. His head falls back as the pleasure takes over. “Ahhh–shit, just like that, pretty girl.”

“It’s so big…” you sigh, licking your lips as you stroke his cock slowly.

From here, Suguru is certain he has a perfect view of you. Eyes wide and curious while you observe every ridge and vein running along his length. It turns him on beyond measure, his hips jerking upward in your grasp.

“Damn,” he moans, fucking himself into your hands. For someone with no experience, you hold his dick just right. He never knew a woman’s touch could feel this good, but you’re a natural talent. You stroke him so good, his mouth falls slack as he lets himself enjoy the feeling of your hands around him. But you surprise him, just as you’ve been doing all this time, his eyes snapping open just in time to watch you lick from the base of his length all the way to the tip, teasing the slit with your tongue and lapping up the bead of precum that sits there.

“It’s salty,” you giggle before you kiss down his shaft, bringing your attention to his balls, kissing and licking the two orbs teasingly. Suguru inhales sharply, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the sensation makes his head swim with pleasure. Especially when your hand wraps around Suguru’s length again, pumping him up and down, slowly as you continue to lap at his balls.

“You’re already so good at this,” Suguru pants heavily.

“I am?”

He can hear the excitement in your voice, so eager to please him. It turns him on knowing that you’re trying so hard to make him feel good. He wonders if you can feel his cock throb in your hands.

“So fucking good,” he praises you, loving the way you hum against him.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” You ask sweetly, squeezing your hands around his cock.

“God, please.”

When you take Suguru into the warmth of your mouth, you hum around him, and the vibrations make him shiver, back arching off of the seat. His palm finds the back of your head, his hips rolling up so he can shove his cock as far as possible without hurting you. He’s gentle at first. You’ve never done this before, after all. He wants to give you the time you need to adjust, though he can’t afford to give you too much. Which seems to be just fine, because just like before, you catch on quickly. You take his cock damn near to the base, and you take it so well, relaxing your throat for him so it’s easy.

“Could fuck this pretty little mouth all day,” Suguru grunts, pumping into you. “So goddamn good.” The sound of his balls slapping against your chin as he fucks your face has his legs trembling, pleasure shooting straight up his spine. He wants to grab your head and push you down further, make you swallow all of him until he blows his load down your throat, then make you swallow that, too. But he doesn’t want to cum just yet.

He craves more from you. He needs more from you.

You hum again, sending another vibration through him as your fingers come up, caressing his balls. And Suguru squeezes his eyes shut, trying so hard not to cum. “Ah– shit, shit!” He pushes at your shoulders, forcing you off of him with a loud and wet pop. You look rather pleased with yourself, smiling when you see his red cheeks and the way he rapidly tries to catch his breath.

Like he noted before. You’re trouble.

“Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he gasps, staring at your chin dripping with saliva and his juices. Suguru watches through hooded eyes as you swipe it away. He could watch you on your knees all day, taking his cock down your throat time and time again. But unfortunately, time is not on his side today. He needs to hurry it up.

“C’mere, pretty,” he calls for you, taking your hand. You stand, waiting for your next instruction as Suguru leans forward in his seat. His hands find your waist, pulling you close enough that he can press a kiss to your stomach before he leans back again. “Pull up your skirt for me.”

“Okay…” you agree, shakily. You reach for the hem of your skirt, pulling the layers of fabric as high as it’ll go. Suguru always hated these damn dresses. It’s like digging for gold trying to get through every damn piece of clothing. But eventually, you get to the end, revealing your bare thighs to him. Soft, plush, beautiful. But what he’s truly interested in remains concealed by your underwear.

Suguru swallows hard before he drags his finger along your clothed pussy, grinning when your thighs tremble just barely. His gaze glides back up your form until they rest on your face, watching as your mouth falls open with a silent moan.

Hard to believe you’ve never been touched here. Also, so very arousing to think you’ve never been touched here. He thanks his lucky stars that you’re allowing him to be the first.

He slips his finger into the fabric, his slender fingers quickly finding your slit and sliding along your folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how soaked you are. He briefly brushes a finger against your entrance, pausing when he feels you tense up.

“Might hurt a little,” he warns as softly as he can manage right now. But you whisper, “go ahead”, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he dips his finger into your pussy, biting back a moan when he feels your soft walls clench down on his hand. It’s tight, as expected but he moves slowly, pulling back every so often to work his way further.

You whimper above him, squeezing his shoulders as your breaths come rapidly while Suguru pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your bottom lip sits between your teeth, and your brows are knitted together.

You’re enjoying this.

And he’s enjoying watching you.

Suguru presses his thumb to your clit, slowly circling the sensitive nub. Dark eyes lock with yours as his other hand finds the top of your dress where he hooks his fingers into the cups and pulls it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric and your breath hitches when the air caresses your nipples. Suguru kneads the soft flesh, his thumb swiping across one of the hardened buds.

“Ahhh, yes,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head falls back with a loud gasp as Suguru slips another finger into you.

“Bein’ real good for me,” he coos. His dick grows painfully harder as he slowly thrusts his fingers inside of you, while his thumb stimulates your clit. He’s panting trying to hold himself together while he preps you for what he wants next. Your hips move on their own, riding Suguru’s hand, chasing your high.

“Feel good?” He grunts, fingers slipping into you over and over, curling inside, and hitting your sweet spot and you can’t help but to gasp quietly each time Suguru touches it.

“Y-yes, feels incredible,” you whine.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on your center where he watches his fingers disappear into your cunt over and over, your slick coating his hand more with each thrust. It only adds to Suguru’s struggle to keep it together as he ignores the pulsing need of his cock. Your pleasured moans and the squelching sound of your dripping pussy fill the space of the train car.

“I’m–” you breathe harshly against him and he feels your walls squeeze down on his digits. You’re close already.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” Suguru’s fingers dip into you faster. His eyes linger on your face as his thumb rubs tight circles on the sensitive bud between your legs. Your eyes flutter closed, mouth hanging open as a delicious moan rushes past your lips, your grip on Suguru’s shoulders tightening so much it stings. But he loves it, loves feeling your pussy squeezing down on his fingers, sucking them deeper as your release crashes over you until he can feel your cum dripping down his fingers and into his palm as he keeps pumping into you.

Suguru sighs as he stares at his fingers, slowly pulling them from you. He licks his lips, admiring his slick covered hand.

He’s never taken the time to just enjoy the moment with anyone. Never cared much to please a woman. It’s easier for him to just get himself off and high tail it out of there. No attachment to these ladies, no reason to stick around. But what is it about you that makes him want to see all the ways your body is capable of falling apart? Because it’s a beautiful sight to behold.

“Outlaw…” you murmur, slipping your undergarments down your legs until you’re able to kick them off. You push Suguru back by the shoulders, lifting your skirt so that you can easily maneuver into his lap. His hands find your hips beneath your dress as you straddle him, and his thumbs caress the soft skin gently.

“Yeah, beautiful?”

So beautiful. He can’t stop staring at you and your eyes, glazed over with desire. You lean forward, the heat from between your legs making Suguru’s length twitch. It lightly taps your core and you gasp. Your hands clutch onto the bar that runs along the top of the train seat, one on each side of his head. Suguru’s palms glide around to your backside, squeezing the flesh of your ass. You brush your nose against his, soft breaths mingling with his as you whisper, “make love to me, outlaw…” just before your lips touch.

And Suguru’s groaning into your mouth, because this kiss is different. It’s hungry, hot, full of want and need. It’s sloppy and rushed, because you’re both aware of the time crunch you’re in. It’s intoxicating, addicting, the way he never wants to stop kissing you. To hell with the heist.

“Ready for me, pretty girl?” Suguru pants, a hand gripping his cock. He can feel the heat of your pussy radiating off of you and it makes him all the more eager to have you.

Your eyes are wide, filled with something Suguru thinks may be excitement. He’s not sure he sees any hesitation or fear behind your eyes. You want him badly, it’s clear as day. He wants you just as badly, if not more. So he positions himself at your entrance, nudging your hole gently with his tip.

A small whimper slips past your lips, and Suguru kisses you sweetly. “It’s only gonna hurt for a second,” he coos. “Promise…”

He kisses you again, muttering, “I’m pushin’ in…” against your lips.

You close your eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip as Suguru rolls his hips forward, slowly sinking his tip into your pussy, only stopping when you let out a harsh breath.

“‘S a tight fit,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. An understatement. Your pussy is gripping him with so much force, he’s struggling to breathe. You’re holding him hostage within your walls and the feeling has him tightening his hold on your ass. “You alright?”

Because he wants to make sure it feels good for you, too. Your pleasure is his. Which is a whole new feeling for him in and of itself. He’s aware of how the tables have turned. What started as him wanting to show you ways to please him, turned into him desperate to please you. But he likes it that way.

You nod, moaning quietly when Suguru keeps moving forward. “Ohhh…”

“God, this pussy is so fuckin’ –” he can’t even finish his sentence. He needs to focus all his attention on not cumming already.

You take him all the way to the base, moaning loudly when you fully sink onto him. Your grip tightens around the bar, steadying yourself as Suguru lifts you by your ass before pulling you back down on him, so slowly. “Fuuuck–” he groans. He thrusts into you at a leisurely pace, slow and controlled, giving you time to adjust to his size.

But his kisses…they’re rough. Such a contrast to the way he’s fucking you right now. The pleasure is overwhelming to Suguru, and when your tongue slips into his mouth, it’s him that’s whimpering now, thrusting just a little faster, a little harder.

“Damn, you take my cock so good, pretty girl–” he growls into your mouth. “Love the way you ride me.” He smacks your ass hard, eyes falling to your breast, bouncing up and down with the rhythm of his thrusts. He takes one into his mouth, greedily lapping at your nipple, nipping and sucking and loving the way your cries get louder.

“Oh my god, fuck!”

“Ride my cock, pretty. You already do it so good. Wanna see you ride me.” Suguru groans. He releases his hold on you, hands coming up to play with your breasts while you bounce wildly on his dick. He lifts your dress, relishing the view of his length, glistening with your slick, vanishes into your tight cunt over and over. “Shiiiitttt…”

You slip a hand into his tresses, pulling hard and forcing him away from your nipples. You pull so hard Suguru has to close his eyes because the sensation sends goosebumps igniting across his body. That, combined with the way you keep taking him to the tip before slamming down on his cock repeatedly. Fuck, you’re a quick learner.

Your pussy is what it feels like every single time he pulls off a heist successfully. Like fucking heaven. And he never wants to leave it.

His eyes flutter open, just enough to see your breasts bouncing with every rise and fall of your hips. Your velvety walls hug him tight, so fucking good, Suguru thinks he'd like to be able to have you all the time. Hell, he has half a mind to take you with him once they’re off this damned train. Being able to have you like this any time he wants, watch your body come undone under him, on top of him, in any position you’ll let him have you. He’d even give up this outlaw life if you wanted him to. Settle down, start a family if that’s what you wanted. The thought of it makes Suguru more excited than he’ll ever admit.

Each time your pussy sucks him back in, begging for him to cum, he can suddenly picture a life outside of this. Each time those sexy little noises fall from your sweet lips, he can suddenly envision raising a family with you, building himself a life where he's able to hear those sounds any time he desires.

He lets his mind drift to these fantasies while he can, enjoying the feeling of you and the sounds you gift him with.

There's a fire pooling in his belly, growing hotter each time his balls meet your ass. He's gonna blow his load here any second. And he can't wait. He wants to cum inside your walls, wants to thrust himself so deep into you that there's no way you're not carrying his child when he's done. Least you'll have something to remember him by if you tell him you don’t want shit to do with him after this. A sweet woman like you with a wanted felon? Of course you’d prefer to get your rocks off while you can and move on. Which is fine.

Because Suguru is gonna remember you, anyway. He’ll remember the way you squeeze around him, the way you moan the little nickname you’ve given him, the way your cunt feels fucking unlike any other woman’s. You’ve got him mesmerized.

So much so, that he doesn't even notice the cool press of steel against the center of his forehead.

“Ohhh,” you moan, whimpering, “Please…please…will you put a baby inside me, outlaw?”

It’s like you read his mind, and Suguru’s eyes snap open, balls tightening as his release threatens to come at any moment. But then his eyes see the stiffness in your arm, see the glimmer of metal as the sunlight reflects off it through the windows, and he finally realizes you've got his gun to his head, and maybe that’s actually why his balls are tightening. You’ve got this wicked grin on your flushed face as you keep riding him. Hard, fast, walls squeezing him in a vice grip. And he can't do shit but let his eyes roll to the back of his head, let his pleasure race straight down his spine and into his balls as his release shoots from his cock before he has a chance to get ahold of himself.

But you don’t let him get a drop inside, lifting yourself smoothly off his lap just as fat, hot streams of cum land messily in his lap and on his stomach. Suguru’s gasping for air, still struggling to figure out what the fuck is going on. And you don’t give him a second to catch his breath, to let his mind catch up before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock again, squeezing and stroking his length until he’s so overstimulated his jaw is cramping up from how hard he’s gritting his teeth to keep from crying out.

“What the fuck are you ahhh–” you run your thumb over his leaking tip, your eyes alight with joy when his hips buck up automatically, legs trembling as you keep pumping him, though his balls are beyond empty.

You tsk, shaking your head as you press the barrel of the gun harder against his skin. “Where’s that sweet outlaw from before?” You drawl.

Your voice has changed. No longer soft spoken, shy and sweet. The hardness of your tone tells Suguru all he needs to know. The memories come flooding back. And now he realizes why you looked so familiar when he first laid eyes on you.

Your face has been plastered on wanted posters in damn near every town he and his partners have stopped in. Murder, robbery, drunkenness, prison escape, cheating at cards. All the crimes that should have you in the town square hanging, you’re wanted for. Somehow, you’ve managed to never get caught.

How could he have let his guard down? How could he have fucked up this badly?

‘Thinking with your dick. That’s how.’

“Guess it takes an outlaw to know one,” He grits out, nostrils flared with fury. He can only hope his crew comes through those doors soon, though it’ll be fucking humiliating to be caught in this position.

A giggle spills from your lips and the sound makes Suguru sick to his stomach. You don’t even sound like the same person from before. “Y’all are pretty easy to spot. ‘Specially when all y’all think with your cocks–” You echo his thoughts, emphasizing the word by squeezing Suguru’s slowly softening length in your hand. You frown, releasing your hold on him. “Huh, thought you’d be able to gimme another one.”

He inhales deeply, shakily, narrowing his eyes at the woman – the stranger – that stands before him. “Everything you said was a lie, then.”

It’s not a question. He knows. Because you’re just like him. Maybe even worse.

Laughter bursts from deep within, like what he said was the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “It really is easy to fool y’all men. Just gotta make our pussies feel reallllll tight and wet and y’all don’t question nothin’.”

You climb off of the seat, taking the gun off his head while you fix your undergarments, unbothered and careless. And Suguru decides to act fast, takes this moment to lunge for you. But he doesn’t make it far, because his head is yanked back roughly the moment he jumps forward. His scalp burns, and he reaches back, feeling a thick knot tied around the metal bar that sits atop the train seats. The same metal bar you were just holding onto moments ago.

“You fuckin’ tied my hair to the seat?!” He growls.

And you chuckle, shifting your dress around until you’re decent again. The gun is pointed back at Suguru’s face, and he puts his hands back down, not daring to try and free himself when you’ve got a revolver ready to blow his brains out.

“And your hands are next,” you promise in a sing-song voice. You keep your word, spinning around briefly to reach between the wall and your original seat, where you’d apparently hidden a small rope. You make quick work of tying Suguru’s hands behind his back, leaning a little too close to him as you finish the knot.

He can feel your breaths against his neck, and right now, if he’s being honest with himself – which he may as well be since he could very well be dead soon – it’s confusing him. Because he feels like he fucking hates you, is repulsed by you, could spit in your face right now. Oh, he really fucking wants to. But something tells him you’d like that anyway. And the thought of your face, depraved and covered in his saliva is making his still exposed length hard again. Even when you tug harshly on the rope for good measure, chuckling low in Suguru’s ear when you hear him hiss in pain, his cock stiffens further.

And of course you notice, your eyes glancing down to his lap, where the sticky mess you left him with lies. “Sure you don’t wanna go again?” You tease, laughing when Suguru scowls.

You like him upset, and probably a little pathetic, because you press your lips to his pout, kissing him hungrily. And apparently, Suguru is as pathetic as he looks, because – and it’s a surprise to him, too – he kisses you back! Your tongues tangle during this brief meeting of your lips, fighting for dominance, though it’s apparent who’s the one in control here.

The filthy moans between you are interrupted when Suguru feels that damned gun under his chin now, applying enough pressure to push him back. Only a line of your mixed saliva connects you two as you stare down at him in amusement.

“Like I said…” you peer down quickly at Suguru’s lap before whispering. “Aaaalways thinkin’ with your cock.” You step back, pointing the gun at him once again.

“What do ya want?” He asks, pulling at his restraints to no avail. He’d love nothing more than to wipe that cocky smile off your face and flip the tables on you, but it’s not looking good for him.

“What I want…” You wiggle the gun in his face, tauntingly. “...is already mine, outlaw.” There’s humor in your tone, and your body language is relaxed. You couldn’t see Suguru as less of a threat if you tried.

You piss him off.

And make him so fucking hard.

He’s confused!

The noise of the doors to the train cabin opening can be heard and Suguru grins. You’re fucked now. Larue is going to put a bullet between your eyes and sure, Suguru’ll be sad about it. But better you than him. You were a great fuck, he’ll admit. And yes, he entertained the idea of giving you a kid or two, maybe getting a little cabin out in the prairie. But that fantasy’s as dead as you’re about to be. Sad that he won’t be–

“The guy with the nipples and the girl have been taken care of, boss!” A chipper voice sings.

That…is not Larue.

Suguru couldn’t turn his head if he tried, courtesy of this goddamn knot, but he can see the smirk on your face as you nod. “Great work, Hime. And the goods?”

“Already on the move with the others. Just gotta get on the horses when you’re ready.”

You turn your head, staring out the window and nodding again. Out of his peripheral, Suguru can just barely make out the form of two horses, racing alongside the train and he knows he’s screwed.

You sigh, shrugging while feigning sadness as you pout. “Well, outlaw…looks like this is the end of the line.”

Suguru tugs at his ropes again, struggling against the holds. “You gonna leave me here like this?” He gestures with his chin at his…situation. You must be forgetting his entire dick is out for the world to see. And that you’ve tied his hands up. Not to mention his fucking hair! If he has to cut his hair because of this…

You hum, like you’re actually giving deep thought to his question. You’re not.

“Yeah, actually. Think I am.” You lift your dress, not even pretending to be as innocent as you presented yourself to be when Suguru first laid eyes on you. You tuck his gun into the waistband of your undergarments, patting it affectionately. “Thanks for a grand ol’ time, outlaw. If you manage to survive this, we can do it again.”

You shoot him a wink before you lean over him, leaving him with one final kiss on the lips. It’s gentle this time, soft, save for a light nip to his bottom lip that embarrassingly enough, manages to arouse Suguru yet again.

“At least tell me your name,” Suguru grits out through heavy breaths. “So I can be sure to repay the favor.”

It’s a threat, but you don’t take it as one. You simply smile. It’s warm, almost reminiscent of the woman he met just earlier. The woman he thought you were. But that look is gone as soon as it appeared. You pat his face gently, reaching across the seat to grab his hat that he had set aside when he’d first sat down. You sit it atop your head, wearing it like some sort of crown, and without another word, you leave.

The train cars open, the roaring rush of the wind filling the space for just a moment before they’re shut again, and Suguru is left with nothing but his thoughts and his dick literally out. He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes to calm his racing heart and honestly to stifle the pain of his untouched erection.

This has been the wildest ride of his life. Definitely the worst heist he’s ever done. And if he does survive this, does manage to somehow talk his way out of charges and prison time, he’s going to find you. Fuck the robberies. Fuck the brothels. Fuck gambling and drinking all day. Yeah, if he manages to survive this, he will make it his life’s mission to find you again.

Because even after all is said and done, Suguru thinks he might fucking love you.

2K notes · View notes

cheriedivine · 2 months ago

Text

Deeply still in love

♡‧₊˚₊✧ pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem reader (No use of y/n)

♡‧₊˚₊✧ summary: Ellie Williams doesn’t do feelings. She buries them under alcohol, weed and strangers lips, but the moment she hears your voice again, everything she’s shoved down, claws its way back up.

♡‧₊˚₊✧ CW: References to substance abuse (weed, alcohol), Mild suggestive themes, Unrequited love, Swearing, emotional themes. (Lmk if i missed anything!)

♡‧₊˚₊✧ Tags: Angst/heartbreak, Ellies is a fuck boy, just pain tbh

♡‧₊˚₊✧ Author’s note: ok so this is my first time ever writing something for Ellie and it’s heavily based on Role Model’s song Deeply still in love bc i fucking love that song and I thought it would be a good angsty emotional one shot so yeah… hope u guys enjoy it and english is not my first language so excuse any grammar mistakes oki luv yall bye.

♡‧₊˚₊✧ WC: 3.6K

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

“I think i still love you, deep down i know i never stopped loving you-“ Ellie scratched it out, watching the ink dry down on the page in her journal, the words of what she just wrote frozen on her mind, her breath was shallow, like she was afraid the air would judge her for it. She crossed the sentence out, one, two, three times until the paper on her journal ripped.

“Jesus Ellie, you might wanna breathe before your face starts turning purple- what’s up with that?”

Jesse interrupted her thoughts as he looked down at Ellie’s previously destroyed journal page, placing the two cups of coffee down at the table, the coffee shop they were at was cozy but drowned in people, making Ellie’s thoughts quieted down a bit as she closed the journal on her lap and took the hot cup of coffee “it’s nothing just… thoughts” she said while taking a sip of her coffee, the bitter taste burning her tongue

“Yeah well it looked like you were about to collapse or die” He flopped into the chair across from hers with a furrowed expression, “Anyway, maybe you should take your thinking somewhere else tonight and come with me and Dina to this party tonight” The black haired boy suggested, but Ellie wasn’t paying him much attention until she heard him clicking his fingers in front of her face “Hello earth to Ellie? Did you hear anything I said?” Ellie rolled her eyes, but if she was being honest her mind was wandering somewhere else, or on someone else “Sorry man im just not here today, what’s going on?” Jesse huffed getting annoyed by the girl’s lack of attention “You. Me. Dina. Party. Tonight?” He took the cup of coffee up to his mouth awaiting his friend’s response.

Ellie didn’t answer right away, tracing her finger on the rim of her cup, eyes fixed on the steam coming out of it like smoke signals no one else could read.

“Is ‘you know who’ going to be there?” the auburn haired girl finally responded, afraid but curious of what his response might be, her stomach twirled at the thought of you being there.

“Dude its been more than six months,” Jesse said with a tired tone. “You’ve hooked up with like three different girls since then, I thought you were over it”.

Ellie let out a short breath, bitter, like the coffee on her hands.

Over it.

Yeah sure. It’s been 8 months exactly since you broke up with Ellie, you didn’t exactly end up on bad terms, but it was like something was ripped off from her, a part of her was still waiting for you to come back, but how could she blame you for not to?. It was always like this, Ellie shut down when things got too real, she bottled up all these emotions and when the weight of it caught up to her it became too heavy to carry. You kept reaching for anything, like screaming to a wall, while she just kept pulling away, slowly and painfully. It wasn’t because she didn’t care, but because she cared too much. And that scared the shit out of her.

She hated talking about her feelings, she hated the vulnerability of it, the rawness, she hated being seen too clearly. But you- you saw her like no one else ever had, you saw her through like a window on a road trip, never scared of the road, never afraid of where it might take you, but she shut you down over and over, until you got tired of knocking on a door that would never fully open.

Ellie never blamed you for leaving, the look on your eye when the words slipped of your lips when you called it off still haunted her on her dreams till this day “I love you Ellie, but i can’t be the only one bleeding for us”

She just stood there, breathing through her nose, her heart pounding like a drum, she felt like it might rip out of her chest, and maybe it did because her words got caught up in her throat and tears started brewing in her emerald eyes when you left without slamming the door, that’s how she knew she really fucked up, that this was real, and you and her were done.

So yeah 8 painfully slow months have passed since that, and even though Ellie kissed strangers in bars, she closed her eyes with your name stuck behind teeth, going through bodies like maybe she could fit into a different pair of arms that could be warm enough to forget your face, your lips or the way your eyes would light up when you kissed her, but no stranger could ever replace that, replace you. It always came back to you. It didn’t matter how many mouths she kissed or how many bodies she explored, coming back to a cold bed made the emptiness crawl back like an old friend, and only made your absence more painful. But still she kept doing it, as if it were a miracle move-on-drug.

Ellie blinked out of the memory, the cup in her hands cold and long forgotten, she placed it back on the table before answering to her friend.

“Whatever man just text me the address and I might consider it” She thought the party wasn’t such a bad idea, she could have a couple drinks and hook up with some stranger she just met like she has been doing for the past months.

Jesse raised a brow, not buying into her sudden shift of tone. “That didn’t sound like a ‘fuck yeah I’m down for a party’. It sounded more like you’re planning to drink cheap booze until you forget your name and make out with someone you won’t remember the next day.”

The girl shrugged, “So what, none of your goddamn business”

Jesse stared at her for a second, like he wanted to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them right up and sighed leaning back in his chair. “you do you, Ellie. Just… stop pretending it's helping.”

That definitely hit a nerve, but Ellie didn't flinch, nor said anything. He continued, a little softer this time, like a secret apology. “I'll text you the address. You don't have to come, but maybe you should. Think about it.”

With that the boy stood up grabbing his empty cup and left the coffee shop. An awkward silence filled the room, Ellie’s jaw tightened, at the end he was right, having sex with strangers wasnt exactly therapy but it got her through… in some fucked up way. Was it wrong? Maybe, Ellie never texted back any girl ever and just ghosted when she got what she needed. Toss and turn.

Later that day Ellie texted Jesse, briefly apologizing for being a dick to which he responded “When aren't you?.” Asshole. He sent her the address and by 9:30 Ellie was getting ready to leave. She stood in front of the mirror, jaw working as she tugged the black tank top over her head, the hem settling just above the waistband of her old patched up jeans, nothing very special- she didn't do special- hesitating on putting on a jacket or no, Jackson weather you never know. Her eyes lingered on her reflection for a little too long. The tank clung to her body in a familiar way. Safe. The jeans were her most reliable ones, just like her old converse she’d laced up so many times they were practically molded to her.

“Not a big deal, just another stupid party.” She ran her hands through her shaggy hair and decided she won’t put that much effort into it, bars are often dark so who cares- certainly not her. She took one last glance at the mirror before putting on Joel's old jacket and walking through the door of her apartment. The familiar weight of the jacket calmed her nerves a bit but not as much as the blunt in her fingers, she had stocked a few days ago, and a little pre game never fails to calm her down so she lit it up while waiting for Jesse and Dina to pull up the driveway. Jesse had offered to drive her to the party alongside Dina, even though Ellie had her own truck (an old ford truck inherited from Joel) he said it would be better if he was the assigned driver if they got a little too tipsy.

She often wondered how those too could stand each other for so long, when Ellie met Jesse at College he was already dating Dina and it’s been 4 years since then. They weren’t the perfect couple but surely knew how to get on each other's nerves, still always figured it out at the end. Ellie admired them for that and wished she was a little more like them.

Soon her thoughts dissolved into the crisp air of the night when Jesse pulled up on the driveway, he honked the horn as if the blinding lights didn't catch Ellie’s attention enough, “You are such an attention whore.” Ellie said, flicking the blunt away and stuffing her hands deep into the jacket pockets before entering the car.

The drive to the party was loud- music blasting, windows cracked, a new blunt being passed around like part of the ritual (courtesy of Ellie of course). It was their usual pregame, the kind that made her forget, even if just for a moment. With her friends, it was easy to laugh, to lean into the chaos and pretend the weight in her chest wasn’t still there. These were the moments that reminded Ellie not everything was awful. But the rush- the high, always felt like the drop of a roller coaster. And when Jesse finally parked the car, reality hit. Another night of pretending. Pretending nothing mattered, pretending the burn inside her wasn’t still there, quietly eating her alive.

“Don’t forget to rate me 5 stars and leave a tip” Jesse said jokingly, distracting Ellie from her self destructive thoughts”

Dina was the first one to enter the bar, the music almost deafening, the track was some popular song Ellie heard at the radio before, she didn't like it, but also didn’t exactly hate it. The place was packed as it usually is every Friday night, overflowing with bodies, laughter layering the loud music, and some good ol’ bar fight probably. Ellie trailed behind Jesse and Dina, already feeling the buzz fade into something heavier. She slipped her hands back into Joel’s jacket, like it would shield her from everything the weed could not.

They found a booth near the back, where the speakers didn’t rattle your bones quite as much. Dina, being the social butterfly she is, immediately recognized someone across the room, an old college classmate, but for Ellie it was one of those people who always remembers your face but not your name. Seconds later Jesse slid into the booth, scanning the bar like a minefield.

“Shot first, existential crisis later?” he offered, holding up two fingers to the bartender across the room.

Ellie nodded, managing a half-smile. “Make it three.”

As the night went on (and so did the shots) Ellie was sitting alone in the booth, Dina and Jesse long gone, probably dancing or making out somewhere in the dark, Ellie decided it was probably time for a smoke, to calm the headache she was starting to feel. She grabbed her jacket from her seat and made a beeline to the exit, the chill breeze of Jackson hitting her face like a slap she probably deserved.

Leaning against the crumbling brick wall outside the bar, the noise from inside was muffled out there. She pulled the blunt from her pocket, already half-rolled from earlier, and lit it with a practiced flick of her lighter, the smoke greeted her lungs like an old friend, welcoming the burn in her throat, grounding her a little as she exhaled through her nose. She took a second hit leaning her head against the wall, watching the people coming in and out of the bar, people watching was Ellie’s favorite activity while smoking, also because she could use it as an opportunity to check girls out, but that's when she saw you.

At least—she thought she did.

You were slipping through the bar’s entrance, swallowed up by a crowd of loud, laughing strangers. Just a flash of your face, the way your hair moved, throwing your head back laughing like someone who wasn’t her told the funniest joke of the world. Ellie blinked. Hard.

“No fucking way.” She cursed under her breath, squinting her eyes trying to steady herself. Was it the mix of weed and cheap alcohol in her system playing fucked up mind tricks on her? Either way, it didn't matter because she was already walking towards the crowd of people, like some magnetic force was pulling her in.

She pushed past two guys arguing about the cover charge. Her heart was thudding now—not like excitement. More like panic.

Inside, the lights hit her all wrong, too sharp, too bright. The music pulsed against her ribs. She scanned the crowd, pushing through, zeroing in on the back of that girl’s head.

Same jacket. Same posture. Same everything.

“Hey—” she started, grabbing the mysterious woman by the arm but when the girl turned around, it wasn’t you.

Of course it wasn’t you.

Her grip softened and she let go, the girl glared at her confused, and now Ellie could see, could really see that her eyes weren’t the same color as yours, her smile wasn’t as bright and welcoming as yours. And the worst part it’s not that she made a fool of herself, but that the girl was looking at her like she was a complete stranger. Which she was but to Ellie’s brain it just felt like she got hit by a thousand trains.

The brunette stepped back, the weight in her chest doubling. Her hands were shaking a little now, or maybe they always had been. She didn’t say anything. Just turned and pushed her way back outside.Too embarrassed to even apologize.

She felt like throwing up.

She found an empty corner right next to the bar, hunched over with her hands on her knees, breath coming sharp and uneven, gasping for air like she just ran a marathon. Her heart slammed heavily on her chest.

The cold didn’t even bother her this time. Her shaky hands reaching for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, Her mind was fogged over, drifting somewhere else entirely. It was like she was watching herself from outside her own body.she didn’t know what she was doing just moving, automatic, like muscle memory took over, her fingers were clicking and swiping and then suddenly—

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end was soft, confused.

Her head snapped up. She blinked at the screen in her hand.

Call in progress — You.

A beat of silence passed before she even realized what she’d done. Her breath hitched.

“…Shit.”

Your voice. Caught between sleepy and annoyed.

“Who’s this? Do you have any idea how late it is?”

Ellie’s breath hitched. For a second, she considered hanging up. Throwing the phone into the street. Pretending this never happened. But she wasn’t running this time.

“…It’s me.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Ellie.”

Silence. The kind that says everything and nothing at once.

“Ellie?”

Your voice softened. Then came the question she knew was coming—

“What– Why are you calling?”

She looked down at her converse, swallowing hard.

“I– I don't know I wasn't planning to, I'm just–” She tried to laugh it off. She couldn't believe this was happening.

“Are you drunk?” Your tone firm and dry

“I’m sorry i shouldn't have called , i dont know what the fuck im doing ok? I literally just called someone else your name. Just now.”

A shaky breath.

“Stupid, right?”

You didn't say anything, Ellies fingers tightened around the phone and your silence was enough to keep her bleeding. She was surprised that you hadn't hung up on her yet.

So Ellie kept talking.

“And I… I thought maybe if I just shoved it deep enough, it’d go away. Y’know? This—this fucking feeling. This ache that’s been stuck in me since you left. And I keep trying to bury it, like if I fake it hard enough, maybe it’ll stop hurting but it doesn’t. None of it works. Everything feels so…pointless. Like it doesn’t mean anything because… because there’s no you anymore.”

She breathes in sharp—like it physically hurts to say the next part.

“And burying it doesn’t fix shit. ‘Cause I still—”

A pause, her voice breaking on the edge. She didn't even realize tears had fallen down her freckled face. Savouring the salty drops as she opened her mouth.

“I still love you.”

There it was. She said it and she couldn't take it back anymore. It was real, and you were silent. Just like she had been when you were begging her to say something back then. Funny how life goes huh?

Silence. Again. you were completely frozen like you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. But your thoughts vanished when a female voice called you up.

“Who is it babe?”

Babe.

Ellie froze. Her stomach twisted, breath catching like it forgot how to move.

Babe.

You didn’t answer the girl right away. But you didn’t deny it, either.

Ellie bit her cheek until she tasted blood. The universe was getting a big fucking laugh out from her. There was a long pause. Too long.

You didn’t mean to let it stretch, but your breath caught somewhere in your throat, and the words wouldn’t come out right.

When you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“…Ellie.”

She didn’t say anything. You could hear her breathing—shaky, uneven, like she was crying?

“You can’t say things like that. Not now.”

You sounded softer than you meant to. Not angry. Just… broken.

“It’s not fair.”

Another pause. You swallowed hard.

“I have to go– I'm sorry, you should go home and sober up and just forget about it ok? That this phone call ever happened at all.”

You hesitated, like your heart was trying to claw its way out of your throat.

“Please.”

It came out barely audible. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

A silence lingered between you, thick with everything neither of you were saying.

“You don’t get to do this now, Ellie. Not after all the times I waited for you to mean it.”

Your voice cracked.

And before Ellie could speak—before she could take it back, or say she was sorry again—

“Goodbye Ellie”

You hung up. The line went dead.

She backed into the wall behind her sliding down until she was sitting on the cold concrete, knees pulled in tight, Joel’s jacket wrapped around her like it might protect her from this ache.

But it didn’t.

She let her head fall forward, resting it on her arms. The tears came slowly at first, stubborn like her. But once they started, they didn’t stop. Silent, messy, no control. Her shoulders shook, her breath catching in her throat like she couldn’t even cry right.

“Fuck this” She muttered.

You didn’t say you didn’t love her.

You said it was too late.

Somehow, that hurt worse.

The words echoed in her skull. She let out a choked laugh—bitter and hollow. She hated how much it still mattered. Hated that she called you. Hated herself for waiting this long to say it, for saying it now, when it meant nothing anymore.

She sat there until her fingers went numb, until the night felt like it was swallowing her whole.

Her phone kept ringing like crazy, probably a worried Dina or a very upset Jesse at the end of the line. She ignored it, because it wasn't you.

Eventually, she stood—slow, unsteady, like her body was made of glass. Her jacket hung heavy on her shoulders, soaked in the scent of cheap beer, smoke, and everything she didn’t want to feel. She made her way back inside of the bar, reckless and hurt, in search of a body that could keep her warm tonight, someone to blur the edges, to drown out the echo of your voice still ringing in her head.

Maybe, just for a second, it would feel like she wasn’t completely alone.

The music hit her like a wave—loud, chaotic, the kind of beat that made it easy to forget. She didn’t care who was watching, or that her eyes were red and her face puffy. She moved through the crowd like a ghost with a drink in hand, brushing past strangers until she locked eyes with someone—pretty, familiar enough, not you.

Never you.

“Hey,” she said, voice low and rough. “Buy you a drink?”

The girl smiled, said something back—Ellie didn’t really hear it.

Didn’t matter.

She just needed something to ease the pain.

Even if it was empty.

Even if it was fake.

Even if it hurt worse in the morning.

She leaned in, chasing a flame that would burn out, pretending it didn’t sting when it wasn’t your hands she felt.

Pretending she didn’t just shatter a little more when the girl kissed her and all she could think was—

You.

It was still you.

Always you.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧───

hope u guys liked it and lmk whatchu think, i’m open to suggestions and if u have any requests don’t hesitate to hmu <3!!!

#ellie willams x reader #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams #ellie tlou 2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie angst #ellie the last of us #tlou ellie #ellie willams smut #ellie tlou #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #ellie fanfic

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pencil-n-pen · 4 months ago

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EYE TO EYE, THIGH TO THIGH

. ۫ ꣑ৎ .

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rafe x fem! black cat! pogue! reader

previous part | masterlist | kofi

this is a sequel but it can be read as a standalone!!

summary: you’ve done it. you’re actually dating the Rafe Cameron. He’s everything you didn’t think he’d be. So maybe you’re a tiny, little bit in love with him.

cw: honestly not much considering this is a rafe fic, relationship insecurity, references to past bad relationships i guess? rafe is rafe and reader is reader :P

tags/tropes: Rafe spoiling reader bc i feel like we didn’t get enough in the last fic, relationship insecurity, fluff, reader is secretly shy and has so much anxiety she just hides it by being a bitch (me too girl) reader feeling safe enough with Rafe to be soft, squishy, shy, and girly-girl <3

a/n: okay so yall at that last fic up i am surprised i will admit. also guys pls appreciate the fact that the color scheme for the first fic was blue and now it’s pink. also fairy warning, the tone of this fic is way different than the first one, we’re highlighting reader’s insecurities so she’s not as maneater-black cat. Rafe is showing her she doesn’t have to be all of that with him :) He loves spoiling his girl <3

title taken from Little Bit by Lykke Li —the original, not the remix— aka the sequel’s anthem. i highly suggest giving it a listen (especially while reading !!)

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݁˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

Despite projecting confidence and arrogance, you don’t actually know that much about relationships. It’s easy to act like you know better when you know better, and for the most part, you do.

After that fake relationship fiasco, you had to be painfully honest with yourself about what you would and wouldn’t tolerate in a future relationship, if you ever were to get in one.

And now you are in one with the least likely person you ever thought you’d start dating, and well. You kind of feel like you’re bracing for pain that —hopefully— won’t come.

You’ve upheld a strong belief that all relationships are terrible to some extent. The bickering, the clinginess, the cheating. Lack of chemistry. Lack of physical attraction.

None of these things are present in your relationship with Rafe. Except the bickering, but it’s not real fighting. Rafe just enjoys riling you up so he can kiss you senseless after. It’s a hobby of his.

Your first and only real argument thus far was about your house.

“My dad is a real estate developer,” He’d said, jaw tight. “And your house is the size of a fuckin’ postage stamp. Just let me fix it.”

“Rafe, that kind of renovation and repair costs thousands of dollars. Not hundreds, thousands. I can’t be indebted to your family like that.”

Rafe had just groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, baby, you need to get this through that thick fucking skull of yours, but we’re rich. Filthy. Fucking. Rich.”

He’s enunciated the last three words, practically spitting them.

“And you’re my girl. I am your boyfriend. I’m your provider. I take care of you. That’s my job. Can you let me do my job? Can you afford the repairs? Look at me in my eyes and tell me your job at that cafe is going to pay for the renovations.”

“…”

“That’s what I thought. Look, it’s a win for everybody. You get your house repaired for free, and my dad gets to boost his public image. He’s always stressing about that.”

It was hard to complain about things while you were staying in their mansion during the repairs —which, shockingly, didn’t take long. You suppose your house is pretty small and the damage wasn’t that bad.

Your stomach churns with guilt every time you think about all the money that it cost to have the work done. Money you didn’t pay.

It keeps you up at night, a constant, disgraceful, litany.

Money money money money money money money money money money money money money—

So you finally decide to approach Rafe about it.

He’s seated at his desk, headphones on, playing some game with Topper and Kelce.

You peer over his shoulder, trying to figure out if this is a game he can pause or not.

You should wait then, he’s busy, and like, he’s going to think it’s stupid. Actually, maybe you shouldn’t ask him at all—

“I can hear you lingering back there. Do you need something, baby?”

“You can’t hear me,” You grumble, stepping forward so you’re lingering next to him, instead of behind. “I don’t need anything. Just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Ooooooooo!” Topper and Kelce both coo, their voices tinny and barely audible through Rafe’s headphones.

“Shut up, both of you,” You say, leaning down to rhe microphone on the side of Rafe’s headphones, “Neither of you have girlfriends.”

“Yeah,” Rafe chuckles, “The bitchless don’t get to say anything.”

“Rafe, don’t call girls bitches.”

“But you call girls bitches.”

“That’s because I am a girl. And a bitch.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re not supposed to understand it.”

He shakes his head then pushes his headphones partway off his head. “What’d you need to talk about? Something important?”

You shake your head. “It can wait.”

He frowns, muttering out a quick “bye assholes,” To Topper and Kelce before clicking out of his game and taking his headphones off.

He spins in his chair, facing you. “How’s it work that you call me a dickhead without shame but can’t tell me when something’s wrong?”

You shrug. “Cause sometimes you’re being a dickhead.”

“And the other part?”

A slight, embarrassed flush begins to creep up your neck. “I don’t know.”

“Mmm,” He hums, clearly dissatisfied. “What did you want to talk about?”

You steel yourself.

“I don’t want you spending so much money on me anymore.”

“Absolutely not.”

His words are firm and resolute, leaving absolutely no room for argument.

It’s a good thing you were graced with the ability to make room for an argument. Runs in your family.

“Rafe,” You start, crossing your arms- to which he immediately rolls his eyes with a groan, “I’m serious. You gotta stop. It’s too much.”

“It’s not.”

“It is! It keeps me up at night, worrying about all the money I owe you—“

He drags a hand down his face. “I’m going to stop you right there, because you’re being stupid again. You don’t owe me anything. Why do I spend money on you, baby?”

“Because… you have poor spending habits?”

He rolls his eyes again, reaching forward to grab your hands in his, tugging you forward. “I spend money on you because I like to.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You’re not supposed to understand it,” He says, parroting your earlier words back at you. “Seriously. There’s no way in hell I’m going to stop spending money on you.”

You sigh, and he squeezes your hands consoling.

“I know, I know. Must be so hard having an unlimited budget and a hot boyfriend.”

“Shut up.”

He pulls you down for a kiss, something gentler than usual. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

Despite what he said, your guilt prevails. Then, it sticks its greedy little fingers into your brain and takes root, and suddenly you’re thinking about all the other ways Rafe spoils you. And surely it can’t last, right?

It’s a little twinge when he picks you up from work. (it’s not that far from his house, but multiple trips is a lot of gas, and gas isn’t cheap and that’s more money—)

It’s a prickle on the back of your neck when he insists you borrow his clothes or use his shower. (Luxuries, because his clothes are so much better made than your own and imagine the water bill with another person using the shower—)

And sometimes —it sounds stupid but you can’t help it— he’s just too hot. You just look at him- at the set of his jaw and the curve of his cheekbones and the rippling muscle of his bicep and how he fucking smells, and you just can’t seriously believe that he’s yours. (He always says he’s your boyfriend with such emphasis on the word yours. Like he belongs to you, not the other way around.)

You hate it, because really, you need to enjoy what you have, because it’s what practically every girl dreams of having, but the fear, the guilt— it’s invasive. A little parasite that eats away at your confidence. Makes you feel just a little sick, all the time.

“Alright,” Rafe says one day, pulling you aside into the travel section of Barnes and Nobles —the most secluded, because who even uses the travel section anymore?— and leveling you with a look. “You need to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wro—“

“Don’t give me that shit,” His voice lowers, “We’ve been in here for nearly thirty minutes, and you haven’t picked out one book. You haven’t even looked at one. For you, that’s like the apocalypse. What’s wrong?”

You freeze, panicked. “I think we should break up.”

“No.”

“Wha— You can’t just say no.”

The muscle in his jaw jumps. “Yes I can, because that isn’t the issue.”

“Yes it is, this isn’t working out—“

“Yes it is.”

“Are you just going to refute everything I say?” You hiss.

“I am because you’re lying, right to my face.”

He leans down so you’re face to face. “I’m gonna ask one last time. What’s. Wrong.”

“I don’t know!” You explode, whisper shouting. “I don’t know, Rafe. I don’t know if something’s wrong with me, or if we’re not compatible or what. I just…”

You sigh, slumping. “I feel so guilty, all the time. For all the money you spend on me, and all the stuff you do for me. I feel like a bad girlfriend, and I feel like you don’t think I can take care of myself.”

He leans back against a bookshelf. “So when I spoil you, the thing that’s my job as a boyfriend, you feel guilty?”

“Yes.”

“And you think I’m doing this because I don’t think you can take care of yourself?”

“Yes? I don’t know.”

He gazes at you for a beat, eyes flicking over your form.

“If you would just tell me the name of that guy—“

“No. You would actually kill him.”

“He’d deserve it.”

“Not the point here, Ray.”

“Kind of is,” He mumbles, turning his head.

You’re both silent for a few moments, and you’re sure you’ve gone and ruined things when he speaks again.

“Tell me what you need.”

Your shoulders hike up to your ears. “I don’t know what—“

“Yes you do,” His eyes are half-lidded as he looks down at you. “Tell me what you need. Use your words.”

Your skin feels hot and flushed.

“You’re not going to like it.”

He sighs. “You get all up in your fuckin’ head about stuff and you never stop to ask if I even care.”

“You—“

“I’m obsessed with you. I will always give you whatever you want, every time you ask, whenever you ask. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“No. I want to hear you say it.”

“I understand.”

“You understand what?”

“That you’re obsessed with me, and you’ll always give me whatever I want, every time I ask, whenever I ask.”

He hums, satisfied. “Good girl. Now tell me what you need.”

“Reassurance,” You breathe, a rush of words and air. “It’s stupid, because—“

“Don’t start with your independent woman bullshit.”

You frown, but continue. “I just don’t want to be overbearing.”

He snorts. “I don’t think you could be overbearing if you tried. You hardly ask for anything. Crank it up, baby.”

You groan, stepping forward into his awaiting arms and smashing your face into his chest. “But that’s exhausting.”

He wraps his arms around you, slowly rocking you side to side. “And doing everything yourself isn’t?”

“Different kind of exhausting.”

“Mm. I see.”

You pull away, peering up at him through your lashes. “Are you really obsessed with me?”

His lips twitch. “Is that all you got from that conversation?”

“It was the only important part.”

He leans down and plants a kiss on your nose. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who hasnt noticed.”

He tugs on your hand, leading you back through the store and letting you wander through your favorite sections, this time stopping to actually look at things. Every time you step away without handing it to him he pushes you back, giving you a stern look.

“I don’t want to get the whole store, Rafe.”

“You could.”

“You’re not helping.”

With effort, you manage to thin the stack to the ones you actually want, not just everything you’re interested in. Rafe gives a huff but allows you to put some of the books back, but only under the promise that you’re not doing it because “you’re being stupid again.”

When you get back to the car, small stack of books in your lap, you decide to give the whole ‘asking for things’ a go.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Are you upset with me?”

The rumble of the engine starting reverberates through the car. “No.”

“Are you annoyed with me?”

“Hold onto your books, I’m turning. No.”

“Are you planning on being upset with me anytime soon?”

He squints at you. “Is this going to take long?”

“Depends on your answer.”

“No.”

“No to what?”

“Your dumbass question.”

“It’s not a dumbass question.”

“Yes it is. Who the fuck plans to be upset with someone?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“You’re so lucky I’m obsessed with you.”

—

“Rafe?”

“Hmm?”

You’re sitting on his bed, legs crossed with his head pillowed on your thigh, arms wrapped around your waist. It’s a warm evening- his bedroom window is cracked open and the salty breeze wafts through the room, pleasantly cool air coming with it. You’re wearing a matching set of silk pajamas— they were expensive as hell and probably one of the only things you don’t feel bad about Rafe buying for you, just because they’re so damn comfortable.

His eyes are closed in contentedness as you slide your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. He’s forgone a shirt tonight, and if you look closely, you can see goosebumps left in the wake of your slow, deft hands.

“Before we started dating- that time in the car. You said you like me because I’m mouthy and stubborn. But I’m not really that mouthy and stubborn now. Do you like me less?”

He squeezes you tight. “Doesn’t your brain have an off switch?”

“No.”

He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, his throat vibrating against your legs as he does it.

“Okay, first of all, you’re still mouthy and stubborn as hell, just in a different way. And no. I don’t like you less. If anything, I like you more.”

You worry your lip between your teeth. “How come? I thought most of my appeal came from the challenge.”

“That’s bullshit, baby. I like that you’re mouthy and stubborn. I also like that you’re soft and squishy too.”

His hand drifts lower, kneading flesh as it goes. “Really like that you’re squishy.”

“Mm. I think I’m a little too squishy.”

He presses his face closer to your tummy. “Are we talking physically or metaphorically here? You’re losing me.”

“Mm. Bit of both.”

His nose presses into the plush flesh. “No.”

“Just no?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He squeezes you once, then relaxes again. “Please go back to rubbing me, baby. Your hands feel so fucking nice.”

“Where do you want rubbed?”

“Anywhere. Jus’ wanna feel you.”

He falls asleep before the sun sets fully, breaths tickling your stomach and arms still firm around your waist.

The guilt starts to whither.

—

You’re going to do it. You’re going to ask him for something before he can offer. You’re gonna do it. It’s not hard. You can do it.

You slide into the passenger side door, leaning over to give him his customary kiss.

“How was work?”

“Can we please stop at that coffee place I like on our way?”

He blinks, taken back by your request for a moment. He recovers quickly, a smile tugging at his lips as he gives you another kiss, this one a little more heated than yours.

“Of course we can. You want that drink you like? The one with the cold foam?”

You nod, trying to discreetly rub the sweat from your palms onto your pants.

“Aww, look at you,” He coos, “So worked up over a little coffee. You spent your whole shift worryin’ about this, didn’t you?”

“Not the whole shift.” You mumble, embarrassed.

“It’s just a little coffee,” He teases, “No need to start worrying.”

“Too late.”

“Then we better go get that coffee, huh?”

He stretches his arm across the console, hand finding the meat of your thigh and just resting on it. It feels almost like a reward.

—

He catches on quick that you are, actually, trying to ask for things. Even though your skin prickles a little bit everytime, because you can do these things yourself, of course, but Rafe always gets this pinched look on his face when you insist on doing something yourself.

Rafe says that you’re the weird one in this scenario, not him. That most girls jump at the chance to sit back and let their boyfriend’s do all the work. But that just doesn’t sit right with you. It feels… unequal. If he does everything, if he takes care of you, then what are you bringing go the relationship?

“Your hot ass, for one.”

You swat his arm, sitting on towels on the beach in front of his house.

“I’m serious Rafe!”

“When are you not?”

You swat at him again, but he just chuckles, pushing up so he’s leaning back on his elbows. “Any chance you’d be satisfied with the ass answer?”

You give him a look.

He sighs. “Figured not. Okay,”

He rolls over, lying on his stomach and staring up at you. You cross your legs, absentmindedly taking his face in your hands.

He tips his head into your palms. “Permission to get mushy?”

“Permission granted.”

His eyes, nearly the same shade as the ocean behind him flit over your face before he speaks. “Well for one, you don’t take my shit. Pretty sure my family likes that about you.”

“As if you actually listen.”

“Don’t interrupt, I’m being mushy for you. You take care of me too. It’s cute as shit. You don’t even realize when you’re doing it. You’re doing it right now.”

You frown. “I am?”

“Mhm,” He taps your hands on either side of his face, “Just like this. So stop worrying about it.”

“But like, this doesn’t require any effort and I like doing it, and—“

He raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, you maybe have a point,” You concede, brushing a thumb over the crest of his cheekbone. “But it still doesn’t feel equal. I’m not doing anything, really.”

“You are. Don’t sell yourself short, angel,” He presses a kiss to your palm, then turns back to you, hand sliding over yours. “I promise you. It’s fair.”

“You promise?”

“Mhm.”

“You have to say you promise.”

He leans up and captures your lips in his, slow and soft and warm. The kind of thing that makes your stomach flip and your insides melt.

He pulls back, lips brushing yours as he speaks.

“I promise.”

—

Slowly, slowly, you allow yourself to enjoy things. Enjoy your insanely hot boyfriend, enjoy not having to worry about money- for anything, big or small.

Sometimes you buy something small just for the thrill of it. Sometimes it makes you guilty afterwards, sometimes it doesn’t.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah baby?”

“There’s a sale at Victoria’s Secret—“

“Get in the car.”

Some things he’s definitely more enthusiastic about than others, but, for reasons you don’t understand, he really does just enjoy spending money on you. “Doing his boyfriend duties,” as he’d put it.

A small part of you is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the longer it doesn’t, the more you settle into the comfort and, dare you say it, love that he wraps you in.

“Ray?”

“Hmm?”

You’re at a bonfire at the Boneyard, a scaled down version of the usual event that the bonfires end up being. Not a big turnout tonight— probably because of the cold snap threatening to turn summer into fall.

Rafe comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and dipping his chin into your shoulder, lips warm and soft where the meet the skin of your neck.

“You need something, sweetheart?”

You hum for minute, thinking. Sometimes you just want him near. You’ve come to learn you’re actually a very tactile girlfriend— when your boyfriend actually makes you feel loved and cared for.

“Can we go home soon?”

“Of course baby.”

“We should stop and get some food. M’ a little hungry.”

“Yeah? We can stop wherever.”

“And I was thinking,” You pause, the teeniest curl of apprehension poking your chest, “Maybe we could go out tomorrow? Go to a couple shops?”

He mouths the side of your neck, breath warm. “I think that’s a great idea. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause I get to show off my girl. My beautiful,” He sucks at the skin of your neck, a shudder running through you, “beautiful girlfriend.”

“Mm, what about me? Don’t I get to show off my handsome, sexy boyfriend?”

He grins against your skin. “Anytime you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

You aren’t either.

݁˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

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bokunoheros · 9 months ago

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TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (they do wear a dress and lingerie tho), reader and shouto are married, reader was in 1-A, pro hero shouto, everyone is 27+, alcohol consumption (shouto’s drunk), mentions of smoking a blunt (reader’s high), sex in a classroom, idfk GENRE: smut bruh SUMMARY: when you suggest doing it in public briefly and in passing to your husband, you were not expecting him to take you up on that offer at your fucking high school reunion!? WORD COUNT: 1.9K 🦊’s A/N: okay. so. this was originally supposed to be for iida, but since FORDULA couldn’t do day 18 like they were meant to… i wrote it for shouto instead bc im not writing for tenya sorry yall // also i wrote most of this the day before it was due after waking up at 5am so uhm 👍 god help me

the very last thing you were expecting from your husband would be the idea of him enjoying semi-public sex—it made sense how one would arrive to this conclusion, seeing as how he’s such a reserved person and all. you don’t even remember when it was that you brought it up—it must have just been a comment in passing; not that shouto missed it, of course. and then the suggestion got him thinking…. like seriously considering it. the more he thought about it, the more arousing it became to him, until it was a borderline fantasy: him fucking you somewhere you could easily be caught at with a large hand covering your mouth to make sure no one could overhear your desperate little noises. fuck.

now he finds himself at his ten year high school reunion, all dressed up with a raging erection that he was trying to hide by sitting at one of the tables there, grateful for the fabric draped over them, as he drinks and drinks to calm his nerves. thank god you volunteered to drive back home tonight. you don’t know what possessed you, but you didn’t feel like getting slizzard tonight—a stark contrast to your husband, who was trying to drink his boner away. (without much luck, mind you.)

when you come back over from the dancefloor to check in on your husband, however, he’s quick to excuse himself from the table he’d been seated at all night and drag you off to an empty classroom.

“shouto? ‘s something wrong?” you ask, looking up at him.

“no—i just—” how does he put this? “really wanna fuck you,” is what comes out of his drunken lips, his brain to mouth filter having shut off for the night. (was it really there to begin with though..?)

“oh!” you squeak as your cheeks flush at his words and he backs you up against the door. “h–here?” you’re at a loss for words entirely while shouto places both large, calloused hands on your hips as he begins to press sloppy, drunken kisses along your neck. “sh–shouto!”

“mmh?” he hums, not pausing in his actions—he doubles down, actually, by nipping at the tender flesh of your throat, the hands on your hips sliding down your thighs, down to the hem of the disgustingly skimpy dress you had decided to wear tonight—the reason for his raging erection all night—where they sneak up under it and back of to your hips so he could feel your bare flesh, quirk activating enough for you to feel an extreme difference in temperatures, but not ruin the fabric of your dress from the inside out.

“we—we can’t do that here; someone’s gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long!” you weakly protest, words holding no real weight. because if you were being one hundred percent honest, you wanted this just as much as he did, even without any alcohol in your system! (you had smoked a blunt and hotboxed the shit out of your car after arriving at the prestigious school, though, as you refused to be sober for an event such as this.)

“oh yeah? like who?” he counters, beginning to suck at your neck, not lingering on any one spot.

“a–ashido, probably! i— i just got done dancing with her—”

“i know, ‘ve been watchin’ you all night,” he slurs. “so you’re just taking a break—maybe you went to the bathroom, that’s not her business.” his hips press into yours, and you whine at the feeling of his hardened cock pressing against your crotch.

“god—you’re so full of shit,” you tell him, burying one hand in his two toned hair while the other settles on a sturdy shoulder, and todoroki can’t help but smile at your words.

“so?” you can feel him grinning against your neck, like a drunken fool in love (which is exactly what he was, by the way).

you’re out of comebacks and excuses as to why he shouldn’t fuck you right here, right now, so instead of trying to argue against hip, you tug at his hair so he’ll look at you before leaning in to press a kiss to his plump lips.

he tasted like the sake he’d been sipping on all night as he watched you with that intense gaze of his—something he inherited from his father, like it or not—and he hums in a pleased manner as he grips your hips tighter.

“how much have you had to drink tonight, baby?” you ask once you reluctantly pull away from the kiss—a question shouto chooses to ignore.

he’d had maybe three and a half red solo cups worth of sake in his system, which was enough for his inhibitions of being caught melt away. he almost hopes you two do get caught (by an old classmate at least) just so he can wordlessly flex that he was the one with the smoking hot spouse and not them.

so, with your minimal resistance and shouto’s horny persistence, it’s not long until he’s got his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties and is tugging them down your thighs, asking you to step out of them so can keep them in his pocket (for the rest of the reunion).

“hhnng—,” you whine as two of shouto’s icy fingers move to play with your clit, and a chill runs down your spine at the feeling. “sho—” you’re cut off by a kiss as your husband slots his lips over yours, teeth clacking slightly as he kisses you sloppily and hungrily. it wasn’t unusual for shouto’s to be a bit of a sloppy kisser (as it turns out, he’s a really big fan of swapping spit), but generally he was more put together than he was right now—it’s like he was trying to eat you whole as his tongue easily slid into your already open mouth.

you, ever the tease, quickly get with the program and arch your back, pressing your chest against his, and start sucking on his almost burning tongue—something that catches him only slightly off guard. he’s fast with his response though, left hand moving to squeeze your ass, heating up enough to leave a faint burning handprint.

“fuck!” you squeal at the searing touch and accidentally bite shouto’s tongue in the process.

he pulls away with a hiss but no real disdain before the same hand that had left a print on your butt comes up to cover your mouth. sure, the music in the gym was awfully loud, but there could still be some other people in the hallway—maybe people who actually had to use the bathroom. it doesn’t matter. what matters is that shouto gets to fuck you, and—an idea comes to mind that only his drunk, secretly perverted brain could think of.

“shhh,” he shushes you, pulling his hand away from your mouth in order to undo his belt buckle and unbutton his nice dress pants.

biting your lip, you nod as he tugs the slacks and his boxers down to about half way down his thick thighs, letting his painfully hard cock spring free and slap against his lower stomach. you can’t help but bite your bottom lip at the sight, and you go to sink to your knees to suck him off before he’s tugging you back up by the hair.

“no,” he pants, taking his dick in one hand as he plants the other back on your hip. “need t’fuck you—please, angel, i— it hurts,” he whines, lining his throbbing length up with your already wet slit.

“yeah? okay, fuck—go ahead, baby,” you give him permission to actually insert himself, and he groans loudly at the feeling of your tight heat finally engulfing him. jesus! he had waited all night for this, and it was so worth it.

“hnngh—shit,” he whimpers, the hand that was previously holding his dick moving to play with your puffy clit as he pushes into you slowly at first before bottoming out all at once. fuck!

your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but moan shouto’s name while tugging at his hair as he kisses you sloppy style once more.

with how drunk and horny he was, it doesn’t take long for your husband to approach his climax, and with the way he was toying with your sensitive button, you’re quickly being worked up to one too, until—

knockknockknock!

“hello..? i thought i heard someone groan, are you okay in there?” the voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on who it was. (it was hagakure, by the way.)

shouto freezes in all his actions and looks at you with half lidded eyes and a knowing smirk, cheeks flushed as he tries to quieten his breathing. your hips involuntarily roll down against the fingers still pressed against your clit, and you accidentally let out a quiet moan before covering your mouth with both hands, face burning with shame and arousal.

“all fine in here, thanks,” shouto’s able to get out, though his voice is strained. “just— ….reminiscing!” he lies, as if he wasn’t balls deep in you right now.

“ooh! fun! can i join?” the door handle jiggles, and shouto’s hand flys out to freeze the door shut. “—huh? hey, what’s with the door?”

“it’s—uhm, it’s personal memories,” he follows up, dick twitching inside you. fuck, how was he meant to last like this?

you almost giggle at his lame ass excuse and over the top reaction, until you remember that over the top reaction is the exact reason tooru hadn’t just seen you both in such a compromising position.

“we’ll be—done soon!” you call out, and at the sound of your voice and insistence on her not coming in, the invisible woman gets the message before saying oh! okay! and finally walking off.

“that was— that was close, wasn’t it?” shouto pants, starting to move his hips again as his fingers resume their circular motions against your clit.

“yeah, i could really feel how excited you were,” you chuckle, to which shouto huffs and picks up his pace. “nngh–!” you moan softly, as you both finally get a chance to cum.

your husband's dick twitches sporadically deep inside you before hot, sticky cum spills out of it and into you as your pussy spasms and flutters around him, milking shouto for everything he was worth and then some.

slowly pulling out of you, he plants a kiss to your spit-soaked lips before pulling his pants back up and redoing his belt and melting away the ice he had created not too long ago as you tug the hem of your dress down, and—hey! that panty thief!

“shouto…. aren’t you forgetting something?” you try to remind him, cringing at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of your wet cunt and trickle down your thigh.

“mmh,” his brows scrunch in thought, as if he’s actually thinking. “no? i don’t think so?” he moves to grab the door handle, but you bat his hand away and tug at his wrist.

“my…. my panties?” you say, trying to squeeze your thighs together to prevent any more cum from dripping out, but to no avail.

“oh! right—” he goes to take them out of his pocket before he pauses and a smirk tugs at his pouty lips. “you can have them back when we get home,” he tells you, opening the door and starting to walk out. “now come on, the others are going to get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

goddamn him!

return to KINKTOBER | S. TODOROKI M.LIST

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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

(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]

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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