#if I ever get a job that doesn’t take 12 hours a day I could draw more 🫡

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

I saw Gianni retweet your art on Twitter and I was like "I wonder if he knows...?"

I don’t think so >:3

Trick people into reposting gabe ass with one simple trick! Click here to find out how.

I didn’t even notice that happened cause I turned off all my notifications everywhere a few days ago for peace and quiet

[matcha3mochi]

PROTOCOL Pairing: Doctor Zayne x Nurse Reader

author note: love and deepspace is my addiction guys LOL anyways enjoy!!

wc: 3,865

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Akso Hospital looms in the heart of Linkon like a monument of glass, metal, and unrelenting precision. Multi-tiered, climate-controlled, and fully integrated with city-wide telemetry systems, it's known across the cosmos for housing the most advanced medical AI and the most exacting surgeons in the Union.

Inside its Observation Deck on Level 4, the air hums with quiet purpose. Disinfectant and filtered oxygen mix in sterile harmony. The floors are polished to a mirrored sheen, the walls pulse faintly with embedded biometrics, and translucent holoscreens scroll real-time vitals, arterial scans, and surgical priority tags in muted color-coded displays.

You’ve been on the floor since 0500. First to check vitals. First to inventory meds. First to get snapped at.

Doctor Zayne Li is already here—of course he is. The man practically lives in the operating theatres. Standing behind the panoramic glass that overlooks Surgery Bay Delta, he looks like something carved out of discipline and frost. His pristine long coat hangs perfectly from squared shoulders, gloves tucked with methodical precision, silver-framed glasses reflecting faint readouts from the transparent interface hovering before him.

He’s the hospital’s prized cardiovascular surgeon. The Zayne Li—graduated top of his class from Astral Medica, youngest surgeon ever certified for off-planet cardiac reconstruction, published more than any other specialist in the central systems under 35. There's even a rumor he once performed a dual-heart transplant in an emergency gravity failure. Probably true.

He’s a legend. A genius.

And an ass.

He’s never once smiled at you. Never once said thank you. With other staff, he’s distant but civil. With you, he’s something else entirely: cold, strict, and unrelentingly sharp. If you breathe wrong, he notices. If you hesitate, he corrects. If you do everything by protocol?

He still finds something to critique.

"Vitals on Bed 12 were late," he said this morning without even turning his head. No greeting. Just judgment, clean and surgical.

"They weren’t late. I had to reset the cuff."

"You should anticipate equipment failures. That’s part of the job."

And that was it. No acknowledgment of the three critical patients you’d managed in that hour. No recognition. No room for explanation. He turned away before you could blink, his coat slicing behind him like punctuation.

You don’t like him.

You don’t disrespect him—because you're a professional, and because he's earned his reputation a hundred times over. But you don’t like how he talks to you like you’re a glitch in the system. Like you’re a deviation he hasn’t figured out how to reprogram.

You’ve worked under strict doctors before. But Zayne is different. He doesn’t push to challenge you. He pushes to see if you’ll break.

And the worst part?

You haven’t.

Which only seems to piss him off more.

You watch him now from the break table near the edge of the deck, your synth-coffee going tepid between your hands. He’s reviewing scans on a projection screen—high-res, rotating 3D models of a degenerating bio-synthetic valve. His eyes, a pale hazel-green, flick across the data with sharp focus. His arms are folded behind his back, posture perfect, expression unreadable.

He hasn’t noticed you.

Correction: he has, and he’s pointedly ignoring you.

Typical.

You take another sip of coffee, more bitter than before. You could head back to inventory. You could restock surgical trays. But you don’t.

Because part of you refuses to give him the satisfaction of leaving first.

So you stay.

And so does he.

Two professionals. Two adversaries. One cold war fought in clipped words, clinical tension, and overlapping silence.

And the day hasn’t even started yet.

The surgical light beams down like a second sun, flooding the operating theatre in harsh, clinical brightness. It washes the color out of everything—blood, skin, even breath—until all that remains is precision.

Doctor Zayne Li stands at the head of the table, gloved hands elevated and scrubbed raw, sleeves of his sterile gown clinging tight around his forearms. His eyes flick up to the vitals screen, then down to the patient’s exposed chest.

“Vitals?” he asks.

You answer without hesitation. “Steady. HR 82, BP 96/63, oxygen at 99%, no irregularities.���

His silence is your only cue to proceed.

You hand him the scalpel, handle first, exactly as protocol demands. He doesn’t look at you when he takes it—but his fingers graze yours, cold through double-layered gloves, and the contact still sends a tiny jolt up your arm. Annoying.

He makes the incision without fanfare, clean and deliberate, the kind of cut that only comes from years of obsessive mastery. The kind that still makes your gut tighten to watch.

You monitor the instruments, anticipating without crowding him. You’ve been assisting in his surgeries for weeks now. You’ve learned when he prefers the microclamp versus the stabilizer. You’ve memorized the sequence of his suturing pattern. You know when to speak and when not to. Still, it’s never enough.

“Retractor,” he says flatly.

You’re already reaching.

“Not that one.”

Your hand freezes mid-motion.

His tone is ice. “Cardiac thoracic, not abdominal. Are you even awake?”

A hot flush rises behind your ears. He doesn’t yell—Zayne never yells—but his disappointment cuts deeper than a scalpel. You grit your teeth and correct the tray.

“Cardiac thoracic,” you repeat. “Understood.”

No response. Just the soft click of metal as he inserts the retractor into the sternotomy.

The rest of the operation is silence and beeping. You suction blood before he asks. He cauterizes without hesitation. The damaged aortic valve is removed, replaced with a synthetic graft designed for lunar-pressure tolerance. It’s delicate work—millimeter adjustments, microscopic thread. One wrong move could tear the tissue.

Zayne doesn’t shake. Doesn’t blink. He’s terrifyingly still, even as alarms spike and the patient's BP dips for three agonizing seconds.

“Clamp. Now,” he says.

You pass it instantly. He seals the nicked vessel, stabilizes the pressure, and the monitor quiets.

You exhale—but not too loudly. Not until the final suture is tied, the chest closed, and the drape removed. Then, and only then, does he speak again.

“Clean,” he says, already walking away. “Prepare a report for Post-Op within the hour.”

You stare at his retreating back, fists clenched at your sides. No thank you. No good work. Just a cold command and disappearing footsteps.

The Diagnostic Lab is silent, save for the low hum of scanners and the occasional pulse of a vitascan completing a loop. The walls are steel-paneled with matte black inlays, lit only by the soft glow of holographic interfaces. Ambient light drifts in from a side wall of glass, showing the icy curve of Europa in the distance, half-shadowed in space.

You stand alone at a curved diagnostics console, sleeves rolled just above your elbows, eyes locked on the 3D hologram spinning in front of you. The synthetic heart pulses slowly, arteries reconstructed with precise synthetic grafts. The valve—a platinum-carbon composite—is functioning perfectly. You check the scan tags, patient ID, op codes, and log the post-op outcome.

Everything’s clean. Correct.

Or so you thought.

You barely register the soft hiss of the door opening behind you until the room shifts. Not in volume, but in pressure—like gravity suddenly increased by one degree.

You don’t turn. You don’t have to.

Zayne.

“Line 12 in the file log,” he says, voice low, composed, and close. Too close.

You blink at the screen. “What about it?”

“You mislabeled the scan entry. That’s a formatting violation.”

Your heart rate ticks up. You straighten your spine.

“No,” you reply calmly, “I used trauma tags from pre-op logs. They cross-reference with the emergency surgical queue.”

His footsteps approach—measured, deliberate—and stop directly behind you. You sense the heat of his body before anything else. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you feel him standing there, like a charged wire humming at your back.

“You adapted a tag system that’s not recognized by this wing’s software. If these were pushed to central review, they’d get flagged. Wasting time.” His tone is even. Too even.

Your hands rest on the edge of the console. You force your shoulders not to tense.

“I made a call based on the context. It was logical.”

“You’re not here to improvise logic,” he replies, stepping even closer.

You feel the air change as he raises his arm, reaching past you—his coat sleeve brushing the side of your bicep lightly, the barest whisper of contact. His hand moves with surgical confidence as he taps the air beside your own, opening the tag metadata on the scan you just logged. His fingers are long, gloved, deliberate in motion.

“This,” he says, highlighting a code block, “should have been labeled with an ICU procedural tag, not pre-op trauma shorthand.”

You turn your head slightly, and there he is. Close. Towering. His jaw is tight, clean-shaven except for the faintest trace of stubble catching the edge of the light. There’s a tiredness around his eyes—subtle, buried deep—but he doesn’t blink. Doesn’t waver. He’s so still it’s unnerving.

He doesn’t seem to notice—or care—how near he is.

You, however, are all too aware.

Your voice tightens. “Is there a reason you couldn’t point this out without standing over me like I’m in your way?”

Zayne doesn’t flinch. “If I stood ten feet back, you’d still argue with me.”

You bristle. “Because I know what I’m doing.”

“And yet,” he replies coolly, “I’m the one correcting your data.”

That sting digs deep. You pull in a breath, clenching your fists subtly against the side of the console. You want to yell. But you won’t. Because he wants control, and you won’t give him that too.

He lowers his hand slowly, retracting from the display, and finally—finally—steps back. Just enough to let you breathe again.

But the tension? It lingers like static.

“I’ll correct the tag,” you say flatly.

Zayne nods once, then turns to go.

But at the doorway, he stops.

Without looking back, he adds, “You're capable. That’s why I expect better.”

Then he walks out.

Leaving you in the cold hum of the diagnostic lab, your pulse racing, your thoughts a snarl of frustration and something else—unsettling and electric—curling low in your gut.

You don’t know what that something is.

But you’re starting to suspect it won’t go away quietly.

You sit three seats from the end of the long chrome conference table, back straight, shoulders tight, fingers wrapped just a little too hard around your datapad.

The Surgical Briefing Room is too bright. It always is. Cold light from the ceiling plates bounces off polished surfaces, glass walls, and the brushed steel of the central console. A hologram hovers in the center of the room, slowly spinning: the reconstructed heart from this morning’s procedure, arteries lit in pulsing red and cyan.

You can feel sweat prickling at the nape of your neck under your uniform collar. Your scrubs are crisp, your hair pinned back precisely, your notes immaculate—but none of that matters when Dr. Myles Hanron speaks.

You’ve only spoken to him a few times. He’s been at Bell for twenty years. Stern. Respected. Impossible to argue with. Today, he's reviewing the recent cardiovascular procedure—the one you assisted under Zayne’s lead.

And something is off. He’s frowning at the scan display.

Then he looks at you.

“Explain this inconsistency in the anticoagulation log.”

You glance up, already feeling the slow roll of nausea in your stomach.

Your voice comes out measured, but your throat is dry. “I followed the automated-calibrated dosage curve based on intra-op vitals and confirmed with the automated log.”

Hanron raises a brow, his tablet casting a soft reflection on the lenses of his glasses. “Then you followed it wrong.”

The words hit like a slap across your face.

You feel the blood drain from your cheeks. Something sharp twists in your stomach.

“I—” you begin, mouth parting. You shift slightly in your seat, fingers tightening on the datapad in your lap, legs crossed too stiffly. Your body wants to shrink, but you force yourself not to move.

“Don’t interrupt,” Hanron snaps, before you can finish.

A few heads turn in your direction. One of the interns frowns, glancing at you with wide eyes. You stare straight ahead, trying to keep your breathing even, your spine straight, your jaw from visibly clenching.

Hanron paces two steps in front of the display. “You logged a 0.3 ml deviation on a patient with a known history of arrhythmic episodes. Are you unfamiliar with the case history? Or did you just not check?”

“I did check,” you say, quieter, trying to keep your tone professional. Your hands are starting to sweat. “The scan flagged it within range. I wasn’t improvising—”

“Then how did this discrepancy occur?” he presses. “Or are you suggesting the system is at fault?”

You flinch, slightly. You open your mouth to say something—to explain the terminal sync issue you noticed during the last vitals run—but your voice catches.

You’re a nurse.

You’re new.

So you sit there, every instinct in your body screaming to speak, to defend yourself—but you swallow it down.

You stare down at your datapad, the screen now blurred from the way your vision’s tunneling. You clench your teeth until your jaw aches.

You can’t speak up. Not without making it worse.

“Let this be a reminder,” Hanron says, turning his back to you as he scrolls through another projection, “that there is no room for guesswork in surgical prep. Especially not from auxiliary staff who feel the need to act above their training.”

Auxiliary.

The word burns.

You feel heat crawl up your chest. Your hands are shaking slightly. You grip your knees under the table to hide it.

And then—

“I signed off on that dosage.”

Zayne’s voice cuts clean through the air like a cold wire.

You turn your head sharply toward the door. He’s standing in the entrance, posture military-straight, coat half-unbuttoned, gloves tucked into his belt. His presence shifts the atmosphere instantly.

His black hair is perfectly combed back, not a strand out of place, glinting faintly under the sterile overhead lights. His silver-framed glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose, catching a brief reflection from the room’s data panels, but not enough to hide the expression in his eyes.

Hazel-green. Pale and piercing

He’s not looking at you. His gaze is fixed past you, locked on Hanron with unflinching intensity—like the man has just committed a fundamental breach of logic.

There’s not a wrinkle in his coat. Not a single misaligned button or loose thread. Even the gloves at his belt look placed, not shoved there. Zayne is, as always, polished. Meticulous. Icy.

But today—his expression is different.

His jaw is set tighter than usual. The faint crease between his brows is deeper. He looks like a man on the verge of unsheathing a scalpel, not for surgery—but for precision retaliation.

And when he speaks, his voice is calm. Controlled.

His face is unreadable. Voice flat.

“If there’s a problem with it, you can take it up with me.”

The silence in the room is instant. Tense. Airless.

Hanron turns slowly. “Doctor Zayne, this isn’t about—”

“It is,” Zayne replies, tone even sharper. “You’re implying a clinical error in my procedure. If you’re accusing her, then you’re accusing me. So let’s be clear.”

You can barely process it. Your heart is thudding, ears buzzing from the sudden shift in tone, from the weight of Zayne’s voice cutting through the tension like a scalpel. You look at him — really look — and for once, he isn’t focused on numbers or reports.

He’s solely focused on Hanron. And he is furious — not loudly, but in the way his voice doesn’t rise, his jaw locks, and his words slice like ice.

Just furious—in that cold, calculated way of his.

“She followed my instruction under direct supervision,” he says, voice steady. “The variance was intentional. Based on patient history and real-time rhythm response.”

He pauses just long enough to let the words land.

“It was correct.”

Hanron doesn’t respond right away.

His lips press into a thin line, face unreadable, and he shifts back a step—visibly checking himself in the silence Zayne has carved into the room like a scalpel.

“We’ll review the surgical logs,” Hanron mutters at last, voice clipped, his authority retreating behind procedure.

Zayne nods once. “Please do.”

Then, without fanfare, without another word, he steps forward—not toward the exit, but toward the table.

You track him with your eyes, unable to help it.

The low hum of the room resumes, like the air had been holding its breath. No one speaks. A few nurses drop their eyes back to their datapads. Pages turn. Screens flicker.

But you’re frozen in place, shoulders still tight, hands clenched in your lap to keep them from visibly shaking.

Zayne rounds the end of the table, his boots clicking softly against the metal flooring. His long coat sways with his movements, falling neatly behind him as he pulls out the seat directly across from you.

And sits.

Not at the head of the table. Not in some corner seat to observe.

Directly across from you.

He adjusts his glasses with two fingers, expression cool again, almost as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t just dress down a senior doctor in front of the entire room on your behalf.

He doesn’t look at you.

He opens the file on his datapad, stylus poised, reviewing the surgical results like this is any other debrief.

But you’re still staring.

You study the slight tension in his shoulders, the stillness in his hands, the way his eyes don’t drift—not toward Hanron, not toward you—locked entirely on the data as if that can contain whatever just happened.

You should say something.

Thank you.

But the words get stuck in your throat.

Your pulse is still unsteady, confusion mixing with the low thrum of heat behind your ribs. He didn’t need to defend you. He never steps into conflict like that, especially not for others—especially not for you.

You glance away first, eyes back on your screen, unable to ignore the twist in your gut.

The room empties, but you stay.

The echo of voices fades out with the hiss of the sliding doors. Just a few minutes ago, the surgical debrief room was bright with tension—every overhead light too sharp, the air too thin, the hum of holopanels and datapads a constant static in your head.

Now, it’s quiet. Still.

You sit for a moment longer, fingers resting on your lap, knuckles tight, back straight even though your entire body wants to collapse inward. You’re still warm from the flush of embarrassment, your pulse still flickering behind your ears.

Dr. Hanron’s words sting less now, dulled by the cool aftershock of what Zayne did.

He defended you.

You hadn’t expected it. Not from him.

You replay it in your head—his voice cutting in, his posture like stone, his eyes locked on Hanron like a scalpel ready to slice. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even look at you.

But you felt it.

You felt the impact of what it meant.

And now, as you sit in the empty conference room—white walls, chrome-edged table, sterile quiet—you’re left with one burning thought:

You have to say something.

You rise slowly, brushing your palms down your thighs to wipe off the sweat that lingers there. You hesitate at the doorway. Your reflection stares back at you in the glass panel—eyes still a little wide, jaw tight, posture just a bit too stiff.

He didn’t have to defend you, but he did.

And that matters.

You step into the hallway.

It’s long and narrow, glowing with soft white overhead lights and lined with clear glass panels that reflect fragments of your movement as you walk. The hum of the ventilation system buzzes low and steady—comforting in its monotony. The air smells of antiseptic and the faint trace of ozone from high-oxygen surgical wards.

You spot him ahead, already halfway down the corridor, walking with purpose—long coat swaying slightly with each step, back straight, shoulders squared. Always composed. Always fast.

You hesitate. Your boots slow down and your throat tightens.

You want to turn back, to let it go, to pretend it was just professional courtesy. Nothing more. Nothing personal.

But you can’t.

Not this time.

You quicken your pace.

“Doctor Zayne!”

The name catches in the air, too loud in the quiet hallway. You flinch, just a little—but he stops.

You break into a small jog to catch up, boots tapping sharply against the tile. Your breath catches as you reach him.

Zayne turns toward you, expression unreadable, brows slightly furrowed in that ever-present, analytical way of his. The glow of the ceiling lights reflects off his silver-framed glasses, casting sharp highlights along the edges of his jaw.

He doesn’t say anything. Just waits.

You stop a foot away, heart thudding. You don’t know what you expected—maybe something colder. Maybe for him to ignore you entirely.

You swallow hard, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“I just…” Your voice is quieter now. Careful. “I wanted to say thank you.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze is steady. Measured.

“I don’t tolerate incompetence,” he says calmly. “That includes false accusations.”

You blink, taken off guard by the directness. It’s not warm. Not even particularly kind. But coming from him, it’s almost intimate.

Still, you can’t help yourself. “That wasn’t really about incompetence.”

“No,” he admits. “It wasn’t.”

The hallway feels smaller now, quieter. He’s watching you in full. Not scanning you like a chart, not calculating — watching. Still. Focused.

You nod slowly, grounding yourself in the moment. “Still. I needed to say it. Thank you.”

You’re suddenly aware of everything—of the warmth in your cheeks, of the way your hands twist at your sides, of how tall he stands compared to you, even when he’s not trying to intimidate.

And he isn’t. Not now.

If anything, he looks… still.

Not soft. Never that. But something quieter. Less armored.

“You handled yourself better than most would have,” he says after a moment. “Even if I hadn’t said anything, you didn’t lose control.”

“I didn’t feel in control,” you admit, a breath of nervous laughter escaping. “I was two seconds from either crying or throwing my datapad.”

That earns you something surprising—just the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Almost a smile. But not quite.

“Neither would’ve been productive,” he says.

You roll your eyes slightly. “Thanks, Doctor Efficiency.”

His glasses catch the light again, but his expression doesn’t change.

You glance past him, down the corridor. “I should get back to my rotation.”

He nods once. “I’ll see you in the lab.”

You pause.

Then—because you don’t know what else to do—you offer a small, genuine smile.

“I’ll be there.”

As you turn to leave, you feel his eyes on your back.

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy

a yandere art professor Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU...

CHAPTER MAP-> part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15 part 16

I.

-You’re a favorite amongst the studio art students at the university where you model. Not because of your looks, but because of your exceptional ability at sitting still. When you retreat inside your mind and you’re sitting in a position that doesn’t have any pinch points, you can go a solid hour without moving a muscle. 

-Maybe it helps, that you were once an art student too. You’ve studied the classical positions immortalized by the greats. The drama of the Renaissance martyrs to the quiet repose of the Impressionists to the silent anguish of the Pre Raphaelites. You do a damn good Odalisque, if you don’t say so yourself.

-You’ve been doing this for a while, and you’re pretty comfortable with it. That is, until you walk into the first day of Figure Drawing 101 to find the most handsome man you’ve ever seen behind the desk–decidedly not the usual portly, gray-haired, female professor who hired you years ago. He is tall, and dark, with soulful black eyes that make your lady parts ache. It’s incredibly embarrassing when your mitt veritably disappears in his in a cordial handshake (good lord, what poetic, long-fingered hands!) and you almost forget your own name. 

-He is incredibly gracious about your impression of a goldfish at feeding time. Undoubtedly, he’s used to this effect he has on women. Deep down, he must be laughing at you, and this more than anything helps you get a grip as you disappear into your little supply closet to change. 

-You emerge in your pretty paisley-print robe that sweeps the floor, and you realize you haven’t been nervous about taking off your clothes in class since your very first day on this job. Your palms are actually sweating, as you perch on the model stand with your legs crossed, watching him out the corner of your eye. He is stupidly dapper, in a dark tweed suit and tie. His hair swings down into his eyes as he reads something on his desk, and you’re not proud of what you would give for the privilege to run your fingers through that fluffy dark hair. 

-Thoroughly disgusted with yourself, you’re grateful when it’s time for class to begin. You’re surrounded by young adults who are [mostly] eager to learn with charcoal in hand. All eyes are on you, but its Professor Wick’s eyes you feel like a weight on your skin when the robe slides from your shoulders. You are so glad you can blame the air conditioning for your state of…attention. 

-You start with quick warm ups, then some five minute studies, and finally an extended pose with small breaks in between. When the kids take a break in the middle of the three hour period you slide back on your robe and make a round of the room, perusing the sketches. You can already tell who will be at the top of the class, but also who has potential for improvement if they work hard and practice. And some…better be good at math, because art is not their thing.

You do not hear him behind you, until he speaks. “I'm not sure how your clavicle could be at that angle…unless it was broken in two places.” You cover your smile with your hand as you glance back over your shoulder at him, a hot blush spreading like wildfire up your neck for some ridiculous reason. 

Mere proximity, you fear.

“Maybe their professor will set them straight.”

He chuckles with a charming self-deprecation that you find painfully endearing, scrubbing the back of his neck. 

“I like to see where everyone stands on the first day. I promise that lessons in anatomy will be forthcoming.” He only meets your eyes for a bare second as he tells you this, but you are astonished you do not spontaneously combust.

TBC...

___

pinterest board/photo credits

[kinkyrafe]

Two Hours, Eighteen Minutes

Kinktober, October 12

THIS WORK IS 18+ ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

The one where Rafe is edged for exactly two hours and eighteen minutes.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, domme!reader, sub!rafe, very explicit

taglist: @yagirlwrites @audzzz @valyrianflower @aariahnaa

Rafe and you haven’t been able to meet up for a couple of days now. It’s still way too early in the relationship to even think about moving in together, though a part of you can’t help but wonder what it would be like. Another part of you isn’t entirely sure if Rafe and you even like each other outside the bedroom.

The sex is incredible, no doubt—the best you’ve ever had. Your gut tells you it’s the same for him. You’d introduced him to this whole world only a couple of months ago, and so far, he’d embraced every part of it. He worships you.

Still, sex alone doesn’t make a relationship, and you can’t help but get insecure sometimes. You wonder whether he’s more enamored with the way you dominate him than who you are. But those thoughts disappear as soon as your phone rings the minute you leave your office.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Rafe’s voice rasps through your AirPods. “How did your presentation go?”

Your heart warms. He’d sent a couple of good luck texts throughout the day, but hearing his voice check in felt different—more intimate.

“It went really well,” you reply, pushing through the door and heading down the stairs. “They loved the proposal. It’s basically accepted; I’ll know by Monday.”

“Sounds great,” Rafe responds. You can almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah. Thank you for checking in, babe. How’s your day?”

“Eh,” he sighs, “boring as fuck, but okay.”

“Are you off work already?” you ask, your voice turning suggestive. “I could think of a couple ways to make your day more exciting.”

“One more client,” he groans. “I could be at your place in maybe one and a half hours. Two, max.”

You grin, an idea already forming. “I’ll give you an incentive to hurry then,” you say smugly, unlocking your car. “I’m gonna time how long it takes you to get here. However long it takes, that’s how many minutes I’ll edge you tonight.”

His groan is instant, guttural. “Babe, no, you can’t do that to me.”

“Aw, I’ve done worse,” you tease, waving goodbye to your coworker in the parking lot. “Just think about how good it’ll feel when I finally let you come.”

“Fuck, babe. I’m hard already,” he admits.

You laugh softly, “Better behave for that last client then.”

“I will, I just need a second,” he chuckles.

“Maybe we should stop talking. The clock’s ticking.” And with that, you hang up, leaving him to stew in his anticipation.

#

Two hours and eighteen minutes. That’s the time he has to last tonight.

You order Rafe to sit on the couch, and he obeys without hesitation. There’s a mix of excitement and tension in his eyes as you stand over him, watching his every move.

“The only thing you need to do is obey,” you remind him with a wicked grin. “I’ll handle the rest.”

First, you tie his hands behind his back, tight but not too tight—just enough to remind him of his place. Then, you hold the ball gag in front of his mouth, giving him that familiar, expectant look. He knows the routine, so you prompt him anyway, “Remind me of your safe words and the gestures for when you’re gagged.”

He quickly shows you, and you nod approvingly. “Good boy. Open up.”

He opens his mouth willingly, and you fit the gag between his lips, securing it behind his head. Then you grab the blindfold, wrapping it around his head and plunging him into darkness.

You move behind him, kneeling on the couch, so his back is against your chest, his body sitting between your legs. “Spread those legs wide,” you command, your voice low and firm.

He obeys, his thighs parting for you.

“Keep them spread. That’s your only job today. Keep those legs open for me.”

You set a timer on your phone and place it beside you. “Two hours and eighteen minutes,” you murmur into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “When the timer goes off, you can come whenever you’re able.” You lean closer, lips grazing his neck. “Until then, you’re mine to play with.”

You hit start on the timer. It’s going to be a long, teasing stretch—especially since he can’t see how much time has passed. The power of control pulses through you, making you feel downright diabolical.

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss just below his ear, his sensitive spot. His cock twitches, a low moan escaping his gagged lips.

“Mmm, so responsive already,” you praise, smiling against his neck. You start by spanking his inner thighs, alternating between slow strokes and stinging slaps, enough to make his skin redden. You drag your nails across the heated flesh in between sets, making him shiver.

“Has it been two hours yet?” he manages to ask through the gag, humor barely hiding his discomfort as you land a slap dangerously close to his balls.

You smirk. “Still in a joking mood?” You slap him harder, making his legs tremble as he tries to keep them spread. You dig your nails into his thigh, watching his body strain against his binds.

"Remember," you say, your voice feigning innocence as you lightly tap his balls, "the gag is there for a reason. I don't want to hear you speak, understood?"

He nods quickly, his thighs quivering with the effort of holding himself open for you. When his knees shift in slightly, instinctively protecting his sensitive balls, you tap them harder.

“Open your legs for me,” you command. His legs fly apart immediately, and you smile. “Good boy. Keep them wide like that.”

Then, you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking slowly. He’s rock hard, his cock twitching in your hand. It doesn’t take long before he’s edging closer and closer, his body tensing with every touch. But you don’t let him have the release he’s dying for. You build him up, only to pull him back from the edge over and over.

Twenty minutes in, he’s already a moaning, trembling mess, his body on fire from your teasing. His legs start to close, just a little, betraying his struggle to hold back. You grab the paddle this time and smack his thighs, hard.

“Spread your legs,” you snap, “or I’ll make this even harder.”

His groan is loud, almost desperate, but he obeys, his knees jerking back apart. You tilt his head back by the chin to keep him upright, and then you start playing with his nipples, flicking your knuckles over the hardened buds. He whimpers, his hips bucking helplessly.

“Poor boy,” you tease, twisting his nipples harshly. “I haven’t even started on these yet.”

You work his nipples relentlessly, twisting and tugging, pulling soft, pathetic moans from his throat. You know you could make him cum just from this alone if you wanted to.

Every time his legs twitch closed, you shove them back open, spanking him hard to remind him who’s in charge. He’s been warned multiple times.

You don’t talk much during the session; your actions are enough. The control, the power—you don’t need to rile him up with words. His body is already past the point of begging, past coherent thoughts, just reacting to your every touch.

After an hour and a half, you really need to change positions. You untie him briefly and order him to kneel on the couch, his knees spread wide. Then, you bend him over, his chest and head pressed against the cushions, his ass raised high.

With his hands still tied behind his back, the position is uncomfortable, but you know it’ll help him last longer. You wrap a cock ring around his balls without warning, and he lets out a choked groan of relief—until he feels the cold lube drizzle over his hole.

“You didn’t think I’d make this easy, did you?” you ask, your voice playful as you slide the prostate massager inside him. He shakes his head, swallowing around the gag.

His body is so tense, every jerk of his hips is unnatural, his movements erratic as he fights to hold himself back.

You barely have to do anything now. Holding his cock in both hands, you run slow circles over the sensitive head, teasing him. His body is past words now. You can’t remember the last time he managed to choke out a proper “please.” All that escapes his mouth are desperate sounds—soft “oh”s and gasps of tortured pleasure.

You listen, savoring every noise, each gasp and groan. “Such pretty noises you’re making for me... am I making you feel good?”

You stroke him firmly, up and down his length, watching as his body convulses, his breathing ragged and uneven. His hips jerk upwards as the build-up of his orgasm starts again, only to sink back down onto the couch when you stop your ministrations.

You smile. This is what people mean when they say you can play someone’s body like an instrument. Every word, every touch, every slight movement—his body responds without thought. He’s a puppet, and you’re pulling the strings.

He’s so close now, but you don’t let him cum. Not yet.

“Too bad,” you coo, “you still have some time to go.” Luckily for him, it’s only another minute and a half, but he doesn’t need to know that. You resume your slow, torturous pace, keeping him on the edge. His body is trembling uncontrollably now, every muscle tensing and releasing as if he’s barely holding on.

The room is filled with the sounds of his ragged breaths, muffled whimpers, and the soft ticking of the timer. You love every second of it—watching him strain, seeing how desperate he is to let go but knowing he can’t. Not yet.

Just as you run your fingers lightly over his sensitive cock again, the timer goes off.

The sound fills the room, but Rafe doesn’t notice at first. He’s too far gone, too overwhelmed by everything you’ve done to him. When it finally registers, a sob of relief escapes him. His whole body slumps forward, barely held up by the restraints. You smile, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“You made it,” you whisper, your voice filled with praise. “So, so good, babe.”

You remove the cock ring, and with just a few firm strokes, his entire body tenses again. The moans that rip from his throat are muffled by the gag as his orgasm crashes through him like a tidal wave. You can feel every tremor, every shudder, as his body shakes uncontrollably, ropes of cum spilling from his cock as you continue stroking him through it. He’s completely, utterly ruined, just how you wanted him.

When he’s finally spent, you slowly untie his wrists, careful not to let him collapse into an awkward position. You remove the blindfold and the gag, stroking his hair softly, letting him catch his breath.

“I love seeing you like this—completely ruined, all because of me,” you say with a satisfied smile as you wipe the cum from his body with a warm cloth. He’s too exhausted to respond immediately, his breathing still labored, but he manages a small chuckle.

“My brain always clocks out about halfway through,” he admits with a breathless laugh. His voice is hoarse, and you can see the openness in his eyes. It’s one of your favorite parts, how completely vulnerable and raw he is after a session like this.

“Yeah?” you ask, grinning as you lie down beside him on the couch, pulling him into your arms. “And yet you made it all the way through.”

He leans into you, his body finally relaxed, spent. “I never would’ve thought I’d love this so much,” he murmurs, a hint of awe in his voice.

You kiss his forehead gently, running your fingers through his hair. "You trust me," you say softly, "and that's everything."

A few weeks ago, he might’ve been shy or embarrassed about how deeply he’s fallen into submission, but not anymore. Now, he’s comfortable. Confident. There’s no shame, no hesitation. He knows he’s completely safe with you, that you’ll always take care of him—even when you push him to his limits.

He’s quiet for a while, just resting against you as you stroke his back, giving him the aftercare he needs. It’s a peaceful moment, a contrast to the intensity of everything that just happened. You savor it, holding him close, knowing that these quiet moments are just as important as the play itself.

Eventually, he looks up at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “Thank you,” he says, his voice soft but sincere. “For everything.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Always,” you reply. And you mean it.

[crguang]

wasted with longing, part 2

You have never been so bothered in your life. Why? You refuse to admit it to yourself yet.

friends with benefits, afab!reader, gp!kafka, smut, mutual masturbation, facetime/video call sex, 6k words

A/N: after two whole months… we’re so back (im sorry). i giggled a lot writing this because the simple concept of fuckboy kafka is so ridiculous but i swear there’s a plot somewhere

part one part three

The bright light of your laptop screen starts to burn your retinas, and you blink quickly to chase away the fatigue building up under your eyelids. The words on the page stopped mattering over an hour ago yet you’re in no position to throw your work to the wind; you’ve already made it this far and this presentation is due in exactly 12 hours and 33 minutes. You’re at a stage where you blame everything and everyone that has ever contributed in leading you to where you sit against your bed’s headboard, lights dimmed low as your fingers brush over the keyboard in clicking sounds you’re deafened to. Your anxiety is the only thing keeping you awake, and if you cared about your job just a little less, you would have quit right then. You thought you’d left all-nighters in the past with boring college classes and tiny dorm rooms but life has an irritating way of repeating itself. 

You let out the hundredth sigh of the hour and take a moment to breathe in slowly through your nose, head tilted to the ceiling and eyes screwed shut, before exhaling loudly. You steel yourself for what you know is at least another hour of bullshitting statistics that you will do your best to present confidently this afternoon, but you can’t even pretend to like what you do anymore. Working in research has never been the most exciting career despite the occasional interesting discoveries you’ve been a part of. Still, you needed a job that would allow you to afford to live on your own in a city far away from your nagging parents and you were getting good at denying the fact that it is sucking the soul out of you. Your days are mundane, your routine unsatisfying, and you long for something more like most adults your age. You can’t quit until you find a better alternative that will pay you the same or more, so you bite back another exasperated groan and go back to your slides.

You wouldn’t be in this position eight days ago. You’ve had a week to come up with this presentation and instead of working on it like the diligent employee you usually are, most of your time was spent with your head in the clouds, preoccupied by someone who isn’t thinking about you. It makes you sick how bothered you are. It’s not like anything changed between the last time you talked and the one before that, and you were never as distracted by the lack of response as you have been this past week. You ignored your responsibilities, went out with friends four days in a row to convince yourself of your fake nonchalance just to find yourself in trouble that could have easily been avoided, anxious over the career you’ve worked so hard to earn.

Nothing good comes out of allowing that woman a bigger place in your thoughts than the three square feet corner she deserves, you know that. What frustrates you the most is that you don’t understand where this sudden concern for her lack of honesty comes from. Lies flow out of her like she was born with them on her lips; again, you know that. Then, what is the issue? Without identifying the root of the problem, you’re left a snowball of jumbled thoughts and insecurity steadily getting bigger as it nears the foot of the mountain until it inevitably crashes into a tree and falls apart completely. Why say things she doesn’t mean? Are you disposable? You hate her. Does she hate you? You should block her number. Why do you care? Screw her. 

…You wish you could.

Your laptop screen turns dark and snatches you back to reality. You got lost in thought again. You run a hand over your face, using two fingers to rub the inner corner of your eyes. You’re pathetic. Even now with this feeling of impending doom looming over you, your mind drifts to her and attempts to find reason behind her actions when there is likely none. Your work is important to you, she is not. Yet, you’re incapable of focusing on the PowerPoint in front of you. You start to wonder if you should lie down, rest your eyes for a few hours and finish the presentation when you wake up, right before you get ready to leave for the office. It would be cutting it extremely close, but you can’t think clearly anymore and the stress gets more paralyzing as the minutes go by. Another tired sigh escapes you. Maybe you simply need to relax a little, perhaps with some scalding tea. 

You push your laptop aside and stretch your body on the covers, arms over your head like a lazy cat. You’ll prepare a cup of tea to soothe your muscles then you’ll finish your work and go to bed. If you lie to yourself enough times, you believe you can make it. You straighten up and smooth down your hair. You’re about to stand up when a familiar ping! near you announces a new text message. You reach for your phone on your nightstand, thinking perhaps one of your friends got drunk again and needed a ride home, and tap the screen to open your notification center. 

You stare at the screen until it turns black, tap it so it lights up again and repeat the process a couple more times as your mind processes what your eyes are seeing and the implications behind it. You almost can’t believe the message you just got and have to click the notification to open up the private conversation; there, at 2:29 AM, Kafka sent you a video. You can’t make out much from the blurry cover, though the lighting seems low like it was filmed during the late evening. Your thumb hovers over it for a moment, wondering if she even meant to send that to you since she hasn’t texted or called since the last time you hooked up. In hindsight her behaviour is not so unusual, you thought you were used to her elusive ways but if the past week has taught you anything, it’s that you obviously expect something from her. Honesty, basic human decency— to not leave you feeling like a wet towel discarded in the laundry bin after she’s used it.

“…Fuck it.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you despite your self-pity at the prospect of always making yourself available for her no matter the time. It’s a coincidence, you tell yourself. The two of you have many of those. You press the play icon on the video and it expands to the full screen. The camera shakes a little, then steadies to show half of Kafka’s body from an inclined angle and part of her face, peach lips on display. She’s wearing a strapless dress, the kind only worn to impress, with a pearl necklace over her collarbone; it’s your first time seeing her in something other than casual clothes. You have to admit that you wish you could’ve seen the whole outfit, if only to… You don’t know. 

Kafka is sitting on a bed judging by the white sheets you can spot, and you blink several times at the unmistakable outline of her cock and hard nipples through the material of her dress. You watch in disbelief as she pulls the fabric up to her waist, revealing the garter belt around one of her thighs. Her hand slithers between her breasts and down her stomach to finally disappear under her clothes, but the way she begins stroking herself is purposely obvious. The head of her cock creates a tent meant to remind you of how big she is, and she pumps her shaft steadily, her lips parting slightly to let out low hums of pleasure. You stare, unmoving, unaware of your pulse’s quicker pace as Kafka jerks off on video, the erotic tone of her long moans filling your bedroom, and you don’t register turning up the volume a bit more. Her hand speeds up a touch, you think she must have already been hard before recording because she clearly won’t last much longer, but instead of rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all, you find yourself hoping she’ll take off that dress and give you a real show. Kafka’s breathing becomes heavier, her moans less controlled, and from this angle, you notice the movement of her hips eager to meet each stroke along her cock. Her thumb swipes over her sensitive tip and her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth at the pleasant sensation. Not a single word is uttered, you can’t hear anything in the background either— not that you were listening for it— it’s just the sinful sounds of her throaty hums and her fingers around her dick. Half a minute passes before her breath hitches in a sharp gasp, and you know she’s going to come right before she does. Your thighs squeeze together at the breathy moan that spills from her mouth, her hand still gently stroking herself. Her lips stretch into that teasing smile you can picture with your eyes closed, and the video ends. 

You’re harshly pulled from the daze you were in, staring at your phone. You don’t know what to think, she ignores you for a week then sends you a video of her masturbating at two in the morning with nothing else attached. You can’t deny that it had the desired effect on you; your body feels hotter under your sleeping clothes and your thighs are still pressed together to ignore the throb between them, but once again you attempt to figure out the reasoning behind what she does and come up empty. There’s no use in trying to pry open a steel safe that is sealed shut, so why do you try over and over like you have nothing better to do? Why show up with blowtorches and lock picks when your presence is unwanted inside?

Kafka uses you for pleasure, and you use her the same. That is the nature of your relationship. So, you decide to take that video at face value and press replay. Leaning back against the headboard, you bite your cheek as Kafka’s hand travels up and down her veiled cock while your own restlessly traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. It wanders up your body to cup one breast under your shirt, thumb softly circling a stiffening nipple. You pinch it between two fingers at the same time Kafka lets out a pretty moan and you feel arousal dampening your underwear at the various stimuli. The video ends before you can move on to your thighs and you have to replay it again, and again, to properly build up your orgasm before you’re needy enough to slip a hand under your sticky panties. Your middle finger applies pressure on your puffy clit in tight little circles, jolts of pleasure shooting through you and tightening your stomach.

Eyes half-lidded, you forget all about your work to prioritize the need in your cunt, unconsciously matching Kafka’s pace and wishing she was there to take care of you the way only she knows how. Your hips move with the fingers that rub between your wet folds in a messy pattern. You breathe in sharply through your mouth when one of them finds your clit again and firmly toys with it. You’re so aroused, so wet and needy, but watching Kafka’s playful performance through a phone screen with only half of her body shown and her cock hidden from sight isn’t enough. Desperation builds within your lower belly as you inch a finger past your entrance, barely biting back a breathy moan at the feeling. It sinks in effortlessly, so you add another after adjusting to the slight stretch of it rubbing your inner walls. Your other hand holds the phone closer to your face like that will make Kafka seem more tangible. You pump two digits into your pussy, coating them in your arousal, and it feels so good, has your thighs spreading further apart, but it’s not enough. 

A frustrated sigh leaves you. You don’t think before exiting the video and pressing the video call button. The line rings once, twice, and your fingers slip out of you as you wait to see if it’ll connect. After a few more seconds, you choose to save face and go to hang up just as it connects with the other line and Kafka’s smirking face comes into view. You blame the stutter of your chest on your arousal. She blows smoke through her mouth and faces away from the camera for a moment to put out the cigarette you caught her smoking. She’s in casual clothes once again, and by the lighting, you infer that it’s likely afternoon wherever she is. That video she sent must have been filmed earlier than the time it was received, it might also be an older one from before you met. You mistake your disappointment for annoyance. 

“What is wrong with you?” Your stern voice has a shaky edge to it that Kafka definitely notices. Her smile widens an inch. 

“You look a little… flushed. Saw something you like?”

“Fuck you. It’s almost three in the morning.”

“Is that how late it is there? Mmm, it slipped my mind.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that,” you put down the phone for an instant, pulling your pyjamas down your legs to toss them onto the bed. You bring the device back up and recline on the pillows, holding it high enough for Kafka to have a view of your torso and the stiff nipples poking through your half-ridden shirt. 

Kafka’s lowered gaze unapologetically trails down your upper body. You cup your breast, softly kneading the soft mound between your fingers, and watch her eyes darken with desire.

“I can’t come over.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to. Just need to hear you.”

“Cute. What if I’m not alone?” Her tone is teasing but she does look up from the screen as if someone could walk by and catch you touching yourself. 

“Figure it out.”

“Bossy… And so aroused, aren’t you? From a simple video, no less.”

You let the confident drawl of her words wash over you, ignoring her attempts at riling you up further to focus on the familiar pitch of her voice. It’s rough, intentionally slowed to keep people’s attention solely on what she has to say and control the pace of the conversation, dripping like syrup. You relax into the mattress and let your hand wander down the valley of your breasts, caressing the curves of your stomach. You’re already turned on and aching for release, each brush of your fingertips against your skin requires restraint not to slip a hand between your thighs and circle your clit. Your little show seems to give Kafka a taste of her own medicine, she observes you for a while, her gaze piercing through the veil of lust over her irises. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I would if you talked me through it,” you reply, expectant, lips parting as your hand teasingly disappears below the camera to massage the flesh of your inner thigh. 

Kafka hums, amused and intrigued. You’re sure she can tell how worked up you are and is debating helping you or leaving you wanting. Then she moves, the camera following her every step, and walks somewhere you hope is a secluded room. You don’t recognize her surroundings, she seems to be inside a building but the phone is too close to her face to show anything else properly.

“Did I wake you?” She asks on the way, barely looking away from the screen to watch where she’s going and instead focusing on how your hand travels back up your abdomen, lifting your shirt and revealing more of your chest as it goes. 

“No, but it was a welcomed distraction. Walk faster.”

Kafka laughs at your impatience, the sound lighter than her usual arrogant or mocking chuckles and betraying her genuine amusement. There’s a fluttering sensation behind the walls of your heart like the wings of a panicked bird. 

“Why? You in a hurry?”

“Yes.”

Kafka enters a room drowning in sunlight, brighter than wherever she was before. You hear the sound of the door closing, then a lock turning before she walks further into the room to sit at what you presume is a desk. The phone is placed far enough from her frame to allow you a full view of her upper body over the wooden surface and the twin-sized bed behind her. The covers are unruffled, the walls barren and white, and you think she might be in a simple hotel room. She leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and resting her cheek against the back of her hand. The index finger of her free hand absentmindedly taps the desk’s surface, mirroring her steady heartbeat. She gazes at you like you’re the most interesting sight she’s seen in days. 

“You look so needy… desperate for my touch.” Kafka drinks in the image of you sprawled on your bed, the lower half of your left breast exposed to her hungry eyes. Her mind conjures up many ways she would touch you if she were there, feeling your stumbling breaths in the crook of her neck. “What’s the matter? Can’t come without me anymore?”

Irritation swirls in your gut, mixing with the arousal pooling in your belly at her nonchalant arrogance. Her self-assurance infuriates you mostly because it’s not entirely unfounded; you do wish she was present in person to fuck your worries away but she could be on the other side of the planet for all you know, doing Aeons know what. You don’t have a retort, and you’re in no mood to be teased any more than you felt watching that short video of Kafka stroking herself. 

“It goes faster this way,” you lie.

“Mmm… Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not there.”

Her words make your pussy throb. You bite your lip, adjusting your hold on the phone and lowering the camera so she can’t see past your mouth but has a better view of your body. From this angle, the waistband of your underwear is visible just under your stomach. Your fingers dig into your pliable breast, kneading the mound like she usually does to you, occasionally toying with the nipple for the pleasant sensation that ripples through you and causes your thighs to twitch. Kafka’s intense gaze, deeply pleased at your immediate compliance, excites you like nothing else. You know she’s not as unaffected by the sight as she seems to be, her finger drums on the desk a tad faster when you twist your nipple and part your lips to exhale audibly. Your hand leaves your chest and you lower your phone further to follow its path across your torso until it reaches the band of your already slick panties. You sneak a finger under the thin material and Kafka speaks up again.

“Take them off. Let me see you.”

Hesitation takes hold of you for a second, and then you obey her sultry command, shifting to pull the underwear past your hips and down to your ankles. You angle the phone to provide her with a clear view of your wet cunt, breath hitching as Kafka unconsciously wets her lips and the drumming noise stops completely. She’s a statue of desire on the other side of the screen, her heavy stare locked on your fingers spreading your lower lips apart, puffy clit on display. You don’t wait for any other instructions, your need is too great to go unchecked a minute longer; you use your index to circle the bud in quick, desperate motions. Your body’s temperature rises a few degrees and a short, involuntary moan spills past your lips. Your eyes are tempted to close under such stimulation but you want to see Kafka’s every microexpression, every twitch of her mouth and fall of her chest, the flex of her hand against her cheek and the movement of her irises following your ministrations.

“Are you picturing me? My hands on your body, touching you just how you like it?”

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth to seal another soft moan. “Yeah…” 

Kafka’s fingers are skilled and precise, stimulating the most sensitive parts of you, some of which didn’t exist before she touched you. She’s learned you by heart as one does a music sheet and makes you sing in a way impossible to replicate alone, an artist missing their accompaniment. You imagine her palms brushing across your chest, teasingly squeezing one breast while her lips ghost over the skin of your jaw, trailing wet kisses up to your cheek. You imagine her slender fingers sinking into your inner thighs to keep them spread before her, drinking in the erotic sight you create under her. You swipe at your clit, each breath heavier than the one before, and observe her body language; how she uncrosses her legs and her hand on the desk disappears beneath the surface, how she tucks away a stray strand of hair so it doesn’t obstruct her vision, the apparent lust in her eyes almost turning their color a shade closer to magenta. Her attention feels like the many cocktails you drank this last week, smoldering down your throat and intoxicating your every nerve. It tightens your lower belly and makes you throb, entrance gushing even when she’s likely thousands of miles away. Your orgasm builds and builds, pleasure steadily mounting and promising salvation the closer you get to the edge. 

If her camera was positioned better, you would have seen her pointer and middle fingers drawing circles on her thighs not unlike how you’re stimulating your aching clit, slowly inching higher until they softly stroke the prominent swell over her shorts. You would have been privy to them slipping under her clothes, past her boxers, to caress along her cock from tip to base and draw a sharp intake of breath from her. You’re too lost in the pleasure to notice her next swallow as she wraps a hand around herself and masturbates in tandem with your heavy exhales. Just as you did, she pictures your wandering hands, your warm tongue licking broad stripes up her cock and the quiver of your brow when you struggle to take her into your mouth. You look up at her prettily through wet eyelashes, eager to please, and you suck her dry as she paints your throat white. 

Your camera trembles, you struggle to keep it still while you work to make yourself come, digits stuttering on your clit with quiet moans on the tip of your tongue. You’re so close that you barely compute what Kafka is saying.

“You look about ready to come. Are you going to come just from the sight of me?”

She sounds way too pleased for your liking but you can’t bother to care at this moment, all that matters is your impending release. You nod quickly.

“Yeah? Let me hear you.”

“Fuck…” you manage to breathe out, hips desperately bucking into your hand, chasing relief from the pressure building in your belly. 

You don’t contain your pitiful sounds of pleasure at Kafka’s request and a soft cry rips from your throat as you finally burst. You come hard, thighs closing together and trapping your hand between them, jolts of pleasure running down your body like a thousand little shivers until you’re a shaking mess on the bed. Eyes screwed shut with the intensity of your orgasm, you miss Kafka’s parted lips and unyielding stare roaming over your arching form, her thumb applying mind-dizzying pressure on her leaking tip under her shorts to tease herself. You take a minute to calm yourself, she takes in the movement of your breasts rising and falling with your chest, imagining wetting them with her tongue so they glitter stunningly in the light when she pulls away. She strokes herself faster and the sound of her satisfied hum helps you realize what she’s doing.

“Hah… This is what you wanted, huh?” You bring your phone higher, circling your areola with two cum-coated fingertips and relishing in the way her eyelids droop. “Sending me that little video to tease me so I’d call and help you jerk off?” 

Kafka’s low chuckle turns into a pleased sigh at the end as she touches herself just right, smearing pre-cum all over her throbbing cock. 

“I wanna see.”

She picks up the camera and angles it so you have a view of her cock straining against her clothes. The silk of her glove is heaven along her skin, and with the microphone closer to her face you can hear the shallow breaths she releases on her journey to relief. No doubt the friction is dulling her mind, reducing her to her urgent need to come. Your tongue flicks over your upper lip and Kafka almost groans, still watching you intently like she’s making up scenarios of you on your knees with your head bobbing up and down her thick cock. The next time she takes you is already planned out in detail, you’ll be so utterly ruined that you won’t be able to beg her for more.

“I’d get you there quicker if you were here.”

“Mmh… Soon.”

You refrain from rolling her eyes at her obvious lie. Spoken words out of her lips mean nothing, especially with pleasure fogging her mind. Kafka’s following sharp gasp lets you know she’s close to falling apart; you lift your sticky fingers to your mouth, making a show of licking them clean how you would her shaft, and this time she doesn’t suppress the throaty, blissful noise that was sitting on her tongue. She sears your performance in the back of her eyelids and pumps her cock with purpose, orgasm imminent. Her hips jerk upward as her release crashes into her in toe-curling waves of pleasure, hand stuttering around her length and cum staining her underwear and glove. She moans unashamedly, knowing what it does to you, and her eyes flutter shut only for the instant it takes to compose herself afterwards. Her hand leaves her shorts, she brings her wet fingers to the light and smiles up at you. 

“Thanks.” Without any underlying cockiness, there’s nothing but appreciation when she addresses you. 

You don’t meet her gaze, averting your eyes while you sit up and smooth down your hair. Now that the tension in your muscles has dissipated, you’re reminded of why you were up this late in the first place and the work that still needs to be completed before work some hours later. You sigh tiredly, but your mind is clearer and you feel a spike of energy to finish your presentation, invigorated from your previous orgasm. Maybe you should be the one thanking her.

“What’s wrong?” 

You look back at Kafka. “I hate my job.”

“You should quit, then.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

“…And do what?” You ask flatly.

“Whatever you want.”

You stare at her momentarily, wondering what kind of reality she must live in where everything is available for the taking. Your studies were largely influenced by the constant pressure your parents put on you to get a sustainable income, and you were too preoccupied with your grades to ponder the what-ifs. They sacrificed quite a bit to have you enroll in one of the Intelligentsia Guild’s schools, your academic success was the least you could do to settle that debt somehow. You don’t care for mechanics but it was a relatively easy subject to study, so you picked it. You’re good at what you do, despite this job not being what you dreamed of doing for the rest of your life. Now, you’re not sure if you even have dreams. You have some skills, sure, but what do you want?

Kafka’s looking at you like she’s figuring you out. You don’t know what she aims to find but a childish part of you hope she likes it. You shake your head as if the thoughts would evaporate with the movement and stand from the bed.

“I should finish my work,” you say on the way to the bathroom, flicking the light open. 

“I need to go too.” Kafka pauses, seemingly considering something, then continues, “Do you have plans on Thursday?”

The question is unexpected, it takes you a few seconds to come up with an answer. “Apart from work, I don’t think so. Why?”

“You should stay home. Skip work.”

“Why would I do that…?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” The reply leaves you before you can think about it, but it’s the truth. Kafka has never given you any reason to trust her up till now, you don’t even believe half of the things she says. Trusting her for anything would be incredibly foolish.

Her eyes narrow a bit, though that small smile stays on her lips. Your confusion must show on your face, and you have the impression that her demeanor has gotten more serious. 

“Trust me now. I have to leave, but I hope you take my advice. If not… Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Wh—?”

The video call disconnects. Did she just hang up on you?!

After a quick shower and a change of sheets, you end up completing your assignment in around 40 minutes and getting a few hours of sleep before you have to leave for work. The day is long, and your anxiety intensifies with each passing hour but you present your project idea with little to no problem. The rest of the week passes quickly with no further messages from Kafka, but you stop expecting her to hit you up for anything other than sex so you get better at hiding your disappointment, enough that you’re able to focus on your job like the development of the past two weeks never happened. On Thursday, you wake up for work and sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone open on the private conversation between you and Kafka, debating with yourself whether you should ask her to clarify her last words to you. You try to recall her expression when she said them. Reading her is hard, her behavior is too well-rehearsed to be peeled to pieces by anybody— and you guess that is what you are; anybody. You feel like an idiot as you dial your office to call off work. 

With nowhere to go, you spend the day at home watching shitty TV until the sky begins its descent in the sky, catching up on shows you previously had no time for. You do go out for groceries in the afternoon to cook something nice for yourself once dinner comes around, but your day is mostly boring and uneventful. You’re lying on the couch, half-lidded eyes barely focusing on the bright TV screen as it plays the same sitcom you’ve been watching for almost two hours when your phone rings. The noise wakes you, you blink rapidly and reach for the device, accepting the call without looking at the contact ID. 

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Himeko’s musical voice sounds from the other line. 

“Hime?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

You rub your eyes with a hand and sit up to pause your show. “No, not really. How’s trailblazing going?”

“It was kinda tough the last few weeks but nothing we couldn’t handle. What about you? Last time we talked you were pretty busy too.”

“I’m good, work has been a bit demanding lately because of this secret project thing I can’t really talk about, but nothing eventful has happened, except…” You cut yourself off. 

“What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh? Now I definitely want to know. Let me guess… It’s that lady again.”

“Lady?” You repeat with a laugh, “There is nothing ladylike about the way she f—”

“Ew. I get it.” You hear shuffling on the other side, like Himeko is walking from one place to another. “You were complaining about her last time, what happened now?”

“More complaints.”

“I can’t understand why you won’t end things if all you’re going to do is get annoyed every time you see each other. Learn to walk away from unnecessary grievances, they only pollute your thoughts.”

You stand from the couch and walk towards the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out the stuff you’ll need for dinner. “The sex is really good. Like, great. Like, mind-blowing. Toe-curling, even.” You can almost hear Himeko’s eye roll. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I don’t know why she has to be so infuriating. It’s obviously a case of big ego, but there’s something more in there. She just won’t let me see it.”

“You’re practically strangers. No wonder.”

“She’s been inside me. I wouldn’t call us strangers.”

“Do you know anything about her apart from her name?”

You pause with one hand around a carton of heavy cream. A door slides shut on the phone. You don’t have to think long to know the answer to that question, but you’re a little ashamed of it. Ashamed and disappointed, because it’s not by lack of trying; Kafka treats every attempt at getting to know her beyond the bounds of your relationship like a battlefield where she has to lie to survive. There’s a constant distance between you no matter how physically close she gets and it’s beginning to drive you mad. It was hot at first, the air of mystery around her is what drew you to her in that clothing store. Months later, it’s simply an obstacle you can’t jump over.

“Fine,” you reply with a sigh, closing the fridge and putting the carton on the counter, “you have a point. But it’s not like I haven’t tried, she just…”

“Doesn’t value you for anything other than sex?”

You don’t respond, mouth curving in a frown. That hurt your feelings, even though you know Himeko is only being honest because she hates this situation for you. She disapproved from the start, said you weren’t the type to have no strings attached, and she was right. You didn’t listen; Kafka is a splash of excitement in an otherwise pretty boring life, unraveling her takes skill and effort, and it is much more gratifying than a research well done. However… perhaps it’s time you do.

“Was that too far?” Himeko asks, voice soft. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than someone who brushes you off constantly unless they want something from you.”

“I know…” 

There’s a sudden knock at your door and you furrow your brows as you look at the time on your phone. You’re not expecting anyone and you’re not a fan of people showing up unannounced in general, still, you start making your way out of the kitchen to the front door. 

“We had an agreement, though,” you continue, “so it’s not like she owes me anything. I’m the one asking for too much.”

“You want to make connections with people and that is a beautiful thing. If she can’t see that, then she isn’t worth your time.”

You reach the front door, unlock it and turn the handle. “You’re probably r—”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue. In the hallway of your apartment building stands a panting Kafka, coat in one hand while the other is pressed hard against her bloodstained shoulder. Her white shirt is tainted with the seeping liquid which turns her glove a deep violet color, blood spatter over her torso and some spread onto her cheek as if she attempted to wipe it off. She’s hunched forward instead of her usual straight posture and the sunglasses over her tussled hair are cracked. You’re frozen where you are, a dozen thoughts buzz inside your head like restless bees and keep you from uttering a word; dread, worry, confusion, you can’t name them all. You have trouble computing what you’re looking at. Kafka looks up at you with the small smile she wears like armor. Even now, her nonchalance annoys you.

“Hey.”

The sound of Himeko calling your name over the phone and asking you if everything’s alright shakes you from your stupor. Your movements are slow, delayed, as you turn your head towards the device close to your ear and speak, “I’ll call you back.”

You hang up without hearing the response. 

[pagelets]

17- S. J

synopsis: Sim Jaeyun lived next door to the Kim twins. One day they were planning sleepovers and on the other he was on an airplane moving to Australia. 17 years later, she found a man called Jake standing in her living room. An old friendship rekindles and a new love arises.

Disclaimer: nsfw, there's a lot of smut here!!

Inspired by 17 by Pink Sweat$ (but not really, lol).

A/n: I think this one is longer than the others (not sure, tho). Enjoy!

Kim Sunoo and his twin sister lived next door to Sim Jaeyun. They knew each other since the Kims still shared a placenta and Jaeyun was only a few months old. When kids, they used to play everyday, to plan sleepovers, they even walked together at school, almost as if the 3 of them were 1. But one day, when Jaeyun was 7 and the other 2 were 6, the older one's father had to move to Australia cause of his job and, of course, he and his mother had to go too. 

The day Jaeyun came to the Kims’ residence to say goodbye, the Kim girl, as he called her,  gave him a necklace “When you feel scared or alone, you hold this necklace and remember I’ll always be with you” he smiled, then repeated what she said “You’ll always be with me” she nodded, then the two kids hugged, the tightest hug they ever had given to someone till that point “Come back one day” “I’ll” “Do you promise?” “I do”, they interlaced their pinky fingers and the pact was made.

…

17 years later:

“KIM SUNOO, I SWEAR I’M GOING TO KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T GET OUT OF THIS BATHROOM IN THE NEXT 3 SECONDS!” she screamed at her twin brother through the bathroom door. 3 seconds passed. Her threat didn’t seem to have any effect. She started to knock the door uncontrollably. Knock after knock she got angrier and angrier. Till one of the knocks hit the air “You’re going to hurt yourself like that” “Finally!” “You can't rush perfection” Sunoo said with his bag under his armpit, he was right, his skin glowed and his lips were so moisturized that if someone stepped on them, they’d slip and fall. “Get the fuck out!” “Watch your mouth, young lady” he was 16 minutes older than her “You know what? Sharing an apartment with you is my second biggest regret” “What’s the first?” “Sharing an uterus with you!” Sunoo’s mouth turned into an “o” and his hand rested on his chest “I'm offended” “Good!”, then she closed the bathroom door to finally take her shower. Sunoo smiled and with the cutest tone he could make, he hummed “I love youuu” she opened the door and put her head on the gap “Love you too, loser” and closed the door again while Sunoo hopped like a bunny to his room.

…

Half an hour later they met again in the kitchen, while Sunoo finished his breakfast and she finished drying her hair with a towel “Oh! I forgot to mention” “What’s it, Sunny?” “Jaeyun is coming back to Korea” “Jaeyun?” she opened the fridge to get some orange juice “Yes! Sim Jaeyun, our childhood neighbor”. She poured the juice on a glass and sipped it as the memory would magically pop into her head “Jaeyun?” “The one who went to Australia when we’re around 8 to 9 years old” “Hum!” she nodded “Oh, yes, I remember him. Wow! It’s been like what? 13 or 14 years?”, she pondered “17” Sunoo corrected her, she looked at her brother with a deadly gaze “Do you still have contact with him?” “I never actually stopped. I mean, after Facebook was invented, of course” “Who’s on Facebook nowadays?, now the older one threw her a deadly gaze. “Anyway, I think we should invite him to stay over while he doesnt find his own place” “Oh! Well, I think it’s ok as long as I don’t have to share my room and he doesn’t take a lifetime in the bathroom like you do”, Sunoo rolled his eyes while she washed the glass she had used. When she finished, she kissed her brother’s cheek “I’m leaving now or I’ll be late to my shift” “Ok, have a nice day!” “You too!” she blew a kiss and left.

…

Her job was definitely going to kill her. She loved to be a nurse but, yeah, she was going to die before completing 24. 12 hours inside of a hospital would kill anyone, right? She opened the apartment door, hoping Sunoo had left dinner to her. “Sunny, I’m home!”, she said without looking at the living room while she took her coat off. When she turned around she saw a handsome man standing there. A tall man, who had black, long hair and a silly smile on his face was standing in her living room and she didn’t have a clue why “You… are not, Sunny”, he giggled “No. Guess, I’m not”, she tilted her head, wondering why he had such] a funny accent. “Should I turn around and run cause you’re going to murder me or should I murder my brother for not telling me we were having guests tonight?” the stranger laughed “Sorry, hum…” he approached her, slowly, and stretched his hand “Hi, I’m Jake” “Jake?” “Yes”, she shook his hand, still confused “I don’t think I know you. Are you Sunoo’s friend?” “Oh, yeah! I used to be friends with you too” she furrowed her brows, then lifted them “Oh! Jaeyun?!” he nodded “Sim Jaeyun?!” “Yeah, that’s me” “Oh my god! Hi!” she shook his hand with more enthusiasm “Why haven’t you said it before?” “Well, I did” “No. You said you’re Jake. I don’t know any Jakes” “It’s how people call me now” “Oh…” Sunoo appeared in the living room with 2 bowls, 2 spoons and an ice cream pot “Oh, hi! You’re here!” “Hey…” she let go of Jake’s hand “We’re having mint choco to celebrate Jake’s comeback. It has lasagna for you in the oven” “Can you help me with the lasagna?” “Why? Are you 6 years ollll…” but she grabbed Sunoo’s ear and pulled him to the kitchen with her

“Auch, auch, auch! What’s up with you?” “Didn't it occur to you that I would like to know he was coming!?” she whispered “I told you he was coming!” he whispered back “I didn’t think it was today!” “I’m sorry, maybe I forgot to mention that” “Maybe?!” “I did. I’m sorry” she huffed “What’s the big deal?” “I could have washed my underwear that is on the dirty laundry, or vacuumed the carpet, or even dressed better after leaving my shift!” Sunoo laughed “Calm down. I don’t think Jake noticed any of that” “What’s with that new name, huh?”  she said, grabbing the lasagna from the oven “It’s how people called him in Brisbane” “Brisbane? Wasn’t he in Australia?” Sunoo laughed more “Brisbane is in Australia” “Oh…” “Relax, baby sister, you will enjoy having Jake around” “Yeah, I’ll love having one more person to fight for the bathroom” “You’re too grumpy tonight” Sunoo gave his back to her to come back to the other room “Where are you going?” “I’m going to eat my mint choco & green tea ice cream” “Ugh!” “Stop with it and come eat with us”. She ate in the kitchen, she wanted distance from that mint choco. 

After she washed the dishes, she joined the 2 men in the living room. “Where’s Sunoo?” “He went to his room” “Hum…” she sat at Jake’s side on the sofa. “Do you really like that shit?” “Which shit?” “Mint choco”, she pointed to the ice cream pot on the center table. “Oh! Not really. It tastes like toothpaste” “I know!” “At least my breath is fresh now”,  she laughed “Why did you eat it if you don’t like it?” “Sunoo was so happy to see me again. I didn’t want to ruin the celebration” “That’s very sweet of you, but now you’ll have to eat it every time” “Ah… At least he will be happy, right?” she smiled, then nodded in disbelief “You’re too nice in my opinion” she stood up “I’m going to sleep now, don’t you dare linger in the bathroom!” “Linger…” “Yeah, if you take too long to shower and do skin care, you go after me cause I’ve to work, capisci?” “Capisci” she nodded and started to make her way to the bedroom “Good ni…” “I’m not jobless if you want to know” she turned to him “Really?” he nodded, she crossed her arms  “What do you do for a living?” “I’m a chef” “A chef?” “Yes” “Oh…” “When I moved to Brisbane, my mother started to run a restaurant. While she loves managing, I love cooking” “And are you a good chef?” “You tell me. The lasagna you eat for dinner, I made it” she uncrossed her arms “Oh! Is that why you came back to Korea?” “A korean food critic tried my food in the restaurant I worked in Sidney and invited me to be the head chef in his new restaurant in Seoul” “Wow!” “But worry not, I won’t block the bathroom. I take night shifts” he winked at her. she parted her lips “T-thank you…” she cleaned her throat “I’ll sleep now” she pointed to the corridor “Thanks for the meal and… good night” he chuckled “Good night, Kim girl”.

…

A week passed, she had a day off and she decided to spend it on her bed. She spent almost all day inside of her room alternating between sleeping and watching an episode of Bridgerton. But around 4 pm, she got hungry. So she decided to go to the kitchen and grab a snack. She opted for a bowl of fruit loops without milk and a cup of orange juice. She also decided to pass by the living room to let Sunoo know she was alive, but all she could find was Jake watching television. When he spotted her on the doorframe, he paused the movie “Hey! You are at home” “Yes…” “Haven’t seen you all day” “I was in my room all day, after my morning shower” “That’s why, then”, she nodded. “Is Sunny here?” “He went out with… hum…. a tall guy who has a deep voice. With an eyebrow piercing” “Ni-ki, you mean?” “Yeah. Riki… I guess” “It must be, they are very close” he nodded, turning back to his movie. “And you don’t have to work today?” “Only at night” “Oh! Right. I forgot” he nodded before unpausing the movie again. “What are you watching?” “Alien: Romulus” “Is that good?” “This is what I’m trying to figure out” “Sorry” she downed her head and walked toward her room “Do you…” she stopped “...want to watch it with me?” “You don’t mind?” “It’s your home” “I’d love to join you” “Good” he moved on the sofa to make space for her. 

…

For the next 2 hours, Jake just jumped and hid. She wasn’t a big fan of scary movies but Jake didn’t even compare “I’m so embarrassed” “Don’t be. Is no shame to be scared of fake aliens” “Yes, it’s” she giggled. “You used to be scared of those too, do you remember?” “Oh, yes. My mom got crazy with that fear of mine…”, she flashbacked of when Sunoo got the habit of scaring her with a plastic alien he had. “...but those were good times” “Yes, they were” “You know, it was very sad for Sunny and I when you left” “For me too. I wish I didn’t have to” “But it was good, you found your passion, you learned English…” “Yeah… I missed you” “Did you?” “A lot. Did you miss me?” “Honestly, I didn’t even remember of you till 7 days ago” “Oh…” “But when I was a kid I felt your absence” he looked at her, then smiled “You’ve become a beautiful woman” she blushed “Thanks… You are not the weird kid you were too” Jake laughed “Sorry, I meant…” “No, no. I was kinda weird, wasn’ I?” “Yeah, but… you are very handsome now”

“Thank you” they looked at each other for a few moments, feeling the tension in the air, before Jake said something “Can I ask you a question?” “You can ask” “It doesn’t mean you’re going to answer” “Exactly”, he chuckled “Ok. Hum…” he licked his lips, those damn lips, she thought, without being able to take her eyes from them “Can I… kiss you?” “I thought you were never going to ask!”, and quickly she jumped on his lap, straddling him and blending their lips. It was a hot and messy kiss, full of desperation. She was keeping her desire for him for 7 long days already, watching Jake walk around the house with nothing but sweatpants (which marked a lot his member by the way), showing off his sculpted abdomen, biceps, back, everything. And that smirk on his lips, damn, she was on the edge of going crazy.  Jake on the other hand was keeping his desire for her for even longer, damn fucking 4 years already, since Sunoo shared pics of them together on the beach and he got enchanted by her beauty. The desire only grew in the past 7 days, in which he was around her and her bittersweet personality. Maybe for him, that kiss meant more than a whole week of seeing her wearing thigh tank tops and short sleeping shorts without being able to do anything but jerk himself off in the shower after coming back from work and everyone was already sleeping.

Their breaths got shorter and shorter as the kiss deepened, she dipped her fingertips on his black and long and beautiful hair, while Jake’s hands were on her nape and hip to keep her stable and close enough to him. But he didn’t keep them there for long, soon they travelled to her shoulders and started to rip the strains of her pajama, till her breasts almost jumped off the piece of cloth. She moaned inside of his mouth when she felt his finger tips touching the skin right above her breasts.

He pulled away the kiss to lick the soft skin of her neck, leaving a stain there “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked in a sexy tone, against her ear, his breath causing her shivers. She nodded “Give me more. In other places. Mark me everywhere you want to”, Jake smirked and pulled her top down to finally free her breast, they were so round and soft, almost like it would break if he just looked at it “I’ll try to be gentle” “Don’t hold yourself back” he smirked and planted one more kiss on her neck. Before dipping down to suck her nipples. She moaned, gripping on the hair of his nape. Her hips started to move as a reflex from the stimulation he was giving to her, and suddenly she found herself grinding on Jake’s hard cock while he had his mouth on his breast, doing an amazing job with his tongue, she had to admit. Jake noticed what she was doing, so he grabbed her hips and helped to move it. It didn’t take long for them to start feeling their edge approaching, “Jake…” she muttered, breathless “Fuck…”, he cursed “...I’m almost there…” he thighed the grip on her hips, groaning the last words “...Don’t think I can last much longer”, she smirked, slowing down the pace of her grinding, making slow circles with her hips, just to see him begging for her. Jake threw his head back, letting a moan escape his lips, surrendering completely. “Please....”, he tried to speak “... faster”, she took a few more moments to tease him, but she fasted the pace, for both of theirs sake.

She grinded faster again on his hard cock till it wasn’t that hard anymore and his underwear was filled with his release. She muffled Jake’s last groan with a kiss on his lips while she continued to grind till she hit her edge. Jake helped her, slipping a hand inside of her shorts and underwear, rubbing her clit “Damn, you’re wet”, she nodded, closing her eyes shut. He rubbed, she grinded, till she cummed in her lace panties, letting out a sweet moan, the sweetest he had ever heard, before collapsing on Jake’s body. He gently rubbed her back while they caught their breaths. Jake opened his mouth to say something but at the same moment, they heard the door unlocking “Shit!” she mumbled before jumping off Jake’s lap and wearing her top again “Put a pillow on it!”, she said referring to his boner, which has not softened completely yet. “Oh! Ok”, he obeyed her just in time cause Sunoo and Ni-ki just appeared in the living room. “Hi, guys!” Sunoo said with his typical sweet voice tone “Hey!” Jake greeted them “Hi, Sunny. Hi, Ni-ki” Ni-ki leaned on the couch and kissed her face, they were almost siblings, the amount of time Sunoo and him spent together for the past 5 years “Wanna play some game?” “Sure! Let’s go to my room” “Ok” she stood up and Sunoo sat where she was before “Why were you guys doing?”, she held her laugh. “We watched a horror movie” “Oh, I hate them. She’s weak for horror movies too” “I did better than Jake” “Did you?!” Oh, wish I was here so I could have seen it” she smiled, definitely Sunoo didn’t wish he was there. “Hey, is it a hickey?” Ni-ki said, pointing to her neck. Jake bit his lip to hold a smile back, Sunoo made an “o” with his mouth, Ni-ki laughed and she looked at him like she would murder him right there in front of everyone. “Who gave you that hickey?!” Sunoo asked, she was his younger sister after all, “It’s none of your business” she turned around and walked to her room “Hold on!” Sunoo followed “Wait! Come back here! Are you seeing someone?” she slammed the door “Are you using protection?”

Ni-ki and Jake laughed, then the japanese man sat on the couch “Wanna play some game?” “Sure!” “Good” Ni-ki said, already turning the ps5 on. “It was you, wasn’t it?”, Ni-ki asked after a few minutes “What?” “The hickey. It was you, right?” “Why do you think it was me?” “It seemed fresh. Your hair is sort of messy and her cheeks were red” “You’re a good observer” “I know”, he said without taking his eyes from the screen “Relax, I won’t tell Sunoo” “Thought you guys were very close” “We are. I’m also close to her and it is none of my business who she’s letting suck her neck or not. Plus, you seem to be nice” “Well… thank you”. Ni-ki nodded “But for God’s sake, do not do things on the sofa, it’s a communitary furniture! I mean, I sit here too, bro”, Jake blushed “We didn’t…”, then Ni-ki started to laugh “I’m just messing around with you, man. It’s not even my house” “Oh…”, Jake forced a smile, still afraid of Ni-ki “Ok” “Relax, man. It’s all good”, the japanese man poked the other’s shoulder and they continued to play in silence.

…

Later that night after Ni-ki left and Sunoo went to his bedroom, Jake knocked on her door before leaving to work “Jake…” “Hi. Are you ok?” “Yeah” “Did you and Sunoo make amends?”, she nodded “After a long lecture, yes” “Sorry about that” “It’s fine. Not your fault, I blame Ni-ki who can’t keep his mouth shut” “He said he just wanted to tease you. He didn’t imagine Sunoo would care that much” “Yeah, me neither” “So that makes us 3…”, he placed his hands  on his pockets and looked at his feet. “That’s exactly why I shouldn’t be here, about to ask you what I want to ask you” “Do you want to do dry humping again but without clothes?” “I…” he blinked twice and looked at her again, “...well, I wouldn’t complain if you’re up to it but… no, it isn’t what I want to ask” “What’s it, then?” “I would like to take you on a date” “A date?” “Yes. I can cook for you and we can get to know each other better. And if the sex part happens, it’s good too”, she blushed, embarrassed that he wanted to know more about her when she was thinking about how it would be good to actually ride him. “I… I wasn’t expecting it” “It’s ok if you say no. Can we try the fucking part anyways?” she laughed “No, Jake. I… I’d love to go on a date with you” “Really?” “Yes” “Oh, good! I really was hoping you would say yes” “When and where?” “I have a day off on Monday. Was thinking about going to see a few places during the afternoon, then take you to dinner at night. So… Monday at 7 pm?”, she nodded “It’s a date, Sim Jake” “Ok”, he smiled shyly. “I… I have to go to work now…” “Ok. Have a good night” “You too” “See you tomorrow, Jake”, he smirked, leaning down to say something in her ear “Don’t think too much about me or you will have to dry hump your pillow”, she blushed. Then, as nothing had happened, Jake kissed her face and pulled away “See you”, and left. 

…

3 days passed. 3 days of teasing looks, and a lot of sexual tension between the 2 of them. The things which were an unintentional teasing, like not wearing a shirt and wearing short shorts and thigh blouses, became intentional teasing. Everytime the 2 of them were on the small sofa, Jake made sure to be shirtless and to stick on her body. And she made sure to drop things on the floor even more frequently, so Jake could have a better view of her ass or tits. 3 days after the sofa incident. 3 days after the date invitation. She made sure to switch shifts with one of her colleagues to have proper time to get ready for the date. She was alone at home the whole day, so she hydrated her hair, shaved her legs and armpits, made skin care, put on light makeup, and spent 2 hours deciding which dress she was going to wear. At the end, she chose a black basic one. 

Jake got home around 6pm and in less than an hour, he was ready. He knocked on her door, and when she opened it, he couldn’t even speak “You… you are stunning” “Thank you. You look good too” “Thank you, misses. Shall we go?”, he offered his arm to her “Yes”. On the way there, in Jake’s car, she asked him “You said you were going to cook for me” “I am going to cook for you” “So where are we going? Cause you live with me and unless your hunting was extremely successful, you don’t have any other place to cook” “I have my restaurant” “Isn’t it closed today?” “Exactly. We’re going to have a whole restaurant just for the 2 of us” “That’s cool! None other guy have ever done this to me” “See? I’m not the other ones”, she giggled “Oh, I love that song”, it was “Deja Vu” by Post Malone, “Me too” and they sang along the whole way there.

…

Jake prepared bibimbap for her. According to Ni-ki, it was her favorite meal, and he really enjoyed it as well. The restaurant had a low light vibe, which made it even more romantic. They talked about their childhood together, then about Jake’s in Brisbane and hers in Seoul. “I can’t believe you did it!” “Yeah, but Sunoo deserved it” “Remind me of never eating your Binch biscuits” “Biscuits!?’ “There we go… What do you call it?” “Cookies, man” “Ah! Whatever… Are you ready for dessert?” “Yes! It’s my favorite part” “Can you guess what’s it?” “Hum… Brownies?” “No” “Petit gateau with vanilla ice cream?” “That’s a good one, but no” “If is mint choco I will walk out that door and lock you out of my house”, Jake laughed “No! It’s not mint choco”, he offered his hand to her and guided her to the kitchen. He stood behind her and whispered in her ear “Are you ready?”, she nodded “Ok”, he walked to the fridge, then stood in front of her “Ok, you can open your eyes”, when she did, she saw Jake holding a bowl full of passionfruit mousse “Passionfruit!” “Do you like it?” “I love it!” “That's good news”, she licked her lips, making Jake laugh. “Come here”, he placed the bowl on the counter and held her by the waist to put her sitting near the dessert “There you go”, he reached for a spoon, then placed himself in between her legs, to serve her a portion of the mousse. “So?”, she closed her eyes, threw her head back and moaned “So good”, he served himself a portion, and had the same reaction of her “Delicious” “I always wondered why is this called passionfruit” “Maybe cause if you eat passion fruit you fall in love for the handsome chef who served it to you, right into your beautiful mouth”, she laughed “Yeah, maybe” “So I think we should do it again just in guarantee” “I agree”, she placed her hands on his chest and rubbed up and down while he filled the spoon with another portion. He served her, then served himself “You know what would be cool?” “What?” “Serving yourself with mousse…” “But I am already…”

“...directly from my naked body”, Jake stopped chewing, breathing and thinking. She smirked with the expression he had on his face, looking like his last brain cell had died. But it didn’t last long, soon Jake had a smirk on his face as well “You know you always have the best ideas, right?” “That’s what I keep telling everyone!”. Jake placed the spoon on the counter and grabbed her thighs, pulling them so she would lay on the counter, then he grabbed some mousse with the spoon and placed it on her neck before leaning over her body and, at first licking lightly, but then sucking it from her soft skin. She moaned, the different textures and temperatures made a simple neck sucking be even more delicious and pleasurable. “Did you enjoy it?” “So fucking much” “So I can keep going” “Yes, please”, she muttered, he smirked even naughtily, and took the strains of her dress off her shoulders, to place more mousse on her right collarbone, leaving a mark there when he finished sucking. His next victim was her nipples. She shivered when she felt the cold moussed on it. Again, Jake licked, sucked and marked, earning another sweet moan from her. “You’re in the mood for leaving marks tonight, huh”

“I’m going to mark you. Everywhere. So every other guy you give access to your body, will know who you belong with”, his voice tone changed to something dark and deep. “There’s no other guys, Jake”, she held his head “I have only thought about you since the first night I saw you standing in my living room with a silly smile on your face”, he smiled, dipping down to kiss her passionately. His hands pulled her dress up until he had access to her black lace underwear. “Damn, you’re so sexy”, he muttered, feeling his cock pulsing and hurting of desire “You’re too”, she said, pulling him from the collar of  his black shirt to kiss him while she unbuttoned the piece of cloth. When she finished, she rubbed his abs and chest, up and down, feeling his hot skin, moaning on his mouth. Jake couldn’t take it anymore, neither of them could, so he pulled away from the kiss, unbuckled his belt, opened his black pants and pushed it down enough to take his dick off his Calvin Klein’s boxers, ready to fuck her until she screamed his name. But first he slipped 2 fingers on her, to confirm if she was wet enough “Always very wet for me, babygirl”, she moaned when he moved his fingers inside of her “You…”, she moaned again when he moved his fingers again “...I want you. I need you”, she moved her hips which made Jake smirk “Stop moving your hips”, she moved again “Bad girl, must punish you”, her only response was another hip thrust. He smiled, taking his finger out of her and aligning his member with her entrance. He wanted to push it inside of her at once, but instead, he held her hips so she couldn’t move them and penetrated her with his tip only. She contorted herself under him, trying to hold a moan back, failing. “Don’t you hold your moans back”, he took the tip out, then in again,  “Don’t ever do that again, I want to hear them…” , he took the tip out “...all of them”, and in again “Did you understand?”, she whined under him, gripping on the counter, trying not to lose her shit his his teasing, failing on it too. He took the tip out once more “Did you…”, and in “... understand?”, she nodded “Yes…”, she gulped “Good girl” “Jake, please, I need you”, she cried. Jake was about to lose his shit as well, so he nodded and finally released her hips and pushed the rest of his dick inside of her, letting a moan escape from his throat, and pushing down to kiss her neck.

She moaned, louder than the other times and gripped on his hair, trying to release the overwhelm he had put her through. He started to move slowly just to tease her a little more, but as he thrusted, his hips began to move faster on their own. It was unusual for him to listen to the sound of skin slapping, bodies colliding and fluids mixing in that kitchen over the sound of pans and food grilling, but he could listen to it everyday, as long as he was with her, he wouldn’t mind listening to dirty sounds while he prepared a salad. And her moans, it was the best sound he had ever heard. He switched the angle of his hips, hitting a sensitive point on her “Jake…”, she moaned “...right there”, he continued to thrust, till he felt she clenching around him “Feels so good around me, damn”, he groaned “Fuck, Jake, I’m cumming”, she clenched more, he groaned again “Fuck, me too…”, she hit her edge and a few seconds later, Jake hit his. He had to use a strength he didn’t know had left on him for not completely succumbing over her body.

They took a few moments to normalize their breaths, she caressed his hair, and he had his face buried on the crock of her neck. “What’s it?’, she asked, referring to something cold against her chest “It’s a necklace”, he hovered over her body so she could see it. She held the pendant to take a look on it “This necklace… I know it” “Yeah, you gave it to me when I left to Australia” “I know… You kept it all of those years” “I wore it when I got into the airplane and never took it off since then”, she covered her mouth “Jake… that’s…” “I knew you would be with me if I wore it, so…”, a few tears rolled down her face. Jake dried them with his thumb “... you were with me all of those years”, she pulled him for a kiss, a salty kiss due to her tears “I’m… I don’t even know what to say” “So don’t say anything, just kiss me” “Ok”, he kissed her again and they stood there, making out for a while.

…From that date on, they started to go out frequently. Jake also moved from his own place, so they had more privacy. Which meant sex everywhere. In every room of his new house, without the concern of getting caught by Sunoo or Ni-ki or anyone else. Though, they slept over her place too, especially in those days Sunoo wasn’t home. Like that one, or at least she thought he wasn’t. They went to the movie theater the night before, then they came back to her apartment. When she woke up Sunoo wasn’t there yet, neither was Jake. She went out of her room, looking for her beloved, finding him in the bathroom. She knocked on the door “Come in” Good morning, love”, he said when she saw her “Good morning, Jakey”, she said with a sleepy tone “Come here. Join me” “I…”, they never showered together before “I won’t bite you” “I want you to bite me” “So I will bite you” “But not on the neck, it took me a lifetime to convince Sunoo that I wasn’t seeing anyone and  yes, I was using protection”. She took her pajama off and entered the shower, letting the water run over her body. Jake stepped forward, taking her lips on his, till her back hit the cold wall. His hand lifted one of her thighs and he went down on her. Sucking her clit, licking her arouse “Jake, Jake, Jake…”, she muttered, “...come here”, he stood up, and aligned himself  with her, penetrating her at once. He leaned his forehead on hers, without moving yet “You’re not using protection now”, she chuckled “And apparently I’m seeing someone” Jake smiled “Yes, I think you are”, then he started to move. They were so caught up in the moment that they didn’t hear when Sunoo knocked on the door. Since nobody answered, he entered “Oh. My. God” he said, instantly covering his eyes and leaving the bathroom. “Shit” they said in unison. Jake took himself out of her and she ran from the shower, with a towel wrapped around her body, to reach her brother “Sunny!”, she shouted, knocking on the door of his bedroom. He kept silent. “C’mon, Sun. Open the door, let’s talk”, Jake showed up, wearing a robe “He doesn’t say anything”, Jake knocked on the door “C’mon, bro. Show up”, Sunoo opened the door, he had rage coming out from his eyes “You! The girl you bragged about the other day was my sister?! How could you?!”, Jake rubbed his nape, “I welcomed you to my house when you came back to Korea! I shared my bed with you! I didn’t accept when you wanted to pay rent! I even shared my mint choco with you! And you thank me with fucking with my little sister on the shower?!” “Sunoo, you’re overreacting. I’m not a kid anymore”, he looked at her “And you! You said you were not seeing anyone and you were using protection. But in reality, you are seeing someone and you were not wearing protection!” “Sunny, I wasn’t going out with him when you asked” “But why didn't you tell me when you two started to… do whatever you’ve been doing?” “I was afraid of your reaction. The exact one you are having right now. I was afraid of ruining your long term friendship with Jake”

“Well, you shouldn’t worry about it, he ruined  it by himself the moment he decided to get into it”, Sunoo looked at Jake “How could you?!” “I…” he wrapped an arm around her shoulder “I am sorry you don’t like the idea, but I’m in love with your sister. I’m not taking distance from her”, she looked at Jake and Sunoo’s facial expression relaxed “Are you?!”, he looked at her “Yes. I’m so much in love with you”, she smiled “Yeah, me too”. Jake rubbed her cheek with his thumb and they fought the urge to kiss. “Awwww, you love each other!”, Sunoo broke the moment “Aren’t you mad anymore?” “Oh, c’mon. You guys are in love, how could I hate you guys for that?” “But… just now you…” “It was when I thought you were messing around with my baby sister”, he answered with a smile on his face “I’m only 16 minutes younger” “It doesn’t matter”, he hugged the other 2. “Now go finish your shower, and don’t take too long. I have a date today” “What?!”, they said in unison. Sunoo blushed, then giggled while the passionate couple teased him about his date.

[ponyosmom35]

don't ever talk to her like that again

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter ten!

synopsis: Ghost forgets to come by and get his wound checked and the reader confronts him in front of 141, who make fun of him. he goes to her and catches a soldier yelling at her.

warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, cursing, angsty ghost

Liability masterlist:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

The next day was busy, she worked at least 16 hours, hopping between the soldiers, tending to their wounds. All of them were kind except for one. James was the young man whom she saved with Ghost the day prior. For whatever reason he seemed to dislike her. He made comments the entire day that had been slowly upsetting her. She tried not to think about it, and even asked to switch with another medic. She didn’t want him going around to others and telling them that she was an awful caretaker. 

Things settled down around 5 pm, most of the soldiers were fast asleep. She sits dwon for the first time that day after 12 hours of work and runs her hand over her hair. Her legs were on fire, as was her neck and her back. Yet you could never tell just but looking at her. She looks down at her files and goes over them all. She updated the treatment they’d received that day. She picks up the last file, noticing that it was the partially filled-out page she had for Ghost. She was unable to find his file without knowing his name. She huffs as she remembers that she’d told him to come visit her today. She leaves the files on her desk and walks through the dining hall, she spots him sitting at a crowded table with 141 and many others. Deciding to take a break she grabs a plate and sits down next to Soap and across from Ghost. 

“ankle biter! My god it's great to see you” Soap exclaims 

“Good to see you too suds” she says pushing his shoulder, the table chuckles at her cute nickname for him.

“How you been today? Haven’t seen you take a break once” Price comments “Yeah its been busy, everyone seems to be settled now” she nods

“You’ve done such a great job here, Ghost briefed me last night. You’re a real asset kid, thanks for the hard work, hope you know its appreciated” 

“Thank you, captain, that means a lot” she nods happily, as her cheeks turn pink

“Any of em giving you a hard time?” Gaz asks “sometimes we can be stubborn after gettin hurt”

“Just one, he’s fine though, doesn’t bother me”

“Who is it?” Ghost asks roughly, his intense gaze on her. Everyone turns to him in surprise, as he hasn’t said a word the whole time. 

“Doesn’t matter, but I am curious why you haven’t stopped by today, I need to check your stitches” she says crossing her arms, eyebrows raised as she waits for his explanation. The boys exchange glances, smirks on their faces as they await his response. 

“I’m good, don’t need anything else” 

“You are on the brink of an infection, I need to clean it out again”

“It’s fine-”

“If I don’t see you in my office before lights out I’ll drag you in there myself” she warns, pointing her fork at him. 

“Better not test her mate, I hear gingers are crazy” Soap murmurs 

“Shut up Johnny” Ghost snaps 

“You have three hours Ghost, don’t push me” she half-jokes “alright boys, I better get back to it, enjoy your dinner”

“You barely ate!” Price comments 

“No time, I’ll grab something later” she smiles before leaving the table.

After she’s out of earshot the men erupt into laughter, slamming their hands on the table as they cackle. Ghost sits there with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed at Soap.

“she got your ass LT” 

“I’ve never seen a bird talk to you that way, my god I love that woman” Gaz exclaims as he wipes his tears 

“She’s got you good doesn’t she eh Ghost?” Price asks slamming his hand on Ghost’s back. 

“What makes you say that?” he questions angrily, causing them to laugh loudly once more.

“You’re killing me LT, I can’t stand it” Soap says wiping the tears in his eyes

“Let me put it to you this way mate, I’ve never seen anyone speak to you like that and walk away unharmed. You didn’t even say a word! Never would’ve thought a bird would hold you by the balls like that, I’m glad to see it though” Gaz says sincerely, Ghost shakes his head and stands up holding his empty plate. Soap and Gaz continue to giggle and he glares at them intensely, both shut up and cover their mouths to hide their laughs.

“Fucking idiots” he comments

Ghost walks over to the food and makes a plate of food, he grabs a napkin and silverware before walking to the medical bay. He could hear a loud voice yelling and frowns. He walks closer to the source and sets the food down. 

“You fucking bitch! You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, get me a new doctor!” a voice yells

“James, I know it hurts but I have to clean it out, you don’t want an infection trust me” he hears her voice explaining calmly. Ghost stays outside, knowing that she could handle herself. He knew she’d be upset if he came in and defended her. Though every part of him was itching to rip that kid’s throat out. 

“No I don’t fucking trust you! You’d rather bounce on Ghost’s dick than actually do your job!” he yells

His eyes widen at that comment and he can’t control the rage that fills his body. Ghost storms into the room, his heavy footsteps causing them to turn and look at him. 

“Ghost-” James starts, in the blink of an eye he’s standing above the wounded soldier gripping his collar and holding him up. His heart rate spikes on the machine and he ignores it. 

“You fucking insignificant bastard, how dare you speak to a woman like that?!” he demands 

“Ghost it’s fine-” she starts 

“If I hear you speak to her like that ever again I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me? I don’t give a fuck if you’re in a hospital bed, only makes it easier” he threatens 

“okay man!” James says with tears in his eyes

“This woman saved your life! You’d be rotting six feet under if it weren’t for her. Show her some goddamn respect!”

“I’m sorry!” he cries out

“You will be once I’m done with you” Ghost drops him on his back forcefully. She places a hand on his forearm, instantly catching his attention at the touch. 

“Come on, lets clean you up” she says pulling him out of the room “someone will help you soon James, hang tight” 

She leads Ghost into a spare room and closes the door behind her. He doesn’t say a word as he breathes heavily, his hands clenched as he tried to keep himself from going back and finishing the kid off. 

“Can you take off your jacket?” she asks, her voice gentle. He looks up at her, her eyes were red and she was visibly exhausted. He does as told and unzips the thick fleece provided by the force. He reveals the tight black tee shirt he’d worn underneath and she inhales a sharp breath quietly as she stares at the way his muscles pop from the shirt. This was the second time she’d seen his bare arm, and she was still in shock. Fuck he was so sexy.

“besides what just happened, Have you been keeping yourself on light duty?” she asks, seemingly trying to move past the incident that just took place. 

“Yes”

“Oh at least you followed one of my instructions” she comments sarcastically 

“Are you okay?” he asks as she begins to slowly unwrap his wounds 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“James-”

“James is a dick but you could’ve really hurt him” she says disapprovingly. 

“He can’t talk to you like that”

“Unfortunately that’s a part of the job Ghost, angry soldiers need someone to blame, often times the person in front of them trying to help”

“Still gives him no right” he grunts, she begins to clean out his wounds gently as she sighs. He says inherently apologizing for the way he treated her when she tried to help him months back.

“Then he would’ve blamed me for that too, made the rumors worse” 

“If you want me to apoligize its not going to happen” he responds 

“I don’t expect you to apoligize, I actually think it was really sweet what you did for me. Nobody’s ever defended me like that before” she muses 

“Never?” 

“No”

“You let me know if he opens his mouth again, I’ll make sure those are the last words that rat bastard ever speaks” he says, watching as her face lightens and she laughs. The sound is like music to his ears, the tense feeling in his stomach dissipating. 

“I think you’ve scarred him straight” 

“Fucker” he murmurs under his breath. 

“I’m a big girl ghost, I can handle my own” she says 

“I know you can, but I didn’t ask you to” he responds causing her to snort. “What would you have said to him?” 

“I probably would’ve warned him not to threaten the person trying to help him, sound familiar?” she asks, he laughs and nods his head. 

“very” 

“Okay you’re all set” she says, fixing his sleeve “do you want anything for the pain?”

“No” he says, standing to his feet, his large stature once more towering over her. 

He moves to the door and opens it, gesturing for her to walk in front of him. She smiles and walks into the common room, noticing a plate of food on the table. She frowns and walks over to it. “I wonder whose this is” 

“I brought it for you” he comments, watching as she looks up at him in surprise “probably cold now”

“That was really sweet, thank you” she says taking a seat as she picks at it. 

“Thank you for…” he trails off gesturing to his arm

“Anytime” she nods, watching as he turns to walk away, her eyes widen and she stands calling after him. Ghost turns, staring down at her in confusion. 

“So I know you go by Ghost but I need your real name so I can update your file” she says, his body tenses and he glares down at her, she notices and shifts uncomfortably “Its protocol, legally I can’t keep using a blank form” 

His mind races as he thinks of a way to get out of this situation. She seems to notice his distress and shakes her head. 

“You know what, I’ll talk to Price and figure it out, no problem” she says, watching as he sighs in relief. 

“Have a good night Ghost” she smiles before walking away.

-

Later that night she walks into her room, fresh out of the shower. She opens her door and notices it catching on something. She frowns and opens it all the way, noticing a file on the ground. She picks it up and opens it. At the top it read ‘Lieutenant Simon Riley’. Her heart swells as she nearly drops the file on the ground. A large smile spreads across her face as her cheeks turn pink. Simon, his name was Simon. He trusted her enough to reveal his name. 

She spends an hour filling out his medical report, unable to keep the smile off of her face. As she finishes she sets the file on her bedside table and crawls under her covers. She lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling with a smile. Her heart racing at the thought of him. Simon Riley had her wrapped around his big ass fingers. 

a/n: giggling and kicking my feet rn! I am losing my mind at this, ugh how sweet.

[dfortrafalgar]

Bring Your Daughter(s) To Work Day

Law x Fem Reader (kinda)

When the babysitter cancels last minute, Law is forced to bring his daughters to work with him, and deal with the emotions they unknowingly make him feel.

A/N: SURPRISE- BONUS CHAPTER FOR IMLY!!! this came to me suddenly and i hammered it out. this can be read as a standalone, but i wrote it with the intention of it being directly connected to the universe of my long form fic "I'm Losing You"

Warnings: nothing but pure fluff here, folks. established relationship, third person POV, reader is only present in the beginning and end of the story, some suggestive language sprinkled throughout but nothing explicit

[IMLY Masterlist]

Law watched with dejected eyes as his wife dropped her head into her hands, a harsh groan leaving her lips.  Under her breath, quiet enough so her kids couldn’t hear her profanity, she uttered, “Fuck.”

“Let me guess,” Law mumbled.  “She canceled?”

“This is the last time we use this babysitter,” she growled, turning off her phone and flipping it upside down so the screen faced the table, ignoring whatever incoming messages might appear.  “It’s going to be too late to find any sitters now, and their school doesn’t start for another week.  It’s not like we can just drop them off somewhere or leave them here alone.”  She picked up her gaze, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concern.  “Law… I can’t miss this interview.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered back, reaching his hand across the kitchen table to stroke her clenched fist.  “You’re not going to.”

“Do you have a plan, then?”

Law bit the inside of his cheek as he searched his mind for any feasible solution.  One of the biggest interviews of his wife’s career was on the following day, ever since she cordially parted with her last job after having their twins.  She spent the first year of their life physically recovering from the birth, as well as having her tubes tied to prevent any more reproductive issues, the couple happily deciding that they were fine with two children.  The following toddler years were spent at home with Cora and Rose, his wife being assisted by Uncle Shachi, Uncle Penguin, and Auntie Ikkaku whenever they were free.  On days where Law was out of work, he made sure his wife was completely hands-off, taking his daughters out so his wife could spend some much needed time alone or out with her own friends.  The two had a comfortable balance, allowing for ample time spent with each other, their daughters, as well as valuing their personal lives.  Law’s cardiothoracic surgeon salary was more than enough to afford comfortable living in their small house filled with two six-year-old girls and a dog, but he could tell his wife was desperate to get back to a working schedule again.  There was never an issue with having more income, after all, and the doctor knew his wife was never one for the stay-at-home lifestyle for the long-term.

“I’ll bring them with me,” he stated suddenly.  His face remained completely neutral.

“What?” she yelped, standing from her chair.  “Law, you can’t.  You’re a doctor.”

“I don’t have any operations tomorrow, and I’m only working 12 hours.  I’ll bring them with me when I leave at 9, and you can pick them up after your interview,” he explained.  “I have plenty of staff, and there’s a children’s room in the cardiac ward.  They’ll have things to do and people to talk to.”

His wife frantically searched her husband’s face for any sign of indifference or reluctance to his own claim.  Finding none, she slowly sank back into her chair.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely positive?”

“I am.”

“And you promise to not traumatize them?”

Law pursed his lips.  The week prior, he found his girls in the backyard poking a dead, gutted rabbit with a stick.  He didn’t think he had much to worry about.  “I promise.”

Finally letting her shoulders relax, his wife slumped over and rested her forearms on the kitchen table, plopping her head against them and shielding her face from the world.  A small chuckle exited Law’s lips as he stood and rounded the furniture, coming to rest behind his wife and placing his deft hands on her shoulders, massaging the knots out of her tired muscles.  She visibly relaxed even more from his touch, almost as if she was melting from the motions of his hands.

“You always know exactly what to do to make me feel better,” she sighed, tossing a glance at her smirking husband from over her shoulder.

“Everything’s going to work out.  You’ll do amazing at your interview, the girls will behave themselves at work, and we’ll all live happily ever after,” he hummed, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on the back of her head.

“Can you bring home ice cream tomorrow?” she asked, her voice finally regaining its light and airy demeanor as her sullen mood finally lifted.

“Of course.”

—

“Girls.”

Law’s stern golden eyes looked in the rear-view mirror, watching as Cora and Rose immediately snapped their attention to their father from the backseat.  Rose clenched a book in her small hands, well above her age’s reading level, while Cora fiddled around with the broken arm of a Stealth Black action figure.

“Remember to be on your absolute best behavior today, alright?” he stated firmly.  “I’ll be around to check on you both for most of the day, but when I’m not there, you need to be good for the nurses.”

“We know, daddy,” Cora chirped.  “Mama told us you’d be coming home with ice cream if we were good.”

“I’ll be coming home with ice cream regardless,” he replied, a small smile growing on his lips.  “But if you’re not good, you won’t be getting any.  It’ll just be for Mommy and I.”

He laughed as his daughters screeched from the backseat, flabbergasted at the mere insinuation that they might not get a share of any delectable treats.  Fondness welled in his heart as he listened to the twins bicker over their shared behavior.  Through their short six years on Earth, they had already grown into strong, individualistic young ladies who were practically inseparable.  Law cried on every single birthday.  They had turned him into quite a softie.

His foot gently depressed the break of his car as he turned into the sprawling hospital’s parking garage, driving up the ramps to the third floor and slipping into a parking space reserved for staff.  He diligently grabbed the large childcare bag from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder before proceeding to free Rose from her restrictive (but very safe) car seat, followed by Cora, who clambered to get out of the car and holler into the echoing abyss of the parking garage, giggling at the way her voice bounced off the concrete pillars and walls surrounding her.  Rose held her hands over her ears, cringing at the sound.

“Get it out of your system now, baby, you can’t be yelling like that in the hospital,” Law uttered, grabbing each girl by the hand and slowly walking with them toward the hospital’s entrance connected to the parking garage by a small hallway and two elevator shafts.

Rose firmly gripped her father’s hand in her right, clutching her book in her left.  Cora skipped along, tripping over her feet, and sang into the air.  “Gather up all of the crew!  It’s time to ship out Binks’ brew!  Sea wind blows, to where?  Who knows!  The waves will be our guide!”

Rose mumbled, her small voice whiny and irritated.  “Cora, you’ve been singing that all day.”

“I love that song!” the younger girl retorted, almost stepping on Law’s foot.  “Uncle Luffy taught it to me.”

Law bit back a smirk, yet rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.  Leave it to that boisterous man to introduce his daughters to the life of high-stakes maritime activity.  He’d be lying if he said playing pirates with his girls wasn’t some of the most fun he’d had recently, however.  It only took a bit of a negative turn when Cora, pretending to be the infamous Blackbeard, landed a punch against Law’s groin so harsh it made him double over.  It wasn’t like she knew any better, but amidst his wife’s worried yet hysterical laughter, he wondered if that blow was enough to make him infertile.

He shrugged the thought into the back of his head, releasing Rose’s gentle hand to press the elevator button, leading his girls into the small space and watching in silence as the doors closed in front of them, carrying them down two levels to the cardiac ward.

“Daddy?” Rose asked, looking up at him.  “What do you do all day?”

Law pondered briefly.  “On days where I don’t have operations, I usually do rounds for patients.”

“What are rounds?” asked the curly-haired girl.  

“I go from room-to-room and assess each person’s health and how they’re doing,” he explained.

“Can we join you?” Cora suddenly asked, staring up at her father with her own large, golden eyes.

“I’m afraid not, sweetpea.”

The younger twin pouted before suddenly growing frazzled out of nowhere.  “I LEFT MY ACTION FIGURE IN THE CAR!!!”

Rose quickly covered her ears again at her sister’s shrill scream.

“We’ll get it later, baby,” Law tried to console.  He nervously glanced at the LCD screen above the button panel, about to reach the first floor.  “I can get it for you on my lunch break.  Can you wait until then?”

Cora’s face was growing flushed as she puffed out her cheeks, her eyes welling with heavy crocodile tears.  “But I want him now!  He’s going to die in the car!”

Law rubbed a hand over her hair.  “He won’t die.”

“He will!”

“I’ll save him before he does,” he said back.  “Shhh, keep your voice down, baby.”

Rose removed her hands from her ears with an audible, relieved sigh.  Cora was appeased… for now.  She’d have to deal with profound, inescapable boredom until noon, or at least until her mom came to pick the two up and save them from the children’s room at the hospital.

All things considered, the girls were fantastically behaved.  They watched on quietly as Law scanned his badge to enter the high-security corridors leading to the cardiothoracic ward, nodding a wordless hello to the various nurses and doctors who passed by, each offering fond, excited smiles to the young girls.  The long, winding hallways of the hospital were ginormous in comparison to the twins, who were used to the much smaller hallways of their kindergarten building, but they kept their hands in their father’s as he led them to his ward.

“Can you remember what I said in the car?” the surgeon asked, scanning his badge over one last electronic box on the wall, the click of the door’s lock signaling its opening.

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Rose obediently replied, more excited to be able to get back to her reading in peace.

“We promise,” Cora added.  She opened her small mouth one more time, as if to add a second thought, but quickly shut her jaw and stared straight ahead.  Law cocked an eyebrow at the display, but didn’t question it further.  If the little girl had an issue, she would immediately let him know.

There was a children’s room, which was really just a small space situated behind one of the nurses stations, used primarily for families with very small children.  When a person would be admitted to the cardiac ward, any potential juvenile visitors were welcome to use the children’s area to remove them from the otherwise clinical, scary environment of the hospital.  The entire space was stocked with coloring books, light reading for ages 4-10, building blocks, and other miscellaneous playthings, all thoroughly sanitized before and after each visit.

When Law rounded the corner into the doorway of the children’s area, Rebecca was crouched down on the floor, diligently wiping down a set of large plastic building blocks with a sanitizing wipe.  Her large, brown eyes glimmered as she saw Cora and Rose, having not seen them in quite some time.  It wasn’t like Law brought them to work often.

“There are the guests of honor!” sang the pink-haired woman, discarding the wipe into a nearby trash receptacle and hurrying toward her superior and his two excited daughters.  The girls pulled away from their dad and hugged Rebecca’s legs, instantly remembering the warm smile and bright laughter of the nurse who happily knelt to their level and pulled them to her chest.  “It’s so wonderful to see you two again!”

“Let me know if they give you any trouble, Rebecca,” Law sighed, smiling at the sight albeit scrunching his eyebrows at the potential his children had for causing petty issues.  They were their mother’s daughters, after all.  Their well-behaved exterior made room for some very sinister six-year-old schemes.

“How could these sweet angels cause any trouble at all?” Rebecca giggled, ruffling Rose’s head of thick, curly black hair.  “I will, though, sir.  No problem at all.”

“I’ll be back in about two hours for my short break.  Cora, Rose…” the surgeon called their names, alerting their attention once more.

The silence in the room was palpable as Law brought two of his fingers to his eyes, gesturing his hand toward their faces as if giving a silent threat that he had his eye on them, even if not in the same room.  He had a playful smirk on his face as he did so, leading Cora to stick her tongue out at her dad.  Rose gave her sister a light shove, harshly whispering about the ice cream reward still looming over their heads.

—

Two hours and far too many patient rounds finally came and went before Law was able to take a short break, proceeding to the children’s room with his ample amount of paperwork in an accordion binder held in his arms.  He’d be able to get some time to work on it while sitting on the floor at the squatted table while he gave his nurse a much needed reprieve from his daughters.  While marching through the long hallways of the cardiac ward, the surgeon pulled out his phone and smiled at the text that had come in from his wife, about 30 minutes prior.

Mama What do you think of this fit???  I mean, im going with it, but do i look hot and professional?

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama Right answers only.  Also, are the girls behaving alright???

His wife did indeed look stunning.  Her curves fit elegantly into a sharp, black pencil skirt that flared slightly below her knees.  Sheer tights complimented her supple skin, and sophisticated yet casual wedge heels boosted her height by a good inch or so.  She was posing in the mirror of their bedroom, one hip jutted out propping up her free hand that she graced over her waist.  A trendy blouse was tucked into the skirt, the top few buttons still undone.  Grinning down at his phone and holding his folder tighter against his abdomen, he fumbled to type out a response while walking.

You know you look stunning, baby.  Absolutely gorgeous.  You’re going to do up those top buttons, though, right?

He watched the incoming message bubble appear and disappear a few times before her response came in.

Mama Duh, i was just hoping that showing off some cleavage would give me extra points with you <3

Law fought to bite down the chuckle that rose in his throat, not wanting to attract attention. As long as I get to undo those buttons later.  He was feeling bold today.

Mama Ice cream first, sex later.  Love you baby <333

Law quickly shoved his phone into his pocket after thumbing out a quick good luck message for her upcoming interview, which she was surely traveling to at that very moment.  He pushed open the door to the children’s room, quickly pushing back any inappropriate thoughts of his beautiful wife and smiling at the sight of his daughters.

Cora was in the middle of utilizing every single building block the room had to build a convoluted structure that took a plethora of odd shapes.  She was being assisted by another young girl who’s curious violet eyes watched inquisitively at each new block added to the structure.  Rose was in the adult-sized chair across the room, her nose buried in a new book.  Judging by her original book on the floor by the legs of the chair, she had finished that one after only two days.  A new literary record.  Rebecca was absent from the room, most likely having left to continue her own duties, but judging by the faint smell of light cleaning alcohol in the room, she hadn’t been gone long.

With a smile, Law sat on the floor across from his daughter’s, and the new girl’s, strange structure.  “What are you building?”

“A submarine.  Can’t you tell?” Cora replied, placing a pink-colored block on top of an ominously leaning stack.

The new girl, who’s hair was a deep shade of purple, stared at Law with huge, curious eyes before a cheeky grin broke out on her face.  “Are you the doctor taking care of my papa?” she asked.

Law grinned.  “Could be.  Who’s your papa?”

“Tenguyama Hitetsu,” she confirmed cheerily.  “Well, he’s not actually my papa, but he also is.”

A lightbulb clicked on in his head.  He had just been in Mr. Tanguyama’s room, and had no idea that the elderly man had any child under his care.  It was then he remembered that the man had described a young girl as his ‘student’ rather than ‘daughter,’ but he still spoke about her with such fond language.  Kurozumi Tama.

“Tama’s been helping me build,” blurted Cora, bringing herself to her feet to place another block on the tower attached to what was supposed to be a submarine.

“You two make a good team,” Law replied fondly as he turned his attention to his oldest daughter.  “Rose, what are you reading?”

Her new book was substantially thicker than the one she brought with her.  There were no pictures on the cover.  She tilted the object down only slightly to speak with her father.  “Rebecca brought it for me when I asked.  It’s a book about common heart conditions in adults.”

Somehow, Law was not surprised.  He didn’t even question it, watching as the black-haired girl turned her attention back to her book, disregarding any potential response from her father.  Without another word, and without wanting to distract the kids from their intense focus, he scooted across the floor to the squatted table and opened his accordion folder, flipping through his paperwork to pass his two hour break, counting his blessings that he had such easy, albeit… strange, children.

He couldn’t stay focused long enough to begin filling out his patient charts, however.  Especially not when he was swarmed with thoughts about his family.  As he picked his gaze up and glanced across the room at his daughters immersed in their own little worlds, happy as clams in their special ways, he couldn’t fight the swelling in his heart.  His wife, after worlds of difficulty, had given him two of the greatest gifts of his life.  Those gifts were now six years old, about to start first grade, reading above their level, building and drawing, holding conversations, and were filled with boundless love.  They hadn’t yet reached the age where they were embarrassed to hold hands with their dad in public, and they were still too young to fully understand the world around them, but it was clear as day to the surgeon that his little girls were bound to learn the tough realities of their lives sooner rather than later.  It made his chest pang thinking of how quickly they had grown up.  It felt like just yesterday that Law was by his wife’s side in the delivery room, finally holding his babies after they were allowed to leave the NICU, happy, healthy, and already beginning to babble and whine for their next feeding.  He remembered looking at his wife, the woman of his dreams, who had gone through far more than any human should in bringing these girls into the world, kissing her lips and thanking her, thanking whatever deity was in the heavens that she was still alive and well.

“Daddy?”

Rose’s voice broke Law from his trance, his sharp golden eyes darting up to meet hers.  The book was folded in her lap, her hands tracing the embossed letters on the hard cover.  

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice small and concerned.

A lump developed at the base of Law’s throat.  His girls looked so much like his wife.  He forced the rock down his esophagus and smiled at his little girl.

“I’m just fine, sweetpea.”

—

Law had needed to stay for an extra hour and a half after his shift was supposed to end, much to his distaste.  After his close-call to an emotional outburst that afternoon, he wanted nothing more than to run home, embrace his wife in a hug, and cuddle with her on the couch with the ice cream that he had promised her.  When he was finally able to slip into his car, the backseats empty (save for the Stealth Black action figure that was completely forgotten about by noon) with Cora and Rose having been picked up by their mom, he pulled out his phone to send his wife a text only to find that she had sent him one first.

Mama Look how tuckered out they are!!!

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama What did you do to them???  LOL

The image was immediately saved to Law’s camera app.  Cora and Rose were curled up on the plush carpet in their living room on both sides of Bepo who was sprawled out on his back.  Their little arms wrapped around the dog’s torso, their faces squished into his warm, white fur as they snoozed in one conjoined unit.  He quickly tapped out a text that he was coming home, placing his phone in his bag and proceeding out of the parking garage as quickly as he could.  With the only places still open at that hour being the gas station, he stopped at the nicest one in town and picked up three pints of ice cream, as well as a few extra treats to surprise the girls with when their new friend, Tama, came over for a playdate in a few days.

When Law finally entered his house, the only light still on was the lamp beside the couch.  All the curtains were drawn, shrouding the living room in a pleasant, dim warmth.  His wife was on the couch, laying back with her phone in her hand.  She quickly stood up when Law entered, excitedly yet quietly closing the gap between them and capturing her husband’s lips in a tender kiss.  He cheekily took the freezing bag containing the ice cream and pressed it against the thin cotton t-shirt she wore to bed, cooling her skin and making her suppress a surprised yelp.  She giggled as she playfully batted Law’s chest.

“You tease!” she whispered.  “I don’t wanna wake the girls.”

“With the way they were sleeping in that picture, I doubt we’ll wake them up,” he replied, his voice low as his lips stole another kiss, lingering a few moments longer.  His heart fluttered at the feeling of his wife smiling into his gesture, her hands trailing over his chest, shoulders, and up into his fluffy black hair.

When she pulled away, he finally noticed the blouse she still wore, all the buttons done up.  “Good, because you still have to take this off of me.  I’m uncomfortable.”  She snatched the bag out of his hands, procuring her own pint of ice cream.  “After this, obviously.”

“Of course, of course.”  Law followed her lead, grabbing his own treat after placing his other goods into the freezer and following his wife to the couch with two spoons in hand.  Bepo was on his dog bed snoring up a storm, which he had been doing much more often in his older age.

“How did your interview go?” he finally asked, smiling as his wife snuggled into his size, using a blanket to grip her ice cream without freezing her hand.

“I think it went well, I was so nervous, though.  I had to apply an extra layer of deodorant in the car because I was sweating so much,” she explained.  “But the manager seemed pleased with my resume.  And she knew Ms. Boa, so hopefully that means my recommendations will be worth it.”

Law held her close while opening his own ice cream.  “I’m sure it will be.  You’re a shoe in for that position.”

“You’re just saying that,” she mumbled, taking a spoonful of the frozen treat.

“You like when I say things,” Law replied with a smirk on his lips.

She sunk further into his chest, letting his warmth embrace her.  Her mind swirled with images of the man, when they started dating, when he proposed, on their wedding night, in the hospital multiple times, holding his daughters… the woman blinked away fond tears and swallowed her emotions with another hefty spoonful of ice cream.

“What are you thinking about, gorgeous?” asked the man behind her, his voice gruff and tired from a long day in the hospital.

“Nothing…” she mumbled back, hiding her face in his neck.  “Just how lucky I am to have you.”

[sp0-t]

Preview of some upcoming stories?!! (sort of rambles)

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

You and Simon used to date, it was a while ago, 5 years, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago to be exact. You never kept count, you wanted to forget everything. It was Simon that kept count, every second, every minute, every hour. He was there keeping track. You moved on, you had a whole new life at this point, new job, new house, new car, even a new partner. You wanted nothing to do with that old life that old place, that old job still haunting you some nights. But that was all behind you, long ago, no reason to dwell on it, you have a new life a new start that not many got. Your old life was behind you forgotten, like a bad dream.

Except this dream came back to haunt you, physically, in the present. In the physical form of Simon “Ghost” Riley. He was the reason you couldn’t sleep at night, the reason you needed a new life in the first place, needed to run away from the past.

Him

HIM

The last person that deserved to come back into your life was here. And he is persistent per usual, no matter what you do, or what you say to him, he was not going to budge he’d stay stolid and still and he’d be that way for the rest of time if he had to.

He’d wait…

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

Gaz and you are two of the biggest names in the modeling world. You can’t talk about it without either name popping up. What makes it even more of popular topic, is the rumor of a certain type of relationship between you two. However these aren’t true they can’t be, at least not yet…

You are in a contract with one of if not the biggest modeling agency in the world, you being their top model, however, you have a very close runner up. They’ve been gaining more and more attraction every year, placing them higher and higher in the rankings. Social media isn’t helping in this case, it’s the very thing that gained them their popularity in the first place. One post about their new male model and the internet goes fucking batshit.

“Who is he?”

“I need him!”

“He’s so fine, omg!”

“The things I would do…”

Well, who is this mystery man, no other than Kyle Garrick. He normally goes by his stage nickname “Gaz”. No one knows where it comes from, but then again no one really cares enough.

However this year both your agency’s are competing for first, both agencies have to put out their best models in a runway show, a panel will then decide who the best is. But then why do people suspect a relationship between the two. A simple cigarette, that was it, a cigarette. Paparazzi can be some nosey individuals, it was after a clothes fitting, both agencies were required to have it done by the same tailor company to remove any bias, and no changes could be made to outfits by this point. It was late out probably 11pm, about to be 12. I guess paparazzi doesn’t sleep, you went out for a cigarette or two. About to light your second you hear the door open behind you.

“Mind if I join you?”

Of course it was him, why wouldn’t it be Gaz

“Do as you please.”

Your voice comes out a bit muffled from the cigarette between your lips. You try and light your cigarette again, you spark the lighter multiple times no flames ever coming to light. You get more and more frustrated the longer it takes to see flames. You bring the thing up to your ear and shake to hear if there’s any liquid, it’s empty. In frustration you throw the lighter against a nearby wall.

“Fucking piece of shit.”

Still muffled from the unlit cigarette you sigh out in frustration and defeat, leaning against the wall behind you. You run your hand through your hair as your about to push off the wall to walk back inside the building, when a flame is placed in front of you.

“Need a light?”

You look up at him a bit confused

“Yeah. Thanks.”

SNAP* SNAP* SNAP* The image of Gaz leaning over slightly cupping the flame to prevent the wind from blowing it out, while you tilt your head a bit up to get your cigarette to reach the flame while Gaz looks down at you. That’s what was going viral, the image, the circulating stories and rumors going around. Both of your names were everywhere, one couldn’t be without the other in the media.

All over a damn cig

💿: I only have two for you today, these are just quick summaries. I’m sorry these are on like “cliff hangers”, I really wanted you guys to make your own assumptions and theories. I do want to start writing an actual full on story for one of the quick ideas I’ve wrote(author!price, PoliceForce!141, and these new ones). I’ll most likely put up a poll for people to vote on which one I’ll write first, so definitely stay around for that if you’re interested!!

(sorry the Simon one is so short but if I added more it would be like double this whole page)

written by: @sp0-t ©️

[madisonthetimewalker]

You know what fuck it take modern AU Adamai headcanons

1. Adamai works in retail do not ask why he just does.

2. He has clip on ear rings he got his ears pierced once and he regretted it because of the pain

3. He doesn’t like to express himself very much mostly keeping to himself and not talking about his problems.

4. He likes to read and I mean he LOVES reading, if you’re lucky you can catch him on break reading a comic book.

5. He knows how to skateboard (yugo does not and he laughs at this)

6. He mostly stays in his room only coming out for food or unless he wants to be outside for a bit. Other than that he doesn’t really leave his room.

7. He’s very smart about specific dragon cultures, every so often you can catch him in the library reading about dragon myths and possibly ancient food recipes.

8. Surprising he’s very quiet, sure at a young age he was bubbling with joy but now he’s more quiet and sometimes shy.

9. He doesn’t really like big gatherings it was never his thing. If he didn’t know anybody there then he would sit in a corner and mind his own business. (This man has horrible social anxiety)

10. His taste in fashion is decent most of the time he just wears baggy jeans and a shirt, he isn’t much for looking nice.

11. I like to see him as this huge nerd, for example if you ask him about a specific event involving ancient dragonic history. He will talk for hours explaining every detail and every bit of lore (look at my nerdy boy)

12. He doesn’t have many friends at work or at all for that matter, he just works although yes people have tried to talk to him in the past he rarely interacts with them.

13. He loves listening to drama, he loves to listen in on interesting conversations it’s like a hobby at this point.

14. Adamai isn’t much of a people person (as I have said multiple times in this post) and if your lucky enough he might talk to you about specific issues and topics, although he has this bad habit of dozing off during conversations. (Just like me fr)

15. He’s a heavy daydreamer, often times you can see him standing in the middle of nowhere dozing off we don’t know how he does this or how he gets himself in these situations but god is it funny.

16. He gets embarrassed easily when told he did a good job on something, Adamai rarely if ever gets compliments so telling him he’s the best guy in the world it makes him hide his face due to how red it gets.

17. He gets scared easily but not like “omg everything scares him!” More like if you come up behind him without him hearing you he will scream like a banshee.

18. He can run and I don’t mean “oh he’s just fast” HE’S PRETTY FUCKING FAST, if this man so much as sees a big ass spider he’s fuckin GONE

19. I like to believe Adamai has a huge sweet tooth. He loves to eat sweets whenever he gets the opportunity

20. He hates night shift and I mean HATES IT if he so much as hears one creek from the ceiling his ass is already out the door.

21. He has humor trust me it’s there, he isn’t one to make jokes but when he does none laughs sadly mostly because they don’t get it and Adamai has the humor of a broken down 1950’s truck. (Don’t worry Adamai I’ll laugh at your ridiculously stupid jokes)

22. He rarely sleeps (unlike qilby who’s sleep schedule is so bad that it could rival that of Xelor himself) but when he does he’s knocked out for Atleast 2 days. Adamai honey please take care of yourself I’m begging you.

23. He listens to music a lot it’s mostly to block out the annoying noise of people talking and baby’s crying for no reason

24. He can babysit (if you pay him enough) he hates it but he does it for people who need a break.

25. He gets bored easily, sometimes you can find him in the skatepark minding his own business.

Ok that’s all for now can you tell he’s my fav? And can you tell how much I love modern AU’s?

[she-karev]

The Lucas greys shot was so cute,just curious can you do a part 2 possibly. I love the Lucas Amelia link bond and Lucas and scout cousin cuteness please. Also makes me wonder if he ever told any of his add learning of it. ?

ADHD Reveal (Lucas Adams and Amelia Shepherd ADHD Imagine)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Canon Episode: Between Season 19 Episode 17 and 18

AN: Hey guys I know I’m late responding to this request but I’ve been busy with school and other one shots. I learned that October is ADHD awareness month so I thought it would be a perfect time to write this considering the theme. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think.

Summary: Amelia finds out her nephew Lucas has ADHD after accidentally ingesting his medication mistaking it for Aspirin. When she confronts him, he unloads his frustrations on her and their family for missing this.

Words: 5066

April 1st, 2023

“Adams!” Lucas Adams turns to find his chief resident, Amber DeLuca, inside the locker room holding a tablet ready to start the day, “You’re with me and Hunt today in the ER lets go.”

Lucas nods and quickly grabs his aspirin bottle to put inside his lab coat pocket. It’s not for a headache, it’s secretly storing his ADHD medication that he was recently prescribed two weeks ago with Nick Marsh’s help.

Ever since he found out he was neurodivergent Lucas felt everything come into clear focus on why no matter how hard he tries his mind wonders elsewhere. But with it comes a frustration not towards himself but towards his family. In a massive family of doctors how can a kid with clear signs of ADHD be dismissed as a problem child?

“Question Adams is today gonna be a busy or slow day in the ER?”

Lucas snaps out of his dark question to focus on his job that he hopes he can improve on now that he’s taking proper treatment and his focus is becoming more acute.

“Um doesn’t it usually vary?”

“It does.” Amber confirms, “But on April fool’s day the stupidity of the human race reaches heights even TikTok can’t record. Today people pull dangerous and straight up deadly pranks on others and guess who takes care of the damage.”

“First responders?”

“Who take them to us so we can make sure they live to see April 2nd. Now this is a popular prank, The Surfing Challenge, what are the common injuries from a teen riding a car like a surfboard?”

“Fractured pelvis, broken bones, road rash and brain injuries.”

“Correct, you’re with me all day. Any major traumas I have you will be by my side. Now normally I would request either Griffith or Kwan on my service but I personally requested you.”

Lucas looks genuinely shocked at that but knowing his boss thinks it’s a joke, “Is this an April fools prank to psych me for today?”

“Surprisingly no. I’ve noticed your improving work performance the past week, your able to multitask without royally screwing up and making mistakes that only a 1st year med student could make.”

Lucas furrows his eyebrows at that, “That was kind of a back handed compliment but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Amber states bluntly, “I’m taking you with me to really test you in a high stress environment. And the ER is the busiest room in this whole building. When patients come in, I am gonna point and yell, it’s how I operate so don’t take it personally.”

“I’ve learned not to at this point.” Lucas says as they head down the hall.

“See that is what I am talking about your finally learning, better late than never. I’m either gonna make or break you today so get your head in the game.”

“Yes Dr. DeLuca.” They enter the ER that is mostly empty this morning. Lucas spots an unopened water bottle at the station. He uncaps his aspirin bottle, pops the pill in his mouth before washing it down with the water.

“Incoming trauma two minutes out, gown and glove now!” Amber yells out to Adams who puts his aspirin bottle behind the station by a desktop before joining in on what will surely be a productive day.

Half an Hour Later

“Now you can see why you shouldn’t eat a spoonful of cinnamon.” Amber tells her teen patient who is breathing through an oxygen mask. He has brown smudges on his shirt and mouth that are from taking the cinnamon challenge. Once they opened his airway and cleared his lungs Amber set him up for oxygen therapy.

Adams looks over the chart for the lung function results, “His lungs are inflamed, should we put him on corticosteroids?”

“Let’s ask him.” Amber turns to the patient, “Simon, are you able to breathe without pain? Can you inhale without the mask? Let’s try.”

Simon takes the mask off and inhales causing him to couch violently, and Amber quickly puts the mask back on calming him down.

“Yep, give him 20 mg’s and call his parents they need to know their kid skipped school to eat cinnamon.”

Adams inserts the drug into the IV before going to the station to call Simon’s parents from the phone when he stops. The station is filled with files, tablets and pens but it’s not what’s on it that stops Lucas dead. His aspirin bottle filled with his Adderall prescription is missing.

Lucas quickly gets behind the desk and looks around the clutter for his bottle. He moves papers, puts tablets on top of the desk, and moves desktops to look in the back. His heart races as the gravity of this hits him, his Adderall is missing possibly in the hands of a doctor or nurse who is unknowingly taking speed.

Amber hears the clutter and looks to find her intern behind the desk moving objects around frantically. She sighs at the sight not expecting Lucas Adams to make a mess so soon after their shifts start. Amber turns to the nurse who looks puzzled by the scene as well.

“Monitor him please, I will be right back.” Amber snaps her gloves off and approaches her intern with a stern face. He doesn’t see her coming as he is on the floor of the station looking around the dirty floor.

“Adams I am almost afraid of what the answer might be but I am going to ask, what are you doing?”

Lucas’s head pops up from under, “Somebody took my aspirin, I need to find it.”

“I had high hopes for you today, Adams, it was a first and now it’s the last.” Amber pinches the bridge of her nose, “Aspirin is a dime a dozen ask a nurse to get you another-”

“No I need that bottle!” Lucas exclaims standing up and seeing his boss narrowing her eyes at him.

“Two things, 1. You do not interrupt me again, 2. You will tell me what is so important about that specific aspirin that warrants you to yell at the woman who can fire you with one call. Go.”

Lucas inhales and exhales to keep his anxiety under control before explaining in a hushed voice, “I was diagnosed with ADHD two weeks ago and the neurologist prescribed Adderall to take. I carry it with me inside a bottle of aspirin that I left at this station, and it’s gone which means someone took it with them by mistake.”

Amber stands there frozen for a moment to process before she laughs scaring Lucas who looks at her in shock. She laughs like it’s the funniest thing for a few moments before forming coherent words.

“Y-You’re pranking me, right?” Amber asks with a wide smile, “This is an April fools’ prank, oh Adams you almost gave me a heart attack, good on you.”

Lucas stands there frozen in place with a remorseful face that Amber sees causing her to gulp as her smile begins to die.

“Why aren’t you laughing? Laugh Adams so I know your messing with me, please!” Lucas looks down at his feet in fear causing Amber to frown as she realizes he’s telling her the truth. The chief resident inhales deeply to keep calm so that they don’t raise suspicion before moving closer to the intern asking in a low voice that sends shivers down Adams spine.

“Are you telling me that a doctor or nurse might be taking your ADHD medication by mistake causing them to be impaired and a danger to patients?”

Lucas stands there scared to give an answer that might have him punched. However, he knows silence will ensure his death so he gives a quick nod causing Amber to groan and turn to Owen Hunt who just entered the pit.

“Hunt!” Owen freezes at that shout that he registers as panic, “I need to attend to an emergency outside the pit and I need Adams with me.”

“DeLuca, we got patients, and they need-”

“Hunt I would never ask this of you unless it was life or death you know that and if you look at my face you will see the sheer panic and anxiety that will grow unless you let me go, now!”

Hunt looks shocked by that but complies knowing the resident well enough to see her fear, “I’ll page Parker and Kwan to cover you for the next hour.”

“Thank you.” Amber turns to her intern who looks panicked as well, “You’re with me so you can watch me clean up your mess. Again.”

Later

“It must be a hell of an aspirin to go through this much trouble.”

Amber rubs her eyes at that statement, “Carl you have no idea, just run the footage at 7:13 AM that’s when we got the paramedics with the patient and when my intern put his bottle at the station. And let’s keep this between the three of us unless something horrific happens and I need to get a lawyer, so I don’t lose income for my family.”

Lucas looks down in shame at that comment knowing it would be his fault if Amber got fired for his mistake. Despite how blunt she is and how much she reprimands him, he knows it’s because it’s her job to make sure he does better next time. But even when his focus becomes clear he still screws up. It makes him more frustrated at himself and everyone else around him.

The security guard goes over the security footage of the pit at Amber’s command. Meanwhile, Amber and Lucas are speaking privately a few feet away from the desk. She speaks to Lucas in a low voice so no one can hear them.

“Why do you keep your Adderall in a bottle of aspirin?” Amber asks sternly, “They already have them in orange pill bottles telling people who they’re for and what they are.”

“I-I didn’t want people to find out. I just got diagnosed I’m trying to find my footing and I’m getting used to my meds.” Lucas replies truthfully, “Everybody already thinks I’m a screwup especially my family I didn’t want to give them an excuse to hammer on me more or reasons that explain why I screwed up so much. But I can see that I didn’t think it through.”

“Gee you think?” Amber asks sarcastically causing Lucas to look up in shame. Remorse falls on the resident who tries to mend her words, “Look I am not shaming you for being neurodivergent. Half of my classmates in med school had ADHD, as long as you are finally working on getting treatment you have my support. But you have to understand that accidentally drugging medical professionals is severely frowned upon and could lead to both of us getting fired. Do you understand now why we keep pills in orange bottles?”

Lucas nods, “Yes I understand now it won’t happen again.”

“See to it that it doesn’t.” Amber sighs looking at the tape, “We just have to hope whoever took your aspirin didn’t take any. There! I see someone reaching over the station! Run it again.”

Amber and Lucas lean forward to get a closer look at the footage. They see a woman in a lab coat rubbing her temple and leaning against the station before grabbing the bottle and taking it with her. The footage stops as her face comes to full view revealing it to be Amelia Shepherd.

Lucas sees this and sighs at this unfortunate turn of events, “And it keeps getting better.”

Later

Amber bursts through the surgical doors searching for the chief of neuro. She darts her eyes around the area hoping that Amelia is prepping and not in an OR high on speed. Amber spots Amelia speed walking to the gowning station looking jittery as she takes a pair of booties before sitting down where her leg is shaking against the floor. The chief resident knows what this means causing her to gingerly approach Shepherd.

“Dr. Shepherd.”

Amelia smiles up at the chief resident before responding at hyper pace, “Hey Amber, let me ask you do you ever have one of those days where you have all this energy in your body and you just want to work out until you get it all out? I hate running so my outlet is surgery which is where I’m headed right now. Aneurism clip it’s nothing to it, just go in and out, it’s like when my college roommate had a guy over oof let me tell you she knew the definition of in and out.”

“Okay I need you to be honest with me right now, did you take aspirin this morning?”

“Yeah it didn’t work I still got the headache and I was excited to crush a stuffed crust pizza for lunch but I wasn’t in the mood.”

Amber nods bitterly, “Yep that tracks. Okay my friend you and I are gonna take a nice walk to the attendings lounge, let’s go.” She links her arm to Amelia’s who follows confused.

“But I have a surgery.”

“No you do not, your nephew will explain in a bit just keep walking and maybe don’t talk so much for all of our sakes.” Amelia keeps quiet allowing Amber to guide her to the attendings lounge where Adams is waiting anxiously.

“I-Is she…?” Lucas asks.

“Oh yeah.” Lucas groans at that confirmation. Amber grabs a water bottle from the fridge and hands it to Amelia who paces back and forth high on speed, “Hydrate now.”

“So bossy.” Amelia sips her water and ends up chugging it empty, “Oh wow I needed that, thanks.”

“Yeah, I don’t think your gonna feel thankful with what we’re about to tell you.” Amber turns to Adams who has his hands behind his head leaning against the fridge with a worried face, “Tell her. Your aunt, your mess. I’ll be in the pit when you’re done, I’ll call Link and tell him the situation.” Amber leaves the room with Amelia looking at Lucas confused.

Lucas sighs before getting off the fridge and approaching his aunt with guilt etched on his face. Amelia is still pacing in the room, “Um aunt Amelia…that aspirin you took it wasn’t aspirin it was my Adderall for my ADHD.”

Amelia stops pacing and faces Lucas with a wide-eyed expression, “…What?”

“That was my aspirin bottle you took only I don’t keep aspirin in it I keep my Adderall in it. I was diagnosed with ADHD two weeks ago and I’ve been taking it ever since, I am so sorry.”

Amelia’s bliss extinguishes at this and is replaced with shock, “Lucas! Oh my god! I am high right now! I’m six years sober I am a mom I cannot slip especially not now!”

“I-I-I didn’t think anybody was gonna take it.” Lucas explains clumsily.

“Then why did you keep speed in an aspirin bottle to begin with?!” Amelia asks frustrated, “I almost went into surgery strung out of my mind! I am in people’s brains for a living do you know how much focus and steadiness that requires?”

“I didn’t mean to get you high. And it’s not like you knew I mean doesn’t AA make exceptions for this?”

Amelia scoffs, “Recovery means being sober at all times it’s not like cheating on a diet or skimping on chores, it could mean ruined lives! God how is it you got me involved in your mess again?”

“My mess?” Lucas asks clearly triggered, “You think this is all my fault? I tell you I’m taking meds for my neuro disorder, and you somehow turn it around and make me the Black Shepherd again? Are you freaking kidding me?!”

Amelia is startled by his yelling and he continues, “Did you ever stop to wonder why I’m like this? Hyperactivity, lack of attention, inability to focus, irritated easily, I read all of those symptoms online and it all made sense to me so why didn’t it make sense to all of you?! Everybody called me lazy and stupid even my own family and your freaking doctors, neurosurgeons how could you have missed this?!”

Amelia frowns at this as her frustration passes and guilt settles in as her nephew continues ranting, “You know I get mom and dad and even Uncle Derek but you…you know what it’s like to be different to be seen as messed up and yet you took one look at me and thought the same things they did why?! It’s not like ADHD is rare and you go into people’s brains for a living, neurological issues are yours and Uncle Derek’s main language! Maybe if any of you had seen it and caught it early, I could have gotten treatment, I could have gotten this under control, I could have been something. I could have gotten better grades, got into the best colleges like you and Derek. I could have been a better doctor but instead you like everyone else in my life thought I was stupid, why?!”

Amelia is stunned silent by this struggling to respond causing Lucas to scoff, “You know what forget it, I’m going back to the pit. At least there are people there that don’t think I’m just another lazy idiot.” With that Lucas storms out slamming the door behind him leaving Amelia to stew in her guilt.

That Night

“Okay Scout is down.” Link proclaims as he enters his ex-girlfriends living room where she is sitting on the couch looking at the coffee table in torment, “I’m gonna stay here until you feel better and make sure you call your sponsor. How are you feeling? Are the symptoms subsiding?”

“Mostly.” Amelia answers in a numb tone, “I still feel thirsty, and I still got the headache that’s grown with the knowledge that I just broke my sobriety after six agonizing years.”

Link looks at Amelia in sympathy and sits down on the couch next to her, “You thought it was aspirin, something over the counter. You didn’t intend to get high; you didn’t intend to endanger yourself, your patients or our son. It was an accident, and you won’t do it again.”

Amelia darkly chuckles, “Yeah that’s what I said over ten years ago when I accidentally drank champagne at a friend’s wedding thinking it was ginger ale. (Private Practice Season 4 Episode 20) I played it off as an accident, a mistake and I ended up prescribing myself oxy and waking up to my fiancé who OD’d beside me. I fell until I hit rock bottom and it almost killed me.”

“So, you know not to do that again.” Link encourages, “Because you know if you do your son might have to grow up without a mom around. A good mom who is trying her best even when life throws hurdles at her. You stayed sober after Ryan, you stayed sober after Christopher, you stayed sober during a pandemic. You earned those 6 years, don’t let one accident mess up your progress. You know what happens if you do so I know you won’t do that again, you just have to know that too.”

Amelia looks at Link flattered knowing no matter what they will still love each other even if they are not together anymore. She also knows he will be her cheerleader when she feels the weight of the world on her shoulders, and she will forever appreciate it.

“Thank you.” Amelia sips her water bottle.

“How are you feeling otherwise? Are you okay?”

Amelia purses her lips, “Well I feel good about keeping my sobriety, I didn’t intend to get high and I don’t intend to ever. Although I feel guilt and depressed over being the worst aunt in the entire world so that’s not great.”

“You’re not the worst aunt in the entire world.”

“My nephew says otherwise.” Amelia retorts bitterly, “And why shouldn’t he? I like everybody else in my family thought he was a mess. He never followed instructions, he had to do everything his own way, his grades were barely passable, all that time I never thought there was something to explain why he was like that. I never thought he could have a learning disorder, and I am not only a terrible aunt but a horrible doctor as well. I remove inoperable tumors; I paved the way to cure Parkinson’s and yet I couldn’t see that my nephew was suffering from ADHD.”

“You weren’t the only one who didn’t see it.” Link reminds her, “His mom didn’t see it but then again I met her so I’m guessing she had expectations for her kid bordering on perfection.”

“You have no idea.” Amelia confirms with an exasperated tone, “But I know what it’s like to be considered the Black Shepherd so I could have understood his struggles better. I could have helped him; I could have been his safe haven, but I wasn’t because his mother drove me crazy, and I avoided her except on Christmas and birthdays and Lucas was a casualty. I wasn’t around as much as I should have been, and he suffered because of it.”

“Did you get a degree in diagnosing neuro divergent disorders at the drop of a hat?” Link asks causing Amelia to glare at him, “I’m not trying to be a jerk I am just saying this disorder can be missed even by doctors like you. Maybe you could have caught this if you were around more or maybe you couldn’t, we’ll never know. What happened in the past happened and you can’t change that, that’s what they teach you in AA right?”

“Yeah.”

“How does that saying go? Accept the things you can’t change…”

Amelia inhales and exhales before finishing, “Gain the courage to change the things you can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“Yeah that’s right, you can’t change Lucas getting diagnosed sooner you and I both know that.” Amelia nods solemnly, “But you can change what happens from now on now that he’s been diagnosed. You can give him the help you wanted to give him when he was younger. Maybe when he sees how hard you’re working to make up for your lack of attention he’ll realize he has a pretty cool aunt on his side. And if he doesn’t then it’s his loss, what do you say?”

Amelia looks at Link in thought before her brain comes up with ideas to help her nephew and make up for her mistakes.

Three Days Later

Lucas is in the living room of what used to be his Aunt Meredith’s house and is how his, Griffith’s and Yasuda’s. He is reading from his flashcards that Nick Marsh gave him to help him study for the ABSITE’s.

Marsh told him it helped him pass with flying colors and thought Lucas could benefit from it as well. Lucas finds this to be true as the medical notes are easy to read with examples to help. He knows even if he caught this too late at least someone like Nick can guide him through it unlike his own family.

He hears the door opening and closing but is deep in his notes to look up, “Did you get any Chinese? I’m starving.”

“No but I brought sushi.” The familiar voice makes Lucas look up to find it’s his aunt Amelia holding up a takeout bag with a guilty face, “I thought it would be the first step in the Aunt Amelia apology train.”

Lucas is stumped by this gesture and almost wants to welcome it. However, he is still angry towards Amelia and feels his outburst was warranted. Their relationship has been fraught since he joined the program, but he feels he can’t forgive and forget knowing she like so many others let him down when he needed help the most.

He looks back down on his notes and replies icily, “I’m not hungry.”

Amelia is not mad, she knows it’s gonna take more than Japanese takeout to make up for her short sightedness, “I get it, I would give the cold shoulder too after what I said the other day. I wouldn’t be so cold and silent though I would be belligerent and give a verbal lashing that could rival yours three days ago.”

“What do you want?” Lucas asks impatiently, “Are you here to try to get me to tell your sponsor that I accidentally got you high so there’s only one screw up in the family?”

“Lucas I could be 20 years sober, and I would still be the screw up in the family.” Amelia retorts half amused, “And my sponsor believed me and didn’t change my sobriety date, so I am good on that front. Now I am moving on to making things right with my nephew who gave me an Oscar worthy speech the other day so to start I am sorry. I will elaborate further.”

Lucas holds his hand up to stop her, “Look let’s not do this. No amount of sorry is gonna change what happened and it’s not gonna make 12-year-old me get diagnosed and treated. Now I am sorry for accidentally getting you high, I can see now orange pill bottles exist for a reason and I will use them from now on. I’m working out to combat the symptoms and I’m improving on my work so much that even Amber DeLuca is impressed. We can work together without any more incidents and outbursts. Let’s just…keep things professional from now on okay? I think it’s best for all of us.”

Amelia looks hurt by this for a moment before gaining the courage to work harder on her apology, “You didn’t mean to get me high; I know that and I also know that me saying your ADHD ruined my life was a low blow. I should have handled it better, I should have taken into account why it took so long for you to get treatment. And your right things could have been different if you had gotten this diagnosed as a kid. Maybe I could have seen it if I was around more when your were a kid. College, med school, residency are all time consuming, and sacrifices were made. Also, your mom has made it her life’s mission to remind me of my mistakes every time I come and visit so that kept me away as well. I think you know as well as I do that your mother, while I love her is not the most likable person to be around for long periods of time. She can be snarky, brash, judgmental, hold on to grudges and just an outright bitch on occasion.”  

“Hey!” Lucas snaps looking up with a glare, “Just because I’m mad at her doesn’t mean I’ll stay quiet while you insult her, that’s my mother you’re talking about.”

“And she’s my sister so I get to talk bad behind her back all I want.” Lucas rolls his eyes, “My point is that I can’t change the past short of getting a time machine we can’t diagnose you earlier and support you when you needed it most. The past is in the past and there’s no way to go back and correct all the mistakes we’ve done.”

“You’re really lifting my spirits here.” Lucas remarks sarcastically still reading his notes.

“I can’t change what happened, but I can change what happens moving forward.” Lucas looks up for the first time without venom instead he has curiosity in his eyes, “You say that you could have accomplished more if we caught this earlier, you say that like it’s too late but it’s not. You’re still young, you’re an intern, you’re at the prime of your career where you have so many opportunities to live up to the family name. It’s what you want to do, and I am gonna help you do that because it’s what I would have wanted when I lived in our pedestal family’s shadow.”

Lucas looks at Amelia with tenderness at this offer as she continues, “Now I am working to develop my Parkinsons research and while it’s not nominated maybe it will win me the Catherine Fox award next year. Assisting me on that could pave the path you want and finally show our family screwed up doesn’t mean stupid. What do you say?”

Lucas sighs as his anger begins to subside with this offer. For so long he wanted to be seen as good enough in his family and now his world-class surgeon aunt is offering to help him with that. It makes him want to take her offer, but his loyalty matters more to him.

“I wish I could but I’m already helping Dr. Marsh with his genetically modified pig livers. He’s already nominated, and I hope he wins, it can give people like him and me a role model to look up to.”

Amelia is taken back by this rejection but is oddly pleased with this loyalty from her nephew, “That is very admirable of you. Nick Marsh is a good man, and he helped you when all of us failed you so he more than earned your assistance. He can help you be the surgeon he and I know you can be.”

Lucas nods at this before speaking in comfort, “Well you’re the first person besides Uncle Derek and Nick who said that about me, if that counts for something.”

Amelia grins at this start to a more stable relationship between them before the food calls to her, “Well the offer still stands but until then are you hungry for sushi now? I know it’s not Chinese but I promise I got goodies in here for us both.”

Lucas is enticed by the smell of food as his hunger grows, “What did you get?”

“Yellowtail jalapeno for me, spicy tuna on crispy rice for you and wonton tacos for both of us.”

Lucas salivates at that before putting his notes away, “Okay but I get most of the tacos.”

Amelie chuckles, “You do not want to challenge me on that trust me.” She sits down next to him on the couch taking the food out so they can eat together as a family for what will hopefully be the start of a new and better beginning between them.

[reading-stains]

hello!!do you have skk fic recs?

Introduction

Yes, I do. I’m sorry it took so long to give you a reply, but I wanted to give you a comprehensive list and was busy preparing for my last day in high school, and then I got a job 12 hours later, and then I traveled to New York for a couple Broadway workshops. But now that today’s been dealt with, I have my wonderful notes.

So here’s the gist of it. I have three focused reviews on some of my favorite Soukoku fanfics ever, but I felt like copy pasting it would kill you a little, so I’m going to use a simplified format that echoes what I once did for two other ships years ago.

Canon Space

Here I compiled four fanfics that take place in main canon spaces (so not BEAST). While I encourage you to read, I also ask you to make sure to check the tags of the actual work for any possible triggers. Furthermore, the styles these characters are written in, and the way they are portrayed, vary from writer to writer. Some are more “canon” based than others, but they all carry the essence of this ship. And if they don’t in your eyes, then you’re just reading a great novel with Japanese names. 

i'll bleed out for you by StarshipDancer

Synopsis: After getting impaled together, basically dying in each others arms in a joint mission with the Port Mafia and the ADA, and getting brought back by Yosano, this shattered Soukoku is asked to go into hiding. In this time, things seem to start healing. But the impending call asking them to return to their positions in their groups haunts them, and when it arrives, things fall apart all over again.  

Tags: Caretaking, PTSD, A Singularly Important Rat Is Present, Canon-Divergence, Post-Port Mafia Days, Love Confession, Pet Co-Parenting, Angst

Word Count: 71,848

Notes: Rattata is the best character. I remember reading this fanfic between the airport and my flight, and when chapter four ended, I had to board the plane, with my shaking hands and quiet sniffles. Please read this one.

If you kiss me (I might let it happen) by encsiimomo

Synopsis: Chuuya’s done watching this. Dazai’s literally dating a new girl every week. He dates based on who asks him first that Monday, he breaks up with them that Sunday, and it goes on again. And again. And again. It’s driving him insane. So he does the only thing he can think of to earn himself a break – He asks to date him for that week’s cycle. Dazai’s surprised. Chuuya’s exhausted. But once the sparks fly, they’re unable to be put out. 

Tags: Canon Divergent & Kind of Canon Compliant, Dark Era, Smut, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Silly

Word Count: 52,127

Notes: I loved this fic because it encapsulates a pretty carefree tone that isn’t associated with Dark Era. It’s pretty smutty, but it’s really lovely to read them. It’s not a reflection of what these characters canonically represent. And while it definitely stays as a loose interpretation of these characters, it keeps the essence that makes this ship so sharp and wonderful. I loved Oda’s appearances too, they made me laugh.

A Doll's House by Abyss_In_WonderLand_likes_sexy_cannibals

Summary: After coming to contact with an ability-powered artifact, Dazai and Chuuya are forced to work together to overcome the ability’s trials, and face the bubbling sentiments they keep trying so hard to ignore. 

Tags: Teamwork, Ability Loss, Poisoning, Denial of Feelings, Confessions, Light Angst

Word Count: 45,288

Notes: While definitely not a character study, this fic goes and shows how wonderfully warm a Double Black fanfic can be. You’ll giggle in some moments, be entranced in others, and it’s just fun. This is for those that aren’t scouring for the angst. This was the first fic that sunk me into a skk fanfiction hunt all throughout the winter holidays.

On Deathless Feet by AbsoluteNegation

Synopsis: Chuuya always knows the monster can get out of control, but it doesn’t get any less surprising when Arahabaki powers through him. For a while though, it’d been comforting to know Dazai could always reign it in, make it go quiet. Because he did when they recently met, when they rose through the ranks, and at the brink of their end. But after years of disconnection, and the consistent waves of betrayal, is Chuuya capable of trusting him? And is Dazai capable of letting him?

Tags: Caretaking, Controlling Arahabaki, Port Mafia, Post-Port Mafia, Mistrust, Non-Linear Storytelling

Word Count: 71,848

Notes: This story is just breathtaking. The writing style is incredibly vast and detailed, which may seem scary when described, but it flows so easily when you read it. You cannot negate AbsoluteNegation’s incredible skill. The story takes place in an event where Chuuya loses control of Arahabaki in a  Post-Port Mafia Soukoku time. But because of its non-linear style, one gets to understand their past experiences with each other in a manner that contextualizes and weighs in the events of their reunion. 

Fanon Spaces

Before I begin, I’d like to note that there are so many AUs in this fandom, that I had to really search for the canon ones in my list. So understand that if you want more of these, I DEFINITELY have more of these. Also, again, while I encourage you to read, I also ask you to make sure to check the tags of the actual work for any possible triggers. 

I’ll crown your inner child with laurel by acuteguwu

Synopsis: Chuuya has worked in a Michelin Star restaurant. So he really has no place in losing this cooking competition. But a sudden newcomer, who seemingly has no previous experience in the field, seems to want to tell him his bechamel sauce isn’t ready. And really, who does he think he is?

Tags: Chef Competition AU, Character Study, Slow Burn, Chuuya Is A Blunt Perfectionist, Dazai Is A Culinary Genius

Words: 197,090

Notes: I read this in two days, and I finished by waking up at four in the morning to finish up before going to a drag queen brunch. So really, my experience was incredible. You get to really know these characters, who are very themselves, and it’s lovely. Please read, it’s so worth it.

music for our funeral by itotypes

Synopsis: Dazai has always been lost on what exactly he wants to be. Chuuya knows exactly what he wants. Working with such incredible differences proves to be a difficult challenge, ending in at least a little bit of violence multiple times, but they make it work. Because their music sounds beautiful. Because they’re better geniuses beside the other. And maybe because once it started, they can’t seem to process this journey can ever end.

Tags: No Smut, Angst, 70s, Musicians!AU, Drug Abuse, References to Child Neglect, Lowkey Pretty Violent, Emotional Cheating (w/ Main Ship)

Word Count: 67,723

Notes: Look, there’s a whole genre of Soukoku music AUs. And I could tell you to read the famous “still, still, still” by icedlightroast, or the even more famous “I Was Screaming Your Name Through The Radio” by ElectricSplatter. Which really, they’re both INCREDIBLE fics that I think you should read (IWSYNTTR literally inspired me to try and write music, which led me to do an album for a school project, so I’m not kidding when I say they’re life changing), but I also know that these are famous fanfics that you can find in almost any big skk reader thread. So disregarding the following recommendation, I try to give you fanfics I found through a long scrolling process. 

Everything or Nothing by Wellthathappened (Cataclysmic_Calamity)

Synopsis: Chuuya has never been able to experience much. So when he meets Dazai on the night of orientation, he lets himself explore. So as lips sink into his, and as he lets himself be free, Dazai lets him know how unimportant he is by walking away when kids walk in on them. Cut to a month later, they’re paired as roommates, Chuuya’s gotten what Dazai insists is a douchey boyfriend, and Dazai Osamu has to recognize it wasn’t true. It wasn’t a night’s fluke. He really, definitely isn’t straight.

Tags: College AU, Pinning, Chronic Illness, Creation & References Of Illegal Panini Rings,  Confessions, Miscommunication, Past Sexual Abuse, Bad Parenting, Cute Dates, Dazai’s Really Rich

Word Count: 264,937

Notes: I recognize I just put in my notes that there’s no major point in recommending these big fanfics, but I just read this because the person that introduced me into the fandom in the first place really loves this one. And it’s incredible. Worth every moment. I laughed a lot, and cried a lot. It’s those pieces of work that resound with you that keep you engaged. This one builds off of that.

Inseparable by milwritescausewhynot

Synopsis: Dazai and Chuuya have been joined to the hip since day one. But they’re not best friends. Or enemies. Or, worst of all, lovers. They are, however, great at pranking each other. Until one goes close to dangerous, and things begin getting complicated afterwards. 

Tags: High School AU, Pranks, Light Angst, Denial, Pining, Confessions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Crazy Kouyou, Childhood Friends, No Smut

Word Count: 107,804

Notes: I hadn’t saved this one in my compilation, but I couldn’t not find it. This fic is so charming, and I most enjoy how the characters move through the story. You can feel the way they're in-tuned from the get go. Definitely recommend.

In Conclusion

Again, I’m sorry for such a late response. I’m literally falling asleep right now but I felt too guilty leaving this for tomorrow morning. If you have any questions, notes, or looking for something specific for your reading, we can talk about it. 

Anyways, thanks for asking! Hope you love them, and sorry for any mistakes

[aeolianblues]

hate the expectation that life has to revolve around work. A workplace should be a part of your life, not that your life is a part of work, wholly devoted to and subsumed by it. Maybe because I am still fairly new to the concept of this kind of work (2nd year at it) but I hate the idea that work dictates how late I can be awake. I moonlight in music and radio. Gigs start after 9 pm. Gigs go on until 12 am. Now sure, work might say you can do whatever you want outside of work, but does it walk the walk? Schedule a daily meeting at 6 am. All of a sudden I’m a home-bound crone that needs to be in bed at 10 pm. Sorry, I’m not a gig goer anymore. I didn’t get old, there’s no physicality preventing this. I just got a job that decides on a whim that they can set up meetings with colleagues at 5:46 am, for 6 AM. Suddenly I am not a gig goer anymore. Work has the power to dictate what I do outside of my time at work.

I have probably mused to some of you privately that I would so like to try out Carlos O’Connell’s red and neon green hairstyle. But, I have always said, with a caveat that would blow a peasant’s mind, I Have A Job. Why should that make an impact!? You’ve got to wonder. Some shit about you representing your work outside of work. Even though no one could ever look at me and immediately go, ah [redacted company name].

I am not my job. I am not a brand. I am not an advertisement for my place of work. There are tacit ways in which snakes will sit atop senior management. If you’re keen on image, you should be more worried about their activities than mine. I am a person that carries on living when I leave the workplace. When I shut my laptop. When I step out that door. When I talk to a friend. When I’m at a concert. I am not my job.

Maybe I am still stupidly naive, but I am completely transactional about jobs. You give people your time and expertise to help them achieve some task, and in return they give you money and a cheers for helping them solve their problems. It ends there. It is not a full-day thing. It is not my ‘personality’. It should not result in me spending 1/3 of my day; my life at it.

It’s not voluntary, is it? It’s not optional. They’ve left no other way to earn enough to survive. We are not doing full-time jobs to earn extra income. We do it because it doesn’t pay ENOUGH though you’re toiling away 9-12 hours out of a presumably 18 hour day where you must also eat and travel TO work, and then prepare your lunch and dinner for the next day because workplaces can’t even budge enough to give you for ‘free’ the food you’ll take back to your desk to work while eating.

It’s not enough. It isn’t proportional. For the amount of hours they make us put in, we should be paid enough to have our every whim satisfied, and yet we struggle with needs. We're budgeting for groceries after working for 10 hours. Houses aren't even in the conversation. After working all day, I still have to weigh up whether is like to live so far away that my work commute should count as tourism, o'r whether I should share house with so many strangers that you'd think we were a family. Do I want to rent a broken house or one with no kitchen exhaust? One that tells me to just 'open the windows' to deal with it when it's -25 degrees outside or one with known pipe issues? One with the notifier worst landlords in town or one essentially in the next town? Where I will still be paying way too much to be so remote. That, after working all day, is still too high a fraction of my income. We’re under the surface or balancing on the knife’s edge.

And then work takes over so strongly that our non-work hours must be structured around work’s convenience. I’m so tired. When did we let this happen.

[plusdanshii]

conviction part 2

(it was taking too long so i had to split it into 3 parts. theres nothing explicit in this part, its all build up for part 3, just misery porn 👍 heres part one)

care jolts awake with a shiver so strong it wracks through her body like an earthquake, it almost has her slipping off the edge of her bed. …what time is it right now?? uncertain of whether she’s really awake, she immediately swings her wrist up to her face. 4:17 pm. she had only slept for seven hours. the sun hasn’t even begun to set yet. still, she doesn’t let go of the exhale shes holding it because the fact that the brothel is still closed for today and she doesn’t have enough and bailey only demands the money on time. it probably won’t be tomorrow, but she will be being shipped off to be executed.

outside her window a gust of wind sweeps by and she can see the trees leaves sway, flutter and flick all over. the clouds are minimal in quantity, light, and slowly inch across a saturated blue sky like ginormous snails. the sun is only just visible from where she can see. in an hour or two it will be completely out of sight and hanging over the other side of town, leaving the orphanage cold and looking darker than ever.

as care takes in the sight, she thinks, “when im dead, it will all look exactly the same.”

with the slowness of a cow she leans back, and allows her head to fall against her pillow. siphoned, she grabs her blanket and raises it up to her neck. the expression she has on her face seems to be the cousin of the expression someone in a casket wears; horrifically grey and lifeless. she may as well try to fall asleep again. sleep is the only time she is ever truly at peace. wouldn’t you like to experience true peace before you die? with the smallest exhale finally escaping her body she closes her eyes again. there had been one last thing to see with them, she supposes.

｡｡｡

one hour passes. she cannot fall asleep again. she doesn’t even enter r.e.m. for an hour she just lies in bed perfectly still and breathes. staying, waiting to die. the tiniest, quietest, timorous voice inside of her finds the courage to whisper and ask, “is there really nothing else you can do?”

her eyes open, and reflexively her head almost snaps toward her window.

the clouds and the sun are both gone from where she can see them. they’ve left her behind.

well, she guesses she still had options, but none of them are sufficient enough. she could have spent the entire day walking all over town and patiently expect to be catcalled from a car, get fucked by the catcaller, get paid 80 pounds maximum and walk away with her dignity nonexistent, but she doesn’t get catcalled by strangers nearly as much anymore. it’s very strange because it used to be something that happened multiple times per hour. word had gotten out very quickly that the untouchable bailey’s only daughter is all by herself for atleast 12 hours a day now, vulnerable and helpless.

the verbal harassment and obscenities that were hurled at her! it was on par with the physical torment she has to endure. but all of a sudden the catcalling in general had abruptly halted. very sudden it dramatically braked in frequency. it still happens if course, but not nearly as much as it did before. it feels as if now when shes catcalled its because they just want an easy target and not just baileys daughter. so even if she had spent the entire day walking around waiting to be harassed, it would have only happened a few times. and she knows for certain the money would have been nowhere near enough. so she saved herself the anguish of even attempting it.

and her masseur job. the money is pretty decent, and compared for what happens to her on a daily basis the harassment she faces there is minimal. one of her most preferred jobs honestly but even if she worked there all day today the money would be good, but not enough. her debt had raised to 2000€. she has 937 pounds in piggy bank right now exactly. the pay of one 8 hour shift at the spa is the equivalent of just 4 cilents at briars. when it comes to making alot of money in a short amount of time there isnt any job as reliable as pimping herself out. until today.

a couple minutes pass her by and then sits up. checking her watch, the time says 5:20 pm.

not quite alive, and still not quite dead. even the build up has to be drawn out. okay. if that’s how it has to be, then she’ll draw it out for as long as she can too.

｡｡｡

the bath today is also more comforting than its ever been. usually at the end of her working days shes too mentally and physically spent to comprehend how relaxing a bath can be. shes only concerned with scrubbing herself raw and getting all the cum out of her ass and pussy. the water is hot and all embracing. if the bathtub wasn’t so small for her she would submerge herself fully and pretend shes returning back to the womb. she curls up on herself and it only works half as well.

she had just brought a 3 pack of some flowery scented, pink-reddish colored soap bar the other day. a different choice from the castille liquid soap she usually only gets. what a waste, she thinks, it smells so lovely and i wont even get the chance to use half of a bar. she uses up as much of one whole bar as she can. with the scratchy side of her washcloth and a will of iron. she doesn’t remember the last time she took a bath with so many suds, it looked like a 40:50 ration of bubbles to water. by the end of the bath two-thirds of the soap bar had disappeared and care feeling as if she had just bathed like a princess.

quickly she dries herself, and while buttoning up her pajama shirt her ears pick up on fragmented sentences of two different voices.

“not enough… this week… too much…”

“dont care… not my problem…—“

thats the voice of bailey and an orphan. the voice of bailey and an orphan arguing about money.

her heart catapults itself.

thats right. thats right, bailey stays at the orphanage layer than he usually does during the last days of the month. he works more than usual, is less even less patient and more irritatable, and stays in his office until 9pm during the last few days of the month. all the orphans, including herself, especially dread these days because somehow bailey gets more persistent and demanding than he usually is. an impossibly egregious, all encapsulating and inescapable scenario.

grabbing her stuff and not checking or caring to see if she’s left anything, she practically flies to her room.

the very second she’s able to calm herself down somewhat, something happens and her heartbeat is back to its usual bullet train pace. of course. she didn’t even manage to button up her shirt all the way. she just needed time get away as quickly as possible. in less than 24 hours he’ll barge into her room and throw her to the wolves (and worse). though shes not fully present, she hangs out her towel and washcloth to dry and outs her uniform away. an unconscious routine. the time on her wristwatch says 6:10 pm. suddenly, all of the fragile, serenity her room brought her earlier has all gone up in smoke.

although she isn’t the least bit tired care lies in her bed. minutes pass. tye breakneck speed of her beating heart doesnt slow in the slightest. she closes her eyes, more minutes pass. nothing changed. everything is always so fucking dragged out. prolonged. tentative. slow. enough, enough already. this worthless sadistic nonsense, the lowest kind of sideshow entertainment. just sitting and waiting to die. now two fistfuls of of her blanket are bunched up in her hands, so hard they shake and her knuckles have turned white. this is just her life. everything that has happened until now has all led up to this. her lying in her bed and just counting the seconds until her execution. she stares into the decrepit ceiling with the same expression as earlier, takes a deep inhale, and then sits up.

[skzhocomments]

Dear Diary, - Kim Seungmin Fanfic - Chapter 12

General Masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

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Chapter 12

Chapter word count: ~3.1k words

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4th of November Dear Diary, Once again, I’ve failed to keep my promise of writing every day. Hell, I haven’t even been writing every month. I’m truly sorry, future me. You’re definitely sick of my shit. But imagining your (my) annoyed expression makes me laugh, so, I guess I’ll keep going this way! I didn’t really have time to write because my first month of Uni was chaotic to say the least. Chaotic, but also quite… lonely? I guess I miss having Yuna around. My room is too quiet and feels large now that she’s not living here anymore. I’m glad she decided to keep the contract though, and that I don’t have another roommate. I don’t think I’d hit the jackpot twice. So, anyway, let me tell you how my first month went. Classes, classes, Seungmin, classes, meet-up with Yuna, classes, eating lunch at the cafeteria and seeing Changbin again, classes, Changbin is no longer ignoring me, we’re actually talking and becoming friends again although the feelings are no longer there, classes, classes, photography club, more classes and studying. Okay. I need to confess something. I’ve been feeling quite… confused? lately. My chest’s been feeling tight and it’s like I can’t breathe normally, and I have no idea why. Every time I go out of my room and see Seungmin, my heart starts running laps. I feel like I’m in elementary school again and having a hopeless crush. I’m NOT saying that I have a crush on Seungmin, God forbid! He’s just my friend!!! But… I don’t even know how to explain it, it’s like if we accidentally touch hands, there’s fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach, and I don’t know what the fuck happened for me to feel this way. Obviously, we talked every day during summer, then there was the dinner with Jeongin and Yuna WHO BTW ARE GETTING MARRIED IN LIKE A FEW MONTHS?!!??! WE’RE GOING DRESS SHOPPING IN A FEW WEEKS! And ever since the semester started, Seungmin and I have been seeing each other every single day, we’re talking pretty much our whole free time, and it just feels… natural? So now my heart is doing this stupid thing, and I don’t know what to think about it and I don’t even want to think about it because I’m scared as fuck, and I don’t want another Distraction™ when I should be focusing on Uni. Not repeating last year’s mistakes, that’s for sure. Anyway, rant over, I gotta go! Kisses, Phoebe

“So, it’s been more than a month. Have you thought about it?” Seungmin says all of a sudden as I’m munching on a sandwich from the cafeteria.

“About what?”

“Bee, please chew your food and swallow it before replying, you’re disgusting.” He tuts.

“Or don’t ask me questions while I’m eating!”

“I’m serious, stop it, you could choke and die.” He snatches the sandwich away from my hands and takes a big bite.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Shut up, I’m hungry.”

“Then you should’ve gotten one!” I pout.

“Why would I, when I have yours right here?” He chuckles, taking another bite before I launch at him, grabbing my sandwich back.

“You prick.”

“Says you-”

“ANYWAY,” I cut him off, “what were you saying?”

“Oh, right. I meant, about the job at my dad’s company.”

“Oh… I don’t know, Minnie. What type of job is it again?”

“Well, I have certain tasks, and since my hours have been cut in half ever since starting the semester, it’s hard for me to complete them in a timely manner. Your job would essentially be helping me manage mine.” Seungmin explains, opening a bottle of water and handing it to me.

“Thanks.” I smile, taking a gulp. “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Right?” He grins.

“Although you’re a bit insufferable…” I add under my breath, making sure he’s heard it.

“Say that again and I’ll reconsider helping you study for the exams.”

“Nevermind, you’re the greatest man I’ve ever met!” I immediately exclaim, to which Seungmin lets out a scoff and a chuckle.

“So, my dad wants to meet you for dinner on Friday, and if he likes you, you’ll start next week.”

“Seungmin! You can’t drop a bomb like that on me all of a sudden!” I gasp.

“I didn’t know he’d want that either.” He shrugs. “He called and dropped it on me this morning.”

This is nerve wrecking. I think.

~

“This is nerve wrecking.” I say, looking at Seungmin who seems way too indifferent to the whole ordeal.

He is currently driving us towards his parents’ house, and while he seems relaxed, I’m losing my mind in the seat next to his, thinking of all the ways this dinner could go wrong.

“Don’t worry too much, Bee.”

“Minnie, this is essentially a job interview. A job interview where I have to be dressed to the nines and show I have good manners and not embarrass myself in front of your parents, which, to be honest, I have no idea why I have to meet for this job. Oh, God, what if your mom doesn’t like lilies? Maybe I should’ve picked something else, maybe-”

“Stop it already.” Seungmin says with a slight chuckle. “You’re overthinking it.”

“I’m stressed.”

“I can see that.” He nods. “Alright, let’s take a breather.”

As he says this, he pulls the car in a parking lane and places his hand on top of mine, trying to stop me from fidgeting.

I look right into his eyes, which look very tender and slightly concerned. My heart skips a beat again.

“There’s no reason to be so nervous.” He speaks softly, his tone reassuring. “My parents are nice people, and besides, you don’t have to impress them or anything like that. They just want to meet you and find out who you are, since you’re going to be helping me starting next week, and my tasks are very important.”

“But you said your father will decide if I’m a good fit tonight, and that means that if he doesn’t like me-”

“I was just messing with you, Bee.” He chuckles. “My father is strict and a bit of a control freak, but he trusts my judgement, so when I told him about you, he didn’t question it. So, don’t worry, you’ve already passed the ‘job interview’ when you’ve shown me how much you can do this summer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, so stop spiralling. This is just a casual dinner, yeah?”

“O-okay.” I nod unsure, and when Seungmin sees that I’ve calmed down, he resumes driving.

I am still sceptical, because Seungmin also doesn’t seem too relaxed; although he is trying to look composed, he also seems slightly on edge, and I’m not sure why.

~

This is not a casual dinner. I think as soon as we sit down at the large table in the dining room, a large chandelier right above it. The way it sparkles distracts me, but I try to focus and smile at whatever story Seungmin’s mother is saying, as a butler brings us some drinks.

I knew that Seungmin’s family was wealthy, but I didn’t know exactly how wealthy they are. However, as soon as we arrived and the gates swung open and I could see a large mansion looming at the end of a long driveway, as soon as Seungmin stepped out of the car and handed his keys to a valet, and as soon as we stepped inside the house, I got the hint that whatever I imagined about rich people couldn’t even compare to the real thing.

Although Yuna lent me a formal dress for this event, I still felt underdressed when I met Seungmin’s mother and saw how elegantly she is carrying herself, how her wrists and neck are adorned with expensive jewellery, and how her hair is perfectly styled.

Seungmin’s father is no different, and watching how confidently he sits down at the head of the table, I see the resemblance between him and his son. Seungmin’s mannerisms are the same as his dad; polished, each movement careful and precise.

“So, tell us a bit about yourself, dear.” His mother asks me with a soft expression, and once again, I am able to see the resemblance.

Seungmin’s kindness is his mother’s gift for sure.

“Okay…” I whisper softly, under my breath, and my eyes instantly travel to Seungmin’s, who is sitting right next to me, to my left.

He gives me an encouraging nod, and I nod back, smiling.

You got this, Bee.

“My name is Lee Phoebe. Uhm, first of all, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Seungmin is always speaking fondly of his family, and-”

“We know your name already, and there’s no need to butter us up.” His dad cuts me off, taking me off guard. I smile awkwardly, and I feel Seungmin tense next to me.

“Darling, let the girl speak, she already seems nervous.” His mother intervenes with a frown, but her words ring in my head repeatedly. Is it that obvious that I’m nervous? “What were you saying, dear?”

“I was just, uhm…” I shift in my seat, feeling all eyes on me.

All of a sudden, it’s like I forgot how to speak. I start fidgeting my hands under the table, and it’s hard to raise my gaze and look Seungmin’s parents in the eyes when they seem so unimpressed by anything I’d have to say.

What do I even have to say, anyway? There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m not particularly smart, I’m not an excellent student, I don’t come from a well-off family… what could I even say?

“What is it? Can’t say anything else?” His father says again, making me tense. I open my mouth to say something, but I just can’t.

I don’t know what to say.

“Dad, stop it.” Seungmin says, his voice firm.

“Son, she can’t even speak. What good would she bring our company?” His father replies sternly. “Just because you’re seeing someone doesn’t mean you have to do business with them. Keep those two affairs separate.”

“What?!” Seungmin scoffs, and my eyes widen. “Alright, let’s get out of here. I knew this dinner was a bad idea.” He stands up, urging me to follow.

“Seungmin, darling, please stay a bit longer. At least for dinner.” His mother tries pleading with him.

His father looks at him disappointed, and orders him to sit down, but Seungmin won’t hear it. He grabs my arm and urges me to stand up.

I can’t believe that’s what they think about me, about us.

In his father’s eyes, I must just be someone who is trying to climb the social ladder, and Seungmin is just a fool.

But it’s not true. How could he say that?!

“It’s not like that.” I say under my breath, before clearing my throat and saying it louder. “It’s not like that. Seungmin would never do that, and being his father, you should know better.”

My words come out calmly, yet firmly, carrying certainty and a quiet authority that I didn’t know I possessed. I take myself by surprise as I look straight into his father’s eyes, who raises a curious eyebrow, however, even my gaze is steady. I won’t look away. I can’t. Not when he has such a low opinion about his own son, who is nothing less than perfect.

“It’s okay, Bee, you don’t have to listen to this nonsense, let’s just go.”

“No.” I look at Seungmin, who looks back at me with a large frown. “We came here to have dinner with your parents, and that’s what we will do.”

“Yes, that sounds like such a beautiful idea, don’t you think, darling?” Seungmin’s mother looks at his dad and smiles, trying to calm the waters.

“Yes. It would be rude to leave in the middle of dinner, son.”

“Whatever.” Seungmin sits back down, his chair scratching the floor’s tiles, and he is clearly annoyed. I try grabbing his hand under the table to show him that I’m fine, and that I’m sorry, but he’s quick to retract his and essentially push me away.

“So, you said Seungmin would never hire someone based on their perception of them?” His father looks at me again, curiosity brimming in his eyes.

“No, I never said that. Everyone hires others based on their perception of them. What I meant was, Seungmin would never let any personal feelings get in the way when deciding important matters. And as a matter of fact, we are not seeing each other. I feel the need to clarify that Seungmin and I are just colleagues and nothing more.”

His father seems pleased enough to hear my words, but everything I said hurts me. Seungmin doesn’t look at me and doesn’t add anything to what I’ve just said, which somehow bothers me once again.

We are just colleagues and nothing more.

Do I really feel something for him? Do I really wish he was more than just a colleague, more than just a friend who helps me study, who taught me photography and who always takes care of me in his own way?

I don’t even know how I feel, this is ridiculous.

“Why do you think he wants you to work with him, then?” His father continues asking.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’m not sure, as I’m not particularly excellent when it comes to studying or solving difficult problems. Maybe it’s because I catch quickly on things, or maybe it’s because I’m ambitious and hate being left behind, and he’s seen me previously see my tasks to the end and accomplish what I was set to do. I don’t think you should ask me this question, though, when he’s sitting right here.”

“I see.” He chuckles, all the while Seungmin turns to look at me. He opens his mouth to say something, but he closes it again a second later and looks away.

I wonder what he wanted to say.

I wonder why he didn’t say it.

“I believe he told you already you’re going to start on Monday. This is a part-time position, but the hours are flexible. As long as you finish the tasks you receive, you can make your own schedule. Now, I’m sure dinner is ready, so let’s eat.” He signals to the butlers to bring out the dishes, and so, trays with food are brought to the table, and we continue chatting about unrelated things, all the while I shift uncomfortable in my seat.

~

The dinner went as awkwardly as I thought it would, if not worse.

Now, back in the comfort of Seungmin’s car, I can’t help but still feel uncomfortable. He hasn’t said a word to me after what I pulled at the dinner table.

We drive in silence for what feels like ages, and I get so anxious, I feel like I might get sick. My stomach starts hurting.

“Seungmin?” I try to initiate a conversation, but he doesn’t seem too receptive.

“Mhm?”

“Are you mad at me?” I ask, but he just shakes his head.

My anxiety only grows, clawing away at my insides, making me instantly grimace.

“I’m sorry that I insisted to stay when you clearly wanted us to leave, I just wanted to-”

“To what?” He looks at me, before turning his eyes back to the road and letting out a sigh.

A moment later, he pulls over and stops the car, looking at me properly.

I’m not sure why, but seeing him so angry at me makes my eyes water. I try to swallow the knot in my throat and calm down, but it’s difficult.

“I didn’t want him to say that about you.” I reply quietly.

“Yeah, and I didn’t want you to have to sit there and listen to that bullshit.” He counters back, his tone still irritated.

“Well, you brought me there-”

“And that’s why we should’ve left when I said we should go. Why would you go so out of your way to defend me? For what?!”

“Because I like you!” I say and am immediately mortified.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

I think quickly while Seungmin seems to process what I’ve just shouted at him, before I find the way to articulate the words differently. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea – or rather, the right idea.

Do I even like him?

Why the fuck would I say that?

“You’re my precious friend and you’re so capable and good at what you do, and your morals are set in stone, and I won’t let anyone say otherwise, not even your parents. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, but there’s that!”

What I said is true. Well, it’s not the full truth, just half the confession. I think I’ve covered up my initial mishap quite well.

“Thank you for having my back, Bee, and I’m sorry I exploded at you.” He speaks softly after a little while. “The relationship I have with my father is quite complicated. He’s always trying to find faults in everything I do, and when he said he wants to meet you, I never in a million years thought he would hint at us dating.”

“To be honest, it really took me off guard.” I laugh uncomfortably, a pang of hurt straight to my heart. “I mean, it’s ridiculous to think that. Us, dating? Really? How could that ever happen, right?”

“… Yeah.” Seungmin nods slowly, and my chest aches. I definitely shouldn’t have asked, because now, hearing his simple reply, it’s so obvious that whatever this is – this hopeless crush of mine – is just that. Hopeless.

“Anyway, I didn’t want to make things awkward with your parents, and I’m sorry if I did.”

“I think my dad was quite amused, to be honest. He didn’t expect you to talk back to him for sure.” He chuckles.

“By the way, Minnie, that reminds me!”

“What?”

“He asked me why I thought you wanted to work with me, and after I replied, you turned to me to say something. What was it?” I tilt my head to the side, waiting for him to reply.

“You know how you just said that I’m whatever and whatever and you won’t let anyone say otherwise?”

“Yeah…? But wait, is that what you got from my HEARTFELT speech?” I gasp dramatically, and he lets out a chuckle.

“Point is, I feel the same way towards you. In my eyes, you’re extremely capable, and good at what you’re doing, and passionate, and I won’t let anyone say otherwise, not even you. Think more highly of yourself.”

“Wow, that was… unexpected.” I blink a couple of times. Did I really hear him right?

“And also, what kind of dumbass says they are not particularly excellent at anything when essentially at a job interview? Idiot.” He flicks my forehead, so I let out a loud “Ouch!” and I attack him back, playfully hitting his arm.

Although we resolved the misunderstanding and he no longer seems mad at me, I can’t shake away the sting of the thorn in my heart. The same thorn I stupidly stabbed myself with by asking him such a ridiculous question.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut, because now I know for sure he doesn’t feel whatever it is that I’m feeling.

~

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

[magpiemoon6]

Love me in the dark

(chapter 2)

DBF Simon Riley x OC

Summary - Maevis and Simons prank war questions what they are to each other because strangers doesn't feel correct.

Theme - angst, smut, fluff

Warnings - trauma dumping, smoking, arguments, self hate, age gap ( 12 years), smut- voyeurism, self pleasure, pet names.

He’s still in my head, circling my thoughts every single second I breathe, those eyes haunt me in my sleep so full of pain. Dragging myself to deal with the day scheduled of course as if dear old Dad could cope without complete control, probably have a heart attack. Padding into the kitchen only for my breath to hitch. Mother of fuck. Simon’s standing, boiling the kettle in grey sweats. Just grey sweats. Sweet Jesus I’m salivating, my eyes are glued to his tattoos on his back the ink details that litter his back, song with areas of white skin. Between his shoulder blades is an interactive drawing of an angel with tattered wings that spread the blades of his shoulders. I’m physically choking on air while I stare, I can't stop.

And then it clicks, in a childish fit last night- at 2 in the fucking morning when his face was making me weak in the knees and electrocuting my skin- I decided to act like a spoiled child. Stomping into the kitchen, my glare zoning into the kitchen where he stood making tea only a few hours ago, I quickly ripped the sugar container from its place, dumping the contents in a spare bowl. My fingers search for the salt. His words about me being a daddies girl as if he knows our relationship, the fact ‘daddy’ left with no answers because it was easier than admitting his career destroyed our relationship and the phone doesnt go both ways when your fucking ten.

I rip off the salt lid and pour it into the original sugar jar and then pour the sugar into the salt container. Cleaning the mess in a haze of glee and popping it all back I practically hopped into my room. 

Shit do i tell him? Yes, that's the mature thing someone my age, with a big girl job, would do.

“Princess if you stare at my back any harder it's gonna leave a mark,” he teases, turning around as he stirs his tea smugly. The smirk on his face angers me to unrivalled levels, but also forces me to pull together from the nickname. Of course he fucking notices this but can’t seem to notice a car moving. Fuck it, he can drink the salty tea.

Simons pouring unknowingly salt into his tea as I turn back to my room and yell out.

“Enjoy your tea Simon!” I sprint the second I’m out of his view, locking my door instantly.

It doesn’t take long for me to hear my name being bellowed by Simon

“Maevis get your ass out here now!” He practically threatens standing in front of my door.

“Sorry Simy can't pop in the shower, need anything?” inquiring as innocently as I can. I'm dying inside knowing the hissy fit this man is about to pull.

I begin to undress for the shower when I hear him.

“Maevis.”  I see Simon as I peek out of the shower. “Simon.”I'm waiting to see what he will do.

“Now Maevis.” “No thank you I’d rather not,” I quip and slam the shower for him to hear and carry on. 

Fuck him.

Simon’s pov- 

She is nothing like her father, she's reckless and childish, changing the sugar for salt? Is she 10 years old for the love of fuck.

The buzz of voices in the garden as people socialise, moving in fluttery movements unsure of who to chat about their waiting for the crappy wine to be soaked up and the fuzz of being drunk fogs their fears of being judged. I remain in a corner, feeling the rose thorn prick me ever so gently. I observe the guests hop from one group to the next, wondering how I ended up here. I'm here because my ex-captain when I was a recruit helped me out, and now I'm here as his best man around people I don't know asking questions i dont want and having to see her. 

The air smells like the nearby vineyard filling my head with the sweetness, the bitterness from the salt is still on my tongue even with the whiskey. my eyes scan the groups of people and the moment my eyes land on her finally my mind is consumed by her once again. She is the most beautiful person I've ever seen. The green dress hugs her curves with a side slit showing the thigh tattoo that curls its way on her flesh, inked flowers. pretty. My eyes rise to dress, my god. My eyes nearly fall out when she turns around to talk to someone. In her hair her body again. I'm stuck and for the first time in  my life I'm flustered, until she smiles slightly and sticks her tounge out at me. All those thoughts of her die and leave me remembering how childish she is. 

Still watching her, she turns her body back to the stranger laughing and it warms a part of me I don’t want to think about, her chatter distracts me from her now pointing her finger at me and moving away pushing the stranger in my direction. For fuck sakes Maevis, wanna play? Let's play princess.

Maevis pov:

God he’s gorgeous, the white linen shirt he has on is open at the top and cuffed at his elbows showing off those tattoos but catching him staring at me is making me force my legs together from the warmth that is developing. ive pushed a very enthusiastic old lady towards him hoping to push his temper if it meant he’ll come find me and tell me off.

Walking away, weaving through the herds of people and reaching an outer corner to hide where the sun warms my skin and calms my mind. Until I hear my father, I love him but when I see him it's like a slap in the face. I want to scream at him and cry and ask the questions the child in me wants answers to but I can't so I turn and smile. 

“Darling, why are you here? Come, I have people for you to meet!” pulling me by my elbow to follow him to the gaggle of older men who make me feel sick with their stares. I'm used to it, it doesn't take a genius to work out why but god it still makes me feel ill. They start to speak to me asking all the questions that all have the same underlying meaning, which is that i've filled out in all the right places to be stared at like a prized doll in the shop window. Goosebumps begin to form along my arms as I try to control my tongue for my dad and not be snarky.

A warm hand slips around my waist and I jump whipping around to see Simon dead staring at the old men with a look that could kill a man.

“I’m sorry gents but I need to steal Maevis away, and I think your wives are wondering where you are.”

I sink into his touch on my hip, it's warm and soothing. His thumb makes circles, the creeping feeling between my legs starts again and I want to hide my blush but I'm frozen. He begins to pull me with him, staring at them and glancing at my father with what only could suggest annoyance and disappointment in the man. Whisking me away even when we are out their view, his hand still on my hip. His body bends his head to reach mine and moves his mouth to my ear whispering.

“Are you alright, love?” The kindness strikes me, so soothing yet shocking how the gruffness rasp of his voice holds the words and makes me melt.

“I’m fine, thank you Si “ I whisper back, catching his eyes as I turn. We are too close, so close I can see every etch in his skin and those pretty lips that I want to cover my skin with.

“Good. Now good luck,” he begins to smile as he twists my body back and pushes me back into the hoard of people.

Confusion only lasts a second when it clicks, I see about 5 ladies dressed like colourful birds smiling at me and calling me to go chat with me. Oh fuck, this is karma from before. Simon's warmth disappears from behind me and I feel my dark hair fall into my face. Positioning my hand to go tighten my ribbon I find it missing. It’s gone? I spin around checking the floor in despair. Did it fall out? But it's gone and I'm consumed by too much old lady perfume and loud chatter. 

“Maevis ? Gosh dear haven't you changed! Do you remember me dear, I'm your aunt?” one of them speaks holding me, she smells too strongly of perfume i cant breath, pulling me aware from finding the ribbon.

“Ah yes of course, how are you?” I respond too slowly because I  have zero clue who this lady is, i smile and hope it's believable and no one points it out.

The rest stare at me like a group of hawks and I don't know how to hold myself, these strangers who I'm related to and would persecute me if I mess up. 

“I'm fine sweety just at the point in my life where I move and pray I haven't pulled a muscle, it's such a shame we haven't seen you in such a long time, why is that ?” she inquires and the air in my lungs catches because the sentence in my head unravels  the second she ends her sentence.

“Oh um school and work became a priority and it was easier to stay with my mam” every word is a lie but no one is asking for the truth, they want to ask because i disappeared and i don't blame them, my heart hurted every day i couldn't see them but eventually i got used to it and time moves on enough that my brain couldn't remember their faces just the nostalgia.

“Ah such a shame but I understand darling it's okay just know that we’re here if you need us,” squeezing my arm just as much as my heart because I want to swallow up in my sadness, i feel like a traitor when I stand around this warmth. 

Simons pov:

If those fuckers look at her again I’m going to kill them, how could her father not see it? My grip on the ribbon in my hand tightens. No reasons come to my mind of why I took it from her hair other than a way to carry on our little war. 

Shoving it in my pocket panic sets in that my rage will break it also if I stare at it for too long my mind gets clouded by her and tightness in my trousers fills me with guilt. Her dad is quite literally the man I respect the most, he taught me everything I know. At the same time I see her I swear it's like she's the sun. It’s intoxicating to just be near her, the danger signs in my head go berserk like a reminder that I'm a war criminal. I've killed more people than I could count. I've got people killed, good people. I don't deserve that kind of happiness. Not in this lifetime. 

“Private riley!” my head whips around on instinct the station so far below me yet still my reaction is the same as the 17 year old kid who just joined the military. 

“Yes sir.”

“Ah shit its lieutenant now isn't it, come have a beer with me” her father calls me over to come sit with me and hands me a beer. fuck of all people to talk to me right now.

the cold bottle held in my hand feels like a fucking lifeline when he starts talking, blabbing drunkenly about how grateful his kid is back in his life, drilling into me that its his kid, she is nothing to me and gushing over her achievements at 25 fucking hell she is too young for me to want her like this im 37 christ i feel guilty. 

“It's a shame i couldn't see her with all her graduations but ah work came first, that's probably why i would never want her to end up with someone like you simon,” grabbing my shoulder kindly but my heart drops and I can't breathe. The words stick in my head painted in red, reminding me that I would only hurt her.

“Um yeah mate wouldn't want her with a bastard like me” I replied the words taste like bleach on my tongue.

“Exactly you get it kid, the shit we go through god it ruined my first marrage I was never home, not to fucking mention the PTSD from all that shit wouldnt want Maevis to be dragged down by all that shit people like us go through,” he carries on, every word is stabbing me and holds me accountable for even thinking of her as more than my ex captains kid. 

“Yeah definitely, will you excuse me sir? I need to check in on my task force," I mutter as I stand, I need to leave before he says any more shit.

“Yes go on son, thank you for listening”

“Of course sir,”  I mutter, quickly striding away from the conversation to the empty space from people by a pool.

I can breathe now that he isn't here, but the words are still dragging me into some pit. Gripping tightly the glass I drain all the alcohol the burn soothes me for a secon.The reflective lights of the pool let me reminisce about a calmer point in my life. And for a bit my solitude is comforting, I cannot hurt anyone if there is no one to hurt. Until I hear familiar footsteps moving towards me I instantly check, her ribbon is out of view and it's not, shit.

She needs to leave.

Maevis’ pov:

  Whatever my dad told Simon must have been bad from the way he so crutley left. Exiting the ladies I had searched for my ribbon where I was standing earlier, my hair is in my face and it's pissing me off, tickling my skin and making me sneeze when it brushes my nose. Walking directly into a view where I could see my dad and simon talk or more my dad yapping, and Simon gripping his glass. Just from the look he’s giving to my unbeknownst dad I think the glass was going to burst and his jaw locked, his eyes had diminished any light I had seen in them.

Staring at the two of them, I catch a glint of green in Simons front pocket, my fucking ribbon. that little shit. An deniable urge to beat him with my shoe till comes over me. Storming towards them in the most calm way a crazy lady could until my arm is caught by someone, urging me to come meet family members agin for the 50th fucking time. The old lady said how great it is that I’m finally around everyone, again. I look over my shoulder to check his glaring daggers, only to see Simon walking away from my father who is plastered in his chair.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Simon Riley give it back,:” rushing towards him, after searching the grounds to find him tucked away by an empty pool, standing alone just staring with an empty glare at nothing.

“I'm not in the mood.” he responds curtly, it's so cold, there is nothing in his voice not even wit. and all the warmth he has begun to make me feel starts to ebb away. What did my father say to him?

“Si? Are you being grumpy because of the little pranks today? “ laughing awkwardly because the coldness of him is making me panic. Did I go too far? my heart is my throat, the idea he may be so angry he won't speak to me again makes me panic and I don't know why but i step closer. His blonde hair in the sun glows saintly halo, I wish it didn't distract me.

“Why are you here? I don't even know you. We are strangers, you and I. Go talk with your family before you get seen with me,” again with the coldness that holds in my heart.

“Si….?” I question, confusion floods me. I step forward. 

“Stop. You don’t know me and I don't want to know you. You’re- you’re like some lost puppy leave me the fuck alone,” and like that those words are a spark to my anger and all the sadness and confusion is wrapped around my annoyance.

“You can say that shit but hand over my ribbon. I want it back,” my hands reach out. I step closer again, close enough I can smell his cologne and the hint of whiskey.

His hand quickly wraps around my wrist and twists me so I'm on the edge of the pool and away from his pocket. I’m too close to the edge, but the thumping in my ear as my blood rushes to my ears is because he is so close. 

“No,” he stares at me, he's so cold my heart feels like it has frostbite.

I see his eyes quickly dart to my lips, as I breathe in shallowly from my mouth. His eyes darken, it’s like I can read his mind but can he read mine. Images of me naked and him on top of me flash through my mind. Without thinking I go to kiss him I see his face turn into panic as I use all my weight to twist us back around. I try to shove him in. I’ll make him see what happens when he fucks with my feelings and steal my accessory to a kickass outfit fuck no you dont. only as his body moves to the water his hand is still on my wrist and forces me to topple into the water after him.

My head is spinning too much from the alcohol given to me all day to process the change from land to water. stress sets into my muscles and i try to swim up. 

A strong grip of rough hands does the job for me, pulling me through the water forcing my head up to the surface, gasping. I turn to Simon, his grip still on me.

“What the fuck Maevis.”

Turning to him I swim closer, my arm reaches for his shoulder to use, or so he thinks my mind reels still pissed at his change in mood and refusal to give me my stuff back. Trailing my arm down his torso now on show from the water making it see through, his abdomen twitches from the sudden touch. My eyes remain on his lips and watch as his chest rises and falls rapidly as my hand trails closer to his crotch. Leaning into his ear I hear his breathing stop completely as my hand lightly grazes his cock already growing hard. Turning so my lips are close to his ear I wait a second, my hand cupping him gently.

“Strangers huh Si?” I whisper, quickly moving my hand from him into the pocket where my ribbon is and grabbing it. Turning away, I swim to the exit. Leaving him barely breathing and dead staring at my back as I leave the pool and walk towards our room. 

Soaking wet I move through the villa to our room leaving a trail of water that I'm praying no old family member slips and cracks a hip on. 

I head straight for the shower, absence of Simon and the breeze causes me to shiver. All the fury is melting into something that warms my stomach and stirs something inside me. I need it out of my system, then I can go back to hating him.

Maevis’ pov:

I don’t wait to enter my part of the room to strip down. I’m unbearably cold and my nipples hurt from the friction of the wet dress. I hurry to the shower letting the water run till it’s scolding hot, hopefully hot enough to flush my feelings and thoughts. I scrub and scrub trying my hardest to forget him, forget how he grew harder as I straddled his hips. It felt amazing to feel his arms securely around me, that and the look on his face as he saw the opaque dress.

“Fucker.” I detest how much I need this relife. I lean my head back, closing my eyes as I imagine him kissing me, from my mouth to my tits. I slowly creep my hand down between my legs sighing in relief. I imagine him clearly on his knees slowly parting my legs and looking up at me through his eyelashes. Feeling his hands grip and travel up my thighs, and as he reaches my cunt he slowly circles my clit, teasingly. I begin to breathe heavier, the water blocking my nose causes me to open my mouth slightly and a moan escapes me. Dear god, I hope he isn’t back. I can feel my orgasm build up ever so slowly. I picture him, slipping his fingers between my pussy whispering, “keep your legs open for me princess. Like the good girl you are.” I push in my fingers, quickening the pace, the friction killing me. 

Simon’s pov:

In the bathroom I hear the shower running. That brat took her ribbon from me and thinks she can hide from me in the bathroom, pretending to shower? Right, not going to fool me. I storm over to the bathroom door cracking the door ajar pausing when I hear her moan. I shouldn’t. I really fucking shouldn’t, any gentleman wouldn’t peak but I’m anything but. I look in curiously and the sight before nearly makes me groan in desperation. There she is water running over her beautiful body, plastering her long hair to body. I follow the stream of water running from her head, down to her perfect tits, all the way to- 

Fuck me.

I feel the blood rush straight to my cock. Hardening instantly, at her fucking herself, moaning. her breathy gasps say something. “Simon.” Holy shit. I can’t think straight. I'm focused solely on how her hands work her to an orgasim. I envisage how magnificent she’d look as I look up at making her come with my mouth. 

“Yes, god fu-” she hitches shuddering under the steaming water. She pumps in and out a few more times and slumps down. 

It takes all the will power in me and years of training not to go in there and make her scream my name, not just say it. To not pick her up and rail her over the bathroom counter, gripping her hair so that she can see me pounding into her and see how her eyes tear in painful pleasure. 

I’m not helping my situation, I shake my head rubbing my eyes snapping me back. I head straight back out onto the balcony, I need a cig or twenty.

I knew she was going to be trouble.