#“you make sure they get home safe. or else”

[munsonify]

drunk call

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary. when you’re in need of a safe way home from the bar, the first person you think of in your drunken haze is bucky, who comes to get you in an instant

content warnings. sm fluff, unestablished relationships, pining, idiots in love, alcohol consumption, r being super drunk lol, thunderbolts era bucky, softie!bucky (my beloved), slightly affectionate&touchy reader (sfw), pet names (sweetheart), r being called pretty, not proofread

word count. 1905

a/n. thunderbolts era bucky and tfatws bucky are rotting my brain away i love him your honor. not proofread

———

admittedly, you’d maybe had one too many drinks tonight.

when you received a text from an old friend of yours saying she was in the city, claiming she had the night free, of course you were going to make some time to see her. it was a night well spent at the bar, too. the drinks were good, you’d caught up on a lot of life with her, jokes were thrown around that had you both doubled over in laughter in the small booth you were cozied up in. the odd glances thrown your way at your giggles only made things worse for the two of you.

your friend called it a night around 11. the only reason she was in the area was for work, and with her luck, they’d scheduled her with a meeting very early the next day. it was time for her to head out, especially now that her boyfriend had arrived, ready to carefully help her to their hotel.

“do you want me to stay?” your friend slurred, grabbing ahold of her boyfriends arm as he guided her up to her feet. “we can stay. wanna make sure you get home safe.”

“i’m okay,” you told her, a genuine, reassuring smile on your face as your words slurred just as bad as yours. “promise i’ll get home safe, i’ll text you when i do.”

the way you rose to your feet wasn’t the most elegant, though you fit right in with the atmosphere. you wrapped each other up in a large hug, bidding each other a giggly goodbye, promising to keep in touch. her boyfriend gave you a small wave before he helped her out of the bar and away from your sight. that’s when you let yourself slide back into the booth, fumbling with your purse in search of your phone. your promise was true to her, you were going to get home safe. while you only stayed a few blocks away from the bar, you weren’t quite comfortable walking home in the state you were in, not like you’d walked there three hours ago.

your mind slipped straight to the thought of bucky as you pulled up your contacts, searching for his name and number. your thoughts often slipped to the man, it was hard for them not to. in the few months you’d known the man, living in the rebuilt avengers tower, you grew quite fond of him. it was a little unexpected.

you weren’t searching for anything romantic when you’d somehow stumbled upon the new team. you were focused on a list of other things - your mental health, your career (though being a now nearly full-time superhero wasn’t exactly what you’d envisioned), your hobbies -, so it caught you off guard when you noticed your growing feelings towards bucky. you began to seek him out in a way you hadn’t with anyone else. despite being a little tough and uptight at times, not really the most talkative person ever, he was kind. he had a nice sense of humor, too. dry, sarcastic, a little playful. at times, you were convinced that playfulness with you bordered flirtation.

that’s why you had found your way to bucky again in your drunken mind. you always felt oddly safe with him, anyways. it was comforting how protective he could be, a subtle sort of thing that you admired about him. you pressed your phone against your ear rather harshly as you listened to your phone ring a handful of times. the noise had you zoned in to the point you barely noticed he’d picked up, a curious ‘hello’ ringing into your ears. your body straightened up at the sound of his voice, a dopey smile finding your lips.

“hey!” you said cheerfully, hand gripping your phone tight as you began rambling to him in an obvious slur. “i’m so sorry if you were asleep or if you’re busy, but i’m kinda really drunk right now, i’m a few blocks away at a bar. is there any chance you’d, i dunno, come get me and walk me home? so i’m not alone? it’s totally okay if not!”

you realized how desperate you must sound calling him like this. you weren’t sure if he’d caught on to your slightly obvious feelings for him yet, but if he had even an idea that you might like him, this call was incriminating. you were calling him of all people, rather than simply calling a cab or an uber, or even just sticking it out and walking anyways.

“of course,” bucky told you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. his response was immediate, without a second thought. those two words alone made your heart flutter inside of your chest. you passed along the name of the bar, one he’d remembered from passing so many times. he knew his way around the city well, and promised to be there in 10.

the moment you’d hung up the phone, soft giggles slipped from your mouth, the same wide smile on your face still present. you ordered yourself one last drink while you waited, closing your tab while you were up before you left and forgot. you sat in your booth in silence as you waited, gaze settling on to the drink that you sipped on. your body was beginning to feel a little heavy, the alcohol and your sleepiness starting to settle in now that you weren’t so focused on an ongoing conversation.

you were so zoned in, in fact, that you didn’t realize bucky had finally found his way to the bar, beelining to you in a slow, steady strut. his head tilted to the side when he stopped at your table, biting back a smile. you still hadn’t noticed him yet.

“hey there sweetheart,” bucky spoke smoothly, sliding on the opposite side of the booth. he noticed you still had a drink and decided to give you time to finish. your head shot up to look at him, eyes wide and gleaming the moment you recognized his voice. you gave him the same dopey smile you had when you’d called him. “mind if i take you home?”

you giggled at his words, biting your lower lip as you began to put on a show, thinking a little for a response you already had. you gave him a hum, words slurring still as you respond. “well i suppose so.”

you sipped the rest of you drink away after you spoke, quickly wiping away the drop that slipped from your lips clumsily. whether that clumsiness was because you were drunk or because bucky made you nervous, you weren’t quite sure. regardless, your nose scrunched up a little in embarrassment, trying your best to shake it off. he didn’t seem to mind or even notice. bucky had a small, content smile on his face, his blue eyes shining gently as he gazed at you.

the moment you set the glass down, his fingers found their way to it, taking it into his hand. he pushed himself back up from the worn booth, watching as you fumble to grab your purse and phone. the hand bucky offered up was his left. the metal felt nice against your buzzing warm, buzzing skin as you accepted it, letting him assist you to your feet. despite how hard the metal was, he was gentle with the way he held your hand, guiding you towards the bar again to give the bartender your empty glass.

bucky’s hand left yours, only to grasp ahold of your purse and your phone to carry it for you. he helped you towards his right side, wrapping that arm comfortably around you, hand bracing your waist as respectfully as he could. he began walking the two of you out the bar and onto the streets in a comfortable silence neither of you broke. you began leaning into him, still a little unsteady on your feet as you stumble slightly down the street.

your head eventually found comfort in bucky’s shoulder, the weight becoming nearly too much for you to bear on your own. you missed the way he smiled, small and proud as he continues to guide you through the city. that’s when he started to speak in a low mumble, voice deep, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

“you look pretty tonight,” bucky complimented, his head turning to look down at you fondly. it wasn’t often he got to see you like this, a little skirt he’d helped you pull back down into place just a minute or two previously. the shirt you wore was a little low cut, too, just enough to show some cleavage. that’s not why he gave you the sentiment. he rarely got to see you put together. it was usually sweaty work out clothes or bloodied uniforms he saw you in. this was a nice change.

bucky watched the way you smile wide, nose scrunching up again at his words. you tilted your head up to see him, sincerity laced in every inch of his face. while collecting your thoughts, you pressed your cheek into his arm as you stare up into his eyes, clinging to his body for dear life as you try not to fall. his strong arm kept you upright, though, careful not to let you drop to the ground.

“thank you,” was all you could manage out in a small voice, a hand of yours gently grasping at the sleeve of his leather jacket. it was then that you’d finally made it to the rebuilt tower, bucky swiping the both of you in, before holding the door wide open for you. he watched the way you stumbled into the building with an appreciative smile, before looking back at him expectedly. you had your hand extended outwards for him, searching for his touch

bucky took your hand without a second thought, letting his fingers intertwine with yours, before you guys made your long way towards the living quarters. even when you’d entered the elevator, three empty walls and a long railing for you to grasp ahold of to find your footing, you still held onto him. he was already helping you, anyways, so why would you let go now?

he continued to walk you out of the elevator when it’d reached high inside of the tower, helping you all the way to your bedroom door. bucky positioned you in front of him, letting go of your hand only to reach to your hair, tucking pieces behind your ear and out of your face.

“think you can find the rest of your way?” he asked, his hands smoothing down your hair once, before dropping it to his side. you gave him a lazy nod, eyes beginning to droop with exhaustion.

“yeah, i think should be fine,” you answered, offering a small smile. before you could overthink, you took two steps forward, arms reaching up to wrap around bucky’s shoulders. he blinked a few slow times, arms finding their way around your torso carefully as he embraces you. he tugged you a little closer to him, letting his chin rest gently on top of your shoulder. the hand that wasn’t holding your belongings smoothed up your back, a weak attempt to soothe you.

“thanks for walking me home, buck,” you whispered. “it means a lot. you’re a great guy.”

“anytime, sweetheart. just give me a call and i’ll be there.”

[slutzforbueckers]

SHES SAFE WITH ME—CHAPTER 2

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: smut

♡— synopsis: you accidentally walked in on paige in the bathroom and as the day went on things just got more awkward until they couldn’t.

♡— word count: 7.6k

♡— a/n: the longgggggg awaited chapter two. you already know it’s not proofread at all but anyway enjoy!!!!!

the sun was blaring in your face when you woke up. you groaned as you attempted to slowly blink open your eyes, the sun’s bright light making you close them immediately and turn over. the house was still quiet so you knew it had to still be early, or maybe you’d just slept late and everyone else had left—you weren’t sure. you let out a small groan and blindly felt around for your phone, you pulled it from under your pillow and cracked your eyes open to check the time. 7:57. not bad, you thought.

the birds were chirping extra loud this morning and the roosters sounded like they were right outside your window. you definitely didn’t miss that part about being home again. you figured since it was still pretty early you’d try to get another hour of sleep so you pulled the blankets back up and closed your eyes again.

everything was going great—your body had relaxed again, your mind was already creating some wild dream you’d forget the second you opened your eyes again—but then you felt that pressure in your bladder. you had to pee…really, really bad. you rolled your eyes at the bad timing and rolled over again, sitting up this time.

as you sat on the side of the bed you debated on whether you should really get up or lay back down, but then you remembered some tiktok you saw the other day about the effects of holding your pee and decided to get up. you slid your feet into your pink bunny slippers—the ones you’d had since you were a sophomore in high school—and made your way out of your room.

you walked down the hallway still rubbing your eyes and yawning. the hallway was dim and quiet, you could hear the hum of the a/c unit running but that was all. there was no evidence that anyone else was awake yet so you didn’t bother knocking on the bathroom door before entering. when the door swung open you froze—you were met with the sight of paige standing in the middle of the bathroom, towel wrapped only around her waist, her tits on full display.

steam was still swirling around in the air, the mirror was fogged up, and there were still droplets clinging to her skin—running down her collarbone and into the valley of her breast. her hair was pulled back into a messy bun with a few wet strands falling out.

“oh my god!” you choked out, snapping back into reality from whatever raunchy fantasy your brain had came up with. paige looked up and even though she didn’t say anything her skin flushed a shade of red. she wasn't really embarrassed, how could she be when there was a pretty girl staring at her body like it was the first one she’d ever seen—she was amused. your lips were parted and your eyes were wide but it was like your brain short circuited and didn’t send the signal to your body for you to close the door or even look away.

you knew you probably should’ve looked away but you literally couldn’t. what made it worse was that you weren’t even looking at her face—no, you’re eyes were trained on her abs and chest. paige clearly didn’t mind the gawking—she was quite enjoying it actually. the way your eyes couldn’t focus on one thing, how your eyes were filled with embarrassment and curiosity, and most of all how you hadn’t thought to close the door since you opened it.

“you gonna keeping standing there or…” paige smirked as she trailed off, making no effort to cover herself up or anything. she couldn’t lie and say that the way you were looking at her—like you almost wanted to jump her bones right then and there—wasn’t turning her on. she probably would’ve invited you in if she didn’t have to worry about krystal looking for her, or even just krystal at all.

“right—i’m so sorry—“ you rushed out as you quickly closed the door and you could hear her start to laugh on the other side. you closed your eyes for a second but when you saw the image of paige standing there half naked you opened them again immediately.

“i’m never getting over this.” you mumbled to yourself as you shook your head and made your way back to your room, you didn’t even have to pee anymore. as soon as your bedroom door closed you fell back against it, your head tipping back against it with soft huff. things would be awkward between you now, you knew that for sure, so now all you had to do was come up with a plan.

you could stay in your room all day, locked away with no chance of seeing her, or you could jump out the window and hope you die—either one worked for you. the image would never leave your mind now, every time you looked at her you would see her standing in the bathroom with nothing but a towel.

it would haunt you—become something you saw in your dreams every time you went to sleep. it would follow you all the way back to college. maybe that was being dramatic but you didn’t care.

you walked to the end of your bed and sank down, laying on your back and spreading your arms out above you. you stared at the ceiling for a while, contemplating if you wanted to crawl back into bed or continue on with the day. finally, you decided you’d call your childhood friend and make plans that’ll keep you out of the house all day.

paige on the other hand—she was just as flustered as you, she just didn’t show it. she also knew things would be awkward between you now but she would try her best to act normal and not like she wished she would’ve pulled you into the bathroom and had her way with you.

it’s crossed her mind more than she’d admit—fucking you untill you couldn’t remember your own name—but she had to be normal about it. she couldn’t be obvious about the fact she wanted to fuck her girlfriends daughter.

that would just be…wrong.

there were three loud knocks at your door before it swung open. you turned around and faced her, dropping your makeup brush onto the vanity. krystal waltzed in with a big smile on her face and stood behind you. ��great, you’re already up. paige and i want brunch so we’re going down to that little cafe right down the street. care to join?”

the mention of paige made your skin crawl. you turned back towards the mirror and picked up your lip liner, trying to focus on something other than the memory of seeing her naked. you shrugged your shoulders and glanced at krystal through the mirror.

“oh, i already have plans.” you said as you brought the liner up to your lips. krystal sucked her teeth and placed her hand on her hip—giving you that look she always did when your answer wasn't the one she wanted to hear. you rolled your eyes because you should’ve known you weren’t being given a choice in the first place. “right…i’ll be ready in 15.”

“good answer, bug.” she patted your shoulders and gave you a quick kiss on the top of your head before walking out. as soon as the door closed you let out a soft huff because now not only did you have to cancel your plans, you had to face paige for nearly an hour.

you stared blankly into the mirror for a minute—trying to figure out why you came home in the first place—before picking up your phone and calling your friend, tay, on facetime. the phone rang for a minute before it beeped, you scrunched up your face and called again. this time it only rang a couple of seconds and she picked up—you rolled your eyes because, of course, her phone was on dnd so that’s why she didn’t answer the first time.

“i’m on my way! i promise—I just had to get in one more game.” tay rushed out, her locs falling in her face when she bent down to grab her other shoe. you propped your phone up on your vanity and leaned back in your seat with a small huff.

“i can’t go. it’ll have to be some later time.” you frowned. tay’s head snapped up, she looked at you confused and gave you that ‘what gives’ look. you straightened back up and grabbed your eyebrow brush. “mom is making me go to brunch with her and paige. i told her i already had plans but she gave me that look.”

“why’d you say “paige” like that? didn’t you have the hots for her like—12 hours ago.” tay questioned as she walked back to her couch to start up another game of call of duty. you forgot you hadn’t told her about the whole bathroom incident this morning—you were too shocked to tell her.

“oh, right—so, i walked in on paige in the bathroom this morning.” you said, trying to make your voice sound nonchalant even though your heart started racing just thinking about it. tay paused—you heard the soft clicks of her fingers moving on her controller stop—but you didn’t looked at her, you kept your focus to fixing up your eyebrows.

“you did what?!” she exclaimed, picking her phone so quick you might’ve gotten whiplash if you would've felt it.

you shrugged your shoulders—you were trying to not make it sound like such a big deal but in all honesty, now that you had the chance to talk about it you thought you might combust if you didn’t ever last detail out.

“okay, i didn’t mean to do it at all. so i woke up this morning and i had to pee and like it was still pretty early—i figured everyone was still asleep and i didn’t even hear anything while i was walking to the bathroom. anyways, i didn’t knock on the door—because i didn’t think anyone was up—and then when i opened it there she was. standing there with nothing but a towel wrapped around her waist.”

“wait a minute—you saw her naked?” tay asked, her jaw dropping because even though she is pretty dramatic this situation definitely deserves some jaw dropping. you nodded your head with a tight lipped smile. “wowzers. you saw the paige bueckers naked—your stepmom paige bueckers.”

“well, i didn’t see everything. just her tits, but still—how am i supposed to sit through brunch without it being awkward?” you groaned as you shoved all your makeup back into your drawer, you never did care about it being a mess. tay whistled and shook her head, letting her phone drop back onto her lap as she started back playing her game.

“there’s no avoiding that, ma.” she laughed loudly. you rolled your eyes because you knew it was true, things would be awkward between you and paige until you went back to school. there really wasn’t any avoiding it.

“yeah, you’re right.” she sighed. tay hummed and mumbled something about always being right, you rolled your eyes again. “i gotta go, their waiting for me.”

“alright, tell me how it goes. love you!” she picked up the phone and started blowing air kisses to the phone. you pretended to catch them and place them in your heart with a smile before saying a quick ‘love you too’ and hanging up. you set your phone down on the dresser and stood up, checking your outfit in the mirror to determine if it was brunch worthy.

you were wearing a plain black tube top and a pair of denim jorts. you ran your hands down your sides and turned just enough to see check out your ass—yeah, this is perfect. you thought. now all you had to figure out was what shoes you wanted to wear, you walked to your closet and stood in front of your shoe racks. you had so many shoes you didn’t know which one to pick. you weren’t sure if you were feeling sneakers or sandals.

you stepped towards the rack and bent down as if getting closer would help you decide faster—it didn’t. you stood there for a good five minutes just staring at all the options you had. picking an outfit had never been your strong suit and whenever you did know what clothes you wanted to wear you didn’t know what shoes to wear—it was never just a simple task. after a quick game of pick a rabbit you decided to go with your black jordans.

“y/n! good lord girl, you take forever.” krystal groaned as she burst into your room. you were already tying your laces when she came in, you rolled your eyes and stood up from your bed.

“i’m ready, jeez.” you muttered as you grabbed your phone and jacket. krystal shook her head as you walked past her, muttering something under her breath before closing your door behind her.

when you walked down the stairs you spotted paige standing against the wall, one arm folded over her chest and the other holding her phone in front of her. you noticed that she was jorts too and a red crop top—god, she looks good. you thought. she looked up at the sound of footsteps and you looked away immediately, not wanting to make any unnecessary, awkward eye contact. you quickly made your way to the door and grabbed your keys from the key hook.

“and what are you doing, bug?” krystal stopped you just as you wrapped your hand around the doorknob. you stopped in your tracks and slowly turned around. paige was looking at you now—you saw her from the corner of your eye—but you refused to look at her.

“taking my car? we’re all going to the same place.”

“exactly, we’re all going to the same place. no point in taking separate cars.” paige piped in, you dared to look at her and regretted it immediately. she was still standing close to the wall, a little behind krystal, but her hands were shoved in her pockets now and she wore a small smirk that affected you more than it should’ve.

you cleared your throat and nodded, you were much more willing to do what she said when she sounded like that—voice low, like she was chill about the whole thing that happened earlier. you placed your keys back on the hook and waited for them to lead the way.

oh this is going to be a long ride. you thought.

when you arrived at the café, paige held the door for both you and krystal—-paige also took that opportunity to steal a few glances at your ass. she needed to commit the sight to memory for… future references. it could seriously be useful one day—definitely.

everything was going fine—okay, not really. after paige paid and you found a table, somewhere close to the windows so you could have something to distract yourself with, she decided to sit next to you instead of krystal. she used some lame excuse about how she wanted to be able to see everything around her, sitting next to krystal wouldn’t have allowed that.

you saw right through it because as soon as she sat down next to you, she bumped her knee into yours. you held your breath and quietly moved your leg. you tried not to think much of it as you flipped open the menu, but then she did it again and you knew it was definitely not an accident.

“wow, this looks good. what should i get?” krystal muttered—mostly to herself—as she looked through all the options. she was none the wiser to the game paige was playing under the table—was it a game or were you making something out of nothing? who knows. you bit down on your lip as you tried to hurry up and pick something to eat so everything would move along a bit faster.

paige caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, she glanced over at you and shook her head slightly. the only thought that ran through her head was how much she wished she could just reach over and run her thumb across it. she wanted to know if they were as soft as she’d been imagining, they sure looked it. she pulled her eyes away before it got too obvious that she was staring.

“i think i’ll just have the fruit salad.” you said, to no one in particular, and closed the menu. krystal hummed something about how it sounded good before announcing what she was going to have. paige was still flipping through the book, her eyes narrowed and her brows scrunched. you took the chance to look at her, mentally cursing at how good her side profile was.

a few minutes later the waiter appeared with a notepad and pencil in hand, a warm and welcoming smile on his face. he asked if you all were ready to order and you and krystal nodded and gave him your order’s. paige was still deciding, she couldn’t settle on any of the options and having everyone waiting on her almost made her break a sweat.

“i’ll just have what she’s having.” she looked at you to make it clear who she was talking about and that glint in her eye came back—that same one from the bathroom earlier. “sounds like it’ll taste good.”

as soon as those words left her mouth you felt your face get hot and a million thoughts raced through your head all at once: that can’t be real. am i just a hornball or did that have a double meaning? i’m definitely not making it through this brunch.

“alright, i’ll have that out as soon as possible.” the waiter smiled and turned on his heels.

krystal snickered from across the table and you and paige both looked at her. you were confused about what had happened that warranted a laugh. “matching outfits and meals. how cute.”

“right…i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” you pulled your lips into a tight line and excused yourself from the table. did you think her comment was unnecessary? yes. did it make you a little uncomfortable? yes. did it make you think about how good you and paige could be together? also yes.

you tried to walk normally as you went to the bathroom but you could feel eyes on your back and it almost made you skip a step and trip—that would’ve been embarrassing to say the least. the neon bathroom sign came into view and you let out a breath of relief because to you that walk felt like it was 5 miles long with everyone laughing because they somehow knew what was going through your mind.

the wooden door was heavy as you pushed it open but it closed behind you slowly. you walked through and checked every stall to see if anyone was in them and to your surprise it was completely empty—and clean. another good thing you noticed was that they all were fully closed in, no gaps on any of them.

“definitely designed by a women.” you mumbled to yourself as you stepped inside the last stall, closing and locking it behind you. you made sure to clean the toilet seat before you sat down—don’t want to catch any diseases or something.

after you were done you went to the sink and started to wash your hands, checking yourself out in the mirror the entire time. you started to hum some song you’d heard on tiktok earlier and just as you got into it the door swung open. instinctively, you looked up but you were not expecting to see paige walk in. your throat went dry and you looked away immediately

she didn’t say anything—not yet anyways—and neither did you. you finished washing your hands and grabbed a few paper towels, silently praying she’d just go away. as you expected: she didn’t go away. no, she stood right there until you turned around and only then did she start walking towards you. you looked down at your feet and your brain told you to do the only thing it knew to do: talk. a lot.

“paige—this morning i—i didn’t mean to walk in. i was just tired and i didn’t think anyone was awake yet. i should’ve knocked—i’m so sorry—”

“i didn’t mind. you looked cute all…flustered.” she said, cutting you off. your brain short circuited, your lips parting because she definitely did not just say that. she was standing close now—like almost toe to toe close—and that didn’t really help you calm down any more.

you needed to get away like, right now before you started saying things that’ll definitely make thing more awkward, but she smelt so good and you could almost feel her body heat if you’d just leaned in a little bit. your eyes were looking everywhere but her face, like her shoes, jacket, her abs, her arms—god, her arms looked heavenly. so perfect and strong and—put me in a chokehold, oh my lord.

you shook your head as your mind started feeling up with not so innocent thoughts and images, and you really needed to get away from her. “i—i need to—”

“is that why you’re being awkward? you saw my tits, no big deal.” paige shrugged like it really was no big deal—like you seeing her half naked was just another sunny saturday. you finally looked her in the eyes and your lips parted in disbelief.

“no big deal—” you cut yourself off with a dry chuckle and you shook your head before whisper-yelling, “that most definitely is a big deal. you’re dating my mom, remember? i shouldn’t be picturing you��” you paused and your eyes got wide because you essentially just admitted you’d been picturing her naked, “i mean, seeing you naked. half naked, full naked. whatever.”

you ended your rant with a frustrated huff, you’d basically just ruined any chance of peace you had left. there was no way you wouldn’t think of this very day 50 years from now when you’re old and wrinkly and still single. the worst part about it was that paige was just standing there smiling and somehow during your rant you’d moved closer to her.

“you picture me naked?”

“no, i don’t picture you naked.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking towards the stalls. paige hummed and slowly nodded her head, her hand hesitantly reaching out to ghost over your waist. your breath caught in your throat slightly and you finally looked back at her.

“did this start before or after this morning?” she teased, her grin getting slightly wider. you were getting hot again—like burning from the inside out. you felt that flutter in your stomach and you shifted on your heels to distract yourself from the fact that you were five seconds from kissing her if you didn’t leave soon.

paige tilted her head slightly and you scoffed again before bringing your hand to her chest and patting a couple of times. you had no idea where the confidence came from but you weren’t complaining, you leaned into her until your lips brushed the shell of her ear, “in your dreams, paige.”

and with that you brushed passed her and left the bathroom, leaving her standing there with a stupid grin on her face. paige let out a breathy laugh and turned to face the door, she stared at it for a few seconds before shaking her head and muttering to herself: “most definitely.”

when you got back to your table the food was already there and krystal was scrolling on her phone, probably on facebook, but she looked up when you sat down.

“what took so long? where’s paige?” she threw her left hand up in the air dramatically, her eyes narrowing as she questioned you. you shrugged and picked around the fruit salad to see what all was in it.

“some of the stalls were full and the others were down.” you lied and took a glance at her, not long enough for her to see you were lying though. she didn’t say anything but she squinted her eyes slightly before humming and settling back into her seat.

after dinner all you wanted was so shower and get in bed but krystal had other plans, she dragged you and paige into the living room with the game of twister in her hands. you groaned and plopped down on the couch next to paige, making sure to keep enough distance between you.

“mom, you don't even like playing twister. you always say “i’m getting too old for all this twisting and turning shit” like every time we play.” you twisted your face up as you badly imitated her voice. paige watched your face the entire time and threw her head back with a loud laugh, you reached over and playfully shoved her arm. “i’m serious, she doesn’t like twister.”

krystal rolled her eyes as she moved the coffee table to the corner of the room so that there was enough room for the mat to go down. “yeah, yeah. paige’s never played before and now that you’re here you can show her how it goes.”

“right, i definitely volunteer.” you said sarcastically as you pulled your legs onto the couch. paige looked at you and mouthed “ouch” as she placed her hand over her heart, pretending your words hurt her. you rolled your eyes at her and bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back the smile threatening to show. you saw her gaze flicker down to your lips and for the first time, you shamelessly did the same.

“bug, come help me smooth this out.” krystal said as she dropped to her knees and started to straighten out the crinkles in the mat. you let out a soft huff but still got up to help.

it only took five minutes, ten smart comments, and 7 thumps on the forehead to get the game completely set up. of course, paige watched and laughed the entire time. she didn’t bother to make any comments, not even when you looked at her for help against your mom’s antics—she just smirked and shrugged her shoulders.

after it was set up you and paige moved to stand on opposite sides on the mat, both of you staring at krystal for the next directions. she was sitting on the couch now, legs crossed under her and the spinner sitting in her lap. she picked it up and held it out in front of her before something was missing. “wait! i need a glass of wine before we start.”

she jumped up and ran to the kitchen to fix herself a glass, her padded feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. she looked through her wine rack to decide which one she wanted tonight, her hand on her hips, foot lightly tapping the ground. after a minute she decided on a bottle of rose. the original plan was to just get one glass but the longer she held it in her hand the more inclined she was to just take the whole bottle back to the living. which, she did.

“alright, where were we?” she hummed as she sat back down and picked up the spinner. you crossed your arms over your chest and shifted on your heel, starting to get a little impatient. krystal flicked the spinner and stared intently as it spun and then slowly started to settle on a spot. “okay! bug, left foot, blue.”

since you were already on a blue spot you just moved your foot over a few spots and placed it on the fourth spot. your hands flew out to your sides when your foot slipped on the slippery mat and you let out a nervous laugh, hoping it wasn’t too obvious you almost busted your ass. paige stood in front of you, still in the starting position watching your every move.

“p, right foot, blue.” krystal called out as she opened her bottle of wine, the cork flew out with a soft pop. paige moved her foot to the blue spot right in front of yours and she made it look so easy. even though she had socks on just like you she didn’t slip not once. her legs were already much longer than yours and she stretched all the time for basketball. you looked down and let your eyes rake over her legs because god—they’re literally just perfect.

you looked towards krystal and watched as she took a long sip of wine before spinning the spinner again, “right foot, red. that’s for you, bug.”

you stretched your right leg and planted your foot on a red spot, leaning forward slightly to keep your balance when your socks caused your foot to slide a little. “i should’ve took my socks off.” you whined.

paige snickered as she watched you regain your balance. you looked up at her and gave her your best glare, to which she laughed again. krystal called out another call for paige and she stretched her left leg to plant her foot on the third green spot. you were closer now, only a few inches away from each other—if that.

your hips were slightly rotated inward and paige’s were rotated towards you as she stretched across the mat—one wrong move and you would’ve ended up in an incriminating position that definitely would never leave your mind. hell, the whole conversation you had in the bathroom earlier was still replaying in your head over and over.

krystal called out another call that had you bending down and placing your left hand on yellow, your hair fell in your face and you mentally cursed at yourself for forgetting to pull it up before the game started. you weren’t facing paige anymore—no, you were turned around with your ass pointed directly into her face as you placed your hand down on a yellow spot. paige sucked in a deep breath as she tried to keep her eyes looking anywhere but your ass. that proved to be a difficult task when it was just right there in her face, but she knew krystal would be watching and she couldn’t be getting caught up.

“alright, lets see.” krystal said out loud before clearing her throat and imitating a news reporter or something. “paige, right hand, yellow.”

paige looked down at the options she had and she cursed under her breath when she realized there was no way she could put her hand on yellow without putting you two in another awkward position. she stood there for a moment, hands on her hips, thinking about what spot she wanted to choose. you lifted your head to see what was taking so long.

“paige, i’ll kick you if you don’t pick a spot.” you huffed, limbs already starting to burn from being in the awkward position. paige laughed at your sassiness and finally bent over and placed her hand on the yellow spot right above yours. she was leaning over you now and if you lifted your hips any higher you’d be pushing your ass right against her—wouldn’t be a bad “accident”, you thought. you ducked your head low as you heard the sound of your mom drinking from her bottle, you rolled your eyes because this game was already taking too long.

“i don’t stretch enough for this.” you muttered, low enough that krystal didn’t hear but loud enough that paige did. paige let out a quiet chuckle and you turned your head to look at her, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“maybe…we should fix that.” she said back. there it was again—those double meanings that would have your head spinning later trying to figure out which way she meant that. you let out a shaky breath and lowered your head again, hiding your face from her so she couldn’t see the affect her words had on you.

this seemed to be the theme of the day—double meanings, flirty comments, and awkward positions—and the worst part was that you weren’t entirely complaining about it. you might’ve actually enjoyed it, key word being might’ve—you’d have to have a discussion with tay later to fully decide.

she had to know what she was doing to you—what her words were doing—and something in you told you that she was actually enjoying seeing you get flustered and nervous. how can i flip this around? how can i make her nervous? you thought. you figured you could act innocent or flirt back—decisions, decisions—or you could mix the two and make it even worse. you decided you’d make it worse.

you turned your head back towards her and let your gaze fall onto her lips for a second before looking her in the eyes again. paige couldn’t help but look at your lips when you smiled sweetly—a little too sweetly. “i’d love to stretch with you, i’m sure you’re really good at it.”

paige smirked because she could see right through the doe-eyed look you were giving her. she parted her lips to say something but the sound of krystal’s voice broke the two of you out of whatever bubble you’d created around you.

“right hand, red!” krystal said, her words coming out a bit louder than intended. you and paige both looked at her to see who she was talking to and that’s when you noticed half the bottle was already gone, she was definitely going to fall asleep soon. she pulled the spinner away from her face and narrowed her eyes at you and paige, “why aren’t y'all moving?”

“you didn’t tell us who.” paige reminded her gently. krystal’s lips formed a small ‘o’.

“right, that was for you bug.”

in order for you to successfully place your right hand on red you had to change positions so that you didn’t slip, you lifted your hips a little higher and moved your hand over. paige pulled her bottom lip between her teeth because she could almost feel your body pressing against hers. she just needed to tilt her hips even an inch forward and she would’ve been pressed right against your ass—such a tempting thought.

“hmm,” krystal hummed as she flicked the spinner again and watched as it slowed down onto the color blue. “okay, paige. left hand, blue.”

“how am i supposed to—” paige scrunched her face in confusion because you were covering the only blue spots that were close enough for her to reach. you noticed that and—without thinking—you lifted yourself higher so she would have enough room to go under you. paige felt her ears get hot when you pressed yourself right up against her, her breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes for a split second.

“go under me.” you told her, trying to ignore the heat creeping through your core from the position. she hummed and nodded her head before sliding her left arm under her right one and under you. the reach wasn’t entirely impossible but as she moved she accidentally knocked into you and since you were already thrown off from being pressed against her, you lost your balance and fell down onto the mat.

“ha!” krystal shouted as she pointed a finger at you, her head fell back with a loud laugh. “you lost!”

“no,” you whined, dragging the word out with a small pout because one thing you hated more than anything was losing. you rolled over onto your back and stared up at paige with a blank expression. “this is your fault. you’re gonna regret this.”

“is that a threat?” paige laughed and tilted her head to the side. you narrowed your eyes and ran the tip of your tongue over your top teeth before sucking them. you lowered your voice so you sounded more sinister than you actually were.

“that’s a promise, bueckers.”

“ouuu, i’m so scared.” she teased back as she moved from above you. now she was sitting beside you with her hands planted on the floor behind her and her legs bent at the knees. you sat up and rolled your eyes, though there was no real heat behind them—okay, maybe a little, you really hated losing.

“you should be.” you pointed your finger at her as you stood up. you glared at her to make your words seem more threatening but she just laughed at you—like, head thrown back laughing. her eyes followed your every move as you picked up your phone and gave krystal a quick hug and kiss. “alright, i’m gonna shower and get to bed.”

just as you turned to walk away paige called out, “goodnight, bug.” her voice had that teasing edge to it because she just knew how much you hated being called that.

you held your hand up and stuck your middle finger up at her but you didn’t turn around, you just kept walking—mostly because you had one of those shy, schoolgirl smiles on your face you didn’t need her seeing that.

especially not after all that’s happened today.

sleeping should’ve been easier than what it was. close your eyes, take a deep breath, boom, you’re asleep, but unfortunately it wasn’t that simple. it would have been if every time you closed your eyes you didn’t see paige and her insanely hot body. you twisted and turned to try and get in a comfortable position to fall asleep but it was like nothing was working.

you couldn’t get paige out of your head and it was seriously starting to get annoying. all you wanted was to go to sleep but you couldn’t when you kept picturing her standing there in the bathroom—water droplets clinging to her skin, her nipples hard and staring at you like a deer in headlights, the way her abs looked still glistening with water. your thighs squeezed together at the thought and it was like suddenly you weren’t in control of your mind anymore.

visions of her fully naked started to cross your mind, fantasies of her running her hands up your thighs, and if you thought hard enough you swore you could actually feel it. your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and you exhaled a shaky breath as you shifted your thighs against each other. then, you started to think about how she was hovering over you just a few hours ago—how she looked looking down at you, how the veins in her arms showed from the effort of holding her weight.

before you knew it you were lying flat on your back, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. that small little ache you had felt before had now turned into something more, something intense, and you knew if you didn’t fix it you would never get any sleep. with a soft groan, you blindly reached for your phone to check what time it was. 1:10 am.

it was late, so you figured that everyone was asleep but then you remember what happened the last time you thought that. still, you let out a soft huff and mentally debated on if you should shove your hand down your panties or if you should roll back over and pretend to sleep until you actually did. after a minute or two you were still laying there but now you had somewhat decided on what to do.

i can be quiet, right? you thought as you started to gnaw at your bottom lip. you sat up on your elbows and let your eyes scan the room, and you were squinting them a bit because the moonlight only shined so bright. the fan was on and it was loud enough to cover any questionable noises. the door was closed, no one would come in without knocking. you held your breath for a moment to see if you could hear any noises that would prove someone was still awake.

when you didn’t hear any you slowly nodded your head—mainly to confirm to yourself that you were in the clear—and you relaxed back into the sheets. you kept your hands relaxed by your head and started to think about something to get you started. you tried to not let your thoughts wander to that but the longer you laid there the harder it was getting.

what’s the harm in just thinking though? it’s not like she would even know.

you dropped your hand down and let it rest on your stomach just above your pantie line, giving into the thoughts of paige. you let your mind wander from seeing her naked to feeling her hovering over you. the entire time you traced your fingers over your skin, letting out a breathy sigh as your eyes fluttered shut.

you started to imagine that it was paige touching you— paige guiding you onto your back as she littered soft kisses down your skin. you thought she’d be gentle with you because, well, that’s just what she gave off—you know, under that “nonchalant” demeanor she puts on. you imagined she would take her time undressing you, so that’s what you did. you slowly lifted your shirt over your head and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed.

your hands cupped your chest gently, fingers already tracing your hardened nipples. a soft noise slipped from your throat when you gently pinched and rolled them between your fingers, your hips bucked slightly. you thought about how paige would touch you from here—would she take your panties off now or would she make you beg for it.

being the impatient girl you were, you went ahead and moved your hands down to slip your panties off. you kicked them off the side of the bed like you’d did with your shirt. the air from the fan sent a wave of cool air over your body and you shivered but if you were being honest it just turned you on more. you were already soaking wet from just the thought of her, the thought of what she would do if she had you under her like this.

you ghosted your fingers over your clit before sliding them through your folds, biting back a soft groan at how wet you were. you pressed your fingers against your clit in tight circles, making you suck in a sharp breath because you were so turned on you could already tell you wouldn’t last long.

the entire time you thought about her watching you, directing you the way she wanted it done. waiting no time, you ran your fingers down and eased your fingers. you squeezed your eyes shut and bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood so that you didn’t make a sound. when you started to move your fingers you thought about how her hands looked and how big they were, how deep her fingers would reach—how quick she could make you cum because she just looked like she’d be amazing at it.

your chest was rising and falling heavier now that your breathing had started picking up. you couldn’t control the soft whimpers falling from your lips as you pressed your fingers deeper and moved them faster. you rolled your hips forward in time with your fingers and somehow your brushed that one spot that had you moaning a little louder than you should’ve.

paige name slipped from your lips before you even realized it—a soft, breathy whine that had your eyes shooting open like she was really there to hear it. your fingers never stopped moving though, you couldn’t stop, not when you were already so close—your hips never stopped grinding down into your hand.

there was a soft creak in the hallways and you held your breath for a second, trying to see if you would hear it again. after a few seconds of quiet you decided that you were probably just hearing things and let yourself relax into the pleasure again. your cunt made a low, but obscene, noise as you gushed around your fingers and you thought that it might’ve had something to do with the fact your brain started to imagine that see was outside of your door listening to you. you knew that was probably not the case but the thought of it sent a shiver through your spine.

but what if she was? you thought. your lips parted with another trembling moan and you could feel your orgasm getting closer and closer. you were thinking about her voice now—how low and raspy it could get, how smooth she talked when she was talking to you. you just knew she’d talk you through it, tell you how good you felt wrapped around her fingers, how sweet you tasted. you could almost hear her telling you to cum for her or asking you if it felt good.

“fuck, paige—fuck fuck fuck—m’gonna cum.” you whined without even meaning to, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave. your back arched from the bed, only causing your fingers to press deeper, and your eyes rolled back. you let yourself ride it out by slowing your thrust but not stopping just yet. with a soft puff of air, you relaxed back onto the bed.

you pressed your thighs together as soon as you pulled your fingers out and the air from the fan blowing suddenly felt too cool. your fingers were still slick with your cum and getting out of bed again, getting dressed, and going all the way to the bathroom seem like too much of a task at the moment. instead, you placed your fingers in your mouth and licked them clean, humming softly because damn, you really did taste good.

after you were done you pulled the covers back over you and rolled back over, a satisfied smile on your face because well…

what better way to go to sleep?

[lynncade]

In which Zayne receives a midnight patient while you are resting in his home. Including: zayne and sylus FYI: sfw, cleaning open wounds

Soft sheets, clean and smelling of fresh cotton, tempt you to remain in the space between sleep and consciousness. Dreams of snow glistening in the moonlight and ribbons of red and black smoke call out to you but as you roll over to further bury yourself into the pillows you realize what had awoken you: soft knocking at the front door. Blinking your eyes open, you note a light on in the living room and hear the muffled footsteps of someone making their way to the door and opening it.

“You told me it was just a few scratches.” Zayne’s voice is measured, adopting the tone of a doctor examining his patient.

“It is. Some of them just happen to be in the shape of bullet holes,” answers another voice, deep and rich and definitely not supposed to be in Zayne’s house in the middle of the night.

The front door closes as your mind begins to race.

Sylus? Here? And what is this talk about scratches and bullet holes?

You start to throw the covers off to get out of bed but then Zayne’s voice sounds closer and in a split second you decide to conceal your face behind the blanket and freeze. “This would be easier with all my equipment at the hospital.”

“And here I thought Linkon’s foremost doctor could handle a few…scratches on his own.”

As the door to the bedroom opens further, you close your eyes. Concern and curiosity battle it out in your mind, the latter eventually taking over as you decide to let the scene play out. Something about these two men interacting feels like a colliding of universes: one safe and familiar, the other dangerous and intriguing. Unexpected, yet somehow always on the horizon as an eventual reality. Sure and undeniable.

“She’s still sleeping, please keep your voice down. This way.”

The door to the adjoining bathroom opens and the light flickers on.

“You don’t have anywhere else to do this,” Sylus asks, his voice lazy and bored as always but slightly strained. You recognize this tone, the one he uses to try to cover up how serious the situation is. “Have you ever dealt with her after she’s been woken up?”

Zayne lets out a breath of annoyance and then several sounds happen in succession: from what you can surmise, the medicine cabinet is opened and someone pulls bottles and packages out. With both of them supposedly preoccupied, you shift the blanket slightly to allow you a visual of the scene before you.

From your vantage point you catch glimpses of Zayne shuffling around the bathroom and Sylus watching him from the doorway, leaning against the frame with an arm wrapped around his middle. Blood drips from his shoulder down his arm. At the sight of it, worry inches its way up your spine as you try making sense of it all: Sylus, injured and in Zayne’s home. Zayne, gathering medical supplies and slipping into Doctor Mode. Both of them speak with familiarity. How do they know each other? And for how long? How was Sylus injured?

Questions continue to race through your mind as Zayne speaks again.

“If you wouldn’t mind, please step into the light so that I can better see and so that your blood doesn’t stain my carpet.”

Sylus steps in with a smirk, asking, “do you really not have another bathroom? Some doctor’s salary you must have, only enough for a one bed one bath.”

“She seems plenty happy with what my home offers. Sit.”

After a moment Zayne breaks the silence again, softer. “I’ll need you to remove your shirt.”

“Not even taking me to dinner first? Although from what she’s said of you, I know how fond you are of going straight for the dessert.”

“If you want to go to dinner with me you’ll have to dress nicer, this shirt is in shameful condition.”

“Careful, doc, this shirt costs more than your mortgage.”

“You seem entirely too concerned with where I live, how about we focus on making sure you stay alive long enough to return to whatever gothic mansion you most surely haunt?”

Sylus’s laughter, low and smooth, drifts through the doorway and settles your mounting nerves. He’s laughing, surely the injuries can’t be that terrible if he’s laughing? And with Zayne in charge of his care, that makes the situation feel more safe and stable. You continue listening, their voices falling silent for a few minutes as Zayne starts examining and cleaning the wounds. The slow, methodical way Zayne works, his fingers and movements gentle yet efficient, start lulling you back to sleep. You try fighting the temptation, but the safety of Zayne’s bed and knowing that both of them are okay made for convincing arguments to give in.

Just as you feel yourself slipping, Sylus makes another comment. “I can see why she keeps you around, you could actually make a career out of this.”

To your surprise, you hear Zayne chuckle. “I suppose one of us should have an actual career and you don’t seem to be making any advances in that regard.”

“I see my doctor has impossibly high standards. And here I thought owning several establishments and hosting multiple high-profile auctions would constitute a worthy career. ”

“And to keep my plausible deniability I will not question the legality of any of those ventures,” Zayne quips as he starts stitching one of the wounds.

“If you’re worried about operating within the bounds of the law, doc, you might not want to continue patching up strangers that show up on your doorstep in the middle of the night.”

Strangers?

As if hearing your thought, Zayne responds, “we’re hardly strangers anymore, though I would request a little more forethought before your visits in the future.”

“Ha, next time I’ll alert the people shooting at me that my doctor requests I take less bullets.”

Silence again. You see Zayne finishing up a few stitches and then carefully turning Sylus’s arm towards the light, examining his work and nodding to himself. As he starts cleaning his supplies, Sylus draws out a question.

“You won’t tell her…?”

Zayne pauses then turns to Sylus. “Doctor-patient confidentiality, there’s nothing to tell.” He resumes clearing the sink down, the sound of running water slightly muffling his voice. “Besides…she would say…”

Sylus responds but you can’t be sure what exactly he says, the rushing of the sink completely concealing his words. You try leaning closer to the edge of the bed in hopes of picking up the threads of conversation again but as you move, one of the pillows falls to the floor. You quickly shut your eyes and try to steady your breathing to keep up the pretense of sleep.

Immediately, the sink cuts off and you hear both of them enter the bedroom. You feel their eyes on you, assessing just how asleep you are.

“I’ll see myself out,” Sylus whispers after a moment.

“No, I’ll walk with you. I have some antibiotics in my bag on the couch to send with you.”

Their voices trail off as they make their way into the living room. Silence falls and soon the rattling of a pill bottle fills the room followed by the sound of the front door opening.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting payment for services rendered,” Sylus asks, sounding more like himself.

“What services? You were never here.”

Sylus laughs softly. “Of course, we are strangers after all.” A beat of silence. “Let her sleep in tomorrow, work has been hard for her.”

“I know, I have no plans of waking her.”

A moment later you hear Sylus step outside and then the door closes. After locking up, Zayne spends a few minutes tidying up around the rooms, making sure that no traces of the midnight guest are left. Once he finishes and all the lights are off, you feel him slip into the bed next to you and under the covers.

The last thing you feel before sleep finally takes you is the warmth of Zayne pressing himself against your back and wrapping an arm around your waist. Thoughts run through your mind at a million miles per second, but the sound of Zayne’s easy breathing in your ear and the knowledge that Sylus is okay calm you enough for the night.

You’ll begin investigating your questions in the morning.

[brownblob]

Home Sweet Home

Jim Walters x GN!Reader

TW: Suggestive, toxic relationship dynamics, yandere, creepy Jim (ish?)

Consume, the need to devour you was necessary. It was a thought that engulfed him entirely - from his body to his mind. All he thought of was you, who was so close. Just a room away and sometimes right in front of him, sitting in silence - the carving on your neck, a collar of sorts displayed like a trophy. A rabbit, skittish like you - distrusting too.

Finally in his grasp, defiant or pliant, something he could mold - though not with the intention to change. It was with the intention to safe-keep, to help you, he insisted. Fragile things needed help, aid. He wasn't one to brag like that, not at first at least - but it was a fact, wasn't it?

You who was from a place so far away, locked with him in his little cabin with nowhere to go. Cute. You'd die if you stepped a foot out so he'd graciously take responsibility - hold you in his shaky arms, hoping you wouldn't find him repulsive. How could he not quake with you so near? How beautiful you were, so close yet so far. Lashes coated in tears, body moving in jagged steps. All to get away from him. Quite rude of you, he wouldn't push though. Not yet, as long as you stayed. Stayed close to him, within his gaze, under his nose, so close that he could touch you - just to make sure you weren't a fleeting dream.

Though the need for you wouldn't go away, the desire to melt into you - become one. So close, so utterly in sync. His movements would be smooth, as gentle as he could be in this moment of exasperation. Desperation as he pinned you beneath him, so full of life as you struggled for steadiness.

Struggle as you may, you have nowhere to go. So stay and melt under his touch, cry for him as he does for you, yearn for him. Tremor beneath him as he engulfs you, skin on skin so sinfully pure - the act of becoming one as you place your hands on his chest, stabilizing yourself.

Icy eyes look down at you adoring or obsessive, hands either gentle or rough, body warm or cold, and words sweet or biting.

Stupid you are for trying to run, he warned you it would hurt you - now he's the one who has to patch you up. You cry into his shoulder as he awkwardly cradles your body, cursing himself as his blush deepens. Blame him for all he's worth but to be depended on by you was all he ever wanted. Hands in your hair as he talks to you, warming up your body. A kiss to your forehead as he relishes in your stillness, comfort. How long has it been? You aren't sure. You never did end up going back to the Little Cub Cabin. You ponder as you sip the drink he's given you. You swear it has something in it, though he proved you wrong by gulping it one go once. Nevertheless it doesn't make sense. Why else do you always end up in bed after. Limbs tangled together as your head pounds. Not that you mind, not anymore. Not when he is home.

.

.

.

Home sweet home.

Note: AHHHHHH i"ve been so obsessed with this game since playing it and oml oml this man deserves more content on him. I know this isn't my usual content but i just HAD to. Also creator/author @hereisremina of this game YOU COOKED SERVED AND ATE. I hope this little fic shows my appreciation (more coming) for the absolute artwork you've produced. Note 2: So guys i know it's been SOOOOOOO long since i last posted something significant and I am so sorry. It's been really difficult with responsibilities and a LOT of writers block. I'll try making more content but I might also be branching out to other fandoms than just TWST, as you can see here. My guilty pleasures are yanderes (yes I am self obsessed because i wanna be the one thing that consumes another's thoughts. Sue me.) so I might be focusing on such content now...who knows

Note 3: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post, my blog, and reblog! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated! Thank you!

[hearts4hughes]

DUE DILIGENCE ~ CHAPTER SEVEN

wallstreet!rafe x assistant!reader | warnings: power imbalance, implied past violence, toxic romantic undertones, obsessive behavior, themes of fear, paranoia, and control

you don’t sleep after the message. not deeply or soundly. you lie in rafe’s bed with his arms around you, the scent of cedar and sweat and sex tangled in the sheets, and all you can hear is the phantom buzz of your phone. the words burned into the screen like a warning label you didn’t know you were carrying.

you’re not safe.

it was just a text. no name and no number and no hint of where it came from. but it stuck in your spine and under your skin like smoke you couldn’t cough out.

rafe didn’t see it—you made sure of that. he’d fallen asleep with his face buried in your shoulder, hands curled like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. he hadn’t spoken much after. honestly, he hadn’t needed to. the way he touched you said enough—desperate, reverent, like he was apologizing for something he hadn’t confessed yet. you watched him sleep until the sky turned gray. then you slipped out as quietly as you can like a secret.

~

the next morning, the office feels colder than usual. you brush it off at first. convince yourself it’s nothing. residual tension, maybe a late start. but the silence hums differently. the air feels pressurized as your heels click the cold tile. that’s when you see them. they are tall, brooding, and intimidating. although, that’s not what makes your stomach twist. it’s the shiny badge on their lapels that makes that ugly feeling.

they don’t stop you nor do they speak, but one of them watches you too long. like he already knows your name and everything about you.

you keep walking, keeping your head high and your gaze forward. sweat beads on your forehead as you pretend your pulse isn’t going ballistic. you try not to think about the message again. but again, it slips into your mind like a snake.

you’re not safe.

the contents of your breakfast dare to come back up at the mere thought. you make it to your desk just in time to hear the tail end of rafe’s voice—low, firm, threaded with a tension he usually keeps hidden under expensive tailoring and a cut glass tone. he’s speaking to someone in his office, door cracked open just enough for you to see the outline of a fed flipping through a folder like he’s already made up his mind.

you pretend not to look. pretend you don’t see the set of rafe’s jaw. the way he straightens his spine like someone’s about to swing. ten minutes later, the door opens. rafe steps out and he finds you instantly.

his tie is perfect, his face unreadable, but you know him now. enough to sense that something is off. he crosses the floor with sharp purpose, stopping just in front of your desk. “go home,” he says, arms crossed in front of his chest like he wasn’t inside of you last night.

you scoff out a laugh. “what?”

“take the day off. get your nails done. sleep. do whatever you want.” he rambles off. it’s increasingly hard to keep his gaze on yours. guilt coils in his gut, cold and mean and quiet.

your fingers pull away from the keyboard. you look around to see if anyone else hears this—they don’t. most of them have trained their ears to filter out mr. cameron’s private conversations. “why?” your tone is hesitant.

he glances once toward the lobby, then back at you. “it’s nothing. just standard. they’re not here for you.” he’s lying. the three glooming men aren’t there for you, but this definitely isn’t routine. you know the shape of his truth by now, and this one’s too smooth to be clean.

you tilt your head. “rafe-”

“it’s mr. cameron in here, y/n.” he snaps before taking a breath and softening his gaze. “please.”

your breath catches. he doesn’t say that word often. it’s not a part of his vocabulary. not unless something’s wrong. “fine,” you say quietly. “i’ll go.”

~

you last maybe forty minutes. just long enough to sit in a coffee shop across the street and stare at your phone. no new messages. just the last one, still bolded at the top of your screen like it’s mocking you.

you’re not safe.

you try to ignore it. try to convince yourself it’s nothing more than a bad prank. a scare tactic or a coincidence. though, the chill in your gut says otherwise.

bringing the cup to your lips, you take a sip. it doesn’t taste right. like even the coffee is telling you to go back. you slam the cup down onto the wooden table and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“fuck it,” you mumble before collecting your things and making that familiar walk towards the office.

the building is quiet when you return. low lights, mostly empty. it’s not usual for everyone to have filtered out this early. maybe rafe let them off early as well.

you drift into his office with the ease of someone who knows all his passwords. you don’t touch anything sensitive, just tidy his desktop, check the decks, update the upcoming pitch timelines. something to ground you, something to make you feel useful.

you’re closing out a spreadsheet when the door clicks. your hands freeze on his keyboard like a teenager caught with porn. his silhouette cuts clean through the dim light. stubble of a beard ghosting his cheeks, hair slightly mussed. he looks at you like he’s not sure if you’re real. “you’re still here,” he sighs, running a hand through his dirty-blonde hair.

you close the laptop, lips in a tight line. “so are you.”

rafe steps inside and shuts the door behind him. “i told you to go home.”

“and i ignored you.”

his mouth tightens. “you can’t be in this room right now.”

“why? because it makes me a liability?” you sit back, crossing your arms over your chest.

he exhales before crosses to you in three strides. “because they’re watching,” he says tightly. “and it’s more dangerous than you think to be seen with me.”

something in you snaps. “you don’t get to decide how safe i am.” you shove him, hands hitting his toned chest. “you don’t get to decide what i know or what i see or what i sign.” you mutter. “just because we have this,” you motion to the confusing relationship dynamic the two of you have. “doesn’t mean you can control me.”

he grabs your wrist—not hard just fast. it’s a reflex by now. your skin turns to ice beneath his clutch. his grip isn’t bruising, it’s grounding. “you think i want to keep you in the dark?” his voice breaks low. “i’m doing this because i have to because if i don’t, they will come for you, and i won’t be able to stop them.”

you meet his eyes. they’re bloodshot with dark circles underneath to match. he looks wrecked. something breaks open between you. he pulls you in. not rough like usual, just close. his mouth brushes yours like a question, a prayer, a warning. then he kisses you—slow and captivating, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you.

you melt against him. not because it’s safe but because it’s true. he pulls away eventually. rests his forehead against yours. “i didn’t have anyone,” he says quietly. “growing up. ward, my father,” he squeezes his eyes shut like the memories hurt him. “he didn’t raise kids, he built soldiers. i used to sit in meetings with him when i was eight. listen to him gut men with his voice alone. he’d look at me after like i was supposed to clap.” your throat bobs at his words. “and you?” he says, voice rough now. “you walked in here and looked me in the eye like i was just a man. not a monster. just…me.”

you press your palm to his chest. feel the thud of something dangerous and tender beneath your hand. “you’re not a monster,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his nose.

he doesn’t respond. but his hands slide down your arms, slow and aching. “i’ve never trusted anyone like this.” it’s not a confession. it’s a collapse. you hold him anyway.

~

you leave late and he doesn’t try to stop you this time. the city feels different on the walk home. it’s too quiet and too dark. when you open the door, your apartment’s colder than usual. you flick on one lamp and shrug out of your coat. you kick your heels off somewhere near the door. you grab the first hair tie you find and throw your hair into a messy bun.

when you click on the kitchen light, there’s an envelope on your counter. your breath catches in your throat. your skin tingles and you look around, expecting someone behind you that isn’t there.

there’s no stamp. no address. just scribbled writing addresses to your name. your fingers brush over the rough paper before you open it slowly. you hold it open and peak inside. there lies a flash drive. no other note or writing. it’s small and appears harmless, but the word written across in thick sharpie is a tell-tale sign that it’s not.

CAMERON

your breath catches. you think of the text again.

you’re not safe.

the small device clatters against the marble of your counter as you drop it. a flash of plastic, sharp edges, too light for the weight it carries. you stare at it. your body doesn’t move right away. fear doesn’t slam into you, it seeps—slow, cold, and precise. it curls up your spine like an intruder who already knows the way around your house. your breath comes shallow. not fast, not frantic, just thin. like your lungs suddenly forgot how to trust the air. you want to step back, but you don’t. instead, you reach for the counter to steady yourself. the marble is cool beneath your palm, but your skin is hot—flushed with knowing.

you cross the room without thinking. on instinct, or adrenaline, or maybe that hollow momentum that only shows up when something irreversible is about to happen.

your laptop is already open on the kitchen table, half-full coffee mug beside it, unread emails glowing like nothing’s wrong. but something is and it’s in your hand.

you slot the flash drive into the port. it clicks in with a quiet little sound. as if it’s not about to shatter whatever thin barrier of safety you have left. your screen goes black for a second. then flashes white. a folder appears. there’s no title, no metadata, no timestamp. just one file. your finger pauses before you drag the cursor over the file and you click. the screen flickers once and you wait. something is loading. you can feel it not only in your mind, but in your stomach and in your heart.

then, a frame appears. it’s blurry, shaky, and handheld. almost like surveillance or blackmail. something that wasn’t meant to be seen. and there, in the center of the screen stands a familiar silhouette. your stomach drops and your fingers curl into the table because you already know who it is—rafe—and he’s not alone.

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[gonegonethankyouuu]

Adding to this cause I’ve been in a going out mood and yet my days have only been date everything and work 💔

But ya… imagine having some friends over for prinks (pre drinks), and your “housemates” get to meet your friends informally. You pile into the kitchen, play some music, cackling at some old inside jokes that ye used to have, side eyeing all the furniture affectionately as if to say “Well duh… you guys can hear this too!” (Just do NOT light any cigarettes on scandalabra or you will NOT hear the end of it!!!) (Make sure to move him off the dining table lest he overhear your best friend talking about a recent date they had…)

Eventually the uber arrives/ its time to make the trek to the club/bar/dinner reservation with your friends all hooting and hollering squeezing through the door. And although you feel a longing in your stomach… to bring everyone else along, you sigh, keep skylar safely on Abel and blow a kiss to Dorian as you leave.

“Keep everyone safe.. I’ll be home soon <3”

You swear you could see the door swing lightly, almost like a wave goodbye…

(Yes Ik we can’t leave the house while skylar is in our possession but this sign can’t stop me cause I can’t reaaaadddd!!)

the IDEA of you getting ready for a night on the town with your friends.

you, dripping in drop dead gorgeousness, excited by the prospect of living just a little.

BUT the object you’re dating, harbors a little jealousy that they can’t go with you :(

[faggotbeloved]

Hi!! May I request for a small flashback from S.T.A.R.S. days (according to your 3SA story)? Reader being an absolute sweetheart to Wesker and taking care of him even before their official relationship, making him start to develop his obsession with reader perhaps? I don’t know, I’m dying for some cute little background flashbacks of them two and how sweet and naive reader might have been back then😭😭

Anon,,, I am So. So Sorry. I intended to follow this correctly, but it turned into angst... there's some cute reader scenes in it though trust (the first 3)

Three Steps Ahead | Yandere!Albert Wesker x GN!Reader

5: Hindsight Glasses (20/20) (~3.5k words)

Cw: religious imagery, christianic metaphors, child abuse (wesker children), flashbacks, annoying ass extended metaphors, accidental domestic abuse, mental breakdown, hallucinations (of a sort), body horror, glass shards in palms, blood, stitches, angst, albert is Going Through It

└───────────────────────┘

Albert sat alone in his study, nursing a glass of fine whiskey and flipping through an old book. He’d been doing that more often now. Being around you was a double edged sword: he loved you more than life itself—everything he did was for you since the moment you first met—but now it was tainted. By his own hand.

Albert recalled what you’d said just last week. ‘Is it bad to be happy if you're happy with a bad person?’

No, he wanted to scream, he’s not bad. He’s not remotely bad. Was God bad when he sent the flood? What was he, but a man reaching godhood and sending his own? Damn the promise of the rainbow; this Earth was vile, and you… you were the only creature worthy of making it aboard the Ark.

The rest of the survivors of his plans could find their way above the water and join his perfect world, but you? You would be kept safe and sound where he could watch over you. How was that bad? He was protecting you! Damnnit, you risked your life every day, and now that he pulled you to safety he was ‘bad?’

The book he held snapped shut as he stood, downing four or so ounces of whiskey in one drink. The buzz as it traveled down his throat was grounding, he decided, but not strong enough to focus him elsewhere.

His thoughts stayed on you. They should be on his project, he recognized that, but his mind never seemed to tire of your face. He wondered how much rewriting of your brain it would take in order to get even close to the affection you naturally shared back before he left S.T.A.R.S..

S.T.A.R.S.. Life was so much easier then. Well, perhaps the double life he led was tedious, but he had you completely. Now, you were a shell. You had sex a couple times since he brought you here; they made him feel closer, like he was making progress with you, sure, but so many stinging reminders plagued his head.

First and foremost, you had fallen for someone else while he was gone—you still loved Chris, from what he could tell. Second, you were here against your will; no amount of cuddling and home cooked meals and tiny personal freedoms would change that. Third, you thought he and his plans were inherently evil.

Before, he had your entire personality. Your highs and lows, your utmost confidence, your jokes, your vulnerability… your trust. That was who he fell in love with. Not the version of you that stared at the ceiling and searched for hidden security cameras to ease your unrelenting boredom.

Albert was usually thankful for his impressive memory and strong imagination. It was what got him through separation; replaying every interaction like a comforting movie and imagining what could have been what could be.

Now, it seemed like a curse.

──────────────────────

“Hey, Captain,” your voice called out as you smiled at him. “I made two thermoses of coffee. Want any?”

“Tea is preferred,” he said coldly, but when he saw your deflating shoulders he backtracked, “but I appreciate the sentiment. Very much. I'll drink it.”

“I-It’s alright, Captain, I could give it to—”

“I’d like the coffee, please,” he replied, standing up to take it. It was hot still, too hot, but he swallowed the mouthful regardless and nodded. “It's very good. Thank you.”

Was he lying? Maybe. He never cared for the taste and caffeine was only useful as an addition to painkillers, in his opinion. But he liked hot drinks and could gladly sip a morning tea on some occasions.

Somehow, the coffee you gave him—oh, he hoped that you made it entirely yourself—tasted more tolerable than the usual garbage that comes out of the machine in the break room.

“You're welcome,” you chuckled softly before you left to clock in. He savored the lingering affection in your glance and stowed it away to admire another time.

──────────────────────

The memory was engraved in Albert's mind, a mundane plaque in the vast shrine he'd mentally accumulated. In his brain was a museum; a nature trail with hundreds of instances like that; some were in the form of sticky notes you'd leave on his monitor when he left the room, some were monoliths with your essence engraved on every surface as tiny as it could be.

This specific memory was golden from where the bronze wore down. He found himself going back to it often. It wasn't when he first noticed you, that honor had its place as the very earth he built on. With every step he took down memory lane, he was reminded of that. No, it was when he realized how much he wanted to be the first.

The first person you thought of when wondering who to bring a cup of coffee; the first pair of eyes you see when you come in for work; the first man to marry you; the first in all your lists.

Back then, he cruelly deprived himself of the recognition that he loved you, but he knew what he felt wasn’t sustainable unless he acted on it.

As he walked deeper into the recesses of his mind, he landed on another. Somehow, Jill discovered his birthday. He hated the holiday; it was more a reminder of the decades of abuse by the hands of Umbrella than anything for merriment.

When Albert thought about his birthday, he pictured practicing piano until his fingers locked up, being sent to bed with no food in his growling stomach, and the dull ache that came with being utterly alone in a room full of children your age. He supposed all the Wesker children felt the same in their misery.

Regardless, the image of his birthday in 1997 faded into his mind.

──────────────────────

“Hey, Captain,” you murmured as you rapped on his open door gently. “How’re you feeling?”

Without looking up from his desk where he glared at a couple wrapped presents, he growled out a reply. “Just fine, Agent.”

“You're burning a hole through your desk. That’s good oak, you know,” you teased softly. You grinned triumphantly, as hidden as you could be from Albert’s eyes, as Albert smiled.

After a moment of silence, you continued. “I didn’t wanna ambush you like the others did. I guess I failed, since I'm cornering you in your office. They didn’t mean any harm, Cap. Just wanted to show their appreciation.”

Albert swallowed and motioned for you to sit down. He still didn’t speak.

“I cleaned and polished your gun for you… and I got you this. Birthdays aren’t always a cause for celebration, I know, but… I’m at least a little happy. If not for today, 37 years ago, I would still be a rookie cop doing fuck all to make a real change. You’re a good Captain, Albert. And a good man.”

Albert glanced up, eyes as steely as possible. Unfortunately, you had a knack for getting under his defenses, and you spot the sorrow in his eyes with ease. As you set the wrapped box down on his desk atop the other presents, you decided to say one more thing.

“...We care about you. All of us. Especially me,” you said firmly. “Happy birthday, Albert,” you added as you stood up.

Albert. You said his name. Not Captain, not Wesker, Albert. He wasn't a prodigy with a name heavy enough to turn coal to diamonds, he wasn't the leader of an elite force or even a heading scientist for bioterrorists in his free time. He was Albert.

Suddenly, his hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Ah—I’m sorry,” he muttered as he dropped it like hot coal. “I was going to ask if you’d… keep me company. It’s no fun to open presents alone,” he requested weakly, head down in shame.

Brightly, you nodded and moved your chair beside him. “We can open mine last. I’m actually curious as to what those idiots got you.”

──────────────────────

That was the first time you'd dropped all formality and just said his name. He recalled the shape of your lips as you said it, unsure but aware of your power. He didn't want to open presents, truth be told, he wanted to pull you into a hug and bury his face into your chest and hold and be held. It was humiliating.

Albert huffed. He missed you from then right now. You were so precious. He still loved you, of course, but he’d trade anything to go back and bask in the simplicity of your romance for just a bit longer.

He tried to get back to work, idly rotating the whiskey glass in his fingers to occupy his hands, but you crept in and soon his head was in his hands as he contemplated going through another evocation for a brief respite from the gnarled feeling in the pit of his stomach. He settled on a safe one; among his favorites, more frequently visited than others, he noted the first time you said it.

I love you.

You sat with him in the medical bay, bandaging his wounds from his most recent assault. It wasn’t a pleasant fight, nor was it honorable, especially if you knew what he was fighting for. He murdered a man without a weapon, then beat him into the concrete for good measure.

The man in question wanted to ask you out to dinner, but you didn't need to know that. You just needed to know what Albert told you, that he boasted about unspecified abhorrent plans. To Albert, he was telling the truth; infringing on his right to have you was abhorrent.

──────────────────────

“Albert Wesker, how the hell do you find yourself in these situations?” You sighed playfully. “Who was it this time? Actually, don't tell me, I think I see skin cells under your nails. I could try to DNA match.”

“It doesn’t matter. Ah! Careful around my arm,” he requested, referring to the bicep that was slashed open in a careless mistake while guarding against the man's knife. You happened to page him, wondering where he disappeared to after you went to the bathroom.

“It's lucky that you overheard terrorist plans in the same bar the team headed to,” you hummed. “I'm glad you put a stop to it.”

Albert gazed down at your focused face like he was memorizing it (which, he was). “As am I. Thank you, dear, for helping me.”

“Dear?” You echoed playfully. You glanced up briefly, then flushed at his own engrossed expression and bent your head back down to the task. “Well… anything I can do for you, Captain, consider it done.”

A warm silence filled the room. His arm was wrapped and stitched up just fine and the bleeding was minimal, so you turned to his split and bruised knuckles. You cleaned and wrapped them, then put ice on both hands.

“You've got to stop getting hurt like this, Cap,” you directed.

Albert smiled. “Why should I, if it means I have you tending to my wounds?”

After an eye roll and gentle shove (on his uninjured arm), you replied. “Well, we’re burning through a lot of supplies, for one. And for two, I love you too much to meet you here day after day. The smell of antiseptic makes my stomach drop with dread.”

Albert’s mouth fell agape in shock as he had to remind himself to breathe. And you? You just kept working, like you didn’t just skyrocket his blood pressure and heart rate and yet make his entire brain go silent.

“S-Say again?” He asked to confirm your words.

“You're wasting supplies and I love you too much to see you in pain,” you summarized.

After another few moments of stunned silence, he whispered, “You love me?”

You suddenly realized what you'd said. “Ah! I-I mean, in an appropriate way. I care for you. I—”

“I love you, too.”

You froze. The hug you pulled him into moments later strained his stitches on his arm, but he decided not to tell you.

──────────────────────

He took a sweet satisfaction in that memory, knowing that he'd gotten away with murder and you'd confessed to him while you dressed the weapon.

The recollection was a statue; frequently revisited, with a bench in front and a beautiful view of the surrounding environs. Cast in the same bronze as the kind on every plaque was the hug you brought him into.

As he continued down the road, single-mindedly driven by the pleasantry of the last experience, he paid no mind to the sky dimming and the trail growing gnarled and claustrophobic.

He found another favorite, one he didn't recall why he locked away. It was short, much shorter than every other one, but he loved basking in its feeling.

You'd just come off an… endeavor in the S.T.A.R.S. break room on a day everyone was off, and he was more than content to stare at and admire your face and listen to your voice carry on while he was blissfully checked out of cognizant thought.

He could picture you clearly, face close to his and bathed in afternoon sun. Your eyelashes framed your mesmerizing eyes, your lips kiss-bruised and turned up in a contented smile.

Your body was pliant and littered with hickeys that you mandated had to be covered by your uniform. His was faring no better; he'd actually requested a couple bruises to be placed where they'd show above the neck of his shirt.

If Albert could have frozen time, he would have waited an eternity in that moment and still lamented once eternity ended.

Albert was so engrossed in reliving this perfect moment a thousand times over, he didn't notice his mind growing darker, falling down, down, down, and landing with a splash at the bottom of a well so deep he could see the stars in the middle of the day.

No, the warmth of your image overtook the chill that came with the foreboding feeling of a mind slipping; he ignored it simply because he wanted to feel you more.

──────────────────────

“Bee?” you spoke softly.

“Yes, my love?” Albert turned to you, noting your messy hair from your tryst and yet deciding you looked beautiful. He set a hand on your cheek, stroking the contour of your face almost as a form of worship.

Perhaps you were more God than he was. Perhaps you deserved temples built in your name and more people killed for your favor. Perhaps he would find true purpose as your most loyal disciple. Perhaps he could only be happy if he was worshipping you.

He realized you’d been talking.

“—and I’d never want to leave Raccoon City of my own volition, but they kind of need me back home. It wouldn't be for too long; maybe a few years at most.”

What? The memory usually cut off there.

─────── ─── ─── ── ─ ─

No. Stop. Stop, he didn’t want to remember this.

─── ──── ──── ── ─

“Pardon me?” he croaked, sitting up rigidly.

“I’m going to go, I think. I worry that without me—”

“You’re not leaving me,” Albert stated shakily. “That’s what you’re trying to do, isn’t it?”

He felt his breath shorten. “You can’t. You… you’re everything, you can’t leave me,” he said weakly, grabbing your shoulder harshly while tears threatened to pool. "I've never had... you can't deprive me of yourself without warning!"

───── ── ─── ─

He didn’t feel good about this part! He just wanted to—he wanted to remember you! Stop fucking thinking, Albert!

──── ─── ── ─

“What? Al, I’m not trying to leave you. I just need to go home for a while,” you defended, anxiety raised at his volatile response. Why were you scared of him? You had no reason to be! He fucked up, so badly. You—the only person in the world he cared for—were scared of him.

“No! I am your home!” He argued hoarsely, eyes wide with instability. “I’m first, right? I come before them, don’t I?” He should be your home! You were his!

─ ─ ── ─

Albert slammed his fist down on the table beside him—or was it a nightstand? He heard glass shatter. Was it his memory or was it real? It was all real to him.

Stop! Will you stop? I don’t want to relive this!

─ ──

“What the hell is with you, Albert? Get off of me!” You screamed, scrambling up from the bed. As you hurried to dress yourself, he got up too and grabbed your arm.

“Nothing’s ‘with me’! Perhaps I don’t want my partner to leave me for a bullshit reason! You don't appreciate my love like I do yours, is that it?"

─

Why are you doing this, Albert? They won’t love you if you don’t get a handle on yourself. Let them go!

“Fine! Fuck, I won’t go! I’ll stay here,” you cried, wrenching your forearm from his grasp and inspecting the bruise. He hurt you—not as manipulation, just out of panic and anger. He hurt you.

“...oh, no. No, no, no. Darling, I-I’m so sorry. Please. I’m not sure what came over me, I just—”

You looked up at him with fear and betrayal in your eyes.

“No,” he choked out, “No, I'm sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered, finding himself on his knees before you, palms bleeding from the whiskey glass he shattered in his hands.

“I hate you, Wesker,” you growled coldly, peering down at him from your pedestal. “Everything we had is gone.” When were you on a pedestal?

“No, no, no… that's not right. This isn't real. You never said that, darling,” he sobbed. “This must be a—a waking nightmare. You never said that. You never said that.”

“But it is true, isn't it? I hate you. Nothing you do will bring back the version of me that you miss. They're dead,” you said coolly, a sadistic smile as you watched his groveling.

“That's wrong!” He insisted hysterically, running his hands through his hair and slicing his palms further on the follicles. Blood stained his pristine light hair, dripped down his temples, and repelled from his lab coat, ending up in droplets on the floor.

“It's not true, you don't hate me, you don't hate me, you don't hate me,” he repeated over and over, like he was convincing himself. “...right?”

“What do you think, Wesker? Would I be here if I was given the chance? Would I kiss you when you walk through the door if not for the shocks? Would I feel any semblance of guilt if I managed to kill you back at the Estate?” You—no, your image reflecting his insecurities—questioned cruelly.

“You… would,” Albert shook his head, hugging himself to make the bleeding stop. All it did was apply pressure and make rivulets of crimson streak down his biceps. He pulled his knees to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, but his damned imagination.

Luckily, he managed to steer it back into the memory from before and finished the mental scene.

“It’s—Bee, it's alright. You didn't mean to. Just don't do that again, okay? It hurt,” you said softly, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, darling. So, so much.”

You were the first good thing in his life. Why did he react like that to you leaving?

Abruptly, an alert on his computer snapped him out of his breakdown. An alert from you—the real you, not the one his tortured mind devised as a self-destructive punishment. He checked the time. 16:53. He was nearly three hours late for lunch with you. Fuck.

Considering you refused breakfast this morning because you couldn't watch him cook it, you must have been hungry enough to actually alert him.

Without any of the grace he was known for, he grabbed your now-room-temperature food and hurried down corridors into his apartment. He burst in, desperation overtaking him. “My love! I’m so sorry, I got—I was caught up. I’m done for the rest of the day. I need you to hold me.”

You flashed a quizzical glance at him and sat up from where you laid on the couch. “Noted. Are you alright, Al?”

Al. That comforted him, if slightly. “I will be. Hurry and eat, I’ll be in bed.”

─────── ─── ─── ── ─ ─

You slunk into bed a few minutes later, and the moment he felt your weight shift the bed he cuddled into your chest and forced back tears.

To soothe himself, he shifted from the crook of your neck to inhale your scent to your sternum to be surrounded by your chest on all sides. It didn't matter how broad or narrow your body was, he didn't want to lift his face from his body until he was sure he wouldn't cry.

You were all he had. All he wanted, all he needs. How could he live with himself if you didn't want him?

“You'll forgive me, won't you?” He wondered timidly.

You shushed him, suddenly aware of how dire a state his mental health was at. “Forgive you for what, Bee?”

Swallowing thickly, he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “You don't hate me?”

“No, sweetheart, I don't.”

“You said—no, I imagined it, didn't I? You're real. You don't… you don't have to wear any of the collars or bracelets anymore. I'm taking it off, can I have your hand?” He asked urgently, taking off the bracelet like it was poisoning you.

“Albert, you're burning up—oh my god, your hands! Are those open wounds? Why is your hair wet? Is that blood? You—you tried to wash it off?”

“I heal fast,” he muttered, unintentionally tearing the scabs open as he crushed the bracelet in his bloodied palms. “There. No more of that. You can be trained in other ways.”

“Albert! Come to the bathroom, let me clean your hands,” you chastised. “Infection could do bad things to the viruses in your body.”

──────────────────────

As he was led to the bathroom, the memory from earlier of you doctoring his hands returned. He smiled softly and watched you unblinkingly. “I love you,” he murmured, trying hard to feel loved againt, just for his own comfort.

“...I love you too.” It was hesitant, like you were worried it was the truth. And it was. You loved him once more, even after everything. But you resolved to keep your grip on yourself; you wouldn’t aid him in any plans or harm any of your former coworkers.

This time, it was stitches on his hands that ripped as he brought you into a needy hug.

┌───────────────────────┐

Gonna start using this as a little ending ramble lol

This whole chapter was just me experimenting with a lot of things 💔 again anon I'm so sorry i kinda monkeys pawed it... Fluff but at what cost

Anyways this chapter is a little confusing and for that I'm sorry! I was inspired by encephalitis hannigram fics for the reality blurring, the scene in Django with the wine glass shattering for the whiskey glass breaking, Hannibal Lecter's mind palace for the shrine/collection of memories, there's a coraline reference somewhere in there... blehh idk

Maybe this whole chapter is ooc but it's because ummm ummmm let me live my life!!!

Read my other Wesker works?

[pinkkop]

This week's recap is brought to you by Su Yi's twilight lock screen! I did a double take when I saw it in episode 9 and I don't really understand why he has it but maybe someone else can connect the dots.

QL Recap for Week 25

The 16th of June to the 22nd of June

🇹🇭 Pit babe Season 2

Episode 8 of 13 || Airing on: iQiYi, Friday

Kim finally made a move and it seems like North will also make a move soon after his conversation with Dean, who seems to be the matchmaker of the season. I definitely didn't have "Chris is Tony's son" on my bingo card, and this could mean Way was also Tony's son? wtf! Question is whether special powers secondary genders have something to with genetics because if so then Chris might have powers as well! and the same with Tony! That would be a wild plot twist!!

🇹🇭 My Stubborn

Episode 10 of 12 || Airing on: iQiYi, Sunday

Sorn's suffering has been delicious and it also helped him figure out how to express himself to some degree and communicate his feelings even if it took him a couple of tries to get it right. I really liked how Sorn and Jun felt after they got together in the book so I'm excited for that next week. I will say though that Thai and Champ's NC scenes kinda paled in comparison to Jun and Sorn.

🇹🇭 The Bangkok Boy

Episode 9 of 12 || Airing on: Gagaoolala, Saturday

I saw how happy cherry looked when she took Mei's hand. Go get it, girl!! I love how we're finally seeing Mei blossom and with that we get to see her looking in Cherry's direction as well where before it was just Cherry looking longingly after Mei. Is that art pierce really a result of them going to town?! Wild thing to gift to someone and especially when it was intended to hang in such a public place and Sun hung it straight away without batting as eye which was similarly wild! Not entirely sure where Sun and Peace's relationship is at but I'm enjoying this show very much!

🇹🇭 Memoir Of Rati

Episode 1 of 12 || Airing on: Youtube, Friday

Promising first episode but GMMTV has been falling short for me lately so I don't necessarily trust that they can keep up this quality and do justice by this concept, which is super interesting but also a harder plot to pull off. Really hope to be proven wrong.

🇹🇭 The Next Prince

Episode 8 of 14 || Airing on: iQiYi, Saturday

Questionable decision to go to this protest and Khanin looked so awkward standing behind Jay. Also wasn't Calvin supposed to also go to this protest?! This protest plot line makes me hope that the ending will include Khanin dissolving the monarchy which could be interesting. Ramil and Paytai keep me interested but I think it's a pity that we don't get a deeper dive into their story. I wanna know how Paytai became Ramil's whipping boy and then how Paytai and Ramil grew close and how kink entered their sex lives. I wanna know what their safe word is and if it's a common thing for Ramil to struggle through this kind of scene because of his trauma and how it makes him feel. They just keep giving me an unsatisfying amount of screen time for all of the side couples and it frustrates me so much.

🇹🇭 Knock Out

Episode 6 of 12 || Airing on: WeTV, Friday

So Mawin is best at having sex? Is it just me or does that sound even more depressing? Anyone wanna take bets on who realizes that Ait and Mawin are something more first? I bet it's Keen. Keen and Thun are cute as hell and I'm just so happy that Keen has found a home in the boxing Gym. Even if I don't really care about Ait and Mawin I'm still enjoying this show.

🇰🇷 Ball Boy Tactics

Episode 6 of 8 || Airing on: Gagaoolala, Thursday

Oh they're cute and I feel for them so much. I definitely don't think the friends meant anything by their comments but are just a product of their upbringing but I totally understand how it can make Ji won insecure about coming out to them. I hope that when they finally come out to them that the friends prove that they are on their side entirely.

🇹🇭 Reset

Episode 4 of 10 || Airing on: iQiYi, Monday

I absolutely love their dynamic. The chemistry is so good and I love the feeling of a new and blooming relationship. You'd think their relationship would feel uneven with Thada already being into Armin before they met but it doesn't really. It feels like they're both getting to know each other and falling in love at the same time which I like. I hope Thada either lets Armin in on his secrets slowly or that Armin finds out slowly on this own.

🇹🇭 I Promise I Will Come Back

Episode 5 of 8 || Airing on: WeTV, Monday

The queer uncle and his real life story of lost love was so cute. I wish WeTV would at least subtitle the extra information we get about the places and culture, it is supposed to be a travel add after all and I want all the details. What I'm super curious about is how this show came to be, like how did this idea come about? how did they get Hsia En on board? how much Thai did he actually learn? how much is improv? and finally, why does Nankrai have all the NC scenes?? This show is just so cute and just oddly good, even if it is a little silly and very much a pulp.

🇹🇭 Denied Love

Episode 4 of 10 || Airing on: WeTV, Friday

I can't even imagine how hard it must be to stand at the alter, getting married to the person you love but they're crying because they're obviously in love with someone else and this person's broken your loves heart. Khem was just smiling and focusing on supporting Rin and keeping face overall. Khem weirdly reminds me of Prapai (and Rin of Sky but less so) which makes me think that the bravado and silliness will only be able to last for so long.

🇨🇳 The Sparkle In Your Eye

Episode 10 of ? || Airing on: Gagaoolala, Saturday

So you're saying that you've been in a long term relationship with this guy but you don't even know his favorite foods?! And you also got both of them to stop looking for Su Yi. I'm liking him less and less! And I feel so bad for Su Yi. This show has definitely taken a turn into some darker areas but I still find it interesting.

🇹🇭 My Sweetheart Jom

Episode 6 of 12 || Airing on: Youtube, Friday

I find it weird that Jom was so fast to believe that Yo is an addict and that he needs granny for him to fully realize that he is wrong about it. Still not hooked on the show or the pairing but I'm still a little curious about the plot.

🇹🇭 Boys in Love

Episode 10 of 12 || Airing on: Youtube, Sunday

Shane and Kit keeps being the best boys, Mon and Kim keep having the most frustrating plot that doesn't really feel like an actual plot, the teachers happened almost entirely off screen and Tar and Per did a lot but it didn't feel like much happened. Basically about a third of this show is working for me and I wish I could skip past the rest.

🇹🇭 The Ex-Morning

Episode 5 of 10 || Airing on: Youtube, Thursday

Same as last week: I'm not super into this show. I can't quite put a finger on why but it's definitely in part because of Tam still not telling Phi why he left. If I'm still thinking the same next week I'll probably leave it out of the weekly recap going forward.

I was away all weekend so the one show I didn't manage to catch up with was ToGetHer. The one downside of this show is that it airs two episodes of 1 hour ish runtime on Friday which is the day of most QLs, so it's not surprising that this show was the one I didn't managed to catch up with. We'll see if I manage to catch up for next week's recap.

That's it for this week!!

For links and airing schedule check out World of BL (Only for BLs)

[strawbairicake]

hallo Lia, before i say anything else i think i should apologize for taking so long to submit a request for your event—i kept either forgetting or endlessly second-guessing any draft of an ask i came up with because i didn’t want to end up annoying you, i hope you can forgive me :((

since it’s so late i completely understand if you don’t want to write this (especially if you aren’t interested in the idea), but would it be ok for me to request aventurine and a merman/merfolk au? i think it would be interesting to see him attempt (keyword: attempt) to court a human reader, but feel free to change the concept however you like ! thank you in advance, have a great day ♡

part of your world -aventurine x reader (mermaid/merfolk au!)

synopsis: the cute guy that mysteriously came ashore the beach is really intriguing, isn’t he?

warnings: none, it’s pure fluff! might be ooc though, apologies for that!

word count: 498

author’s note: yes the title was from the song from the little mermaid. no, i don’t have any regrets or better title names. anyway, thank you for requesting, Ruu! please don’t hesitate to come say hello or drop a request in my inbox! no beta, we die like my hopes n’ dreams /lh! would love to hear more from you! hopefully this idea fits (and maybe exceeds) your expectations; hope you enjoy! <3

book n’ dash event

tagging: @cmiru

acquiring human legs after having a mermaid tail all your life is quite the flex. that’s what Aventurine thought anyway. he had just washed up to shore when you came running over to him, in quite the panic.

“oh my gosh, are you okay? where did you come from?” you asked as you approached him. and Aventurine felt like he had come down with an ailment: he couldn’t speak, think, move (not that he tried any of these things). he was just frozen. god you were so pretty, did you know that?

“washed… up,” Aventurine replies, somewhat stunned at his lack of being able to form words. you nod, seemingly understanding what he said (you didn’t understand) and trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. you don’t want to overwhelm him, either.

“where are you from?” you asked after a few minutes of silence.

“the ocean. why?”

“okay… how did you get here, friend?” you asked.

friend… such a safe and comforting word. he knows you didn’t slip the word out intentionally. it was a speaking before thinking moment but you didn’t seem to regret or take back the word. 

“i… don’t know. i’m just… here.” he replies. you nod again. 

“i’m (name), nice to meet you. come with me, I’ll help you get on your feet. two more questions, can you understand what i’m saying? and what's your name?” 

“I’m Aventurine, and i can understand you well.”

satisfied with his answer, you help him off the sandy beach, giving him a towel you were carrying earlier. you help him wrap it around his waist and start walking to your apartment, not far from the beach luckily. you both make the short trek back to your home and you let him settle in before overwhelming him with more questions and activities for you to do.

“once you’re comfortable and dressed, we’re going to go to the mall and get you some clothes, okay?” 

“sure, thank you.” 

And so you were off. you headed to the mall, and got to the clothing store for your new friend. you let him pick out whatever he wanted. but before you both left the store, a small pearl bracelet caught his eye. 

“(Name), look,” Aventurine points to the bracelet.

“what’s wrong?” you ask as you see where his finger’s pointing, “oh, the bracelet? we can get it!” and as the nice clerk gets it out of the display and grabs it for you. you check out and head back to your apartment.

“what’s with the interest in the bracelet?” you asked him after he sat down on your couch.

“it’s a sign of loyalty and love in the mermaid language. you’ve also been kind to me.”

your breath hitched, and you gulp a bit nervously, “and?” 

“and even though we’ve just met, i want you to have it.” he says as he pushes the box to you. you think this cute mermaid-turned human is sticking around for a while longer.

©2025 strawbairicake. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter 8: SPENT AGES losing SLEEP

Summary: The Appalachian Mountains hide numerous monsters, and it's up to Taylor and the Bad Omens to prevent them from causing any harm. 

Word Count: 2.1k+

CW: supernatural themes, witchcraft

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave this temple without causing harm. 

Divider by @saradika-graphics

An hour later, Nick stood in our bedroom, peering at something on the ceiling I couldn't see. “It makes no sense,” he muttered, barely audible except to me. “This house is warded against evil spirits. I made sure of it.” 

He was referring to just after we met, when he secretly under the cover of night spelled my house to keep me safe from anything in the woods. When I became aware of his paranormal world, he put more in place. I hadn't known that it included anti-spirit protection, like it was some kind of home insurance. 

I had finally divulged seeing the shadow in the library parking lot, somehow equating it to today's appearance. We had even lumped in the shadow that had been at the edge of the property a few weeks ago, though something nagging in me said that it felt different. I just chalked it up to fear clouding my judgement. 

Even more frustrating to Nick was the silence coming from the forest. He had tried to call for Noah multiple times, but his attempts were as fruitful as mine. He even tried casting his senses out, but he found nothing. Like Noah wasn't even out in the forest.

“That's not like him,” Nick had mumbled, casting his eyes towards me as if he expected me to not be looking at him. He quickly averted his eyes when he saw that I was indeed looking, but not fast enough for me to be unable to see the darkness in them. 

I should've known that the plan would fail. 

Nick had also told me that the ritual worked. He couldn't feel any rot or decay, and that the woods felt… healthy. I wanted to crack a joke about how forest conservation had been solved with three orgasms, but I could tell Nick was still sore about the subject. 

In the present, I watched Nick place new protection spells and banishment wards. Jerry, now pleased as punch that he had essentially saved his parent from a ghost-lady, purred loudly on my lap. Though he had only just rammed his head into a wall, I still gave him pets and treats.

“Could it be something else?” I asked. 

“Maybe. Some things just don't add up,” he said. He closed his eyes and sighed out loud. “There. All done.” He pretended to dust his hands off.

“I feel safer already,” I said, even though I couldn't feel anything different.

“Oh, hush, you,” he said, waving his hand at me.

“Do you need to suck down on something green?” I asked teasingly. I neatly dodged the sock he threw at me. 

“No, I'm fine,” Nick said as he reached back and pulled his shirt off. He pulled back the covers on the bed and neatly slid in.

“What were you doing earlier, before everything happened?” I asked, finally getting the chance. 

“Well, firstly, I was dividing which pots were gonna be used for my Practice and which ones were gonna be for other stuff. Then I was getting the shed ready to be my workspace.” 

Late last fall, I had stated that a project I had wanted to do for this year was to tear down the old shed on the edge of our backyard. Nick intervened by mentioning that he could turn it into a place where he could make his poultices and oils and other stuff instead. I had agreed with him because all the plants he had brought with him when he moved in nearly gave me a panic attack. They had taken up so much space, and the cats kept kicking the soil out of the pots. After our first fight as a couple, and my subsequent meltdown, Nick had to help me unlearn some of the things my parents had instilled into me. 

“You remember what we promised?” I asked, slipping under the covers.

“That I'm supposed to teach you how to practice?” He said. “Of course I haven't.”

I let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“I’m not going back on that promise,” he reassured me as I slipped in next to him. I felt overdressed with my shorts and threadbare shirt.

As I snuggled next to him, I said “Thank you” into a clear patch of olive skin. 

Between his even breathing and the two cats purring on either side of us, it didn't take long for me to be lulled to sleep. But one thing still bothered me until I slipped into oblivion:

Where was Noah?

NICHOLAS

It had taken a little bit for Taylor to go to sleep, as if they were restless. Nicholas couldn't blame them, seeming as they were confronted by some sort of spectre. 

He had gone over the house three times, poking and prodding at the protection spells he had placed and renewed constantly. And the house wasn't haunted before they moved in; it wasn't haunted when Noah and his mom lived there. He had only just spread the rumor that it was haunted, and what good did that do?

Well, besides bringing Taylor to him. 

When Nicholas was absolutely sure that Taylor was in deep sleep and wouldn't be waking up for anything, he slowly got out of the bed. He got redressed and quietly walked out to the front porch, stealing one of his Granny's crochet blankets to take with him.

It was nearly three in the morning, much to Nicholas’ surprise, but that worked for him. It was almost Offering Time. It was almost like clockwork, where Noah would pick up whatever offering Taylor had placed on the silver plate. Except unsurprisingly, it wasn’t Noah who loped out of the woods.

Nick shifted from the white Grim to his human body. “You’re up late again,” Nick said from the steps.

For some reason, his words aggravated Nicholas. “He couldn't come here himself?” He asked. “He had to send you down here instead?”

Nick held his hands up in defense. “Hey, don't shoot me. I haven’t even seen him in a few days,” he said. 

The fact that Nick was here instead of Noah felt like another piece of the puzzle sliding home to Nicholas. “So where is he, then?” he asked. 

Nick seemed to ignore Nicholas as he stepped onto the porch, his nose lifting at whatever Taylor had left as an offering. “Are those their taco wontons? Oh, fuck me–”

Nicholas stepped into Nick's path. “What's his deal?” He pressed.

He caught the briefest of flashes of anger in Nick's eyes as well as a low warning growl, but it was gone as Nick shrugged. “He went up to Stony Man, dude. I didn't ask why.”

Stony Man. The place was a private, almost sanctuary-like place for Noah. Nicholas had tried to go up there once, but the journey up the mountain almost did him in. He had stayed long enough to get his True Name and was quick to journey back down.

If Noah had retreated up to there, then that meant he really was troubled. And he now had a good feeling he knew why. 

He stepped aside to let Nick pass, who was quick to wolf down half of the offering. A cruel part of him wanted to take away the rest, to starve Noah of the offering. The power of the thought took him by surprise and horrified him. No pettiness was worth the danger that would put Taylor in.

“You alright?” Nick asked, his mouth full.

Nicholas let out his anger in a single huff. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. He then stuck a cigarette in his mouth.

The two Nicks sat in silence on the front porch for a bit as they listened to life happening in the woods. It was only broken up when Nick wrapped the remaining wontons in foil. “Are you taking those to Jolly or Noah first?” Nicholas asked. 

"Well, Jolly, cuz Noah hasn't said anything about them.”

"He hasn't talked to you? At all?" 

“Jolly and I haven't seen him since the ritual happened. I only know he went up to Stony Man because that's where his trait went.” Nick shrugged.

The anger was bubbling in Nicholas' stomach again. “He needs to get over himself," he muttered to himself. 

“Hey man, maybe he needs time to recover from–” 

"From what?" Nicholas snapped. "From getting my partner for a night? When there's shit happening down here?"

He immediately regretted the outburst, as Nicki's hazel eyes widened. He was pretty sure he had also been a little too loud, as he heard a sound from inside the house that was undoubtedly one of the cats being startled. But he didn't apologize. 

“What's happened here?” Nick asked. 

Nicholas sighed, and told Nick about Taylor's shadow. When he got to the part where the shadow had been inside their house, Nick's face paled until it was almost the color of his fur. "You know what I'm talking about? 

“Well... I don't know if it's the same Thing, but there was something my mom told me when I had kissed a girl who wasn't my first girlfriend. About a woman in black who scared men who were cheating on their wives.”

When Nicholas only squinted in response, Nick blundered on. “If the Woman in Black saw you outside, she'd scare you into going back to your girl, or kill you if she caught you cheating again.”

“Besides the similarity in clothing, what does she have to do with this?” Nicholas asked. 

“Because I found two dead guys in the woods, and I know one of them liked to cheat on his wife. They'd go camping every time he did it, and would brag about it. Loudly.”

“But Taylor didn't cheat. I agreed to it. I was a cuck without actually getting to be a cuck.” 

"I don't know man! Maybe she doesn't see the... technicality of it. But I didn't even know she was a Thing.” 

But none of us believed the Watcher of the Woods was a Thing, either, Nicholas finished Nick's sentence in his mind. 

“Do you think those men were killed by a Thing?” he asked. 

"I know they had to be. One guy's head was clean ripped off.” 

This was bad. Had they done the ritual to banish one evil, only to raise another? And as Nicholas had held back the fact that the ritual wasn't a permanent solution - that it had to be performed once a year - he was certain now that it shouldn't be performed again if it might piss off some kind of vengeful ghost that- 

“What're we gonna do?” 

Nicki's voice cut through Nicholas' thoughts. Noah was MIA, which meant that their chain of command, as loose of a term as it was, fell to him. Despite him being the only human of the Circle, the others listened to him. “Keep an eye out for now. I'll feel out the forest for anything,” he said, pressing his cigarette butt into the ashtray. "And drag Noah down the mountain by his antlers if you have to. We have to have a talk."

He could see Nicki's apprehensiveness towards confronting the Watcher of the Woods. If the two came to blows, Noah would obviously win. Nicholas has watched them wrestle with each other before. But Nick silently began stuffing the leftovers into his mouth, walking out into the front yard before transforming into the Grim. With a look back towards Nicholas, he bounded into the woods. 

Nicholas gave him a moment before standing up, stretching his tired limbs. He still felt wide awake, but he would go back to bed in only a moment. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, extending his mind through the roots in the ground. 

He had done this twenty-four hours ago, when he had been woken up suddenly. He hadn't felt anything then, and he wasn't feeling anything now–

He stopped suddenly, and turned towards the door. He quickly opened it, and with a soft yelp, Taylor tumbled forward onto the porch.

"You should be sleeping,” Nicholas scolded softly. "You have work tomorrow." 

“I know,” they said quietly. They pushed themself back onto their knees and looked up at him. If it was any other scenario, he might've thought it was hot. “But I heard you talking, and maybe Nick might've heard something about–”

“Come on, forget about him.” Nicholas held out his hands, and Taylor took them so he could pull them up onto their feet. “Let's go back to bed, yeah?” 

Taylor puffed out their cheeks, which he knew was their way of showing frustration, so he kissed their forehead and each cheek until they sighed and turned around, leading them back to the bedroom.

As Taylor once again settled against Nicholas' chest, he made up his mind. Either Noah had to come down from his mountain, or he’d go up there himself. Either way, they were going to have to have a talk.

And either way, it was going to be about Taylor.

tysm for reading! If you enjoyed this, please reblog to share the word of the Revered Father. Next chapter coming soon.

Featured Creatures

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[rueclfer]

wait wait wait I saw a tiktok of this bouncer putting a guy in air jail essentially and that is soooo bouncer aizawa to me. u get a little rowdy and he just. lifts u onto his shoulder and walks u outside.

he sighs when he sees u at the door and stares at u until u promise to be good this time!! to which he just makes a condescending little Uh-Huh.

okay this one doesn't really make sense but when I was at the club, a few drinks in a vision of those like "if you're hot, they're hot" pet posts came to me and suddenly I HAD to bring my favorite bouncer water bc when I explained my reasoning to him he laughed in my face and told me I was dumb but he drank the water bc I almost cried (I couldn't stop imagining him shriveling up like a raisin from dehydration)

-> two delusional tumblrinas looking at each other going "wwwwaaaaaaiiiiitttttttt" (us)

y/n damn near getting into a barfight with a random ass man and aizawa being like "yes i know i know but i can't let u kill a man tonight" as he drags u out in air jail while ur flailing around and he's smirking down at u bc ur pouttyyyy n is like "well im not the problem he is :-((((((( " GAAWWWDDDDDDDDDDDD AND THE "UH-HUH" WOULD KILL MEEEEEE

wait i understand the "if you're hot, they're hot" thing 100% LMAOOOO take care of ur local bouncer puppy <3 n yes when you're drunk it IS that serious i get u

[lightgamble]

DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN | 1.09

You couldn't call me?

[unproduciblesmackdown]

payoff of being embedded in a unit of authoritarianism since birth is sure then being able to go like "wow this is just like dynamics & phenomena i experienced up close & personal, repeatedly, in many contexts & configurations in my first two decades of life" plus also beyond that in abuse culture world & the noncoincidence that even interactions beyond the confines of the home(tm) reinforced / did not contradict the hierarchy & concomitant abuse within....but then like hey yeah also the Larger Units of hierarchy & abuse / authoritarianism (ft. their logics & practices necessary for continuously & continually shoring up that hierarchy) can also make it like hey yeah the Two Parent abusive nuclear family more like the Two Party [the US is also a one party state but in typical american extravagance they have two] where right wingness is defined by the degree of directly embracing white supremacy & "left wing" is "anything else" hence like wow The Left is always infighting (everyone with any ideas besides "umm christofascist white ethnostate?" so like yeah there are many other ideas) vs The Right's admirable cohesion (simply re: the white supremacy idea which also necessarily embraces all other Out Group / Nonperson paradigms & practices b/c that's what all already has been necessary for shoring up the [when has the US been a nongenocidal non white supremacist non oligarchy])

like obviously individual experiences & contexts vary but like narrowing in on [the Family as immediate relations ideally cordoned off into nuclear households] ft. [Parental Authority the top priority of which is preserving that authority, ideally patriarchal, an abusive mother e.g.? hey, that ought to be the father] times it's like, think people tend to struggle re: having the "nicer" / "safer" parent who was also shitted on as well but also at the end of the day would always side with the "meaner" "more dangerous" parent, even in whatever terms most sympathetic to the abused parties, with the underlying logic that we're always just going to have to deal with them so some secret strategic mitigation is the best that can be done, perhaps the equivalent of being sent a ":(" after an Onslaught Of Expressed / Enforced Authority(tm) event....the tendency to see the best in any lack of actual intervention / protection on the assumption That Could Never Happen Anyway & forever At Least that the one parent isn't as bad as the other [the Not That Bad / Could've Been Worse infocation, like free bingo square in manifestations of minimization if not outright abuse denial] & all the sympathy for, you know, being human & doing their best(tm) &c which sure might all be true but the abused parties (oft children, more vulnerable than adults, by virtue of being children i.e. considered legal property of some specific adults & theoretical property of any adults in general (the paternal logic in any "protect [xyz]" like maintain one group's supposed ownership / control over [xyz] "for their sake" then? great) & also generally smaller & newer at being alive in this world) but who are liable to not extend that sympathy to themselves (or certainly not be extended that sympathy....when is "they're doing their best / they're only human / they mean well or whatever / they love you, they're family" successfully deployed the Thwart an abusive parent like it is to tell an abused child to not be too resentful of this situation, when is it actually deployed toward the abusive parent at all really. & again in the lack of boundary between the authoritarianism within many individual family households & that of the state they exist in (here re: the US) like that naturally one encounters the logic of abuse expressed just as "common knowledge" & the Assumptions of other people, e.g. the rejection of a parent having zero access to a child, the reinforcement of automatic apologia deployed for whatever a parent could possibly do, argued for "family", yet not deployed the same way to automatically defend anything thee child(tm) could do, thinking emoji lol....see: like the non boundary between [the Patriarchal home/family(tm)] & capitalism when uh oh capitalism the system of continuously maximizing exploitation Needs various forms of labor to be unpaid, uh oh another lack of boundary when white supremacy is used to also shore up the patriarchy that shores up the white supremacy, e.g. that even if in some "inferior" class it's treated as More Important that at least you're not that And black, the theoretical ideal/normal white man is a person while a white woman is a woman while a black woman is black, white women could have any legal property via chattel slavery which needed white women's participation to help enforce, the specter of sexual violence all coming from nonwhite & especially black men & it's up to the genteel white man to Protect Women (see prev, implicitly white or you'd have to specify otherwise)

anyway that is to get around to pointing to the Two Parent System wherein so shockingly the results are the same as the One Parent System re: abuse maintaining The Family (properly, i.e. unquestionable & certainly undeniable parental access to children, & "ideally" ofc again the patriarchal Father as ultimate authority w/ownership over the Mother, who in turn is theoretically honored for that motherhood (at least you own your children, insofar as it doesn't contradict w/what the father wants to do with his superior claim to ownership) & then finally all the obviously shittiness from being in that position in a patriarchy is in turn dumped on The Children who are ungrateful & owe the mother everything Because of what the broader society & immediate personal expressions of that abuse have done to her. see also ofc that two adults likely don't have the resources to raise a child in time or money or energy, maybe there's only one but also even an extended family's worth of adults aren't enough, is it enough when a child is sent to school for some other adults to be in charge most of the day, or even if someone is hired to look after them beyond that, all this ofc with the assumed premise that a child is always limited to the various Domains of The Adults In Charge, & from there i segue into how naturally being in gay baby jail unless & until adults are no longer recognized as Legally In Charge Of You (the grand like 5 minutes it's relatively been since the ideal timeline of a woman's life wasn't being legal property of her father until asap passed along to legal property of her husband. still considered ideal ofc but like with "maybe you can have a bank account" now & "maybe you can become 29 before you're in Old Maid danger" Maybe, i said, Maybe....anyway that obviously adults(tm) being divided up (atomised. spritz) into Households isn't even supposed to be enough to live on their own, re: necessitating Marriage, much less uh oh having kids who are stuck with their parents who are stuck with them, but then all the obvious actual problems & abuses inflicted on Adults to have to have their family households & exploited jobs are dumped on the children who Must appreciate & be loyal to the parents (i.e. never Deny Access) while yknow kids have Fake Problems they're whining about, the one Real Problem of having to pay a bill gets the payoff of leverage to tell your children to shut the fuck up or perhaps the more vulnerable spouse

hm didn't segue right into "so shoutout to like The Ratchet Effect diagrams lol, the "Two" Party System where its supposed left wing Blocks Movement To The Left, right wing Moves Everything To The Right" but even that is like, mm, conferring a passivity to what democrats do in the continual movement to the right (won an election? lost an election? the lesson either way is The Right Is Right; exact same logic as in "winning or losing" "the war on crime" like the collection & analysis of whatever statistics show the trend of some "crime" is increasing in frequency or magnitude? show that it's decreasing? the lesson either way is Cops Need More Power) like the institutional effort of democrats to push a candidate nobody wants through primaries (did we even do that this time around. oh great that the assumed candidate even graciously agreed to not force themself as The Candidate, & now like 5 min left with the Next In Line candidate dumped on everyone now with the lesson for the left(tm) to shut up already lol) & then it's up to Grassroots Voters. it's up to Unity & well we all Need to listen to the white supremacists, points were made, in the "elections" with voting as limited as possible & with the electoral college & supreme court as Safeguards against democracy & here's the senate, eternally thus, & again the conclusions will always manage to be moving To The Right, paraphrasing from twitter like democrats are about to be or already at the point of "in the name of unity we will no longer be running against republicans; it's too divisive :(" which yknow is already The Statements of all of yesterday from various like "i'm the republican official white supremacy agree-er now" after also the entire campaign of "no, I'm the fascist" where like wow shocking that the appeal to the fascists didn't win a) the fascists who will ofc want the even more overt fascism, why wouldn't they or b) the people who want antifascism actually, and do not want fascism; who could have foreseen? & it's always the fault of being Too Antifascist for the actions of the fascists or the Diplomatic Comprimises the other party makes with the fascists &/or their Failure to thwart them....the Nicer, Safer party in power is surely doing their best & at least they're not the Meaner, More Dangerous one but at the end of the day they'll always side with that party over america(tm) & those bearing the brunt of the actions of State Power can be told to keep their chin up or else to stop acting out b/c how do you expect that state power to respond, cmon, you bring it upon yourself, & you Have to work with them & understand all their feelings & your role in resolving those feelings by being lesser inferior property, you do Have to understand, b/c in the end this is All About Family, surely Good & Necessary, whoops i mean in the end this is All About America

anyway yeah i'm like damn my "nicer" (also shitty) father who was also the even more sexist & racist (& certainly no Less ableist, queerphobic) parent was basically the democratic party of the Two Parent System of Family Government lol. b/c we Need to perpetuate this Family, no other logics much less actions are acceptable....& people struggling with the Parent / Adults in their life like that who were the "safe" & "protective" ones who markedly failed to protect & minimized the harm afterwards but also in general, never to confront the reality of the situation, or do damage control like "aw some points were made at all :( ah i see you have Feelings about this :( hmm yes the Parental Power is gonna have to make some changes" & then as soon as possible (assuming reeling in the party who was deviating too much) these changes(tm) are already compromised or diminished if done at all, & then oops things incrementally might be right back to how they always were, no guarantees it won't be Worse b/c the Power is even more insecure / aware of weaknesses, & the only way this is thwarted is if the Wayward Parties can actually leverage new boundaries / less vulnerability, not b/c the supposedly sympathetic parties, who never came through where it counts & likely would also become overt antagonizers / wielders of whatever power within the Family hierarchy / turn on the more vulnerable parties to Get Them In Line, actually came through. movement Away (more disruptive to the maintenance of The Family, The State) is blocked, incrementally only ever moving everything back, & then Further....& despite this being what the power structures are, & do, the Disruptive parties liable to be scapegoated lol, can't believe the scapegoat child is ruining everything for everyone, this Family would totally improve & start being everything it could be otherwise & we ignore who actually has the power & is actually enforcing the hierarchy harming everyone to point to that scapegoat; can't believe thee left is destroying america (republican voice) can't believe the left is destroying america (democrat voice) So You See? The Undeniable Consensus. just like how i believe it was my fault my family unit was Like That & i had those experiences, according to the vast majority of Input from that family & even others who, knowing nothing, would say how Lucky i was to be relatively close to home, or just of course that oh well parents love their children & mean well & try their best. just like how i believe that being treated like i've been generally as a neurononconforming person, i.e. hated & the interpersonal abuse & bullying & ostracization & [attention possibilities: ignored, responded to but negatively, interacted with to get something from] & actually rewarding interactions or just actions being liable to get Deluxe authority responses as disruptive(tm) & ofc disobedient(tm) like hell fuckin yeah lol. just as i don't think that other people who have similar experiences or ones i don't have, i.e. assessed race being automatically seen as wrong / inferior, being isolated & undermined from all around? well gotta be their fault then, cmon lol....Abuse is actually normative, not extraordinary, in every Arena of interactions, & so are the logics / apologia / assumptions

anyway lol re: like yeah people struggling with the like betrayal of the "nooo i'm on your side, i sympathize, i'm the one who's nicer & you Need so that things aren't even worse" party, not even One Big Novel betrayal, but rather that that's what's Been done the whole time & doesn't stop. that supposedly if you have Any sympathy for that party you have to be like aw :( keep doing your thing (necessarily reining everyone in) or if you have Any sympathy for the people who also want things to improve but blame & take it out on the more disruptive parties (more disruptive to an abusive family e.g., btw. & not like i see Cohesion as necessarily some Good rather than neutral? when i'm autistic / my existence is supposedly antithetical to this? or when i'm able to look at a zillion hypothetical or actual situations & recognize how "cohesion" isn't the best goal / a destructive one / a vague concept anyways like cohesion Between Whom? on what basis? recognized & pursued how? why? up next: same as vague shit like "family" or "community" &c) then it's like yep gotta be Responsible for their feelings too if you're at all sympathetic & capitulate, The Only Possible Action, vs the idea of those in power actually making things shit stopping, much less being stopped / having to stop in the various ways that can happen....one way being "oh no, adult children who choose to be no-contact with parents" which is seen as A Tragedy, & sign of a Deteriorating Society, take me back. ah jeez oh no, look at the divorce raaates....Oh No, twentysomething women aren't pursuing marriage enoughhhh....again the undetectably identical echo when people peak vaguely talk about "conflicts" that thwart "community" or whatever, ugh nobody will date anymore, commit anymore, be friends anymore, hang out as coworkers anymore, talk to me if i want to talk to them anymore, &ccccc....

the real tl;dr is like wait ""two party"" (one party) US electoral system, just like ""two parent"" maintenance of thee family lol. ratchet effect raise your hand if you've only ever experienced Movement Away from the abusive family blocked, forever incrementally ratcheted back in to the desires & pursuits of those most in power / top of the hierarchy / thus of course most invested in the abuse, that's what the power & hierarchy is made of, sustained by, perpetuates....sorry doing our best :( sorry that's just all that's realistic, no other choice Really. cmon. kind of Your Fault if you don't agree to that & whoops now Everything is the fault of whoever doesn't agree & cooperate enough :( now look what you've done & brought upon yourself :( & we'll just forget the eruption of violence suppression happened & will happen again & be the overhanging threat all in the meantime

[transmasc-tabris]

.

[syluses]

𝄞 bloodhound

𓍯𓂃 hybrid sylus x female reader

(10k wc) ✦ summary: demanding, old, hostile— just a few of the warnings the man at the local shelter gave you before opening its cage. but it doesn’t matter. so long as he can protect you, all else can be forgiven. yet he’s more wolf than dog. more… man than wolf.

✦ content hybrid! sylus, nsfw/smut, hints of violence (not between mc/sylus), tension, kind of enemies to lovers-? he warms up to mc, knotting & adjusting to it, feral behavior, cunnilingus, slight somnophilia (not detailed), hinted age gap (all parties are 18+), possessive behavior, size difference,

✦ sidenote as by popular demand we have the latest installment of the lads hybrid collection 🙂‍↕️ i apologize in advance bc even as a wolf-man creature i made sylus older, because yall already know i love me a good ol’ fashioned dilf. dont ask me what bro is in dog years just know he’s scruffy! anyways do enjoy this lil thing while u wait for the caleb fic which i am busting my ass for :] 💕 ALSO sorry. he’s not feline this time… >_< this is def not my fav piece but i hope some of the girlies will like this one :] i did work hard on it it’s quite long. i gave it plot but tbh the smut is straight up filthy 😖 ig all we have left to do is hybrid rafayel! but that boy’s gonna have to wait lol :,) i do hav an idea for him tho ;D

With every step, it feels as if the walls of your apartment are closing in on you.

By your feet, at the front door you hardly have the coordination to close- blundering with the lock- lay a bouquet. Scattered. Flowers strew themselves across your hall as you kick the clasped bunch with the tip of your heel and glide from room to room, warily ducking into each one with your hand braced in front of your body, ready to beat and thrash and fight for your life.

In your other hand- a note. Crumpled, now. Shaking between your fingers.

You don’t think he’s gotten inside again- it seems the new home security measures you installed have thrown a wrench in his plans- for the moment, at least (although your spare key is still missing)- but you’re not wholly convinced you’re safe, either.

And to be clear, it’s better to be that than sorry: You’ll check each and every cranny of your little flat if it means reclaiming your peace of mind.

Your life is a different story though, as of late; threatened yet not something quite as simple to take back. Living with bated breath is no way to exist- neither with the perpetual looks thrown over your shoulder on the short trek back from the bus, the seemingly harmless creaks at night hurling you whole feet from your bed.

Because of that fear, you can hardly even bear to look down at the tiny paper in your hand to read it.

I loved that outfit on you yesterday babe. Can you blame me for taking a little from your wardrobe? ♡

Strangely, though, your drawer is just as you left it when you slide it from its framework almost fast enough to pop its screws, fearing the worst.

Clothes- your tee shirts, blouses for work and lacy bras, pencil skirts- fling across your bed, yet nothing is… amiss.

That outfit from yesterday.

With a gasp, you twist around to look at your hamper, and-

Sure enough, the lid is open.

✦

“-get a few new ones a week. Gets hard to keep up with ‘em all. All the personalities and quirks- a lot of them won’t even eat their kibble unless you look the other way.”

The cold brick walls and all the sounds bouncing off them (grunts, woofs, and nails against tile) become humdrum as the worker, waving a hand as he talks- rants, really- leads you through the pound.

The fluorescence lighting the place flares, whirs overhead. Everything about the setting is harsh. Obviously, you’re in no danger- but as you trail alongside him, you feel a sense of foreboding in your gut all the same. Like you’re walking into a dungeon.

The colorless walls swallowing up most of your vision make that silly threat seem an ounce realer.

You swallow, head on a swivel- yet not for fear, but sympathy as you pass an assortment of fenced-off pets. Some track you with a snarl. Some with eyes that plead. Still, they all share the undeniable tinge of distrust.

What an awful place, you think to yourself.

…But coming here had a purpose.

Your heels clip against the scratched floor and echo in rounds, a certain emptiness existing around you that seems misaligned with all the noise and sights.

Dogs in their cages— some upfront, teething at the metal, others: cowed to their corners, lying on thin blankets not quite as worse for wear.

To sum it up- creatures sapped of will. Defeated in life.

A distinct sorrow weighs in your chest, even as the employee happily drones on, a half-eaten tuna sandwich in one hand (the other: gesturing emphatically), hardly paying you any attention. To be fair, you’re giving him very little as well.

“-I mean, some don’t even eat at all. Picky things.”

Picky? You question quietly. Or without hunger? Their appetite for cheap, bagged kibble robbed right along with their appetite for life.

Your nails dent into your palm as you clench it.

It’s hard to get a word in edgewise as the man chatters away, but you manage to pile down your need to be polite for long enough to get in a:

Hey, excuse me, I asked what kind of dog you’d recommend for prot—

Clack, clack… Clack.

You come to a pause, dead-center in the walkway. The dull rhythm of his shoes remains where yours doesn’t.

“Heh. We got one a couple of months back who thinks this place is his own damn gourmet restaur-“

When he notices you’re not arm-to-arm, he, too, stops.

“Ma’am?” He turns.

“That one,” you breathe, just vaguely registering as the worker sidles up to you and glances at the cage you approach. The glint in your eye wins his interest.

For once since you entered the building, he shuts his mouth.

When he looks at ‘that one’ in question— a silver shock of fur, immersed in a shadow against the far wall— his eyes almost bulge from his skull.

A sharp laugh.

“Ah, little lady. Don’t wanna bite off more than you can chew, now. See-“

As he falls back into drivel (albeit, you lend an ear, curious now), you eye the pooch.

He looks a little wilder than the rest, a little more weathered, tucked to the corner of his cage but not quite ‘cowering’- no, he’s a touch too big and threatening for it to seem that way. More like… brooding.

…Yet you wonder all the same if that’s what he feels, too. Scared like most if not all of the others.

Your chest stirs again with that wisp of sadness.

If you could, you’d clip their collars to a leash and walk them all home, cramming them into your apartment with no thought and all heart. For reasons- countless reasons (having to do with your tiny home and even tinier wallet)- that’s not possible.

In a place as cold and unfortunate as this, he’d have every reason to be frightened, you think, but when your eyes soften with pity at him, his own narrow.

Thoughtfully, you blink.

As the worker rattles off his minor crimes around the playpen- and the hole he eats through their budget, what with his size- you can’t help but marvel at him.

Concerningly massive. With thick, silvery fur matted in certain areas, patchy with scars in others, and eyes that glow an unnatural shade of red- you can wholeheartedly say you’ve never seen the breed before. Less dog-like and more wolfish.

It warrants a raise of the brow, just what he’s doing here. Did he have an owner before? Was he abandoned by them? Or… was he just pulled from the street?

And if so, how many elephant-sized tranquilizer darts did it take to haul him here?

“So,” he says, stuffing his hand in his pockets, “Honestly, Ma’am, he’s probably not what you’re lookin’ for.” Giving your clacking heels and airy sundress a once-over, he sighs.

“We do have a Samoyed though- he was brought in just yesterday. Super playful. Great personality. Domesticated. He definitely won’t be here for long. Uh… this one here, though,” he snickers. “He’s unpredictable at the best of times. Growls when ya feed him- then growls some more ‘cause he’s still hungry... tsk,” he glances down at his hand, then. Evidently, there’s no mark there, but you think he’s imagining one that could’ve been.

“He’s on the older side, too. Can’t teach him any new tricks. And… big, as you can see. With his temperament, he’d probably tear a hole in your apartment. You, uh, you got an apartment, you said-?”

Right now, you should be thankful for all his advice- at the very least, relieved his chatter has become more meaningful, relaying all the pooch’s unruly habits. Yet you tune it all out, slightly cocking your head at the beast dog- a movement that, if you’re not imagining things, his scruffy one mirrors.

“He’s…”

“Yep. Like I said-“

“Perfect,” you breathe, falling to a crouch.

The man beside you coughs on his own spit. “What-? Uh, little lady, I seriously don’t think— hey, watch the hands! Don’t stick ‘em through!”

“-How much?”

You manage to pry your gaze from the ominous thing tucked a number of feet into his prison, cloaked and out of the light, to look up at the man. For all of the warnings and, really, defamation made against the animal— to his defense, he doesn’t lunge. Bark. Claw at the bars or slip his snout through to bite the harmless hand you extend in the space there.

No. With a lift of his whiskers, he watches.

Tuna-sandwich blinks. Eyes widening to twice their original size before he scrubs the lower half of his face.

Eventually, he shrugs. Takes a moment to process it.

As he does, you await the price with a hand already dipping inside your purse. I mean, you hope not to spend a small fortune during this outing- but it’s also an investment worth your while. There’s no saying when your stalker will show his face again. If tomorrow he’ll be waiting under your bed or in your closet for your return- hell, right now, the hackles on your neck are raised as if he could be lurking still.

A word relieves you of worries for naught.

“Nothing.”

…Wait- No, that can’t be right. Nothing? The- your future good boy is worth nothing?

“E-Excuse me?”

He sighs, exasperated. “You’d be doing us a favor,” is all he gives as an explanation. “You can have him for free.”

Dumbfounded, snapping your head back to the cage, you’re met with two crimson eyes that look almost hellish as they catch in the shifting fluorescence- and a pass of surprise on its face that appears almost… human.

“But, are you-“

“Haaaaah. Maybe it’s for the better. You’re like his savior, you know,” he comments, sparing a rather indifferent glance to the animal, “he oughta be thankful for you coming in here.”

And there, fucking again- like a blade wedged between your ribs and twisting—

“Too much longer and we would’a had to put him down.”

A squeeze of your heart.

Jaw fluttering shut, that morsel of information wipes the entirety of your hesitance out. Belatedly, you nod, perching your bag above your hip once more, a sense of determination smoothing out your features.

“When can we get him out of this cage?”

You ask without looking his way.

The sound of keys jingling on a ring has the silver-furred creature perking his left ear ever so slightly- a movement you track with curiosity as the beast’s chest swells in. It’s like he understands. Maybe he does. Maybe he’s seen countless people just like you filter in and out, pass him by, and ultimately land on a different pet to jailbreak take home.

“I can get you sorted right now,” he quips, helpful, “Just… You might wanna back up.”

Weirdly enough- and despite knowing you really should be cautious with a veritable beast from the local shelter, scarred to no end and skulking- all the tiptoeing around him is endearing in its own right.

He’s a good boy, you’re sure of it. Misunderstood, probably, like the rest of the poor, trembling things here— just in need of a nice, loving home and maybe a scritch or two behind the ear. And you’re positive, if nothing else, he’ll do plenty a good job at keeping your stalker at bay.

It takes a handful of minutes to loop the rope (not leash: rope) around his neck- yet the worker treats it as a pleasant surprise, muttering something about how he’s just a whit more cooperative today.

“Thank you,” you chime a bit breathlessly. Sure, your main goal in coming here was to find a suitable guard dog, but you can’t deny the excitement that flutters within as the gate closes to a now-empty cage, your new pet springing free.

Anticipation thrums in your chest as you eagerly accept the rope from him- “careful,” a snigger- and—

The ground beneath you all but gives way.

“Oh, sir- one more thing! What’s his name!”

He stops for a moment to turn halfway over his shoulder. Long, overgrown nails skittering across the floor as the leash tugs harshly and you’re rapidly propelled out the front door, into sunlight.

However, you do catch him shrugging.

“No clue.”

✦

A number of days pass. Those days drag by with an eagerness to get to know each other that seems only one-sided- and a caution on his end that borders uncanniness.

You buy him a fluffy dog bed (the biggest you could find; he’s bigger still). Quality food, not the rubbish they fed him at the pound. And you give him your patience; small, gentle smiles that you’re not entirely sure an animal can understand— but when you offer out your hand for him to smell, a sign that you mean no harm, he growls and retreats to his corner. He chooses one part of your tiny apartment to hunker down in and outright glares when you get too close.

This is your house.

This… was your house. Maybe you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. As a week moves on, you concede to your bedroom or the sofa and watch him with resignation as he watches you back- and contemplate if you made the right choice.

Does he seriously hate you that bad? How can you make him understand that you don’t harbor any bad intentions for him-? I mean, aren’t animals supposed to have that preternatural kind of instinct anyway? to spot malice?

What is he spotting in you?

Curled up on the couch, you hang your hand off the arm and release the new brush you’d bought days ago. It’s seeming more and more like a useless purchase, yet after countless attempts to bathe and brush him- all for naught- it’s only now starting to settle.

Work was long. That one coworker was grating on your nerves more than usual and you could’ve sworn you heard a second pair of footfalls trailing yours after the bus back- but you can only look over your shoulder so many times without attracting the attention of people who start to wonder if you’re batshit crazy.

But you're not crazy. That- That psychopath is, and his countless notes and uninvited visits to your apartment while you’re gone are all proofs of that.

But that’s changed, now. If your dog hates you, he’ll hate an intruder even more.

You sigh, holding your head in your hands as you lean forward. Like a flower wilted, folded in on itself, too heavy with its withering to support its own weight. You rub your temples when you grudgingly glance up to the wolf-sized beast sulking in the corner.

He stares, of course; buttery light twinkling in imposing, ruby eyes in a way that almost makes him seem tame. Mellow.

Not quite.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to dislike him, or regret taking him off the pound’s hands— for all his stubbornness, the hostility he barely conceals, you know all too well that fear manifests itself in strange ways. Like when you almost snarled at your deskmate today for leaning over your shoulder again to review your work- the proximity too startling to handle. You’re irate. On alert. Scared. And it’s making you do unreasonable things as a way to calcify your soft skin into a protective shell. You start to think that you must be hard: the climate calls for it.

The mutt that broods behind your armchair is the picture of ominous- big and bad and threatening long before his lip even curls in warning. Everything about him screams see, look at my scars- my sharp teeth and nails. Don’t touch me. Don’t hurt me.

Your heart stirs.

Tiredly, you offer a small smile. “You are perfect, you know,” folding your leg over the other as you pat the open space of the couch beside you. It can fit four to six people if they cram together, but you know he’d take up the three cushions beside you if he sprawled out entirely.

He regards you with a microscopic flick of his ears. “Even if you don’t like me, that doesn’t change what I think about you. If you just let me give you a bath… I’ll let you sit on the couch, deal? I’m sure it’ll be comfier than what you got now,” you offer, gesturing harmlessly to the dog bed that lays unused by the table— for this reason or that, perhaps just as a way to show you he’s completely rejecting you, he’s avoided it.

Yes, he’s just a tatterdamelion, forgotten animal, operating out of instinct and whatever feels right.

Yes, you still had to mask your hurt over it.

You sigh. “I mean, I haven’t even thought of a name for you yet. And I’m sorry, I just…” Trailing off, you give your head a small shake and stand to your feet. In your mind, with no small amount of discontent, you realize you’ve reached a watershed here— one that separates your old, normal life from a sense of great uncertainty that rests on the horizon.

And you’re terribly concerned. And tired. But God forbid you start venting to a dog about it.

“Nevermind. Goodnight, boy,” you wave your doubts off dismissively, deliberately leaving the lamplight on lest he get scared in the dark. Sometimes, you think you see eyes staring back in it, too, so you put no judgement on him.

Pattering with heavy, sock-clad feet down the hall, “Sleep tight. Just tell me if you hear anything at the door-“

A labored sigh.

Nails clacking behind you— and for one awful second you fear the worst: You’ve turned your back to a beast.

Your breath hitches with the realization, yet as you swiftly spin around- half prepared to bolt or at the very least shield your head with your vulnerable, just as fleshy arms- you’re mistaken.

There, he stands, as a massive silhouette against the living room light angling into the narrow, dim hall. He’s like a bull in a china shop- monstrous, sharp claws etching lines into the lacquer of the maple wood floor, his tail sending fur gusting behind him as it falls. You become clear of two things, then:

One) you must sweep, and soon. And two)

He’s tilting his head- in an uncannily shrewd way- towards the ajar bathroom door beside you, and as he noses it open and stares at you, it’s with expectance.

Oh, and then three—

When you don’t respond right away, he steps around you and impatiently nudges you in- headstrong as ever- through the bathroom door with a throaty huff.

✦

He smells of strawberry shortcake. Vastly sweeter than what he really is, you think with a wry but endeared smile, when you extend a slow, ever-cautious hand to pet.

To your surprise, he lets you.

Call it a truce between you both. A comfier place for him to crash at for a little more peace of mind on your end.

With all the dirt and dried muck lathered out from his coat (it took an hour or so, and patience- as he flung water and stubbornly tried to readjust in the small tub- lots of it), you’re given the chance to finally see the beauty of his breed.

Chalky white fur, soft as the cashmere sweater stowed in your closet on standby for the chilly autumn weeks ahead. His hair is long, perhaps overdue for a trim- not that you’re deluded enough to believe he’d allow a groomer anywhere near him- and easily covers most of the scarring underneath.

Convincing him it was safe to let you clip his nails was an even harder task than getting him in the bath- but he… cooperated. In a looser sense of the word.

None of your limbs are missing. That’s a small miracle in itself. You’re thankful for the little breakthroughs with your new pet, even if it feels like you’re walking uphill all the while.

He hops up on the sofa beside you. True to your word, you allow it, the springs dipping beneath you both as he settles.

If the couch fell through the floor and onto the one below in a mist of crumbled drywall, you’d have no right to be surprised. None at all.

Trying not to show a fraction of your joy as he sets his head on your lap lest that deter him, you bite back a grin and rest a hand on his back. You avoid needless contact with his head- you get the feeling that’s a iffier place for him. You’d respect it, of course. Your show of patience has been nothing less than outstanding in the past week. Now that you’re finally making headway with him (and yes— his letting you bathe and sit with him is headway), you’re encouraged.

Besides…

Unpredictable. The forbidding advice of the shelter employee rings in your head.

Ahem.

It’s late.

Tomorrow, you’ve another long day of work and second-guessing your surroundings and the people in them. Whether or not you’ll be attacked in your own home by your persistent ex-boyfriend who couldn’t stop meddling with your life even if it meant saving his own.

The doubt, momentarily, is pushed to the back burner.

You smooth your hands through his velvety fur. A strange layer of peace drapes itself over you, warming your chest like a fleece as his back rises and falls, your quiet breaths punctuating his own heaving ones.

“You’re a good boy, you know,” you murmur contentedly as you lay your head back and drift off. A crimson set of eyes regards you carefully, peering up through fine, snowy lashes.

From the barrel of his chest, he lets out a deep rumble like he understands. You know he doesn’t.

Half awake, you weave your fingers along him, “You are. You are a good boy,” as if it’s come as an epiphany to you- made realer as it’s spoken.

Before you let sleep take you entirely, you murmur with a ghost of a grin, teasing despite knowing it’s ridiculous because your words aren’t coherent to him- just a swooning, soft sound to bitten ears—

“Hey… I could tell you didn’t really like Cookie, or Sweetie, or Dragonfruit, but… what about…”

A moment passes. Barely, you register his snout lifting from your thigh.

“Sylus.”

Before dozing off, you’re fairly certain- for his sake- you’d left the lamp on that night.

…But when you wake the next morning to your alarm blaring in the room over, all that lights the living space is the sun streaming through the blinds.

✦

You blink and autumn is in full throttle.

You blink and you’re trading your thin sleep shorts out for pajama pants and slippers- layering your work blouses with wooly cardigans.

Days leap over one another like cards of a rolodex— yours, on your cubicle desk: filled with doodles of the unruly pooch waiting at home for you. Idling over him is all that you can do to ease your mind as anxiety gnaws through.

You worry for him when he’s home alone. Not because you heed the warnings you were once given- ‘he’ll tear a hole in your walls’- but because you care for him, and with that brings the inexplicable want to see him as soon as possible.

Of course, he can’t speak, but he shows in his own way that he misses you too when you’re gone.

Once your shift ends, you do as you did the day before. You quickly take the jacket off your wheely chair and gather your things, waving to the select few coworkers who don’t make you want to rip your hair from the root.

Perhaps if you’re quick enough, you’ll even make it off the bus, to your complex, before the sun sets. You appreciate fall for its colors. Not for the darkness it brings far too early to be comfortable with.

Every alley appears with teeth, in those eerily quiet moments when you make the short trek back home. Cars purr beside you on the congested roads, and despite cursing traffic on the ride to your stop, you’re grateful for it now.

At least more people are out; potential buffers to stave off your crazy ex from putting his hands on you…

Potential witnesses if he does.

Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit. Every evening you can’t help but wish you could just- take Sylus with you to work. But for so many reasons that’s just not possible.

Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you breathe out a fine mist and pick up the pace.

You can’t escape dusk from falling- but you can take advantage of the early moments of it right before night comes swinging.

You nervously glance up to the sky, a fiery swatch of orange sat under starry blue, and tell yourself it’s fine.

…It’s fine- and yet you swear on all things holy you can hear boots pacing behind yours—

A gasp. You turn around and get ready to rip your pepper pray from the scabbard that is your pocket- for naught. Emptiness greets you. Sneering and quiet. In the distance, deeper into the city, a car honks. Where you are now though, you’re more or less alone.

You wet your lip where it’s dented from biting. You turn around, and press back on.

It’s okay. You’re almost home. Just a bit further. Within ten minutes you’ll be crooning to your ‘puppy’ and itching behind his ear while he rigidly thumps his tail, closing his eyes indifferently as if he wasn’t hurrying to the door as soon as he heard the lock.

Yes, that’s right. In ten minutes- on the dot (you know because you’re toying with your watch to calm yourself)- you’ll be slipping off your jacket and refilling his water bowl, tossing him scraps as you prepare a nice steak dinner in celebration of your weekend commencing. The fancy wine you’ll pair with it is to help wash it all down and pretend you’re financially better off than you are. Not to help your nerves.

…Even Sylus, the creature who doesn’t understand you even if sometimes it seems he unexplainably does, would be hard-pressed to believe such a feeble lie.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Your heels. A dull, monotonous rhythm against pavement, one you relish now because it fills the crisp, silent air.

Then-

Tap tap tap.

Your heels- “Hey baby, wait up- where ya going?”- with the sound of another and the bone-chilling revelation that every suspicion you had was grounded—

You don’t even turn around. You don’t reason with, stick up the bird to, or even hastily shout a fuck off, creep, over your shoulder because you’re not sure you have the luxury to.

By the sounds of it, he’s already close.

“Oh no you don’t. Come on, baby, just let me fuckin’ talk to you!”

-Closer and gaining still.

Fear rattles through you. It goes from zero to one hundred in a breath- yet how to breathe becomes a distant memory as your lungs still. The pulse in your throat drums, and suddenly your cardigan isn’t enough to save you from the ice eating you from the inside out- a cold sweat already forming at your nape.

You’re in such a panic you even forget about the spray in your pocket- the assortment of makeshift blades (keys, pens that grow knives when you click them) tucked in your purse. You have a small arsenal in there. Yet your mind spins.

“Stop-! I haven’t even been able to visit you lately because of that fucking asshole- since when you’d get a new boyfriend, baby? Do you really not care about me anymore? I just wanna talk!”

No. No no no- and new boyfriend? What-? All thought is dashed from your brain, his hollers becoming static. No, just ignore him, it doesn’t matter what nonsense he spouts to try and get you back- you won’t so much as glance behind you. After all he’s done to hurt and twist and outright disgrace you and your home, you don’t think he deserves it.

You break into a sprint. The concrete path pushes beneath you. You feel like you’re running in a dream, you’re so terrified- but you do run. You run like hell. You run like a girl.

You fiddle for the key in your purse, shaking as the door opens and you slam it behind you. His hand almost gets stuck in it, the knob jiggling loudly just a millisecond after you lock it.

As the reality of what could’ve been settles, you’re horrified. Cold in the face.

Sylus is there, leaping over to reach you. You wonder if the fury you catch in his wide ruby eyes is your imagination or reality; if he has the inexplicable knowing- based on your frazzled state or the noise- that something is terribly wrong.

“Sylus-“

You breathe with relief, but you don’t linger. You skitter past to the kitchen for a weapon- a real, proper one. A snarl rips from his throat as you leave him behind you, shouts sounding in the hallway behind your door. He barks at it. Ferocious and lupine. Surely not the make of a dog, of a pet meant for four walls and a roof— no, it’s a separate beast entirely.

Hostile, unpredictable, growly- dangerous. Oh, you’ve no choice but to hope all the labels on his package are true. That he’ll rip your ex-boyfriend a new one if he finds a way in.

Hyperventilating, limbs like jelly, you stagger over. In the short span of time it takes you to turn out the kitchen and down the corridor, you contemplate either opening the door and saying go boy, go— or simply staying back to ‘defend.’

You turn the corner and blanche.

Someone’s in your house- not the creeping, painfully familiar face, however, no- and he’s naked.

And then, everything you’d been working so hard to build with your froward pet over the months, the foundation of trust and patience, the hard-earned truce made between you both… As red eyes flash at you in warning, a hand taking the shaking knife from your own before he opens the door— it all shifts.

The bottom falls through.

The man opens the door, and perhaps you should be thankful that he takes the squabble outside because you’re sure that the blood spraying from your ex-boyfriend’s nose as it breaks would be impossible to scrub from your walls.

✦

“Relax,” he grouses with a tsk, “I’m not gonna bite.”

With split knuckles, a long leg crossed over the other where he sits on your couch, canines just a little too sharp as they catch in the lamplight- that’s hard to believe.

The blade he’d taken from your hands lies on the cushion beside him, and while you don’t make a grab for it, you think he sees the way you eye it- and the knife block in the kitchen- as you clench your fist to keep yourself from fainting while you gawk.

“Y-You’re not my dog.”

One of his brows lifts with amusement- or challenge, perhaps- as you deny the truth laid out before you. It’s impossible. Of course it’s impossible. He-

That can’t be Sylus.

For a moment you believe he’ll agree. Nod his head and say, no, I’m not your dog- I’m a person; because that’s certainly how he looks. But he doesn’t.

“I simply changed forms,” he explains. “Not who I am to you.”

With nothing else to say- no real rebuttal- you can only flounder. “N-No. You’re not Sylus.”

That pulls a soft huff from him, “Oh, kitten,” he grins a tenuous grin, “I’m wounded. And here I thought your kindness had no takebacks. You gave me that name, didn’t you? Sylus.” He sighs, a heavy, affected sound- like this is no more than a theater play to him as he adjusts on your sofa.

“I guess I’ll just have to settle for something else, then… Is Dragonfruit still up for grabs?”

D-Dragonfruit? How does he…

The way he looks at you then, with a lift of his chin as he angles his brow in provocation, a smirk only touching half his mouth- makes you freeze. The little hairs on your nape rise.

…Yet he’s just as scarred as your pet, with the silver hair and the gemstone eyes— massive, over six foot tall and muscular- and the air about him is… familiar. Too much to be comfortable with.

“Y-You’re not-“

Before you can splutter out another denial, he sighs and drops the bravado. He spares the weapon beside him a dismissive glance, stretching one arm across the back of the couch.

“Look, if you don’t believe me, that’s your choice. I won’t try to convince you,” he states, “I’ll just let my actions speak for themselves in the course of the next few days.”

…What? The next few days? Does he plan to stay? What- no. No no no! This mysterious, albeit helpful stranger (helpful in the way that he shook your persistent ex from your doorstep- through violent means, of course) can’t seriously think you’ll just let him crash at your place after feeding you such a ridiculous lie. He’s not your dog. He’s- he’s not some werewolf that can shapeshift on a whim- those only exist in fairytales and teenage romance novels.

Not in your tiny apartment.

“N-No. You- you’re crazy. You have to leave. You have to! I’ll- I’ll call the cops!”

Not-Sylus seems unfazed. Perhaps even a little offended at your bluffing: the vehemence is there. But the certainty is not.

Sure, the department wasn’t having your stalker drama- but an intrusion you’re actually witnessing like this can’t be easily ignored. If your crappy ex ends up snitching (you doubt it, what with his involvement)- all the more evidence, right?

He all but rolls his eyes, saying like it’s obvious, perhaps even with a mite of amusement, “I’m on your side, kitten. Don’t get all…” he looks you up and down, and you hate the flutter of your heart that’s more than just fearful— it’s self-conscious. “Hissy now.”

You punch out a scoff of disbelief. “You’re some stranger in my house! Look- I appreciate what you did, okay? I really do,” you start. You have to pause in between to take a breath because God knows you mean the words you say- you’re just inwardly afraid that the fix was only quick, not permanent, and with the sudden disappearance of your dog? Good luck protecting yourself now. Fuck, you don’t even know where he went- maybe he booked it out through the door when you were too distracted by the chaos to notice.

But then… why the hell would he leave? He- He’s never done that until now!

You rub your face and stare at him. The fear lends itself to a distant echo the more you realize you’re no longer in immediate danger. The guy is an unwelcome (and flashy, literally) intruder, yes, one your pooch would waste no time in maiming, but he’s not an active threat... You just have to figure out how to get him to leave.

“But my dog is a dog. Not a human. Not… you.” That you even have to say it out loud is ridiculous.

Even if, the longer you stare, the more you begin to believe it.

The scarred skin, the unmistakable, red eyes, and the somewhat bitten ears- his body weathered from what you suspect to be years of tussling in underground fights (evidently: winning them, not without the cost though)…

And that arrogant little air he carries with him, the one that first endeared you so.

Sylus, it all says.

But no. No- this is insane. Months of being stalked and living like a bug under a microscope have made you worse for wear. Impaired your judgment.

He draws you back to the present with his rumbling voice. “Your dog is more than just some animal,” he huffs. “Don’t tell me after all you’ve experienced with the stalker that you’re… frightened of this side of me? Really? Of all things?” His chuckle is as rich as it is short as he shakes his head.

Frightened? No… that becomes a more distant word. You’re more so stunned than anything else right now as the pieces start to fall in alignment with each other.

“Well, how about this,” he offers at your silence, waving his hand. “Let the week pass. By the end of it, you can decide for yourself if I’m real or truly just a figment of your imagination, sweetheart… You…” he lowers his gaze, then. Uncertain, almost.

“You can even decide if you want me to stay.”

He rubs nothing between his fingers, glancing up again with a pointed brow. “Deal?”

And if you say no? If, on the off chance you’re wrong and you kick him right back to the curb- to a sorry life of abandonment and bloody illegal brawls and God knows what else?

Your mouth wavers. “I- I don’t believe it.”

You do believe it. But it’s crazy.

He almost snorts. “You’d better start. But with that pest taken care of now… I think you’ll catch on quite fast,” he grins. “I’m here for you, kitten. Isn’t that what you wanted me for? Protection? Don’t tell me once I serve my use you’ll throw me out?” He laughs. But then he sighs right after, pursing his lips and looking down to his lap where he makes no effort to adjust the thin blanket that covers his nakedness as it nearly slips.

Headstrong. Cocksure. Bored with his surroundings in a way only mature folk really tend to be. The sage advice of that employee flashes in your mind— ‘he’s on the older side, so naturally he’s a bit grumpy, snippy’; really, you shouldn’t gasp at his temperament but with your current situation it’s a little hard not to when he clips out-

“So? Do we have a deal or not?”

And, well, what’s the harm in giving him your couch for one night?

Or several.

✦

A wintry chill pricks up your neck. Along your arms. Down your limbs where they bundle beneath the covers- to the tips of your toes as you respond with a shiver.

It rattles you in tandem with pleasure.

Upon waking, a few things blitz through your mind too fast to catch. For one, you’ve woken before your alarm- meaning you’ll be miserable in the minutes or hours of consciousness before it actually does go off. Secondly, the bed feels heavier.

…As do your bones.

Third— Sylus is not on the couch like he’s been for the past few months. He’s with you, in the comfort of your own bed, and as the wooly blanket slips down your upper half- leaving you to the cold air- it reveals to you a head between your thighs.

Pried open. One held up for a soft kiss while the other is pinned down— both wet. Sticky with- with you.

You gasp. “Sylus-“

You’ve no time to even rub the sleep from your eyes, big weathered hands anchoring you in place, because he lifts his head from his plate for a millisecond when you try to stop him and does something he hasn’t for months.

He snarls.

“Quiet. I’m eating.”

Protective. Territorial. That isn’t your pussy he eats from, lapping fervently at it as if it wasn’t just a number of hours ago you were hand-feeding him steak cubes from the cutting tray— no, it’s his.

He blocks your hand from interfering when it slips beneath the cover. So when that doesn’t work, you attempt to clamp your legs shut (quavering, you realize, on either side of his lupine face). All your efforts- bogged by sleep and the simple fact that he was leagues stronger- are for naught.

‘Good try’, his eyes seem to tease, though, glittering devilishly at you as his tongue flicks your clit. And then, when you hesitantly lie back and rest a hand in his hair- ‘that’s it, kitten.’

“Good girl,” he practically purrs.

He’s got a big appetite. You’ve known that.

Not as much as you do right now.

“Sylus, wait wait wait,” you moan. Life has thrown so much your way, especially in the past year or so, but you never went belly-up for it. You fought and resisted and squared up.

But right now, half of you almost wants to take him lying down- let him take his fill of you and then pin you down to take some more. Let him have his way with you, whatever that may entail.

But you- You have work tomorrow, and- and responsibilities—

“Hush,” he goes, voice muffled, having some preternatural ability to tell just what you’re thinking. He drifts a hand up your belly to splay over the valley of your breast. Your heart thumps beneath his callous palm like a metronome. Like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds or hours before you need to get up and get ready. Start a day in which you leave home, leave Sylus, and spend the rest of it longing to get back.

“Just take the day off.”

Grudgingly, you lie your head back. It’s… not a great idea, but as your rationale clouds, it seems like your best one.

“O-Okay.”

As a hot, long tongue stripes up your pussy and then his other hand, the one he used to comfort you in his own weird way, slinks downward again- the ceiling becomes too boring to bear.

So you glance down.

He’s handsome as all get out. Really, a couple months ago when he first appeared to you as a human, that was all you could think as days passed and you became grossly aware that you were sharing a confined space with a man. That you had been all along— and your prancing around the apartment half-naked was just one of the countless spectacles he’d seen.

He never pounced, though. Never lunged. Never bit you like a dog or hurt you like a man, even when every bit of his crude exterior screamed hazardous. He was a good boy. And you don’t care what form he takes; he took you as you are, didn’t he? When you were scared of your own shadow and a little snippy because of it. He let you hold the leash to his heart and snarled at anything that came too close- protected you against your piece of crap ex without prompting. Turned your fear into a mellow thing.

Warmth prods at your heart. Loosens your legs up where they clench around his head.

That day at the pound turns in your memory like a spindle.

You could’ve lost him. He- He could’ve been gone forever hadn’t you showed.

…But you did show. For the shitty time you’d been having, Sylus was your one silver lining. You were there for each other as a shoulder to lean on and a hand to hold.

Your fingers tug gently on his scalp. Fruity shampoo breathes out from the blanket when you flip it over his head to allow him better access. Nerves eat you from the inside out. You’ve seen the looks, the hungering glances and felt the fingertips that linger in seemingly innocent touches:

Finally experiencing the culmination of his quiet longing is a whole different game, though.

Slurps ring out from your thighs. Your sighing, candied words- spoken in that ridiculous tone reserved only for him- make his ears perk atop his head.

“Good boy,” you breathe. “Y-You’re perfect.”

He rewards your obedience with a finger, thick and delightful. You gasp and arch your back into his hands- or, his one hand- a throaty moan rippling from his open mouth. The several little muscles in his face go lax when you coyly guide him deeper into your cunt and he melts.

“You taste delicious,” he whispers. “Sweet girl. I can-“ a deep, shivering inhale. Not from you- from him. “I can smell how much you want it…. You’re soaked.”

You mewl his name and almost reach full relaxation ‘til you glance back down and, with the covers off, spot where his other hand disappears. He’s naked- not in the boxer briefs and sweatpants you’d bid him goodnight in- and holds his fat, upright cock in his hand.

And his hand is big. Can dwarf every part of you with its hold.

His cock is somehow bigger.

Your heart leaps from your chest as he eyes you. He’s daunting. Every bit intimidating and then some- especially as you realize he won’t be just content with kitten licking your pussy, delicious as it is, and ending the intimate moment right afterward.

Dogs will always take the bowl if you slide them one: and then look to you later for seconds.

Point is- he’s insatiable.

You shiver as raunchy images flash in your brain— rough fingers pinning back your thighs as he rams inside you, setting a relentless pace as he bites and sucks and claims.

In your imagination, he doesn’t pull out when he comes.

…What really takes your breath is the engorged knot at the base of him, though, flushed an impatient red. Fattening by the second.

Cum- not pre- dribbles from the tip. For how long he’s been at this, you don’t know.

“Sylus-!” You mean to shriek it, but you can only manage a whispering scream. “Wait, wait, wait! what do you have in your hand-!“

A grin plays at his lips. Crooked, recalcitrant.

Challenging.

He’s hardly lucid, what with the delicious heat emanating from the slick lips he stuffs a second finger in, to acknowledge your question, so it’s surprising when he pulls back a centimeter to make an answer. Lust grips him tight— the need to fuck and take and mount— but that concerned, cute little bump in your brow is one he wants to smooth.

It’s the least he can do.

“Take a guess,” he sussurates, licking slowly up your inner thigh. Torturing you. “It’ll be in yours soon though, kitten, so get ready.”

Your eyes bulge from your skull.

His response: a low chuckle paired with a moan.

From that point on, even as he suckles expertly at your puffy clit, working you to a sniveling mess as you scream on his fingers, you’re focused entirely on what he’s doing below the blanket. He palms at himself- it’s all he can do to relieve the ache as he wrestles with his fraying self-control- massaging his balls and knot as they throb.

When he withdraws his digits from you, eyes drooping at the cream coating his knuckles before fluttering back at the taste of it— you lie back down and gulp.

Taking work off today is a good idea. You can already think of a few excuses. Not being able to walk properly is one of them. Being unable to get out of bed… Feeling so sore and feverish after he’s fucked you into pyrexia that you can’t even move an inch without being reminded of it.

He straightens. The cover slips off him entirely and he’s tall. Hulking. Painting you in his shadow- but the moonlight brings out the sheer hunger on his face, and you alight with warmth all over again.

You hope he’s primed you. You pray he’s done good to prepare you for what’s to come. Because oh, it’s coming. You know that.

“Now,” he heaves, dragging your legs either side of him as he kneels. You can tell he’s not well off, trying to muster a cocksure grin but failing as he perspires at the temple. “To the good part.”

You frown at that, almost- a pang of hurt weaving through the haze of desire and the smell of your musk on his fingers as he licks them clean again, ever thorough. He notes the flicker of your brow with a thoughtful pause and then a sigh, shaking his head as he grabs your jaw and angles his front down.

He chuckles, and you experience a singular flash of softness when he goes, “Oh, so sensitive… Don’t pout. I thoroughly enjoyed the opening too, kitten.”

You’re shaking. Insides molten with the pure want for him to just- to just do something already. There’s no opportunity to come down from your high because you feel his cock bob against your tummy as he sets himself up, and you burn anew.

Oh, you love him. You really do. He’s endearing in all the places he shouldn’t be. He’s charming and strong and willing to fight for you. So you don’t care if he’s a little old and slow on the uptake when it comes to new tricks- territorial and intimidating. He’s yours.

Eyes half open, you lift your hands to trail from his pecs to his firm, scarred belly. With a hiss, he trembles. Catches your wrists and tuts at you a second later, saying, “It’s better to keep those at your side. Once you get me going, I won’t be easy to stop.”

And you’d be half tempted to tease him some more, you know, but fuck if he isn’t massive. And fuck if you aren’t a little scared for it.

So you clutch the sheets as he drives himself inside with a grunt, and settle below him. You trust he’ll take care of you.

The entrance is, at first, surprisingly smooth, what with the natural lube you’ve provided for him. You let him lift your ass and bend you into a bow-shaped thing so he can hit deeper- and that’s when there’s some turbulence.

Your fingers curl into the cotton fabric. You brace and wait for the sting to subside. When you realize your eyes are clamped shut, though, you open them to see his expression and pall at the sight of him.

He’s gorgeous. Even when he looks like he’s ready to sneeze- brow scrunched and jaw slack as he dragoons himself inside, tormentingly slow- he’s nothing less than charming through your lens. But you’re thankful for the time he gives you to adjust because you need it.

Frankly, if he intends to put his knot inside— and he fucking won’t, there’s just no way— the walls of your pussy need the patience on his end.

For several seconds, Sylus does not breathe. You’re sizzling hot; when he eventually bottoms out, he can’t tell where he starts and you end- all he knows is that it’s gooey and warm and so fucking tight his balls throb. He deliquesces between your thighs. You welcome him, your body like a landing pad.

He supposes, right then, you’ve always been very hospitable.

Sylus curses. “Ngh, you’re tight... Loosen up,” he presses his forehead to yours and hisses out through his teeth. His eyes glitter like rhodolite in the dark. Reverent hands run down your side and clasp your hip. With your slick still coating his lips- tangy sweet, you find, as he presses them to yours- you realize he’s worshipful. The moonlight pouring in the blinds makes his silhouette glow a true blue.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, swiping over your bottom lip with his tongue. “Sweet, and soft. And a very good girl. I’ve got your back. You know that, don’t you?” Then, he draws his hips back and—

Your little bed judders. But the squeak that sounds out is yours as he ruts back inside and your labia brushes with his knot.

He won’t put it inside. He won’t. You’re sure of it. Mutts only do that when they’re mating. Mutts only do that. Sylus is- is so much more than that, and….

“Mmm,” an uncontrollable moan escapes you as he begins to move, like really move, and your eyes roll.

With some difficulty, he continues. “You’re naive. Plucking something like me from its cage. But I admire your bravery, kitten, so— f- uck— let me just show you, hm? How far my loyalty goes?”

Void of words, you nod.

The reindeer-patterned bedsheets aren’t enough. Your hands leave them in favor of Sylus, grasping around his back so tight your fingertips can make out the raised scars there. Planes of muscle flexing with divots with every thrust forward.

Offhandedly, he hits that sweet spot inside you. Your nails dig in by accident, and you say his name, stringing out the syllables in a delightful, dizzying mewl.

The floodgates- they burst open. Something in him gives.

He rams forward, abandoning his restraint altogether as his furry, salt-and-peppered tail whacks the mattress beneath you. That fat swell below his cock teases at your sweltering hole with every pump inside, and Sylus burrows his nose into your sweaty neck to whimper.

You’ve never heard such a noise escape him before. Huffs, grumbles, long, exaggerated sighs he makes whenever he finds a nice spot to lay down (usually on you), as if he pays the rent around here— but never that.

He whines, words strained, “Think you can take my knot? Hah… Nod your head for me, kitten- because I don’t think that I can stop it. I can’t wait any longer. I need you to…” he shudders, “take it.”

One moment you’re nervously glancing down to monitor him- and the next he’s nudging your head back with his nose before crashing his lips to yours. Your eyes widen when he flips you over, presses his chest to your back, and thrusts inside with vigor.

With the new angle, you stretch around him with a mewl, but every bone in your body locks when his hips slam flush to your ass and—

His knot pops inside with a gasp.

Throwing your hands to the strong ones he latches around your midriff, you wail. He clings to you like a limpet, his thighs trembling behind yours as he moans endlessly in your ear. Pointed teeth graze at the nape of your neck. He doesn’t bite- but amidst the warp of pain and a pleasure so intense it gives you vertigo, you distantly realize that he probably wants to.

He holds himself off. Breath hitching as his pelvis claps into you. Euphoria rolls across him, shocks him like a static bolt, every fiber of his being awash with it as his jaw falls open and he succumbs to you.

When he comes, it’s so hard his ears ring.

The walls of your pussy become less hospitable, then, clenching around him so tight as you both cum that for a moment, he can’t even say a word to ease you. He aches inside you- you can feel it. The girth of him twitching as your heat swallows him up with a spasm. His knot takes all thought from your brain. Stuffed inside your poor hole, tumid and veiny.

You feel him coalesce with you, too. Eagerly rutting his seed inside (ensuring it sticks, you realize when he drops a finger to your folds, checking for leakage), releasing rope after rope of hot cum as you go limp and take it.

You offer up a choked mewl when he kisses at your spine, brushing your hair aside just to access your neck where he licks and sucks. You trust Sylus not to get carried away with a bite if he did, to lose out to what he’s been taught.

Evidently, he doesn’t trust himself.

Your fingers dig into his thick, scarred forearm and he sighs behind you- a long, feeble sound. He’s barely able to keep himself draped over you- let alone support your own position beneath him, what with the soup you’ve made of his brain- but he manages.

Silence sprawls out as you attempt to steady your breaths. All that comes in between it is the occasional, wet squelch and the gusting inhales he takes at the column of your neck.

“It… hurts. So good…” he hisses after several beats. Only marginally brought back to reality, you flutter your eyes open and offer a yip back. “You’re doing so well, though… Just-“ He twitches inside you, then, throbbing like a second pulse point, his cock undulating in your walls, greedily taking up all the space.

“Fuck. Stay still, sweet girl,” he grunts, harebrained. His eyes crinkle and close. “I want it all inside. Don’t wanna see so much as a drop escape that perfect, tight pussy. Hah- you hear me?”

“Y-Yes,” you quiver back. Speaking is too difficult, you realize a second later, shoving your open mouth into the pillow as you pant for air.

Yet, you can’t help but ask with a slur, “Sylus- when- when will it be over?”

He moans, right in your ear. Goosebumps run up your naked body- all that clothes you.

“It’s too big,” you cry.

“No,” he quips. “It’s just right.”

As if on cue, your cunt gives another squeeze around him, milking him for all he’s worth. In response, he bows his forehead into the crook your shoulder and jaw make to bury a whine, and your mind spins when you register his balls, hanging fat against your ass, lurching. And oh, you’re spilling, you can feel it, beginning to ooze profusely from your puffy lips even as he keeps it plugged; really, even if Sylus wanted to separate from you (he doesn’t), he couldn’t.

There’s nothing in him that wants the distance. The idea of self-autonomy. The idea of independence. No- he’s all yours.

“We’ll wait it out,” he breathes. Coasting a hand along your belly in an effort to placate you. He knows it can’t be easy for you. But the world— that stupid, irksome ex-boyfriend of yours— needs to understand where your heart belongs. There’s no better way to show that than to demonstrate it first with the body.

And you—

(Bitten by his branding kiss, supple skin covered with the divots of his teeth, your belly full of his veritable seed-)

Well. Nobody should look at you, he decides in his spirit right then, and come to any other conclusion but the one that you’re his.

Unmistakably, irrevocably, his.

“It’ll subside soon enough,” he soothes with a peck to your throat, a surprisingly chaste move. He loops his arms around your waist again and carefully- mindful not to exacerbate the heady ache- maneuvers on his side, pulling your back to his front. He whispers at your ear, “So long as you don’t move or stir me up, we’ll be fine.”

Yet, a set of canines brush at your jugular, and again- there’s that inkling, this time in better clarity, that passes your conscience. You know he wants to bite. To mark. To claim. You know it and have the vague idea of all it entails, yet he… won’t.

With a frown, cursing as you turn ever so slightly and his fat knot shifts inside you, you hazily meet his eyes.

His are practically glowing, laying heavy on you. Charting across your face the moment they make contact, observing every brief flicker of your expression to try and assign a feeling— happiness, he hopes, contentedness— to it. His lashes totter and you burn with shame when a lewd suck rings between your legs, his cock wet all the way down to the slight plush of his abdomen.

You don’t mean to pout, “why won’t you-“

“Not yet, Kitten,” he scolds. Trying to swallow down a pit of self-consciousness in your throat, you murmur, “What, do you not want me?” Sylus huffs as if offended. His eyes drag from your lips to your searching eyes.

“Really, kitten? …What, should I give you an equally stupid answer?”

Oh, you’d tug his tail if you had the luxury of moving right now-

“Of course I want you. Can’t you tell?” He sighs, then, burrowing his nose into your neck almost to hide. His ears droop along his head, donning a relaxed look.

“So. Did you like it..?”

“Y-Yeah…” you murmur, carefully looping a hand back to stroke behind his fuzzy ears. “But, I just… I thought you’d really do it, I thought you’d really tie us together-“

He chuckles richly. “We’re already tied together, kitten,” peppering another kiss below your jaw, licking appreciatively at the sweat that clings to soft skin. “I’ve belonged to you for some time now, haven’t I?”

Your heart skips a beat when you realize he’s right.

“I- I guess so. Yeah.”

“So no more whining,” he lifts his chin to sample your lips, this time- his knot still throbbing white-hot and insistently inside you (albeit the ache is lessening)- eyes lidded as he conveys his affections.

“I’ll do it when we’re both ready. When…” He pauses to swallow.

In that short frame of time before he next speaks, you’re drawn to all his scarring. The faded ligature marks around his neck, the seemingly permanent gnashes along his body (which was a touch too lean before you familiarized him with good food). The nip taken from one of the ears sat atop his silvery, mussed locks. In that moment, you don’t see the misshapen, loveless thing he was beaten into— but rather the softness he worked to regain for you.

“When I know it’s manageable.”

If he feels unsure of himself- whether he can remain… civil, for lack of a better word, amidst the fervent haze that a mark would bring about— then you suppose you could wait for a bit longer.

“Okay,” you murmur with a faint, understanding smile, caressing one half of his face dotingly. You tilt your head slightly to plant a firm, benevolent kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“But you’ll always be a good boy to me, okay? I trust you. I told you before- you’re perfect-“ Rather roughly, he noses your head back into the pillow, readjusting his iron hold around you as he grumbles into your hair.

“…Hush. Now close your eyes and go back to bed. I’ll tell you when it’s ready to pull out.”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

[khioneee]

simon is one of the girls (sort of)

boyfriend!simon was always invited to girls’ night—not out of obligation, but because everyone genuinely wanted him there. he fit into the group effortlessly, his quiet, protective presence becoming a staple at every gathering. whether it was lounging around in pajamas with face masks on or heading out for a wild night at the club, boyfriend!simon was part of the plan.

if it was girls’ night, boyfriend!simon was there. need someone to open a bottle of wine? he had it uncorked in seconds. carrying heavy bags for a night in? already done. if the group was heading to the club, simon was always the first to volunteer to drive everyone home safely at the end of the night.

boyfriend!simon never overstepped, but he wasn’t a silent bystander, either. when conversations got lively, he’d chime in with the perfect sarcastic remark or sly observation, earning a mix of giggles and mock glares. and when a topic turned to relationship drama, he always gave it to you and your friends straight.

“dump the bloke,” he’d say bluntly, not even looking up from his drink. “if i hear his name one more time, i’m blocking his number myself.”

your friends always groaned, but soon enough, they started messaging him directly for advice.

out on the town, boyfriend!simon was the designated protector. no one had to ask—he was always at the edge of the group, watching for anything suspicious. he made sure no one lingered too close, and if someone tried to chat up one of your friends unwantedly, simon’s presence alone was enough to send them packing. if they didn’t get the hint, simon would step forward, voice low and deadly calm: “you’ve got somewhere else to be, mate.” that always did the trick.

despite his intimidating size, boyfriend!simon never felt out of place during your quiet nights in. he sat comfortably among blankets and pillows, scrolling on his phone as face masks dried and reality tv droned in the background. your friends teased him mercilessly about it, but he didn’t mind.

“you’re basically one of us now, si,” one of them joked once.

he gave a small shrug, not looking up. “just don’t expect me to paint my bloody nails, yeah?”

with boyfriend!simon around, you and your friends could relax fully, knowing he’d take care of everything—from heavy bags to creeps at the bar. he wasn’t just there for you—he was there for everyone you cared about, making sure nothing went wrong on his watch.

one night, after everyone had left and it was just the two of you, you leaned into him, curious. “why are you so sweet to my friends?”

boyfriend!simon didn’t miss a beat, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he answered softly, “because they mean a lot to you—and you mean everything to me.”

an. i desperately need a man like him.