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saintobio · 2 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to

♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.

Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different.

Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.

After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her.

So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life?

Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.

And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”

“A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.”

That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.

When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?

“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”

It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”

“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added.

The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now.

“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?”

Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.”

“Well.. what is the HIS?”

“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.”

Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”

“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.”

“Roger that, boss!”

It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.

It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.

Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences.

And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?

“Caw! Caw!”

The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.

But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.

He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.

“Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”

As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.

“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”

“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”

Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.

Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.

“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”

To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission.

Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense.

That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.

He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for.

Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things?

Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him.

But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away.

It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer.

However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.

With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.

“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.

“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.”

Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”

“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.

“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”

He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.”

“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”

“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice.

But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”

Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.

Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.”

When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed.

She’s a traitor.

Punish her.

Hurt her.

Devour her.

While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you.

“I betrayed you because of her!”

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her.

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said.

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.

You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved.

“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.”

“...I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.

Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?

His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”

“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.

But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head.

It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor.

Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.

His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake.

No… no!

He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”

Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever.

Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.

But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?

Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.

“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”

Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.”

Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”

He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”

Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.

Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.

Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”

That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”

The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”

Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another.

They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either.

“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first.

Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”

“Why’d you ask to meet?”

“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”

Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”

“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”

Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.”

If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind.

Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life.

You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure.

Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.

After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.

But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”

Bullshit.

Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.

Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.

As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”

Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”

“Ha ha! Let’s do that!”

“Boss, let’s go!”

“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”

The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about.

Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital?

It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter.

“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer.

Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.”

“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you.

But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life.

“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”

There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café.

At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.

And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you.

“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”

There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute.

Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?”

“Caw! Caw!”

“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.

“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.

And then, that day happened.

The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with.

So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.”

That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman.

When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you.

And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of.

But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment.

“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?”

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.”

“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.”

Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional.

Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.

No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.

That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso.

It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look.

“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”

“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.”

The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.

“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”

He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”

Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”

“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love.

“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.”

You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”.

“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”

Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.”

Like me.

“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.”

“...Sleep tight, kitten.”

You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.

And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.

However, that same night was a different story.

No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.

He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.

What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?

The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.

“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness.

“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”

Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”

But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.

His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”

But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again.

“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”

His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.

He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.

A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.

As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.

“Sylus?”

He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him.

“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.

He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.

On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”

The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.

Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”

But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.

He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face.

“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”

Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”

February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too.

Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.

The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone.

She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up.

As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body.

“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.”

You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night.

Do you even recognize it?

“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”

As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.

“Sylus…”

His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.”

Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.”

Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”

Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”

Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.

And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.

Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?

But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would.

When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Until we meet again.”

As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.

PREVIOUS PART

#love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads x you #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x yn #lds x reader #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #sylus angst #sylus fanfic #l&ds sylus

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 11 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Part 3 to Mid-day Texts

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: After your explosive homecoming where everything seemed to fall right into place, Simon begins to get cold feet about his feelings and what they could mean for the both of you. All seems bleak until a text about someone harassing you while you're on a night out makes him come to your aid and solidifies a decision he has already made.

Word Count: 8.8 k

Warnings:

Part 1 | Part 2

Simon’s gaze lingered a few more seconds at his office's door you had just left out of with a smile pressed to his lips. You were back and even though it was such a small occurrence in the grand scheme of things, it felt like a holiday to him. He settled back into his chair at the desk to dive back into his paperwork feeling as light as air, continuously checking his watch to count down until he could finally leave and give you the text to head over so you both could pick up again where you had just left off.

Even as the elation of knowing you were back was still at the forefront of his mind through the rest of his day, there was a dark omen gathering at the edge of his thoughts that he was not fully conscious of yet. It sat there in the shadow like the distant accumulation of clouds before a storm.

It was nothing, he tried to tell himself, but still there it lay in wait for him…until he really understood why it was there at all.

Never had you experienced such an explosive homecoming than the one Simon gave you the second you returned from your mission. All those worries you had about him finding someone else to fill his bed had been for not as the way his lips were on yours the very second you two were alone was all the proof you needed, his yearning flowing into you until you were drunk upon it.

That night, as you lay beside him in his bed with that post-coital glow radiating off the both of you, there was a strange calmness to the room that had not been there before. For a second it almost felt like…. No you couldn’t say it, not even just in your head. That elation you felt was that of someone returning to a familiar place after a long trip, that’s all, nothing more.

Simon’s long, thick fingers drew slow circles along the curve of your hip as you lay close while he finished off the last of his cigarette. Crushing the butt into the ashtray on the table beside the bed, he pulled you against his bare chest that was still warm and pink from the rigorous activity you both had been engaged in. Your head rested on his pectoral, your ear pressed against it so you could hear the repetitious thumping of his heartbeat.

Listening to the calming rhythm fill your head, the only sound in the room beside your collective breathing, your eyelids began to droop and your head became more heavy as it lulled forward. Amber eyes took notice and yet Simon didn’t say a word, not yet. With a gentle touch he ran his fingertips along your spine up and down as he watched a smile just barely breach the line of your lips.

If you had been more awake you would have heard that rhythmic thumping quicken in tempo as the man who swore only a short time ago that this was nothing more than a fling was caught off guard by how perfectly you fit against him as you lay there in his arms. It was more wonderful than he could have asked for.

Quietly Simon cleared his throat. “Ya can stay the night, if ya want,” that low, gruff voice brought you back from the brink of sleep, making you stir against his bare chest.

You rubbed your eyes, only then realizing that you had dozed off. “Guess I’m more exhausted than I thought,” you chuckled as you stretched, hoping the increased blood flow to your limbs would rouse you.

“You’ve been gone a while and left us both high an dry; I might get a hankerin’ for a midnight snack since I’ve been starvin’ for over a fuckin’ month. Just stay.”

You chuckled soft as you nuzzled back down onto his chest, throwing your arm over top of his abdomen to secure you to him. “Fine,” you agreed, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible while your stomach did backflips; in your sleepy state you couldn’t tell if you had pulled it off or not. “But it’s only because I’m already fucking comfortable and walking all the way back to my barracks would be hell right now. Promise I’ll be sure to be gone by sunrise.”

"Sure, sure," he chuckled as he hunkered down into the bed with you wrapped in his embrace.

He should have been more than content to lay there tangled together, naked bodies pressed close after how much he had missed you, but a cold sweat spread through his limbs as the minutes passed until his whole body was engulfed. As he silently watched your breathing settle into a steady pattern, your chest rising and falling lightly, his own chest grew more and more tight with the realization of what he couldn’t deny any longer; he had broken his promise to himself. This was more than emotional words conflated in the heat of the moment as he thought the confession in his office to be.

Simon had fallen in love with you…and that terrified him.

This wasn’t like him, he wasn’t the type to be involved with someone that way; ever the stone cold sniper, dedicated to his work, living life behind a shield of anonymity that hid his face when he wanted. Attachment wasn’t something that was supposed to happen to him, that was a dangerous game that he knew well, and yet despite all that here he lay as his heart filled to the brim with an emotion he had very little experience in.

That fear churned around in his mind as he placed a kiss to the top of your head and turned off the light before staring up at the ceiling. In the dark the shadows danced along the surface, creating patterns out of nothing as he weighed everything in his mind. As he drifted off into sleep, unable to hold it back any longer, he was no closer to an answer then when he started.

When you awoke Simon was passed out beside you fast asleep. Reaching down to the floor, your fingers found your watch and you brought it to your face to check the time; it was just at sunrise and you needed to go. Silently you moved out from his side and gathered your things, redressing in the attached bathroom so you wouldn’t risk waking him. Only then did you creep back over to the bed and place a soft kiss to his cheek before leaving him to sneak back to your barracks before you were caught.

As you quietly brought the door to latch and your hand released the handle, your body shivered as you were instantly hit by an overwhelming feeling of dread. There was no reason for your heart to be pounding or your hands to suddenly go clammy, but as you made your way back you just couldn’t shake this new feeling.

It was silly, the entire time you had spent with him nothing had felt out of place. And yet that sensation persisted, rearing its ugly head completely out of thin air.

Something had shifted as you slept, something that was there to rob you of your happy homecoming, and for the rest of the day it ate at your mind so that by the time you were finished your nerves were completely frazzled. You constantly pulled your cell phone out of your pocket to check the screen, but nothing ever appeared from Simon. There could have been any number of reasons that caused him to stay silent all damn day and if you didn’t have this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you probably would have focused on that.

Today though it only served as confirmation that something was wrong.

The moment night hit and you had a spare moment as you lay in your bunk, you finally gathered the courage to face this head on and you hurriedly wrote out a text to send.

Need some company tonight?

You sent the text and watched as it went through, but there was no quick reply, no instant confirmation that he wanted to see you as soon as you could get your ass over there. Radio silence.

Setting your phone down beside you on your bed, you tried to focus on your book to pass the time, but you could not pry your thoughts away from drifting back to your phone. It took all your will not to keep flipping the damned thing over to check the screen for what you knew would be nothing. The minutes ticked on in agonizing fashion until finally you felt your phone vibrate and you rushed to pick it up. One text glared back at you.

Bit busy tonight, maybe later alright?

Fuck.

It felt like you had been shot as a stinging sensation ran through your chest. Night after night you had gone over there no matter the conditions: if he was busy, if he was tired, if he was stressed. Whatever it was he still made it his mission to have you both sweating and out of breath…and now nothing.

Days passed under the same excuse with slight variation, always that he was busy or too tired or just didn’t feel up to company. You'd repeat to yourself that this was just a dry spell and that things would pick back up soon. Then one week became two and two weeks became three and at that point you had to be honest with yourself that something had happened that caused him to back away from you.

Had you done something in your tired state that made him push away? Came on too strong, said something out of turn? You stopped messaging him and he didn’t try to contact you outside of a few minor things here and there concerning work.

For something that was supposed to be casual, the sudden lack of it was causing you to become listless and reclusive, to the point that when off duty you would seclude yourself in your barracks. Days seemed to stretch on in endless fashion as what was once a major part of them was no longer available to you and that left you in a state of confusion. Why did it bother you so much? You knew the terms- this was just a casual thing.

And yet you knew there was more to it than that. You didn’t want to admit that you had…no, you couldn’t… but the signs were as clear as day. You had fallen for him and now you had to suffer the pain of rejection.

Simon’s company was something you had grown accustomed to: the smell of his cigarettes at the end of the night, the weight of his hand on your bare hip as you both sat in silence coming down from that euphoric high, those random texts he’d send either asking to see you or checking in. Now all that familiarity had nowhere to go and it left you empty.

Why did you have to go and break the only rule that could ultimately destroy you? Why did you have to fall in love?

Sulking alone in your room after hours, you gave yourself a few more days to feel sorry for yourself before you had had enough. If Simon was moving on, then you needed to as well and maybe things could get back to normal. The weekend was coming up and with no new missions on the horizon you had the whole thing to yourself. So why not go out for a bit, just to clear your head?

There was a bar within a ten minute walk from the base, a small rundown hole-in-the-wall that was filled with regulars and members from the taskforce whenever they got the chance. It wasn’t much, but a change in scenery was all you needed. A little fun wouldn’t hurt, would it? Besides maybe a few drinks would help you get out of your head, at least for the night anyway.

No sense in waiting around for a text you knew wouldn’t come.

As you walked in amidst the sound of hard rock blasting from the jukebox against the wall, you took note of a few familiar faces among the crowd. You didn’t feel up to socializing just yet, but it was nice to know that if you got the hankering for conversation later there would be someone there you sort of knew.

There were several empty seats situated around the sparsely filled bar as most were stationed in groups at the tables scattered throughout and you took your place amongst the few regulars before ordering a beer from the bartender. You’d gotten halfway through slowly sipping at your drink, messing about on your phone when a text popped up on screen and you couldn’t believe who it was from.

It was Simon.

Where are you? Went by your barracks and you weren’t there.

He was looking for you? You had not expected to hear from him at all tonight, but to see the words written out that he had come by to look for you made your heart skip a beat. It felt like being a teenager again, getting worked up for your crush to message you and you hated how quick you were to get excited to have him talk to you again after all that distance.

You sat there with your phone in hand, debating if you even wanted to text him back yet or not. On one hand it would be nice to let him suffer for a bit, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. This was supposed to be a casual hookup relationship and you were acting like you were dating. Simon was only acting as he would in your type of situation; why punish him for that?

At the bar. Wanted to get out.

You shot the text back and instantly another followed behind.

Are you coming back soon?

Did he need another fix, is that why he was so curious? I mean, it wasn’t entirely out of the question, though you would need to take the edge off a little more before you saw him again; you had to be sure you wouldn’t let your feelings make this complicated. You still wanted to have sex with him and that was enough…you guessed. At least it was something.

Just as you were about to text him back to let him know that you’d be back soon and ask if he wanted to meet at his, you felt the presence of someone standing at your elbow. As you turned and looked up, you found yourself face to face with a strange, greasy-haired man that you had briefly caught a glimpse of earlier sitting at the other end of the bar.

“Well hello pretty lady,” he greeted you, his speech a little slurred. He stumbled as he came to sit in the bar stool right next to you, almost spilling his drink in your lap. “Care for some company? Name’s Dylan by the way.”

“I’m good,” you instantly shot back as your nose wrinkled and your lips contorted into a frown. “Thanks anyway.”

You turned your attention back to your phone only to be met with a hand on your arm as he began to stroke it up and down. “Come on baby, don’t be like that. You can’t be having much fun over here all by your lonesome. I’ve been told I’m pretty good at making beautiful ladies laugh.”

Quickly you snapped your arm back out of his reach. “I said I’m good,” you repeated a little more forcefully this time, hoping that the hint would be taken as you’d give him one chance to walk away with his dignity still intact if he wanted.

“No need to get heated,” he shot back, not taking anything but the time to keep harassing you. “I just want to chat. You could at least give me a chance. Maybe you’ll enjoy yourself more than you think.”

“Doubtful,” you sneered. “Do you always corner women in bars to get them to talk to you? Seems like maybe you’re not as good a conversationalist as you think you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Pushing the stool out a little you made to get up and leave, but as you stood so did Dylan and his hand was already around your wrist before you could step away. Your eyes flashed over to where the bartender should have been, but he must have popped into the back and those around you both acted as if they didn’t see a thing. Quickly you darted your eyes over to the table where the others from base had been and your heart sank as you didn’t know where they went; this might actually be a problem.

Just what you needed tonight.

Back at base something felt off about how you hadn’t answered yet, causing Simon’s pulse to quicken in his veins, almost as if he could sense through the phone the situation unfolding. He leaned against the outside wall of your barracks and took another long drag of his cigarette as he watched his phone screen closely. The way his stomach began to churn and his whole body felt tense forced him to hurriedly send a follow up text. If he looked dumb, at least his mind would be put at ease.

You alright?

Your phone buzzed in your hand, but Dylan wouldn’t let go of your wrist even as you struggled in his grasp. Maneuvering the small rectangle in your free hand, you used your thumb as best you could to type out your message. You didn’t want Simon to worry; you’d be done with this douchebag soon enough.

Sorry. Gotta creep that doesn’t understand no.

Give me a min, might have to get physical.

He quickly read the message the instant it pulled up on the screen and his cig slipped from his fingers as his blood ran cold. You were in trouble, that’s all he read and it was like a switch had been flipped. Instantly Simon perked up and began moving as fast as his strong legs could carry him off base and towards the bar with murder on his mind.

Thank Christ it was just under a ten minute walk; his blood pressure was already so high he could hear his heartbeat pulsating in his ears as he spotted the front door just a few feet away. Finally reaching the door, he grabbed the handle and flung it open with force.

Roaming eyes instantly clocked your back as you stood facing a man who had his hands on you and as he came closer he made out the slurred speech of the man fixing to be on a slab in the morgue if he didn’t remove himself immediately.

“You don’t want to cause a scene do you?” Dylan smirked as you tried to rip your arm out of his grasp. “I promise I’m not all bad; I can treat you real good if you just give me the chance. Never been with a military girl before. I bet you could teach me a few things.”

Your mouth was open, the words already on your tongue when you watched as the man at your elbow stopped and his attention was drawn behind you. Then you felt it, another presence to add to the mix, except you already knew who it was before he spoke.

“Get the fuck away from ‘er,” Simon’s low growl sounded as he stalked up behind you, “or you’re gonna wish you fuckin’ had.”

The man before you looked behind you wide-eyed at the massive figure of Simon standing at your back, but he couldn’t back down, not when his ego was on the line. Somewhere in that alcohol riddled brain he came to the conclusion that if he could just get the big man to leave that you would eventually give in to him.

Again he reached his hand out to grope your arm as you wrenched it out of the way. “Look pal,” the slimy bastard addressed him snidely, “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this isn’t what it looks like so why don’t you just go along. We were just having a little fun, weren’t we baby?”

“No, we fucking weren’t,” you hissed back as you joined Simon in glaring him down.

“Ya heard ‘er,” Simon immediately jumped to your defense, “so even though I rarely like repeatin’ myself, I’ll tell you one more time. Get. The fuck. Away. From ‘er.”

The rage in his voice made you shudder with its intensity. Though you could not see it, you knew by the way he spoke through his teeth that his jaw was clenched tight, matching what you could see which were his fists tensing so tight that it was turning his knuckles white. Shit just the aura radiating off of him was so full of wrath that there was no mistaking just how angry he was.

The man took another swig of liquid courage before he grimaced with a shake of his head. “You think you can just waltz over and steal this sweet little thing out from under me?” he challenged, stepping in closer to you to get in Simon’s face. “I saw her first, she came here alone. So, she’s gonna be coming home with me; I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

He reached out to you once more and actually got a bit of a substantial caress this time on your hip; instantly Simon saw nothing but red.

That was fucking it. Whatever modicum of decorum Simon possessed up until now completely flew out the window the moment that bastard had even brought up trying to get you to go home with him. And now he had watched him touch you?! If he didn’t back off now, they would be carrying him out in a body bag.

It didn’t matter anymore of who saw or heard what; if the guys back at base figured it out from the buzz of talk that would come from tonight or if it somehow got all the way back to Price tomorrow, Simon wasn’t about to let this fucking creep keep putting his filthy hands and lay claim to what belonged to him.

“She may ‘ave come here alone, but she’s wit me,” Simon again growled as his accent became more pronounced, this time with enough venom that it could have burnt a hole through the floor. “So I suggest you get your fuckin’ hand off my girl before you go home wit one fewer. Or test me and see what prize ya get. I’ve been itchin’ to try out my new Bowie knife. Supposed to be the sharpest on the market; maybe we should see how well it carves you up.”

As he spoke, his strong forearm snaked its way from behind you and wrapped itself securely around your waist so that as he took a step forward your back was right up against his chest. Through the shadow of his balaclava, those chestnut eyes glared daggers down into the man, daring him to make a move and give him a reason to commit murder, but lucky for him that Dylan’s brain finally reactivated in time. The intimidation had worked and the greasy piece of shit gave you both a nasty, agitated look before he grabbed his beer and walked off somewhere further into the opposite side of the bar.

Once he was out of sight, Simon quickly spun you around in his arms, his hands cupping around your cheeks as you came to face him. Those brown eyes softened as they shifted from anger to concern as he looked you over, checking down the line of your body for any signs that that bastard had done anything more to you that he hadn’t seen yet. “Ya alright?” he questioned. “He didn’t do anythin’ to hurt ya, did he?”

The question went right past you as your mind was reeling from the entire encounter the moment that you heard Simon’s voice behind you. You knew you had heard exactly what had been said, but was it all an act to get the man to leave?… you couldn’t be sure, but it was enough to put your mind into turmoil.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by more indistinct talking from Simon. “Hmm?” you asked as you met his eyes again.

“I asked if ya were okay to go,” he repeated, the pad of his thumb rubbing gently over the hollow of your cheek to bring you back into the moment.

“Yeah,” you muttered with a nod of your head as Simon let you go so you could double check you had everything. You paid your tab and with his hand on the small of your back, he ushered you both out the front doors.

Once outside, the cool night air wrapped itself around you, easing that tension in your chest from the stifling atmosphere of the bar as you both began to walk back the short distance to the base in silence. So many questions you had, so much uncertainty about what had just happened, that you were so consumed with your thoughts that you hadn’t realized you were back at Simon’s room until he was opening the door and you were following him inside like a lost pup.

He offered you a seat on the only thing he really had, his bed, and you took it just as you had done so many times it was almost like second nature to you now. Squatting down before you, he looked you over once more.

“Are ya really alright?” he asked the question again now in a more subdued setting where you could hopefully think more clearly.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him. “Annoyed, but fine.”

Why did it feel like that wasn’t the real question he was asking?

His eyes peered deep into your face a moment as if he was searching for something behind the surface, but it passed quickly and soon he stood back up to his full height and let the silence take back over. You allowed the moment to fall away as a more pressing question lingered on the tip of your tongue, gnawing at your mind until you couldn't ignore it any longer, one that you had almost forgotten all about in the chaos.

"So, what were you doing earlier, looking for me I mean?" you asked, genuinely curious.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his stance. "It's…complicated…" he started, but something caused him to pause.

As you waited for him to reply, everything hit you all at once as if suddenly stirred by being in his room and it felt hard to breathe. It had been going so well until that second, being here surrounded in that specific familiarity again, but fuck it brought too much baggage with it. Memories aroused by the feeling of his sheets against your hand, the scent of his room, the proximity to him after all that space was overwhelming and you could feel your shoulders begin to tense.

You had to get out and soon before you did or said something you’d regret.

“I should really go,” you said all of a sudden, just as Simon found his voice. “You can always tell me later, it's fine. We’ll need to keep our distance for a bit in case a private or someone saw what happened. Don’t want them to misconstrue what they thought was going on.”

Still and silent, Simon watched you through the mask a moment as you stood back to your feet. “Thank you though for coming to help, I really appreciate it,” the genuine sentiment prominent in your voice as you gave him a smile. Taking a few steps you moved to leave by walking past him, but his hand shot out from his side and grabbed your wrist to keep you from moving any further.

“Don’t,” he muttered softly.

Your heart skipped a beat, you couldn’t help it. A thousand times you’d heard him bark orders to the new recruits and this was nothing compared to that. His tone wasn’t demanding or harsh; it was soft and almost pleading. And against your mind telling you to go, you could do nothing else except stop right where you stood.

He moved his hand down to yours and kept it locked in his grasp as he reached up to his face and slid his balaclava up the back of his head until it came off of his chin, revealing those striking features that you hadn’t seen much of these days. Idly he turned your hand over in his so that the palms were touching and he could place his fingers between the spaces. You looked down at the connection and then up into his face where you were met with him staring straight back at you with such intensity it took your breath away.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to break the silence.

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to keep your head about all this. “About tonight?” you asked, sure that was what he was referring to. “It’s fine. I’ve dealt with many creeps over my lifetime. He won’t be the last, but I’m tough. Would have handed his ass to him in a minute, even if you hadn't come to my rescue.”

Simon shook his head as he took a step closer, nearly against you now. The air around you shifted to become thick with intentions that had not yet been spoken, but were on the horizon. “No, don’t mean ‘bout what happened tonight.”

Everything stood still, even time itself within that space that existed around just the both of you. Your pounding heartbeat pulsed hard until you could hear it in your ears as he moved in completely, taking your cheek in his free hand as he leaned his head down to rest his forehead against your own. Eyes closed, you held your breath as you waited for him to speak.

“I know you ‘eard what I said back there. Look, I tried to keep this casual like we agreed, I really fuckin’ did, luv, but watchin’ that goddamn pig put his hands on ya solidified everything for me…” he took a breath as his heart too was nearly beating out of his chest and you could feel his pulse through his hand still wrapped in yours. “I… I don’t want casual anymore.”

“What?” It felt like a dream, this couldn’t possibly be real… could it? Was he really saying what you thought he was?

A slight chuckle at your reaction, he continued. “When ya left on that mission, I thought it’d be fine; you’d return and we’d get back to what we do best: passin’ the time by in each other's company. Maybe the separation would do us some fuckin’ good, give us time to cool off. Then I spent over a month’s worth of nights without even seein’ ya once and it was fuckin’ torture. The way I missed ya was too strong for casual.”

“Then why…?” you started the confused question.

“Avoid ya?” he finished it. “I’m not the best at this shit and I panicked. For that I'm more sorry than ya know. But ya need to understand…I know I can be rough ‘round the edges; I’m the last person that deserves somethin’ as soft and gentle as you, sweetheart. Thought if I kept my distance, we could go back to just foolin’ ‘round. But I realized I don’t wanna go back; I want to try this, us, because fuck I can’t stand not havin’ ya all to myself. I want you…really, truly, only you…”

He was close, the warmth of his body as he came down from that rush of adrenaline made the air around you both heated. Moving his head until your lips were almost touching, bodies molded into the curves of one another, his fingertips brushed against your cheek as his gaze never wavered from the lower half of your face.

"Are…are you sure?" you asked hesitantly, as if he would take it all back in an instant.

He nodded against your head. “I want us to be together. Say you'll be mine,” he whispered, hot breath so close to your mouth you could feel it tingle across the skin of your lips. "I need ta hear ya say you'll be with me.”

Your head may have been foggy by the tension flowing between your bodies, but there was nothing you were ever more sure of than this being what you wanted. Without a moment of hesitation, you gave him his answer. “Simon, you idiot,” you chided him gently, “I was already yours. You’re the only one I want to be with.”

Moist lips were already capturing your own by the time the ending sound of the last word left your mouth as if he were trying to swallow the words down so you could not take them back. Kisses like fire peppered your lips, his entire mouth enveloping your own with nose pressed into his cheek so that you could barely breathe and yet you did not try to escape.

Everywhere his fingers went as they caressed the lines of your body left trails of sensitive nerve endings bursting to life, sending waves of delicious tingles coursing through your limbs until they reached the very top of your head. Something in the way he touched you was like he was trying to take all those feelings you both knew you had for each other and capture it to hold in the palms of his hands; he could not get enough.

Whatever lingering bit of upset that still clung to you was dissipated the longer he molded your bodies together until there was nothing left. You knew the type of man Simon was, knew that raw emotion was not something he had much experience in; for him to be so vulnerable about what he wanted, he was trying to prove that he was willing to change- for you. And that was enough to make you forgive him for everything.

"Please," he groaned into your open mouth, his hands dancing around your waist near the bottom of your shirt."I need ta be inside ya."

Your smile was on his lips. "Then what are you waiting for? Can't leave my boyfriend suffering," you replied with just as much desperation and that was all the confirmation he required.

Simon hadn't held that title in a long, long time, but something about how it sounded in your sweet voice made him feral and he was lost to anything but how you felt against him and how he would feel in you.

Grabbing the hem of your shirt with his exploring fingers, he released your mouth only long enough to rip it off over your head and toss it somewhere onto his floor. He had seen you naked dozens of times, had learned all the parts of your anatomy by touch alone, and yet here in this moment it was like seeing you for the first time again.

"Christ, luv, you are always such a pretty sight," he said, pupils dilating as he took a lingering moment to run those rough fingers along the side of your breast all the way to your hip. "I am one lucky bastard to have such a beauty for a girlfriend."

Fuck, you both were so drunk on the other that there was only one need that desperately had to be met and that was to feel your bodies become one and solidify this relationship. This wasn't just sex, this had become something more. You were now connected and wanted to reflect that physically just as it was emotionally. Everything went quickly after that: clothes being removed in a mess of heated breath and tangled parts, until both of you stood completely bare before the other.

He held onto you as he moved you both together closer to the bed where he sat back, pulling you into his lap onto the mattress. "I was a goddamn fuckin' fool to push away from ya like that," he said breathlessly as he helped you to situate yourself on him where he had you lean backward so that your back was pressed against his chest. "You are the only one for me, the only one that makes all this fuckin' hell worth somethin'."

His cock throbbed wildly between your thighs and up against his stomach, that aching tip with its dribble of precum begging to be allowed inside of your silky walls, but it wasn’t time for that yet. You were his focus, the one he wanted to bear penance to, and so securing you to him with a strong arm around your waist, his other hand rubbed across the length of your thigh until he decided to slip it in the crevasse between them.

"I am neva gonna let you go again, I fuckin’ swear it," his humid breath purred at your ear as he palmed your sex, catching the damp heat in his hand. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Mine.”

You opened your legs wider, until your thighs were on the outside of his. He extended his middle finger and drug it across the slit in your petals until he split them open and plunged it deep inside. You bucked in his grasp at the shock of his touch, back arching in a jolt as he ran that one finger along the length of your cunt, mouth falling agape as he found your clit and began to rub circles around the bundle.

“Simon,” your soft voice moaned his name as your head fell back to his shoulder and he smirked as he kissed your cheek.

“I do fuckin’ love the way ya say my name, luv,” he groaned.

It was like your lips turned sound into gold and never had a man felt more rich than he did.

His finger locked onto your clit continued in its steady rhythm while he risked moving his hand up to massage your breast so he could stimulate the nipple till it grew hard enough that he could lightly twist it between his fingers. A gasp escaped from your mouth into the room at the multiple points of sensitivity getting his attention that it was making your thoughts hazy. “I need ya so fuckin’ bad all the time I feel like I’m constantly burnin’,” he whispered more of his yearning words into your ear. “I should have known by how much I craved ya even from the start that it was never just gonna remain casual. You and I were meant to be.”

Your body felt like it was on a cloud, so feather light with pleasure that even his words added to the euphoria. Placing your hands on either side of your bodies onto the mattress you used the leverage to roll your hips onto his hand, grinding down in rhythm with the stroke of his finger. The heat from your body working its hardest the closer it got to its release caused sweat to bead along your forehead.

Not wanting to leave any part of you unloved, he switched his hand to your other breast where the nipple already stood hard and raised, waiting for him as he continued his confessions. “Even after I made ya come, ya still wanted to linger around like I was somethin’ special,” his bassy voice hummed in your head, “fuck was that addictive. Whenever ya left I’d get a knot in my stomach, cause I missed ya bein’ near. All the excuses I made to keep you hangin’ ‘round just a little longer were all bullshit. I just wanted ya to stay with me.”

Your pace quickened as he spoke, breathing heavy and labourous, spurred on by the longing in his words that made you ache. To finally hear the sheer extent of his want for you, goddamn it was like a deep inhale after holding your breath for far too long; there was no hiding anymore, no more skirting around feelings that were surfacing. You could let go and experience the full capacity of everything he had to give you without fear or confusion.

A sharp hiss of air between his lips as he rocked along with your movements, enjoying how lost you were in the depths of your oncoming release. “Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he groaned, his fingers coated in your warm juices as it nearly dripped to his palm. “Couldn’t say it before, but I can now. I am so smitten with ya I can’t see straight.”

Christ, Simon’s cock was so hard, the tip so swollen that the slightest bump from your thigh was enough that he felt like he might blow before he even got the chance to be inside you. The adrenaline from his admissions didn’t help either as skin felt like it was on fire and the way you moved over top of him had him grasping at anything to keep him sane until he could get you off once before diving in.

Your orgasm was approaching fast and your ability to think, let alone talk, was disrupted to the point that all you could do was grind harder on his hand and focus on remembering how to breathe. That pressure gathered as you rushed towards the peak, your muscles in your abdomen tightening as Simon leaned into your ear one more time to whisper the final thing that he wanted you to know about all this.

“Ya are my addiction,” he breathed into the skin of your neck before his lips latched on to suck and bite along all that tender meat.

And all at once it was over. The dam broke, completely exploded as the flood could not be contained a second more and as your head flew back with eyes closed you came so hard that you nearly knocked him over, but just as he had said earlier, he had you. Those fingers milked your clit through your orgasm for all it was worth, stroking out every last bit until there was nothing more for you to give him and you sank down into a puddle in his arms.

He held you snug in his embrace as he stippled kisses along the edge of your jawline and down your neck, delicate pecks as the ecstasy played itself out. “That’s it sweetheart, ride it out. All the way for me,” he groaned his praises. “I want ya to have your fill.”

Minutes passed with all your focus put solely on steadying your erratic breathing and racing pulse, until finally you were able to collect yourself. Only then did Simon give you a gentle nudge with his hand against your ass. “Get up,” he directed as he helped you to stand, turning you around to face him before guiding you back down to kneel over his lap, that thick cock twitching between your thighs. “I need to see those pretty eyes.”

Positioning your body over top of him, Simon held your hips tightly in his grasp as he led them down over the top of his lap. The head of his cock prodded against the folds of your cunt until he was able to slip between them, that first sensation of all that warm slick coating him making his torso shudder as he drug the length through the petals.

“Ya want this inside ya, pretty girl? Want me to fill that tight little cunt full of me?” he grunted as he continued to slather his cock in your cum. “Come on sweetheart, let me hear ya say it. I need to hear ya say it.”

Shit, the wind was knocked from your lungs, head lolling back as you felt all that delicious girth resting between your legs so close to its goal and yet still so far. You squirmed in his grip, trying to wrestle that fucking appendage inside you, but goddammit Simon had you firmly. Quickly you nodded your reply. “Please, Simon, please,” you begged, not caring how pathetic you sounded. “I need you inside me so bad. Please.”

That was the most he could tease as he was rocking dangerously close to the fucking edge and there was no way he would allow himself to come without taking you with him. Having you sit up again he aligned the tip with your entrance and as he guided your hips back down he pressed into it and in he went. He shoved your body down until you sat against his thighs so that he was buried in you to the base.

“Fuck,” he whined as abs clenched while his body convulsed so that he had to cling to you tight, fingers drilling into the muscle at your sides that would surely leave marks tomorrow. Christ you always felt like heaven.

Your arms locked around the back of his neck to keep you from falling off, delicate whimpers dripping from your lips as his cock nestled securely inside to stretch you good and full to the brim. It pulsed and throbbed against your walls like a heartbeat deep in your core, its rhythm making your body tremble to the cadence of a dance that only you two had perfected.

“Fuckin’ hell you feel so good,” he sighed.

More primal instinct overtook you as your mind crumbled to the euphoria of the connection of your bodies. Being on top you were in control of the pace and set it nice and easy as you rolled your hips till he loosened his grip and you could add a bit of bounce to the movement, using your knees to push off the mattress. Simon released your hips and gave you the reins to use him as you wanted, instead opting to palm as much of your ass as he could in each hand.

Massaging each cheek as he used his strength to take some of the pressure off your legs, he groaned desperately into your face, the last bit of speech he would be able to create for the moment as your body became his paradise. “That’s it, pretty girl, fuckin’ use me.”

You ground your hips harder into his pelvis to engage your swollen clit like you couldn’t get enough of the way it felt. Your fingertips tingled with the prickling sensation of them running over the cropped bottom of Simon’s blonde locks as you rode him, every part of you from your head down to your toes in pure bliss. It was overwhelming, intense, mind-numbing, and you did not want it to stop.

You were consumed with the pleasure of him and nothing else.

The desire to kiss again intensified, but the ecstasy running like magma through your veins left you both unable to do little else than to moan and gasp uncontrollably into each other's slack mouths, moist air being siphoned between one mouth into the other. Damp hair clung to the sides of your face and the back of your neck as the muscles in your thighs strained and flesh stuck against sweaty flesh.

Too much, too fucking much, and yet he need even more. Simon could not stand it any longer, the need to drill into you took over him and leaning himself back slightly he held your hips in place as he thrust up into you with strong snaps of his pelvis. The pressure of his cock being forced into your dripping cunt caused wet, slapping sounds to fill the space to accentuate the squeaking now emanating from the springs in his bed.

The pace was now his and by its slowly increasing speed you knew he was getting close; he only got this desperate when he was about to finish. You were right there with him, the stimulation of your clit helping to start that warm tightening in your stomach so that now you were so sensitive it would not take much more from him to send you over the edge.

More aggressively he thrust inside all the way up until he reached the base of his phallus, nearly bottoming out in you the harder he went. It was impossible not to get lost in the feeling of something so silky, so tight, so warm, not when it belonged to someone he needed like air. Goddammit he was aching to come, the struggle about to give out at any minute.

His hand pawed at your face, holding you by the cheek to prop your head up as you bobbed with his thrusts so that those amber eyes could meet yours. “Come with me baby,” he made his grunted plea, “come on, I wanna do this togetha. Are ya close?”

You nodded exaggeratedly to convey the messages since you were still not able to form words. Thrust after thrust he continued to pound into you, each one making that knot in your stomach grow stronger and stronger until finally like the flick of a switch it was over and you cried out as you came all over his cock, shuddering as the electric spark snaked its way up your spine while you sticky juices dripped down to his pelvis.

Simon, having completed his work, finally allowed himself to let go and he came with a fury and a shaky loud groan that ripped out from his chest. His body convulsed as he drained his swollen balls dry. “That’s it, that’s it sweetheart,” he repeated over and over breathlessly as you both rode out that high through to the very end.

You fell forward into him, exhausted and satisfied while he still clung to your body so that his warm breath wafted over your shoulder as he came back down from the ecstasy. He didn't want to let you go and you were more than content to stay nestled in his arms for as long as possible just to feel him. After a moment his sweat-speckled forehead came to rest on your shoulder, his arms never loosening one bit.

“No one ever gets me like this, save for you,” he whispered into your skin before placing a kiss to seal it in. “And no one is ever gonna get the chance now cause I ain’t ever gonna let ya go.”

Eventually his heart rate slowed enough that he could breathe normally again and as he did he eased you both down to the mattress on your sides so that his arms could stay wrapped tight. Against his chest he held you close as his fingers ran long, gentle lines along your spine and up into your hair in a tender gesture that soothed you back down into a calm.

At least your body was, but this was uncharted territory you were dealing with now that you had both made it official to one another and that brought along with it a whole slew of new dilemmas that you would face. And of course, you being the one to always be prepared, couldn’t help but bring up a few in that comfortable post-coital silence that followed.

"You know that we are going to have to be even more careful now," you mused aloud. "What if a recruit tries to hit on me or something? What if I slip up and tell them about us?"

“Doesn’t matter what ya tell 'em. You're taken, so just tell 'em that,” he muttered sleepily as he worked those digits over your skin.

“I don’t think Price is gonna be happy with us if and when he finds out we’re in a relationship,” you commented, still stuck on the line of thinking currently plaguing your mind. "I don't want you to get in trouble or anything, ya kn…."

His strong hands were already wrapped around your cheeks in an instant as Simon leaned into your face to peck your lips to stop you from speaking. “Stop fuckin’ worrin’, sweetheart. I don’t care,” he reassured softly. “We can figure all that shit out later. Right now, I want to lay ‘ere with my girl; fuck the rest. I'm not runnin', not anymore, so there’s plenty of time for us to work this out.”

His girl. His. Yeah, you could get used to him calling you that.

As you snuggled back down against him, you weren’t sure what this new development would bring for you both in the coming days, if it would be a struggle or not, but you knew that nothing could be as hard as not being together. Whatever it was you had to do to preserve this, you would.

Tag list: @ashcarmine @moviefreak1205 @dragonstoneshortcake

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musamora · 11 months

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— 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞.

from anonymous: hello, can i request dazai and fyodor hc's for an insecure s/o?

pairing(s): osamu dazai & fyodor dostoevsky (bungou stray dogs) x f!reader

content warnings: body insecurity, depression, minor partner neglect, protective characters, mentioned nudity, implied/referenced sexual content, social anxiety, panic attacks. implied/referenced murder

author's note: it's good to be back ٩(•͈ ꇴ •͈)و ̑̑❀

summary: these two demons comfort their insecure and anxious partner.

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

These two intelligent masterminds are often preoccupied with plans and schemes, building the world up as the other breaks it apart. However, throughout all their similarities and differences, there is one weakness to their routine stoicism and impassivity.

And that weakness was you.

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 ✧･ﾟ: ━

It had been a long day of slaving over papers at your desk within the confines of the Armed Detective Agency. You had practically been slumped over, hands aching from writing thousands of signatures on the lines of recent accident reports, your wrist slowly dragging until the letters were unrecognizable as a name.

It felt like you had transformed into the worst version of yourself — exhausted, agitated, depressed. And to make matters even worse, you hadn't had an interaction with Dazai that surpassed a handful of pleasantries for days. He had been plagued with missions for the past week, leaving him out beyond regular twilight hours, with his only remaining time used to catch up on sleep. You didn't blame him, though you were surprised to see him so dedicated, but you couldn't help but miss the simpler times when you would silently cuddle and revel in the affection of one another, tangled in each other's arms as you wished to be nowhere else. And with the loneliness came the insecurities.

"Oh, my dearest honey-pie!" Dazai called from across the office; the rest of your co-workers are already accustomed to his high-energy hijinks. He had returned after another mission, though it was luckily a much easier case than the previous.

You sighed, your smile not quite reaching your eyes as you glanced up from the text you had read a thousand times over, turning to the man leaping over like a bunny. But he stopped mid-hop, sliding over with a blank expression as he seemed to inwardly glitch.

"Osamu? Is something wrong?" you mumbled the question through drowsy lips, eyes barely able to concentrate as you felt on the verge of passing out. His eyes narrowed, those beautiful chocolate-brown irises scanning your face with a hum.

"Let's head home early today," he suggested, his large hand pressing against your back, swallowing his frown as he massaged the tense muscles. "Sound good, dear?"

He could immediately tell that something was bothering you, already linking it to his recent absences — he won't admit that he was quite flattered. However, his beloved feeling insecure and unsure of herself is an immediate no-no. And knowing him, he'd address it through a varied expression of pouts and his stern but gentle reassurances.

A part of him cannot believe that you're insecure — not because he doesn't understand the concept, because he logically knows most people will feel insecure once in their life. It's just that, out of the two of you, he feels that he doesn't deserve you and has to constantly remind himself that you chose him. But because he understands your feelings, he is amazing at identifying the origins of any specific insecurities — and pray for the health of anyone who tries to add to them. He was proclaimed the Demon Prodigy for a reason.

Are you insecure about your body? In complete honesty, Dazai believes that the stars were taken from your leftover pieces — someone created so beautifully that they needed to remove parts of you in order to humanize you. You were always a benevolent goddess in his eyes.

So watch you glare at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, eyes raking your nude form with utter hatred and disgust as you thumb at stretchmarks and pull at flesh with eyes like blades, daring to sever them off your body, twisted his heart in sorrow. How could you not possibly see how ethereal you were?

In those moments, he wanted to walk into the room, replace your hands with his own adoring ones, and show you the way to appreciate your body as he did. To make you cry in pleasure as he forced you to look at your own lovely expressions, to melt.

But he knows that isn't always what you need — that it isn't always the best idea to point out your insecurities in such a way. So, instead, he waits. In the dead of night, when you are snuggled in your shared bed under the moonlight, his warm, large hands run underneath your pajamas, leaving sleepy kisses across your sensitive skin as soft giggles were drawn out from your lips as he painted your shoulders, neck, thighs — anywhere he could reach.

"Oh, my sweet darlin'. Your radiance knows no bounds."

Do you have insecurities in social situations? He understands the origins of your anxiety — your world can be incredibly overwhelming — and he is very sympathetic. Whenever you're out together, he watches like a hawk for any possible triggers, checking in occasionally to make sure you're comfortable and calm.

His immediate reaction whenever you've become overwhelmed is to lead you out and away from the situation. Once he has picked up on your tense breathing and nervous expression, he responds accordingly and guides you somewhere to calm down. However, especially with an occupation like yours, that isn't possible. If he isn't able to get you out of the situation, he'll try to be physically near you in some way, resting a hand on your shoulder or back, bracing you in case your knees buckle.

If you still end up having a panic attack, he responds with uncanny and seemingly atypical seriousness, either ushering you away or eliminating the source of your anxiety before drawing you into his arms, acting like a human, weighted blanket as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears, rocking you back-and-forth as he encourages you to match his breathing.

After these attacks, he'd be glued to your side even more than he normally is. Most believe he is simply being obnoxious, but he is always closely looking at your expression and body language, ensuring that you don't dip into another panic.

"It's okay, honey. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

And are you insecure about your relationship itself? If he was honest with himself, he would know the exact reason you'd have insecurities within your relationship. He was never known as the most committed, straightforward, or bluntly loving person towards anyone. He is a flirt and a fool, and at the beginning of the relationship, that never changed when you got together.

However, once he realized the way his behavior made you withdraw into yourself — the sorrow in your eyes when he'd leave in the middle of the night, the way you bit your tongue whenever he flirted with another woman — he finally stopped and took a look in the mirror. You were the best thing that could've ever happened to him, and the fact that his own actions were causing you pain broke his heart. So, for the second time in his life, he changed for a person — for the better.

He stopped flirting with women almost altogether unless a mission required it, focusing each of his cheesy one-liners and proposals to you. But his actions aren't always that obvious. It can be shown through the simple glances he makes towards you throughout the day, engaging you in silly conversations, or holding your hand with his non-dominant one as he pretends to fill out paperwork, mind focused on the patterned taps of phrases in your palm.

And he makes sure, whenever he sees you start to withdraw again, he goes out of his way to take care of you the same way you always lovingly took care of him. Whether that's through going out on a date, staying in to watch movies, or partaking in steamy activities is up to you.

"I've heard that a new restaurant opened up nearby, beautiful. Wanna go?"

𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘 ✧･ﾟ: ━

You hadn't seen Fyodor the entire week.

He had been far too busy planning his next scheme, crammed in his office at his organization's headquarters, far underground in a place that you couldn't locate — he refused to let you be involved in his plans or with the people under his command. So, instead, you had been stuck within your menial routine, waking up to an empty bed, going to work at your exhausting job, and returning to your barren home.

You dropped your stuff unceremoniously onto the coffee table, slumping onto the couch with a groan as your face smushed into the cushions. Not an inch of your body was able to be moved, only turning to cover yourself with a blanket after a couple of minutes, willing yourself not to cry, allowing the soft fabric to swallow you whole. You couldn't even turn on the television despite your hatred for the silence, finding the only shows or movies featured couples relishing their time together, blissfully ignorant to all struggle or strife.

You were becoming a shell of your former self with each passing moment, burrowing further into your body as any happy emotion turned to melancholy, only wanting to hear his voice again. The house was too big for you to remain in alone, and you wouldn't be surprised if the echoes of it creaking onto its foundation made you slowly go mad.

You barely stirred as the front door clicked open, a brief question of whether you locked it coming to mind, but you couldn't find the will to care. Someone circled the room before they approached your body, nimble hands nudging the blanket to get a view of your face.

"Good evening, моя милая," he whispered, breaking the empty air as he traced the tense creases of your eyes.

You melted into his affections, practically nuzzling into his hand, but even those touches didn't seem to be enough to appease your troubled mind. He would only leave, allowing you to wallow in your own anxiety for another week or longer. The black-haired man frowned at your less-than-enthused reaction, twirling the strands of your tangled locks with eyes that you hoped you weren't misconstruing as concern.

"I'll make us some tea, hm?"

Just like Dazai, Fyodor was immediately able to tell that something was wrong the moment he walked through the door. But unlike Dazai, he remains observant, not immediately jumping to comfort and cradle you without analyzing the origins and best possible solution to your current insecurities. And if the source of your insecurities came from someone in particular, he would be quick to eliminate them with uncharacteristic impatience and swiftness.

Because out of all the people on this planet, his perfect other half is not allowed to feel anything but uncontrollably adored.

To him, you are incandescent and divine, above everyone else. So, the fact you have insecurities based on such small, seemingly inconsequential flaws bewilders him. He can be harsh and blunt in his statements, but it's only because he sees you so highly. You are his equal in every way possible.

Are you insecure about your body? Fyodor has a fondness for beauty; it is no secret. He stares upon magnificent pieces of art and illustrative manuscripts of writing with fondness, but it never compares to the way he gazes upon your face. You are the most enchanting woman he has ever laid his eyes upon, even throughout his lengthy travels across the continent — and the notion that you think otherwise disturbs him.

You seem to be so utterly unaware of your own natural allure, too caught up in the smallest components of your appearance to understand that, as a whole, you were a masterpiece unrivaled by all. Too busy prying yourself apart, oblivious to the radiance that followed in your every step.

You are the all-encompassing vision of natural appeal and charm, a sight he partially wished could be replicated across the ends of the earth. But he understands the reason that is impossible. You were born to be swathed in adoration, intimately by him alone, even if he was too proud to admit it. He always became soft-hearted to your lovely smile, such a simplistic expression that stirred his heart in ways never before seen.

He would initially remedy these insecurities through his gifts to you, luxurious silks and soft velvets sewn into clothes that perfectly draped over your figure. Simple accessories that only complement your features.

And his touches would begin to linger, especially surrounding the parts of yourself that you are most insecure about. Sometimes, he waits until you're almost asleep, eyes hazy with lethargy, and he traces your beauty marks and freckles — anything that you perceive as a flaw, caressed with meticulous adoration and devotion.

"Прекрасный, любимая моя. Прекрасный."

Do you have social insecurities? Fyodor would study the roots of your social anxiety, watching every reaction you'd have towards people or noises when you two would be together in public, feeling the way you hold his arm tight like a vice, brows furrowed as you attempted to withhold your panic.

He knows certain elements of situations can be worrisome and cause your pretty mind to overthink, often fearful for the safety of yourself or others. Perhaps it was another trait that drew him towards you; such a human trait it is, that unwavering compassion. And he couldn't help but find it somewhat cute the way you clung onto him, though that's a hint of his pride talking. You are completely capable of defending and protecting yourself, but he doesn't think you should have to do it alone.

He responds to any panic accordingly, although not necessarily by straight-up calming you. With his intelligence and ability to pinpoint your fears, he can quell them with facts, although if he can tell logic won't work, he'll resort to calming you with discrete, simple whispers and light touches, leading you out of the situation as a final fallback.

However, if someone is threatening your safety, he can quickly take care of them through his wit (and a bit of his ability). The audacity someone has to even attempt to bring harm to your happiness and person makes his blood boil. But the fact that they're idiotic to mess with someone under his protection is almost laughable, and they'll soon learn the consequences of their transgressions.

"Don't worry about that scum, любимая. I'll take care of them."

And the basis of any of your insecurities surrounding your relationship itself, he realizes, to his utter dismay, is probably due to his air of outward coldness and apathy. You are his complementary match, understanding his exact thoughts from the smallest changes in his demeanor, drawing out the tiniest trickles of his affections from seemingly minuscule actions. But sometimes that isn't enough — understanding does not equal comprehension.

Certain assumptions through the lens of your own inadequacies, however tiny they may be, shift your view on position and importance in his life. And he will have absolutely none of that.

Fyodor is rarely so straightforward with his love, even in the moments when you are both completely alone — and that doesn't initially change much. However, he is ever-so-slightly more obvious — blunter with his words, letting his touches linger, scheduling his time with you.

And he purposefully leaves clues of his love in plain sight, inconspicuous letters left partially peeking out of drawers, Cyrillic letters drawn across the paper in intricate swoops, waiting for you to translate their true meaning. Of course, you'll have to work for it, but isn't the result all the more sweeter. He may be too prideful to admit it to your face, besides in the hours where you can barely comprehend thought, but he is and always will be completely enamored and devoted to you.

"Ты просматриваешь мои письма, любимая моя? Какой у тебя блестящий ум."

𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗔𝗡 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 —

моя милая = my dear прекрасный, любимая моя. прекрасный. = beautiful, my darling. beautiful. любимая = darling ты просматриваешь мои письма, любимая моя? какой у тебя блестящий ум. = are you looking through my letters, my love? what a brilliant mind you have.

taglist: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @aquigglewigglewoo @kotysluny

#muse's anthology ‧₊˚ ⋅#f!reader #✉︎ ⎼ [anonymous] ‧₊˚#౨ৎ˚ ⎼ [afterhours]#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai bsd

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yanderambling · 2 years

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I'm already loving your posts

what do you think about a yandere assistant and villain reader?

They would be so frustrated because the reader is spending all theirs energies thinking of a plan to capture the hero and not giving them enough attention.

100% would kill the hero behind reader's back

i'm so glad! and yes please i love a jealous little creep, i'm already obsessed <3

concept: Henchman!Yandere(gn) x Supervillain!Reader(gn)

words: ~700

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, stalking, breaking/entering

You look so alluring when you scheme. No earthly or heavenly beauty could compare to the mere sight of you:

The stern concentration pinching your brow just slightly, your arms flexing as you clench and release your fists over and again, your lip idly drawn between your teeth on blessed occasion- it’s enough to make someone bite through their tongue (just partially, and it was only twice).

Tau watches you plan for hours a day (even when they technically have other tasks to carry out), they like to imagine it’s them you’re looking at with such a single-minded focus (perhaps knelt over them on your bed, deciding precisely which ways you want to take them apart).

What they wouldn’t give for just a fraction of the attention you constantly bestow upon that sniveling little “hero”. It’s not even like the hero has done anything to deserve your dedication, not like Tau has.

No, all they did was beat you (which few have ever done). And then… keep beating you (which none have ever done).

Tau knows how much you hate to lose, lower grunts have payed with their lives for Uno games, but… there’s something more to your preoccupation with that vigilante wannabe.

They can see it in the way your bright eyes flick about the room, the way your lips just barely part as you mumble strategy and probability, the way you zone out during meals (that they made for you, naturally) then dart up to your office to test an idea, the way you constantly stay up well into the next morning trying out new inventions and gadgets to take them down- Tau hates to think it, but they know it’s true:

This hero is… motivating you.

As delightful as it is to see you so lively, Tau can’t help the furious jealousy that roils in their gut almost constantly these days.

Why can’t they be the one to make you feel like this? Why can’t they challenge you, inspire you? Why can’t they bring that spark to your eyes?

They should be able to.

They’ve been by your side since the beginning, supporting and encouraging you through every high and low, they know you better than anyone does (yourself included)- and, goddamnit, they deserve it! They’ve given everything to you, and all they ask for in return is a second glance (then a third, then a fourth, then- oh, just stop looking away already!)

It's just not fair- that boot kisser gets every second of your free time, every spare thought, all 'cause they can take (...and deal) a couple hits? (More than a couple; Tau has definitely tried to take them down on many a solo mission, and they've always come out worse for it. They don't wanna talk about it.)

At the very least, they do get to spend a little more time with you, even if it's to watch you obsessively plan for the hero's interruption of your next evil venture.

They're still the one by your side.

They still get to stand at your shoulder and pass you tools as you work on a project (and bite their cheek every time your fingers touch to hold back a moan).

They still get to brush their shoulder against yours while you both stand over a blueprint (and then spend the next fifteen minutes trying not to hyperventilate and/or enter cardiac arrest).

They still get to hang up your cloak after a strenuous mission (and bury their nose in it until the edges of their vision go dark, and lick your sweat off the collar until their tongue is raw, and rub the damp material across their skin until they can feel you all over them).

(They still get to sneak into your bedroom every night with the spare key they made under your nose. They still get to pant over your face as they bask in your glory, as they breathe your breath. They still get to oh so carefully interlace their fingers with your own, intoxicatingly warm ones, they still get to pretend you'd ever want to hold them.)

Yes, they're still very much happy with their position- they'll just be much happier once that nuisance is taken care of.

Then, they can focus solely on aiding you in your endeavor for world domination, and you can focus on what really matters: them!

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #soft yandere #sub yandere #gn yandere #gn reader #henchman yandere #supervillain reader #yandere oc #yandere concept #yandere imagine #yandere requests #requests open #tw yandere

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vintage-london-images · 1 month

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Senate House seen here in 1951, when at the time, it was the tallest office building in London.

This handsome Art Deco building was constructed between 1932 and 1937 as the first phase of a large uncompleted scheme designed for the London University by Charles Holden. It consists of 19 floors and is 210 feet high. After the First World War the University of London, then based at the Imperial Institute in Kensington was in urgent need of new office and teaching space to allow for its growth and expansion. In 1921, the government bought 11 acres of land in Bloomsbury from the Duke of Bedford to provide a new site for the University. However, many within the university were opposed to a move, and, in 1926, the Duke bought back the land. The election of William Beveridge however to the post of Vice-Chancellor of the University in June 1926 was highly significant as Beveridge supported a move to Bloomsbury. Beveridge persuaded the Rockefeller Foundation to donate £400,000 to the University and the original site was reacquired in 1927. During WW11 the building housed the government's Ministry of Information, and returned to its original use after the war ended.

#london history #london life #street scene #social history #architecture #1900s

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gargusscp · 3 months

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Decalog 1: Enigma - "Fallen Angel" by Andy Lane

Cracking through the utter avalanche of Doctor Who books in my backlog and rambling about them on tumblr because this site deserves someone who cares to post about the short story anthologies.

The first of Virgin's anthologies uses a pretty standard set-up for its wrap-around segments, entitled "Playback": Seven has lost his memories, stumbled into a private eye's office in the mid-1940s, and together they seek out the help of a psychometrist, whose visions sparked by assorted objects in the Doctor's coat serve as glimpses into interrelated stories from his past. Obviously I can't judge the thing until through with the book, but Stephen James Walker seems to have an alright imitation of period detective novel descriptive language, and it's neat seeing a guileless Seven when one knows a Virgin-era story means there's some overly-convoluted plan in the wings once his memories return.

As to "Fallen Angel" itself, we kick off with as close a crossover as Lane and Virgin can publish without a lawsuit. The narration most commonly sticks to the thoughts and experiences of one Lucas Seyton, a gentleman thief whose shady family history compels him to give back by robbing the world's rich criminality their ill-gotten gains, for both justice and the fun of it. He aliases under the story's title, leaves a calling card with a little stick figure doodle of himself, brushes elbows with working-class friends who enable his adventures, and lives life to the fullest with no apology for his criminality or compunctions as to its righteousness. His voice is also described in tones evoking Roger Moore. In other words, he's a thinly-veiled analog for Leslie Charteris' popular hero Simon Templar, alias The Saint, and the story is basically Lane bumping him against a fellow 60s British telly alumni so they can exchange banter, save each other's bacon, and generally compliment how brilliant they find the other despite differences in philosophy.

S'not a bad thing by any shot. Seyton's an amiably-written perspective character whose blase attitude and observations about the Doctor's eccentricities are amusing, especially opposite so disheveled an incarnation as Two, and Lane uses the homage as excuse for all the classic pulp adventure staples. Rough alleyway encounters, morning after recuperation and pleasantries, high-flying biplane dogfights, desperate manor-bound shoot-outs, the works. Highly amusing to imagine Troughton bumbling and panicking through the best realizations a mid-60s ITV budget could manage, or exchanging quotations from Winnie the Pooh opposite Moore.

The actual plot of the thing is deliberately incomplete, as you're supposed to piece things together through the whole anthology, though I've a complaint all the same. The Doctor accidentally lands the TARDIS in a manor house that's secretly a Time Lord prison for warmongering aliens whose punishment after defeat was confinement in a convincingly faked forever war, and barely escapes the automated security on his lonesome. All the business with Seyton goes down, the Doctor revealing little details all the while, they bust into the manor, and find the prisoners dead, having killed each other over some petty dispute long ago, their robotic guards still viciously attacking any intruders because the Doctor forgot to program their deactivation if their charges died. It's always irksome to me when Wilderness Era stories decide the increased focus on Seven's machiavellian tendencies means all prior incarnations were equally duplicitous and scheming, cause it never fits how One was written or played to imply he was some brilliant Time Lord mastermind with fingers in all their devious little projects. I know we're stuck with it because "Remembrance of the Daleks" is a classic and the Hand of Omega plot point is super memorable, but I'm a stickler for Doctors feeling right, and this bit ain't it.

(Also it's a Jamie and Zoe-era story in which they barely feature, so boo on that too.)

Beyond a bother introduced by the frame story's needs, I'm happy with this self-indulgent fannish runaround. Nice tribute to the then-recently deceased Charteris. I'd say it's pretty solidly...

GOOD

#Doctor Who #Decalog #Virgin Books #Second Doctor #Seventh Doctor #Andy Lane #Simon Templar

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justsome-di · 1 year

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Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 10

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years. Until his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

You can also read this on AO3, or Patreon (patrons also get chapters a week early along with bonus content). If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, I do have a ko-fi! Or consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!

chapter warnings for eating disorders

Some nights Damián wished he still smoked.

The habit had been comforting. Stepping outside, pulling out a cigarette, cupping his hands around it to light it against the wind. There was routine to it. Whenever he had a bad day, he could always stand on the sidewalk and breathe in the nicotine and tobacco, and it would wash over him like a heavy blanket. It was simple. Easy.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

Stub out ash before his fingers burned.

It always took the edge off his appetite. Whenever hunger pangs were beginning to twist at his insides, he would stand on the stoop of his building and go through cigarettes until his vision lagged when he turned his head, and he could return to his apartment without needing to think about food again for a few more hours.

Christian hated it when they dated. He complained whenever he nuzzled his nose into Damián’s hair and could smell the thick musk of smoke. He refused to stop on their dates so Damián could pick up a new pack, and he would make a point to frown whenever Damián excused him from a room.

But Damián cherished those moments when he stood in the dark, under the single light outside by his apartment's front door. Sometimes he was alone, and he loved the solitude. Sometimes, someone would stand beside him, scrolling through their phone and puffing quickly just to get the buzz going. His neighbor, Danny, would speak to him if he felt like it.

More often than not, Danny didn’t. No matter how often Damián would try to start a conversation, finding joy in annoying the grumpy, older man.

Damián liked sharing cigarettes with clients after appointments. It felt cliche, but he liked that cliche. He liked leaning over, either accepting their flame or flicking it up for them. It was like a bookend to the intimacy. A proper closing.

But he quit smoking years ago. No matter how much he itched to reach for his bedside nightstand now, he knew there wouldn’t be anything to grab. Just a copy of Giovanni’s Room, headphones, and odd pocket change he had no idea where else to scatter.

Damián stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom and thought that he should hang a plant there somewhere. But maybe the ceilings were too high in his apartment. Getting a plant hung up would be one thing but taking care of it would be another. He would have to dust it up there, water it. He would have to climb up to take it down every so often to shower and inspect it.

Still, a spider plant or a pothos would be nice. It would be something to look at rather than dull white paint.

Damián sort of liked being self-destructive. He liked burning up on the inside so intensely and then sizzling out once all of his energy was spent. It was like a sprint.

When his eating thing returned every so often, it was always with some excitement. Some adrenaline. He couldn’t lie to himself. Plans for counting calories and restricting his food always, briefly, gave him something to look forward to. Like he was at the starting line, hands pressed to the hard rubber of the track, legs ready to push himself forward to the finish.

And then, once he settled into the diets, every time, he felt like he lost a part of himself. A stumble. A fall. A roll across the finish line, bruised and skin rubbed raw.

Maybe he’d get lucky someday, and he would be a completely different person.

He didn’t know why he fell into fits of enjoying his self-destruction except he guessed he liked the idea of one day someone coming up to him and, seeing his pain, offering to help.

If he suffered enough that someone noticed, he might feel like he had permission to cry. If someone saw him in pain, then that meant that someone saw him. Someone was seeing him and noticing him, and they cared enough to take him in his arms.

They would see all of him.

They would see him as a mess. They would see all of his flaws.

But it never happened.

When someone did mention it—the fact that he was pushing his food around, that he was claiming a little too often that he had already eaten—he brushed it off. When Leo asked for the second time if he was sure he didn’t want dinner, Damián thought that it wasn’t fair to burden his little brother with his problems. Diego was just a client, and Damián couldn’t break the illusion he paid for.

Danny, across the hall, was all rough edges, and he was never sure what to say, though Damián was certain he noticed his fluctuating weight. A hesitant flick of a cigarette to knock off ash. A long look up and down. But Danny never said anything.

Christian had his own problems, and the two of them had been caught in a spiral of enabling each other.

Alex—

Alex would be out of his life soon enough. It didn’t matter what Alex thought or did.

Damián hadn’t found the right person to save him yet, apparently.

And he never got so bad that a complete breakdown would demand attention and energy from someone around—something he really wanted. He wanted to absolutely implode on himself so that someone would rush to him and be forced to take him all in.

Once, with Christian, he got close. One particular bad week led to a fight and then their breakup. Christian was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t see Damián’s cries for help. He didn’t see that Damián’s sudden moodiness, his need to get a rise out of Christian, was him begging him to stay and work things out and just hold him.

Damián just wanted to be told it would be okay. That a fight had an ending. That he should really try to eat something.

Instead, Christian responded with his own hurt. His own need to be told that things would be okay. His own implosion that was demanding attention that Damián didn’t have.

And Damián guessed that that just happened sometimes. They added fire to one another. They burned bright together. It was inevitable that one day they would consume and engulf everything around them until there was nothing else.

Damián wished he still smoked. He would kill for a cigarette, the musky smell of burning nicotine. He wanted to choke. He wanted to stand in front of the building and have his and Danny’s ash mix on the ground before they turned back inside, silent.

It would kill the hunger pang gnawing at his insides.

Damián’s phone buzzed against his pillow. He heard it, muffled but strong, through his cheek.

He grabbed it, hoping it would be a text that could distract him from his spiral.

An update is ready. Restart your phone.

He swiped the notification away and returned his eyes to the ceiling. There was no one left, he presumed, to check in on him. And maybe that was his fault. People didn’t flock to forest fires when they refused to stop burning.

A pothos would be nice. Right in the corner of his room. A pothos and a step stool.

#nobody ends up dead #Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub Everyone Keeps Their Organs #writblr #writeblr #queer fiction #gay fiction #writing community #original fiction #mlm #mlm fiction #original writing #Original Work

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maffickingcowplants · 6 months

Text

Day 3 of 7, Winter 2005 After weeks of endless responsibilities and demands, Bella's mother Jocasta knew exactly what her daughters needed - a girls' night out. Jocasta invites Bella and her sister-in-law, Dina, out for a simple night of fun and freedom - no husbands allowed.

As they step into the vibrant energy of the dance club, the music pulsates through the air, wrapping them in a rhythmic embrace. The neon lights cast colorful shadows on their faces, but fails to mask the joy and excitement that they feel. For Dina, it was a much needed escape from the beautiful yet demanding life of a new mom. But for Bella - work is never far away, and the mission is always ever present. Even on the dancefloor she felt the pressure - and that is when she saw him, forgetting in the moment that he wasn't just the boy she went to school with, the boy married to one of the most powerful families in Simlandia… watching her dance, waiting for a moment to catch her eye.

Agent Sentinel, aka Geoffrey Landgraab, approached Bella cautiously with an invitation to dance. Bella's missions rarely overlap Agent Sentinel's own as he is in deep cover and tasked with monitoring the head of the Landgraab family. In a hushed tone, he conveyed to Bella that he had some information for her that may help her - and that he was advised by the head office to tell her in person.

"Listen, Bella," Geoffrey began, his voice low to avoid eavesdropping ears. "I may have discovered who helped build the lab, there were high-ranking officials in the military involved, as well as the mayor. I've managed to extract bits and pieces of the dealings. There's more."

But here, Bella stops him and they leave the dance floor for a drink and a deserted corner of the dance club. Geoffrey resumes, "I've discovered that Roswell had been pushing for StrangerVille to be more technologically advanced, and he made backroom deals to construct the crater base and underground lab - Nancy had blueprints in her office, along with transaction reports, all paid to Landgraab shell companies. There were also messages that alluded to experiments, and specimen procurement. She must have helped Roswell with the construction - but I have not found how she benefits from the construction. Apex has instructed Specter to assist me in learning what Nancy stands to gain from the lab's construction. Apex filled me in on what is down there. I think the Landgraabs have a lot riding on this, and I'm not just talking about the family fortune."

As they parted, Bella to return to her family and Geoffrey to return to his vigil, Geoffrey subtly slips a small encrypted USB drive into Bella's hand. "This contains what I've managed to gather so far. It might have some leads for you." The Mother Plant, it seemed, was not merely a botanical anomaly but a nexus of intrigue, drawing in even the criminal underbelly of StrangerVille. The coded exchanges suggested that Nancy, knowingly or unknowingly, might be a pawn in a larger scheme involving the otherworldly entity.

Posts about Bella: « PREVIOUS / BEGINNING / NEXT »

Posts about Operation Mother's Influence: « PREVIOUS / BEGINNING / NEXT »

#sims 4 #sims4 #sims 4 legacy #the sims 4 #the sims4 #simblr #the sims #the sims 4 story #goth legacy #my sims #ts4 #ts4 story #ts4 legacy

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thebrotherscurtis · 1 year

Text

“Imposter”

Links: AO3. FF.net. Wattpad. Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns all characters. Summary: Two years after the accident, Darry still can’t reconcile his roles as brother and parent. Post-book, Darry-centric fic.

Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, don’t kill him.

No, death might be too merciful for whatever Pony’d done to get suspended an entire week. Worse yet, the secretary wouldn’t tell me why. Just said it was a conversation best had in person.

Well, here I was now face-to-face with Principal Brown for the first time since junior year. I tried to suppress the memories, but sitting across from that stoic face sent me back to age sixteen. Lord, was I a dumbass. Cutting class with Paul, hiding behind the football bleachers, passing a joint between us, taking swigs from his old man’s flask … We wasted two hours before a janitor caught us and chased our asses straight to the principal’s office.

Maybe I was meant to remember, though. Humble me. Remind me whatever Pony’d done couldn’t be worse.

“Always nice to see you, Darrel.” Mr. Brown flashed a phony smile. “I hope you’re doing well.”

He hoped nothing , the way his eyes widened real big when I walked in. He was anticipating someone put together, someone professional, someone who was going places, the very someone I was back in senior year. Anyone but me. Decked in a tattered uniform, reeking of tar and sweat, I’d aged a decade in two years.

“Doing fine, sir.” I forced a grin and extended my hand to shake his.

He grimaced, staring me down like I was some kind of disease, and kept his hands neatly folded atop his desk. “Glad to hear,” he said, phony smile returning.

“All right, what’d he do?” I demanded, no longer able to maintain a polite facade. “It’ll save us both time if you cut straight to the worst of it.”

“Darrel Curtis, I may no longer be your principal, but you will still treat me with respect.”

“Yeah, there’s a funny thing about respect.” I looked him straight in the eye, refusing to let him think he’d humiliated me. “It goes both ways.”

“Indeed, I’ve shown you respect, and now I expect the same in return.” He combed through a stack of papers for a few moments and glanced up. “For starts, should we ever need to conference again, show up in clothes that aren’t soiled. This is a school, not a barnyard.”

“Well, excuse me, your highness, for not having the time to change into a tuxedo,” I snapped. “I didn’t realize I was having a meeting with the king.”

“Cut right to the worst of it, huh?”

I nodded. “I’m missing an hour of work to be here. Make it worth my time.”

“Mrs. Morris caught your brother writing another student’s paper last week.”

"That all?”

“Surely, you understand the severity of academic dishonesty.”

“Of course, I do. Just seems harsh for one lousy paper.” The urge to defend Pony grew stronger and stronger with each passing second. “You suspended him an entire week for that?”

“Believe me, I wish it were one paper. Here.” He pushed a stack of papers in front of me—dozens and dozens of them. “Take a look and see for yourself.”

I glanced down and back up. “He wrote all of this?”

“Most of it, yes,” he explained. “His scheme involved many students, or should I say, customers. In short, your brother was making a business out of completing other students' work.”

“C’mon, this ain’t even his handwriting.” I sifted through the so-called evidence and held up a paper with penmanship worse than Soda. “This.” I shook it and slapped it back down on the desk. “This proves nothing.”

"Mimicking handwriting was part of his business plan."

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

"No, I have it on good accord he was advertising his ability to forge handwriting.”

“Look, I mean no disrespect.” I meant all the disrespect in the world. “ It just sounds far-fetched, like something out of a movie.”

“Believe me, I know,” he acknowledged. “Let’s just say in my twenty-five years in education, this is the worst case of plagiarism I’ve ever seen. We’ve been investigating it all week. Must’ve been quite the lucrative business given a grand total of twenty-nine students admitted they paid him to do their work. Well, twenty-nine that we know of. I wouldn’t be shocked if we uncover more.”

“So that’s your schtick—encouraging kids to nark?”

He snatched the papers back from me and tucked them in a folder. “We interviewed several students, and yes, out of necessity, we offered a plea deal of sorts. In exchange for information, a chance to redo the plagiarized assignments.”

“That sounds shady,” I concluded. “If I were failing a class and you told me I could redo the assignment, I’d throw a kid under the bus, too.”

“I don’t think you understand how serious this is,” he rattled on. "The English department is having a heck of a time cleaning up the aftermath, and I wish I could tell you English was the only department impacted. He was writing lab reports, history essays, you name it."

"Christ, that’s ridiculous." I raked a hand through my hair, fighting the urge to storm right out of the office. “I know plagiarism ain't a laughing matter. I know you could justify flunking him if it's true, but we’re talking about a kid who can barely remember to brush his teeth or put on his shoes before he leaves the house. There's no way. You expect me to believe he single-handedly pulled this off?”

“I’m not sure what to tell you other than all fingers point back to him.”

“Because you bribed everyone to rat him out.”

“We had to,” he insisted. “With so many students implicated, we had no other choices. Now you can chew me out all you want, but it won’t matter. He already fessed up this morning.”

“Probably only because you had him framed. What kind of plea deal did you offer him?”

“Suspension instead of expulsion.”

Expulsion. Fuck. The word settled in my stomach like a bolt of lead and knocked the bravado right out of me. “So, suspended a week?” I sat up a bit straighter, wishing I were dressed more like Paul’s father than my own. “This ain’t gonna affect his grade or nothing?”

“We considered failing him for each class in which this occurred, but when we did the math, it would amount to failing two grades of high school.”

Might as well expel him at that point. I swallowed the remainder of my pride and spat out the sincerest apology I could muster. “I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have lost it with you. I’m sure you have his best interest at heart.”

He didn’t and never would, but if my outburst tipped him over the edge, if my outburst dared him to flunk Pony, I’d never forgive myself. Pony would graduate. I might fuck up parenting in every other regard, but I wouldn’t fuck that up.

“I assure you, we all do,” he told me, tone anything but genuine. “His teachers are furious, but none of them, not a single one, wants him to flunk out of high school. We’re making an exception. Suspended one week starting today and a month’s worth of detention upon his return.”

“So his grades won’t be impacted? His As will remain As?”

“If he had As, then yes,” he agreed. “Completing everyone else’s assignments doesn’t leave much time for your own.”

“Thank you, sir. I mean that. Thank you for not flunking him.

“I couldn’t justify it when he has such a bright future ahead of him, and thank God for that, considering what he came from.”

What he came from. God, he’d said the same thing to me junior year—that I had a chance, one I shouldn’t squander—and I’ll never forget how he read me the Riot Act and let Paul off with a light tap on the wrist. Out of concern, he’d claimed, concern my old man didn’t care about my academic future.

“I’m worried about him,” Mr. Brown continued, voice oozing in feigned concern, “and what kind of home environment he’s coming home to.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. He’s in good hands, I promise.”

“I want to trust you, but you hadn’t the faintest clue this was happening. What else are you missing?”

“You don’t have to worry,” I repeated. “If anything, I’m too hard on him.”

“Not hard enough, I’d say.” He shook his head firmly. “If he were my kid, I’d put the fear of God in him before it got worse.”

And here came the unsolicited parenting advice.

“Keep closer tabs on him, and do something about that attitude,” he suggested. “Pony was anything but remorseful with me this morning, and he’s been lipping off to his teachers, too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” I assured him. “I’ll shape him up so good you won’t even recognize him when he returns.

“I hope you will.” And with that, Mr. Brown stood up and shooed me to the door. “That was all we needed to discuss today, Darrel. Now if you’ll excuse me now, I have a meeting in five minutes.”

“I’ll handle it,” I reiterated as he closed the door. “Don’t you worry. I’ll handle everything.”

I’d handle it all right, but how?

“Thank you for coming in on such short notice, Darrel,” Mr. Brown’s secretary said. “I’ll call Ponyboy down to the office, and you can take him home.”

I said nothing. Just gave her a slight nod, so she’d know I’d heard her.

My mother used to tell me if I had nothing nice to say to say nothing at all, and I should’ve followed that advice with Mr. Brown. One call to the state would land us in hotter water than we’d ever been in. I knew that, and I knew our caseworker would believe any lie from his lips before she’d listen to me.

I knew that, and my temper still got the best of me.

xxxxx

The drive home was dead silent. Mom used to fall quiet like that when we’d really pissed her off—keep us in suspense until the punishment felt like mercy. Maybe that was what I was going for, but truth be told, I didn’t know what to do, or what to say, or how to punish him.

“Go to your room,” I ordered the moment we set foot in the house.

“Ain’t you gonna yell at me?”

“I dunno yet.” I shrugged and stabbed a finger at his door. “Go. Now.”

“Fine.”

“And wait for me,” I added, trying to sound intimidating, but that brat still slammed his door three times. “I heard that, you little shit.”

“Good.”

“Jesus, what happened?” Soda asked before I could even sit down.

“None of your business.”

“What happened?”

“I said none of your damn business.”

“Look, if you won’t tell me, I’ll march right into his room and ask him myself.”

“I’ll tell you later.” I hurled myself facedown into the couch. “Let me take a nap first.”

“Or you could tell me now.” He took a seat on the coffee table and poked my arm until I sat up. “I ain’t bluffin’. You wanna tell your side of the story first, you better start talking.”

“For the love of all that’s holy, little buddy,” I hissed. “Give me a break. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“How ‘bout the beginning?” he pressed on. “Seems as good a place to start as any.”

“Sometimes you piss me off even more than him.”

“Right back at you.”

I gave his shoulders a light shove and tried to walk away, but he pushed me back into the couch twice as hard. “Start talking, Superman.”

“Fuck this.” I chucked both throw pillows across the room. “Fuck him, fuck you, fuck everything, but fuck you especially. Go ask him. I’m tired.”

Soda retrieved the pillows and hurled them at my face one by one. “Too bad. I’m only asking you now.”

Fuck off, I muttered under my breath yet relented. “He’s suspended a week and has detention for an entire month after that. Happy now?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And you’ll never guess what he did,” I said. “Not in a million years.”

“Well, If I had to guess, I’d say shit finally hit the fan on that business he and Curly were trying to run.”

“Curly?!” I scoffed. “I mean, yeah, they nailed him for plagiarism, but I didn’t hear shit all about Curly.”

“Yeah, he recruited the customers,” Soda stated as if it were front-page news to everybody except me. “That was their agreement. Curly found the students, Pony did their homework, and they split the profit 50/50. I told ‘em both it was a stupid idea.”

“And when were you planning on telling me this?” I demanded. “I can’t believe you knew.”

“I thought I’d convinced him not to go through with it,” he continued. “Told ‘em it was dumb and Pony agreed, but then he started staying up later, claiming he had all this homework. He said it was all his, but I knew better. For a smart kid, he’s kinda a dumbass sometimes, huh?”

“Nah, not this time at least.” I sighed, finally admitting I was impressed. “It’s brilliant, honestly. Damn, I could’ve made a killing if I’d dreamed up something half that wild. You know how many football players would sell their left kidney for someone to write their English paper? I don’t know if I should kill him or congratulate him.”

“Y’all talking about me?” Pony piped up from the corner.

“I thought I sent you to your room.” I shot him a stern look and pointed back at his door. “Get your ass back in there.”

“Yeah, well, I heard you hollering at Soda and had to see what was up.”

“Nothing’s up,” Soda lied. “Go back to your room.”

“If you’re both gonna yell at me, you might as well do it now.”

“Fine,” I said. “Tell me about Curly.”

“Soda already explained it,” Pony replied. “I told Mr. Brown it was all my idea, so he’d lay off him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Soda laid into him before I could even open my mouth. “You should’ve saved your own ass and told him it was all Curly’s idea. I thought he dropped out anyway.”

“Nope. Tim made him go back. Figured it’d keep him on the straight and narrow and out of juvie.”

“Hey, not a half-bad idea.” I glanced at Soda. “I oughta send your ass back to school. Keep you out of trouble.”

“Shut up,” Soda growled and turned back to Pony. “Look, I know you ain’t the type to rat out your friends, and I respect that, but I’m begging you just this once…”

“Nope.” Pony shook his head in staunch refusal. “Not a chance in hell. Besides, I couldn’t blackmail him if I did that.”

“Blackmail him?” Soda asked.

“Yeah. I told him he had to give me half his portion of the profits, or I’d tell Tim.”

“Tell Tim what?” I asked.

“Beats me.” Pony shrugged. “Just said I’d tell Tim, and that’s all I had to say.”

And what I wouldn’t give for him to fear me like that. What I wouldn’t give to live in a universe where I’ll tell Darry meant something to him.

“Don’t get too excited,” I said. “You’re putting all that cash in a college fund. Every last cent.”

Without a word, he rolled his eyes and started walking toward his room.

“I’m talking to you, Ponyboy Michael,” I called after him. “Get back here.”

“We ain’t even close to done,” Soda added.

“You both sent me to my room, so I’m going there.” And with that, he slammed his door a fourth time.

Soda stared at the door for a moment and turned back to me. “You asked me if you should congratulate him or kill him … I say kill him. Definitely kill him.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I planted my face back into the couch cushions and shoved the pillows over my head. “Tomorrow,” I mumbled into the fabric. “Tomorrow, I’ll kill him.”

#the outsiders #outsiders #outsiders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #curly shepard

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tragicromanceisland · 2 years

Text

What Happens in Wonderland, Remains

Character x female reader

A/N: I'm trying to upload all the chapters I have written so far. As well as the newest chapter. Though I'll be posting it on Ao3 first. As this is cross posted. I hope you have enjoyed reading thus far. 💖

Chapter Thirteen

Leona had told you that until you found a place you liked, you were welcome to stay with him. Ruggie explained at breakfast that he often came over in the mornings to make sure Leona was up and made him breakfast before he heads out to practice. Ruggie invited you out to come with them, but you decided it would probably be best if you weren’t seen with Leona so soon. At least until the gossip died down.

So you were on Leona’s computer with his – with permission – trying to search for places you liked. Leona told you he didn’t care how much it cost as long as you liked it. You knew he had a very carefree view about money. Unfortunately, you weren’t like that. You didn’t want the most expensive things in life. You would be happy with a modest living space, and if you could get in touch with Grim, you knew you could probably be able to find some work. You just had a feeling. Plus, you missed your small cat-like companion you had for years.

Though if it was true, and Grim was with Malleus, you wondered why Grim would agree to stay with him? Did Malleus offer him a ton of tuna? You could see him following for a scheme like that. You sighed as you typed in another realtor site. Some you had already found you thought were great until you saw the location. You didn’t want to have to rely on anyone, if you could find something you could use public transportation or even walk it would be ideal.

You leaned back in the chair as you ran a hand over your face. It then dawned on you that you might be more in the spotlight now, with the gossip spreading. Though Leona seemed sure that it would disappear. You wouldn’t be surprised if the royal family had a lawyer already on it to stop the slander and accusations. Though you were sure it was the same with Vil, even though it was probably handled under his PR manager. You were sure Vil wasn’t pleased since it would be easier to quell the questions with yes you were his fiancée. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. You stared at the screen as you saw the thumbnails with several potential apartments.

You glanced at the time and noticed it’d been almost two hours since Ruggie and Leona had left. You pondered how long his spell drive practices lasted. You shook your head, no, you were getting distracted by everything going on in your life, and you needed to focus on this before you sorted out all this information.

You went back to the task at hand and opened the ones you liked in separate tabs. After twenty more minutes passing, you had ten potential places you wanted to go look at. They were moderately priced, and you were sure if you began working, you could easily afford to stay there. It was a lot to consider, though surely there were jobs in this world that non-magic users could obtain. So even without Grim, even though you would love to have him as your partner again, you would be able to survive here. Just like when you first arrived, there was no guarantee you would easily be able to return, especially since you appeared at an entirely different location this time.

You were concerned about the possibility of not being able to return. You felt tired just thinking about it. You were kind of hungry, too. You stood up from the computer desk and stretched before walking out of the office and toward the kitchen. Surely Leona had something in here you could throw together and cook. Searching through the pantry and fridge, you found something that sounded delicious to you. You found a hair tie and pulled your hair up into a ponytail and washed your hands before you began to cook.

The ingredients were as high quality as the ones Vil had. You recalled a brief memory of you and Vil cooking in his kitchen. You frowned as your eyes lowered while you began slicing vegetables. All those little moments you had spent with Vil had meant something to you. It wasn’t like you hated him. He had every reason to be upset. You had become really close to Vil in the past two months. You were almost melancholy at the thought of it repeating with Leona, but the thing is, Leona was giving you freedom to find your own place. You were certain Vil could have offered you the same. Instead, it was as aaif he wished to keep you in a golden cage and lavish you with all the beautiful things he could give you. Though there was nothing like that, you felt trapped in a sense.

You shook your head and finished slicing the vegetables. You then heated up a pan with oil and began to sauté the food. You measured out water and rice and placed it in a rice cooker. As you sautéed the vegetables, you added beef base and hot water with a pinch of corn starch as well. The rice cooker finished steaming the rice when you heard Leona pulling into the garage. You hoped he wouldn’t mind that you were cooking. Leona had a nice kitchen if you were honest, the dark granite counter tops, rich mahogany cabinets, and high-end appliances.

The door opened from the garage, and Leona’s emerald eyes met with yours. His steely gaze then left you as he moved past you like it was nothing. Ruggie followed in after him, carrying his gear, phone, and a few bags.

“Hey Leona, don’t forget to call your brother!”

He grunted in response as he slammed his bedroom door shut. Ruggie sighed.

“Oh hey (y/n) whatcha cooking? It’s smells great.”

“Thanks, I made enough for all of us if you want to stay for lunch?”

“Man, how lucky am I today. Never thought I’d get to try you’re cooking.”

You laughed.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“If you say so. Well, I gotta put these things away…I guess.” He huffed, annoyed as he walked off and went somewhere else in the house.

You arched a brow. You wondered what Leona’s brother was calling about. You briefly checked online earlier, and the articles about your and Leona’s relationship spread further throughout the internet. Now the reporters are saying you were trying to make Leona jealous by attending the gala, and that’s why he rushed out of the event with you in his arms. Even though he only did that because you had almost fallen down. You sighed as you finished up the meal and kept it on simmer to keep it warm while Leona showered, and Ruggie was busy doing what he needed to for Leona as his manager.

You wondered if Farena was upset with Leona being caught up in this speculation of being in a relationship or if it was something else. You wondered how Cheka was doing. You smiled to yourself as you recalled the adorable five-year-old from years ago. Cheka should be around nine years old now. You were curious how much he had grown in that time.

“What’re you grinning about over there?”

You blinked as you turned your head to see Leona a towel wrapped around his waist. You raised your brows, and your pupils widened as you took in his gorgeous physique. Your brain short circuited as you tried to find the words to say. Wait, what was I thinking about? Oh no? You turned your back to him, and Leona held that famed smug smirk.

“Heh, what’s the matter…”

You placed a hand on your forehead. You were dreaming right, Leona did not just walk out of his bedroom in just a towel. His body and hair were not still dripping with water. That’s not what you saw.

“I know you’re not that shy.”

You shuddered from his proximity.

“Leona…what are you doing?” You whispered.

You turned around to face him. Oh, that was the wrong choice.

He pressed you back against the counter one arm place beside your head, his hand on the cabinet behind you. The other hand resting on the edge of the granite counter as he trapped you with his body. His emerald eyes held a hint of mischievous as he bowed his head down to your ear.

“You’re in my way.”

“Huh?”

He held a bored expression.

“You’re standing in front of the cabinet I keep my cups in.”

You felt embarrassed as you side-stepped, and he pulled out a glass and proceeded to get a glass of water. You felt like such an idiot of course. He wasn’t going to make a move on you. Not with Ruggie here. You hung your head ashamed. What was wrong with you? You were practically steaming from embarrassment.

Ruggie walked back into the kitchen and noticed the situation. Leona casually drank while you stood off to the side, your hands covering your face. Ruggie lifted a brow. Well, he wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but he could feel some sort of tension.

“Leona, once you get dressed and we sit down for lunch I really think you should call your brother. Before she calls.”

Leona sighed.

“Fine, stop naggin’ me.” He grumbled as he walked off to his room, brushing his tail over your arm as he passed you.

You jerked your head up to see Leona giving you a side smirk. He was totally doing this to you on purpose just to mess with you!

Sitting at the table, Leona was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants as the three of you sat at the table eating. Ruggie was talking about the next Spell Drive season. Leona was occasionally nodding, though you doubt he was listening. He seemed distracted by whatever he was thinking about as he was scrolling through his phone. You were staring at your plate as you took bite by bite, slowly cleaning your plate. Leona’s phone rang, he tsked. You glanced up as you noticed he seemed agitated as he answered the phone.

“Yes…?”

You could hear the woman on the other line as Leona pulled the phone away with a blank stare. You could hear her scolding him about not being more responsible, not doing this or that, and then finally he pulled the phone back to his ear. She seemed calmer now.

“He does?”

You knew his sister-in-law was just concerned about Leona.

“Funny you say that…”

Leona’s eyes met with you, again the gleam of mischievousness reflecting in the emerald color of his irises. You lowered your eyes back to your plate. Ruggie arched a brow, looking back and forth between the two of you.

Ruggie knew you and Leona had history, but this seemed like you were crushing on him all over again. Then again, his eyes shifted to Leona. Even Leona seemed to be falling for you all over again. He was sure Leona never stopped feeling what he held for you. No…he knew that was the case. His sister-in-law tried setting him up numerous times while you had been gone. Leona ruined every single one of those dates. Whether it was from speaking too bluntly or falling asleep the moment they began talking about himself. Ruggie had been the unfortunate tag along on every date he had. It was painful to watch. He felt sorry for those women. Then again, the only one beside him who knew Leona had it bad for you was his nephew Cheka. To the point Cheka even started getting on Leona’s nerves because he kept bringing you up in conversation.

Leona hung up the phone. He was irritated. He couldn’t say no. He was hoping he could have talked himself out of seeing them again. Except this time, he had no reasonable excuse. He had no choice but to accept his sister-in-law’s request of bringing you to meet his family. He flit his eyes to you, watching as you picked at your rice. Would you be able to handle his family? A rumble emitted in his chest. He wasn’t sure why they had to meet you. Wasn’t it good enough that he was telling them your name? No, they wanted to see you. Hadn’t they already seen you from the photos online. Then again, they blurred your face it wasn’t exactly a good photo, but it was good enough.

He knew they would nag him about settling down. It was so frustrating. He didn’t have to follow his brother’s footsteps. It’s not like it would do any good. He could get married, and his potential wife could produce an heir, and yet it wouldn’t mean anything. Would they receive the recognition they deserved? No. As long as Farena was alive, as long as his nephew was alive. He would never have any worth in this family where the first born in the family was always recognized. His family aside, he had concerned a possibility of marriage. He found himself observing you again. When your eyes met his gaze, he felt his heart flutter. He clenched the fork in his hand tighter as he averted your watchful eye.

The possibility of him settling down…

A brief picture of a future with you, he saw it.

A summer day beneath the shade of a large tree, enjoying a leisurely picnic, you lovingly stroking his cheek while gazing at him with devotion and appreciation. Like he was the king of your world. And how wonderful you would look with a baby bump.

“…na? Leona?”

Ruggie snapped his attention back from his reverie. Leona’s eyes flit to Ruggie’s. Ruggie sighed.

“You need anything for tomorrow? I’m going to run some errands before I head home?”

Leona placed his fork across his plate and stood up.

“No. I’m tired, so I’m gonna lay down, you’re free to do what you wish (y/n).” He waved his hand as he walked off to his room and closed the door behind him. He laid down on his bed as he stared at his ceiling.

That possibility was solely dependent on you.

Ruggie glanced over at you.

“Well, wanna get out of the house? Leona did mention picking you up a phone. He gave me his wallet too so it’s no problem.”

You arched your brow as you glanced at the now closed bedroom door. You wondered if he was okay.

“Sure, it would be good to get out.”

Ruggie grinned. “Let’s go shopping, shee hee hee.”

#twisted wonderland #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #x female reader #《🦋writes 》

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