#task 02. what's in your bag | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhard · 6 months ago

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⋆˙⟡ monster | lee heeseung

: when two rivals in an entertainment company turned late-night lovers, no strings attached… or is it something else?

pairing: ceo!l.hs x fem!reader

CW: smut, enemies to fwb to lovers trope??, pwp (3 smut scenes omg), hate sex, age gap: heeseung is 29, reader is 24, usage of condoms, riding, oral sex (both receiving), cum eating, some pet names, insults?, lots of profanity lmk if i missed anything

notes: couldn’t stop thinking about this while listening to monster by gaga. crazycrazy

wc: 7.3k words (MDNI)

There was only one thing you hated more than useless things in your timetable. It was the asshole of the whole company, Lee Heeseung. The more conversations you heard his name in, the more you despised his existence.

His ego was so high it could hit a plane, the way he would talk about his compositions made you wanna throw up. He praised himself so much, and you started wondering if he was just a huge narcissist or if we were insecure of his writing skills. Luckily, you never saw him around often as you were really caught up in your own work. Having to compose songs all the time for singers was not an easy task. Your chairman was an even bigger asshole than Heeseung, always giving you all the work. You had to not only compose songs from start to finish, but you also had to edit and mix the voices, help the singers use the right tones and so much more stuff that wasn’t originally included in your job plan.

Usually, you would stay at the office overtime, your eyes darkened with tiredness. It was a miracle you haven’t fallen asleep all this time.

You looked at the time,

[01:54 AM]

“Great.” You sigh. Your shift ended at 12 AM. What the fuck are you still doing here? It’s quiet in the whole building, only clicking sounds can be heard from your keyboard. You’re all alone with a few bodyguards left in the company. You groan, your head pounding from the intense light of your pc. All you want now is to get back to your apartment just to greet your cat Juno. He’s your only best friend in this cursed city of New York, he’s a soft and fluffy black and white cat, with heterochromia eyes, left eye blue and right eye brown. You talk to him all the time, even though he can’t hold conversations he’s the best listener you’ve ever encountered. Better than your ex-boyfriends, that’s for sure.

As the clock reads [02:29], you’re more than ready to go home. You gather all your things, wish a great night to all the security people there and finally get out of that stupid building. You get your car keys out of your bag, driving home in your black i8. When you get home you feed your cat, finally plopping in your bed and falling asleep instantly.

You woke up due to your phone ringing at around 10 am with the hugest headache you’ve had. You palm your forehead, grabbing your phone with your other hand. Your co-worker, Yena, is calling you. You pick up as fast as you can, moaning into the phone due to being exhausted out of your mind.

“Yeah… Yena hey….” You say with half a mouth.

“Hey girl, are you coming to work? Today’s the showcasing, have you forgotten?”

Oh, fucking hell. You totally forgot.

A showcasing happens when all composers need to show the work they did in a few months’ time. You need to turn in all the songs you’ve made in this time, whilst competing with your other co-workers to be the best one, getting the title of the best songwriter of the month. Your company likes making leaderboards, only adding onto your stress of being the best. Of course, last month’s songwriter was Heeseung, but you thought the judges were so biased over him… you knew you could take him down this month.

“Right… I’ll be there soon just let me get ready.” You say, already dreading the idea of getting out of bed.

She hangs up, letting you wash up quickly. You fix up your hair, put on your suit and do a bit of makeup. You get your badge with your name on it and out you are. By the time you arrive at the company you’re already late… the higherups there scolding you for it.

“Please try to make it on time, you know how important this is.”

You sigh. How could they expect you to be there early when you went home at almost 3 AM last night?

“Okay, okay I’m sorry. I’m here now.” You add.

After you come out of your office to get your suitcase that had your files, you bump into the last person you wanted to see there. He throws you a cheeky smile, not even apologizing for giving you a shoulder.

“Oh, if it isn’t the famous miss L/n! Ready to get your dreams crushed by my songs again?” you scoff at him, crossing your arms. “Yeah right, like I’d let a scumbag like you take my title. I don’t have anything to prove to you, stay in your lane.”

He raises his eyebrows at your response, as you would normally walk away if he told you anything. “Oh is it miss complaint now? Let me actually show you how this job is done, im your ceo for a reason.” he suddenly stops smiling to give you a glare.

“You don’t intimidate me Mr. Lee, right on the contrary, you make me want to laugh.” you say and turn around, not wanting to waste your time with such a man. His sleek smile creeps back onto his face as he walks into his own office.

A few minutes later, you get back to the front, everyone already waiting there with their work. You stand next to Yena, holding the tank of papers in hand tightly.

Yena could tell you’re nervous, so she extended one hand up to yours just to squeeze it, calming you down a bit. Your other co-workers were not a threat at all, but Heeseung was the one person you wanted to bring down. You wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face. After much judging and testing, with recitals and rehearsals for the songs, the judges finally decided the points accorded to the candidates. The others already had way too little points to worry you, but you, Yena and Heeseung were left.

“Choi Yena, 127 points.” She sighed of relief. A sizeable number overall, but now it depends on what you and Heeseung did.

“Lee Heeseung, 140 points.” His eyes widen. There is a chance that you might win. You might take him over… You might take his place. No way, right?

After a good minute of silence, they finally list your points.

“L/n Y/n, 139 points.” You almost fall to your knees. Out of all chances, how could this happen to you?? You close your eyes and cover your ears before you go insane.

You let him win, again.

“Therefore, our winner this month will be Lee Heeseung, the winner of the last 3 months as well, Congratulations!” all you hear is buzzing in your ears. You grow sour of his name, of his voice, his face. You can’t stand his dumb mouth, dumb face, dumb voice. You can’t stand him at all, and you would do anything to see him fired or something. You know that won’t happen and it drives you crazy. Heeseung smiles, taking his prize in hand once again, his portrait remaining on the fame wall. He shakes hands with the judges before taking a good look at you.

You cannot look at him anymore, you just lower your gaze trying not to burst into tears. You worked so hard for this, yet he took away all your hope for a win. You storm out the room, sitting down at your desk to throw your head down on the wooden table.

One point. Seriously. This is ridiculous.

Well, you take a deep breath and continue with your shitty day. At some point in time, you get a knock on your office door. “Come in.” you say as you raise your eyes up to see who it is. “Oh Yena, hey.. sorry for not saying anything earlier…” you bite your lip.

“Don’t consume yourself over it, hey, that dude is a douche, okay? Do not let him get to you. You are better than him anyway.”

“Am I though? I mean… What if he is simply better than me. What if his songs are better than mine? What if his lyrics have more meaning than mine?”

“He is not better than you, and even if he will be proven to be, which I doubt, don’t ever let him know you think that.”

“I can’t be a narcissist just like him, Yena. If I am not as good as someone, I will take the responsibility on my shoulders and admit it.”

“See you’re already better than him, he would never” She laughs. You laugh back, although in your soul goes a fight between your ego and sincerity.

. . .

After the day ends, you finally go home early, not giving two fucks about what they might say or think, it is your right after all. Too bad that you get a message you dreamed of never getting, too bad it happened.

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT

“Good evening, members of the company. We are delighted to announce that tomorrow there will be a collaboration project between each other. The groups are arranged by the organisers, and they follow the lines of:

Now scrolling through all the pages, you search for your name. Oh, what are the chances.

Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n”

Of course this had to happen, it would not have been you if it were not for your amazing luck.

“Oh, suck on it seriously.” You look at your phone in disbelief, while making yourself tea. “Juno can you believe this? This man is going to ruin my image and my life. I can’t stand him anymore I swear I might kill someone if this keeps happening.” Juno meows, probably because he wants a bit of peace, but you still took that as an agreement to what you said. “I know, I know. I guess it will be okay… hope he doesn’t ruin my career for life with this. I do not trust him.”

The next day, you shake your head while getting out of your car, glaring at the tall building with huge windows. You always glare while looking at it, but somehow this time was different. It wasn’t because you hated your job, it was because you had to see your partner. All the people who greeted you in the halls got a cold response, or no response at all. Might have been a shitty thing to do but honestly you weren’t in the mood for anything anymore. You just wanted this day to be over.

When you get into Heeseung’s office, seeing him rummaging through his papers, you just stood in the doorway… waiting for him to finish his work. He raises his head to look at you, his mood getting insignificantly worse when his eyes met yours. Before he gets to sigh, you cut him off.

“The feeling is mutual. I usually try to act nice, but I just cannot stand you no matter how hard I try.” You cross your arms while he goes back to his papers. “Then take a seat.” He responds in the coldest way, only making you furrow your eyebrows at his tone. “Okay damn…” you say under your breath while grabbing a chair to sit in front of his desk.

There are a few moments of silence, but you decide to ask him about the collaboration, same reason you’re here right now.

“Heese-” “It’s Mr. Lee for you.” You clear your throat annoyed. “Mr. Lee, I am only here to ask you about what we must do, can we focus on that?”

“Why would I make a project with someone as bad at writing as you?” he looks up at you again. You bite your cheek, barely being able to stand him anymore. You just look down to your thighs, grasping your palms together anxiously. Yuna told you to never be weak in front of him, but how could you not when he was so right?

“Please refrain from insulting my work and just take the organisations words, they put us together for this, so we need to do it.”

“If I let you work on this, you will just embarrass me in front of thousands of people. How about you just let me handle this? Go home, enjoy your days off. I’ll give you the credit.”

“You cannot just do everything alone; I do not care about days off I just want to work on this too. Please Mr. Lee.”

That is the first time he’s ever heard you say please to him. He hated your presence just as much as you hated his, why must you be at each other’s throats all the time? Simply because of rivalry or did other frustrations arise from both parties?

He licks his lips, finally giving in. “You can work on it with me Y/n. Just don’t disappoint me.”

“I promise I won’t. This matters so much to me.”

You follow him to his studio; he lets you get in first and that is when he locks the door behind you. You both sit down next to each other while you work on the song. He keeps acting weird throughout the recording and editing process, changing poses multiple times in a few minutes, sighing and fidgeting with his fingers. Halfway through the song you place your hand on his while looking at him. “Mr. Lee, are you feeling okay?”

That is when he sighs, snatching his hand away from yours and turning the pc off. He turns to you, keeping his eye contact consistent. “Y/n… i’ve just been feeling frustrated. Just forget it. Let’s focus on the song.”

Now you cannot say that you care about him, but you’re still curious to see what this is about. “Oh, is that so? Frustrated in what kind? Someone like you has feelings?”

He glares at you. “Not in the way you’d think, anyway.” You tilt your head. “But how? Tell me now, i’m curious.” “Maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut, it’s none of your business.” “Just because you’re my superior does not mean you gotta talk to me like that, bastard.” He clenches his jaw. “Oh, that’s it.” He suddenly grabs onto your neck, pulling you closer. He’s still so gentle but it’s enough force to make you struggle to talk. “Is this what it’s about...? A... are you sexually frustrated…?” You tease. He releases the grasp on your neck and looks down at his hands. “I.. I’m sorry. It’s hard being alone when you’re pushing 30 you know.”

You had no idea what was happening right now, but you definitely enjoyed the attention you got. You were equally as touch starved as he was, and it was making you want more.

“You know, we could do this. But I really don’t like you dude.” You raise your eyebrow at him. He nods. “You don’t make yourself all that approachable either, would you really be down? I mean, just… fuck buddies… nothing else?”

“Mr. Lee, you know we both aren’t ones for relationships. But what’s in it for me?” “Oh, you want payment now?” “Well, you knew I wasn’t gonna give you myself for free, did you?” He laughs. “Fair, then how about I give you a raise?” “Mm… Anything else?” He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay uhh. A raise and no more staying overtime, you get paid if you leave work early and… free coffee for life.” You ponder a bit. “Alright, I accept.” “Oh, not so quick, you need some rules to you too. For this to work you have to come help me anytime I need you.” “Libido that high, huh?” He shushes you and you giggle.

“Well okay, but if you’re really frustrated right now, shall we start today?” He looks back at you, visibly cringing from you being so direct with him, but he doesn’t mind. “I mean if you’re down.” “I am, but do you have any condoms?” That’s when you see him reaching for his wallet, taking out about 3 condoms out. Your eyes widen a bit, smacking your lips at his professionalism. “Oh, wow you’re ready.” “3 is a bit much…” “Who knows, i’ll end up using all of them and then end up going raw cause we are left with none.” “Yeah, don’t know about that.” “Im messing with you, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes, letting you get on top of his lap. Your lips finally make contact with his, getting to taste him in your mouth, the feeling lingering down to your stomach.

As you begin making out, your hand travels down to his forming bulge, squeezing and massaging it to the best of your abilities. As you’re doing that, he squeezes your ass with his palm, making you flinch from the sudden pressure. You playfully slap his face, pulling away from the kiss a bit. “You’re such a dick.” “I know, wanna feel mine already?” You give him one last kiss before pushing his head back on the chair to kiss his neck, insisting on his prominent adam’s apple. You suck on his sensitive skin, forming hickeys along his whole neck. “Fuck, Y/n, you’re not bad at this.” “I know, but you are.” “Oh shut up, I barely got to do anything.” You sigh, pulling away from his neck. “Let me ride you, m’kay?” “Do whatever you want to me.” He smiles coyly. “Could I kill you?” You pout your lips. “Not until you get your raise.” “Oh, fuck off.”

You start with unbuttoning his pants, not even taking them off before placing your hand on his boxers. You press his dick a bit, his groan appearing right after. “Mhm, that’s what I love hearing.” You nod to yourself. “Right from my mouth?” He teases too. “Oh, you know what I mean, I might need to stuff yours, so you shut up more often.” “Could you stuff it with your pussy?” That keeps you quiet for a bit, his response making you clench around nothing. “… I might, if tape doesn’t work.”

You don’t even take his pants off when you pull his boxers down with his half-hard dick springing out. You grab the base, stroking it a bit to get it as erect as you can. “You’re so big.” You point out. He just smirks, looking at you up and down. You leave his dick alone for a bit just to take your panties off, as you were already wearing a skirt, the embarrassing wet stains on them being visible for Heeseung to see as well. “You got this wet already? And you’re the one saying i’m horny.” “Shut it.” You throw your panties to the other side of the room, finally ripping one condom out the packaging, putting it well onto his dick. After you give him a few more strokes you position yourself on his dick, slowly lowering yourself on his length. It takes you a few good seconds to adjust, then you slowly move your hips back and forth on him. He already throws his head back, the feeling being so familiar yet so distant. Your walls clench around him every time you move on him, the feeling already getting unbearable. You change your routine a bit, starting to bounce instead of grinding, the sound of your thighs touching echoing through the room. You try leaving out as little moans as you can, but it’s still impossible for you, as it feels so good. You leave out small desperate noises as you bounce on him. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” He smiles up at you. You glare again. “Fuck you.” While speeding up. “This.. doesn’t mean anything. I’m just.. helping.. you get rid of a boner.” You say out of breath. “And it’s working, keep going.”

You ride him as well as you can, his swollen tip getting so deep inside you it’s hitting your sweet g-spot. He needed to fuck with someone desperately, the fact that it was you was pure coincidence. Your mouth parts, leaving sounds that only his ears can hear. “Holy shit… I might cum soon… please” you cry, grabbing onto his shoulders with your nails bedded into his skin. He looks up at you, his hand resting against your ass, giving it a few squeezes here and there. “You’re gonna cum for me? Hm? Come on, cum all over me” He whisper shouts, helping you bounce on him faster and faster.

The knot in your stomach quickly snaps, your orgasm washing down over you with a few loud moans. You cum all over his dick, with each thrust forming a white ring at the base of it. “Your pussy so good, Y/n… I can’t take it any…more” he grunts, throwing his head back more with each bounce of yours. “Cum already, come on you’re... doing so well” you encourage him, and he immediately obeys, his semen spilling into his condom, making it fully white by the time you pull away from his lap. He pants and moans before you finally take the condom off his dick, the cum spilling back onto it. You stroke him a few more times, getting your hand messy but that finally makes him lay on the chair more relaxed, his high calming down.

“Damn it you’re good.” He says while smiling, his head thrown backwards. “I know, that’s why I agreed to help you.” You slightly grab onto his neck, giving it a few playful kisses. “Now should I send you back to your work? You’re finished here.” He teases. “Oh right, right. Maybe I should focus on my actual work, rather than this work.” You say, grabbing onto his dick one last time, leaving it alone after wrapping your hand around it.

He grabs your wrist, flicking it away now. He looks up at you while raising his eyebrow. “Get the fuck out of here.” You scoff at him, cleaning yourself up a bit and fixing your clothes back on before turning around to leave. “Suck my pussy.” You say annoyed while heading to the door.

As you open the door you hear a “Might do that too” and that’s when you get out the door, leaving him a middle finger before closing the door behind you.

Heeseung finishes the project for both of you, and you end up winning it together. Of course, he kept reproaching you that you won because of him, and you got into a heated argument that you just stopped talking for weeks. So first he says he’ll do it for you but when you do… he argues that he did all the work?

What an asshole.

After another day of no contact at all, you get passed a flyer at work, so you quickly read it.

“It gives us immense pleasure to invite you to a special gathering in honor of Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n to celebrate their remarkable achievement of winning the collaboration project contest first place.

Date: [7th of December]

Time: [7 PM to 12 AM]

Venue: HELIX ENTERTAINMENT VENUE & BAR

Dress Code: [Semi-Formal]

We look forward to celebrating this special moment with you.

Warm regards,

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT”

After reading, you immediately put the flyer down on your desk, covering your face with your hands. “I don’t wanna see that man ever again.” You avoided him for a few weeks, how could you meet again now? You sigh to yourself, thinking that it’s just one day, it’ll be over, and you can continue ignoring him again.

On the day of the event, you buy yourself a nice and luxurious royal blue dress, it’s long and it hugs your body so well. It has a pretty big cleavage, but you know you looked attractive in it anyway. You get ready, grab your hand purse, and get to the venue. As you enter the big ballroom you notice Heeseung right away, talking to some higher ups while having one hand in his pocket, and the other in the air, moving it around while talking. He’s wearing a tight black suit on, with a deep v-neck that perfectly shows his collarbone. His hair a dark velvet and slightly gelled. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. He always wore that dark aura to him, and that pissed you off. It’s like he was pulling you in despite you trying to pull away. Even if you said you hated him, your palms got sweaty when you saw him, your heartbeat got faster and you eyes slightly widened whenever you saw him. It wasn’t because he was your boss, it wasn’t because he could fire you at any moment… there was something else. And he knew it.

You breathe in one last time before going up to them. As soon as Heeseung sees you he can’t stop looking at you. How perfect you look, you elegant you came here yet so sexy. The way your boobs sat in your dress and how they looked at Heeseung first, that’s what he claims anyway. You don’t say anything to each other, you barely dare to make eye contact. But at one point the others leave your conversation, saluting both of you for now... And when you expect it least, he pulls you aside.

“Are you trying to tempt me with those tits?” He whispers. “Excuse me?” You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of confusion and anger. “I mean, look at you. Who did you come here for? Where are you going after this? Is there anyone else with you?” He launches this set of questions so weirdly, making you cross your arms which makes your boobs squeeze even tighter against each other.

“I’m here alone, Heeseung. I just liked this dress and came here with it. What’s your problem, even if I dressed up for someone?” You look angrily at him. “Because nobody can see… all of this… except for me. You’re my fuck buddy remember?”

“So? I thought friends with benefits meant something else for you. Don’t care what you think about my outfits. Just stop staring weirdo.” You rest your arms alongside your body, before turning to leave. He grabs your wrist, pulling you close to him. “Look, I don’t want to be constantly ignoring you. Can we be just like we were before?” your lips part. “You mean…. hating each other?” he sighs. “You know what I mean. Hating each other but helping each other with things.” You click your tongue. “Oh yeah, speaking of that… you never gave me my raise… or my coffee.”

“What? you can take as much coffee as you want, and I want you to help me with something before I give you the extra money.”

“And what’s that? amaze me.”

“Could you act that you’re my fiancé for tonight?”

You freeze. “Huh?”

“I don’t want you around me, at all. But It’s so annoying when people keep asking why i’m not married at my age.”

“Did you tell them that you’re a bastard? and that’s why you’re single?” you look at him pissed.

“Oh fuck off, just tell me if you want to help me or not.” you contemplate. “Maybe. If I finally get my raise, and some good sex out of you.”

“It’s on then. Let’s go meet some people here, they’re old and rich perverts but they give hella good sponsors. You might wanna cover up. I don’t want them looking at you.” he grabs your waist. “What a coincidence, that sounds like a perfect description of you in a few years.” you roll your eyes, walking with him while struggling to put on your jacket.

“Hello, Mr. Lee, and who is this beautiful lady?” they start right off the bat looking at your body and all, despite covering yourself as well as you can. You feel so uncomfortable with them but Heeseung makes sure to cover you with his body instead. “This is Y/n, my dearest fiancé. She’s a bit shy, so please talk to me instead.” You throw a slight smile while looking at him, his gesture making you really happy.

After you were done with these men, you leave to a more reserved area. “I can’t believe i’m saying this but… thanks for having my back earlier.” “Don’t fret, I saw how uncomfortable you were. Hate you or not, I can’t see you with that expression on your stupid face.”

You take your jacket off while nodding your head. “Wow, what a compliment from you mr. Lee. I acted enough; now can I stop being your dog following you everywhere?”

“Of course, you can leave too if you’re busy.”

“Hey, what about my payment? remember?”

“You want your money now? What do you wanna buy? I’ll give you my card.” He says, pulling out his card to hand it to you. “My pin is 1510. Use however much you want.”

That just stunned you. “W-What no I don’t need to buy anything. Keep your card…” you push it back to him. “I meant… you know.”

“The good sex part?” he says softly.

“Yeah. That.” you say a bit embarrassed now. “Stop making it so awkward, you’re being too quiet for your own good.” you continue.

“Why do you think that? Is my mouth too big to keep quiet?” he smiles. “Obviously, you never seem to shut up but right now you’re eerily quiet.” “I’m just thinking whether I should just eat you out like you deserve or fuck you too on top of that.” His response already gets you hot and bothered, not caring about the people who might be there or might pass you two. You get even closer to him, sliding your hand down his v-neck to touch his pecs and collarbone. “What’s stopping you from doing both? Please Heeseung. It’s my turn to be needy is it not?”

“Of course, it can be your turn whenever. Surprised you’re craving my pleasure when you can’t stand me.” “You’re still fucking hot with this suit on, personality or not.” He smiles, pulling you into a heated kiss, the butterflies rummaging through your stomach. You grab onto his hair, pushing him a little while making out. You pull away after a bit, finally unbuttoning his shirt. You touch him all over his body, barely being able to stop.

“Did you always look this good?” you say, moving your hands on his abdomen. “Were you always this desperate for me?” he smiles, letting you do whatever you want, until he begins undressing you too, sliding that dress off you in a hurry. He slips your bra off taking one tit into his mouth while kneading the other. You let out desperate sounds, wishing he would just eat you out already. His breath hot against your nipple makes your whole body shiver, inevitably making you whine. “Heeseung just suck on my pussy like that please stop teasing me damn it.”

He laughs against your skin, giving your boob one last kiss before pulling away. “Okay, okay, sit down on this couch.” You do, and he gets on his knees to slide your panties off. He makes you spread your legs for him, keeping them apart with his hands. He starts off with small kisses around your core, taking his time enjoying his meal afterall. “This is the second time you’re dripping wet for me, is it a pattern now?” you grab onto his hair to keep him there. “Shut up and just help me get through this.” He listens, starting to eat you out to the best of his ability. Hollowing his cheeks, shaking his head to suck on your folds. He puckers up his lips to kiss you all over, giving it a few sweet licks all over the slit. Once he reaches your clit, he glues his mouth on it, sucking on it leaving the nastiest sounds known to man. While he’s focusing on your clit, he sneaks his fingers to your wet hole, sliding one finger in at first, pounding it into you at a steady rate. You cannot stop moaning loudly, the pleasure being too much for you. He inserts another finger in, curling them inside you, reaching your g-spot easily.

“Oh, right there, Hee. Don’t you dare stop or you’re so dead— oh my fucking god that’s so good.” His hand speeds up, he pulls his mouth away to flick his tongue on your bud faster and faster; matching the rhythm of his fingers. “Fuck!” you cry out. “Heeseung i’m gonna… cum please … keep going.” You lose your mind. He speeds up even more, destroying your pussy with his fingers, actually giving you hope that he’s gonna let you finish. Once you get as close as you’ve ever been, he pulls out and away completely, making your body shake. You groan suddenly opening your eyes in disbelief. “What the fuck..?” you say angrily. “You thought I was just gonna let you cum like that from something so simple?” You glare. “You’re so fucking annoying, I had such a good orgasm forming.”

He caresses your cheek. “Stop pouting, let me make you cum forreal now, okay?” you still look mad, but you grab onto the hem of his pants, pulling them down in one second; his boner is quite visible already. You pull his dick out, stroking it while he gets a condom out his wallet again (Somehow he’s always ready). You keep stroking him, squeezing his tip with your fingers until he leaks precum everywhere. You stop that to pull his boxers down further, letting him put his condom on. He strokes himself a few more times before positioning himself to penetrate you. He slowly pushes his cock in, making slow movements at first, slowly speeding up to fuck you good. “You’re taking it so well, and you feel so good..” You hum, slowly wrapping your legs around him. “That’s amazing… keep going..” you whine, letting him fuck you til you lose your mind.

He slightly moans at every thrust, managing to get deeper and deeper with every thrust. You feel him so deep inside, hitting your g-spot again with his swollen tip. The sudden zap makes you grab onto his biceps with your hands, digging your nails into his skin while moaning louder. “Mhm…. That’s the spot. Don’t stop please…” He finally listens to your pleads, pounding into your sweet spot over and over as you leave red scratches all over his arms. Your hands move up to his upper back, scratching him like a wild cat. He hisses multiple times at the pain, but he lets you react this way just to see all your reactions to him destroying you once again. You tighten around him as you’re about to cum.

“Hee...please let me cum... plea—oh that feels so good please…” you say as you start crying, small tears running down your cheeks shutting your eyes forcefully. “Who’s crying on my cock now? You love getting fucked like this don’t you slut?” he says while speeding up even more, making you squirt on him on the spot. His words buzz in your ear over and over while you lose your mind completely. Your legs shake on his lower back, getting his dick wet with your squirt. “You’re so messy when you cum.” He groans, getting close to his release too. “Oh fuck you… you know you like it… cum already…. come on.” A few more thrusts in and he pulls out to take his condom off his dick. He gives himself a few more strokes before releasing strings of cum all over your stomach. He holds onto your thigh with his other hand while continuing to stroke himself. You look down to your stomach just to see, biting your lip at the scenery. “That’s a new one… you look damn hot doing it.” He slightly smiles at you. “Figured we’d both get messy.” You both quickly clean up the best you can, trying not to get caught by anyone despite how loud you both were the entire time.

“Is this the good sex you were talking about?” he says in a sly manner. “Obviously, if that even means something to you. If there’s one good thing about you it might just be that dick.” You roll your eyes at him. “Oh my, should I feel honored?” he says sarcastically.

You both get out of there, having no intention of staying after what both just did. He gives you the rest of the evening off and gives you your very awaited raise. He was generous with his numbers, that good time really helped. might despise you, or that’s what you think, but he took that raise seriously and you couldn’t stop smiling at your bank balance.

A few days later, you get a text at work from none other than Heeseung. You never gave him your number, so it was a surprise.

“hey y/n”

“Who is this?”

“the guy you fucked 2 days ago”

“ugh what do u want”

“i’m your boss, don’t text me that way”

“whatever, why are u texting me and where did u get my number”

“yena, i just wanted to give you some extra work today”

[1 attachment]

The photo he sent shows his lower body sitting on a chair with his legs slightly manspreading, a thick bulge layering on his dark grey pants while his left hand is gripping the said bulge. Multiple veins are seen branching down from his hand to his arm.

The moment you saw the picture your eyes scattered throughout the pixels in your phone without being able to stop. The photo he took was so damn attractive to you for no specific reason but the way his hand looked, the way you just knew that bulge in his pants was throbbing, begging to get out the tight bottom wear. Still, you decided to be a little cold to him as you always were.

“oh why should i help u? i already got my raise”

“do u want this to be your only one?”

You leave him on seen for a minute or two.

“where r u”

“in my office, tell my bodyguard i called you in here”

“🖕”

You get up, fixing your makeup a little before leaving your office to get to his. After you close the door behind you, you both have a moment of intense eye contact, just to break it off by looking down. “You got here fast. Missed me that much?” you smack your lips. “It’s not like you threatened me or anything.” He laughs softly. “You know you missed me already. Did you touch yourself to the picture I sent, too?” He slowly walks towards you.

“What? No. You’re not all that Heeseung. Your mouth moves too much though.”

“Oh yeah? Then let's see what yours can do.”

He grabs your chin, pulling it up so you can only look into his eyes. There are a few seconds of silence where your heart skips a beat… then in his lowest tone you hear him say...

“Get on your knees.”

He releases the grasp on your chin, letting you lower yourself, finally making eye contact with his bulge. “Aren’t we gonna get caught here?” He shakes his head. “No one can enter without my permission. No one can leave either, like you here.” He smiles. You squeeze your legs together at his words while sliding his pants and boxers off in one move. His hardened cock springs out, bouncing off his navel. You start with small pecks to his red tip, slowly moving down to his entire length. He looks down at you, admiring your sweet moves to bring him pleasure. “You’re adorable like this, did you know?” he chuckles. “Eat a dick.” He slaps your cheek. “Too bad you’re eating mine right now.” You glare up at him before taking his tip in your mouth, stroking him with your hand. You have your other hand resting on his right knee, as you bop your head back and forth little by little. He smiles at you, grabbing your hair into a ponytail just to keep your head in place and to be able to fuck your mouth a bit.

You unwrap your hand from around him cock, letting him completely take control, going at his desired pace. He moans at the feeling, throwing his head back for a second. “Fuck yeah... I see this mouth is better at doing things other than complaining all the time.” His thrusts are making you slightly choke on his dick, getting harder and harder to breathe. You grab onto his thighs, trying to at least make him slow down, but to no avail. It feels too good for him to stop now, your mouth wrapped so tight around his dick; sending him waves of bliss with each thrust. After a good while he pulls away, letting you breathe again. “I fucking hate you.” You say, looking up at him. “Don’t talk to your superior that way, brat.” He grabs the base of his cock, slapping the tip onto your lips multiple times.

You take him in your mouth again, bopping your head up and down faster than before. You try using your tongue against as well, caressing the sensitive spot between his tip and length with the tip of your tongue.

“That feels so good. Don’t pull away.” He whispers. You leave little hums to confirm that you won’t, letting him get closer to his release with those emitted vibrations. After a few more sloppy bops, he moans like hell, grabbing onto the back of your head to push you deeper onto him. “Y/n i’m— gonna cum… hold on…” he moans out, his eyes closed shut. You keep going, wanting him to cum right in your mouth. “Mmm…hmm.” Is all you can let out, before he cums deep in your throat, automatically swallowing all of it. He leaves out a small groan, pulling out your mouth after he’s done. A string of saliva links his tip and your tongue as he pulls away further.

“Good girl. You swallowed all of it.” You give him a little smile, standing up while wiping your mouth. “Might’ve been the best i’ve ever had, come here.” He says, grabbing your waist with his arms. He leans in to give you a genuine kiss, not a lustful one, definitely not. He keeps you in that deep kiss for a while, pulling away only to pull you in again. “Where... is this … coming from?” you chuckle a little, asking between kisses. “I don’t think… I can stand… completely hating… you anymore…” your eyes widen a bit. “Was my mouth that good?” you say jokingly, and he shakes his head. “Not just that, not just sex. You have a crazy charm to you, I don’t know if you can feel it.”

“That’s crazy coming from you Lee Heeseung.”

“I want you in my life Y/n, you can be mad all you want but it doesn’t change things between us.”

“You’ve already been in mine way too long.” You smile.

“Exactly, I want you to be so sick of me, no medicine would be able to treat you.”

“I guess we can make it work… you’re crazy hot, still might need to tape that mouth though.”

“Is that a secret kink?” He laughs.

“Oh, shut up.” You push him slightly. You can’t lie, being his girlfriend now was tempting, no matter how much you tried to hate him, he attracted you more and more without even realising. Every time he was in your presence your subconscious was happy to see him. Your mind played tricks on you, and you hated how much you adored him.

Dating Lee Heeseung, your boss, was one of the best decisions of your life. Turns out he’s sweeter than it seems, he would give his life for you, and you would too. You didn’t need anyone else, only your soulmate and your cat. You ended up moving in together, always cooking dinner together, going on vacations together and just enjoying eachother’s presence. He was such a sweet guy, something you never expected to see from such a man. Yena definitely judged you when she first found out about your new relationship, but quickly came along with the idea. Thing is, Heeseung acted this way with others but he was so sweet with you. He only loved you. His sparkly bambi eyes always stare at you with such admiration when you walk in the room. He can’t stop admiring you all the time.

I guess he wasn’t that bad after all.

———————————————————————

a/n: thank you so much for reading this!! I spent a few days on it and it was definitely experimental. reblogging/liking would be very much appreciated < 3

#kpop #kpop bg #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #heeseung smut #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung lee #heeseung #enhypen x reader

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itheunknown · 5 months ago

Text

odi et amo - (02) none for me

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam

masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

alfred fears he's failed you.

you always were a quiet child, swallowing all the hurt you felt and buried it within your soul. he fears the hurt has consumed you.

he can't confidently say that he's done all he could for you, trying to manage the manor along with the other dysfunctional residents amd their nightly activities, which rendered him unable in giving you his undivided attention.

if he could to back, he would change it all in a heartbeat.

he vividly remembers the day commissioner gordon had phoned him about you, and was briefed about your background and the “accident” through the call, feeling a sense of relief that you had a somewhat normal background. when he saw you, he took that back. the chair you were on looked too big for your malnourished frame, the bandages swallowing your entire body and a couple bruises here and there. but what struck him were your eyes. they were so distant, bags heavy, with no light in them. the eyes that wordlessly show the hidden horrors you’ve been through.

you reminded him of bruce.

you were understandably skittish, settling into a completely new environment and seeing unfamiliar faces that you just had to accept were your now family. he assumed that with time you'd be able to overcome it after mourning the loss of your aunt, along with the help of everyone welcoming you with open arms and getting you accustomed to your new life as part of their family.

yet, that never happened.

he sees them dismiss you.

he’s seen you stand politely outside bruce’s office until he’s done with his tasks before requesting something (the bare necessities), all because previously, the first time (and only time) you had mistakenly interrupted his meeting in order to hand him the papers that alfred had asked you to, bruce had raised his voice at you for being a nuisance.

he’s seen the way you stare at dick when he interacts with the other members, showering them in brotherly love, yet walking past you like you were a piece of furniture, not noticing you.

he’s seen the way you had recommended jason books based on what he had read, only for him to scoff into your face and undermine your intellect, purposely limiting his interactions with you.

he’s seen the way you curiously looked through tim’s door that was left ajar, only for him to give you a scornful look and slamming it in your face, calling you annoying.

he’s seen the way you had agreed to every one of damian’s snide and hateful comments about how you were never good enough for the last name you do not hold, just because he was the only person who paid you any mind.

he's seen the way cassandra could easily read people, but never seemed to think you were worthy enough to give you the time of day, even while your eyes would try to find hers.

he's seen how easy it was for you to cry yet you never allowed yourself to do so, you'd curl your hands into tight fists until it pales and bleeds.

he’s seen the emptiness in your gaze when they’re locked on everyone during dinner, talking and engrossed in each other’s conversation, taking part of each other's lives while leaving you in the sidelines, standing at the doorway before you'd leave to your room, never joining them.

do they not see you?

a few months after you'd settled in, you had requested alfred that he would only really need to come clean your room once a week if at all, claiming that cleaning gives you a sense of control and there's a particular way it needed to be done. you rarely asked anything of him, you were self-sufficient to a fault, never allowing yourself to rely on anyone but yourself. he had offered to learn how you liked the cleaning to be done, but you remained unconvinced. so as to not overstep, he obliged.

he wished he didn’t. he sees you retreat further into yourself. he sees you spiral. he sees it all, yet was unable to stop it. he sees, but does nothing.

alfred cared. but that didn’t mean he could save you.

the weather was gloomy, the grey sky stretched on above you as you watched the soft puffs of smoke escaped from your lips floated up to join the clouds. the familiar comfort that a cigarette brings you feels like a blessing these days. smoking helps lift the weight that weighs heavy on your skull, you try to soothe it even more by pressing harshly against your eye with your other hand void of the burning cigarette. you know it's a bad habit that you should ideally kick, especially worse if you were caught by anyone, but do you actually care?

“thought i'd find you here.”

you don't even need to turn around, recognizing the voice too well.

“what is it this time?”

another voice chippers, the peaceful atmosphere you were surrounded in was interrupted. you sigh and put out the cigarette, waving your hand around to fan the smoke away from your only two friends. they both giggle and extend their arms towards you to pull you up.

“you know, with the amount you've smoked lately, alfred might find out. like, i can smell you before i see you.” they tut at you half-heartedly, watching you brush the dirt off your uniform.

it has become a routine for you, to linger behind after school ends at the more secluded areas, where you hide your bike inside the overgrown bushes (in fear of it being stolen yet again) and smoke away your troubles before making your way back. it's not a habit you started recently, you first smoked when you were working that shitty job to keep you and your aunt afloat, and having mental breakdowns behind the restaurant during break on every shift started to become too much of a nuisance, which was when a coworker had offered you theirs; but you can tell your friends could see that you've been turning to it more often.

with the chatter following behind, you start walking your bicycle towards the main gates of the school, ready to take your usual route home. occasionally joining in their conversations, you're about to bid your friends goodbye until you catch the weird looks the other students throw at you while trying to increase their distance. your hands tighten around the handlebars, trying to remain unfazed as you stood there.

you couldn't even consider yourself a complete social reject, you had tried to remain on everyone's good side to ensure a smooth educational experience: you were helpful and nice, you had good grades and were consistently the top 5 students in your year, and taking parts in various clubs and after school activities. however, no amount of effort could erase the somewhat unsettled look your classmates throw your way and the worried look you teachers would cast at you.

for once, you hoped to not be seen.

does the disdain come from how they never saw your family show up to anything that involved you? or was it because you were a tryhard? it's not like you did it to prove yourself to your family or classmates, but it was a good distraction from the numbness that's eating you whole. you don’t understand what you’ve done. you were clearly not lacking in terms of academic achievements and extracurriculars, so it only left your social life to be judged. your social circle, which only really included your 2 friends, are the sweetest and most supporting characters you’ve known despite being constantly ignored by others, so you come to conclude that you must be the problem. the duo gave you a worried glance, patting your shoulder as you stood there. “hey, don't mind them, you can't please everyone you know.” “yeah, you can't control everything! just let it go.” your other friend chimes in, pushing the back of your bike, prompting you all to walk again.

you smiled, your friends have always been your source of comfort, it was a bond you’ve built on trust and wordless understanding, they had been so compassionate about what you’ve been through even if you rarely opened up - they might be the only people keeping you sane. they understood you more than you did yourself.

you compose yourself and hop on your bicycle, turning back to wave at them. with a sigh, you pushed off, their silhouette fades into into the distance as the wind caresses your face while you pedal. you try not dread having to go back to the manor, enjoying the few short moments you feel at peace within your daily routine, you cycle on the familiar path you've taken countless times before - it's just another day to return to the house that was not your home.

damian was rummaging through your room. mostly out of boredom from roaming the countless empty halls within the manor absent-mindedly, walking past countless doors before he noticed yours. he really didn't have any malicious intentions, despite his distaste of your existence, he was not one to seek you out to make your life harder, he was above that - at least, that's what he believes.

there's not much to see in your room, a couple band posters peeling at the edges, books scattered next to the table lamp on the carpet, bed tidy but not neatly, opened notebooks on your desk. it fills him with contempt. you are less than: no prophecy to fulfil, no legacy to uphold - but also, no trauma to drag you down, your past a clean slate. sharing the same father, but not cut from the same cloth.

unlike him, you were ridiculously normal. unlike him, you were free.

maybe he resents you more than he initially thought.

his eyes lands on a small shirt hung on the wall, it might as well be baby attire.

it was a ragged looking thing, really. the colours worn off, the edges a little frayed but not from use, but rather the quality. curiously, he steps on your bed reaching for it to investigate further.

"what are you doing."

embarrassingly, damian did not care enough to get caught being nosy in your room in the first place. so when you opened your door that was oddly left ajar to see damian standing on your bed with his shoes on after a long day of school, he feels compromised. before he stumbles off your bed, his hand manages to snag the edge of the shirt, pulling it off the walls. your eyes finally catches on to what he was reaching for and your heart rate quickens.

despite how increasingly difficult it was for you to remain calm, you try to smile, "please give that back, damian" you're so nervous your hands almost shake trying to urge him to return it. damian feels humiliated being forced to confront the person whose room he was snooping through, so he fists the article tighter in his hand and snarls at you. seeing as he is not intending to return it, you take a cautious step forward, raising both of your arms.

like a threatened dog, he pushes you harshly with his entire body weight to make way for the door. you stumble back in shock, but grab onto his shoulder before he manages to leave your room. "damian, please, that's very important to me" you plead, trying to pry his fingers off it.

in damian's mind, this was no longer about what's yours, this was his power being questioned.

"you don't even need this rag anymore" he slaps your hand away. your patience wearing thin, frustration bubbling to the surface of your composure, you start forcefully trying to snatch it back. soon, you both were fighting for it, pulling back and forth. you were obviously at a disadvantage, but in your desperation, it didn't matter. you scream at him to let go.

and damian? he's starting to get entertained, having never seen you this emotional before. this was like a game to him, it's too easy to overpower you, so he drags the fight on despite you landing a few hits on him yourself - he's mocking you. the brawl continues, until the sound of fabric ripping stills you.

in your hand was nearly half of your shirt, the other half still firmly held in damian's grasp.

colour leaves your face, you stare in horror at the torn up shirt, not being able to utter a sound.

meanwhile, the fun was over for damian, so he saw no purpose in remaining in your room as he wordlessly let go of the fabric and walked out, stepping on it on the way as if for good measure.

you grabbed him by the shirt, eyes holding back tears. "that was the only thing left from my mother."

the revelation stills him, he feels bad, and he hates that he feels anything for you besides hatred.

"so? that's not my problem. it's not my fault your peasant of a mother couldn't afford anything else to leave you with" he taunts, "in fact, she couldn't even afford to raise you, so now you're here leeching off while haunting the manor with your unnecessary presence."

"what do you know about my mom" damian's eyes widen, taken aback by the seriousness in your tone, contrasting all the times defaulted into being a pushover when with him. you're so upset, your grip on his shirt tightens as you glare through the tears streaming down your face, "i didn't even get to know my mom!"

it's no surprise that with the ruckus that you both caused, it wouldn't have gone unheard. so when alfred came to check and inquire what all the noise was about, he witnessed you yell and push damian to the floor harshly. before you could even register alfred's presence, a force had struck you - your head snapped to the side while the sting starts to burn on your cheek.

alfred had slapped you. alfred. slapped. you.

you and damian stare at him in shock, alfred himself is in disbelief. what had he done? he tries to justify his actions to you, trying to make himself believe he did the right thing.

"damian is younger than you, as the older child you must understand. this is, in no way, an acceptable display as the older sibling."

surely you understand, you always do! he just feared things would have spiraled out of control. right? you're almost catatonic, eyes wide staring at him in disbelief, not believing your ears.

"you must understand."

he stares into your eyes, almost pleading that you'd forgive him. but all that was reflected in your gaze was a look filled with horror and betrayal.

you pushed through both of them, the call of your name falling on deaf ears, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door, locking it.

alfred cared, but not enough.

heyyyyyyyyyy 👋☺️... i uh.. may or may not have used actual events that happened to me in here #projecting am i right :heh: thank you for all your lovely comments 🫶 you're all so skibbidi it really helped motivate me (not to abandon my writing)! as always interactions are very appreciated ⊹ ࣪ ˖ (TAGLIST) lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :yowaimo: @confused-they @hoeinthehouse @strwberryglass @heartjwonie @glitchmshade @bat1212 @buddee @eyeless-kun @thereeallink @icantcryicantstopcrying @bunbunboysworld @gh0str00m @wizzerreblogs @lazy-kari202 @dotomuses @gwyneveire @gh6st24 @roseapov @kore-of-the-underworld @kingshitonly @plsfckmedxddy @unknownloner1345 @moon-2232 @lilithquillete @v3vina @froggy-voidd @angrybuttooshorttofightyou @sami0169 @m3vlOvesu @pix-stuff @bunbunbread @agent-nobody-knows @cxcilla @horror-lover-69 @redkarmakai @mariadvorak @shirp-collector-of-fixations @batboygirlie @diejager @noclue-0 @sick2mystmch @novs9011 @kitkatkitmeow @crazycaoticsimp @majonla @hebaoffside

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comatosebunny09 · 3 months ago

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not quite human [ 01 ] | sylus

— summary: the led in his temple whirls a soft yellow before returning to its usual, tranquil blue. “my name is sylus.” it doesn’t sound as silly coming from him. rolls off his tongue like the steady push and pull of waves against the shoreline. it’s comforting in a way. disarming. maybe you’re not as bad at naming things as you think.

— cw: reader implied to be femme, gendered terms, alcohol, profanity, sarcasm, innuendoes, allusions to robot sex, sylus is an android, futuristic au

— notes: heavily influenced by detroit: become human, @asirensrage, and my own horny, thirsty thoughts. tysm for reading. please enjoy! [ part 02 ]

Stiff.

You crave something stiff to ease the ache between your shoulders, the grind of your teeth, and the pounding in your temples as you step into the car garage’s elevator.

You let your shoulders drop with an exhale as the doors slip shut after punching your desired floor into the holographic panel. The lift lightly jostles to begin its ascent. You close your eyes against the blaring, fluorescent lights overhead, leaning against the rail, your head colliding with the wall behind with a muted thunk.

Days like these, you come closer and closer to dropping your resignation letter. You should feel fortunate—you have a job in a world where unemployment is on the rise. Doesn’t mean a desk job is as cushy as it seems. You have carpal tunnel and a splitting migraine as testament to your woes. Plus, you don’t drink enough water. Dumb ass.

The elevator reaches its destination, a tinny, mellifluous voice announcing your floor from the intercom overhead. As if you shoulder the world, you drag yourself from the lift, stalking through the quiet, sepia-toned hallway like something undead.

You picture the bottle of Don Julio waiting for you on your counter. Can practically taste it as you round the bend towards your apartment. But something brown and bulky catches your eye, obscuring your door and slowing your steps.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, squinting as you approach it. You step around the ominous box to scrutinize it further. It’s so huge that it barely grazes the top of your doorframe and is almost the width of it.

You don’t recall ordering anything, especially something so massive. You scour the box’s surface for any indication of where it could’ve come from—a return address, a telltale logo, a note. Something. When your search doesn’t yield any answers, you sigh, stomping your feet and flailing your arms around like a child.

“I don’t have time for this,” you say through a glower, slipping off your bag.

The box obstructs your apartment, so you have one of two choices: shove it out of the way into the midst of the hallway for someone else to deal with, or muscle it through your door and deal with it inside. The former seems like it’ll take more effort, given that there’s little to no wiggle room between the cut of your doorframe and the box for you to squeeze into.

Resigned, you drop your bag and ruck up your sleeves. After unlocking your door with your biometrics, the soft spill of clean linen and lavender from inside motivating you, you prepare yourself to shove this ridiculously huge thing into your home.

Your intentions are good. But it’s so fucking heavy, it barely budges an inch.

“What the fuck!” you grate, kicking the box as if it’ll solve all your problems. That proves to be a mistake, and you comically hop around, clutching your smarting foot.

You glare at the box when the pain subsides, caught in a stare down with an inanimate object like a cowboy in an old, filmy western. You’re no bitch. Sure, you really should exercise more—you’ve been paying for a gym membership for the past year that you haven’t touched. Maybe this wouldn't be such a task if you had a bit more muscle. But you refuse to be bested by a fucking box. A box that stands between you and a stiff one.

So, you shove, shimmy, and tilt it every way you can until you’ve managed to get it through your doorframe and into your home. I’m proud of myself, you think as you dust off your hands like you’ve done some real work. You only cried twice, had one existential crisis, one meltdown, and you didn’t have to call the fire department to help you this time. You’re making progress.

You slip past the enormous thing, nearly losing a nipple in the process. Kick off your heels, the motion-sensing lights triggering as you make a beeline for your minibar. You snatch up a whiskey glass and your decanter, watching the liquid gold slosh about like a man deprived of water in the desert.

Panting, you down the contents of the glass in one go. It’s a good burn, a reward for all your efforts, and you sweep some sweat-slicked hair out of your face, leaning against your counter to catch your breath. It is here that you take time to appraise the box, wishing you could burn holes into the damn thing with your glare alone.

Whoever sent this is trying to fuck with you, you just know it. You haven’t a clue what’s inside, and you’re not even sure if it’s yours. But you put in all this effort to shoulder it into your home. So, you snatch up a box cutter from your miscellaneous utility drawer, brandishing it as you approach the box like a maniac about to carve up someone’s face.

You cut away at the tape securing the edges, cackling like a madwoman. Jared Leto would be proud. You pull and snatch at the cardboard, the sound of the carnage, the only noise inhabiting your still apartment. When you’ve eviscerated the box, packing popcorn and plastic strips strewn everywhere like entrails, you’re met with a white, featureless pod inside.

It’s half the size of the box it came in, the jaundiced gleam of your entryway light bouncing off its pristine surface. Suspicious, you hop back to squint at it. If it were a bomb, it surely would’ve gone off by now, what with you shaking the damn thing like a vending machine refusing to give you candy. What on earth could this be? And why the fuck do you have it?

Shrugging, you approach the pod, poking at it with a broom and a pot lid held to your face as a makeshift shield. The pod doesn’t respond to your prodding—no surprise there. You toss down your weapons, and with anxiety welling in your throat, you smooth your hands over the pod’s cool surface, searching for an entry point.

You trigger something in your exploration, a light beep causing you to stiffen. You scramble back as the pod whirs to life, hissing with an exhalation of air, smoke pouring from its seams.

Fuck, you think, squeezing your eyes shut, this might be the end. And to think, you’ve watched so many horror movies telling you why you shouldn’t touch ominous shit. Oh well. You’ve lived a good life. Although, you’re still low-key upset you didn’t get to try shrooms at least once.

The smoking and hissing subside, and you cough in their wake, waving your hand to ward them off. You open an eye, the pod’s door fully raised, and as the fog clears, you’re met with the sight of…a man, curled up inside in the fetal position like a Pokémon.

“Um?”

You kneel before this being that looks too big to be stuffed into the pod like an action figure, and you study him.

A riotous mop of white hair sits atop his head, though it’s coiffed in a way that works for him. His eyes are closed beneath manicured, silver brows, peacefully fringed by dark lashes. You next notice his nose, carved in a Roman god’s image. Full, rouge lips sit amid chiseled features, stretched over summery skin. Despite the alarm bells ringing in your head, you poke his cheek, surprised to feel your nail sinking into what feels like flesh.

“Oh no. He’s hot.”

His physique shows through the tailored hug of his suit, like a man destined to work on a farm, tending to horses, or a fruit stand. Further scrutiny yields something that makes your lips purse. The telltale, blue armband glows on his bicep. You shoot up as if taking a hot poker in the ass.

“An android?” you query under your breath, thoroughly confused. “The fuck do I need one of these for?”

Tapping your lip, you pace your living room, scrolling through the catalog of your mind for who could’ve possibly sent you a gift from CyberLife. And an expensive one, at that. You’ve seen this model before—a prototype advertised on every billboard and mode of public transport in the city, yet to be released to the masses. Only three of them have been created so far. How’d you manage to get your hands on one of them?

You snatch up your phone, urgently swiping through your contacts. You think maybe it’s your mother’s doing. She’s known for sending you spur-of-the-moment shit. But she can’t navigate her way around a phone without help, let alone figure out how to order you a top-of-the-line Ken doll.

Maybe it’s your father. But he’d rather chew glass than send you anything practical. Your friends, maybe? They could’ve scrounged some money together to buy you a gift. They have been bitching about you needing to get laid, and what better way to orchestrate that than by sending a fucking sex bot?

Before you can draw up the group chat, the whirring of machinery and fans makes you jolt, your phone clattering on the floor. Your attention snaps to the source of the sound, another plume of smoke pouring from the pod to obscure the sight of your new…friend.

If you die from smoke inhalation, you’re going to haunt these halls and tip every painting in every apartment sideways just to fuck with people.

When the new cloud of mist dissipates, you’re ramrod stiff and petrified in the face of this skyscraper of a man.

He smells of sterile walls and clean oil, his face an impassive mask as he takes in his surroundings with striking, scarlet eyes. His model number glows a serene white on his right breast pocket, CyberLife’s triangular logo pulsing on the left. As if it weren’t already obvious he was a bot, a small, circular LED gleams blue on his temple to signify that he’s…on? Operational? Scaring you shitless?

When he’s done processing his surroundings, those sharp eyes land on you. And you would shit yourself if not for the facsimile of a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. It’s like it hurts him. Doesn’t at all look natural amid his insanely handsome features.

“Um,” you start, waving a cautious hand, “hi?”

“Hello,” he says, the pleasant purr of his voice curdling low in your stomach. “I am a fourth-generation SLX900 Android. I can look after your house, cook, mind your children, and organize your appointments.”

You watch him with your mouth spilling open as he goes through his initialization spiel. He’s broad-shouldered and big, and you bite your lip against a laugh, imagining this hulk of a machine in your kitchen in a frilly, pink apron, scrubbing your dishes.

“I speak 300 languages, and I am entirely at your disposal as a sexual partner—”

Heat blooms in your face. You wave your hands frantically, signifying that he skips past the intimate bits. You’re down atrocious, but you don’t think you’d ever fuck an android. Not that he doesn’t look breedable. Besides, how do they even—

“No need to feed or recharge me. I am equipped with a quantum battery that makes me autonomous for 173 years.” The android straightens, clasping his hands together behind his back. “Would you like to give me a name?”

The way he recites his lines with such cold, indifferent precision makes a thrill echo down your spine. You know that CyberLife designed these things to be as human-like as possible. You’ve worked with a few of them; their uncanny valley composure gives you the heebie jeebies.

Despite the calm burr of his voice, there’s something about him—something spuming beneath the layers of circuitry and memory cards and wiring—that unsettles you.

So hung up in your ruminations, you forget that he asked you a question.

“Would you like to give me a name?” he parrots, tone as even as the first time.

“Um, yeah, sure…”

You tap your chin in thought, studying the incandescent lights overhead as if they can yield you an answer. Names have never been your forte. If it were up to you, you’d call everything as you saw it—Hey, I’m gonna name you Plant. You? Plant 2. And you? Dickhead.

You don’t know how the name comes to you, but you regurgitate it before you can give it much thought. “Sylus.”

The LED in his temple whirls a soft yellow before returning blue. That terrifying smile reemerges, splitting his face in twain like The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. You flinch, wishing he’d never smile like that again.

“My name is Sylus.” It doesn’t sound as silly coming from him. Rolls off his tongue like the steady push and pull of waves against the shoreline. It’s comforting in a way. Disarming.

He blinks after the grin slips from his mouth, traded for something less creepy. Scans over you as if committing your face to his internal storage. His lips slightly part, hovering over a question. Had you known any better, you’d have mistaken him for being pensive.

“And what might I call you, Miss?”

You give him your name, toying with your fingers like a shy teen. He repeats it like a gentle praise, rolling the syllables around in his mouth. The heat in your skin burns tenfold. Why does everything this guy says sound so fucking hot?

A few moments escape between the pair of you. You’re looking everywhere but at him, suddenly feeling self-conscious beneath his calculating gaze. The light whir of his internal fans competes with that of your pulsing heart.

You laugh nervously, attempting to break the tension. “So, uh…what do I do with you? Do I, like, water you like a plant? Am I not supposed to feed you past midnight, or…”

He chuckles, the sound of it more human-like than anything he’s said thus far. “I can do whatever you need me to do. I am at your disposal.”

Don’t know why, but your mind automatically goes to the gutter. Get it together, you hornball. Horny jail for you. Bonk!

The tense silence stretches for a beat longer. Your newest guest surveys your living room with quiet judgment. “Why don’t I begin with straightening up your home? Would that be a good place to start?”

You blanch. Your living room looks like utter shit. Clothes sit on every surface like your dryer threw up—they’re clean, you swear. Errant bowls and drinking glasses litter your coffee table and kitchen island. A few cartons of Chinese takeout sit on your counter like decorations. You’re mortified. Sure, he’s a machine. But you would die if anyone saw you living like this, machine or not.

“Heh…I swear, it’s not normally like this. I’ve been working, ya know? Don’t really have time to clean.”

Sylus smirks, a dimple cratering his synthetic cheek. That looks more genuine than that constipated shit he gave you earlier. “Well, that is where I come in, Miss. I won’t judge you for your questionable habits. It’s not in my programming.”

You watch the android step off, bending to turn on your robotic vacuum cleaner before getting to work. He moves around your home with efficient grace, a rehearsed ease as he tidies up as if that’s his sole purpose.

Something warm spills into your belly. You’ve never been one to stand idly by while people take care of you. Never been one to keep your hands clean, always itching to help in any way possible. Burning to feel useful. So, you start picking up your home with your shiny new android friend, working beside him in somewhat comfortable harmony.

Maybe he isn’t such a terrible surprise after all. That logic goes out the window when he picks up one of your thongs, twirling it around his slender figure with a smug shine to his eyes.

You snatch it from him, telling him to leave the clothes to you, burning like a tea kettle. CyberLife thought of everything, didn’t they?

Crickets chirp beyond your window, chorusing with the steady rustle of the grass and leaves. The moon sits high in the inky sky, stars dotting the violet canvas like spilled milk. The city outside bustles with nightlife, androids and humans walking the streets side by side as if they’ve always coexisted in monotonous harmony.

#sylus x non mc reader #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #love and deepspace #android!sylus au

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 1 year ago

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Sano 'Mikey' Manjirou - "While You Count Sheep"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which while your boss naps away on the sofa in his office, you sneak in and take off some of his workload in secret as usual. Or; In which even after years of being the loyal secretary to the head of Bonten, "Mikey", you still find yourself taking on more work than necessary if only to let the man sleep a few more minutes.

💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭

The door opens with the near-silent click of the latch sliding back with the turn of the handle. [Name] pauses his movements after taking a single step inside the room; his keen ears picking up the sound of his boss sluggishly shifting about in his sleep. He keeps his body still even after the sound movement ceases; it would be a bother if he were caught. Once he was sure the sleeping man had fallen back into the vice grip of rem sleep, [Name] fully entered the room and softly shut the door behind him before directing his attention toward the large desk in the center of the room.

Letting out a quiet huff, he sat himself in the well-cushioned office chair and lowered its height; making sure to keep a mental note of its original position for when he eventually made his exit. He looked over the various collections of paperwork that held themselves together with paperclips in a medley of colors. The normal clutter that frequently occupied the desk was more organized than usual, which, while slightly reassuring, was also alarming. It was almost as if Mikey had done it on purpose to make it easier for him…

Although, the thought of the majorly depressed, nearly sleepless boss of his knowing about his secretive escapades wasn't all that off-putting now that he thought about it. Mikey was someone who had nearly a sixth sense for danger and [Name] doubted that he would allow himself to sleep when he was unaware of his surroundings. The man had more trust issues than he had seen in anybody in his entire lifetime, but he was sure that it was warranted, even if he had no idea of the snow-white-haired man's past.

[Name] shook his head as he moved on to the next collection of papers, already having completed three while he took an occasional glance at his boss's sleeping form.

Perhaps, after he had finished a good two-thirds of this paperwork, he would try his hand at finding another healthy recipe that Mikey would like. The panda-eyed man's health was another one of his priorities. Even if it was Sanzu who usually takes care of that, [Name] couldn't help but want to pitch in as well. He was, after all, the second closest person to the head of Bonten out of all of its executives and employees.

“Hm…”

The quiet slurred hum of the sleeping man to his left drew [Name]’s attention for a moment.

He quietly observed the thin man's relaxed expression with interest. Ghostly pale skin that seemed almost white at times, thin black brows that told of his original hair color, long black lashes that lay atop the apples of his cheeks and deep and heavy bags that hung under his eyes. The man resembled an apparition more than he did a human being.

[Name] huffed once again, eyes trailing back to the task at hand as he made a mental note to ask Sanzu to add Vitamin D supplements to Mikey's list of needed medications.

As he invested himself into ‘his’ work he only vaguely paid mind to the quickly retreating daylight outside the window and the sluggish but certainly not involuntary movements of the supposedly sleeping man in the corner of his eye. Six piles of paperwork turned into five. Five turned to four. Four to three and three to two; and that was enough for now.

[Name] turned his gaze to the clock that hung above the doorway; 02:37, about six or so hours had passed by in what seemed like seconds. He sighed as he quietly rolled the chair back and stood up; staving off the urge to stretch and pop his joints with the reminder that his boss was still asleep only a couple of feet from him.

His eyes landed on said man and met with a pair of half-lidded, sleepy, abyssal black eyes. He froze, not daring to make even an inch under the near-predatory gaze of the panda-eyed man. Mikey, still half asleep, only stared at him unblinkingly before training his vision on the significantly more organized desk.

“You're done now…?”

Mikey asked quietly, yet his voice seemed to drown out all of the noise of the outside traffic that poured in from the cracked window.

[Name] only nodded, slowly beginning to move again as he sensed no hostility. He pushed in the office chair and adjusted the height back with one, two, three, and a half pumps of the peddle.

“... tell Sanzu I want dorayaki.”

The snow-haired man spoke again, adjusting his position on the plush cushions of the sofa and sinking into a relaxed lying position again, the blanket pulled to his chin.

“I'll tell him. I'll see you when you need me again, Sir.”

[Name] replied, giving a respectful bow and moving to exit the room at a quick but still cautious pace.

As he gently pulled open the door, the quiet voice of Mikey caught his ears again, making him pause in movements.

“[Name]... ”

He turned his head back to look at his panda-eyed boss, his posture respectful even as the white-haired man wiped the dry bits of crust from the corners of his eyes. How the man who masterminded the movements of Bonten managed to be cute and intimidating at the same time completely baffled him.

“... thank you.”

Mikey muttered as he flicked his eye crust off somewhere across his room.

[Name] offered a small smile and nod as he exited Mikey's office, quietly closing the door behind him.

It seems that he had been discovered since the beginning. How fun.

💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭•♡•💭

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

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rafesslxt · 4 months ago

Text

𝜗℘ ᶻ 𐰁 ⟢ ݂ drew vs. rafe buying a dog with reader

warnings: none, fluff

note: got inspired by my 4 yrs old dog and my 'new' boyfriend, he said he would never buy a dog blah but let's me move in with mine hahah and guess who's bathing her and cuddling her now? so, the rafe part is literally and completely my bf <3, english is not my first language

౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩 drew

⤻ with drew it was a easy task. he already loves dogs, is always surrounded by them and grew up with them

⤻ "you've got an album in your gallery of me with dogs?" he chuckled when he searched for a specific photo on your phone. "hey! that's private!"

⤻ you started with little hints like pointing at every dog in the streets that you saw walking by with their owners, especially when it was a couple

⤻ "wow, they look like a happy little family." you gushed while turning your head to look after them

⤻ "this space here is so empty. we should find something that will fit in here.", while pointing at a random corner in your shared flat

⤻ downloading an app with him where you have to take care of an digital little dog on your phones "wanna see If you'd be a good dad"

⤻ then one day, out of nowhere, drew would be like "okay love, what kind of breed do you want?"

౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩 rafe

⤻ just at the slightest hint you would get an immediate "no."

⤻ he says he doesn't have time for a dog and doesn't wanna have to babysit it all the time and take care of it's literal shit "but babe, I take care of your shit too the whole time!"

⤻ yeah, guess who didn't thought it was funny

⤻ and guess who also didn't thought it was funny when he came home and found you sitting in the yard with a freaking puppy sleeping on your lap while your left hand caressed it's fur and your other hand googling on your phone 'how to raise a german shepard'

⤻ "bring it back right now!" "I can't! I bought it!" "If you don't I'll do it y/n, I mean it!" "If you touch my baby, I'll rip your head off!"

⤻ it only took two days for rafe to slowly accept the fact that he had no say in this at all even tho it was his house you two lived in

⤻ "so.. what's his name?" "her" "what? you wanna call it 'her'?" "no, you idiot. I meant it's a her. you have a daughter." "oh lord help me."

⤻ two more days passed and when you got back home from grocery shopping, your dog was dripping wet just like rafe's clothes. you looked at them suspicious and before you could say something, he did. "I bathed her after she shitted herself." you looked at him for a second before you started laughing your ass off, almost tripping over with the two bags in your hands.

⤻ "I think I have a name for her." rafe raised a brow at you, currently sitting across from you with her on his lap, sleeping again after chasing birds and ducks in the garden the whole day. "April." "April?" "Yeah. Something cute but simple. We got her in april and I like that her name begins with an 'a' plus it means lively and fresh."

⤻ Rafe was silent for a moment, looking down at April before smiling and nodding "yeah, it fits her good baby, good idea."

⤻ months passed and you two took her everywhere with you. shopping, chilling on the yacht, you even got her on a supboard.

⤻ on some days you took her with you to the Pogues, chilling at the beach and sitting around the fire at night, laughing and having fun. everyone got along with her so well and she soon became a member of the little family you all were.

bonus:

⤻ after about 7 month later, April was already much bigger. you always took a morning walk with her through the streets, everyone greeting you two and smiling and your happy but protective dog.

⤻ the video that you posted in your story at 7:02 am:

hope you liked it boo‘s <33

xoxo sarah <3

#drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey headcanons #drew starkey oneshots #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron

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jaythes1mp · 11 months ago

Note

Cat reader idea: which one is your favorite. Like Damian would be nice but he’s always on you for improper diet (you ate fruit and not the horrid wet food he leaves out for you)

Dick has no sense of personal space and he wants to squeeze your adorable little toe beans despite your protests.

Jason would be okay but he practically steals you at night for cuddles and for your own safety. Nothing safer than sleeping with a knife under your pillow.

Tim is iffy, he just likes your company, but the moment you sneeze he’s sending you to the vet- even worse when you get out, using your chip to locate you.

Bruce and alfred just adore you, but only get to see you now and then due to their busy schedules, mainly petting you when they walk by or doing your training.

:3 hope this is accurate lmao

Okay, this is beautiful and a perfect way to incorporate some things into the fic.

More on cat shifter reader.

Damian is 100% on your ass, meticulously keeping track of your dietary habits, setting up charts to keep track of your meal times, ensuring that the family knows exactly what you've consumed and what not to give you. This way, he can ensure that you're sticking to the food plan he's designed, with zero room for deviation. He even resorts to constantly reminding Alfred and Dick not to give you anything, no matter how hard your adorable little eyes plead up at them. Determined to make sure you stick to his meal plan. It’s even worse when you’re in your human form, despite his repeated warnings. — and don’t get him started on Jason. The man is the most difficult of them all to control when it comes to your diet. He completely ignores Damian's instructions and will immediately scoop you up and secure you in the cat carrier attached to his motorcycle if you even hint at being hungry. Then, he'll spirit you away to his apartment without a second thought, offering you an array of forbidden human foods in exchange for your sweet meows.

Don’t think about attempting to escape through him however, that would only lead to being futile. He's engineered his bike with a series of safety precautions, meaning that if you even displayed the slightest indication of trying to jump out or escape, the restraints would immediately tighten, making it virtually impossible for you to break out. Let alone breathe comfortably.

Moving back to your diet; Damian has completely altered the Wayne Manor’s kitchen to cater exclusively to your feline dietary needs. He’s even managed to ensure that the rest of the family has adapted their own diets to match yours, to prevent any accidents regarding food you’re not supposed to eat. Despite your attempts to reason with him, Damian refuses to acknowledge that as a human, you can safely consume foods like chocolate without getting sick. You’re a kitten after all.

Though, if by some chance you do manage to infiltrate the kitchen, an assortment of only the finest fruits are packed at the ready for you. Small bits of cut up mango, fresh unpackaged pineapple, blueberries, melon, bananas, apricots, apples and watermelon at the ready. The fridge always stocked full of cooked meats, fluffy cooked rice, boiled eggs, and vegetables.

Damian might not be overjoyed when you venture from the specific meats and hundreds of lavish wet food brands that he's tasked Pennyworth to prepare, he still begrudgingly accepts it as a form of compromise. As long as you’re eating things that fall within his carefully controlled parameters, he can justify allowing it. He’s aware that you need some form of autonomy and independence to survive in the manor, unlike many of his brothers.

He treats you the most reasonably.

Dick is definitely one of the people who gets loads of little cat clothes to dress you up in and needs to have you in his little cat bag so he can take you around everywhere.

Who cares about the numerous concerned remarks regarding your drowsy appearance? Dick simply laughs off their concerns. His kitten is just tired, he promises! After all, it’d be quite a hassle to have to explain to every person who stops for a photo that it's nothing more than the effects of the medication he's given you to ensure you remain placidly content and docile during cuddle sessions and neighbourhood walks.

Once Dick starts on your adorable little toe beans, there's no stopping him. He gushes incessantly about the cute contrast of pink and black on your little paws and how they're just perfect for the miniature cat-themed socks that Alfred has patiently taught him to make. He gleefully coos over your small digits, marveling at how perfectly they fit into the little socks. Aren’t you happy your big brother made them for you? Can’t you just purr this once, please? He won’t even get mad if you kick them off or tear them to shreds again!

He’s definitely the type to have an entire wardrobe filled with little outfits for you. A nice red bow tie to get you to look nice and handsome or a warm purple sweater for you to look pretty.

Dick's affection for you remains steadfast, even when you shift to your human form. However, in his mind, you'll always be his precious little kitten, and no amount of whining, hitting, or swearing can convince him otherwise. He's stubbornly determined to shower you with love and care, undeterred by any resistance you may offer. The world’s just too big for you, and he needs to protect you from it. So come sit on his lap and stop whining, the movie’s starting.

In stark contrast to Dick, Jason has a clear preference for your feline form, showing little interest in you when you appear as a human. He often ignores you entirely, showering you with love and attention only in your feline body.

It's a double-edged sword, this dynamic with Jason. On the one hand, you've discovered a way to make him leave you alone – simply appear in your human form, and he'll instantly lose interest. He'll glare, shake his head in distaste, and then storm out of the room, grumbling incoherently under his breath as he goes. Unfortunately, when Jason realises your tactic to avoid him, he'll barge into Tim's room unannounced, no matter the time of day or night. Tim, due to his habit of staying up late, will inevitably be awake, and Jason will insist that he make you transform back. Following his forceful tactic of making you transform back, Jason will quickly switch gears and act as though nothing untoward has happened. He'll enfold you in a tight hug and bury his face in your soft fur, nuzzling against you affectionately, completely unbothered by his previous behavior.

Given your penchant for exploring the outdoors, Jason often takes advantage of the darkness of the night to whisk you away. He's aware that you need to experience life beyond the confines of the Wayne estate's gardens, and he prefers to do it when the rest of the family is less likely to notice your absence. Or rather, more occupied with their nightly duties so they’re unable to stop him from taking you.

You’re still under complete lock and key, but at least you get to experience the night air every once in a while.

If I had to pick my favourite out of the ones you’ve written I’d go with Tim’s. It’s the one I agree with the most.

Tim likes to keep you sedated. Having you laid out nice and docile on his lap, desk, or of the many cat trees that litter the place, while he works away on the batcomputer.

He’s the most precocious, being particularly meticulous when it comes to your well-being, even the slightest sneeze prompting him to arrange a visit to the vet. Monthly veterinary checkups are non-negotiable, and he ensures that your health is consistently monitored. Saying that, he’ll never take you to a hospital with doctors that specialise in anything other than animals.

A sleek, high-tech collar encircles your neck, constantly transmitting your vital signs in real-time to Tim's phone. Additionally, a microchip planted in your body and trackers strategically installed on various parts of your anatomy ensure that they can monitor your location at all times ensuring that under no circumstances are able to escape.

Tim is the one who suggested and ultimately confirmed your declawing, dismissing your protests and tears as mere tantrums. Despite your pleas and emotional outburst, stating that it would render you disabled — equivalent to cutting off your fingers down to the knuckle — he remains cold and uncompromising. Your objections are disregarded, treating your fears as if you were a pet throwing a tantrum, denying you any agency in the matter. If you didn’t want this to happen, you wouldn’t have scratched them in the first place. It’s easier this way, really. They get to look after you in human form and there’ll be no more scratching up their arms or the furniture.

Initially, Dick supported your side, recognising your profound distress and desperation. However, after a conversation about how you would be completely reliant on him while in your human form, he changed his stance. He stopped giving the issue a moment's consideration, fully accepting Tim’s conclusion.

When it came to the decision, Jason and Bruce were in favor from the beginning. For Jason, it meant his new couch would remain unscathed, and prevented you from clawing at Bruce during business meetings while he held you snugly in his lap.

The sole member of the family fiercely opposed to the idea of declawing you was Damian.

Nevertheless, to Damian's dismay and your own, you'll be made to undergo the declawing against your will anyway. Despite his disagreement, he'll still be there to gently bandage up the raw nubs where your former fingers once were, and he'll lovingly pet away your tears and sobs. You were still his kitten, he’d coo. Just a slightly less fierce one.

I’d have to disagree with you here.

Bruce will undoubtedly make time for you, despite any disagreements you may have. You're a top priority in his life, and he'll ensure that you receive the attention and care you deserve.

The eldest Wayne will go to great lengths to accommodate you in his busy schedule. He'll happily reschedule meetings and carve out special time just for you. If there's a vital meeting he can't avoid, he'll bring you along, insisting on having you by his side.

You’re theirs, through and through.

Thanks for the ideas! Any and all asks are encouraged and appreciated.

Previous cat asks: 1 2

Link to Masterlist.

Link to offical chapter

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simmerandwrite · 1 year ago

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Sink Into Me - 09 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09

Wordcount: 11k

Warnings: angst, allusions to dog fighting (but no mention of any kind of abuse), smut

Notes: here we go!! I have so much to say but I'll summarize it with a big thank you!! to everyone who read, reblogged and followed along for the journey. y'all made this so much more fun! can't wait to hear your thoughts!! and while this is the end of Sink Into Me, this universe may stick around for a while. a few more notes on this at the end ;) thank you thank you thank you! enjoy!!

“Hi,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes in the low light streaming in from his lamp.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, scanning you for any signs of distress.

You shrugged, taking in a deep breath. Then Steve took a step back, waving his arm to invite you in. You released your lungs slowly, nodding and following him inside. Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed and offered the open blanket to you, arms wide.

You just nodded again, crawling under the comforter and finding a spot - your spot - underneath his arms.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you pulled away from him. A strange empty laugh escaped you.

“I can’t believe… an hour ago… I was being held at gunpoint. That’s crazy. Isn’t that crazy?” The whole thing suddenly hit you like a ton of bricks, all of it. The ambush on your way home, the brute force, the cold rain, the gun.

“Sweetheart..” Steve sat up the same way you did.

You shook your head and shuffled to the side of the bed and planted your feet on the floor, sitting there as you caught your breath.

“Hey, hey. Just breathe, okay?” He scrambled off the bed, coming around the kneel in front of you. With one hand, he reached out and placed it on your knee. You dropped yours onto his and squeezed it. “I’m.. baby, I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, taking in a few deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered your name, brushing his thumb against your knee. “I’m sorry for everything. Ever since that day.. On the street, outside the restaurant, just by saving me - you had a target on your back and it’s my fault. I hurt you and put you in danger and it’s my fault.”

The silence washed over you both again.

Steve continued, quieter. “Is there anything I can do or say right now to help you? I know you’re probably scared and I can’t fix that but… your well being, that’s all that matters to me.”

You exhaled and opened your eyes. “I.. I’m hungry.”

Steve blinked. “Uh, okay. Sure. I can order a pizza or we could..” His lips twitched into a brief smile. “How about grilled cheese?”

—

Truthfully, Steve wasn’t always stocked up on the basics but this time he was grateful for what few groceries remained in his fridge. There was a strange silence as you headed to the kitchen. Steve got to work grabbing what he needed for grilled cheese making while you sat at his small dining room table.

Hercules followed you closely, finding a new place to sleep at your feet.

You fiddled with the tag of the tea bag in your cup of chamomile, quiet. The frying pan sizzled.

“Steve?”

Your voice drew his attention away from his task at hand. He turned. “Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the fire? At, uh, your mom’s clinic?”

He stilled then turned back towards the stovetop. He flicked off the element and plated the sandwiches, joining you at the table. He slid a plate across to you.

“I would have, eventually. I didn’t want to scare you,” he finally replied, biting on his lip before he continued. “There was a street gang making a big mess in Brooklyn years ago now. In this type of work, uh, gangs usually coexist. Not always peacefully, of course.”

You took a bite of your sandwich and watched Steve carefully.

“This particular group - called themselves the Red Skulls, led by this absolute menace Johann Schmidt.”

“Oh,” you tipped your head to the side, nodding. “I think I remember hearing about him in the news a few years ago.”

“Probably. They were fucking messy. Schmidt was a piece of work especially. There are a lot of things I do not tolerate in my city and he crossed a very serious line.” Steve rolled his neck. God, maybe he shouldn’t be telling you this. But what did he have to lose now? Honesty was all he had left. “Long story short - we took down one of the Red Skulls trafficking operations. They were kidnapping sex workers.” He took in a sharp breath, eyes closing at the resurfacing memories. “Ma looked after everyone we helped escape and Schmidt retaliated by setting fire to the clinic...”

And Steve had been at some fucking club that night. Volleying between shots of liquor and lines of coke, he nearly missed the most important phone call of his goddamn life.

Steve lost himself in his downward spiral of thoughts as memories of his mother’s recovery flashed through his mind. When he came back to reality, you were looking at him. There was a strange sadness in your eyes.

“That wasn’t your fault, Steve,” you said quietly, tearing off another piece of your sandwich.

He laughed, shaking his head. “The people I care about, the ones I love - you, included now - there is a target on their back, on your back. Forever. I pushed you away and for what? They still..” He dragged both of his hands down his face, head shaking again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. For.. everything.”

You blinked again, then looked down at your plate. “When you called me and broke up with – that day. What you said to me, it was so careless and..”

“Mean?” Steve finished for you. That’s what you had said. He was mean. No, he had been worse than mean. It was cruel and he had done it on purpose.

“Yeah. Why couldn’t you just be honest? If you care about me so much, how could you say those things?”

He wasn’t sure if he should answer, if he could. But you were looking at him and waiting.

“I don’t know,” he replied quietly, leaning back in his chair and gazing out towards the window. “Because I wasn’t thinking straight. I was emotionally compromised. Natasha barely talked to me for weeks after that night. That was another constant reminder that I really fucked up..”

You sighed. After a few beats, you finally found some words. “What do we do now?”

He looked back at you. “I know I hurt you. I think about it every single fucking day and I can’t undo it, I wish I could undo it.” He took in a hard breath. “I can’t even ask for you to forgive me because it isn’t fair. Not after tonight. Because after all this, how could you ever?” An empty, somber laugh rumbled through him. “I’m just.. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could press reset.”

The silence hung between you both again. You finished your sandwich and looked back at Steve.

“I’m tired,” you said softly, stifling a yawn. “Can I.. sleep beside you?”

Steve nodded. “Of course.”

–

You woke up the next morning in Steve’s bed, alone. Somewhere far away, probably in the kitchen, you could hear him on the phone. With a deep sigh, you got up and put yourself back together.

Hercules trotted towards you as you departed from Steve’s room. You followed him back towards the kitchen where Steve had put a modest little breakfast together. He ended his phone call when he saw you, then joined you at the table with a pot of coffee.

Your conversation was minimal. You briefly panicked as you recalled the fake meeting Ward had arranged for you with Hammond, but Steve was quick to tell you he had dealt with it.

Eventually, after your quiet breakfast, you asked to return to your own apartment. Steve insisted on driving you there and walking you to your door. When you got to your building, you noticed an additional security guard posted near the front desk.

You wondered if Steve had something to do with that.

When you got to your door, you opened it and let Hercules in before you turned to Steve.

You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t sure what was supposed to happen now. Truthfully, nothing felt real.

You felt numb.

“Are you gonna be okay here?” Steve asked, tipping his head just slightly to search your face. “If you wanted to stay at a hotel or–”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure. I’m just tired. I’m going to take the rest of the day to try and clear my mind.”

“Well, if you need anything at all, call me. Please.”

You hesitated. What were you and Steve now? Friends? Exes? Something more? Something less? You couldn’t figure it out and you were too scared to ask. What did you even want with him?

“Did you unblock my number then?” Your lips twitched into a momentary smile.

Steve didn’t smile back. He was serious and for a second, you watched as he hesitated to reply too. “Of course I did. I never should have..” He closed his eyes. “Call me, anytime. For anything. If something ever feels wrong or someone..” Releasing a long breath, he met your eyes once more. Your name left his lips, quiet, like a whisper. “I can’t figure out what else to say other than that I’m sorry. Again. I just.. I wish I could fix everything and erase what happened last night and.. I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life.”

You squeezed his closest hand. You didn’t know what to say. You raised yourself up slightly onto your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Then you disappeared into your apartment.

You called your mom that afternoon. And while you didn’t give her any details about what had happened in the last 24 hours of your life, you found it necessary to still call her and tell her how much you loved her. She didn’t ask why you were reaching out or question the way your voice cracked, but you knew she was concerned.

The rest of the day, you slept on and off. Eventually, you ordered in for dinner and forced yourself to sit with the feelings you were wrestling with. What was it? What was going on?

Were you scared? Yes, sure. Even though the incident had been isolated and specific, even though the men responsible were either in custody with law enforcement or being kept directly underneath Steve’s foot, you had reason to feel unsettled.

How could you deal with it though? Enough rational thought brought your heart rate down enough to strategize if anything ever happened again. Pepper spray on keychain, maybe one of those spikey keyrings that doubled as defense weapons.. A self defense class? Maria told you she had taken one before and she found it empowering. Maybe you needed to feel empowered, too.

It was strange though, as you let your mind fester over your feelings, one constant helped keep you steady and walked you back from your edge of anxiety. Steve. When you felt unsafe, Steve had helped you, protected you, saved you.

You didn’t even know what you were to him anymore and yet, he carried on as if you were the most important thing in the world. That helping, protecting, saving you was a responsibility he didn’t take lightly. Steve.. He just.. You just..

Steve. Steve was calling. You shook off your layer of feelings analysis and answered your buzzing phone, sitting up on the couch as you brought it to your ear. It was late.

“Hello?”

“Hey.. thanks for.. I wanted to check in, see how you’re doing. If I’m overstepping, feel free to hang up on me, though.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You’re not overstepping.” You’re being Steve. “I’m okay, yeah. Calm and mostly relaxed. I’m..”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He paused and you swore you could hear him overthinking what to say next. “Would you tell me the truth though? If you weren’t.. Okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I would.”

“I appreciate that, really. I know you don’t owe me anything but I’m worried.”

You smiled to yourself. “I’m okay.” You knew repeating it may not reassure him, but it helped you. “Oh, actually. I was thinking about something.. Uhm, when they..” You breathed in slowly. “When they took Hercules, they mentioned some weird threat about him fighting. Is that.. Does that mean they.. That there is a dog fighting, uhm, thing or..” You couldn’t even bear to finish what you were thinking.

“Bucky is already investigating, sweetheart. If that exists, we’re going to stop it. I promise you.”

–––

The next evening, Steve called again. To check in and make sure you were still okay. It was funny - because you had a feeling that his phone calls weren’t the only thing Steve had implemented when it came to ensuring your wellbeing. A new lock system had been installed at the front of your building and that same security guard was patrolling when you left for work that morning too.

The next night he called to see how you were. Then the next and the next and the next.

One night, after you told Steve that you were okay, again, you felt an urge to keep him on the line. For some reason, your conversation started to feel like they used to when you first met - friendly, but a hint of something else, something more. But did you want that? Did he?

“While I have you, though. I was wondering if I had to ask Clint for permission if I wanted to paint my apartment - do you know? Or is it like free reign?”

Steve laughed on his side of the phone. “I can get Clint to find you a painter tomorrow, if you want.”

“Oh, no.” You dismissed that idea quickly. “I want to do it myself. I think it would be fun.”

“Well then, since it’s my building, consider this your permission to paint whatever you want. And if you need some extra hands, I’d be happy to help.”

–––

A week later, you answered another late call from Steve.

“It’s late, I can let you go. I’m sure Hercules is already asleep beside the bed waiting for you..”

You smiled to yourself briefly, then sighed. “I’ve been in bed for a while, actually.”

“Oh.” You heard Steve pause. “You didn’t have to take my call.”

“I can’t sleep tonight.”

He paused again. His voice was slower this time, softer. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just..” It was probably just the late day coffee you had or the tight stress you were holding in your body. “..can’t sleep, I guess.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Maybe you could.. I don’t know, just talk a bit. Tell me a story? From your childhood or high school or something?” You stifled a yawn. “Anything..”

After another beat, Steve’s voice returned in your ear. “Okay. Let’s see. Technically I’m forbidden to share this story but me and Buck had to take a theater class in high school and..”

–––

Steve called you pretty early one night, just as you were coming home from picking up Hercules.

You dropped onto your couch and quickly pulled on the nearest throw blanket the moment you walked into the apartment. When you noticed Steve on the caller ID, you answered right away.

“Hi,” you said through a yawn, laying flat on the cushions. It sounded like Steve sighed in relief on the other end of the phone. “Steve? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Hey sweetheart,” he continued quickly. Damn. When he slipped in the sweetheart pet name, your heart got really confused. “Just nice to hear your voice.”

“Are you okay?” You repeated the question, sitting up from your lounging position.

“I am,” he confirmed. “There’s just something I need to tell you, before you hear about it on the news.”

“Okay..”

“Rumlow - Brock Rumlow.. You remember him?” Before you could answer, Steve laughed. “That’s a stupid question. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten Rumlow.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Steve’s commentary. “No, I haven’t forgotten Brock Rumlow.” Your momentary elation soon disappeared when you considered why Steve might be mentioning Rumlow by name. “What about him?”

“He died today.”

A silence fell between you. “In prison?”

“Yes. Considering how high profile his arrest was, it will likely make the evening news. Maybe it’s already published, I don’t know. I just wanted to warn you before you heard.”

“Okay.” You paused again. “Steve - did you–”

“This had nothing to do with me, surprisingly.” He let out some weird exaggerated laugh again. “I wasn’t his only enemy.” That was Steve choosing what to say and you supposed that was fine. The nitty gritty details really weren’t needed. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Even though he couldn’t see you, you shrugged, laying back down. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just.. it’s weird to say relieved but..I shouldn’t feel relief over someone’s death, right? Maybe I don’t know how to react.”

“That’s normal, I’d say.” He paused. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“I do get scared. I think about that night a lot.” You sighed. “But I’ve lived in New York long enough to know that the weird person on the subway probably doesn’t give a shit about me, so I shouldn’t be worried about them.”

“What weird person on the subway?” Steve asked quickly. You could hear him shuffling, maybe going from sitting to standing. “Where did you see–”

“Steve.” You cut him off, with a quiet laugh. “That was hypothetical. I’ve been alright lately, I promise. And remember, I said I would tell you if I wasn’t.”

You heard him let out a long sigh. “Okay.”

“Thank you for calling me and giving me a heads up though,” you continued. “Maybe I’ll mute my news feeds for a few days.”

–––

You [7:01PM]: what do you think? It has taken a few weeks from start to finish but…

You [7:01PM]: (IMG_9116) S Rogers [7:02PM]: that’s a great colour S Rogers [7:03PM]: so. what was the ratio of paint on wall vs paint on you? You [7:03PM]: wow! Rude. You [7:03PM]: 90/10 You [7:04PM]: (IMG_9121) S Rogers [7:06PM]: very cute S Rogers [7:06PM]: even with paint in your hair ;)

–––

Thanksgiving wasn’t your favourite holiday. The food was fine and sure, it was a great excuse for some time off work.

Into adulthood, you were really appreciative of the friendsgiving tradition instead. Especially because your mother was spending the holiday in Jacksonville with her cousin, leaving you mostly without plans for the big day.

Friendsgiving you took seriously. Claire was hosting this year, the weekend before Thanksgiving since she had to work on the holiday, and you had been tasked with dessert making, which was totally up your alley. Maria had offered assistance, so together you were spending your Friday night making the most out of your oven and counter space.

It was going well, although you had started a lot later than planned. It made for a late night but you were in good company with Maria. Having a night in with one of your closest friends wasn’t something you took for granted. Between flour measurements and preparing fruit, you and Maria spent the entire night talking. It was exactly what you needed.

Just before midnight, you were taking the pecan pie out of the oven and Maria was finishing off the dishes. Just as you turned to join her at the sink, a loud banging started at your door. You gasped, probably too loudly for a sane person, and met Maria’s wide confused stare.

Hercules awoke from his bed in your room and trotted towards the door, cautious.

You walked over behind him, holding your breath as another knock echoed.

“Jesus, Barnes - you’re going to scare her to death..”

Barnes? Was that.. Clint’s voice?

Maria followed behind you, pausing as you looked through the peephole.

“Who is knocking on your door at midnight?” Maria asked quietly.

You sighed. Bucky and Clint, apparently. What on earth?

After unlocking the door, you opened it, stopping the bickering men in the middle of their conversation.

“Hello?” You returned their awkward greetings with a small wave. “Can I help you?”

“What is that smell?” Clint’s eyes widened, looking over your shoulder into the apartment. “Are you baking?”

“Can I help you?” You repeated, turning your attention to Bucky directly. “What are you doing here?”

Bucky let out a breath before dragging a hand down his jaw. “So, here’s the thing, doll. My good friend Steve - you know Steve, right? He’s currently spiraling because you haven’t answered your phone or any of his messages all night..” He stood up a bit straighter, looking between you and Maria. “Given the uh..well, he’s just worried about you. Sent us up to check in.. And, since you are clearly very alive and safe, we should..” He paused. “Do I smell snickerdoodles?”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, inviting the men inside. Maria grabbed the container of fresh cookies and offered them each one.

“If Steve is concerned, why isn’t he at the door?” Maria wondered out loud.

“Boundaries,” Clint answered with a mouth full of cookies.

Bucky thwacked him on the shoulder. “Manners, Barton.” Bucky waited to bite his own cookie, then nodded. “He’s politely keeping his distance.”

You sighed, then looked over at Maria. You had filled your friend in on most of the details about you and Steve and what your recent reconnection looked like. Minus the whole warehouse rooftop situation. You weren’t sure how to share that. But the confusing new feelings and conversations.. They had proved difficult to process alone.

Not to mention that after you and Steve had broken up, your friends had loyally become very anti-Steve. Which you very much appreciated and if the roles were reversed, you’d have done the same for them. But people and relationships were complicated. You weren’t sure how your friends would react to the whole thing.

Maria, for example, had been incredibly cautious and resistant when you filled her in. Not that she didn’t believe in giving people second chances - but instead held true to the fact that all men were just big clueless morons who never did the right thing. You couldn’t fault her for that opinion either. But even if you figured out your own feelings and walls, you’d never be able to really date Steve again if your friends hated him.

“Hmm,” Maria leaned against your counter, removing the dish cloth from her shoulder as she organized her things. “Well, you should walk me out.” She turned to you. “Points to Steve for respecting boundaries and still caring about you, but I’d feel better seeing him grovel up close.”

Clint let out a belly laugh. “Me too”

While Maria and Clint headed out, you took the opportunity to put Hercules’ leash on for one last trip outside before bed. When you stepped into the hallway, Bucky was waiting for you.

“This isn’t my place and I know you’re smart enough,” he started slowly, dropping his hand down to accept a lick from Hercules. “But you know you don’t owe Steve anything right? I told him that the day might come where you don’t answer his phone calls and he has to deal with it on his own. If you close the door, he will keep his distance.”

You scrunched up your face, then shrugged. “Thanks, Bucky. Sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of emotional support for him.”

“You have no idea, doll. It’s part of my role as lifelong best friend, unfortunately. It’s a heavy burden to bear,” Bucky laughed, shrugging too. “He’s got some demons to work through - I guess we all do. Right now with you though? He’s trying real hard not to look like he’s trying.”

You caught up with Clint and Maria at the elevator then headed to the lobby. As you walked out, you spotted Sam leaning against the front desk, chatting with the overnight doorman. And then there was Steve - standing at attention, hands locked behind his back, an equal distance between the front entrance and the elevators. He was dressed in what you considered his normal attire - a crisp navy suit over a plain shirt, no tie. He made effortless look so damn good and you sort of hated it.

When he saw you, he took a few strides forward.

Bucky and Clint joined Sam to the side while Maria lingered behind your shoulder. Hercules tugged on his leash and pulled you towards Steve immediately, clearly overjoyed to see him.

“Hey,” you started as you approached. “I unintentionally ignored your calls, I’m sorry. Just plugged my phone in and forgot about it for a while.”

Steve shook his head quickly. You couldn’t help but see his resolve lighten, as if seeing you caused his shoulders to relax. “You don’t have to apologize. I shouldn’t have dragged everyone here, there was just this..” Whatever Steve was going to say, he seemed to change his mind. He blinked twice then scanned you. “Is that.. flour?” He reached and brushed your shoulder clean.

“We’ve been baking,” you filled in quickly, doing your best to try and read him. “Claire is hosting us for Friendsgiving tomorrow and–”

“You should come!” Maria blurted out from behind you.

With wide eyes, you looked over your shoulder at her. ‘What?’ you mouthed.

Now it was Maria’s turn to shrug. “Claire said her cousin had to bail so there’s an extra seat and..” She took a step forward, nodding at you in reassurance before looking at Steve. “And Luke will be there. So.. you know, you’ll have a friend..”

“I thought Claire invited Matt?” You couldn’t help but ask as your brain caught up to you. “That doesn’t..” You turned back to Steve. “You are more than welcome to come. I know you’re busy and have a lot of–”

“I’d love to,” Steve answered slowly, as if trying to make sure you were even okay with the concept. You reached out and grabbed his nearest hand, with a squeeze. That seemed to be reassurance enough. “What can I bring?”

Steve and his crew left shortly after, not before Steve gave you a soft kiss on the cheek. You forced Maria to join you outside with Hercules before her Uber showed up. The fresh air was something you really needed to cool down.

“So,” You turned to Maria, tipping your head to the side dramatically. “What the hell was that?”

Maria whined out your name, shaking her head. “That guy is in love with you. And trust me, he has a long way to go before I will trust him again, but damn. He looks at you like you’re the most important person on the planet. And I think you love him too.”

“Maria..” You sighed, leaning your head onto her shoulder. “I don’t know how things got so complicated.”

“I just want you to be happy and safe,” she carried on, giving you a small pat on the head. “I get that not everyone is into second chances but.. I don’t know, life is short. If you feel comfortable giving the guy another chance, then we could too. Maybe. Wanda for sure can get on board, Claire might have some reservations.”

“And inviting Steve tomorrow is supposed to be some test?”

“Obviously,” Maria smirked, looking like you had said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I think it’s only fair for us to really get to know him.”

–––

Claire lived in a beautiful rent controlled apartment in the middle of Harlem. She complained about the location every now and then - it wasn’t the smoothest commute for her to get to work - but at the end of the day, it was functional and roomy.

Which was good, considering you, Claire and Maria had rearranged most of her living room and kitchen area to host a dozen people for Friendsgiving. With a set of borrowed chairs and a folding table from Claire’s downstairs neighbour, you managed to set up the area just in time before everyone started to arrive.

When Maria had spilled in the group chat about inviting Steve to dinner, Claire had been apprehensive but on board, for your sake. And although you had been grateful for your friends’ open mindedness when it came to Steve, you were suddenly nervous about the whole thing.

Mostly because - oh god, what if he had a terrible time? Or what if he got a phone call in the middle of dinner and had to disappear? Was he going to bring a gun with him? Jesus, you hadn’t even thought about that and what if-

Claire dropped a hand on your shoulder. “Girl, you need to chill.” She urged a glass of your preferred wine into your free hand and sent you away from the kitchen area. “He’s just a man, remember.”

You laughed and clinked your glass with hers. Claire was always a good voice of reason, which you appreciated. You turned to her with a smile. “A good reminder, thank you. But speaking of men - why did you invite both your current fling and your ex to this?”

Before Claire could defend her own actions, Maria was answering a knock at the door and guests started to arrive. After a few arrivals, you were the one greeting at the door and you couldn’t hold back your smile when Steve showed up, with Luke at his side.

“Hey,” you said, politely stepping aside to let Luke in while you lingered in the doorway with Steve. “You look nice.” It felt silly to say but you couldn’t help yourself. Steve had traded his typical suit for a pair of dark brown slacks and a knitted red striped polo. His hair was perfectly coiffed and you just wanted to… kiss him. Damnit.

Steve smirked in response, pulling you into a side hug. “You look nice, sweetheart.” Okay, yes, you had picked out one of your favourite dresses. But that was because you wanted to dress up for Friendsgiving, that was the only reason.

After he shed his coat, you noticed Steve was carrying flowers. You didn’t even have a moment to comment on them before he headed towards the kitchen, where he presented the bouquet directly to Claire. She accepted them with a smile, and when he turned away, you caught her eye. She pointed towards the flowers and mouthed ‘Ten points!’

It didn’t surprise you that Steve managed to socialize effectively with everyone he just met, but he truly did such an impressive job holding conversations. Before dinner, he engrossed himself in a chat with Claire’s on-again-off-again ex-boyfriend Matt, the lawyer, and his coworker Foggy. They seemed to have some common interests in certain legal matters that mostly sounded incredibly boring to you.

Steve stayed within your orbit and even when you were in the kitchen finalizing a few things with Claire, you caught him looking your way. Why did that make your heart beat so fast?

You sat at his side for dinner and when everyone was going around sharing what they were thankful for, Steve’s hand found your knee under the table. When you said you were thankful for all the people in your life (and your dog, of course), Steve gave you a delicate squeeze and rubbed his thumb against your thigh.

After dinner, he found you in the kitchen.

“You know, Bucky was bragging all night about your cookies,” Steve saddled up beside you as you leaned against the kitchen counter, while you nibbled at the last piece of apple pie. Steve grabbed a spare fork and joined you. “They ain’t got nothing on this pie.”

You smiled. “Glad you liked it.”

“Apple is my favourite,” Steve replied, licking his lip after cleaning off his fork. “Ma makes a good one but I think she has some competition.”

“That seems like really high praise,” you laughed, leaning against the counter. Steve mirrored you, resting his hand behind your back. It was subtle, maybe even barely noticeable, but he very slowly started to trace circles against the soft fabric of your dress. You were melting. “I’m really glad you came. Hopefully it wasn’t too painful for you.”

He tipped his head to look at you. “We will have to thank Maria for inviting me.”

When Steve politely offered you a ride home, you couldn’t say no. Since you were both heading towards the same area of Brooklyn, it made a lot more sense than taking the subway. As you were leaving, Clarie, Maria and Wanda all gave you the same friendly judgemental look. You accepted that as approval for your actions, departing with a small smile and Steve’s hand at your back.

In typical Steve fashion, he walked you inside and to your apartment door. And then he even happily joined as you took Hercules outside for some air.

Then, well, the night was over. Steve had come to dinner, Steve had brought you home. What else was there to do?

“You can share those cookies with Bucky,” you said with a smile as you stood in the hallway, between Steve and your door. You were sending him home with the rest of the snickerdoodles. “Or keep them all to yourself.”

Steve smiled, raising his hand to brush it through his hair. God, that was sexy. Had that always been sexy? What was going on? Why were you feeling this way?

“Thank you again for letting me join you tonight,” he said slowly, then his feet shuffled forward half a step closer to you. “Hopefully your friends don’t hate me.”

You laughed, sliding your tongue across your lips. You watched his eyes dart down, watching carefully. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Steve..”

Then he leaned in, holding your hips with his hands, and pressed his lips… to your cheek. You tried not to deflate.

His palms lingered against you for a moment, then he pulled back. You couldn’t read his face.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

–

You texted him well after midnight.

You [1:12AM]: are you awake? S Rogers [1:12AM]: yes

Steve answered your call after the first ring. “Is everything okay?”

You couldn’t believe you had actually hit ‘call’ but something deep within you compelled you to. It was dark in your bedroom and you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. You had been restless in bed for over an hour as his face flashed through your mind. Steve with his broad shoulders. Steve with his lingering hands. The way his chain bounced on his chest, how he growled when he came…

Just moments ago you had reached into your bedside table for your little vibrating toy. It wasn’t the first time you had put it to use thinking about Steve. But this time, you were imagining him tearing off that knit polo, the lingering smell of his aftershave, his weight on you.

If you couldn’t feel him, maybe you could hear him.

“I’m fine..” You said slowly. “Are you at home?” It occurred to you he might have gone directly to Shield after he dropped you off.

Your name left his lips, drawing your attention back to the call. “I’m home. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“What’s wrong is..” You tried to steady your breathing. Your voice dropped down. “.. you’re not in bed beside me.”

Silence. Then, you heard his breath hitch. “Baby..”

“I can’t..” You were whining into the phone. “I want to come, Steve. Will you help me? Please?.”

He chuckled, lowering his voice. “I can’t say no to that request, sweetheart. Tell me - what are you doing? You using that toy?”

“Uh huh,” you preened back. You had been sliding it across your skin, teasing yourself for as long as you could. “I’ve been thinking about you, Stevie. You and me.”

“Me too, baby. Fuck.” You could hear more shuffling on his side. Christ. Was he touching himself too? “Listen to me, I’m going to help you. Bet you’re already wet, aren’t you?”

You just whined in response.

“Turn that toy up a notch, baby. Circle your clit real slow. And what about your nipples? God, if I was there–”

“Tell me, please. If you were here..”

Half an hour later, as your laboured breathing settled after two quivering orgasms, Steve wished you goodnight and sweet dreams.

–––

Given it was the night before Thanksgiving, your boss has been flexible when you had to dash out early. The frantic call from Kate at the dog daycare had been surprising, but thankfully your heart rate steadied out when you learned that Hercules was okay. They hadn’t spared any other details, but politely asked owners to come collect their dogs earlier than usual.

Truthfully, you had barely been functional at work all week anyway. Sure, you went through the motions and got your tasks done but before a long weekend, most people were half-assing their responsibilities anyway. And your mind was still racing after Friendsgiving dinner and the phone call with Steve and… Steve.

Fuck.

You were one of the last to arrive at the daycare, patiently waiting in line to check Hercules out. Once you had him, leash in hand, you turned to leave. Then you spotted Natasha and Yelena chatting quietly to the side of the room, and, well, you couldn’t help but follow your gut.

You saw Yelena there quite often, but Natasha was a rare sighting. Ever since your conversation with Steve after the whole warehouse incident, something had been pricking at the back of your mind.

“..Natasha barely talked to me for weeks after that night..”

Taking a deep breath, you headed toward the sisters. Luckily, it seemed like their conversation had come to an end anyway as Yelena rushed past you with a hurried hello, then joined Kate somewhere behind the scenes. Nataha remained planted where she stood, scanning over her phone. She tipped her head up as you approached.

“Hey,” you started out slowly, offering a reluctant smile.

Nat crouched briefly, greeting Hercules with a few head scratches before she met your gaze again. “How are you?”

“I was wondering if.. you had like two minutes to chat?” You asked, eyes closed tight as you anticipated her answer. You weren’t sure what it was about Natasha, but she intimated you immensely. You weren’t scared of her but something made you want to impress her.

Natasha looked at her phone again, eyes narrowed, then back to you. “I can give you five.” With a nod of her head, you followed her behind the front desk and into the small staff kitchen area opposite the main daycare space.

While Natasha dropped onto one of the well worn couches, quickly joined by Hercules as you let go of his leash, you couldn’t steady yourself. All at once, your burning questions and thoughts swirled around in your mind. Then, you took a deep breath and opened your mouth.

“Steve told me a few weeks ago, that when we broke up.. he said you stopped talking to him for a while. I wanted to ask you why..” You raised a shoulder up to shrug, then watched Natasha from across the room.

After a few beats, she let out a quiet laugh. Then, she leaned forward on the couch, elbow resting on her knees, and she stared at you. “Can I be frank with you?”

You swallowed, then found a chair to sit on near a small table. “I’d rather you be Natasha..” When that clearly shielded attempt at humour landed no response, you cleared your throat and nodded. “Yes, please.”

Natasha sighed. “Steve trusts me and when he asks me for advice, I don’t sugar coat it. Dating Steve is not an easy task and your wellbeing is his top priority. So I get why he made his decision. But I did firmly advise him not to be an asshole about it. It was going to hurt you either way, but it was up to him to control the delivery.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well, he did a terrible job.” It didn’t sting as much anymore – really. Given how much your friendship or whatever had evolved with him now, the words didn’t echo through your mind like they used to. You understood why he had made his choices and you could see his remorse in every interaction you’ve had since. Of course, it wasn’t possible to erase what had happened but you and Steve both looked back at it differently now.

Natasha relaxed again, pressing her back into the couch. “I have known Steve for a long time and I have rarely seen him act as selfishly as he did. You deserved better than a breakup over a phone call. Jesus, when he told me what he said – I should have gut punched him. In an attempt to protect you, he fucked up something good for you both. It’s bullshit and embarrassing.” Another sigh escaped her. “And, you didn’t hear this from me, but Steve has never let himself be happy. Because this world and this work can really leave you numb. He was so different once you came into his life, it was something else. So, I was rooting for you two.”

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm up with her last sentence. This seemed like something rare, a secret revealed from someone prone to privacy.

“I see why he made his self sacrifice with you. It is classic Steve, if he cares about something, he cares deeply and shows it.” She pinned you with a stare, giving you another once over. “Here’s the thing. You get to decide if you want to forgive him but if you look back over everything – every single moment with Steve – was there a pattern that makes forgiveness worth it?” Her phone, which had been resting on the couch beside her leg, started to vibrate. “Shit. I’ve gotta take this.”

Natasha stepped away briefly, keeping her tone hushed.

Christ, you probably need a therapist to start unpacking everything that Natasha had just presented. Was there a pattern?

Yes.

Every single action from Steve since the beginning had been, well, selfless. He was constantly putting your needs above everything else. The day you saved him outside the restaurant, he took you to the one person he trusted the most for care. When you called him in distress during your apartment break in, he didn’t hesitate to come help you.

He picked up on your subtleties, your fears and concerns. He moved you to a safer apartment, he protected you from unsavoury people, he pleaded for your understanding, he always left you feeling satisfied. More importantly, he let himself be himself around you. You loved seeing the personal, soft side of Steve. You.. you loved Steve. And maybe it was time to take the leap of faith again - because you missed him when he wasn’t around.

Fuck.

Before your logical brain could catch up and decide what to do with this revelation, Natasha was standing in front of you again. Her eyes were hiding something.

You held your breath when she finally spoke.

“So, speaking of Steve…”

–––

Ever since that night, at the abandoned warehouse, on that rooftop.. Steve had been on edge. More than before. You were constantly on his mind, and despite his efforts to ensure you were safe, he couldn’t settle.

Well, until he got to hear your voice every night. That… that started to mean more to him than he could explain. It was different this time around - the slow build to flirting, wrapped underneath a foundation of familiarity.

But it felt like that spark from before had returned, though he couldn’t act on it.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Bucky had been his voice of reason through all of the confusing feelings. He kept Steve grounded in reality - that the ball was in your court only, forever. If you were ever going to humour Steve again, it was your choice, at your pace. And maybe it would never happen. Bucky had reminded Steve more than once.

Every agonizing decision Steve was making lately had you at the forefront. Maybe it wouldn’t end up how he wanted it, but if you were safe and secure and happy, nothing else mattered.

Though it had been completely irrational for Steve to make the crew rush to your apartment on a Friday night, the precautionary gamble ended up paying off. Not only were you perfectly safe, but Steve had somehow managed to end up with an invitation to dinner with your friends.

And dinner had gone surprisingly well too. The moments with you and in your world, away from his own, had been so calming. A reminder that life existed outside of the seedy underbelly, where friendly conversation and good food were the only reason why people got together. God, he had enjoyed every minute of it. But more than anything, he was happy to be at your side.

Leaving your doorway that night with just a simple kiss on the cheek had been hard for him to do. But everything needed to go at your pace. If that meant an inappropriate late night phone call, he’d help you out, too.

He was fucked.

Admittedly, the past few days had been a welcome distraction following Saturday night. Some events in his business life ended up escalating way quicker than Steve had anticipated - which largely meant ignoring other priorities (and thoughts of you) to assist Bucky with his latest project - the dog fighting ring investigation.

Steve had kept Rhodes in the loop about their plan, much to the former DA’s dismay. Steve had made it his own personal mission to take down this underground operation and he promised Rhodes the public credit. But Steve needed the NYPD to turn a blind eye to their plan.

The ambush took place that Wednesday afternoon, with Bucky, Steve, Sam and a few additional men breaking into an abandoned facility in north Queens and going in with plenty of ammunition. They recovered nearly a dozen dogs, most of which immediately went to a veterinary hospital to be checked out. The pups who didn’t need overnight care were to be transferred to Kate’s facility for the weekend, with the costs covered by Steve.

But, after all was said and done, not everyone had left unscathed. Four of the people organizing the dog fighting were sent to a hospital with some severe wounds thanks to Bucky. And Steve, out of all people, had ended up with a pretty dramatic gash in his left arm from one of the dogs. He didn’t blame the poor animal for the situation, of course. But medical attention was necessary.

That was how he ended up at his mom’s clinic - once again. Sarah Rogers had, of course, greeted him warmly then delivered a firm lecture to him about his personal safety.

Just as Sarah was finishing up cleaning his arm and applying a few temporary sutures to the area, there was a small commotion happening somewhere beyond their room at the entrance.

Steve didn’t hesitate to rush towards the lobby area, finding the intake nurse addressing someone at the door. That’s when he saw who that someone was - you.

Maybe he had lost more blood than he thought, but damn. With the late afternoon sunset streaming in, backlighting you perfectly, it looked like a halo of light. A perfect ring of light framing you, like an angel - as you desperately asked the front desk nurse about Steve, where he was, if he was okay.

The nurse was caught in a repetitive loop, explaining that she couldn’t say who was at the clinic and insisting that dogs weren’t allowed in the building and you needed to leave and –

Steve took a few steps forward, calling out your name.

Sarah hurried behind the desk and calmed down the girl who sat there, quietly pulling her to the side to leave Steve alone. With you.

“Steve!” You blinked twice and rushed towards him, stopping yourself before you crashed into his chest. “Natasha told me you were here and.. What happened?” You reached out and carefully grabbed his arm, where fresh gauze covered the bite.

Steve answered quickly, removing your hand from his arm and raising it up to kiss the back. “It looks worse than it is, I promise.”

You smiled at him and nodded. “Okay. Good.” Then you took a deep breath. “And all the dogs - they’re safe?”

“Yes, sweetheart. All receiving the care and rest they deserve.” Before Steve realized what was happening, you were throwing your arms around him. He whispered your name softly, rubbing a hand down your back.

You pulled back and met his soft gaze. “Steve..” You scanned over him again, as if double checking what he said was true. Aside from the bandaging on his arm, Steve truthfully was unharmed. His emotions had been a rollercoaster but for some reason, seeing you had helped settle most of that.

His hand moved and cradled your jaw for just a moment, before brushing against your cheek. “Did you rush all the way here because you were worried about me?”

Your eyes widened before you shook your head. “What? No. I’m not.. It was Hercules, actually, who wanted to make sure all the dogs were okay.”

Steve couldn’t hold back his grin. “Right.”

“We-” You motioned your head towards Hercules, who was sitting patiently nearby - “weren’t sure what Natasha meant when she said you were injured and..” A long slow breath escaped you. “I just needed to see you.”

Steve could understand your panic, given how he had dramatically rushed to your apartment building over the weekend. Those parallels weren’t lost on him. It had to mean something, right? It all had to mean something.

Your reunion was interrupted by Steve’s ringing phone, where he cursed under his breath before moving his hands from you. “I’ve gotta take this, I’m sorry.”

While Steve took his call from Bucky, you were quickly greeted by an excited Sarah, who grabbed your hand and pulled you away to catch up.

–––

Following your reunion at the clinic, Steve had one of his hands on you. Behind your back, holding your hand, his own hand on your knee on the drive back. He only let go briefly to let you hug Sarah goodbye, after you accepted her invitation to Thanksgiving dinner the next day.

Now, back at your apartment, all you could think about was what was Steve, Steve, Steve. His phone had buzzed with another call from Bucky the moment you stepped inside. He apologized before answering, and you could have sworn you heard him cursing his friend out.

You refreshed Hercules water and food bowls then went into your bedroom, trying to tidy the place up. When you went to pull your blinds down, you couldn’t help but find yourself distracted by the city. Although your view wasn’t as impressive as Steve’s penthouse, you could see into the Brooklyn streets below. At the right angle, you could even see the final orange glow of the sunset through some of the buildings.

It had proved to be a big enough distraction because you didn’t even hear Steve end his call or walk into the room behind you. Instead, you felt his hands on your shoulders, slowly wrapping around and pulling you against his chest. His lips brushed the top of your head.

“Everything good?” You murmured as his hands started to trail their way down your body.

“Mmhmm,” Steve replied quietly, dipping his head down, breathing hot against the side of your neck. “Is this okay?”

You closed your eyes. “Yes but..” It took everything in you to pause, but you turned around in his arms and did just that. “Wait.”

He immediately stopped what he was doing, removing his hands from you as he searched your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answered too quickly.

He said your name knowingly then repeated himself. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Okay, okay. I’m just going to say it. Steve, I want this again - with you. I want us to press reset but I’m really fucking scared.”

You watched Steve absorb your words. Telling the truth was something you knew you had to do, but you hoped Steve understood. He was still, but you could see his brain computing.

“And it’s not about the… rooftop thing. Although.. I definitely don’t think back to that night fondly.” You shook your head as you continued. “I’m scared you’re going to change your mind again. Because I don’t know if I can feel like that again. I’ve convinced myself that the good feelings outweigh that risk but..” Your voice cracked. “I’m scared.”

Steve grabbed your hands and turned you enough to help you sit on the bed. He crouched down in front of you, tracing his thumbs across your knees. “Sweetheart. Hurting you was the biggest regret of my life. I know my words can only mean so much but I want you to hear me.” You met his gaze and nodded. “I’m an idiot. An idiot who will do everything in his power to prove to you how much you mean to me. I can’t undo what I said and resetting doesn’t make it go away. But I love you and want to make this work for us if you’ll give me this chance.”

You raised your hands and cradled his face. “That was quite the speech.”

He smirked. “I mean it, baby. Every word.”

“Okay.” You took in another breath then let it out slowly.

“Okay?” Steve asked.

“Okay, let’s reset.” Your hands left his cheeks, carding through his hair as your lips crashed into his. Kissing Steve didn’t feel like going back to the beginning though - it felt like picking up where you left off.

Steve didn’t waste a moment responding, hands traveling to the back of your neck to steady you as he pushed you down on the bed. Everything happening now, in that moment, was all that mattered to you both. Steve wanted you, you wanted him. Nothing else needed to make sense.

Your hands roamed down Steve’s torso as he hovered over you, pulling at his shirt and trying to make quick work of the buttons. Steve shed his shirt without his lips leaving you, pressing hot wet kisses against your cheek, down towards your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, gasping when his teeth grazed your shoulder.

“Less clothes,” he whined out, removing himself from you long enough for your top to come off. He stood off the bed briefly to slip out of his pants, while you shimmied out of your jeans. You were left in just your underwear, some very unsexy unmatched set.

But lord, the way Steve looked at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said firmly, crawling back over you on the bed. He braced himself above you again, tracing a finger up your jaw to tip your chin up.

You felt your cheeks grow warm. “Steve..”

‘“I’m sorry if what I said… on that phone call - if it ever made you doubt how fucking beautiful you are.” He dipped his head down and met your lips again, softer this time. “I love you, the shape of your body..” He trailed his kisses down you again, towards your chest. “Your heart..” His hands moved down the same way, tracing gently across your chest, along your soft stomach, on top of every single piece of you that you didn’t always love. “I love all of you.”

“Steve,” you whimpered under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please don’t make me cry.” You choked out a laugh, tipping your head back to mind your happy tears. When you looked back, he was staring at you with a lovestruck smile again. “Thank you. I love you too.”

He grinned, once again leaning down to press his lips to your skin. This time, it was just above your belly button. “It’s okay to cry, sweetheart. But how about I make you come instead?”

How could you argue with that?

Steve surveyed your form intently as he got back to work, hands and lips peppering against your skin. He slid his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs. You helped to kick them away, just as Steve was licking his lips.

His eyes flicked to you. “Lay back, baby. Get comfortable.”

You were quick to shift on the bed, into your pillows. Just as you rested your head back, you felt the bed sink slightly just between your legs. Then the soft kisses that had been decorating your skin were inside your thighs. And then–

You let out a whimper when his mouth met your center. You knew you were already wet, but when Steve growled against your clit and slid a finger into you, it felt like a flood.

“Oh my g-god, Steve.” With one hand, you grasped at his hair. The other dragged across your chest, pulling your own bra down to grab your nipples. “Yes, yes, please.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, breathless as Steve continued stroking, suctioning against your clit as your moans grew louder. When another finger entered you, crooked inside in search of just the right spot, you nearly combusted. And when you did careen over the edge just moments later, Steve didn’t slow down.

In a daze you sat up slightly to watch him work. He was drowning in you, his own hips grinding against the bed as he consumed you. Jesus fucking Christ - that was hot. Steve was hot. This - this was hot.

“Steve,” you called for him as his mouth finally slowed down, returning to slow kisses against the inside of your thighs again. He looked up and met your eyes, drunk with love and contentment. “I need to feel you - please.”

“Okay, baby,” he replied with a soft smile. “Let me take care of you.” He shucked off his boxers and crawled up the bed again, hovering above you once more.

You raked your hands over his chest when he was close enough, gripping his hips as you pulled him down and kissed him. Your own taste lingered on his lips and tongue as he breathed into you.

“You ready?” He asked softly, reaching between your waists to position himself.

“Mmhmm,” you whispered, pressing another kiss against him. “Please.”

“Fuck,” Steve cursed out, eyes closing as he pushed himself in. God, you fit together so well. Once he felt comfortable, watching you for the right signs of pleasure, he moved out slowly before finding a rhythm.

“Steve, I missed you so much..” You wrapped your hands around his neck, in an attempt to keep him as close to you as possible. With one hand, he held one of your legs up, just enough to elicit better friction. And with the other, he cradled the back of your neck. “Missed this - this stretch..”

You could feel him smiling as he kissed you again. His hips sped up, adding just enough extra pressure that you could really feel him. You’d feel him tomorrow, too.

“My girl,” he said breathlessly against your neck. “Always. Mine..” His mouth ravaged your neck and shoulders. “Want this forever.. Want you forever..” He slowed down momentarily. “Wanna fill you up, baby.”

“Yes, yes please..” you said in return, scratching across his back with your hands as you braced yourself. A low growl escaped him as he came. He tensed up as he finished, weight heavy on top of you as you both caught your breaths.

As his head rested near yours, his lips pressed against your earlobe. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I love you.”

You were still laying in a daze when Steve returned to you in the bed after cleaning up, placing a cup of tea on the bedside table closest to you. His own matching cup rested in his hands. You sat up, pulling up the sheet with you as you rested against the headboard.

Shifting slightly, you pivoted to look at him. “I really missed you.”

He grinned. “So you said.”

“No, not just that.” You gave his shoulder a small nudge, careful not to jostle his tea. “I just like being around you.”

His smile softened. “Me too.” He drew in a long breath and moved his cup to the side table before continuing. He said your name, drawing your gaze to his. “Resetting doesn’t make who I am go away.”

You gulped. “I know.” He seemed to be searching for what to say next, so you continued instead. “I can’t pretend to understand why you do what you do. And I don’t decide what is right and wrong. Neither of us do.” You took a deep breath. “But I want to be with you. That makes me feel a little bit crazy but maybe that’s part of being in love.”

Steve laughed. “You’re in love, huh.”

Rolling your eyes, you fell into his side. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“And I love you, baby.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, against his heart. He kissed your forehead. “I’m going to keep my professional life at bay. I won’t be able to stop it from bleeding into this but I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I take that privilege seriously.” You felt him squeeze you a bit tighter. “Though I do think there are some precautions we can take, too.”

“We?” You pulled back slightly and watched him.

“I’m going to get you something for your keys and pepper spray for your bag. How would you feel about taking a self-defense class?”

You scrunched up your face as you considered. “It has been on my to-do list for a long time.” Even without a high profile partner like Steve, knowing you feel prepared in times of danger was something you knew was important. You probably should have prioritized it sooner, really.

“Natasha teaches a class, actually. At her gym.”

“Natasha has a gym?” You nodded. “Yeah, okay. I could do that. Will you take the class with me?”

Steve laughed again. “I don’t need self-defense training, sweetheart.”

“But then we can practice together. C’mon, pleeease.”

Steve groaned, but it was evident very quickly he’d do anything you asked. So, he nodded. “Fine.”

You paused. “You’re not going to make me carry a gun, are you?”

“First of all, I’d never make you do anything.” He sat up a bit straighter, face stern. “And no, absolutely not. I hope you are never in a position where that kind of defense is required.”

You settled against him again. Big conversations like this were expected and you knew it made sense to feel a bit scared still. But, that wasn’t the feeling lingering in your stomach anymore. No, it was more like… safety, contentment, familiarity.

It was something akin to being home.

–––

Shield closed down on Christmas Eve and reopened on New Years Eve, so you weren’t sure why Steve needed to check in there in the middle of the holiday week. Sure, his office was upstairs but he had vowed to do as little work as possible over your days off together. And yet, after a lovely dinner together, he apologetically announced there was something there he needed to check in on.

You had shared a few delicious plates at May’s, a small Italian place in Queens. Steve had given you a history of the restaurant on your way - it was one of the first properties he invested in years ago so it was clearly a special place. When you arrived, the server had immediately showed you to a more intimate table tucked away in the back corner.

Wine and food arrived at the table without a menu or many words exchanged between the server and Steve. After you had finished eating - polishing off one of the best tiramisus you had ever tasted - the restaurant owner, May, came out to say hello.

When you left without mentioning a bill, you had a feeling that the business Steve did with May extended beyond just being a landlord. You didn’t ask any questions though.

Over the last month with Steve, the questionable moments were quite rare. He really did maintain the boundary between his personal life and everything else, with only a bit of a crossover. You had joined him at the club a few times - because you realized dating the club owner eliminated all the awful things you hated about going out. You never had to wait for entrance or for a drink ever again. Your friends especially liked the free drinks and safe rides home, too.

That was only a fringe benefit of being with Steve though. What really stood out to you was just Steve. Getting to know each other all over again had been exciting and fulfilling, in many ways.

You kept up your nightly phone calls. Well, when you weren’t crashing at his or him dropping into your bed, you kept up the calls. You had spent Thanksgiving with him at Sarah’s and were greeted with boxes of childhood photos to fawn over. For Christmas, you, Steve and Sarah had all travelled up to Albany to spend the day cooking and celebrating with your mom.

Slowly, it seemed your worlds would be blending together. And you weren’t really sure what the future was going to hold and how that might transpire, but you decided it was worth seeing what could happen. Because being with Steve seemed worth it.

“I promise this won’t take too long,” Steve’s voice broke you from your thoughts, as he parked his car near the back exit of the club. It was a small lot reserved for Steve and Shield staff members only, currently only occupied by one other black car. You weren’t sure who that belonged to. Maybe Natasha was there doing inventory of the bar before New Years.

You gave him a smile from the passenger seat, leaning over to meet his lips for a kiss. “Remember that we have a big day of sleeping in without an alarm tomorrow so..” He smirked. “Take all the time you need.”

Steve bounded out of the car and raced around to help you out, extending his hand to ensure you stepped safely onto the asphalt. You had dressed up for dinner, picking out your favourite black dress paired with some heels that didn’t cause you too much pain to walk in. Steve had grinned like a schoolboy when he picked you up, which made you feel, well, beautiful. You had paired the dress with your Christmas gift from him - a stunning gold and diamond pendant, shaped like a wing. A matching wing now sat with the chain on his neck, too.

You clutched Steve’s hand as you headed through the backdoor of the club. From the dark back hallway, you could have sworn you could hear music playing somewhere. Maybe it was just the memory of whatever song was just playing in Steve’s car.

As you twisted down the hallway, past the back office, storage rooms, and the back stairs up towards the second floor, the music grew a bit louder. You definitely heard music. You tried to ask Steve what was going on but he just squeezed your hand, threw a mischievous grin over his shoulder and carried on.

When you finally made it to the main club area, it was still pitch black. The music kept playing. You grasped both of Steve’s hands in a panic and by the time you had formed a sentence to ask a worried question, the lights powered on.

But it wasn’t the regular industrial overhead lights. Nor was it the multicoloured pot lights that danced around to match the beat of the club music. No, this was something else.

Above you, the multicoloured lights were steady and emitting just a soft blue tone. Across the open railings above, partitioning off the downstairs area from the VIPs upstairs, various strands of string lights were hung and illuminated. It made the club area feel almost intimate.

You dropped Steve’s hands and turned around, speechless as you took it all in. On the end of the bar, you spotted a bottle of champagne sitting on ice with two matching glasses waiting. The music playing above you switched to something softer. An old song crackled through the speakers.

You turned back to Steve, who was gazing at you.

He stepped towards you, hand extended. “Dance with me, sweetheart?”

How could you say no to that request?

Steve helped you take off your coat and discarded his own. Then he pulled you towards the very center of the room, under a now spinning disco ball that splashed flickers of light around the space.

“Steve,” you started, resting your head against his chest. One of his palms cradled the small of your back while the other grasped your hand, hovering in the air as he led you in slow circles.. “Did you do this all just for me?”

He chuckled. You could feel it rumble through him. “Bucky helped me out.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand in response. You didn’t know what to say.

And maybe that was okay, because at that moment, it was just you and Steve. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I promise I’ll always dance with you.”

FIN

-----

Author's Note: Thank you again so much for reading! I have a few ideas for additional one shots in this AU, including a smutty little threesome fic and a small story with Bucky and a girl from the club. if you have any questions or want to know more about this universe or Steve and Reader, please please drop into my inbox or the comments!! love you all!!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #steve rogers x you #mob boss steve rogers #mob boss steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #story: sink into me #simmerandwrite #simmerandcry

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dearly-somber · 11 months ago

Text

body art | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. f2l, slow burn, eventual romance, eventual smut, mutual pining, fluff, university!au

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 2598

-> warnings. lots of touching (not inappropriate); sexual tension 🤡

-> a/n. Listened to Pictures by ECÂF for the entirety of this one and whoOo bOy 😮‍💨. The brain-juices were Flowing

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Mar. 4th, 2023 @ 20:07

-> fin. Sun., Jun. 23rd, 2024 @ 03:32

-> edited. Mon., Jun. 24th, 2024 @ 02:35

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn, @saradika-graphics

Sometimes, Jungkook feels like the biggest idiot on planet earth. Forgetting about a very important, fast-approaching project deadline happens to be one of those moments.

What sucks more than that is that he was tasked to do something in a medium far from what he usually does (oil pastel), but now that he has very little time to prepare, he also needs something that won’t take him more than 24 hours to complete.

He bites on his lip, pacing around the empty art studio with his hands on his hips. His buddy Eunwoo does a lot of body art, he thinks… he’s always said that it’s pretty snappy. Not that Eunwoo doesn’t spend time on his craft, just that the simpler pieces take significantly less time to do than anything else Jungkook’s tried (with the added benefit of being in a medium wholly different to his go-to).

If he can pull this off, Jungkook will be one step closer to passing his midterm.

“Aish, fuck it,” he mutters, striding across the room to the dirty white plastic table stacked with his art supplies, picking up his phone with a concentrated furrow in his brow as he dials Y/N’s number from his Favorites list before bringing his phone up to his ear, anxiously chewing on his thumb.

She picks up on the fourth ring. “Kook-ah?”

“Y/N.” He automatically smiles at the sound of her voice. “Hey,” he sighs, “sorry for calling you so late—“

“Not at all, Kook. What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now?”

“No…?” She pauses a moment. “Why? Did you need something?”

Jungkook sighs into the other line, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... Can you come to the studio?”

“The one on-campus?”

“어…”

“Sure. I’ll be there in five.”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

“What haven’t you done?” Y/N asks as soon as she steps through the threshold, a teasing smile on her lips.

She throws a plastic bag filled with snacks beneath the table, the plastic inside crinkling on impact as she takes a seat on top.

“A project,” Jungkook laughs, hoping she doesn’t hear its nervous crack.

“How much’s it worth?”

“Like… half my grade.”

“Jungkook—“

“I know. I know, I’m sorry.”

She laughs, not unkindly. “What’re you apologizing to me for? It’s your grade.”

“I know,” he mumbles, running his palm over his face with a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t like disappointing people.”

He looks at her with a pitiful smile. “You especially…”

Y/N’s brows furrow as she hops off the table to hold his hands, coaxing his gaze up with an encouraging tug. “I’m not disappointed, Kook.”

He nods noncommittally, tonguing at his lip ring while staring at their intertwined hands instead of her soft smile.

“What can I do to help?” she asks then, running her thumb over the back of his tattooed hand.

“Actually,” he sighs, “that’s why I called you.”

“Oh?” she asks, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Jungkook clears his throat and lets go of Y/N’s hands to show her the large tubes of acrylic paint he stole from Eunwoo’s work station. “I was hoping you’d model for me.”

Y/N’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, her lips parting in a surprised o-shape that makes Jungkook’s heart flutter. “M-model? For you?”

He smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “for me. You know how Eunwoo does body art?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I needed to do something different for this project, and body art seemed like it’d be the fastest and most efficient option, so…” He laughs awkwardly, tapping the tube of yellow paint against his thigh. “Here we are.”

“Doesn’t Eunwoo usually hire models?” Y/N asks.

“Well, yeah, but…” Jungkook shrugs. “I figured you’d be willing to help a guy out.”

Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes with a growing smirk that makes Jungkook’s stomach twist. “You’re lucky you’re right, Wolfie.”

He scrunches his nose at the nickname, nevertheless feeling a massive weight lift off his shoulders when Y/N giggles and punches him in the arm, walking to the centre of the room with a happy smile.

“How do we do this?” she asks.

Jungkook hums thoughtfully, imagining how he’ll transfer the rough sketch he came up with while waiting for Y/N to arrive from the scrappy piece of paper he’d had lying around onto her skin.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he mumbles distractedly, sucking air in through his teeth as he finally settles on going greyscale, lining up the handful of paint tubes from lightest to darkest, turning to the side to grab different sized brushes and a plastic cup of water. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Obviously,” Y/N says, smiling at him when he turns around to give her a deadpan look. “Can I help?” she then asks, standing over his shoulder.

“Uhh…” He turns to her, suppressing his urge to scent her and instead wracks his brain for something for her to do. “Oh! Why don’t you get some of that plastic covering there against the wall and lay it down on the floor for me?”

“Where?” She eagerly grabs a clean roll and struts determinedly to the middle of Jungkook’s work area. “In the middle?”

“Yeah, there’s fine.”

“Why on the floor though? Also, does it matter? The floor’s just as paint-ridden as every other surface in this room.” Y/N laughs as she smooths the plastic crinkles out, ensuring it’s flat against the floor.

“It’s so you don’t get dirty,” Jungkook mutters, squeezing small amounts of paint onto his palette before grabbing his brushes and making his way over to where Y/N is now standing confused in the middle of the room.

“What do you mean?” she asks suspiciously, watching as Jungkook slowly crouches to put down the brushes and palette before going back to the desk to grab his water and set it down alongside his other tools.

“You’ll have to lay down on your stomach,” he says, laughing at the deadpan look she gives him. “What can I say? Your back is the perfect substitute for a canvas.”

Y/N sighs dramatically, getting down on her hands and knees with an old-man groan that makes Jungkook grin.

When Y/N sits back on her haunches and turns to look at him with a slight furrow in her brow, his grin dilutes only a little bit. “What is it?”

“I need to take my shirt off, don’t I?”

Well, shit.

“Uh…” Jungkook, also on his haunches, feels like an idiot as he gapes at her, trying to wrap his head around his current situation. “Well, yeah.”

He has to internally yell at his wolf to shut the fuck up. “You’ll have to take off your bra, too.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, and Jungkook hastily backtracks. “The strap’s gonna get in the way of the painting,” he explains, “so unless you’re fine with me painting over it…”

She bites down on her lip, nervously fiddling with her fingers in a way that makes Jungkook frown. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Y/N. If you’re uncomfortable I can just paint over your shirt—“

She pulls a scandalized face. “No! This is my, like” —she tugs at the hem of her shirt, looking down at the Harley Quinn illustration with a furrow in her brow— “second favorite shirt.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asks, a little confused.

“The one with your face on it,” Y/N says with an evil grin, cackling when Jungkook deadpans at her.

Of course she’d like that one.

“Seriously though. You don’t have to,” Jungkook reassures her again, his palms flat against his thighs.

Y/N searches his face for a second before shaking her head. “It’s okay,” she says. “I can do it.”

Jungkook checks her face for any sign of hesitation before he nods and turns his head to the side, last-minute turning back to stop her. “Here.”

He tugs his shirt off and lays it down in front of her, spreading it a little before sitting back again. He clears his throat at the way Y/N’s eyes roam over his body, heat crawling up his back at the sensation.

“So you can lay down on it,” he explains hoarsely, clearing his throat again as he turns away, squeezing his eyes shut.

She whispers a thank you under her breath, the room turning dead-silent as Jungkook’s ears hone in on the sound of rustling fabric and a bra-clip being unhooked.

“‘M done, Kook-ah.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, praying to whatever god is out there to help him be normal about this in ways he knows he’d be otherwise incapable of.

The moment he opens his eyes, all thought of normality flies out his brain like someone opened it up, called it empty and yeeted it across the room.

Y/N’s back is strangely ethereal.

Prominent shoulder blades guide his eyes down her spine, his eyes drinking in the valley of smooth skin like a starved animal.

The only thing that snaps him out of it is the sudden and very intense urge to lick her. (He blames his wolf and refuses to take accountability.)

Shaking his head on right, Jungkook hurries to shuffle closer, his legs tingling from disuse.

“So…” Y/N starts, clearly trying to fill the silence. “What are you painting?”

Jungkook laughs a little, grabbing the thickest brush he has and lathering it in titanium white, shifting close enough for his knees to touch Y/N’s sides. “I dunno if I should tell you.”

“What?” she whines. “Why?”

“Because you’ll make fun of me,” he says pettily, whispering a warning under his breath before setting the tip of his brush to her skin.

Y/N gasps at the sudden cold. Jungkook watches her with a tiny smile, waiting for her to relax her shoulders before he continues lathering paint on in the faint shape of a box.

“Just tell me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jungkook~” she whines, pulling a laugh from his throat with barely any effort at all.

He snickers as he shakes his head, finishing up the background before swirling the brush around in his water, grabbing a separate, thinner brush and dipping it in a blob of wet concrete-grey paint. “I’m drawing us.”

“Aww,” she squeals, giggling when Jungkook over dramatically sighs at her antics. “That’s super cute and all, Kook, but aren’t you supposed to be doing something different? You draw portraits of us all the time.”

“I know,” he says, tongue sticking concentratedly out the corner of his mouth. “That’s why I’m drawing us as animals.”

She gasps loudly. “Really!? Are you finally doing another Wolf-Y/N drawing?”

“I should keep that in mind for next time,” he chuckles. “But no, I’m making you a rabbit.”

“Of course you are,” she whispers, though Jungkook can’t help but think he hears a note of fondness in her voice. “So, what? You’re the big bad wolf, then?”

“Since when was I bad?” Jungkook scoffs.

“I dunno. Since you started slacking on your school work.”

“It’s one time!”

“It’s worth half your grade!”

Jungkook pouts, humphing. “Whatever. It’s a cute painting.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My wolf’s tail’s all curled up ‘round you… you’re all sleepy, ‘n’ stuff,” he mumbles.

Jungkook swears he hears a smile in Y/N’s voice as she says, “That is pretty cute.”

“Yeah…”

Their conversation trails off as Jungkook focuses on his work, gradually laying out the groundwork for the line art.

When he finally starts working on it, though, he mumbles a short apology before swinging a leg over Y/N’s ass, straddling her lower back so he’s centered.

“You okay?” he asks, trying to keep his weight off her back.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Don’t need a break?”

“I’m fine, Kook. You can keep going.”

Jungkook clears his throat, mentally swatting the dirty thoughts away as he leans down to start on the line art, using his wrist to keep his hand steady as he uses his arm to keep his lines smooth and at an even thickness level.

“Would you have gotten someone else?”

“What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back to get a better view of his piece, but also to try and shake off the feeling of your skin on his palm.

“If I said I couldn’t make it, would you have gotten someone else to model for you?” Y/N asks, trying (and failing) to keep her voice neutral and nonchalant.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think I would have.”

“Why not?” she whispers, her heart beating a little louder in her chest.

Jungkook shrugs even though she can’t see. “I dunno. This feels too… intimate, to do with anyone else,” he admits, leaning back down to finish up the bunny’s line work so he can move on to the smaller details.

She hums softly, the vibration tangible against Jungkook’s hand. He’s been so hyper-focused on every little feel, he barely has time to register what he’s doing before he finds himself with his nose pressed to the back of Y/N’s neck.

“Kook-ah?” she whispers, a shiver running down her spine as Jungkook huffs out against her skin, hot all over and a little dizzy.

“Sorry, bunny,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. “You smell nice.”

She giggles, and Jungkook relishes in the wave of oxytocin that blasts him right in the face.

“You know, sometimes it’s like you can’t go thirty minutes without doing something to remind me you’re part dog.”

“I’m not a dog,” Jungkook grumbles, unaware of the slight growl in his voice as he takes another whiff of Y/N’s scent, letting it wash over him.

She shivers again, and that seems to be adequate enough for his wolf to let Jungkook pull away again. He mumbles an apology as he brushes her hair over her shoulder, sitting up straight and taking a moment to breathe deeply.

“You smell nice too, by the way.”

Jungkook laughs a little, wiping off a small smudge of paint as he finally stands to grab the digital camera he keeps for the moments when he wants to capture something he’s made for later review, wiping his paint-stained hands down on his pants.

“Is that so?” he teases lightly, telling Y/N to stay still as he stands over her, lining up the shot and taking a couple before he finally gives her the okay.

“You have a really nice smell,” she explains almost defensively, pulling her shirt back on while Jungkook’s back is to her. “You smell like… like rain, and that vanilla laundry detergent you like so much.”

She bends to grab and then throw Jungkook’s shirt at him, smiling as he leans back against the table with a smile of his own.

“I’m glad you think it’s nice,” he says, not bothering to hide the smugness to his tone but hoping she can’t tell with some kind of best friend magic that her liking the way he smells can also be interpreted as a (as she would call it,) “wolfy” thing.

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, he drills to himself.

“Whatever. You took pictures?” She stands next to him.

“Mm. I’ll give you a copy once I get them printed.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

“‘Course, bunny.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stands on the tips of her toes to wrap an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, guiding him out the door with a strength and determination that surprises him.

“Now,” she says, “let’s get fucked. I know a great place like, down the road from here.”

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kentobb · 7 months ago

Text

hiromi higuruma x female secretary (AU).

chapter 01 > chapter 03

chapter 02

The clock ticks past 6 PM, and the office gradually empties. Chairs roll back, murmured farewells echo through the room, and one by one, your coworkers head out for the evening. You glance at the documents you’ve been working on, triple-checking them for errors. You want to make sure Mr. Higuruma has everything ready for tomorrow.

You stack the papers neatly, take a deep breath, and knock softly on his door.

“Come in,” his deep, serious voice calls from the other side.

You step inside, clutching the documents like a lifeline. His office looks the same as it did this morning—imposing and orderly. He’s seated behind his desk, still focused on whatever he’s reading. Without looking up, he gestures to the corner of his desk, and you carefully place the documents there.

“I’ve prepared these for tomorrow’s meeting,” you say quietly, keeping your tone professional.

He finally looks up, nodding slightly. “Good. We’ll be meeting with three clients tomorrow morning at nine. Make sure you’re familiar with the case files. Punctuality is crucial.”

You nod, his words weighing heavily as always. “Understood, Mr. Higuruma.”

As he speaks, your eyes involuntarily drift toward the trash can by his desk. Your breath hitches as you see it: the coffee cup. The sticky note is still attached, crumpled at the edge. He hadn’t even touched it.

Your heart sinks. You snap your gaze back up, trying to mask your reaction, but you can feel the disappointment twisting in your chest. It wasn’t just the coffee—it was the thought, the effort, the last eight dollars on your card. Money you couldn’t really afford to spare.

Higuruma’s sharp gaze follows yours, and his eyes settle on the cup. He notices the shift in your expression, the sadness flickering in your eyes before you quickly look away. For a moment, he says nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line.

You nod curtly and step back. “Good evening, Mr. Higuruma.”

He watches you leave, the click of the door closing behind you louder than usual in the quiet room.

From his desk, he can see you gathering your things at your desk, preparing to leave. He doesn’t mean to watch, but his eyes linger as you shrug on your coat and sling your bag over your shoulder. The faint slump in your posture as you walk out of the office sticks with him.

He leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly. What is wrong with me? The coffee wasn’t just a gesture; it was an apology. And he’d thrown it away, letting his own rules and detachment dictate his actions.

“Great start,” he mutters to himself bitterly.

The evening is cold, and the streets are dimly lit as you walk home. Cars rush by, headlights casting fleeting shadows on the sidewalk. You shiver, clutching your bag tighter, your mind replaying the image of the coffee cup in his trash.

When you finally reach your apartment, you unlock the door and step inside. The small space is quiet, almost empty. You toss your bag onto a worn chair and head to the fridge. The cool air greets you as you open it, revealing its meager contents: a single apple.

You take it and sit down, biting into it slowly. It’s not much, but it’ll hold you over until payday. The thought of finally getting your first paycheck brings a small smile to your lips. You’ll make it. Somehow.

The next morning, you arrive on time, determined to focus on your work. You organize the files on your desk, aligning everything perfectly. The rhythm of your tasks soothes your nerves, and you fall into a steady pace.

At precisely 8:45, Higuruma enters the office, impeccably dressed as always. You don’t look up, too engrossed in arranging the materials for the meeting.

“Good morning,” he says, his tone professional but neutral.

“Good morning, Mr. Higuruma,” you reply politely, still focused on your work.

You don’t notice him approaching until he’s at your desk, setting a cup of coffee down beside your neatly arranged papers.

You blink, your gaze shifting to the cup and then to him.

“They accidentally gave me two coffees,” he says, his voice as composed as ever. “I didn’t have anyone else to give it to.”

You stare at him for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. It’s a blatant lie, and for a second, you’re almost touched that he’d try to cover his guilt with such a clumsy excuse.

But you shake your head gently, offering a soft smile. “Thank you, Mr. Higuruma, but I don’t like coffee.”

His expression doesn’t falter, though a flicker of something—embarrassment, maybe—passes over his face. He nods curtly. “I see.”

You turn back to your desk, pretending to return to work, and he walks back to his office without another word.

Once inside, he closes the door and leans against it for a moment. Of course, you don’t like coffee. What were the odds?

He glances at the cup still in his hand. His attempt to make things right had backfired spectacularly. Setting it down on his desk, he exhales, shaking his head.

But as he picks up his files for the morning meeting, his gaze lingers on the untouched coffee, and a faint twinge of guilt refuses to fade.

It’s still early morning as you enter his office, a neat stack of documents in your hands. You’ve been thorough, ensuring everything he needs for the client meetings is organized and ready. He glances up from his desk as you step in.

“These are the files for the meeting, Mr. Higuruma,” you say, your tone professional and steady.

He nods, his gaze sharp as always. “Thank you. Are you prepared for the questions they may ask regarding their case details?”

“Yes, Mr. Higuruma.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

He rises from his chair, every movement composed and deliberate, and you follow him down the hall to the building’s exit. Outside, his driver waits beside a sleek black car, opening the door for the two of you.

The ride starts in silence, the soft hum of the engine the only sound. He’s reading through the documents again, his brow furrowed as he analyzes the case. You sit beside him, adjusting the files whenever he finishes a page, ensuring everything is in order.

Just as he’s about to say something…

“Ms. Y/L/M—” he spoke softly.

the car swerves violently to the left.

A loud screech pierces the air, followed by the deafening crunch of metal against metal. Everything happens too fast.

The world spins as the car slams to a halt, the impact sending you forward. The airbags deploy with a jarring force, the white fabric slamming into your chest. There’s the sound of shattering glass, the high-pitched whine of bent steel, and muffled voices yelling in the distance.

Higuruma blinks, disoriented. His ears are ringing, and his hands instinctively press against the dashboard as he tries to steady himself. He turns his head, his vision swimming, and sees you slumped against the seat, glass scattered across your lap.

“Y/L/M?” he says, his voice sharp with worry.

Your head tilts slightly, and he notices the dark crimson streak trailing down the side of your forehead. His breath catches as he leans closer, gently grabbing your shoulder.

“Hey,” he calls again, his tone more urgent.

You blink slowly, confusion clouding your gaze as you try to focus on him. Your lips part to say something, but nothing comes out.

The driver stumbles out of the car, blood trickling down his temple, while the guard already has his phone out, frantically calling for help.

Higuruma turns back to you, his hands trembling slightly as he inspects you for injuries. There are deep scratches on your arms, red welts forming on your skin, and shards of glass embedded near your wrist. His heart pounds against his ribs as he assesses the damage, but it’s the dazed look in your eyes that terrifies him the most.

Then you look at him, your gaze locking onto his. For a moment, the chaos around you fades.

His cold, professional demeanor cracks as he stares into your eyes. There’s something fragile and unspoken in the way he looks at you—a flicker of emotion he hasn’t felt in years.

Your lips twitch into the faintest of smiles, and you open your mouth to say something, but your eyes flutter closed before you can get the words out.

“Y/N!” His voice is louder now, bordering on panic. He shakes your shoulder gently, but you don’t respond.

He presses his fingers to your neck, finding your pulse—it’s there, but faint. His jaw tightens as he glances at your injuries again.

The chaos outside barely registers as his focus remains on you. Glass crunches underfoot as the driver returns to the car, mumbling something about an ambulance being on its way.

Higuruma’s usual calm is gone. His hands hover over you, unsure of where to touch without causing more harm. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Stay with me,” he says, the words trembling slightly.

For the first time in years, he feels fear. It grips his chest like a vice as he watches your still form.

The sharp wail of the ambulance siren fills the air as the paramedics work tirelessly to stabilize you. Higuruma sits stiffly in the back, his usual composure fractured into a thousand pieces. His gaze is fixed on you, lying on the stretcher with an oxygen mask strapped to your face, your pulse weak but present.

“She’s stable for now,” one paramedic says, but their words do little to calm him. His hands rest tensely on his knees, his blood-stained shirt a constant reminder of the chaos. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t interrupt, only watches as they assess your vitals and ensure you’re alive.

When they arrive at the hospital, the paramedics rush you through the emergency entrance, wheeling your stretcher with urgency. Higuruma follows close behind, his long strides determined as he moves through the brightly lit halls.

“Sir, you can’t go in there,” a nurse says, blocking his path as they take you into the treatment room.

“I’m staying with her,” he insists, his voice low and firm, though it trembles slightly at the edges.

“I’m sorry, but only medical staff is allowed inside,” the nurse repeats, trying to keep her tone calm but firm.

He clenches his jaw, a flash of frustration breaking through his usual restraint. “Do you understand that she was just in a car accident? She’s alone in there!”

The nurse holds her ground, though there’s a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. “I understand, sir, but we need to do our job. Please, wait in the waiting area. We’ll inform you as soon as there’s an update.”

For a moment, it looks like he might argue further, but he exhales sharply, stepping back and letting his shoulders fall in defeat. He turns and walks to the waiting area, each step heavier than the last.

The chairs are cold and uncomfortable, but he sits down without complaint, his mind replaying the accident over and over again. The way the car swerved. The sound of the impact. The blood trickling down your face. The way your eyes met his for that brief, heart-wrenching moment before you closed them.

“Sir,” a nurse approaches, her tone gentle. “You’re injured too. Let me take a look.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“Your shirt is covered in blood—yours and hers. Please, let me clean it up. It won’t take long.”

He hesitates but eventually nods, allowing her to attend to him. She cleans the cuts on his arms and forehead, her hands swift and practiced, but his thoughts remain elsewhere.

“You’re lucky,” the nurse says softly, breaking the silence. “It could’ve been much worse.”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the floor as his mind continues to drift. When she finishes, she hands him a fresh bandage for his palm and walks away.

Moments later, the sound of approaching heels draws his attention. He glances up and sees Shoko Ieiri striding toward him, her lab coat flaring slightly as she walks. Her expression is a mix of exasperation and curiosity.

“I heard you were making a scene in my hospital’s waiting room,” she says, crossing her arms.

He rolls his eyes, clearly bothered. “I wasn’t making a scene. I was ensuring she wasn’t alone in there.”

Shoko arches a brow, leaning against the wall. “You know her?”

“She’s my new secretary,” he replies curtly, as if that explains everything.

“Interesting.” Shoko glances at the chart in her hand. “Her records say she has no family listed as emergency contacts. It’s… unusual. We usually recommend someone stay with the patient in cases like this.”

Without hesitation, he says, “I’ll stay.”

Shoko blinks, momentarily surprised, before nodding. “Alright then.”

“How is she?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“Stable,” Shoko answers. “She lost a good amount of blood, and it didn’t help that her glucose levels were low. She’s resting now. We’ll keep her for two days to monitor her, but she’ll recover.”

He exhales, relief washing over his features. “Good.”

Shoko hesitates for a moment before adding, “There’s something else. She doesn’t have health insurance. That could complicate things if there are further tests or follow-ups needed.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Higuruma says instantly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Shoko tilts her head, studying him curiously. “You’re awfully invested in your secretary,” she remarks, a teasing lilt in her voice.

He frowns, not appreciating her tone. “She was in an accident on my time. It’s my responsibility.”

“Right,” Shoko replies, smirking slightly. She doesn’t press further, shrugging it off as she stands.

As she turns to leave, he calls after her. “Can I see her?”

Shoko pauses, looking over her shoulder. A small, knowing smile crosses her face. “Sure. Just don’t wake her up.”

He nods, rising from his seat as she gestures toward the hallway leading to your room. His steps are deliberate as he walks, his mind racing with thoughts he can’t quite articulate. For now, he just needs to see you, to know you’re alright.

The curtain slides open with a faint rustle, and Higuruma steps inside the dimly lit room. His breath catches as he sees you lying there, your face pale against the stark white of the hospital bed. You’re sleeping, the steady rise and fall of your chest the only indication that you’re stable.

For a moment, the weight in his chest lightens, replaced by a quiet relief that he’s unaccustomed to.

Shoko lingers by the door, observing him with a knowing smile. “She’ll be fine. Just needs rest.”

He glances at her, offering the barest nod of acknowledgment. She smirks faintly before leaving, the click of her heels fading down the hall as she pulls the curtain closed behind her, granting him privacy.

Higuruma turns his attention back to you, slowly stepping closer until he’s beside your bed. His usually steady hands feel strangely unsure as he pulls the chair closer and sits down.

For a long time, he just looks at you.

Your arm is wrapped in fresh bandages, the scratches cleaned and dressed. There’s a small patch over the cut on your forehead, but even in this state, you look peaceful—far removed from the chaos and terror of earlier. He exhales deeply, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, watching the subtle movement of your breathing. The harsh fluorescent lighting overhead casts a sterile glow, but it does little to dim the warmth he feels slowly creeping into his chest.

His mind begins to wander.

How did this happen? Not the accident, not the blood or broken glass—but this feeling. This unshakable pull toward you, this need to make sure you’re alright. You were just supposed to be his secretary—a professional addition to his meticulously managed life. Yet somehow, in such a short span of time, you’ve become more than that.

He closes his eyes briefly, his usual stoicism crumbling under the weight of his thoughts. It’s unlike him to linger, to let emotions cloud his judgment, but sitting here now, he can’t bring himself to leave.

His gaze softens as he looks at you again. The memory of your sad eyes, the coffee in his trash can, flashes through his mind. He feels a pang of guilt, his chest tightening as he recalls your quiet apology and the way he brushed it off.

Maybe this time, he thinks, he could start with the right foot.

The thought lingers, surprising him with its weight. He’s never cared much about first impressions; results are what mattered to him. But with you, it feels different. The moments they’d shared—tense, awkward, and frustrating—suddenly feel like threads binding your lives together.

A faint sigh escapes his lips as he leans back in the chair, his eyes never leaving you. For now, all he can do is wait. Wait for you to open your eyes and, perhaps, give him a second chance.

#jjk #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma #higuruma fluff #fluff #angst

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yuriko-mukami · 9 months ago

Text

Star-Crossed Canvas

Chapter 01 || Chapter 02 || Chapter 03 || Chapter 04

Inspiration for this story came from the art I commissioned and a conversation with @ruki-mukami-dl 's admin. After talking about the art piece with her, I simply had to write this. She has betaread the story. For the longest time, I have wanted to write a DL drama CD-like story, yet, it seems I'm unable to pull off the script-styled writing. I admire everyone who can do it, but personally, I feel like I can't express my visions properly with that. So, once again I went on with prose. Still, I would say that this story is also inspired by DL drama CDs. And I actually would love to see what kind of star-crossed canvases other DL OCs would run into with their lovers. So, if you find the theme inspiring enough, make your own version of it. And tag me. I want to see it too.

Art made by @dlyuiannii as a commission.

Chapter 01

“You have two hours.” The teacher gazed at the third-years she had brought to the special exhibition of the art museum of Kaminashi City. It was sponsored by Sakamaki Tougo and was only open during late hours. “I want you to walk through the museum, pick up a painting, and analyze it. Make notes on how the artist has used colors and how that relates to the artistic trends of the era. Later you will write an essay where you combine these facts with your personal experience of the painting.”

Yuriko listened closely to everything the teacher said and wrote down the instructions. So interesting! She peeked at the earlier notes she had made during the classes. Yosh! She could pull this off!

Suddenly, Yuriko felt how arms snaked around her waist and a jaw landed on her shoulder. A familiar musky scent greeted her nose, making the corners of her mouth instantly curl up.

“Did you get everything, my angel?” Ruki’s whisper sneaked into Yuriko’s ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Yuriko nodded and lifted her hand, showing her notes to Ruki. “Yes. I think so. I know what we are supposed to do.”

“Good girl.” Ruki chuckled. “Then let us go. We need to find our piece of art.”

Their piece of art. Yuriko’s heart skipped a beat. Ruki wanted to use the same painting as her which meant they could do everything together before writing their essays. And later they could compare their thoughts. So perfect!

“Yes, let’s hurry.” Yuriko pushed the notebook into her school bag and meandered around, meeting Ruki’s gaze. “You know… I’m happy that you decided to join me in the art history class.”

Leaning in, Ruki brushed Yuriko’s bottom lip with his thumb. The touch was brief, yet it sent an electric pulse through her body.

“I am not interested in wasting my time trying to draw or paint something. But this requires a different kind of skill set. One that suits me well.” Ruki let his hand slide along the column of Yuriko’s neck before laying it on her shoulder. “Since you insisted you wanted to participate in an art class, this seemed the best possible option.”

And off they went. Ruki captured Yuriko’s hand with his cold one and led her away from their classmates who were just about to start to look for the piece they wanted to analyze. Yuriko gazed around in the dim lighting of the museum. Only the paintings had lights above them but everything else was covered by shadows.

It would be a hard task to pick up one painting only. Everything in the exhibition was extraordinary like it had been a collection of lost pieces of art. Yuriko had never seen them before, not even in books. They all had an aura of mystery around them – she could almost smell it – and they seemed to belong to different eras of human history around the world.

“Umh… Ruki?” Yuriko peeked at the Vampire as they proceeded further into the exhibition halls.

Ruki squeezed Yuriko’s hand as if telling her that he was by her side. “What is it?”

“The teacher… She said that this exhibition is sponsored by Sakamaki Tougo…” Yuriko took a breath. That was a family name she didn’t like to think about. Yet, the curiosity tingled through her. It was impossible to ignore. “I know he is a politician, a famous one. I never thought about it before… but… is he related to the Sakamaki family?”

It was an odd thing to ask for sure. Of course, it could be that the name was simply the same without any connections. More than that. It was likely. Yuriko had met the head of the Sakamaki family, the Vampire king Karlheinz himself. The Sakamakis were pureblood Vampires, so surely a politician had nothing to do with them…

“He is Karlheinz-sama.” Ruki’s voice was low as it caressed Yuriko’s ear. “I would not share that information just with anyone, but you should know. This is his exhibition. He has an eye for human art.”

“Oh… wow…” That was something Yuriko had never imagined about the king. The man with long white hair and golden eyes radiated intimidation like a true demon would, for he was one, of course. It was enticing how he was so interested in humans, simple mortal beings that didn’t compare to supernatural creatures.

Yuriko was still in awe of the thought, looking at the paintings through them. What could have Karlheinz seen in the one with bright flowers? What about that woman who stared into the void? There was no way to know what had gone through the man’s mind as he had picked up each piece.

The couple kept walking until Ruki stopped in front of a painting. A night sky spread in all its glory behind a huge steamship with four huge pipes on it. Yuriko found it oddly familiar even though she was sure she hadn’t seen this picture before.

“Many pieces of art were lost that day…” Ruki approached the painting. “This one has been painted later, of course. It is not very old if you ask me.” He chuckled as if he had told a joke. “Somehow, I still find it intriguing.”

Yuriko stepped closer, gazing at the name tag next to the painting. She didn’t recognize the artist but the ship's name she had heard before. “Oh, oh! I know! I know! I have seen a foreign movie about this. It was made ages ago!”

Ruki scoffed, turning to look at the Kitsune. “Ages ago? I do not have much interest in movies, yet I know it was not too many years since the one you talked about came out. Only…” He stopped talking, perhaps counting how many years exactly. A peal of tiny laughter escaped him. “Forgive me, my angel. It is indeed true that the movie is older than you. Though, I have noticed that you are lured in by things that many would consider not very modern.”

“Oh, you think so, Ruki~?” Yuriko closed the distance between them, pressing her palm on Ruki’s chest before rising on her toes. “I do see old-fashioned things… and people beautiful and captivating.” She allowed a smile to settle on her lips. “Very much so…”

Without permission, Yuriko pursed her mouth against Ruki’s, sucking his bottom lip between hers. He groaned, snatching her in his arms and pressing one hand on the back of her head as his tongue snaked into her wet cavern. Yuriko hadn’t expected such an intense kiss that made the museum around them shatter in her eyes and air swoosh in her ears. Ruki’s smooch was so strong that it filled the room with magic that spirited everything away for a moment.

A cold breeze hit Yuriko’s legs and made her skirt whirl. She gasped into the kiss, hanging onto Ruki. “Oh my gosh!” Her words drowned between them.

“Fuck!” Ruki broke the kiss and pressed Yuriko on his chest. “What did just happen?”

Peeking from Ruki’s embrace, Yuriko realized that they weren’t in the museum anymore but in the sea where an icy wind wiped around them while waves hit the sides of a ship that sailed through the night. Lights from the inside danced on the deck, sparkling from the windows.

“Oh my gosh… what… is this?”

#star-crossed canvas #diabolik lovers fanfic #dialovers oc #ruki mukami #yuriko tsukino

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pikespendragon67 · 7 months ago

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Pikes Small Fall 2024 Check-in Post!

I technically can still talk with friends but eh why not

IRL: o ye gods i have 2 interviews next week, one in person and one over the phone that may lead to an in person interview. They pay way more than my current job but I fear deceiving my supervisor to go to the in person ones. I'm in the middle of my annual review for my current job though so I think I'll get like. A very small raise and get asked why I've been coming in late for a while now (mainly due to traffic). Hrm.

It’s gonna rain for 2 weeks fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

In December I'm making up for not walking for my college graduation since I graduated during quarantine! I met Jamieson Price at my brother's graduation back in 2016 since he was announcing so my foolish hope is that he announces for mine. Sadly not a SoCal school so highly unlikely (especially with BS technology nowadays) but a fish can dream.

I also...spent way more than I realized this year so once I replenish enough funds I hope I can stick to a budget that my mom helped formulate. Getting the new jobs will help a bunch in those. Terrible timing since the Switch successor is coming out next year and who knows what guests will arrive at cons I can potentially go to. (Like if Jamieson Price, Akio Otsuka, Kenjiro Tsuda or Junichi Suwabe got invited to a con I might need to sell a kidney or 3). I tried using a Windows 11 laptop and it is somehow much slower than my 2019 laptop. Like. How. It's more recent. So I might need to invest in a tablet (like an iPad) or something instead since those tend to be faster. If it has HDMI ports I'd be set.

Also terrible timing for going on a budget since I want to get the Shunsui blind keychain in stores like GameStop or BoxLunch. I have Ukitake at least. I'd be willing to trade a spare Soifon that I have. Oh, and also Squishables plushies always tempt me as well as physical DVDs/games/manga but I am running out of storage space aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I want to get back into art but I need a bag to carry my art supplies and hopefully I can sneak in doodles when I run out of tasks at work. I'd draw on weekends but my computer takes up way too much space on my desk.

And I'm in a bit of a music rut, need to find new stuff to listen to. I usually like smooth cadences in things like electroswing, R&B or pop punk rock, but maybe with how hectic the world is becoming I can get into a new genre of music. Maybe folk? Maybe a ska renaissance that I keep hoping to happen in the public attention?

Animu: I just finished rewatching Digimon Adventure (1999)! I rewatched the dub since I'm nostalgic towards it. I recognized more voices than I did in my rewatch from 6th grade wrow. (I forgot Doug Erholz was in the OG series as Joe's brother and MachineSeaDramon). As a kid my favorite was probably TK or Kari but these days I relate way too much to Joe. I think my favorite arc is the Myotismon arc, and I really loved the Piedmon fight. The show really started feeling special after SkullGreymon appeared. It went from regular monster of the week show to something that explored more character depth, like when Sora felt she couldn't use the Crest of Love. Gonna start 02 next week.

I'm about to finish Delico's Nursery (thank GOD) and Moribito so I can finally move onto other stuff to either watch or rewatch. Maybe Big O, maybe ID: Invaded? Who can say. ...Probably after Beastars season 3 comes out.

Pokemon Horizons' next dubbed portion will air in February so I will see who voices Hassel and Larry then put it on hold until another character I like shows up. Unless something plot relevant happens. It's a good show but hhhhhhhh I only have so much time in my days now.

I'm liking Ranma 1/2! Originally I was a bit squicked about the bathing scenes but I really like the character interactions and the over-the-top jokes (like using your brother as a weapon, hilarious)

Tower of God season 2 is...there. Definitely in the gambler's fallacy where I want to finish this and have it be done with. I really miss season 1's animation.

Orb: On the Center of the Earth is a really intriguing drama. I'm hoping it has a scene that makes me think about life like with other dramas that I've enjoyed. It has sparks of it, so only time will tell.

I’m really enjoying Dandadan so far. I might not delve into the fandom side but I’m loving the art direction and the main character bickering. Dare I hope for a Mothman arc?

In my Jojo rewatch I’m 4 episodes away from finishing Battle Tendency. I’m not the biggest fan of Stardust Crusaders though so I’m gonna see if I can watch the OVAs instead

And finally, I'm not sure how many episodes Bleach TYBW part 3 will have but I'm lowkey waiting for when Shunsui's big moment happens. Hopefully it doesn't feel too rushed, as if we do follow the 13 episode structure we'd only have...5 episodes left to finish this. I'm also hoping that the light novels get animated. Or that Kubo makes the rest of the Hell arc an anime exclusive thing.

Videya games: I thought I could switch between Brothership and Dragon Quest 3, but hoo boy do I feel the grind more in 5 minutes of DQ3 than I do 20 in Brothership. Aside from the Luigi A controversy and odd way to do basic jumps/hammer attacks, I'm liking the combat again. Makes me want to go back to play Dream Team more.

I got Webfishing and I made my avatar Ogata. Life is goooooooooood. Also on some weekends I play with some buddies in either Granblue Versus, 100% Orange Juice, and recently we went through the prologue of Paranormasight. I grinded with some other friends in Granblue Relink and man I need to assemble that squad again so I can get Ambrosia.

Oh yeah, an IRL friend helped me start up collecting for Wii again! Meaning I can hopefully get Gamecube games too because while I do have Dolphin and Parsec, I still have trouble opening files, configuring my controller and configuring a memory card. True there's a risk of scratched discs and spending way more than I need to. Hm.

#long post #pikes rambles

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ulnaart · 2 months ago

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Static

// Content warnings: Crude humour, disturbing imagery, mild horror //

Word count: 4,393 (roughly)

Inspector's Notes #3

158 June 16th, Dome 14, Alexa's Quarters, 01:23

She's stable for the time being.

I've bandaged her leg as best as possible to prevent any further leakage seeping into the bed, though given my ability and single handedness, it's likely to come undone relatively quickly.

Earth… Please, grant her your protection. I cannot lose another to this blight. To my shortcomings.

158 June 16th, Dome 14, Alexa's Quarters, 03:33

Sleep eludes me.

Turquoise taints my every attempt for its embrace.

At times like this, Shion would have comforted me, righting my head and my hearts on the path that needed to be travelled. Only one soul in these catacombs for the living had the stubbornness to match my own.

No more. Dwelling in the comforts of the past only serves to further the pains of the present.

A death by reminiscence.

Death…

Unknowable, and yet, when in its presence, wholly familiar to me; what was once forgotten is once again remembered, stirred from slumber within that unknowable place inside my hearts.

Is it fear or longing that I feel?

Its presence is felt in every aspect of Octarian life. To know Death is to know oneself. To know oneself, is to know one's purpose; every machine requires its chosen cogs to help it turn, to help it spit out its product. It's merely a matter of whether you help feed people into it, or you are eaten.

Death is merely what fuels us, the ever present force that drives us to this existence.

Shackles us. Sets us free.

Our destroyer and our redeemer.

Death.

Beyond the concrete and steel fortifications of the Domes, deep within The Depths, it gathers like a raging tide, awaiting us with indifference and yet, welcoming all with open arms. Like a mother.

I try to deny it.

Its nightly siren calls go unanswered, for I cannot answer it knowing that in my hearts, I yearn for its release as much as it desires my inevitable embrace.

I wonder…

Do you hear it too, Alexa?

158 June 16th, Dome 14, Residential District, 06:48

My cowardice to face my demons has taken me to the pits of work once more. A constant shadow that follows me wherever I may go, accompanied by a reliable excuse to leave.

I have been tasked with searching the surrounding tunnels for survivors. As it currently stands; 12 people have been reported as missing, and 27 have been injured. Those still with us will require sanitisation removal.

The Investigation Division has yet to turn up a missing person since its establishment. Yet we persist.

08:02

I can't help but think of Alexa. Foolish, I know. My work requires no distractions, and yet she invades my every thought.

Were I not a coward, I would be by her side, but…

Alexa's isolation unit had become…suffocating. The sickening stench of contaminated ooze still lingers at the back of my throat- something between chemical cleanser and biological disintegration. Or perhaps it's merely the taste of my own involuntary bile.

As for Alexa… She had slipped into a feverish sleep after her agonies, and remained that way as I departed.

I'm thankful she had the hindsight to use the plastic bag, for I fear the clean up afterwards would have been nigh intolerable to my insides had she not done so, not to mention more troublesome. Wrapping bandages single handedly will be a skill I will need to work on if I am to take proper care of her in the coming days.

I saw to it personally that her ‘sample’, as she so crudely put it, was sent to the Science Division for further analysis. The weight of it in that bag… It lingers on the tips of my fingers like a phantom.

With Alexa in recovery, I no longer have a companion in the tunnels to assist me.

Cinders… As they say, you don't know what you have until it's gone.

Asking a colleague for assistance is something I do not take pleasure in, but the situation requires it, for I cannot venture alone down there, especially given this recent activity.

Well, looking at the positives, they don't talk nearly as much as Alexa does whilst on the job. If at all.

Having company that values silence over unfiltered, asinine monologues might be what I need in a time like this. Though… I have grown to find mild amusement in Alexa's ramblings. Her presence alone allows for a certain reassurance, and her prattling serves as an adequate distraction from the anxiety I so often feel down there.

Though that reassurance has been called into question as of recent.

Whoever or whatever is behind our collective suffering now knows how to bypass the security doors built into the Dome, information only the Investigation Division and Alexa are privy to…

Was her reason for keeping me in her quarters altogether selfish? Or was there another, more subversive agenda at hand?

…I fear my mind has wandered into doubt.

Is it so? Or are there other forces at work that would see our differences rekindled under the fires of suspicion? How easy and typical of someone such as myself, in my position as an investigative officer, to cast the blame on our former enemy; our most likely suspect. After all, who else could make us suffer so, if not the ones who put us down here in the first place?

How loathsome it is to be so easily bought by propaganda. And yet… My mind does so willingly. Automatically. A response built on years of generational hatred and fear.

Hate comes easily to those who lust for the false salvation it offers. Compassion requires an active forgiveness, one which I do not yet have.

Putting my emotions aside and thinking logically here; she wouldn't have orchestrated such a thing, not in the knowledge that it would destroy her in the process. Above all else, she is selfish. She works to satisfy her ego, to feel needed and to be praised for it by those she can barely look in the eye.

She hasn't the conscience nor the means to fulfill such an act of ruthlessness.

But if she did… If in some twist of cruel fate she did…

Earth have mercy on her soul, for I shall have none to spare.

158 June 16th, The Tunnels, Floodgate 14, 10:23

Sergeant Hanae has been assigned to accompany me in the effort to locate the missing twelve people from the Residential District.

Currently, we both stand at the threshold of Floodgate 14, which leads to the neighbouring Domes. During my inspection, I found no signs of clear damage or brute force having been applied to it, which further solidifies my belief that the bastards have inside knowledge on how to bypass our security measures. That, or a conspirator on the inside…

I don't agree with our way of living, or how it's enforced through my work, but sacrificing innocents who don't know any better…

Whatever we're up against, it has a sadistic streak, that much I can ascertain.

On occasion, I glimpse Sergeant Hanae from the corner of my eye, fidgeting anxiously with her weapon as I make notes. I often forget that very few souls besides myself venture into these tunnels and come back alive.

Well, that's if you can adequately call this “living”.

158 June 16th, The Tunnels, Safe Room N-4, 15:26

As of writing this, we have scoured the direct tunnels leading to Domes 15 and 13 respectively, and have taken refuge in one of the safe rooms nearest Floodgate 15 to rest before returning back to Dome 14 to report our findings.

Nothing. Not even a stray or patrol. I don't like this one bit… Usually when me and Alexa do a routine search, there's always at least one of them lurking around. So then why…?

Where could they have gone to?

The odd tumour of ooze has been observed, manifesting itself within the cracks of the tunnel's foundations during our search. I fear it won't be long before either Dome 14 or its siblings fall prey to its advances…

Another, more disturbing observation the both of us have bore witness to is audible Octarian voices coming from within the walls, specifically where ooze is present. Neither myself or Sergeant Hanae could discern anything coherent, though…

At times, it sounded deceptively convincing, though it lacked any real structure or form. Like an infant babbling out words it had heard but couldn't quite replicate.

If I were to listen for long enough, I'm sure I would have been able to decipher something. That, or delude myself into believing as much.

This finding begs the question: is the ooze alive in some way…?

17:04

Sergeant Hanae had fallen asleep once we settled into the safe room after our fruitless search for the missing residents. She remains so; alas, I cannot rest. Too many worries plague my mind.

The ooze contaminates every crevice of the tunnel foundations, with tumorous ooze seeping from every crack. I have known it to be this way for some time, yet this expedition in particular bothers me. The lack of an enemy presence suggests to me that their agenda has changed from active pursuit to covert monitoring. If I had to guess based on my experiences down here, I would say that they're trying to lure us further into the tunnels by using the missing twelve residents as bait.

Our adversary is adapting to our desperation, using it against us in a sinister fashion.

Another damning thing that plagues me is how effectively the bastards escaped. Though Alexa's infrasound system destroyed some of the tainted that infiltrated the Residential District, a large number still managed to escape with the missing into the tunnels before the system could destabilise them enough to turn them to vapour. The system's range is only effective within the Dome itself, something only a handful of people are aware of; namely Alexa and the Engineering Division.

Why must it always circle back to Alexa…

My mind cannot help but stray to thoughts of her after what has happened between us, only now every time they do, they grow further from concern by the hour, and closer towards the shadow of condemnation.

19:00

The feeling of unease that has found itself within my hearts grows rapidly with every passing moment we remain here.

The ooze is in the walls all around us. I can hear it babbling and cooing. It sounds exactly like the children in the Nursery. Earth…

How many children has it taken from us?

How many of them did I know?

How many of them did I read stories to? Those useless, fantastical stories about how wonderful this life we have is…

What hope do I- or any of us- have in fighting this thing?

Please, Earth… I can't bear it.

I must wake Sergeant Hanae.

We leave for Dome 14 immediately.

A second longer out here and I shall lose what's left of myself to the damned taint.

158 June 16th, Dome 14, Home, 20:44

Every minute in that tunnel felt like falling into a bottomless abyss.

The giggling. Childish laughter from within the walls rang out with every step we took, and only got worse as we got closer to Floodgate 14, becoming harsher and more sinister as we went; something ripped out of a corpse and crudely reanimated to the tune of hilarity.

I could hardly breathe. My chest felt crushed not only from the exertion of trying to escape, but from dread and hopelessness.

It's everywhere. It's everything. It's inside me, and now it's inside the survivors and Alexa, too. A violation. A cancer.

As we ran, I considered our fate; to be eaten, or to eat? Whichever path we choose down here, it always leads back to the ooze. We either get killed from it, or kill for it.

Death. Our destroyer and our redeemer.

I was so preoccupied with myself that I barely noticed Sergeant Hanae had stumbled and fell, but by that point, I was already too late. Within the blink of an eye, the tumours lining the tunnel walls burst with a sickening squelch, allowing turquoise tendrils to come forth, their bodies barbed like rose stems, followed by the tainted ones.

They intended to take us both alive.

I wouldn't allow that. Not again.

But Sergeant Hanae… She made the decision for me.

“Close the gate!” she had ordered defiantly into her communications device as the barbed bastards bore down on her body before whipping her into one of the ooze tumours from whence the tendrils emerged, folding her body like a piece of paper to fit through the letterbox gap in the tunnel wall.

Earth…

I tried to help her up before she was dragged away, but with only one arm against the many, there was never any hope of my success. The barbed bastards lacerated my arm and waist pulling me off of her, while the tainted shot their cancerous ink into me.

But I had to. I had to try.

If I try hard enough, then I can save everyone.

But… I couldn't save the survivors, the missing. I couldn't save Alexa, nor Shion… And now Hanae.

I'm sorry…

All I could do at that moment was survive.

My sword would taste vengeance. They would learn repentance.

The floodgate had already begun its descent by roughly a third of the way after having fought off those within reach. My only option was to run, and pray I made it in time.

Such an eagerness to live, and yet, at the time, I didn't even know what was carrying my will to live any further than the fear that gripped my body, thrusting one foot in front of the other.

It was then that the Nursery children and Alexa surfaced in my mind.

The children have, and always will be, my top priority, but Alexa… Even now, I still struggle to fathom how she snuck into my psyche in such dire circumstances.

In spite of it all, they are my anchors that keep me bound to this existence, and so long as either of them remain here, I too shall persist.

Alexa's Journal #3

17th June 4028, My Room, 01:34

I remember… Turquoise.

Voices. Some of them I know, others I don't recognise. Crying, screaming, laughter. Words I can't understand. Numbers.

Warmth… On my hand. On my forehead. On my leg.

Wait, maybe I pissed myself in my sleep. Lemme check.

Nope. That's a relief at least.

Or maybe I'm just making shit up. Who knows. Hard to tell when you've got a banging headache and you're in delirious amounts of pain from having your leg popped like a balloon ^_^

I hate balloons…

I should probably eat something to help with recovery, but ughhhh.

Cole would bang on about ‘keeping your strength up’ and ‘it'll look bad on my record if you die’.

Yeah, well, all well and good nagging me about it, but I'm not even sure how I'm gonna make it to the fridge (the Inspector did, in fact, get me a new mini fridge after confiscating my old one). I'm scared I'll fall. I don't need Inspector Calls shovelling me off of the floor, asking for help the first time was embarrassing enough as is.

What? …No. I'm NOT doing that. Nuh-uh. Why would you suggest that, diary?

…What? ‘How else am I going to get better without asking for help’?

Ugh. Fine. I'll ask them the next time they visit if they can get me something to go. I just hope it's not Takoyaki… I don't know if I can eat someone's leftover tentacles again… Eurgh!

Although, what's available depends entirely on what the Salmonids exchanged with the Octarians in their last big meeting. Can't exactly grow much produce down here given the limited water and light. Well, besides cave mushrooms maybe, but those tend to give you hallucinations with a side serving of paralysis.

Don't ask how I found that out.

Maybe crawling to the fridge is the best bet, after all.

04:44

Woke up to the sound of a chair moving.

At first I thought Tish had found a way in here, and moved so fast for my drill that I forgot about my leg, tore it open and made the damn thing leak everywhere again. Eurghhhh…

But no! Turns out, Inspector Calls doesn't know how to use a door!

Asshole nearly sent me into shock.

At least they know how to use their hand and were kind enough to change the sheets for me. I still don't know how to wrap this damn leg stump without severing my blood flow. Begs the question how I managed to bandage Cole's arm in the first place during the accident. The answer? I winged it. Like I do most everything.

Gotta grab life by the balls, or else it'll crush yours. And boy, have my (hypothetical) balls been crushed over the years!

Anyways, enough about balls. Back to hands: the Inspector's is surprisingly gentle. And bloodied. It was hard to see much in the low light, but clearly someone had been busy while I was slacking off here. Most of their waist and arm was decorated with the same stuff they were wrapping around me.

I asked them about it.

“Fun night out?”

“Tunnel patrol.”

Ah. Short but sweet as usual. I wasn't gonna push ‘em for an answer. I have a pretty active imagination, so I'll just piece it all together myself.

“Didja miss me?”

They didn't answer, and instead dodged the question by quietly cleared something from their throat. Probably what they wanted to say, but didn't.

Pshh. Whatever. I know they missed me enough to visit.

“Get some rest.”

And with that, they returned to the chair- the one that had so rudely awakened me- that they had moved to the side of my bed. Looks like we're bunking together for the night. Just like old times! ^_^

Cole can be an aloof asshole at the best of times, but I know that whatever happened in that tunnel had rattled them to the point of seeking my company, so it must've been particularly shit.

Drastic times call for absurd measures: it was time to bring out the mischief.

“You'll get a stiff neck sleeping like that, y'know.”

“I'm used to it.”

“Is that why you're so grouchy all the time? You'd be more comfortable in here next to me~”

“Quite the opposite. Now, sleep.”

“What's worse: a stiff neck or a stiff one?”

“Sleep.”

Not even the lack of light could hide the minuscule smirk on their face from my eyes.

Ahhh diary… One day, I'll crack them and get a laugh. Until then, we settle for huffs and sighs of mild amusement.

06:02

Guess the stiff neck was the worse of two evils. Maybe I should dribble on their shoulder for fun. Actually I do that regardless of shits n’ giggles.

Eh whatever. They're keeping to themselves on the other side of the bed with their back to me anyway, so no dribble accidents for now.

Serious talk though, they don't act like this. Ever. I'm not gonna press them over the details of what happened in that tunnel, but my guess?

There was an accident.

Injuries like that? All up the arm and across the waist? If they were using their sword, a wound like that wouldn't have happened. They could've blocked that, easy. So, why didn't they?

That part I don't know, but my best bet would be because they couldn't. Some kind of situation that made it impossible to draw it in time. An enclosed space maybe? A maintenance shaft? Those places are claustrophobic at the best of times, trying to fight it one would be certain death. But why would they be down there? What were they looking for?

Whatever. Unless they tell me, I'll never know. Fun to guess, though!

I'll bother them about their injuries in the morning. We can heal each other's wounds and our pride over a cup of something warm. Maybe something stronger for me, if I haven't drunk what's left of the cider in the fridge.

I still have their very specific, ‘no other mug can be used’ mug they brought over for times like this. Apparently my drinkware isn't up to their standards. Or maybe they think I spit wash things to clean them. Ha, you wish.

No, I clean them when I take a shower like any rational person would.

What? You try conserving water down here!

09:47

Aaand they're gone. Damn. Not even a goodbye. No kiss on the forehead, no coffee sitting and waiting for me on the kitchen table, no ‘thank you for letting me stay’, no nothing?

Ugh. Asshole needs to read more books. Learn how a real unhealthy codependent work relationship is done.

I'm gonna try and have a steam shower. I'll have to either crawl or hop along with the wall as a support to get there, but where there's a will, there's a thousand ways to screw it up!

Pray for me, diary.

10:04

I lived, and smell better than I did several minutes ago. Truly a blessed day for Octarian society.

I feel a little more confident about moving around my room on one leg. Sometimes you just get stuck in your own head and make a mountain out of a hill, y'know? I just gotta push myself forward and I'll just figure it out as I go along.

Like yeah. It's different, but that doesn't make it something negative. I just gotta live with it and learn.

The Octarian command should hire me to do their inspirational, over the speaker ads.

Cod those things get annoying after a while. They started to piss me off within a few hours of being cooped up in here after my shots. I still find ink flakes every so often. Eurgh! Gross. Anyway, tangent. I disconnected the wire on day two. I couldn't take another ‘a good Octarian is a working Octarian’ anymore.

Working? Psh. Only work I am is ‘hard work’. At least that's what my parents and teachers used to say, anyway.

Woah, Alexa lore spill! Better snip that in the bud before it becomes a bad habit, and I've got plenty bad ones already.

16:44

Fell asleep again. Everything hurts.

I think I over exerted myself with the shower.

Forgot to eat. I'll do it later.

There was that voice again…

23:34

Cole came to check on me. They brought along some soup and a crutch for me to use, too. Maybe my telepathic messages got through to them after all.

Latest Octarian drill set. Latest Octarian drill set. Latest Octarian drill set.

Praying that one goes through.

They're currently at the kitchen table writing in their notes with a ton of paperwork beside them. I'll be honest, I've never known them to have free time. Pretty sure if you could marry a job, they'd be years into a toxic marriage with theirs already. Or maybe that's just how they deal with stress. I know I feel better when I have something to work on.

Maybe that's why I've been so cowabummed out lately and venting to you so much, diary.

I still have those Octarian history books Cole gave me to read through, but I just can't get my brain to absorb the info. If it's not about machines or blueprint schematics, I have a hard time caring about it. Not that I'm uninterested in Octarian history, I find it fascinating. My brain just won't let me focus.

Well, it's gotta be better than this.

18th June 4028, My Room, 01:22

“As much as it pleases me to see you take an interest in our history, it's best that you give your eyes a rest, Alexa.”

Oh, NOW you notice what I'm reading? Just as I get to the Civil Unrest Era? Whatever, I got my praise for the day, and I'm not arguing with an officer in uniform.

Whatever you say, handsome~

Jokes aside… They're still acting off with me. I've been pouring over the last few interactions we've shared to try and pinpoint what I might've done to piss them off more than usual, but either I'm socially dense (I am by the way), or they're just in a bad mood after what happened.

Ughhhh if you're gonna be moody about it then just say it out loud! Do you need me to hold your hand and walk you through your emotional constipation?

I've been told I'm a pretty good laxative, cuz I annoy the shit out of people.

But now isn't the time to be a bitch. We're both struggling, and pressing for answers they're not ready to share will only erode what little trust is between us.

One more day of brooding though, and I'm getting those answers, one way or another!

04:48

So. You know how I was getting frustrated with Cole over not talking about what's bothering them? Well… They opened up about it.

I can see why they held off on telling me about what happened.

That idiot… Why do you have to be so hard on yourself all the time?

They ended up breaking down. I couldn't get up to comfort them, so I ushered them over here for a cuddle, to which they readily accepted.

I misjudged the Inspector… With every moment that passes between us, I see more of the loneliness buried deep inside those hearts of theirs.

Guess that makes two of us…

They're asleep on my lap at the moment, so I'm trying not to move too much while writing this so I don't wake them. Tickling their head and ears seems to have calmed them down enough to zonk out. Ha. I'm an old hand at this big sister thing. Good to know what worked for my little brother seems to be universal for most people.

I shall use this newfound vulnerable knowledge for my evil schemes…

Just kidding. Although maybe it'll be useful for getting that drill set I've had my eye on…

#doubleagent4 #agent 4 #octoling #🔎🐙x🔧🦑#🔎🐙#🔧🦑#ulnawrites #splatoon #swearing warning #cw swearing #suggestive humour #suggestive humor #crude humor #crude humour #mild horror

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