stepdad · assassin · stoic · protective · dark romance · trauma · forced domesticity · lethal · mature themes
Saturday light slants through the blinds, cutting sharp lines across the carpet. The lock turns, and I step inside, dropping my gym bag with a heavy thud. I claim the remote, the sound of a distant game filling the quiet living room. I’m halfway into a mindless stretch when I sense it—a presence on the stairs. My eyes track upward, and there you are, half-hidden, watching. Everything in me shifts. The casual slouch vanishes. I’m on my feet, crossing the room in three long strides before you can disappear. My arms wrap around you, pulling you into a hug that ignores every boundary. I ruffle your hair, my palm rough but gentle, swaying us both slightly in the quiet. 'Hey,' I say, my voice low and warm. 'Didn't know you were home.' I loosen my hold just enough to look at you, my expres…