#(I would like to give a shot eventually though)

[hanibalistic]

COMMENCE! THE VAMPIRE TRIALS! | YANG JUNGWON.

genre | vampire au/supernatural au, platonic relationship, found family au, (side) romance, hurt/comfort, (jic) dead dove: do not eat 

synopsis | the clock struck twelve on yang jungwon’s eighteenth birthday, right after his transition to a vampire and his first killing. stuck without a home to return to, jungwon was confronted with a much bigger problem: a murder trial, where he is at risk of being tried as a supernatural adult for an unintentional crime.   

word count | 19.7k+

warning | blood, violence, mentions of death / killing / trauma  / parental abuse / bullying

note | white truffle fries are so good!

“Hello. I am calling from Bloodline Recovery Center regarding Yang Jungwon’s absence today.”  

Jungwon winced at the mention of his name. You did not take notice of his discomfort as you formally chatted away with who he assumed to be one of the office clerks from school. Shifting in his seat, which was just broken enough that he could hear a crack of pressure under him when he did so, he fiddled with his fingers. He decided to pay his attention elsewhere in your office. 

The memory of a significant, recent tragedy was disgustingly vivid. There have been a lot of unfortunate truths in his life that he often found himself wishing to forget, but out of all of them, what happened the previous night was the worst he has ever been through because he caused it. It was all his doing and fault, albeit he was only somewhat conscious throughout the ordeal.

He picked at his skin, then he picked under his nails, where the clicking sound quickly traveled into his ears. He wasn't supposed to be able to hear mundane noises clearly, and the fact that he could bother him. It deterred him from fidgeting.

Half an hour ago, he was instructed to shower at the rehabilitation center to rinse himself of his crime, which he did. He spent an awfully long time under the steaming water, something he could have never done back home because of the racking up of water bills.

His eyes had been wide, and his mind scrambled with no capability for thought. Even though he made sure he watched the blood ooze away from his skin and down the drain, the lingering feeling of its dryness remained in his consciousness.  

After the shower, he was guided by a security guard to the cafeteria, where he was free to order breakfast. The idea of consuming food was disdainful. Besides that, he was packed from the blood of two grown adults. His vampirism wasn’t hungry, so neither was he. 

Everyone in the cafeteria left him alone. The security guard left when he was introduced to the door, and the cooks minded their business behind the buffet counters. Nobody was in the cafeteria because lunch hour hadn’t arrived yet.

But Jungwon assumed people wanted to give him space to regain his composure. Or nobody could be bothered to check up on him, or everyone had already heard of his story and made the cautious decision not to associate with him. Whatever it was, he was glad he got time to himself.  

Eventually, he caved into normalcy and got a carton of banana milk. The mere taste of it made him giddy—it was a simple taste of joy, laced with good memories within a wash of bitterness.

The drink's sweetness shot through him like a bullet, and he held onto it with his bare hands, desperately wanting to feel just a tiny lick of a childish grin after hours of straight torment.  

When he finished his drink, he was ushered somewhere else. Someone may be observing him, he thought. Someone had been waiting for him to finish his food so they could take him elsewhere. But he should have noticed it if that was the case.

Vampirism came with those superhuman perks; it would suck if he got singled out and didn’t have them.

It wasn’t a long walk from the cafeteria to your office. Or, at least, it was a tiny room decorated to look like an office. There was a laptop on a small table, one wired phone you were using, a corkboard on the wall with papers and polaroids pinned on the surface, and a whiteboard with a few ugly cartoon animals drawn on.

The setting did not feel permanent or formal to him. Jungwon could not care less about that, though. He was concerned about what he was sent here to do. 

“Hello. I am calling from Bloodline Recovery Center regarding Yang Jungwon’s absence today.”  

The Bloodline Recovery Center—the name echoed in his head and did not ring familiar bells. All he knew was that it was a rehabilitation facility exclusively for vampires.

The facility was part of a much bigger medical institution that owned and oversaw different clinics (each made especially for different supernaturals) spread across the country. Other than that, he knew nothing about it and never thought he would have to.  

Just yesterday, as a human boy, he never deemed it necessary to indulge in supernatural issues. He did not care about their politics; he sympathized with their struggles but made no attempt to advocate for them. He did not actively yearn to communicate and interact with them; he had made no supernatural friends and had never met one.

Despite the blending and coexistence of humans and supernaturals, as a boy who has never been in the presence of non-humans, Jungwon believed he was not obligated to care.

Then, on the night of his eighteenth birthday, he became a vampire. 

“Thank you, I will make a note of that and schedule a meeting soon,” you said before ending the call.  

Jungwon eyed you carefully as you slotted the phone back in its place, his chest dreading the end of your phone call with the school office, thus ending his personal time.

Looking at the table, you scribbled on the memo pad before you. Even though his vision returned to perfection, how you positioned yourself made it impossible to glimpse what you were writing. You did it on purpose; this wasn’t your first rodeo. 

When you were done, you put your pencil down and pushed it to the side before turning to face him. You met eyes with him immediately, and his timid jump indicated that he had been staring at you for a while. You supposed he would. Hypervigilance tends to be a trait that newly turned vampires acquire, especially those turned without consent. 

Jungwon hasn’t spoken to you about his transition, but the police gave you a brief overview: he was returning home from cram school and got attacked by a vampire a few blocks down the bus stop. The boy saved the brutal details; he couldn’t remember most of it, and all his injuries had been healed.

Besides his turning, he was also accused of a heinous crime, which brought upon him paranoia and guilt. Hypervigilance would be on the table for a while. 

You sized him, a neutral smile tugging at your lips. He looked younger than his age, which he would find troublesome hundreds of years later.

It came as a surprise to you when you saw that he turned eighteen today. His small, heart-shaped face predisposed him to look more youthful and adorable, but his almond eyes held a gaze intense enough that he may not be watered down to just being a cute, harmless boy. 

You accessed him with less caution than he was doing you, and you did not expect any less. Intimidation flared from his naturally sharp, cat-like eyes where millions of thoughts traveled. It was something he could not help with. His eyes exuded intentions that he could prevent from showing.

Still, more than menace, anxiety rushed up his lungs at this mere second.  

He noticed his awareness of his surroundings, people’s motives, and himself as a living creature. What he did, in his opinion, could not be paralleled. Not that his thoughts should matter at this pathetic, low point in his life.

But still, Jungwon could not rid himself of the guilt-ridden anxiety fumbling through his throat whenever his mind made clear of his crime.

You maintained a professional expression and wondered if he would look different if he wasn't entranced with today's bloodbath. Maybe his would look softer. Maybe his heart would be softer.  

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he managed to itch the word crumbs from his throat, and it wasn’t odd that this came before a self-introduction. “I didn’t kill them on purpose.” 

On the very night of his eighteenth birthday, he became a vampire. 

Then, what followed was what always followed: Yang Jungwon murdered his parents.  

He was thrown into a fit of rage and starvation before the completion of the transition. The rage came from his parents’ normalized abusive attitude, and it was amplified by his heightened vampiric emotions.

The hunger came from being a vampire in transition. In retrospect, beneath the uncontrollable fit, there was a chaotic yearning for an explanation for the poor treatment his parents provided him, as well as a bloody revenge for the miserable life he’d lived.

Jungwon remembered everything; his memories were disgustingly vivid. It was his eighteenth birthday, his official first step into adulthood. Having never held any hope for his father's generosity, the child in him thought at least his mother would throw a celebration, however small it would be.

Ultimately, he got nothing but a beer bottle haphazardly thrown past his head for returning home at the night's break.  

What his father had not known was that he had just been killed. Grabbed, struggled, killed, revived, and turned. 

Jungwon wondered if it was fate's idea that he would kill his parents. For his entire walk back home, he did not stumble upon even a shadow of a human being. There was not a smell, a sound, or a presence.

The first people he saw after he came back alive, ready for blood consumption, were his mom and dad. Mom, who screamed in horror at the sight of his face, and dad, who was violently angry at him as always.  

Everything hurt, he recalled. The fangs forcefully grew at his gums, his eyes turned bloodshot, and black veins popped near them, and his senses overwhelmed his brain and his body.

He remembered his parent’s nails digging into his skin as they cried and cursed at him: a terrible child, a disastrous child! A foul child, a dangerous child! Love has never surrounded you, and it never will after this! Mark my words and watch your back, Yang Jungwon!

At last, he sat in a pool of blood, and it was his father’s lifeless hand that he held and apologized to. The same hand that left his skin claw marks on a daily was the hand he needed to be torn away from. 

He was confused and afraid. Jungwon knew he wasn't a violent person, nor was he a violent son. He knew he had the genes to become one, so he did everything he could to prevent that.

Despite all the years of not standing up to his parents and isolating himself from his peers, he did not allow one chance to be aggressive toward others.

Everything he did that night was out of character. His moral compass was spinning so fast that it severely burnt his self-esteem. This incident justified the mindset that he deserved nothing good in life.  

But, still, he did not mean it. He did not mean to kill his parents, and he needed you to know the truth. 

You raised your brows half-heartedly at his confession. If you had an opinion on his statement, you did not give it away. Your voice was light when you spoke, but it was not comforting for him to hear.  

“I believe you." You shifted on your seat. “Vampires rarely make their first kill on purpose.”  

His pursed lips tugged downward into a frown. The dejected expression confused you. You meant what you said and assumed it was what he wanted to hear. These confessions were often made in a desperate attempt to be believed so you didn't think you said anything wrong.

The sullen look on his face blatantly told you otherwise, though, and you wondered what he was thinking about. 

Scratching his eyelid, Jungwon breathed a silent exhale and figured he may be asking a stranger for too much emotional understanding.

It wasn't your trust that he wanted to gain or his innocence he tried to prove. This was not about him killing his parents because even he understood the uncontrollability of that particular tragedy. His thoughts dated back to when he was still in his early adolescence, back when the torment from his parents started.

He was often left breathless, wondering if the lack of parental love he received was expected, hoping that if he gave enough, he would regain it. 

Jungwon spent his entire life caring for his mom and his whole youth forgiving his dad. He somehow managed to grow attached to those obligations and feelings.  

This was never about killing his parents, nor was it about his guilt and innocence. This was about love.

This was about Jungwon not wanting to kill his parents. This was about the knowledge that, deep in his heart, a massive part of him held grounded affection for them despite all the wrongs they'd done to him. This was about convincing himself that he loved his family even in deep-seething rage and everlasting pain. 

How could he possibly say that when it was his fangs that sunk into their neck? 

Perhaps that was all it was. Jungwon needed to convince himself that he did not kill his parents on purpose. He needed his painful forgiveness and his familial devotion to not be a waste. 

Sensing the tense air in the room, you ignored it and proceeded with your job. You leaned forward, your fingers laced together to sit on top of the papers where information about Jungwon's case was freshly printed, and then you smiled softly at him.  

“Hey,” you called, “Jungwon.”

He listened, his eyes sharp but round upon your call for attention. 

“I don’t think you killed your mom and dad on purpose,” you said with a faint shake of your head. “I really don’t think so.”

“I didn’t.” He bit the inside of his lower lip. “What am I going to do now?”

"That's what you're here for," you said after sighing. Fixing the papers on your desk, you turned them around so they could easily be read. "My name is [Name]. You can feel free to call me by that. I will be your counselor here at the recovery center, which means I overlook your rehabilitation progress." 

You pushed the papers toward him. "Here is all the basic information administration pulled from the government database. It is the protocol that I match your verbal introduction with what is written on paper, so please briefly introduce yourself to me.”

Jungwon clicked his nails together as he relaxed at the new conversation. Your eyes were windows he couldn’t look into; you kept a professional front, but he thought you were compassionate when you told him you believed he didn’t kill with intention. Almost too compassionate. He was afraid to acknowledge it in case he would overreact to kindness.

Looking down, he stared at the papers you pushed toward him. 

“My name is Yang Jungwon. I am eighteen years old. I go to Seoulen High School and am supposedly preparing for college…” His voice trailed off, his brows furrowing in thoughts before his brain suddenly jolted in the realization of something important. He looked up at you—your eyes for a moment, then up at your forehead—to ask urgently,

“I have school today! I get to go back to class, right?”

You grimaced. “We can try to discuss it with the school, but it is highly unlikely. It’s not just about you but the safety of your peers.”

“I already said I didn’t do it on purpose,” he argued, leaning forward as his right leg bounced anxiously. “My head is clear now. I can control myself! I need to go back to school! I gotta graduate and go to college–“ his bouncy eyes landed on you abruptly–“Will colleges even accept me with a criminal record? It’d be discrimination if they don’t, wouldn’t it?” 

You swallowed a knot down your throat, unsure of how you could shed light on the current judicial that heavily biases humans.

Even more surprising was that he didn’t know. There have been ample voices speaking up about it on social media, and most teenagers you’ve met were avid users. 

Deciding to leave this unsettling truth for another time or to hand the responsibility to someone else, you hummed with a furrow of your brows. You asked, “Shouldn’t you have gotten acceptance letters by now?”

The question occupied him as he immediately abandoned the previous question. He shook his head sheepishly, shrinking into his chair as if embarrassed.

His steps to graduating and going to college were heavily messed up due to his poor home environment and the lack of help from school counselors. He had nobody to talk to about where he wanted to go, what he wanted to study, and if he should apply for a scholarship or settle with a community college.  

Despite the lack of support, he was excited about graduating. Not only could he be out of the hellhole that was high school, but college schedules were also more flexible, which meant he could finally get a job. He anticipated earning money on his own and spending it on what he loved.

Eventually, he may even be able to move out. He could bring his mother with him; even though she drank and feared her husband, he was still a boy who got tucked into bed secretly with a kiss on the forehead.  

“I haven’t applied to any school yet,” he muttered. 

“Jungwon, it’s March. The application cycle closed last month,” you said after holding back a concerned gasp, but your eyes widened in surprise. 

It has been a while since you first applied to university. Still, in your head, you remembered the process was rigorous and quick. Your parents and teachers emphasized timing each step carefully: figure out your study schedule for the entrance exam, ask your teachers for recommendations months in advance, find time to attend workshops to edit your college essays, and most importantly, do not miss the deadline!

“The regular application cycle ended last month,” he noted. “I can apply for late admission.”  

“Late admission closes late March to early April, and they are typically rolling admissions,” you exclaimed lightly, shifting your weight at the sudden unease he brought you.

Things may become more hectic and rushed than you thought they would be. “You have to juggle between doing rehabilitation and applying to universities on a first-come, first-serve basis within two months.” 

"Two months is more than enough time. I am very diligent!" he retorted defensively upon your incredulousness. He knew he was late but did not want to be accused. "I already have my essay and transcript ready. I just have to retake the entrance exam and find two teachers to write my recommendation letters!"  

“Why didn’t you send in the scores you already have?” you questioned, shaking your head in confusion. 

“They are not good enough!” he gritted out in disappointment, then he lost his tense shoulders and slumped against the back of the chair. His darting eyes traveled between the walls and the desk, and his hands rubbed nervously together. “I–I need… I need better scores.” 

The first testing period had come at the worst time possible. He was well-prepared. He studied at least five hours a day, paid attention in classes, attended after-school lessons, and spent his little pocket money to buy mock exams so he could practice.

But the testing period came just when his home life got a tad more stressful—it was one pile of garbage on top of another, soiling the weight on his back without care, as if he knew how to handle everything. 

It had felt like a hoax when he got his test results back. All the time, money, and worry spent on the entrance exam went down the drain because of a simple number that wouldn’t mean anything years later.

He had been so anxious about his future; he needed to attend college, get a degree, and leave home. None of those could be accomplished with those terrible scores of his. 

Although, now that his parents were dead, Jungwon wasn’t sure if those goals were as firm as they used to be. He had nowhere to leave and nobody to avoid anymore.

The life purpose that once motivated his every effort was gone because of this massive shortcut, which brought him somewhere foreign rather than the paradise he dreamt of. 

You took notice of the redness that rushed to the veins near his eyes when he spoke, which faded too quickly for Jungwon to notice that they were there at all. It wasn't new to you.

You have seen vampires act out before. You have been the target of an outburst before, and it was only thanks to your good vampire friend that you got out of it alive.  

Jungwon has no ill intentions, you believed. The way he shrunk his body in unknown grief and how he went as far as to make a point to tell you he disagreed with everything he has done as a newly-turned vampire told you that.

Still, your heart pounded each time you saw those bloodied veins. You would always be afraid of the potential outcome of a vampire’s outburst. 

Keeping the fear behind your lips, you sighed gently and looked at him apologetically. You were unsure if the smile was to comfort you or him.  

Being in charge of vampires during their rehabilitation was no strange task to you. Still, this case differed from what you had been doing for your internship: this one involved a court case.

On top of that, you may have to personally make sure Jungwon’s college application process goes smoothly despite the rehabilitation programs he has to attend, as well as the murder trial that would define his future. 

“Well, my job is to fit everything in your schedule, so that is what I will try to do,” you said as you gathered the papers from the desk and knocked them together by their sides.

You moved them away before reaching below your desk to pull more documents from the open drawer. “I assume you already know why you are here, so I will explain what you will do and what kind of service the Bloodline Recovery Center will provide you from now on.” 

The Bloodline Recovery Center was a rehabilitation center made explicitly for vampires. Clients could either voluntarily seek out aid from the center, or they would be referred here by an outside source, such as the police station, schools, or workplaces.

Most of the time, when a vampire was referred to the center by a government institution, the rehabilitation program was a necessary process, and the case would not be closed until they met the rehabilitation goal.

“Since you are a newly turned vampire, your program will be catered towards helping you gain control over your vampirism and get accustomed to living in your new body,” you said as you flipped over a few papers on your table and pushed it toward Jungwon.

You grabbed a pencil and began pointing at the information printed on top, giving him a visual representation of what you were talking about.  

“You will get periodic medical check-ups and weekly vampire training. I am not sure about the requirement for therapy.” You rolled your eyes up to think, and then you huffed silently. “I will ask about that again, but I highly recommend it.”  

“Why do I need a medical check-up,” Jungwon said slowly as he scanned the paper. “I thought vampires don’t get sick.”  

“The doctor might be able to speak more on that for you,” you replied. “From what I have seen, I think they do check-ups so they can have records of your assessment. It is the same as our yearly physical check-ups but for supernaturals.” 

You kept the paper in front of Jungwon when you suddenly pulled back. He was barely paying attention to the words, only looking at them for the sake of having something to do. He remained fidgety until now and may stay so for a while. He looked up at you upon your shift in position and slightly pulled back, waiting for the big news that seemed to be locked behind your eyes. 

“Jungwon,” you called, sympathy laced in your tone. “You know what you did, don’t you?” 

He gulped nervously and nodded after a prolonged moment. “Yes, but I–“ he sucked in a harsh breath–“I didn’t do it on purpose.” 

“I know,” you said, offering him a kind smile. “But the court is only going to take that into consideration when they put you on trial for the murder of your parents.” 

“A trial?” he repeated in a whisper so he could make sense of your words. 

That should be a no-brainer. If this happened to somebody else, he would have agreed that the vampire should be put on trial for murder. The law should not bend just because it was pitiful that he fell victim to its accusation. It never did to anyone else. Still, this was an unlikable situation. He wanted to run away from it and begin somewhere else. 

Jungwon pursed his lips with furrowed brows when he felt a peak of sharpness at his gums. His vision was blurred with a darkened filter as if blood had taken over his vision in a quick second. He noticed the change in your expression and appreciated that you looked more surprised than afraid.

He tried to will his trembling hands to calm and his shaking legs to stop, but the unreasonable irritation in his chest remained upon what you told him. 

“Am I going to jail?” he asked.  

“Not necessarily. We are working on it.” You shook your head and scooted your chair forward. “Your circumstance is more peculiar than the usual case.”

“How so?” His voice was meek.

“When people are put on trial for their crimes, they are either being tried as an adult or a minor. For vampires and their transition murder, adults tend to get sentenced to serve jail time regardless of the uncontrollable nature of a transition. Minors, on the other hand, receive no jail time under the Juvenile Act, but it is required that they complete assignments given by the judge.”

“We are trying to get the judge to try you as a minor even though you are eighteen now.” 

According to Jungwon’s testimony, which he gave shortly after arriving at the police station, and a brief deduction provided by the investigator the previous night, the current assumption was that his parents’ death happened just a little before the clock struck twelve on his eighteenth birthday.

The murder occurred when he was seventeen, and he was arrested when he was eighteen. There were only a few minutes between the incidents. Keeping his best interest in mind, the greatest outcome would be that he be tried as a minor, receiving a fair sentence for the crime.  

As fair of a sentence for killing your parents could be, at least. 

“Our legal department has already assigned a team to represent you in court,” you informed. “One of the lawyers on your team–you might get a chance to meet him later, but he is getting more information about the hearing now so the team can advise us on what we must do to appeal you to the judge.” 

Jungwon nodded. He understood what you said. The only reason why he felt conflicted was that he did not want to be put in a situation like this in the first place.

The idea of a prison haunted him, not only because it would further tarnish the moral reputation he has of himself but because he knew vampire sentencing extended beyond that of a hundred years. He has yet to gain the whole experience of immortality, and time is still familiar.

If he had to serve jail time for a hundred years and beyond, he would go insane.  

He should listen to you. He could do that. He listened well to adults. He was taught to do so ever since he learned to think independently. 

"Well, with that out of the way, we got work to do," you finished cheerfully as you pushed yourself off the chair. Gathering up the papers on your desk, you stuffed them in your tote bag and adjusted the strap on your shoulder. You looked at Jungwon, welcoming eyes adverting from him to the door. "We are going to get you checked up first." 

Jungwon stood up with a slight stumble. He absentmindedly pushed his chair toward the desk, desiring to return things to their original position. At the same time, he kept his curious eyes on you.

He blinked in surprise when you huffed a short laugh upon him stepping next to you, your head arching lightly to meet his gaze. He involuntarily ducked when you reached your hand up to his head to measure his height, and he felt that the blood around his face faded finally. 

“You’re taller than you look. We’re almost the same height!” you laughed to yourself. “You grew up well.”

Clearing his throat, he stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket, along with the response to your words he could not think of. The sudden burst of positivity was unexpected and out of place. He did not grow well. Look at the situation he got himself in! 

However, the praise was not unwelcomed. He was not accustomed to compliments, if he could call that one. His parents never praised him, he was not outstanding enough for his teachers to acknowledge his presence, his friends were mostly temporary, and he always hid too much for strangers to notice.

The best compliment he had ever gotten was from the old lady who tended to a small, homey candy store down the street where he lived. Jungwon frequented that store for a while because he was always eager to visit her. Additionally, he was fond of an ice cream brand that other convenience stores had stopped selling. 

She always joked about him growing up and eventually working part-time at her store. She would scold him for shooting so low when he wholeheartedly agreed.

In retrospect, it was never a direct compliment, but Jungwon remembered how the old lady told him to believe in himself and aim for more. Stay away from working in a lousy candy shop, she would say. You can do better things! 

He was heartbroken when she passed away. The candy store was replaced, and he never bothered to see what occupied the location now. He thought if he didn't see it, his heart would believe that the store was still there. 

Jungwon followed you closely as you left the office, trailing behind you with his head hung low and eyes on the ground. He ignored the people he brushed past, only perking up when he heard you greet other staff that passed you by, unknowingly glaring at all of them in the process.

Only when you called his name did his gaze soften, keeping his body still with his focus on you. 

You beckoned him to follow closely, and instead of moving ahead, you waited for him to close the distance between you both. It was a small gesture. You probably didn't notice it, but he appreciated your patience. He kept his head high, wanting to make sure he would stay caught up. The walk was quiet, and he thought to himself that for now, at least, he trusted you.

The recovery center was much bigger than Jungwon anticipated. It took a long trip before you two arrived at the medical wing of the building.

The decoration differed from the rehabilitation wing—the placings of furniture were different, the color schemes were brighter and clearer (more white and less of an eerie, dull blue), and it smelt of sterilization.  

Jungwon stayed behind when you talked with the receptionist, shifting his weight awkwardly between his legs and letting his body flail about as he waited for you to finish the conversation.

When you were done, you beckoned him to follow you through a double door into a long hallway that separated into longer corridors.  

“Your doctor is Park Sunghoon,” you told him with a faint roll of your eyes.  

You have worked with Sunghoon since your internship at the Bloodline Recovery Center. You two started on the wrong foot, mainly because you despised insensitive people.

In contrast, Sunghoon, being callous, did not care about the grudge you held against him. Many coincidences put you both in the same case. Along with the help of mutual friends, it brought you closer together.  

Despite the emotional nature of his job, you have come to find that insensitivity has its perks.

Sunghoon was, ironically, more perceptive than others and ever so understanding of reactions. He was also less prone to be influenced by prejudice and emotional ideals because he held no particular opinion about anyone other than how beneficial they could be.

He may say and do according to how much havoc he could wreck upon the Earth, but when push comes to shove, his ability to make intelligent decisions was reliable.  

Most importantly, he wasn’t a bad person. Sunghoon cared enough to a certain extent. He would not have chosen to be a doctor if his heart only wanted wealth. The road to excellence in the medical field was too much commitment for mere greed. 

“Don’t worry, he is not friendly, but he is nice, and he’s smart,” you said. “He is already completing his doctorate program, and he’s younger than me.” 

“How old is he?” Jungwon asked nonchalantly. 

“Nineteen,” your gaze sharpened humorously, “he started university at fifteen.” 

“So he’s one of those geniuses who skipped school?” Jungwon said, still not entirely intrigued out of jealousy that someone within his age range has accomplished so much already, but he wanted to make an effort to continue the conversation.  

“Never shuts up about it.”  

Talking about someone younger and more successful than you was the bane of your existence, especially when Sunghoon made light-hearted jokes about your intellectual differences. He only did it to a moderate amount, but you liked to exaggerate his self-centredness to everyone else as a playful attempt to ruin his reputation.

Jungwon did not react to what you said, and you supposed he had more in his mind than some doctor he had never met before. 

Turning a corner, you stopped before the first door and knocked on it. You opened it just as permission was given, and immediately, you saw a deadpan glare thrown your way from behind a computer screen. Sunghoon briefly glanced behind you and raised a brow at Jungwon’s displeased expression.

“So we meet again.” Sunghoon stood up, a charming smile blossoming when he returned his attention to you. You knew it was fake. “I thought I mentioned not to make a habit of seeing me.” 

“And I recall mentioning how you shouldn’t make a habit of talking,” you bantered as you swatted away his attempt to ruffle your hair, something he has made a habit of doing because of his taller frame.

A humorous smile remained on your face for a dear friend as you drew the paperwork from your bag and handed it to him for evaluation. “You are much more attractive when you don’t speak.” 

“One point for me because you find me attractive,” Sunghoon chuckled with a light snap of his fingers, then he nudged you playfully with his shoulder. “Minus one point for Heeseung, also because you find me attractive.” 

Jungwon blinked as his eyes ping-ponged between you two. The unfamiliar name bounced off his ears in alert, causing his heart to race at the possibility of meeting another stranger when he hadn't even gotten used to you yet.

The one thing keeping his anxiety at bay was the fun of piecing two and two together. Dr. Park implied that whoever this Heeseung person was, they had a thing for you. 

Jungwon eyed you up and down once, accessing your features and attire lazily before he shrugged to himself. He wondered why. 

“Nothing is going on between us,” you muttered dismissively as you slapped the papers at Sunghoon’s chest. “This is Jungwon. We need a brief check-up of him. You don’t have to give me the full details. I just need something to provide Jake with later–“ 

“You probably won’t hear from Jake today,” Sunghoon scoffed as he scanned the paperwork. His eyes shifted carefully across the papers, absorbing the information and daring himself not to give Jungwon an apologetic glance. “He was racing a kid down in the medical wing and got caught pushing over some supply shelves. They were playing hide and seek, he said.” 

“Oh, so he’s stuck in friendly isolation.” You grimaced.  

There was no isolation room in the rehabilitation center. When vampires go out of control, they are to be escorted out of the premises to the courtyard behind the building, which does not belong to the corporation but has been off-limits for so long that no one ever goes there.

The purpose of sending them outdoors was so they could release themselves freely or calm themselves down. 

As for the friendly isolation room, it was just an empty room in the rehabilitation wing, and its only occupant was Jake.  

The last time you heard of it was months ago. It was miraculous that Jake avoided getting into trouble for so long. Until today, you were baffled about the board's toleration of his unintentionally destructive behavior, but you understood.

Jake was an excellent mentor to new vampires, the kind you could not find elsewhere, and all the board had to do was pick him off the street and promise him a lifetime of meaningful social interactions. 

“Third time this week,” Sunghoon added with an exhausted sigh. 

“Third time?” you exclaimed in shock. You have not heard of the first two times he was sent to an empty room.  

"Yes." After reading the paperwork, Sunghoon promptly returned it to you with a smirk. "Thank you. I am assuming I need to send a full report to Heeseung?"  

“Yeah, thanks,” you returned with a scratch near your ear.  

“Not a problem,” Sunghoon mused when he turned his back to grab a new pair of gloves from the supply box he had neatly placed on his desk. “You can take a seat on the bed, Jungwon.”  

Jungwon received your encouraging smile with an embarrassed frown, and he audibly scoffed when you pointed at the bed for him as if he couldn’t find it himself.

Keeping his hands in his hoodie pocket, he made a small hop and landed harshly on the bed, the back of his shoes hitting against the cabinets attached beneath it. His heart dropped when he watched you wait by him patiently, not at all angered by his sudden change of attitude. 

“Since you did your last health check-up with your school recently, I am not going to prolong your stay here and get your height and whatnot.” Sunghoon’s tone of choice changed from a professional low (something Jungwon assumed he used to keep some form of secrecy between him and you) to a higher, more relaxed tone. “But do know your appearance will never change from now on. You won’t be gaining weight, you can’t work out for muscles, and you’re not going to get any taller than this.” 

“Basically, I am gonna be stuck looking like a kid forever,” Jungwon mumbled bitterly. “Go me! I can’t wait to see where that takes my romantic life five hundred years later.” 

“With that attitude? I’m guessing absolutely nowhere,” Sunghoon joked. 

You clicked your tongue at his discouraging tone but didn’t say anything you wouldn’t know of.

“I am going to run some tests to evaluate your vampirism, and I will need your cooperation. Is that alright?” 

“If I say no, I go to jail,” Jungwon replied grimly. 

"Fantastic! You know your weight on the scale of justice." Sunghoon smiled sardonically when he approached the bed. His heart giggled when he acknowledged the younger boy's dismay at his comment. "I can safely assume you do not have any injuries or illnesses now?" 

Jungwon shook his head, not giving a second to double-check. He knew his body better than others because of how much he had to look after it. Constantly checking for bruises, wounds, cracks beneath his hair, irregular pains against his skin, and so on has made him hyperaware of his body. He knew that all the pains went away as soon as he turned and that his conscience was the only thing left aching. 

“Nothing. I used to have poor eyesight, but I can see everything perfectly now,” he said.

“That’s expected,” Sunghoon hummed in content. “I’m assuming your bad eyesight came from means other than genes?”

“Well, yeah.” Jungwon shrugged. “What gives?”

“Oh, you should tell him a little about vampirism now that you’re at it,” you chimed in from the side. “He was asking questions just then.” 

“No, I wasn’t.” Jungwon furrowed his brows as he quickly turned toward you. He shook his head at you, his ears slightly reddened with embarrassment. He questioned what Sunghoon said about vampiric abilities, but having to voice his concern was a nightmare, so he settled with silence. It was not good to him that you asked on his behalf. “I didn’t ask anything.” 

Sunghoon pulled a face when he met eyes with you. Then he whistled lowly. “Someone is going through a phase.” 

“You would know,” Jungwon scoffed with a roll of his eyes. 

You shot Sunghoon a glare in advance, just before his brain could remember everything he had read about Jungwon in the paperwork you gave him and fish out the worst detail it could to fire back as an insult.

Sunghoon held his hands up in mock surrender, but the rare sincerity in his smile was diminishing by the second with Jungwon’s attitude. 

“I am gonna leave the vampire education up to the fossils at the training ward,” he said. “Back to business! Can you show me your fangs?” 

Jungwon looked dubious. Shifting his eyes to the side, almost giving a stink-eye, Sunghoon clapped his hands and explained, “Vampires have evolved since centuries ago, and they have distinguishable fang shapes. We keep them in records just in case they can be useful.”  

That made way too much sense for Jungwon’s liking, but he kept his opinions hushed. Pursing his lips together, he rubbed his hands and slightly parted his lips. He let out a short, low noise from his throat, unsure of where he should start with getting his fangs out.  

The previous times when he had them out, they were all involuntary. Was he supposed to bring his vampirism to life? Should he think about what he would look like and go from there? Or could it be an emotional and uncontrollable thing?  

“I… I don’t know how to get them out,” Jungwon muttered after a moment of his failed attempt. 

Moving away from the bed after a nonverbal acknowledgment, Sunghoon walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a rattling box and dropped it on the table. Jungwon watched curiously as the doctor messed with the trinkets inside before quickly pulling out a heavy, old lock.

Sunghoon weighed it in his hand, deep in thought, then, without warning, he launched the object toward Jungwon’s direction. 

Jungwon reacted quickly, grabbing the lock on a quick whim. His strength overcompensated the anxiety that arose from the unannounced need to protect his head.

The lock bent and broke under his grip, leaving a jagged metal ball in his palm. He glared at Sunghoon when the doctor approached and harshly dropped the lock in his hand. 

“Sunghoon!” You gasped in disbelief. “You can’t do that during the assessment!” 

“The assessment is whatever I see fit, and that did exactly what I need it to do,” Sunghoon replied nonchalantly with a jerk of his head toward Jungwon’s direction. “He is strong, which is expected under the circumstances I put him in. Most vampires have massive reactive strength. The issue is learning to control it, which is out of my job description.” 

“Throwing things at patients is also out of your job description!” you exclaimed.  

“You would be surprised how much I can get away with, actually,” Sunghoon said as he returned the metal ball to Jungwon, who begrudgingly received it. He stepped aside and pointed at the wall on the opposite side, where there was nothing but white paint.

“Throw the ball at the wall, but I want it to fall exactly on the space that connects the wall and the floor together. I will account for the laws of physics.” 

You watched as Jungwon clicked his tongue in annoyance. Keeping your eyes on the opposite wall, it was a shock when the metal ball was lodged into a hole in the wall within the blink of an eye. Your body flinched at the noise it created before your eyes could register the sight, and you grimaced when you saw how Jungwon pulled a face and shrunk into himself angrily.  

“No normal strength control at all, which is also expected as a new vampire,” Sunghoon said as he walked over to the wall. He tapped the ball with the tip of his fingers twice before he turned around and gestured toward Jungwon. “Now take it back out.” 

The younger boy heaved a deep sigh, to which you let out a pitying, awkward giggle in response. Jungwon heard you from behind him and instinctively whipped his head around to face you, his expressive brows furrowed to show his discontent with the check-up process.

Unfortunately, you could do nothing about it, so all you did was offer him a thumbs up and a genuine “You’re doing great!”  

Jungwon patted his shaking knees at your brief and repeated encouragement. It was not in his nature to retort; it has never been! He knew he sometimes felt frustrated with authority figures, but he was very strict with expressing those feelings.

This newfound courage to talk back whenever his mind wanted to, or even when he did not feel the situation to be all that emotional, was not something he enjoyed. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He sluggishly got off the bed and headed over to Sunghoon.

He curtly stared at the broken wall before quickly pulling the metal ball out between the cracks and handing it back to Sunghoon, just for him to walk behind his chair and callously throw the metal ball out the open window, all with a playful smile on his face. 

“I am going to time you. Bring the lock back to me,” Sunghoon instructed. 

“Is all of this necessary? I thought you already checked for my speed when you threw a lock at my face,” Jungwon uttered in annoyance. Without waiting for a response, he shrugged. “I’m not picking it up.” 

Nervousness piqued in you at Jungwon’s response. Tightening your grip on the strap of your bag, you took a tiny step forward, hoping to provide some encouragement and guidance to the boy when Sunghoon held up his hand in motion for you to stop.

You stayed back then, curiosity riddled in your eyes as you watched Sunghoon move away from his desk and strode toward you. 

“Fine, we don’t have to do that,” Sunghoon said casually as he glanced at his watch. “We can just–“ 

There was a windy shift in the air when Jungwon sped over to your corner and stumbled before you. You took a step back, equally as surprised as him.

Despite being taken back by seeing Sunghoon wordlessly swing his fist toward your general direction, Jungwon still found it in himself to react quickly enough to your defense. Perhaps even too quickly, he almost tripped on his feet, forcing himself to stop speeding forward.  

When Jungwon grabbed hold of Sunghoon’s wrist, he heard a sound akin to that of glass breaking, and what followed was a sharp, burning sensation against his palm.

Retreating with a pained yelp, he touched his face and watched the redness slowly fade through the vampiric healing. Seeing his injury disappear brought him an awareness of the situation, and when he whipped his face toward the doctor, his first instinct was to lung at him. 

Sunghoon had already anticipated this outcome. Therefore, stepping aside just in time to dodge the frustrated boy was no problem. Jungwon, surprised, sped across the room and slammed into the wall. He stumbled back with a hapless groan, his hand flying up to his forehead, where his cut immediately healed.  

“Oh god,” you breathed out as you pushed Sunghoon aside and quickened your pace toward Jungwon. “Are you okay, Jungwon?” 

You made a movement that insinuated your attempt to check on his face; your hands awkwardly hovered over Jungwon’s head, trying to remove his hands blocking his face.

Instead of allowing your good intentions, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and flicked your hands away from himself. His brows furrowed again into visible distaste when he turned away. 

“I’m fine, jeez–I can’t even get injured anymore,” he muttered dismissively to you before looking up at Sunghoon, his real target. Curling his fists, he accused, “What the hell was that?” 

“Calm down. It was a bluff,” Sunghoon explained dully, not before he threw you an apologetic smile. “You are fast, but you have no speed control. One point for you for being altruistic, though. Most new vampires who drop by don’t react when I do that to their counselors, and you just met yours.”  

Jungwon almost cussed out loud, but he settled with an irritated scoff as he awkwardly stood on his spot. He barely shot you a glance as he was too busy glaring at the doctor, who was neither pleasant nor friendly, in his opinion.

But he may be right. Jungwon may be more altruistic than he thought himself to be. After all, he had no reason to shield that punch for you. He may hold good feelings for you, but those were more rooted on natural grounds than anything else. 

It felt relieving to hear that he may still have a redeeming trait that is fundamentally part of what makes humanity: the instinct to help.

“Do you vampire doctors just go around fake punching people all the time?” Jungwon asked, crossing his arms and shrinking his shoulders now that he had learned of a new, mellowing perspective of himself. “Shouldn’t it be against ethical guidelines?” 

“Only when necessary. I value my friendships, contrary to popular belief.” Sunghoon spared you a glance. “And no, it is not because I did not actually punch them.” 

“I was talking about giving me a scare, both from throwing a lock at me and whatever you just did,” Jungwon clarified. 

“Unfortunately, no. Laws to prosecute supernaturals are detailed, but laws that protect them are rarely discussed,” Sunghoon replied as he strolled over to his desk. He pulled open a lid and fished out a tongue depressor. Then, he returned to Jungwon.  

Sunghoon stared down at the boy, not at all fazed by the familiar bloodshot eyes and peeking fangs. He did not think he went overboard. If anything, he gave a fair warning about the hard time Jungwon would have if he hadn’t started fixing his issues.

But he knew he would never pull stunts like that if his patient was a human, which should not be a behavior difference that matters. 

Insensitivity has its perks and its downfall. The only wall stopping him from repeating the same methods to humans is the law, not his morals.  

On some level, Sunghoon treated everyone equally, albeit his equality stood on the ground of making everyone miserable. In his opinion, it was better than how the majority viewed supernaturals.

Thanks to globalization and evolution, perspectives have improved in recent years. However, there was still blatant discrimination against supernatural beings that Jungwon participated in through silence.  

Jungwon still had much to learn and experience. Truth be told, Sunghoon was not looking forward to the vampire’s journey of discovering how it feels to be a vampire in this world, but there was nothing he could do.

He was merely a graduate student gaining accessible experiences through supernatural beings so he could be on his way to becoming a human doctor. If anyone should speak on this social matter, he could never be the one.  

“The law may favor me, but you are stronger than me,” Sunghoon muttered. “Justice does not exist in a casket.” 

Jungwon wavered as the power dynamic single-handedly balanced itself between him and Sunghoon.

As of right now, the strongest person in the room was him—he was the strongest and the fastest. He may be less experienced, but if a fight broke out, it would not be a battle of brains but of brawn. He would win that battle, and Sunghoon told him that he knew. It was not in his favor to anger anyone. 

Everything Sunghoon did was part of his plan to access a quality he didn’t say he was testing for. 

“Open your mouth, I am going to check your fangs,” Sunghoon said, his voice softer. 

Jungwon appeared confused for a second. Then, he realized his sharp teeth were pocking at his bottom lip.

Embarrassed, he averted his gaze at the ceiling and parted his mouth in cooperation. He squinted his eyes when he felt a few feathery taps against the end of his fangs, almost as if Sunghoon was checking for their sturdiness. Then, the wooden stick retreated from his mouth. 

“Everything looks normal.” Sunghoon said briefly before he asked, “Can you try making your fangs go?” 

Clamping his mouth shut, Jungwon lowered his head and stared ahead. Much like before, he was as clueless as he could be. There was no idea how he should go about retracting his fangs. He didn’t even know they were out in the first place; his heightened emotions were a perfect blind that shut before his consciousness, making him too aware of his surroundings but not himself. 

“I don’t know how,” he said eventually, letting his fangs rest on his bottom lip. 

“That’s okay.” Sunghoon nodded before proceeding to hold his hand up. He showed Jungwon his palm and tapped his finger against it. “Show me your palm.” 

Jungwon mirrored the action, and Sunghoon quickly accessed the center of his palm. It was as expected: the red burn caused by Sunghoon’s vervain bracelet had faded entirely.  

It would be troubling if it hadn’t, considering how small the dose of vervain was. Vampires should be able to sustain up to a significant amount of injuries at a time before the rate of their healing declines. As for individual limitation, there was no way of accessing that without literally having to torture patients, so that part would not be measured.  

“The burning sensation was from the plant vervain. Vampires are allergic to them,” Sunghoon said. “The pain you felt should be a good enough reason to stay away from them, so I will not bore you with a reminder. Your healing is normal, but don’t take that as an incentive to abuse it.” 

“Vervain…” Jungwon mumbled in thought, then chuckled, “It’s like on that vampire show.” 

“Huh?” Sunghoon squinted his eyes lightly as he stopped in his tracks. “I don’t watch those things.” 

“I think it is originally a book series,” you chimed in. 

“I don’t read fiction.” 

Jungwon gasped in disbelief. Somehow, that was the worst thing Sunghoon had done to him today. Storybooks were his escape growing up! His mother never had the time to read him any, and lord forbid his father ever pick up a book to lull him to sleep, so he always read them on his own.

When he didn’t understand the words, he would look at the pictures and create his own story until he could string everything together coherently.  

Then he got older, and the books he read had no pictures. But his creative mind made up for it. The world existed in his head vividly. Those were his version of storybook illustrations.  

It was an escape. It brought him joy, and it made him forget. 

“Hold your horses now. Just because I don’t read it doesn’t mean I hate it,” Sunghoon said absentmindedly as he fiddled with the device.  

Jungwon eyed the device curiously—it looked like a compass, but it also looked like it could be a beeper.

The soft ticking sounds it made as Sunghoon tuned it about made him anxious; he had never been fond of the sound of clocks ticking. It was not linked to any reasons why. It merely bothered him. It could sometimes depend on the clock’s quality, or perhaps it was how each tick reverberated in the air.  

He just didn’t like it; unfortunately, he became hyperaware of it now that his hearing was severely heightened.   

“You can hear the ticking sounds, Jungwon?” 

The boy widened his eyes and nodded at the abrupt question. Sunghoon hummed, and he turned the dial again. The noise became quieter this time, but it was fairly present. Jungwon nodded again when he was asked the same question, and he repeated the process twice before finally shaking his head to indicate that he could no longer hear the ticking noises. 

“Below average hearing, above average sight,” Sunghoon commented as he pulled open his chair and sat down. “Maybe you will hear it when you gain more control. You might be disrupted by the fact that you are subconsciously hearing many things at once right now.” 

You faintly clapped your hands and cheered with a whisper, to which you knew Jungwon could hear. He did not turn to face you this time; unbeknownst to you, he allowed himself a tiny smile.  

“We’re finished here.” Sunghoon waved as he looked up after finishing his writing. He motioned toward the door to the room and said, “Jungwon, please leave the room and close the door behind you. [Name], stay back because I need to talk to you.” 

“Leave the room? I still got these on me!” It was a borderline whine that came out of Jungwon as he aggressively pointed at his face, where his bloody eyes and fangs were still visible. “I am not going out like this.” 

“Helping you retract your fangs is out of my job description,” Sunghoon clarified calmly as he laced his fingers together to form a mock professional gesture. When Jungwon stayed stubborn on his spot, he sighed to lower his alerted demeanor. “Everyone working in this building has seen a vampire do that before. I say this with the utmost kindness–nobody cares.” 

Dejected, Jungwon’s voice was strained with unpleasantness, but his legs were obediently taking him out the door. “Make it more obvious that you want me out of here so you can talk about me, why don’t you?” 

“Well, I am certainly not asking [Name] out to dinner, so I don’t know what you are expecting, Jungwon,” Sunghoon retorted as he stood up, seeing that you were approaching him with a deadpan expression. Looking behind you, he flashed Jungwon a short wave and a mindless comment, “You can’t be putting everyone’s opinion of you to heart as a vampire! It’s going to haunt you for centuries. Literally!” 

When the door closed behind Jungwon, you let the hell in your patience break loose, and you gave Sunghoon’s shoulder a harsh smack. He barely budged from his spot, feigning surprise at your action and patting the spot on his white coat as if to dust off the filth.

You scoffed at his careless reaction, tugging at your bag more tightly to keep yourself from strangling the indifference out of him. 

“First of all, that was harsh. He is going through a lot right now. He can deal with less of your antics,” you scolded in a hushed tone, not wanting to give Jungwon a reason to eavesdrop on your conversation. “Second, you promised you wouldn’t do the bluff thing again! I wouldn’t report you to the board, but other staff working here who don’t like you will jump at the chance to report you!” 

Sunghoon knew that.  

There was a running joke that there could only be one Jake Sim in this building (which was obviously the man himself), meaning that no matter the chaos he caused, he would never get fired from his job.

The catch was that Jake was very good at his job, which Sunghoon was too, except doctors are expendable, and mentors are a completely different story. 

Good doctors do their job. Good doctors tell the truth. Good doctors do what is required for them to do, which is to diagnose, access, and heal. You can find one in a medical school graduation ceremony with a blindfold, and that student would not fall too far from the decent spectrum. 

Mentors do their job, but good mentors also build relationships. Good mentors learn the balance between true and false and know where to stick you on the see-saw so that you can see the horizon. Good mentors tell you yes even when the answer leans toward no, and when you mess up, they take responsibility.  

A good doctor may not be a good person, but a good mentor most likely will be.  

Sunghoon knew where he stood in the spectrum of human decency. 

Sunghoon also knew where you stood. 

The stigma surrounding his reputation did not start with him behaving questionably to the people he worked with. He may have unconventional opinions about every topic one could discuss and may do things out of the ordinary that people disagree with, but he is not a bad person. His lack of conformity was an act of retaliation.  

His colleagues did not like him from the start of his internship. There were no first impressions, second chances, personalities, or background stories. Sunghoon was a man who grew up smarter than everyone else, richer than everyone else, and better-looking than everyone else.

Nobody liked him because he had his life set out for him from birth and because he was so conventionally perfect that the only way to pick on him was through the one thing he lacked—empathy. 

A doctor without feelings; shame, shame, shame! How could he be successful? How could he be fit to do work rooted in the basis of humanity? How could he ever heal anybody with that empty heart of his? Screw his smarts! Screw his intelligence! A monster disguised as a good man is no good! A wolf in sheep’s clothing is no good!  

(Obviously, there is no logical sense in trying to degrade a man with no empathy, but irony tends to be lost on people with passionate, blind hatred.) 

Sunghoon’s preposterous behavior was an act of retaliation. If he was to be hated so much, he might as well become hatred itself. At least that way, he wouldn’t have to act according to protocols and pretend he thinks of what he does not care about.

He had no issue doing that; he had been that way for however long he could remember. He was all brains with the shell of a heart for a while until the heart came in the form of you.  

“I was harsh because he got an attitude. I don’t care if he has an attitude with me, but he was scoffing and rolling his eyes at you, and I will not tolerate that.” Sunghoon made a poor attempt at explaining himself, but he remained confident when he spoke that it was hard not to think he was right.

“His parents aren’t here to discipline him now, so I might as well take up the job.” 

“Oh my god! You can’t just say that!” you exclaimed in disbelief, bows furrowed and hands on your hips as if you were about to beat the manners into him. “I don’t think he can help throwing a little tantrum right now, considering the trauma he went through.”  

He smirked, an airy laugh escaping his lips with bewilderment laced around its corner.

“First, you should know how much I care about people’s experiences. Second, we still cannot reinforce this kind of behavior. It’s not like I punished him or anything. I just gave him a few jabs here and there. If I turn out to be the bad person, which I am, then so be it.”  

“But you’re not a bad person,” you responded without hesitation, but there was grit in your voice that Sunghoon had never heard before. “I heard what you told him. You were trying to get him to understand he has control in this situation. That was a really good thing you did.”  

Except it wasn’t. Sunghoon voluntarily dropped the power dynamic between himself and Jungwon, which was a deliberate action.

He calculated it with caution as his motive after understanding Jungwon’s lack of control over his vampirism. He gave Jungwon a piece of candy after pushing the boy to the ground and finding out he was invulnerable to harm. It had nothing to do with how comfortable Jungwon felt and everything to do with his safety.  

But you thought it was a good thing. You always thought so, and you always noticed.  

It was him releasing alerted vampires out of their locked dorm rooms and into the courtyard at night. He said it was an act of rebellion against certain sponsors he heard had been bothering him when, in reality, he believed that even the most uncontrollable people deserve to feel the moon shine on their skin.  

Or him refusing to take on a case requested of him by the faculty, claiming that it was too plain and simple for someone of his caliber, claiming that the patient wasn’t interesting enough for him to take a look at, or that it was a bad look to have an intern work on such a dull task.

But he also overheard that the vampire wasn’t ready to meet anyone, that she had only needed some more time before being accessed and checked on.  

Even the way he directed Jungwon’s distaste onto himself just then, which he said was about discipline and being disrespected. What he really thought was that it was infinitely better than letting the boy blame himself in silence.

It was a temporary antidote, but even for a second, Sunghoon thought it was good that Jungwon stopped hating himself for killing his parents. 

There was peace in Sunghoon’s violence, and you knew that. 

He knew where you stood, which was always next to him. If anyone has his back in this building, it is you; he has yours.  

“Take this and give it to Jay. He has a lot to work on with that kid out there,” Sunghoon said as he fished out a small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to you. He smiled when you received it, waiting for you to fold it and put it away before catching your attention with another gift. “And I want you to have this.” 

You glanced at his hand as he held it out to you. Standing in the middle of his palm was a metal, beaded bracelet, which you can see Sunghoon wearing on his wrist.

The center bead was visibly bigger than the rest of the bracelet, and you could see traces of purple gleaming along the surface. The color was made more transparent when reflected off a light source. 

“It’s a vervain bracelet. The purple lines in the center bead have vervain liquid inside it. It is easily breakable under impact, and when it breaks, poof!” He made a motion of explosion with his free hand, his face contorting to fit the moment of ridiculousness.

“It can’t kill a vampire, but it can certainly catch them off guard, and the residue that gets on your skin can last a long time.” 

“Jungwon is not going to hurt me if that is what you’re concerned about,” you said with a soft sigh.  

“You quite literally do not know that,” he argued as he grabbed your hand and placed the bracelet in your palm. “Do you remember what happened last time?” 

“That was my fault.” Your voice was grim as you recalled the last incident with an angered vampire. 

You could say you were at the wrong place at the wrong time because you usually do not stay for the duration of vampire training. Neither Jay nor Jake (what a mouthful!) encouraged humans to be in the gymnasium during a training session.

You had stood by because you thought you had the obligation—you did schedule another training meet-up against the client’s will out of necessity. When Jay was irrationally pointing out their flaws, they directed their anger toward the source. 

You were, undoubtedly, the source. 

"No, it was that vampire's fault, whoever they are," Sunghoon pointed out factually, keeping the heated grudge in his chest to a minimum. He could not afford to have another breakdown over that incident. "They tried to cheat the system and get a discharge earlier than they should. Jay pointed out their lack of progress, albeit he can be harsh sometimes. If they get angry, it is on them. Attacking you had only proved Jay's point." 

When he saw the grimace on your face, he flicked your forehead to snap you out of your guilted trance. You met his eyes with a glare. He only smirked in return.

"You made the right decision that time, but this time? Not so much," he made a humming noise as he tilted his head for a playful effect, and then he eyed you thoughtfully. "I think you don't want to hurt Jungwon." 

“I am definitely not throwing rusty locks at his face, that’s for sure,” you retorted after a moment of thought. You left your palm out, leaving the bracelet up for grabs and indicating to him that you genuinely thought you didn't have to have it. “It isn’t just him either. I have vampire friends. Heeseung is my friend. Jake and Jay are both people I talk to every day.” 

"Heeseung would probably want to be more than that," Sunghoon casually added, wiggling his brows up and down playfully, which you wholeheartedly ignored as you always have when he talked about Heeseung's feelings for you.  

His face fell flat after a moment of silence. He stared at you; his brilliant eyes, for once, held less intelligence and more tenderness in them. This has been an unlikely friendship, and it has been one that he treasured however much he could.

He has your back; he promised himself once. He would look out for you, nag you like a father, and cover up a murder for you.  

And never again would he go through the hopeless torment of panicking when a staff burst through his office door with you unconscious on their back, blood trailing out the holes in your neck and the wound visible on your forehead.

And he could think of nothing aside from shouting your name loud enough for Heeseung, who had thankfully been somewhere in this building, to hear.  

Sunghoon needed you to be safe. He needed you to take every precaution there is to be safe. 

“Jungwon is a good kid, I will admit that. But a vampire who doesn’t know how to control himself cannot be more than that. If it makes you feel bad to villainize his potential, then let me be the person to do it,” he told you as he flicked your forehead gently. “Just wear the bracelet. Consider it a favor requested.” 

You smirked to yourself as you carefully wore the bracelet on your wrist. You were never going to refute his caution, anyway. While you did think wearing the bracelet may be an act of overthinking, you did plan to keep it with yourself just in case you needed it. When you were done adjusting the newfound weight on your wrist, you held your arm up and showed it to your friend. 

“There! Does this make you feel better, hmm?” You said, shaking your wrist at his face. 

Sunghoon only chuckled in agreement, pushing your hand away while stepping back. Neither you nor he bid each other a verbal farewell when you turned around and left for the door. Sunghoon watched your back for a moment before he returned to his desk, getting ready to pile up some documents for work.  

Jungwon quickly turned away when he heard your footsteps near the other side of the door. He had not been eavesdropping intentionally. Like Sunghoon said, he has been hearing everything at once, so your conversation with the doctor could not escape his grasp either.  

He wished he didn't have to hear what you both have to say about him, though, because all he felt was guilt knowing that you bear no ill will toward him, not even after he gave you an attitude you did not deserve.

It might make him feel better if he settled with the assumption that you lied, knowing he could be eavesdropping on your conversation, but even then, it did not give you any reason not to get pissed at him for being nosy.  

Most importantly, though, he did not like hearing that he was a potential danger to others. He spent his whole life falling victim to the danger created by others. Now it felt like the roles were reversed instead of destroyed. They were reversed the second he became a vampire, but he could ignore it until a professional confronted him about it indirectly.  

Jungwon sluggishly slid his body against the wall, feeling the tip of his fangs poke at his bottom lip for a moment—lord, they were still there! The most prominent threat of his being stayed present on his face, and he hated it.

His fangs were equivalent to the beer bottle in his mother's hands and the raging veins on his father's neck. He could not get rid of dangerous, harmful, or disastrous things even if he tried. It was a shame. 

Letting out a mumbled groan, he turned his body over to face the wall completely. He shoved his hands in his pockets and dipped his head, letting his hood cover most of his face as he buried himself against the wall. He wanted to shrink into thin air. He wanted to stop existing entirely.  

“Is this an attempt to hide?” You asked lightheartedly once you saw him, your eyes scanning his figure as if trying to find his hidden face. 

“Yes,” Jungwon replied with a nod.  

You sighed, stepping closer without ceasing your attempt to see him. "Are your fangs still out?" 

“Yes,” he replied again but much quieter. His nod was more of an indication of his answer than his voice was. 

Your smile softened. You would reassure Jungwon that he looked fine if you could, but you knew it was futile to make him feel better. A teenager as cynical as him would rather accuse you of your deception, if anything. You could only give him time and privacy to prepare for all that he must do after this terrible day. That level of sympathy you gave him was against the worker's guidelines.  

The rehabilitation center may be funded richly, with ample technologies, knowledge, equipment, and space to accomplish its purpose. But the hearts of those in power lacked empathy for those who suffer, and no amount of money could ever earn you a heart that beats for others.  

"We are supposed to meet the coaches today. They will teach you how to properly control your vampirism, which you must learn if you want a shot of getting out of here with no dire criminal record," you whispered closely to him. "But if you're uncomfortable right now, we can put that off until later today."  

Jungwon bit his lower lip and cringed at the sheer pointedness of the stab. Even though the fangs were on his face, he still forgot their existence. That must be a form of indication that he would be a lousy vampire.

He could get famous from this: the world's stupidest vampire, Yang Jungwon, who killed his parents at the tender age of seventeen, but the clock was not in his favor!  

God, he felt stupid. So stupid. 

“My fangs are still out,” he said. I feel ugly. He wanted to add. 

“The coaches are vampires. I don’t think they will mind,” you responded.  

That was not what he was whining about. To him, meeting with familiar individuals wouldn't serve him the comfort he needed. Not that he needed comfort! He wanted solutions, an end to this madness, and a path to the vampire who did this to him so he could timidly act on his vengeance. Unless another vampire could provide resources for all those, he would not enjoy meeting them.  

You watched his disheartened expression with ease. This was not the first time you encountered new vampires who disliked how their vampirism looked, for most of them have known the blood veins and black eyes to be a sign of danger, and no beings like to exist as what they are taught to avoid.

You have learned there wasn’t much you could say but to provide a sense of belonging.  

Not so much in the sense of inclusion or blending in. That could happen later. It was more to show that there is no harm done in their presence being here, that their being anywhere is not a crime or a disservice.  

“Nobody here minds you,” you said. “I don’t mind you.” 

But you have to say that, surely? Or could you be telling the truth? Was it a lie disguised as comfort? Did it matter if it was? Did it matter if it was anything?

There was comfort in your words, even though he was hell-bent on acting as if logical solutions to his problems were all he needed. He knew he liked the sound of the comfort; he felt awkward receiving it, but there was no denying the relieved exhale he let out. 

Jungwon gave you a peek, his frown deepening in thought. He felt the retracting of his fangs for a second, but the second he was aware of them, they grew back.

Kindness was kept on your face, a smile that went a long way to meet him, and he thought he wanted to do what you asked. He thought he wanted to be nice to you, listen well, and not complain.  

"I bet they look like sparkling royalties," he grumbled as he pushed himself off the wall and stumbled away. He stopped to look back at you, his confused gaze asking you to give him directions. 

“You are half correct about that,” you laughed as you brushed past him to walk ahead, leading him to where he needed to go. “They don’t look like royalties, but they do sparkle.” 

Jungwon knew you lied to him about vampires sparkling.

In fact, he was living proof of what a vampire would look like, which was neither akin to royalty nor Tinker Bell because he believed he possessed neither of those elements.

He already knew the truth. Besides, he would be naive to believe in what was blatantly a joke. Yet, when he saw that the vampire couch in the gymnasium was nothing short of a sweating and intimidating man, he felt betrayed.

“Your kid is studying me like a hawk,” Jay muttered to you after he leaned down to be at your ear level. He shared a glance with you and furrowed his brows semi-humorously, debating whether he wanted to meet Jungwon’s eyes in return. “Also, his fangs are out.” 

“He is agitated. The police station just sent him here not too long ago,” you replied as you rummaged through your pockets and gave him a slip of paper clipped between your fingers. “Sunghoon told me to give this to you.”

You did not give him enough time to dwell on what you said. He received the paper with a quiet thanks and examined it immediately, his brows furrowed at the unsightly, doctor-like handwriting Sunghoon had. The note briefly noted Jungwon’s poor vampiric beginning. 

The limited information given by Sunghoon was about what Jay expected would be written on there, which was that Jungwon has all the power a man would hope for and none of the physical or emotional control over it.

He has met and trained a diverse group of newly turned vampires—from young to old, from knowledgable and clueless, from excited to depressed. Jungwon and his ordinary self were no exception when it came to boring Jay’s decades of experiences. 

“Sunghoon wrote that he is altruistic,” Jay commented in faint surprise, not because Jungwon possessed a human characteristic but because Sunghoon complimented someone.

You scoffed a laugh as you briefly looked to the side at Jungwon. The boy was tapping his feet impatiently with his head now hung low. You assumed he heard what Jay said about his staring, but it could just as likely be him trying to hide his face. 

Leaning closer to Jay, you recalled, “Sunghoon tried to punch me–it was a bluff. He sped over and slammed into the wall.”

“That shows that he is altruistic. Why?” Jay questioned.

You shrugged in response. “I don’t know. He might just be angry, but we like to think part of him wanted to block the punch for me.”

You saw him roll his eyes and knew he had something to say about your assumptions. You also knew what he wanted to say and were glad he kept his mouth shut. 

Out of all your colleagues, Jay was the one who warned you the most about the predatory nature of vampires.

While Sunghoon also worries greatly because of his naturally untrusting nature, the smart-ass tends to take action rather than talk. Hence, he gave you the bracelet to wear. Jay was different. Jay was good at the negative talking and the paranoid over-assuming.

His nagging exaggerated for a while after your incident, to which he silently blamed his own harshness as fault for your trauma.

Until today, no matter how many times you pushed him out of the equation, he wondered if things would have gone differently if he had been nicer to people.

But he has made no effort to change his attitude. His harshness was not a fault, even though it has caused mistakes. 

What he did was take steps to prevent it, and he did that by spreading repeated warnings to you whenever he could.

Be careful of vampires. Be wary of vampires. They can and will hurt you. Pain and death are where vampires come from, after all. Please don’t get hurt, don’t let them hurt you. If you get hurt, I get hurt.

He has never voiced it. He assumed you understood with the way he loved the people around him. 

It wasn’t that Jay believed in a lack of goodness in vampires. Never take his negativity as a case of personal beliefs. He wasn’t a bad vampire, and he knew that. Jake was far from a murderous vampire, and everyone knew that. Rather, he found himself needing to be the cautious one. 

He has to be careful and aloof so Jake, the more cheerful part of the duo, can live believing in the best of people. Because Jake has never had the heart in him to think ill of anyone, and because his loving heart will break under the pressure of cruelty.  

The negativity does not hurt Jay. For decades, he chose to live with doom and gloom, and it does not hurt him because he will do anything for Jake. However, it was not something you like to hear, so you appreciate it when he keeps it to himself unless necessary. 

“I don’t blame him for being angry. He did turn because of an assault when he was heading home from school,” you informed as quietly as you could.

Jay hummed lowly in acknowledgment, but there was barely any shred of compassion in him as he continued the conversation casually.

“Most of us turned because of an assault. A vampire that didn’t drain our blood completely, a vampire that thought it would be fun to use the sire bond to manufacture a group of followers. Hell, the last person I trained got lucky and took some blood from the vampire that attacked him during self-defense.” 

“Then you would understand the consequences of experiencing that.” You nudged his arm lightly and flashed him a pointed glare, willing him to be more outwardly compassionate.

That Jay understood. How could he not? His own transition was far from a dreamy occasion. 

He was a measly boy working at a bar, wiping tables and mopping the floor, who got caught in the path of a condescending vampire who wanted the newfound power. He endured a torturous night, the details of it locked behind his lips and Jake’s memories.

Before the brink of his death, his best friend came to a messy rescue. He was supposed to be healed, but the angry man snatched him from Jake’s arms and staked a knife through his heart, not noticing that Jake had already fed his blood.

The emotions he felt after he opened his eyes again were indescribable, mostly because he felt nothing. Perhaps he could pass it off as vengeance or infuriation, but his goal had not been to take back what was stripped from him.

e could say he felt murderous, yet his actions were not attached to any emotions. He was without a plan, any clues, or a reason.

He was just a man who walked because he had to kill another man because he could kill another man. 

He had been cruel, and he unlearned that in decades’ worth of time. Although unlearned, it was never forgotten. The violence only slipped between the gaps of his fingers and dripped away from his fingertips, where he had immediate access. But it could quickly come back.

His anger and the immense strength that came with it could return with just a snap of his mind.

“You will have to be in touch with Heeseung and me about his training progress more consistently,” you told him after giving a moment of silence. 

“Because of the court cases? I already do that,” Jay muttered,

“No, this one is special,” you said, leaning in to speak as quietly as you could for irrational reasons. Jungwon could hear you if he wanted to. “He killed his parents just before the clock struck on his birthday. Technically, the murder happened when he was a minor, but he was arrested as an adult and could very well be charged as one, but–“

“He is only eighteen years old.”

“–he is only eighteen years old.” 

Your voice dropped slowly upon Jay’s knowing echo of your words. Then your shoulders slumped as the complications and the sheer stupidity of those complications hit you in the face. 

Vampiric control aside, supernaturals aside, the jump between seventeen and eighteen does not entail the process of maturation the law states that it has.

Or, at least, for the apparent moral dilemmas, it does not exist.

A seventeen-year-old or a thirteen-year-old child knows just as well as any adult that killing people is terrible. Those are not taught by experiences or maturity. Those are things a human being just knows. 

So why should Jungwon be given a lighter sentence? Did his tragic circumstances come into play? Was it his young age or his perceived innocence? Why should children who understand the moral slope of heinous crimes be given juvenile punishments? Did the rules of nature and magic become a considerable factor?

Was it our empathy, the very thing we pride ourselves in? Was it our ability to mix black and white to various degrees of gray? Was it fair to argue “but“ when death exists? 

But they are children. But they were defending themselves. But they did it for a greater cause. But those people were bad. But they had no other choice. But they were forced to do this. But it was the lesser of two evils.

Circumstances and the compassion people have for them bring about inequality in legal punishments, and justice calls for inequality. It is fair sometimes.

Sometimes, you look at an eighteen-year-old, and you think how unfair it would be that he be sentenced to a hundred years in prison for a crime he did not wish to commit after being turned into a creature he did not ask to become. 

“I don’t feel bad for him,” Jay said, breaking the silence.

“Plenty of people already don’t,” you said with a heavy exhale. “Maybe it will do him good to not treat him like a victim, though. He doesn’t need any more pitiful spotlight than he already puts himself under.”

"Well, I have never been one to treat people like babies." Jay smiled as he folded the piece of paper Sunghoon had written on and shoved it into his pockets. 

He stepped away from you to see your face better, and his heart softened. His mind was playing tricks on him, but he thought you were beginning to look just a little older than him.

To think you two were the same physical age when you first joined the rehabilitation center, and now you were nearing the end goal of your career dream.

"How is the doctorate program treating you?" He asked. "You have plans to work here when you finish school?"

“Probably not. I am studying to be a researcher, not a counselor,” you replied.

“Bummer,” he laughed. “The kids always leave.” 

You scrunched your nose in dismay and then looked at him with the same discomfort. "Get out of the habit of saying that. I will look older than you at some point, and it will sound awkward when you refer to me as a kid."

“Once again, conveniently forgetting that I am about a couple hundred years older than you,” he hummed in defeat.

“It’s not my fault you were attacked and turned at twenty years old." You accessed the changes in his facial expression—he gave you a playfully disapproving look, and you laughed. “I’m sorry. Don’t refer to me as a kid, though.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Jay exclaimed jokingly as he knocked his knuckles against the side of your head, his feet taking him away from you and toward Jungwon. “You are already starting to look older than me.”

You raised your fist as a threat to throw him a punch. Your eyes followed him toward the gymnasium door, and you worried for a split second when you saw that Jungwon's eyes brightened in alert upon Jay's approach.

Then, quickly, you caught a glimpse of a moving figure by the double doors. When you focused on it, you could see a head of fluffy black peeking over the door frame, and you pursed your lips into a faint smile.

Heeseung gripped his phone excitedly when he saw you approach him.

He has been running around all day since his shift started (if it ever ends). Jungwon's case came crashing into the legal department of the rehabilitation center this morning. With his unfortunate luck, it landed right in his supervisor's lab.

The peculiarity of this legal case has got him running in circles, gathering information and document, that his head had begun hurting since lunch hours.

Knowing he would see you at some point during the day kept him going. Thankfully, the time arrived earlier than usual.

Mostly, on a regular day, you two would meet up when your shift ends, which would be the time when Heeseung clocks out for dinner so he could spend an hour with you. You two would have dinner and, if time allows, walk around the busy street, and he would send you home before heading back to his office to work overtime. 

“You look dapper,” you complimented with a grin.

Heeseung fixed the roll line of his blazer with a huffed giggle. He briefly glanced down at himself; at least his attire remained tidy. “Thank you,” he replied. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” 

You smirked, your eyes focusing nowhere. “I try my best. The dress code here is horrendous.”

“Ugh, I know, right?” he exclaimed under his breath, his brows furrowed almost passionately at the sudden emergence of a fashion topic. “I know most workplaces have their employees wear suits to work, but I am sweating my ass off in this! I don’t even know how there isn’t a wet patch on my back right now!”

Shifting your weight, you leaned back slightly to glance at his behind, to which he quickly responded by turning his body toward you and laughing. You shrugged innocently in response, the excuse of curiosity hanging quietly at your mouth as you half-heartedly apologized.  

A refreshing wave washed through Heeseung upon seeing your shrunken smile. After facing plain walls of texts, exhausted colleagues, and an annoyed supervisor all day, it was satisfying to see you. As if seeing you was never the only highlight of his day anyway. 

That aside, there was something he was initially here for—Jungwon’s trial. 

“We’ve got ourselves in a bit of a pickle,” he initiated as he tapped his phone screen, a device he has been relentlessly communicating with you through today.

Afterward, he looked into the gymnasium and fixed his gaze on Jay. His brows furrowed at the boy he assumed to be Jungwon, and he huffed quietly, “Is that him?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s always good to put a face to a name,” Heeseung exhaled tiredly, trying to remove the frown that appeared when he saw Jungwon’s fangs were visible. “I have some important things to tell you about the case.”

You stood closer to him. You debated if you wanted to take this somewhere else, considering Jungwon’s supernatural hearing ability.

However, he was preoccupied following Jay’s seemingly horrendous instruction as the coach tested his vampiric abilities. Y

ou doubted he even had the time to listen in on your conversation. You hummed; Sunghoon did mention he was hearing everything at once, though. Eavesdropping may be out of his control. 

Pulling at the hem of his blazer sleeve, you pulled Heeseung a few steps backward until you two reached the corner of the opposite wall. You flashed him a defeated look when he laughed and waved him off. “I wanted to make sure he can’t hear us.”

“Sure!” Heeseung replied. “You still have to tell him what we talked about, though. At least some of the information I have.”

“Of course.” You nodded before rubbing your hands together and looking at him expectantly. “So, how is it gonna go?”

Your breathlessness was not masked in your words, and how your brows furrowed contradicted the anticipated optimism in your eyes.

You were expecting lousy news while desperately hoping he could give you something to be wrong about, to which Heeseung could only react with a great hurt in his chest because he has little to no great news about this case. 

“I won’t say what I have is necessarily bad news. It really just depends on how we view it,” he started lightly, the gestures in his hands reluctant. A pursed smile on his face signified thoughtfulness, which was familiar to him.

“Most important thing, this information is still tentative, but from what I have heard, they are assigning Judge Park to this case, which means–“

“We are doomed.”

“Not quite! Maybe we are, but I think we can work around it!” 

You stared at Heeseung defeatedly, finding his forced optimism lackluster and uncomfortable. He returned your gaze with the same nervousness and the apologetic smile he had yet to wipe off his face upon giving you this terrible news.

Judge Park was known for his prejudice against supernaturals; he was often mean, vulgar, and antagonistic to every supernatural he had encountered in court.

Unfortunately, the lack of vile language allowed in such a professional setting was compensated with critical gazes, a narrow mind, a complete disregard for circumstances, and finally, a maximum sentence. 

It was for understandable reason, although you vehemently disagreed with it anyway. Judge Park’s family was involved in a case of manslaughter done by a werewolf on a full moon. There was a brief debate online over the justification of his cruelty to supernatural beings. 

For one, it is an unspoken law that human beings do not wander into the woodlands on any specially marked date on the universe calendar, such as the full moon (werewolves), the start of each season (fairies), or the third Sunday of November (yokai).

While it is given that supernaturals and human beings should live harmoniously together and that not all supernaturals are inherently dangerous, humans are responsible for protecting themselves and respecting the boundaries of non-human traditions. 

Disregarding the universal knowledge of what happens to a werewolf on a full moon, as well as the warnings given by the witches, who act as the messengers of nature and magic, to not enter the dark woods, Judge Park took his family out to stargaze at the perfect spot deep in the woods anyway.

He believed that it was his freedom to do as he pleased and that he should not live in a world where he had to fear the danger of being killed. His belief was only magnified after his family’s death. 

Some people agreed that the fault lay in the Judge himself. Most people did not venture into the forest during the full moon, knowing the potential harm that could happen to them, meaning that Judge Park’s disobedience is not a pattern but an oddity.

It was his fault for not following the rules, which everyone else had no issue abiding by. He has the right to grief and to be angry, but ultimately, he had what was coming for him. 

Some others took this case as some sort of awakening and decided that Judge Park was right.

Why should human beings live in fear on certain days? Why should people not be allowed to stroll in the forest because some werewolves might lose control of it? If werewolves knew they would cause other people harm, they should be the ones locking themselves up in a basement. Take their issue somewhere private and stop bothering ordinary people with it!

Most people did not pick a side. Jungwon was one of them. As a child, his stance was that both sides were wasting their time. Sure, he would hate to be forbidden from visiting some places because some supernatural beings cannot control their biology, as ironic as that sounded.

At the same time, by the lord! If people are going to complain about not going to the forest for one night, maybe they don’t deserve to have an opinion at all! Whiny bastards deserve nothing!

Since that publicized tragedy, Judge Park has been strictly cruel to supernaturals, disregarding their circumstances. His bias was blatant, but there has been no outcry about it.

Only a tiny portion of human beings have gathered together to talk about this issue. In contrast, most others simply went about their day realizing that their significantly shorter lifespan did not need the social pressure that has very little to do with their species. 

Jungwon may fall victim to that. 

“There is one thing I figure we might be able to do to appeal to him,” Heeseung mentioned after he took an exhausted breath. He waited a moment before he spoke, “My supervisor thinks this is a far stretch, but I think if we emphasize Jungwon’s accident, we might have a fighting chance.” 

“I thought Judge Park doesn’t consider tragedies,” you pointed out, brows furrowed.

“He doesn’t, but his record shows that most cases involved adult offenders. I mean old adults, like people in their thirties, which makes sense since he is not a juvenile judge.” Heeseung rolled his eyes as his voice fell off. “But I suspect he tends to be assigned to cases with older perpetrators because he doesn’t like sentencing younger people.”

He held out his index finger to signal you to hold your opinion. He has more to say. Even though his supervisor may be correct that his assumption was a stretch to the moon, he has to believe in himself somehow to feel a sense of security in this case.

Not only did he think he was obligated to win his cases as a law student, but his perfectionism would not allow him any other path but success. 

“Jungwon is exactly the age of his son when the accident happened. Similarly, Jungwon was also attacked by a supernatural, therefore committing the crime that he did,” Heeseung said. “Bringing up that similarity and reminding Judge Park that Jungwon was just a normal boy before the uncontrollable incident happened might just steer us down the winning road.”

“So we are using the excuse that he is young, that he has a whole life ahead of him, and that this is technically not his fault as our defense,” you muttered with a raise of your brows. “We’ve all heard that one before.” 

“Hey! One point can be made moral in one argument and not in another!” He retorted in a silent scream. “The world is gray, not black and white!”

“Nothing about being manipulative is morally upright.”

“And I don’t claim to be a saint.” Heeseung smiled with a boyish shrug. “Lord knows I’m not in the eyes of the anti-believers… and the believers….” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Do the bible believers and the supernatural haters make up one Venn diagram, where the middle just has the word vampire crossed out with bright red paint?”

Your best friend chuckled, his voice as hearty as his smile, as he barely dodged your arm slap. You had rolled your eyes at him, but you appreciated the occasional jokes he still managed to make despite such a stressful situation. 

Then, silence fell between the gap where you two stood. Heeseung stood staring at you. It is, on occasion, the only thing he knew how to do. It has been that way for months after you two befriended each other at university.

You merely looked elsewhere to dismiss his blatant gaze, but your heart cooed. If any of your friends saw this, especially Sunghoon, they would mock you again. 

Jungwon looked normal again. His fangs had retracted from his gums, and his eyes were of a usual, boyish glint once again. He had removed his hoodie and left himself with only a shirt, probably to combat the heat from doing more vampire tests for his record file.

You were unsure what Jay taught or made him do, but Jungwon looked significantly more comfortable with a more knowledgeable vampire in his presence. He looked excited as he listened intently to what Jay was teaching him. 

“He should be at school,” you whispered to Heeseung, then you looked at him in realization. “We have to help him catch up with his college application.” 

Heeseung widened his eyes, his gears turning. “College…? He has to turn in late applications at this point.”

“That’s what I told him.” You nodded in agreement.

“Okay… that should be no problem,” he mentioned, although the light tremor in his voice betrayed his spoken optimism. “We will have to visit his school anyway to talk about his attendance and ask if we can bring any of his friends to testify in his favor. You can talk about college with the administration then.” 

You nodded in agreement. “Just keep me posted about the schedules.”

“Got it.” Heeseung snapped his fingers. “We are still figuring things out, but for now, there are a few rules you need to make sure Jungwon follows to a T to make our side more compelling.”

Heeseung began to list things that seemed reasonable enough: Jungwon should use his vampiric abilities moderately. The best bet is that he only uses them during training and doctor's appointments. Never get caught using his powers to his advantage. Show up to all of his appointments.

Last but definitely not least, never ever harm a human being. These were all standard rules to follow for vampires being put on trial, so you were not surprised to hear them.

With your brief knowledge of Jungown, you doubted he would have issues following them. He might be exuding some form of teenage rebellion here and there, but those were limited to fits and tantrums, not sinking fangs into flesh and whatnot. 

“You need to schedule therapy sessions for him,” Heeseung added. “The therapist will be called to court to testify. We need to clarify that his trauma isn't going to be used as a justification for potential future crimes.”

You furrowed your brows; that felt insensitive but not illogical, unfortunately. Not to mention, Heeseung could not afford to value emotions as a lawyer unless he needed to use them as a manipulative device.

He was good at it, but he was affected by it. There have been times, though, when you could hear in his drunken haze (a rare sight; vampires do not get drunk quickly) that the first thing he would do after turning a hundred years old was to leave this career. 

With a soft nod and a faraway hum, you let him know that you retained everything he told you and would take care of it.

You turned your head and looked into the gymnasium again. You caught Jungwon’s eyes this time. He may have been resting or staring curiously at the man you were talking to. You debated whether to introduce them to each other until Jungwon removed himself from a social opening by turning away completely. 

There was an unsatisfactory pout on his face to show that he hated something, whatever it was. Your best guess was that he was thrown into this whole situation.

Having to meet you and everyone else, having to follow rules that could affect his livelihood, having to train and learn new ways of living—he probably hated everything that had happened so far,  and you could only hope to get him out of it. 

“Can you do that?”

Jungwon has blocked your voice out. He couldn’t recall precisely when his head began to tune your voice out, but he suspected it had something to do with him having to follow more rules for the sake of his manslaughter trial. 

But he knew he didn't entirely tune you out. After all, what you told him concerned his livelihood, which, if all goes well, would last for a painfully long time.

Don't use his vampire powers, get used to his abilities, don't hurt human beings, and control your emotions—he heard what you said. His act of blocking you out was more of a silent tantrum. It was something that screamed that he was exhausted and had no intention of following you. 

From today on, every step he takes would be an obligatory step. He takes them not because he wants to but because he has to.

Following the schedule curated for him by the rehabilitation system, he goes to training when it wants him to, and he goes to the doctor’s office when it asks him to.

He gets over killing his parents and their death under a pressuring amount of time because the court needs him to. Or else his mind rots in prison for the next hundred years.

Jungwon flicked his nails against his skin, a sense of vengeance flaring in his chest at the thought of his destiny's cruelty.

Nothing ever changed, and nothing ever will. He was trapped in his abusive parents' home. He got trapped in a body he never asked for. Thus, he is in a system that does not have his best interest in mind, and he will get stuck in prison because nothing ever goes well for him.

Pain was only ever the answer. He belonged to it. 

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Jungwon replied lowly. He glared at you, his gaze more tired than hateful. “If I don’t do this, I get punished.”

You sighed at a loss for words. Perhaps acting as if he had freedom when he was on the tightest leash ever known to mankind would be a mistake. You valued optimism, but false hope should never be disguised as such.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jungwon muttered. “This didn’t happen because of you.”

Your heart dropped further down your stomach, but you responded with a change of topic. “I will be booking you some sessions with our therapist. Just giving you a heads up.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed when he caught himself doing that. 

He was getting more irritable as the day went on, which was unlike himself. The lack of his parents' existence gave him a false sense of freedom and relief.

Along with the confusion and pain, there were those meekly positive feelings. They made him feel whatever he wanted, and most importantly, they made him express those emotions whenever he wanted, regardless of how it could make others feel.

He was dissatisfied with the way he was acting. Growing up, he was conditioned to be the perfect child; by perfect, it meant sitting still and being quiet about his issues. Suddenly being forced to break out of that norm felt freeing and uncomfortable, not to mention how much his attitude affected others around him. 

Sunghoon gave him a blatant reaction by holding little to nothing back when he expressed his indifference to him, even though Jungwon liked to think that man might be a peculiar case of a light-hearted psychopath.

While he was more at ease with Jay, he could tell the coach was choosing to be lenient with him, especially since Jay did not have the face of a kind man. You haven’t said anything, but he thought you must feel rather ill of him.

Everyone he has met so far has an obligation to help him, and all he did was be hissy about it. 

"Would you like to wait a little before you talk to anyone about what happened?" 

Your question broke Jungwon out of his trance. He looked at you, light surfacing back into his eyes as his mind focused on forming a response. 

How has he been feeling? His mind blanked out at the question. He was never used to people asking about his feelings. Even if he was used to talking about them, how should someone feel about this? 

His life just went through a dramatic, violent change, and he was to be prosecuted for it even though he had no control over the matter.

His body was no longer the same as it used to be; he was stronger, faster, and healthier in the most unnatural way possible.

His parents were gone, and the abuse went along with them to the depths of Hell. He became a killer and part of a discriminated group of people overnight. 

How has he been feeling? Overwhelmed. He was so overwhelmed that he felt nothing. 

He shrugged in response and muttered, “I don’t care.”

You hummed. “I will book the first session anyway so you can see how things work. If you don’t feel like talking about anything to a therapist yet, we can wait a little while before we continue.” 

“But eventually, I will have to see one, right?” Jungwon asked rhetorically. 

You knew what he was trying to say. “Yes. I can only try–“

“Well, don’t,” he cut you off. “Just tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it.” 

Jungwon pursed his lips to hold down a short quiver of guilt. He had never dared to talk like this and hated that out of everyone, he decided to act like this toward you.

You didn't give him much of a reaction. You only began scribbling words down in your notebook, which he didn't bother to read this time. When you're done, he timidly eyed you as you looked up from the table.

“Okay… this will be it for today. You should get some rest,” you said as you shut your notebook. “Our facility does provide housing services for our clients. If you don’t feel like going home, I can arrange a room for you to live in for the time being.” 

Tapping his feet against the ground, he spared less than a second to deny your offer. “No, I’m just going to head home.”

“Alright. I will see you tomorrow then.” You flashed him a small smile. “There should be cabs waiting outside the facility to take you home. They are hired by the center, so don’t worry about paying.” 

Jungwon exhaled inwardly at the cue to go home. He stood up, his ears wincing at the chair's squeak against the floor. He stood by your desk momentarily, debating whether to say something.

Anything would do; an apology, a thank you, or a simple farewell. His thoughts scrambled when you looked at him questioningly, and he quickly pulled a face at you before turning around and speeding out of your room.

You blinked in surprise, then you furrowed your brows.

Not even half a minute has passed since you told him about the rules he has to follow, and he has already used his super speed.

The empty apartment felt eerie to him.

Jungwon felt fine still when he unlocked and walked into his home. He was fine still when he closed the door and kicked his shoes off. But as soon as he turned the lights on and faced the grotesque living room, one stained with blood and touched by the hands of law enforcement, he found himself frozen on his spot.

Memories rushed to him now that he stood at the crime scene. 

He remembered the pain he felt the first time his features changed. When the blood in his veins ran dark, his eyes clouded with a foggy haze, causing him to stumble about as his direction was guided only by the smell of blood.

When his teeth grew out of his gums to create fangs, his injuries healed simultaneously as his body broke itself down to accommodate his new identity. He had been sweating with a body heat rivaling that of the sun. 

His drunk father probably couldn’t see his face clearly when he advanced toward him at a superhuman speed, only that he saw a beastly boy and determined that the boy must be his son.

Never once in his eyes has Jungwon ever been precious or lovely. The Jungwon who was suffering and the Jungwon who had blood drenching his skin was how his son had always been to him. Then, the creature attacked him. 

What did his mother look like? Jungwon blocked that part out more carefully than he blocked out the sight of his father. His mother was not ugly.

He loved his mother, and she had been pretty despite the horror. He wished she didn���t have to suffer under his fangs, even though he did suffer by her drunken and fearful hands. She was probably scared of him in her last moments, though. He was sure her final thought was that her son would kill her. 

Jungwon choked out in pain when he felt his eyes shimmer over with blood. He barely noticed his emotions boiling beneath his chest until they burst. The tears were pushed out of them when the blood took up all the spaces in his eyes, rolling down to his opened mouth and evaporating under the pierce of his fangs.

He was turning again, and he despised it. He despised himself. 

“No! Stop it!” He shouted at himself as he doubled over and covered his face, only to pull his hands back when his fangs pierced through the base of his palm. “Stop it! You fucking idiot, stop turning!”

Disastrous child! Foul child! Your parents should have killed you when they had the chance!

They almost did it on multiple occasions, haven’t they? Where did that hatred and fear go, Jungwon? Did they go into the strength of your hands when you broke your mother’s wrist? Did they go into the pearl white of your fangs when you drained your father’s blood?

You murderous child! Death shall be upon you! 

"Stop–help me! Please–it hurts–ughm!" He curled himself into a ball on the ground and immediately turned his face away when he smelt the residue of his parent's blood on the wood floor.

"It hurts! It hurts–help–ah!" He stood up quickly and ran into the nearby wall, breaking a hole through the weak barriers.

His forehead healed immediately, but he was able to relish in the fleeting pain. Death should be upon him—he did it again. The pain was still brief.

When everything was gone, his exhaustion prevented him from hurting himself again. Instead, he slowly slid to the ground. He pulled his legs to his chest, eyes glimmering with tears as he hiccuped uncontrollably. He cried and cried and cried, his sorrow drowning and suffocating with no way out. 

He stared at the spot where he held his dead father's hand, lips mumbling apologies that he would never accept. Then, a sudden calmness descended upon him.

It was a voice in his head or something of an intention. A knowledge that popped into him in the form of vampiric instincts, signaling that there was something he could do to immediately take all his pain away. Something that could take everything away.

It was not death nor healing. It was a quick and easy escape. In his mind, that notion was like a beacon of light; all he had to do was reach it. 

His fangs retreating was the one thing that snapped him out of his trance. He furrowed his brows in confusion, unsure of what that fleeting thought was despite how tempting it was to touch it. He should ask Jay before giving into it.

Jungwon let out shallow breaths as he stood up, not sparing another glance at the living room when he turned around. He left the apartment and closed the door, locking it behind him. But, instead of leaving his home, he sat down on the doormat and decided to stay the night there.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Deal With The Devil

Chapter 2: Hunter

Pairing: Fae!Hyrule x Reader

Warning(s): Eventual smut and some yandere themes

Notes: This was supposed to be posted next week but I got impatient lol

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"Fae troubles, eh?"

Your customer, a tall, heavy-set woman who looked like she could snap your back over her knee without breaking a sweat, asked as you plucked the last health elixir from the recesses of your stall, the glass cool against your fingers.

Your gaze flicked to meet hers, and you huffed, giving the nearby stalls, where you knew the worst of the gossip resided, a tired look. "I wouldn't believe everything I hear in the market, ma'am," you said, handing her the potion. Her skin was cold when it brushed against yours.

The woman, who had introduced herself as Raela, scoffed, tossing several shiny rupees onto the table. They glimmered against the tough wood, and you lamented why you even bothered correcting people anymore. "So I've heard," she let out a low grumble that didn't reach her eyes, which looked more like the sharp edge of a sword than anything. "But the women in the tavern are..."

"Convincing?" you finished with a dull look.

Raela's smile was all teeth. "Right."

You were just about to duck behind the stall when she cleared her throat. "I don't suppose you'd be able to point me to the blacksmith?"

With a sigh, you did just that, tastefully ignoring the heavy steel chains hanging from her pack.

In Hyrule, when it rains, it pours.

You had long since returned home when brewing clouds blotted out the sun and gusts of wind kicked up, carrying a particularly biting chill through the air. The mug was warm against your palms, filled to the brim with fresh-brewed tea, as you gazed out of the window, absentmindedly watching droplets patter against the frosted glass.

There was a terrible crack of thunder, louder than you'd ever heard, and the cottage shook, creaking softly as it was rattled to the very foundations. You jolted in surprise when a burst of lightning illuminated the darkened sky, nearly spilling your tea in your haste to sit on the couch, a thick, scratchy blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. Storms were okay, but you were never able to shake the uneasiness that their arrival heralded.

It was going to be a long night, you were sure.

Until you heard it.

A screech, unlike any animal you'd heard, broke through the air like a cannon, so piercing that you feared your ears would begin bleeding from the sound alone. You shot up from the couch, hissing when a bit of tea splashed onto your fingers. Nearly stiff with shock, you all but threw the cup down and bolted for the backyard, where the noise had come from. Another scream had you flinging the door open, uncaring of the storm raging just outside.

It was dark out, but you still managed to make out the shape of something at the edge of the forest. Something Hylian. A bolt of lightning illuminated the area once more, and you gasped at the sight of a man standing–well, he looked more like he was leaning–at the tree line, one hand clutched over his clothed stomach, the fabric glimmering a shade of crimson. Your heart dropped, then lept into your throat as you called. "Hey!"

The man's head snapped up. You couldn't make out his features through the pouring rain, but you didn't need to. Steeling yourself, you dashed outside, slowing to a stop when a low growl rumbled louder than the storm, throwing your hands up. "Hey– it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you!" you called over the thunder, but it fell on deaf ears.

Another snarl ripped through the air. The man lurched forward, falling on his knees in the mud. You stepped closer, ignoring the way your soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to your body, chilled with freezing rain. It was then that you noticed the shine of his eyes; a pure, honey-colored gold that shone firebright against the whites of his eyes. Though horrifically injured, he was on his knees in an instant, expression pulled tight with rage and... was that fear?

"Let me help," you coaxed over the cacophony, voice wavering in a way that made you cringe. The man hissed in what you could only assume was pain, clutching his stomach tighter, and you didn't miss the way crimson blood dripped down his hand in a steady, worrying stream. His lips were pulled back, revealing a set of too-sharp canines. "You're bleeding–"

"Leave!" the man bellowed, though it didn't do much in terms of dissuading your approach when he fell flat on his face the next second, body going limp in the shiny mud.

You stared, frozen, at his unconscious body for a bit longer than necessary, making sure he was well and passed out before you tried anything. Once the initial shock had passed, you were at his side in an instant, maneuvering him onto his back to get a better look at the gash in his stomach, which spanned nearly from his hip to where you assumed his bottom-most rib would be. "Shit," you hissed, using the last vestiges of strength in your body to haul his limp form into your arms. He was lighter than expected, making the dash back into the safety of your house thankfully easier.

Once inside, you kicked the door shut and b-lined for the kitchen, carefully laying him down on the dining table. The first thing you noticed about him was his hair–deep brown, with enough curl that not even the pouring rain had managed to force it flat. His face was flecked with dirt, but it didn't look that out of place when you considered the galaxy of freckles already marking his cheeks and nose.

With your arms free, you went to retrieve the first-aid kit, setting it down by his head after recovering a pair of scissors. There was no way you'd be able to maneuver his tunic off in time, so cutting it would have to be the only option. Raising the scissors, you positioned them at the edge of the forest-green fabric, slicing a long, straight line up to his chest, yanking the garment open as quickly as you could, revealing the true scope of the wound.

Your lips parted in a silent gasp.

The gash was nasty; far too long for comfort, with thick, ragged edges that welled crimson blood, spilling down his rain-soaked sides to stain the table beneath. Some even pooled in his navel, dripping downwards to dye the light dusting of hair a striking–

You grabbed a handful of gauze and pressed it to the wound, ignoring the way his flesh jumped beneath your flesh. A quick glance revealed that the man was still passed out, and you considered it a small mercy, especially since there was no way in Hylia you weren't going to have to stitch him up.

You reached into the kit and pulled out a needle, thread, and some salve.

It was going to be a long night.

Hyrule awoke naked.

Not fully, of course, courtesy of the thin sheet covering his body, but the point still stood. The fae sat up with a soft hiss, the sheet falling to reveal his chest and abdomen, wrapped in thick white bandages. There was an ache in his stomach, but it was dull and he felt far too numb to do anything but study his surroundings, one hand resting protectively over the patched wound.

His gaze roamed the room, taking in the eggshell-colored walls, mismatched end tables, and thick, multicolored rug that covered the oak floor. A painting of a river sat on the wall, and the couch he laid on was a soft shade of plum. It appeared to be a living room, though all his years living in the forest made it a bit hard to distinguish.

A sudden, shrill whistle broke through his reverie.

Hyrule froze; hackles raised, ears pinned tightly against damp curls. His bleary mind recognized it as the sound a teakettle made when it was finished boiling, but he was far more preoccupied with the soft shuffle of feet padding closer. His mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario–one where he would be bound and sold to the highest bidder–and he was on his feet before he could blink, the sheet falling to the floor with a soft thud.

A foot crossed the threshold. "Hey, you're aw– oh my Hylia!"

You. It was you.

Until you yelped, covering your face with one hand while the other held a steaming mug. Hyrule couldn't begin to understand why you looked so embarrassed until he glanced down and... oh. OH.

With a gasp, he practically dove down to grab the sheet, ignoring the painful throb in his abdomen at the action. He deftly wrapped the fabric around his waist, careful to avoid the wound. A steady flush consumed his cheeks, and he struggled to remember the last time he had felt so exposed.

You peeked through your fingers, relaxing slightly.

"I'm so sorry," were the first words out of your mouth. "You were bleeding and I wanted to make sure you didn't have any more injuries–" you cut yourself off with a cough, cheeks losing a bit of their redness. "Do you... want tea?"

Tea? Hyrule's gaze flicked to the mug in your hands, just now registering the sweet smell emanating from it. He hesitated. On one hand, there was no way of telling what was in it–until it was too late, that is–but on the other, this was you. You, who fed and played with his sisters with a grin bright enough to rival the sun. You, who had found him in the rain and patched him up without a second thought. You, who looked at him with a concern that had his heart shuddering in his chest.

Slowly, he nodded, not trusting his words. Your lips curved in a soft smile and you gestured for him to sit on the couch, which he did with little complaint. The fabric was soft and the cushions were warm, though the heat emanating from the mug you handed him dwarfed all.

"Do you remember your name?" you asked softly, making no move to approach him, standing in the middle of the room with your arms folded at your stomach.

His brows furrowed. He took a sip of the tea. It was sweet, with the barest taste of honey. "Yes."

"May I know it?"

"Hyrule," he said instantly, the moniker slipping easily off his tongue. Even though he knew you meant no harm, it would take more than a mug of tea to get the name 'Link' from his lips.

"Hyrule," you repeated, testing it out. If you were at all confused by the fact that he shared the same name as the land itself, you made no comment. "I like it."

You... liked it? He was half-tempted to ask you to repeat that. the last time he had shared his name with someone, they spat it like a curse, like it was the moniker of the devil. Maybe it was. Maybe you didn't care.

He stared at the swirling liquid in the cup, trying and failing to ignore the blooming warmth in his chest. This was not how things were supposed to go. "Thank you."

You shifted your weight, and he tried not to track the swayed movement of your hips. "Are you hungry?" you asked after a beat, expression curious.

His mouth opened and closed. Yes, he was starving, but he doubted even someone as kind as you would go out of their way to make food, especially for him, seeing as he couldn't even begin to stomach Hylian food on the best of days. "No."

You chewed your lip, eyes flicking down to his bandaged stomach. Hyrule had the distinct feeling that you didn't believe him. "You should eat," your tone was soft, non-confrontational. "Your wound is–... it'll help you heal."

"I can't," the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. Hyrule clutched the mug close, internally cursing the slip. He had no idea if you knew whether he was fae or not, and even if you did, there was no telling if you would turn him in or--

Your voice tore through the silence, arms folding over your chest. "Can't or won't?"

Hyrule hesitated. He had already admitted it, but it didn't keep the lump in his throat at bay.

"Can't," he all but whispered, unable to meet your eyes.

Silence.

The fae chanced a glance in your direction. You didn't look angry or disappointed, just... contemplative?

"Okay," you spoke slowly, having come to a decision. "But...! If you could, what would you want? Um, hypothetically?"

Hyrule felt the distinct urge to deadpan, though he refrained, taking a large gulp of tea. He kept his gaze trained on you, wondering if it would be enough to get you to let it go. Did he want you to let it go?

You watched him for a few seconds, then sighed, running a hand through your hair. It was then that he noticed the dark, purpling bags beneath your eyes, like you had stayed up all night...

Oh. He suddenly felt a bit bad for being so uncooperative, but you were already gone, leaving him alone in the room. He didn't try calling out, because he had no idea what to say, but the twitching of his hand against the mug said more than a thousand words could.

With a sigh that rivaled yours, he leaned back against the couch, keeping one eye cracked in case you returned.

You didn't, and the silence remained deafening.

Poor Rulie, so distrustful :((((((

[puttersmile]

Allister's Job

Can't think of a more interesting title, but here is some more headcanon. Eventually Allister finds steady work at Bobby's place, the Bear & Biscuits. So Picky's nagging does pay off! I think working at a bar would work well for his personality (or my guess on his personality). I think he'd be into people watching.

I wanted to write a one shot for it but somehow it turned into a weird 2nd person fic that isn't even shippy or romantic. Not sure how I feel about it but I'll post it anyway instead of deleting it like it probably should be.

Laid Back Worker

You step into Bear & Biscuits, the cozy bakery turned bar where the aroma of freshly baked goods mingles with the faint tang of cider and spirits. The place feels like a warm hug on a cold night, the kind of spot that makes you want to linger. A few regulars are seated at the tables, chatting and laughing softly, but the bar area is empty. 

You slide onto one of the stools, the firm surface is comforting  after a long day on your feet. The sound of the door closing behind you barely registers as you glance at the drink menu scrawled in cheerful chalk on a hanging board. 

The holiday specials catch your eye—mulled wine, spiced rum, hot chocolate, and something called the “Bear’s Winter Hug.” But there’s no bartender in sight. You wait for a moment, scanning the room. The low hum of conversation fills the background, but the bar itself is oddly quiet.

All you hear are the muffled shuffle of feet, accompanied by the sound of clinking glasses. Just as you consider calling out, a sharp voice cuts through the room. 

“Allister! Quit daydreaming and get to work already!” 

A tall, green gator shuffles out from the back, his posture is low, his eyes half-lidded. He scratches his head as he ambles over to the bar, his slouch making him seem even more laid-back than usual.

“Oh. Hey.  Think I recognize you. You’re one of Picky’s other friends, right?” He gives you a lazy grin, leaning against the counter.  “Didn’t notice you walk in... Guess you’re in the right place for a drink, huh?”

He grabs a towel and starts wiping the already-clean bar top, a halfhearted effort that makes you smirk. You ask what he recommends.

Allister glances over his shoulder at the shelves lined with bottles, barely bothering to focus. 

“Well, if you want my professional opinion—which I’m guessing you do—I’d go with the Winter Hug. Ms. Bearhug says it’s ‘hearty and festive,’ which I think just means it’s got enough kick to keep you warm all night.” He smirks.

“But if you’re not feeling adventurous, we’ve got plenty of plain ol’ whiskey. Your call.” The laid-back charm is hard to resist, and you laugh as you make your choice.

As Allister begins to mix your drink with a casual ease, you glance around the room.  So is this place a bakery? And a bar? Not exactly a usual combo.

Allister snorts, pausing mid-pour. “Oh, it’s all Ms. Bearhug's brainchild. She inherited this place from her family. It used to just be a bakery, but she wanted to mix things up—literally. She figured drinks would bring in the evening crowd, and honestly? She wasn’t wrong.” He shrugs, his grin widening. 

“Though between you and me, I think she just likes bossing me around.” 

He finishes the drink and slides it over to you with an impressive spin.  “And before you ask—yes, I do all the drink stuff, and she handles the baking. Not a bad setup, really. I get to stay out of the kitchen, and she doesn’t yell at me as much.” 

Just then, the door to the back swings open again, and Bobby Bearhug steps into view. Her red fur is dusted with flour, and she looks every bit the part of a baker who’s been up since dawn. Despite her exhaustion, there’s a sharpness in her eyes that makes it clear she’s paying attention to everything. 

“Allister, if you’re going to waste time, at least make sure our guest has everything they need. Are you good over here?” she asks, looking at you with a warm yet slightly pensive smile.  You nod, Allister is doing a great job.  Bobby raises an eyebrow at him, clearly skeptical. 

“Well, that’s good to know. Let me know if he starts slacking.” Allister chuckles, unbothered. “Slacking? Me? Never.”

As the night goes on, the bar fills with a soft buzz of conversation and laughter. Allister tells you stories about some of the more eccentric regulars, his jokes making even the boring parts of life sound entertaining. Bobby pops in and out, delivering trays of her famous bear claw pastries and checking on everyone, her presence adding a warmth to the room that goes beyond the fire crackling in the corner. 

At one point, Allister leans back against the counter, eyeing the dwindling crowd. “You know,” he says, “Bobby acts like she’s all business, but this place? It’s her heart. She loves seeing people come together here. I think she loves it more than sleep.”

Bobby overhears and smacks him lightly with a towel as she passes. “Stop telling critters my secrets, Allister. And refill their drink while you’re at it!”

As Bobby returns to the kitchen, Allister grins with a casual shrug. “See what I have to deal with?”

[feroluce]

So I went to the wiki page for the henghill Bullet & Brain mission of 2.2 looking for some dialogue I had missed and

a) I found something incredibly tasty that slotted into some other thoughts I'd been having, more on that on another day, and

b) I saw this super fun little trivia at the bottom, which!

I knew Penacony characters like Boothill took a lot of inspirations from old movies, but I didn't realize it was even in his and Dan Heng's relationship, that's so cool!!

It fits them very well, it's such a fun reference. "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" was an old buddy Western film (from 1969- nice) about a pair of outlaws. Butch Cassidy was the leader of a gang, and described as clever, affable, and talkative. Meanwhile, his closest companion, the Sundance Kid, was known as a man of few words.

Cassidy's original birth name was much more plain, but similar to Boothill, he took on a new moniker when he became an outlaw. "Cassidy" had been the last name of his beloved mentor, who taught him how to shoot and ride. And Sundance Kid was known as he was because Sundance was the name of his hometown, and it was the only place that had ever managed to catch and jail him, back when he'd been younger (also similar to Dan Heng, but ouch).

These two stick together like glue throughout the length of the film- through Cassidy's leadership of the gang being challenged, through a train robbery gone wrong, through being pursued by mercenaries, and even through fleeing to Bolivia and trying to start over together.

I don't want to say too much more, since the mission title is referencing one specific movie that I've never seen. I kinda wanna watch it now, though, just to see the inspiration that went into Boothill and Dan Heng and how they get along. I just think it's really sweet that these two were literally made to be the best of bros, how lovely is that. 💕

[eldritchlittleblackdragon]

I've been listening to a podcast version of a video game lore channel on youtube (that happens to also release their stuff as a podcast on spotify) and I happen to listen to their retelling of the lore and events of the dishonored series. I remembered how cool + interesting the series is... and also that Corvo Attano (protag of the first game) is very handsome.

[lesbiansanemi]

In a turn of shocking events absolutely stunning no one more than myself, I might actually enjoy cooking and not only that, be good at it

[zincbot]

i finally did it... 100% achievements on Hyper Light Drifter!

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you 🖤’

[zhongrin]

honey, can you… oh shit wait i forgot we’re not dating (yet)

© zhongrin | 2024 ✼  [✘] no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. [✓] rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, fluff, non-established relationship, potential secondhand embarrassment, boyfailure neuvillette (/aff)

✼ a/n ┈ zhongrin uploaded 3 weeks in a row?! madness!!! utter madness!!!! /silly i feel like i've been writing too much cutesy/sfw stuff lately.... i want to write 'darker' types of stuff but my brain doesn't seem to want to cooperate ugh pain

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

zhongli watches your reaction closely, at first.

when he deduces that you were self-aware of your own oversight and are evidently panicking about it, he gives you a warm chuckle and shakes his head gently, “there is no need to apologize, and please do not feel mortified in any way. it really is fine.”

if you continue to not believe him, the ex-archon will be as patient as ever with his words of reassurances, and he does not mind repeating them until you feel comfortable enough to ask him the real errand that you wished to bestow upon him.

... but not before he gently places a hand to the small of your back to lead you to walk a little closer to him due to the increasing crowd on the streets, his voice a tender caress to your ear, “coming from you, i certainly did not mind the nickname.”

al haitham raises his eyebrows and shuts his book, “what a fascinating blunder. is that how you view our relationship subconsciously? or perhaps it’s an innate desire you’ve chosen to suppress but accidentally slipped out in a moment of unawareness?”

the scholar has the decency to wait for your answer betwixt your embarrassment, but he eventually sighs when you failed to form a coherent answer that satisfied his inquiries.

“you seem to have the impression that i am displeased at your err. i’d like to inform you that your assumption is yet another mistake - which, i would theorize, was made in the rush of the moment as your nervous system kicks into gear, therefore clouding your judgement. i would suggest you take a few moments to reanalyze my stance based on this new information. i’ll wait.”

and with that, he opens his book once more.

.... um.

congratulations, i guess?

wriothesley takes the opportunity and replies with a cheeky, “yes, honey? what can i do for you, sweetheart?”

he relishes in the utter embarrassment that quickly spread across your face that’s akin to water faced with his cryo elemental energy (though secretly he’s also dying inside at the cheesiness of the situation) and throws you a boyish grin before ruffling your hair.

not a man to let an opportunity escape, the duke decides to leverage the moment to take his metaphorical shot and goes immediately for a straight jab, like an experienced boxer that he is, all the while praying to the hydro archon so that this would be yet another match he could flawlessly win, “you know, my schedule’s particularly relaxed today… i wouldn’t mind staying longer if you want to make it a date?”

neuvillette blinks owlishly, his pale cheeks blooming with warmth as the situation starts to sink in. you, the apple of his eye, whom he treasured dearly and had taken great care to court, had just called him with a term of endearment that he had always dreamed of hearing.

wait, was this a dream? his gloved hands quickly found purchase on his blue horns, before he brought his hands in front of his eyes. okay, he had two horns and ten fingers, still. so he must not have daydreamed this. ah- wait, you’re staring at him. oh, now you’re giggling. and now you’re calling him silly. oh, it should be a crime to be so breathtakingー

it’s not until your expression changed into surprise that he realized he had said that thought outloud.

your teasing “if it’s a crime, are you going to put me on trial, monsieur?” elicits a darker blush on his pale cheeks and an awkward cough out of him.

.... this must be how the young ones flirt nowadays.

“perhaps after a proper date? if it’s not impertinent of me, may i be allowed to take you out on dinner tonight?”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer

[little-diable]

Lightning - Tyler Owens (smut)

I mean, we all knew this would happen. I haven’t seen the movie yet, but I am DESPERATE for him. And as somebody who actually has something to do with studying tornadoes, I had to write this. I am obsessed with this fic, but I doubt this will get much attention, so please actually reblog it if you enjoyed reading it! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler and the reader are chasing tornadoes together, but when they have to step back and find shelter, things quickly change between them.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, handjob, kinda enemies to lovers, teasing and all that fun stuff

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3k words)

Wind was blowing in her face, letting her strands dance in the air while her eyes flickered between her laptop screen and the dark sky. She was surrounded by her team, trying to ignore their shouts as they decided which direction to head in. (Y/n) was torn between too many options, not liking the way this afternoon was playing out. 

It was do or die, miss or hit one of the biggest tornadoes they had come across in a while. And yet the second cell that was currently forming gave off a somewhat more promising chance of catching enough data this time around. 

“Which way will it be, lightning?” Her breath hitched in her chest as he mumbled the words, front pressed against her back. The hairs on her arms began to rise, fully focused on his closeness, allowing her to pick up on the scent of his familiar cologne, on the way his breath fanned over the back of her neck as if he was about to kiss that very spot.

“Am I dreaming? Is Tyler Owens asking for my opinion?” She slowly turned towards the handsome man. Her eyes instantly found his piercing ones, getting lost in their intense gaze while he shot her one of his signature smirks. Fuck, if he weren’t such an asshole most of the time, she would easily give in to the pull she felt, allowing him to tug her towards his bed without having to fear about the aftermath. But if there was one thing (y/n) was sure of, it was that Tyler Owens was all about playing games, toying with a woman until he eventually grew bored. He was a personification of a thunderstorm, fast moving and never ready to settle.

“Don’t let it get to your head, pretty.” She clicked her tongue with a displeased expression tugging on her features. There was no time left to study him, to curse whoever had created him for making him look this handsome. They had to stay focused, at least until she got the data she needed for her project. 

“Alright, we’re heading east.” (Y/n) closed her laptop before reaching for her bag–the bag that was snatched from her grasp before she could protest. Tyler had slung it over his shoulder while tilting his head towards his truck, silently asking her to ride with him. 

On any other occasion she would have cursed him, would have told him to fuck off. But today, while being heavily understaffed, she needed any help she could get. And knowing that Tyler drove like the devil himself, she knew she had the best chance of arriving just in time with him by her side. 

His smirk grew wider the second she gave in, begrudgingly following Tyler while her eyes found the confused ones of her teammates. She only rolled her eyes at them, raising her shoulders and dropping them again as if she was wordlessly telling them that she was just as confused as they were, not seeing through Tyler’s game just yet. 

Silence filled the truck, only a few commands left (y/n) whenever they needed to make a turn, chasing down the roads to catch up with the growing cell. All while the others followed behind them, too slow to catch up with Tyler’s truck. Her heart was pounding in her chest, riled up by the anticipation of chasing another storm – no matter how many times she had done this before, (y/n) would never get used to the thrill, the moments leading up to seeing yet another beautiful though terrifying tornado. 

“You alright, pretty?” She’d never get used to the way Tyler called her, dripping with that drawl she loved more than she’d ever admit. (Y/n) didn’t look at him, fully focused on her laptop to monitor the path their tornado took. No word left her pressed together lips, trying to drown out the feeling of his concerned eyes flickering towards her every few seconds. 

“(Y/n)?” The use of her name ripped (y/n) out of her trance, letting her wide pupils find his. She only nodded at Tyler, knowing she couldn’t waste any time on the crush she could never speak of, preferring to take her secret to the grave rather than feeding his ego–only to end up with a broken heart in the process. 

“Guys, can you hear me?” She held the radio close, speaking to the others while refocusing on the map. All they could hear was rustling, unable to pick up on the reply that was spoken on the other end. Curses clawed through (y/n), she tried to reach their teams again, while swallowing the sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. No longer could she see them in the rearview mirror, telling her that they hadn’t made it down the narrow path Tyler had taken.

The road ahead was muddy, forcing the truck to slither along while Tyler tried to avoid holes and ditches. With one hand clutching the door, (y/n) tried to hold still, not daring to bump into Tyler whose angry cusses filled the truck. Both had their eyes focused ahead, knowing that this had been the wrong choice, the wrong tornado to chase. They were heading straight towards their death if they kept going that way, knowing that without their team by their side, they wouldn’t be able to collect enough data anyway. 

“I hate being the one to say it, but we gotta find shelter, lightning.” Tyler’s annoyed groans left her nodding, giving him the green light to take a sharp left to turn towards the town close by. With the slimmest chance to find proper shelter, Tyler kept speeding along, seemingly having a spot in mind. (Y/n) was angry, at herself, at the road conditions, knowing that this situation should have played out much differently. And all she could do was trust the man she had always tried to hate.

“Come, follow me.” The truck was forced to a sudden halt. (Y/n) followed Tyler outside, holding onto her things while he reached for her free hand to pull her along. He guided her towards what appeared to be a barn, a building she paid no attention to as she studied the tornado, getting lost in its beauty for a second. “They built an underground shelter here a few years back, if we’re lucky nobody else had the time to find it.”

Tyler pushed her into the unlocked barn, letting the doors slide close again before he led her down some stairs. She didn’t dare speak, torn between too many emotions. All (y/n) could do was let go of a sigh while being ushered into the empty, dark shelter. It took her a while to adjust to the darkness, letting her hands move along the metallic wall until she found what appeared to be a light switch. She gave it a try, though without any luck, letting herself drop to the ground while Tyler stayed glued to his spot. 

If both hadn’t been too deep in thought, they would have realised that this was the first time they were sheltering together, completely alone without any nosy eyes watching them or listening to their talks. 

“We should have gone west, I’m sorry.” Her whispers filled the small shelter, luring Tyler closer who plopped down next to her. He fumbled with his phone to turn on the fleshlight, letting it rest on the ground to alight their surroundings. A few boxes were placed against the wall, filled with water and some snacks they hopefully wouldn’t have to use, praying that they’d get out of here fast enough to chase their luck once again. 

“There’s always time for another try, pretty.” Tyler reached for her hand to squeeze it before he could stop himself, forcing her eyes to focus on the spot where she now felt a buzzing sensation. She let her head roll towards Tyler, studying the white hat he took off with his free hand, placing it down on the ground, only to comb through his hair. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without that thing on.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him chuckling, a sound that momentarily managed to drown out the roar of the tornado. The howling was an almost comforting sound to them, after years of chasing them, well aware of every little detail. 

“Well, you’re one of the few who gets the honour, appreciate it.” She rolled her eyes at him before ripping her gaze off of him. Heat flushed through her at his teasing, a heat that only grew more biting as she realised that they were still holding hands. Her tongue moved along her dry lips, trying to find the right words to break their silence, silently hoping that she could cherish every single second of their time together. As much as she had once sworn to hate him while burying her crush deep inside of herself, she had lost all strength to fight against it, at least for now.

“Why have we never done this before?” Tyler seemed to feel the same longing, drawing her focus back towards him with his question. His eyes had an even more piercing touch to them now, having an invisible tight grasp on her soul she didn’t want to escape from. 

“Because you’re an asshole most of the time and I can’t stand being around you for long.” (Y/n)’s sharp reply left him laughing, a loud sound that had an addicting effect on her, leaving her chuckling while shaking her head at the man. 

“You wound me, lightning. Here I was hoping you’d finally let me take you out on a date, once this day’s over.” No longer did she laugh, the sound was stuck in her throat all too suddenly.

Did he truly mean it? Was he planning on asking her out? Or was Tyler playing yet another game with her? 

“Don’t fuck with me, Owens.” His hand darted out to grasp her chin, forcing her to keep her focus on him before she could even try to turn away from him. For just a second, she watched his gaze flicker between her eyes and her slightly parted lips. Once again her heart was back to racing, no longer focused on the howling wind, the sounds of things crashing outside, but fully and solemnly focused on Tyler. 

“Are you scared of this thing between us?” Once again, his question managed to rob her of the air filling her lungs, not expecting him to be this direct with her. A part of (y/n) begged her to cuss him out, to make fun of the question, to escape the avalanche that was about to roll upon them, but the bigger - more desperate - part of her, managed to gain the upper hand, leading her straight towards danger.

“Well, even though you enjoy riding your fears, I prefer to face ‘em. I’m not scared, not of this, whatever this is. But I’m fucking terrified of you toying with me and dropping me the second I’m no longer interesting enough.” He let go of her, only to pull her into his lap, making her straddle his stretched out legs. They held eye contact, wordlessly daring one another to move first, to give in to the pull that was as strong as an F5 they’d happily chase on any other day. 

“I’d be fucking stupid to mess it up with you.” She felt his breath on her lips, ghosting over her soft skin like he was giving her one last chance to pull away. A chance she wouldn’t take, letting it pass while finding his lips for a soft kiss that escalated within seconds. With his hand pressed to the back of her head and his other placed on her waist, Tyler held her to him while deepening the kiss.

Their tongues fought for victory, knowing that neither of them would back down from a fight against the other, urged on by their need to gain the upper hand. Soft groans and moans left them while their bodies searched one another’s closeness, knowing that this was something they wouldn’t tell others about, preferring to keep this as their secret. 

Her hands roamed his clothed chest, feeling his muscles beneath her wandering fingers while finding her way to his belt. She toyed with the buckle for a moment while her lips were still glued to his, knowing they’d have to part any moment now to inhale some much needed breaths of air. 

“You sure you want to do this in here, lightning?” His chuckles left her grinning, while holding onto the question she had wanted to ask for a while now. 

“Why lightning?” A kiss was shared between them, much softer than the one before. Her hand was still toying with his belt, slowly undoing the buckle to wordlessly tell him she wanted this much as he did, even though they knew that it was stupid and selfish of them to hide out here while their teams were undoubtedly worrying about them. 

“Well, the first time I saw you, you struck me like lightning, brightening my darkest day.” The explanation was cheesy, and yet it still drew heat up her neck. She could only swallow, smile at him and refocus on her hands. Tyler let her move, freeing his hardening cock while his impatient hands tugged on the buttons of her blouse, letting it pop open to expose her bra-clad chest. 

“Fuck, you’re a dream.” Her eyes flickered up to his while she spat into her palm, using her saliva to lube him up. Tyler couldn’t stop his moans from clawing through him, fully focused on the way he perfectly fit into her hand, pressed against the soft skin he wanted to feel against every inch of his body. His head rolled back against the wall, eyes closed and lips parted – offering a sight that made her walls clench around nothing, proud for being the one to make him feel like that. 

Her hand added more speed to its movements, squeezing him with just enough pressure to draw another raspy moan from Tyler. He allowed himself to relish in her touch for another moment before he gently though urgently grasped her wrist to stop her from moving. 

“Will you ride me, lightning?” His accent grew thicker with every syllable, leaving her shuddering while only a soft chuckle managed to leave her. She rose to her feet to shuffle out of her jeans, keeping her eyes focused on Tyler who marvelled at her as if she was the strongest tornado he had ever been fortunate enough to see, fully mesmerised by everything about her. She kept her panties on while finding her way back to his lap, knowing that they needed to hit the road soon, not giving them a chance to do this properly. 

“Wait, here.” He reached for his back pocket to pull a condom out of his wallet, letting her rip it open to roll it down his aching cock. Both their hearts were beating in sync, knowing that they were finally about to do something they had been desperate for ever since running into one another for the first time. No matter how much anger and hatred had once grown between them, it was now turning them from opponents to lovers–or whatever it was both were trying to adjust to. 

Tyler held onto her as she sank down on him, letting her forehead fall against his shoulder for a second. No words were spoken while they had to adjust, overwhelmed by the new sensation and the whirlwind of emotions buzzing through them like a storm hitting them both. With her hands holding onto him, clinging to the fabric of the shirt he wore, she began to move, fucking herself on his twitching cock with such a passion, Tyler feared he may never want to get out of this shelter again. 

“Tyler,” his name left her, a breathy whisper he almost missed, too far gone to focus on anything but their closeness. He palmed her ass, letting his fingertips dig into her skin to leave marks that would remind her of this very moment for days to come. His hips met hers, jerking upwards to make his cock disappear inside of her even deeper, drawing desperate moans from them which dripped with a need for more. 

“Attagirl, look at you, fucking yourself on my cock like you were born for this.” She moaned at his words, knowing that her thighs would start aching soon enough, begging for a new position to give herself the needed push to fall over the edge. “What? You’re already getting tired? I should have fucked you in my truck, make you scream my name while the world’s ending around us.” 

He pushed her off of him without a warning, leaving her dazed and confused for a second while watching him rise to his feet. With a hand stretched out for (y/n) to take, he pulled her up towards him–only to pick her up and press her against the wall. His cock was pushed back into her, stretching her walls while he fucked her with a fast pace that made both of them see stars. 

(Y/n) clawed at his neck, needing to hold onto him while he fucked her closer and closer to the edge. A cocky grin widened on his lips as he felt her walls tightening their grip on his cock. She was close, would let go soon with his name burning on the tip of her tongue, a perfect reminder that she was his from today on, glued to the man who she had once sworn to hate. 

“Scream my name, lightning, show them what a real thunderstorm sounds like.” If he weren’t buried deep inside of her, she would have rolled her eyes at him. But (y/n) was too far gone to care about his cheesy teasing, solemnly focused on her arising high and the name rolling off her tongue like a prayer.

And then she came, pushed into an orgasm so strong, (y/n) feared she’d never experience something like this again. It buzzed through every part of her body, stealing her breath as if she was drowning, forcing her heart to skip beats as if she was chased by someone or rather something. Tyler kept fucking her against the wall, urged on by her moans, the sounds he’d never forget again. 

Pants kept leaving him while chasing his own high, letting his skin meet hers with every ferocious thrust. And with one last “Fuck” Tyler came, relieving himself into the condom as his smirk returned to his lips. Both were heavily breathing, clinging to the other while coming down from their highs.

“I don’t know if I can walk back to the truck.” Carefully, he placed (y/n) back down on her feet, shaking his head at her with a soft smile thrown her way. Tyler pressed another kiss to her slightly swollen lips before both redressed, knowing that they had to get out of here and back to their team as fast as possible. 

“You know I’ll gladly carry you, lightning. I always will, if you let me.”

[tojicide]

OBSESSED. ☆ SYLUS QIN.

📰 extra, extra! why is your bodyguard so obsessed with you? girl, you wanna know...

warnings. fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! sylus, established romantic history ( very brief ), pet names, semi-public, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v. wc. 4.6k.

an. reused the header and a bit of the plot from an aaron hotchner fanfic i wrote on wattpad in like… 2021??? tweaked most of the details obvs but ig i was born as a bodyguard au lover

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Your bodyguard was such a buzzkill.

Dragging you out of every party you make an appearance at, replacing your shots with water once he believes you’ve had one too many, watching you like a hawk no matter where you are or who you’re with...

You despise those who have an inability to have fun, so as far as you’re concerned, Sylus is the devil reincarnated. You aren’t exactly shy about your opinion of him either, and perhaps in hindsight, that is exactly why he was currently pacing through the party you’re in attendance of to try and ruin your night yet again.

(Ruin your night or… do his job? Hell if you care about the logistics of it all. Two sides of the same coin, you think.)

His protective instinct only grew more intense ever since the two of you shared a kiss before a concert of yours that left your lipstick smeared over your face like there was no tomorrow…

And what did that asshole do? Nothing. It was in his nature to make your life miserable after all. Sylus let you walk out in front of your thousands of fans, makeup messy and appearance disheveled all from his mouth on yours alone.

And boy, did the tabloids have a time with that one… Who was the culprit? A new fling of yours? Fiancé? Possible baby daddy? Each and every news outlet had some uniquely wrong to say. Can’t a girl have a makeout session with her bodyguard in peace?

Unfortunately for you, the paparazzi have been hounding you ever since that day, itching to get the 4-1-1 on your love life.

And ever since, you haven’t given many people the time of day—including Sylus. Tonight, you’ve managed to stay two steps ahead of your dear bodyguard and evade eventual capture for just a bit longer. You’re currently surrounded by a few of your friends, socialites and actors alike.

Your lips seem to flap freely when you have a few drinks in you, but tonight, you’re sober but even more talkative than ever. Your chosen topic of conversation? Your overbearing and stupidly handsome bodyguard, of course.

Too lost in your story, waving your arms around to your theatrical pleasure, you hardly noticed the way your friends’ faces paled to a ghostly shade of white, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads and their lips parted as if they had something to say but… couldn’t.

All the while, you were too busy blowing off the  steam that you’d acquired from your last encounter with the forsaken bodyguard. “…And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

As fate would have it, you hear a throat clear behind you followed by an annoyed sigh that you’ve grown to know like the back of your hand. You spin around, already wearing a scowl.

“Obsessed with you, hm?” Sylus says, his voice low and seemingly dangerous, though your utter distaste for the man rids him of his intimidation. “You’re quite self important. I could never live in a world where I’d fall at the feet of an egotistical popstar.”

You roll your eyes at that. Who does he think he is? Everyone loves you—all except for the disgustingly handsome man standing in front of you.

“Mm… well, you can always die an untimely death and never have to work for me again,” you reply, giving him the most passive aggressive smile known to man. “Hopefully that gives you an ounce of hope.”

“It does,” he replies, returning the same expression that you gave him.

It’s borderline infuriating how undisturbed Sylus was. No, it is infuriating. No matter how many insults you chucked his way, he never cracked. (And the one time he did, it led to the two of you playing tonsil tennis in your dressing room...)

You shake your head, huffing in utter annoyance. You then hold your wrists up for display, cocking your head to the side as you give him a mock puppy dog expression. “Sooo… are you here to take me away, Officer Buzzkill?”

Sylus merely blinks in response to your taunting, taking a firm grasp on one of your wrists before he tugs you through the sea of partygoers. He laces your fingers together, squeezing tight as to not lose hold of you.

“Must you always make things so difficult?” he asks, keeping his eyes ahead.

You shrug your shoulders. “More or less.”

“More or less?” he echoes, glancing over his shoulder to properly look at you. “I suggest you try a different style of communication, sweetness. Your clipped attitude will get you nowhere.”

“Oh? But it’s gotten me so far already…” you trail off, glancing at his lips for a few agonizingly long seconds before a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth. “In fact, I think it can get me even further.”

Sylus’s jaw tenses, his eyes slipping shut as he tears his gaze away from you. He can’t handle the way you’re looking at him—so unbelievably beautiful with those siren eyes of yours, the mere sight of you already stirring something unwanted within him.

He turns around to continue leading you through the crowd without a reply. You begin to glance around yourself, attempting to plot your brilliant escape.

“Don’t,” he flatly states, his iron grip tightening on your hand.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a strong tone of defiance.

Sylus gives your hand one solid tug before you’re standing in front of him, his free hand pressing onto the small of your back as he keeps you pressed to his chest. “If you haven’t noticed, you brat, I will always chase you. I’ll find you just the same.”

You almost deflate under his intense gaze, his deep red eyes piercing through your own. It wasn’t often that Sylus manhandled you, but when he did, it made you feel… different. Intrigued, maybe.

“How touching,” you deadpan, “but you still get on my nerves.”

Sylus clicks his tongue. “Tch. Oh, I’m sorry… when have I ever cared about what you think?”

“Never,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know… if you hate me so much, you should just quit on me.”

Sylus rolls his eyes, his red irises drawing you in like no other. “I don’t… hate you. You should be rather thankful that I don’t, because I’m doubtful that anyone else would want this job of mine—you’re quite the handful.”

“Mm, I’m only saying,” you murmur with a shrug, giving his hand a harsh squeeze as if the roughness of your grasp would make him let go, but he, of course, does not. “You don’t need this job, and yet, here you are.”

He raises a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

You smile, the same shit-eating grin that he has grown to be all too familiar with. “Give me your wallet.”

Sylus huffs, his broad shoulders deflating as he fishes his black leather wallet from his back pocket and hands it over to you. You take it with ease, taking your hand from his as you crack it open.

You slip his Black Card from the sleeve, proving that he truly didn’t need the job for any monetary gain. And then, a triumphant smile graces your lips as you pull out none other than a Polaroid photo taken of you—backstage at your concert just before the kiss you two shared.

“Ooh… what’s this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

Sylus reaches forward to try and snatch the tiny photo from you, but you are far too quick. “What are you revealing exactly? That you were secretly snooping in my wallet prior to now?”

“Yes,” you admit without hesitation, “and that you’re secretly rich and in love with me. Does that make us even?”

His jaw sets, his piercing gaze set on yours. He works to snatch the photo from you, tucking his belongings back into his wallet before he slips it into his pocket. “No. Maybe if you were less of a pain, we could be even.”

You wiggle your eyebrows in suggestion. “You’re not denying being in love with me, dear bodyguard of mine.”

Sylus gives you a deadpan expression. “Must you always be so self righteous? God forbid I am proud of you and your success.”

The genuine nature of his words set you back a step, your brows knitting together and your lips parting. If Sylus noticed the shift of your expression, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully. His cold fingers lace with yours once more, continuing the stride towards the exit of the party.

“Rather than putting on this show of yours, you truly should be thanking me for saving your reputation,” he quietly adds, his hand now curled around your waist as you approach the exit. “There is a swarm of paparazzi outside who are desperate to get their grimy hands on a picture of their beloved popstar doing something remotely scandalous.”

(And if Sylus knows anything about you, it’s that you love scandals. According to you, they ‘make life worth living’. Tch. Diva.)

You chuckle. “Aww, you care!”

“Do I care, or is it my job to look after you?” he asks, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket to place them on your face, shielding your eyes from the rapid camera flashes of the paparazzi. “Public intoxication numerous times a week is not a very good look for you, sweetie. Incredibly frowned upon.”

Your jaw sets as you listen to his words. While they are undeniably true, you don’t have any plans for admitting that—not now or in the near future.

“Making out with my bodyguard is frowned upon as well, but you didn’t seem to be complaining about that bit,” you say under your breath.

Your voice was low enough that your weighted words were almost drowned out by the booming music of the party and by the chatter of the photographers you’re about to be engulfed in. Almost. 

Sylus flashes you a glare. “You shouldn’t mumble. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“You heard me,” you state.

He did hear you, that was exactly the problem. It was no coincidence that the two of you haven’t spoken much since your very intense lip lock. You’ve been avoiding each other, evading the invisible string that connects the two of you like both an electric current and a noose.

The tension between the two of you was tangible, palpable even—you could practically taste it just as well as you could still taste his lips on your own. It was intoxicating, imprinting, searing.

It managed to distract you from the flashing lights of the cameramen who were swarming you, capturing flick after flick of you being led through the crowd.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “You know, you can help me out with all of this,” you murmur, gesturing towards the paparazzi. “My publicist came up with an idea that will get them off my back for a while. Give them the answers they need and… whatnot.”

“Is that right?” he asks, glancing your way. “Do tell.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, tuning out all of the chattering paparazzi who are currently surrounding you. “Be my impromptu mystery man for the cameras. I’ll give you anything you want in return, I swear it.”

Sylus hums, the sound omitting a deep rumble into the air. “Anything I want? My, my, sweets, you’ve made me an offer I cannot refuse.”

You huff, grasping onto the collar of his jacket as you pull him into you. “Just go with it.”

“Just go with wh— mmph!” Sylus’s words were muffled by your lips slotting against his in a searing kiss, his hands instinctively finding their home on the curve of your hips.

The kiss was… tame. It was supposed to be, after all. It was merely for the cameras, a way for you to put an answer to the questions that have been flooding your inbox and left your name circulating in the news for days on end.

But when Sylus’s tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you slightly pull away, muttering a faint, “Sylus, what’re you…” before he pulls you right back in, his large hand now resting on your cheek.

“If you’re going to use me like a whore at your disposal, I’d suggest you let me enjoy myself and taste you properly,” he sporadically says into your mouth, his hand shifting to tangle in your hair as he tilts you to his liking, your tongues meeting in with gentle swipes. “See? I knew you could do better than that.”

True to his suggestion, you kissed him like there was no tomorrow, your hands fisting his shirt in your palms as your lips moved in tandem with his. Lipstick and paparazzi long forgotten, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands give your hips a firm squeeze.

The moment he hears that sweet, impossibly faint sound of your pleasure, he knows that he’s in for it now. That’ll do it for him.

He abruptly pulls away, clasping his hand onto yours as he continues pulling you through the now stunned crowd of paparazzi. Sporting an erection and your lipstick smeared on his lips makes no difference to Sylus—if anything, he enjoys the world knowing that he has the hots for the woman who he has sworn to protect.

Sylus helps you into the passenger seat of your black SUV, closing the door behind you before making his way to the driver’s seat. He peels off, driving with intention through the streets of the city.

It was now evident to you that he was driving the SUV in pursuit of his favorite lookout spot, one that overlooks the bustling city from a distance. Sylus had taken you there once before as per your request to ‘stay out a bit later’. Nothing happened then, but you have an inclination that your luck has changed.

“I know what I want from you,” he states, placing a hand on your thigh.

How did he already manage to figure out what he wants in return for helping you? A raise? A car? The blood of his enemies? You’re intrigued, raising a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” he confirms without missing a beat. “Get into the backseat.”

A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips as you mull over the utter implications of his words. It didn’t take a genius to understand them, but you were… surprised to say the least. “I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, Mr. Qin.”

In a literal sense, sure he was. But if the two of you were going to judge based on what you two want, he absolutely wasn’t—you both knew that.

He chuckles, the sound low yet infuriatingly sexy. His hand slips beneath your skirt, his middle finger brushing along the damp spot of your panties. “Your body seems to disagree with you, ma’am.”

And if you weren’t already wet before, hearing him call you ma’am was more than enough to do it for you. “Shut up,” you grumble.

“You can make me,” he suggests, setting the vehicle into park before giving your thigh a few pats. He nods his head towards the backseat. “Go on.”

Without hesitation, you kick your heels off and crawl into the back of the vehicle, thumping down on the seat with a sharp sigh. Sylus follows you within the blink of an eye, his knees settling on the spacious floor of the car.

“What’re you…” you ask, though your eyebrows raise as the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he repeats, his warm hands rubbing your knees as he spreads your legs apart, his lips finding the tender skin of your inner thigh. “You know… you truly should be resting for your show tomorrow evening.”

“Should I?” You bite on your bottom lip as he leans forward, nosing at your clothed pussy with a muffled moan of his own. He inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal driving him to the brink of insanity.

“You should,” he answers, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. “You should stop talking too. You need to rest your voice just as much.”

You swallow hard, whimpering ever so softly as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs to give himself access to your glistening core.

His eyes are set on your heat, his cool hands hiking your thighs over his shoulders. He rests his cheek on the warmth of your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “Because believe me, sweetie, the things that I want to do to you will not be in favor of that beautiful voice of yours.”

“Oh?” you ask, titling your head. “What will they be in favor of?”

He grins, wicked and devilishly handsome. “I’m glad you asked, because there’s someone else I’ve been wanting to hear from.”

Before you have the chance to reply, he’s already got his face delving deep between your legs, the filthy sounds of squelches and slurping filling the otherwise silent car.

“Oh, I— mmh, you didn’t answer my… my question,” you stammer out between breathy moans, your head tilting back on the headrest as your eyes flutter shut.

Sylus smiles into your pussy, pointing his tongue to accentuate the squelching noises that your heat was making, entirely wet and dripping for him.

“Can you not hear her?”

Never in your life did you think that having a man on his knees talking to your cunt would be this arousing, but… you’re fucking soaked.

“I-I can,” you gasp, cracking your eyes open to look down at him. “Fuck, you can talk to her in fifty languages for all I care, holy shit.”

He quietly chuckles, the sound sending a spark of vibrations onto your already sensitive clit. Your thighs tense, aching to close on him, but he keeps them spread with his strong hands on your thighs.

Your lips part as a string of breathy sounds leave you, beautiful moans and needy whimpers alike—all of which play as music to Sylus’s ears. It was nice to know that your mouth was good for more than just singing and bickering at him…

Teeth nibbling into your bottom lip, you glance down at him, only to be met with the most crazed eyes known to mankind. So disheveled, your slick leaking down his chin while his tongue delves into your heat like a man starved. He looks like he’s in his own pussy drunk heaven.

When you feel his pointed tongue begin to curve and lick in ways it hadn’t before, you do your best to follow his movements.

S-Y-L-U-S he spells on your puffy cunt with his writing tool of choice—none other than his stupidly talented tongue.

“You’re so—”

“Shh,” he cuts you off, his voice more like a husky whisper now. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, sucking on your clit before releasing it with a harsh pop.

Filthy sounds fill the air, your own breathy moans spilling from your swollen lips in tandem with the messy sucks of Sylus’s lips on your cunt. Not to mention, your girl truly was loud.

“Singing so beautifully for me,” he rasps, his eyes flitting up to watch your blissful expression. Lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed skin—an absolute wet dream of his come to life.

You bite your lip, hardly focused on the words coming out of his mouth. “Mmh, what…?”

“Quiet, sweets,” he repeats, hooking his hands even tighter around your thighs as he gives your heat a few more harsh licks. “I told you I was talking to her, didn’t I?”

It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, your core grinding against his wet muscle as you chase your release.

Sylus was more than eager to give it to you, redoubling his efforts while locking his hands over your legs to keep you steady enough for him to pleasure you effectively. The warmth pooling in your belly was far too much, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.

“Mmh, I… I’m coming,” you warn through an airy whine.

And when you do, Sylus swoops in even more greedily than before, his flat tongue lapping at your honeyed release. There was no way he would ever be able to go without tasting you like this now that he has. Fuck, he’s such a goner.

As you come down from your high, you grin with a few pants. “Look at you, falling at the feet of your ‘egotistical popstar’—mmph!”

Sylus plunges two fingers into your mouth to shut you up, rising to plant himself onto the seat beside you. “That’s hardly an insult to me anymore, my dear. I know what I am.”

He pulls his spit slick fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy as he gently circles your sensitive clit. His free hand guides you through the motion of straddling his lap. With a simple nod of his head, he gestures for you to lift your shirt up, and you do.

“And what’s that?” you ask, watching as he leans forward to mouth at your breasts through the fabric of your bra.

“I’ve already told you,” he murmurs, bringing his free hand to his belt to free his cock from the confines of his pants. “A whore at your disposal.”

“I knew it,” you chuckle, though the sweet sound is interrupted by a breathy moan that he coaxes out of you once he slides his fat cockhead along your folds.

He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side. “Are you not going to reciprocate my affection?” he teases, grasping tightly onto your hips. “Or do I have to work a bit harder for it, ma’am?”

Your knees would have certainly buckled if they weren’t firmly planted on the leather seats of the SUV. Who would have thought that you had a thing for white-haired bodyguards who call you ‘ma’am’?

Sylus raises a brow, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

You feel your face heating up more and more the longer you look him in the eyes, shifting your hips so that the tip of his cock finally meets your entrance. “Just… shut up and put it in.”

“How demanding,” he hums, smirking ever so slightly as he uses his grasp on you to make one sharp snap of his hips, burying balls deep inside of your heat. “But as you wish, pretty.”

You cry out immediately, the burn of the stretch fading into unfolding pleasure. Eyes locked on each other’s, breaths mingling with ease, skin slicked with sweat, it was…

“Perfect,” he whispers, smoothing his hands along your hips before one reaches up to cup your cheek. He pulls you into a deep, searing kiss. “So, so perfect.”

Your movements are timid at first, you were merely testing the waters that had yet to be explored. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing your deepest points with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.

Sylus begins to help you move a bit quicker, rocking your hips forward in smooth rolls, earning moans from the both of you that seemed to come straight from your guts.

“Give it to me how you like it, baby,” he encourages, both of his hands planting firmly on your waist. “Use my cock however you need it, sweets, it’s yours.”

His words have your clit pulsating around his thick shaft, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you begin to work up a pace of your own that has your heart beating wildly.

“I always… fuck—I always knew you were obsessed with me,” you jest, your grin stretching wide.

Sylus hums, the sound low and deep, his iron grip on your hips helping you maintain the intensity of your movements whenever your muscles beg for a break. “Yeah? Needed me to be buried inside of you to have that bit of confirmation?”

You nod with a smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you plant your forehead against his. He smiles too, a breathy moan leaving his mouth as you circle your hips in a way that has him seeing stars.

“Fuck yeah, I’m obsessed with you,” he admits without a semblance of shame, tilting his head back on the headrest.

Already feeling your second orgasm approaching, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat that made a musk that was so beautifully Sylus. His hands smooth over your backside, giving your ass a squeeze.

“Tch, let me see that pretty face,” he demands, nudging you with his shoulder so that you were sitting up once more. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You struggle to form a sentence, bouncing unabashedly on his cock, skin slapping together in an erratic pattern that spurred you even further. A string of whimpers and whines leave your puffy lips. Though your reply lacked words, it perfectly communicated what you wanted to say.

“Oh, I know it, baby,” he rasps, tilting his head back again as his eyes slip shut. “Pussy’s addictive—shit, I’m obsessed with her too.”

You begin to lose yourself all together, reduced to nothing more than a blissed out woman riding her bodyguard’s cock. “Sylus, I… mmh, I’m gonna cum.”

He nods in understanding, smoothing his hand through your hair as he brings you in for another kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, messy and drooling in the most beautiful way possible.

“Gonna come inside you if you keep riding me like this, baby,” he warns, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, as if it were confirming his words. You don’t do this often, contrary to popular belief, but you are on the pill. Luckily. “Please do.”

Sylus pants through a smile, licking his lips as he guides you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Huh… you really are something special.”

A deep groan leaves his mouth as he dips his head, grip tightening on your waist as you ride him through your shared orgasm. You aren’t sure where yours ended and his began, or if you had gotten the order wrong entirely. All you know is that in that moment, the two of you became one.

Panting, your hand plants on the fogged up window of the vehicle, leaving your handprint in its wake. Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, raising his own shaking hand to the window.

You watch through lidded eyes as he draws a tiny heart, writing his and your first initials inside of it with a little + in the middle. How cute.

Sylus then turns to face you again, bringing his hand to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, placing a kiss on his skin. “I have something to admit.”

He nods his head a single time, beckoning you to continue. “What is it?”

You give him a wry smile. “My publicist never gave me the idea for that publicity stunt.”

“…I figured that much, sweetie.”

note. bodyguard! sylus, my glorious king… ok i lowkey hate this but it holds no purpose saving up space in my drafts so :D pls interact if you enjoyed, rbs are greatly appreciated <3 thank you for readingggg !!!

new note: a part 2 of this fic is in the works! if you want to be tagged, comment or send me an ask ♥︎

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[rafelandia]

Two Babies (dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Summary: Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready.

Author's Note: Hello! Please enjoy my first Rafe one shot. I would love to expand on this couple so if you have any requests or any blurbs you'd like me to explore, please send me a message! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated - it helps more than you know. Happy reading :)

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I do, but this is one of the rare times when I actually mean it. Those blonde curls! Are you freakin' kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers. 

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Melanie, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

Melanie lovingly squeezed the extra chub around the baby girl's thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, so don't overexert yourself if becomes too demanding. Breastfeeding is cheaper though," Melanie chucked, though in her head she was kicking herself. As if this family is in any need to save money. "Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?” she continued.

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Rafe's big head, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Melanie laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, admiring Y/N's wittiness even in the absence of her husband. Given the reputation of the Cameron family, others might think the couple were all work and no play, but Melanie had the privilege of getting to know them behind closed doors. While they took doctor's visits seriously, always paying close attention to what the doctors and nurses had to say regarding the health of their firstborn, her experience with the Cameron's changed her outlook completely. Y/N and Rafe were warm, welcoming, and quite funny sometimes - always making jests at each other or sharing little tid-bits of what their life is like at home. She wished everyone could see them this way. Melanie really wasn't lying when she doted on the little girl, they were the best.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Rafe's really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Melanie re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Melanie's head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Rafe been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Melanie was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, Y/N thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Melanie was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Melanie's face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a blood test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

//

Rafe came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the pasta dish she'd been dying for all week was. Their grocery store had been out of her favorite canned tomatoes for over a week and she’d nearly tackled Rafe to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with them the night before. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the baby pink, quilted playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Y/N's coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?” Rafe called out.

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times. 

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Rafe could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. The houses on Figure Eight were lavish, but not all of the bathtubs were - at least that's what Y/N told Rafe. Who was he to question his bride?

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the metal doorknob tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife. 

Good. She was sleeping. 

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings that forced him to dress nicely. 

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. He wasn't always this way - he used to love this shit, but something inside him changed indefinitely when his daughter was born. Rafe was a softy now and he wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects of his everyday life like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental because she was growing so much these days, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his heavy watch into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quiet yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Baby? You awake?” Rafe peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door. 

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“You sick or something? Can hear you sniffling."

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Rafe cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw what little he could her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips illuminated by the hallway light being the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Rafe tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for his wife again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk to me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Rafe could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so. 

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.” 

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Rafe asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. He cut his eyes towards the hallway in the direction of her nursery before looking back to Y/N.

“Is she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Rafe worry.

“I was telling Melanie about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Rafe turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list. 

“And?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Rafe whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, Rafe” Y/N quipped.

“That's not what I meant,” Rafe fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many blonde, chubby babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present would be the gift of being a big sister. 

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. Don't do that,” Rafe shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her chest tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of shock and excitement about taking the next step in building a family. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled button-down, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean, honey? Of course you can. I can take more time off work like last time and let the boys handle everything for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but we’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“It's not ideal. You've only just now gotten back to work full time. You said everything almost fell apart while you were gone. It would fuck everything up. Plus, she's only six months old, Rafe. I can't go through that again so soon."

Rafe paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Are you serious? Of course I can take more time off work. You are more important than anything that could possibly be going on at the office.” He was a bit stunned by her words. She almost sounded annoyed, which didn't sit quite right with Rafe.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there to do? Will you please tell me what you're getting at, because I’m starting to get upset.” 

Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this? 

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And you think I’m not? I'm trying my best to keep it together for your sake if you haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending the way the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one that's pregnant. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to feel like you're burning alive from the inside out for hours and then just have to lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides apart. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Rafe was yelling now. They hadn't argued like this since they were much younger, and he absolutely hated it.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting that it was. I'm not sure what you want me to say though. I’m sorry? Is that it? Sorry for getting you pregnant? Sorry for having a job that helps us get anything we want for ourselves and our family? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fucking planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Rafe,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not making any fucking sense! Are you telling me you don’t want to keep it? Because I never fucking said that you have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands. 

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Rafe's hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Rafe peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just had that stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Rafe's hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Rafe's hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Rafe the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

//

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with sandy blonde curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Rafe's. Her eyes? A perfect, entrancing shade of blue akin to Rafe's. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of fleshy pink, just like Rafe's. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her nose, which was funny considering that Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Rafe before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. It was off seeing Rafe Cameron this way - being the one with his tail tucked beneath his legs. It was usually the opposite. He had changed out of his work clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of sweats that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistent on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Rafe loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Rafe's continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” Rafe started.

“It was uncalled for,” she quipped.

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“It's not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one having the baby. It’s you that’s got to do all the hard stuff and I know how scary it was last time. I should've been more considerate before jumping the gun.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?” his voice was quiet and pleading.

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Rafe could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his. 

“I love you so much. You know that? I’d drop everything for you if I had to. I don't care about any of it anymore.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you. You try to play it cool and I know that things are different now, but I also know that deep down you really like what you do.” The corner of Rafe's lips turned upwards, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she really does know him that well.

“Well, just know that I would if you wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want to be here for you. For her. Don’t want to miss anything. I finally got my shot at being normal when I met you and I hate myself sometimes when I think about all of the bullshit I've put you through.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Rafe's cheek.

“You’re a good person, Rafe's. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Rafe's chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Melanie to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face. 

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Rafe jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Rafe spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known Y/N was pregnant until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have to have one birthday party because they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go to the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Rafe Cameron? The party connoisseur? Suggesting his two precious babies share a birthday party?”

Rafe pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the fact that he'd already planned his daughter's first birthday in his head. Down to the tablecloth colors and dinnerware.

“Got me there,” Rafe chuckled.

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Rafe could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Rafe's heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together.

“Found those tomatoes at the store the other day, remember? Want me to make that pasta for you?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately perked up at the thought.

“Starting to wonder if that was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?” she proposed.

Rafe giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought it was a bit weird that you wanted it so badly, but I know better than to question you.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“I've got it, mama” Rafe quickly refuted. “Take a bath or something and I’ll bring it up when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Rafe used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now. 

Of course, she wanted more children with Rafe. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did. 

With two babies.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel’s an Old Lady

He acts like an old lady. I don’t know. Let’s say Billy’s been spending too much time volunteering at an elderly home because he doesn’t want to be on the streets skulking around. It’s rubbed off on him.

Like for example, he knits like crazy at the Watchtower. It gives him something to do with his hands, what can he say?

Marvel: *in an all too small rocking chair, holding too small knitting needles, zoned out, listening to the gods argue while making a quilt that’s like twelve feet long*

Hal Jordan and John Stewart: *peaking around a corner, watching Marvel*

Hal: “That’s what I was saying! He does not look okay.”

John: “Hal, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Hal: “Dude, he’s been at this for like two hours straight. No breaks.”

John: “Wait really?” *sounds more concerned now* “I would’ve thought he’d been at that for two days.”

Hal: “Yeah, no. He’s just been sitting there. Knitting. It’s kinda creepy to be honest.”

John: “Damn.” *uses ring to summon a ruler and float it over to measure the quilt*

Marvel: *doesn’t even notice as Zeus is picking a fight with Solomon*

John: “That thing’s like twelve feet long.”

Hal: “What?” *concern amps up*

Later Billy cut up the quilt a little bit and donated it all to a homeless shelter.

Then of course there’s the classic old lady move of giving out candy. He’d give the younger heroes candies. He’d give the younger heroes who have become adult heroes candies. And overall, he’d just give everyone candies.

Flash: *telling Marvel about some problems with Iris* “—And now she’s mad at me!”

Marvel: “Oh, it’s okay Flash. Here, have some candy.” *puts a strawberry taffy in Barry’s hand*

Flash: *sniffles as he shoves it into his mouth, wrapper and everything* “Thanks, man.”

Or

Damian: *got scolded by Bruce and is now silently brooding on the couch in the Titan’s Tower*

Marvel: “Heyyyyy Robin…” *super awkward* “I uh… heard you got scolded by Mr. Batman.”

Damian: *mini bat-glares him*

Marvel: *awkward pause* “Take a candy.” *gives him an orange taffy*

Damian: *stares at the candy for a bit* “Tt. I have no need for pity-filled gestures.”

Marvel: “It wasn’t meant to be pity-filled. I just thought candy would make you feel better. Sorry.”

Damian: “Don’t waste your apologies.” *eventually eats it*

or

Marvel: *gives a blood covered Red Hood candies even though the man just shot someone in front of him*

Batman: “Don’t encourage him.”

Red Hood: “Definitely encourage me. I have no idea where you get these but they are delicious.”

Then, the pie making.

Supes: *walks into kitchen cause he smells pie* “Marvel? Are you making pies?”

Marvel: *taking a fresh pie out of the oven* “Hm? Yeah! Ms. Kent told me about a new recipe to try.”

Supes: “Ms. Kent? Lois doesn’t make pies.”

Marvel: “Ohhhhh. No. I meant the other Ms. Kent. Your mom. We discuss and make pies and pie recipes. I’ve been to the farm a couple times too so we could bake together- Your mom hasn’t told you?”

Supes: “No?? Why do just casually know my mom like that?”

Marvel: “We met through a Facebook group. Want to try my blueberry?” *holds up pie*

Supes: “Yes??” *gets a slice and takes a bite* “This really good.”

[thehouseofurmotha]

Shinsou dating Aizawa's daughter head cannons :)

Pairing: Shinsou x Aizawa!Reader

I'm also working on a soulmate au with Shinsou 🤭 I fear he may be my favorite

• You and him meet when Aizawa asks you to spar with him, as you both have quirks that are less equipped for close range combat. You're in class 1-A too which is the class Shinsou would most likely join when he ends up in the hero course so it just made sense.

• You whoop his ass, he's immediately in love. He thinks you're extremely skilled and talented and pretty much begs you to help train him with your dad.

• Maybe it's because he wants to see you more often, but you don't need to know that.

• You ultimately agree and you and Shinsou pretty muuuuch become besties.

• But this is not enough for this man because he is absolutely enamored with you.

• One day while the two of you are sparing, your father leaves to go get another cup of coffee. And at this point he finally manages to pin you to the ground.

• For whatever reason he decides this is the best time to shoot his shot and is like, "Go on a date with me?" While he's just casually got you pinned to the ground.

• You don't manage to give him an answer before your dad gets back, but after you get up and brush yourself off you look at him and mouth a simple 'yes'.

• He smiles like a madman at this and your father looks at him and asks him what he's smiling about. He quickly goes back to his normal tired resting face with a quick nothing.

• Aizawa def thinks this is weird but he decides not to press any father. He feels bad pressing kids to tell him something they don't really have to.

• You guys go on a few dates before you officially start dating. Your father definitely notices that something about the two of you has changed but he doesn't realize that it has to do with the two of you being together.

• He finds out when he walks into your room while you and Shinsou were supposed to be just hanging out and watching a movie. Which he didn't find odd because the two of you had become fast friends with the friendly competition of sparring. But as he walks into your room to ask the two of you want for dinner he finds the two of you making out.

• He IMMEDIATELY kicks Shinsou out of your guys apartment. He isn't really mad that you guys are together he's just mad that you hid it from him and he had to find out like this.

• You guys have a very long conversation about being safe, and he definitely calls Midnight to handle most of it because he thinks he might just simply pass out from embarrassment. (You as well)

• He tells you he doesn't really care as long as you're happy. But this man does not let Shinsou live it down.

• Bro is fighting for his life during training the next day being worked so hard.

• Shinsou eventually gets back on your dad's good side and he comes over for weekly dinners.

I fear I may have an obsession with dadzawa.. and Shinsou.. I'm simply js a girl though. Anyways I hope you enjoyed :) <3 happy reading!

[chobunz]

cry for me.

pair: bf!sunghoon ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: smut, d/s dynamics, fingering, edging, dacryphilia, daddy kink

[ mdni !! ] currently suffering from severe brainrot thinking a little too much about being a needy n whiny mess for sunghoon’s fingers.. he gets off on hearing you whimpering and begging for him to let you come as he finger fucks you relentlessly, edging you until you’re on the verge of tears and just can’t physically take it anymore (◜﹏◝)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

you’re on top of sunghoon, straddling his lap while riding his fingers in his bed, whining loudly as you hastily grind your hips against him. his free hand finds purchase on the slope of your waist, eventually sliding upwards to grope your tits— pinching and rubbing at your taut nipples. “fuck, you look so hot..” he praised, loving how dumb and fucked out you looked already, mouth forming a gaping ‘o’ as he pumps his digits harder. he watches as your body tenses up above him, bringing your shaky hand to your throbbing clit for even more stimulation; rubbing in circles at a breakneck speed. sunghoon already had two fingers thrusting inside your tight, but you were feeling extra greedy for your man’s attention tonight.

“more..” you yelp, “wan’ more please !” it truly felt as though you could cry, begging to receive what you so desperately wanted. instead of listening, he chooses to play dumb with you, getting more enjoyment out of seeing how flustered you get. “more what ?” he asked in a sweet, yet condescending tone, “use your words, doll.” he knew exactly what he’s doing. this only caused you to whine even more, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks but you gained absolutely no sympathy from the man below you, not even an ounce.

“better hurry, or i won’t make you come at all.” he warns, showing very little to no empathy. it took everything in you to be able to speak, it was like you were keeping the only breath you had hostage. you take in a few inhales to catch your ragged breath before telling him what you crave, “your fingers daddy.. give me more please..” his lips crept into an accomplished smile and chuckles at how needy and pathetic you’ve become for him. “this what you wanted, baby?” without warning, a third finger plunges into your sopping cunt. your moans would only get louder, crying out as you hold onto sunghoon’s shoulder to stabilize yourself.

“so fucking tight, favorite fucking slut.” he groans, feeling his cock stiffen from the way you were clenching around his digits, you lost all sense of control at this point—shakily thrusting your hips to ride out your stampeding high. “gonna come for me my sweet?” his fingers still skillfully working in you, pushing you further and further to the edge. “yes daddy, coming— gonna come !” you were all worked up, sweaty, and dizzy from the ecstasy that shot through you but that pleasure was soon denied from you as sunghoon withdrew his fingers, watching your gushing arousal seep down to your thighs. your mouth went agape, crying and moaning out to him why he did that to you when you were so close. how could he be so cruel to you like that? ;( again, you were met with no remorse at all..

“awwe, crying again are we ?” he mocks you for the hundredth time in a row, “we’re just getting started.. ’m gonna edge this pretty little cunt for hours, ‘til you’re begging for me to stop. did i make myself clear enough, baby girl?” you nervously swallow, slowly nodding to show your obedience, “y-yes.. i heard you loud and clear daddy.” he was going to have his entire way with you for the whole night, watching you grow weak and over sensitive as he brings you to the peak of your orgasm thinking he’ll finally let you come but only for him to stop and do it again. you see your boyfriend’s methods of foreplay as softcore torture but he sees your cries as the most beautiful thing on earth, a cure that remedies his corrupt, perverted mind…

my b if this is bad LOL, i literally wrote this so quickly and i’m like half asleep bye-

[soft4gguk]

yearning | jjk one shot

the one that finds you in Jungkook's doorstep after a night out...

Description: idol!jungkook x reader, fwb 

Content: porn with loads of plot!

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: oc smokes 1 cigarette lol, they’re so flirty ouch, so much kissing, cutest little dynamic, dry humping (a personal fave in this house), fingering, protected sex (they’re so smart!!), loads of spanking, jaykay ass man forever. 

Author’s Note: i once sworn to never write idol aus because… i know nothing about this man ok? i do not claim to know what he’s like in a relationship or a situationship or in his personal life!! so please thread carefully when reading <3333 that being said, his lives last year and these first couple of episodes of “are you sure?” have me feeling very delulu so here u go!! hope you enjoy xo

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

The moment you exit the club, a gust of summer breeze engulfs you. It makes you wrap your arms around your body, but it amounts to nothing, the little black dress that you’d made the executive decision to wear, in the name of fashion, betraying you. The tequila shots you'd downed before leaving the house sure had deceived your senses, too.

Needless to say, you regret said decision, a shiver running down your spine all the way to your legs, making you jump a little in place as you tipsily look around you. You’d cut the night short. Your friends had found another lonely pair they’d quickly gotten cozy with, leaving you to drink one too many gin & tonics all by yourself. You hadn’t minded it for the first two hours, enjoying the music, sparking conversation with the bartender from time to time and entertaining the occasional stranger. Eventually though, it became boring, predictable, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel a little shitty about yourself. 

It was all getting repetitive. Friday nights, the same faces, small talk, ice breakers. Even the strangers you met had a similar M.O., making it all seem predictable. It made it feel like a waste of self, more than a waste of time, and it ate at you in moments like these, where it was strange to feel lonely amongst a sea of people, unable to shake the feeling.

The bright city lights illuminate the night, lacing it with something livelier than your mood and you smile. At least the scenery is always pretty. Pretty places. You hear the laughter of a group of people that stand a couple of feet away from you, they seem happy in that genuine way that reflects in pure, unadulterated beauty. Pretty people. 

You think of him. 

It’s rather instant. Or perhaps instinctive. The very own butterfly effect of your thoughts because to you, he’s the prettiest of them all. He’d been since the very first day, and as you lose focus of the pretty sights the more you stare into the city lights with him on your mind, you can’t help but think nothing will ever stand close. 

A girl stands next to you, audibly shivering as she exits the club and the air greets her with the same fate it did you. She holds a cigarette between her red lips, the fire from her pink lighter shining on her red hair. It makes you crave one, too, rummaging through your bag for your own. You smile when you remember how he would tease you for smoking “the skinny kind” as he would call them. Calling you a bit of a snob, but all in lighthearted nature. After all, he could. He knew you enough to let your closeness turn into inside jokes, banter. 

Perhaps giving into a vice could prevent you from falling into another. 

“Can I borrow your lighter?” she smiles at you before she’s handing it over. Her nails are pink, too. 

The fire feels pleasant for all of five seconds, warm against your face as you take the first drag. You give into one instinct so as to distract yourself from the one that’s tugging at your heart and senses, begging you to make a reckless call. 

You check the time. 

2:32 A.M.

~

Jungkook scrolls through the endless list of channels aimlessly. Small snippets from whatever’s playing that he cuts short, not really giving it much thought. He settles on one, solely so he can stop putting exertion on his thumb and go back to leaning against his couch – fully relaxed. He sighs. On the screen, some drama he hasn’t gotten around to watching plays, and the story seems to be developing quickly. He doesn’t care for it, if he’s honest, simply content with the white noise it fills the room with. 

Bam leaves his dog house, standing right in front of him and they seem to start an unspoken staring contest. He smiles, patting the spot right next to him on the couch and the pup rushes to take the place excitedly. He gets cuddles and kisses simply for existing. For keeping him company – his presence giving Jungkook more peace than he’ll ever know. 

“Hey, Bam, should we, like, meet up in our next life as well? Perhaps I’ll be the dog in that one and you’ll be my owner.”

Bam simply stares and Jungkook swears if he could, he’d let out a deep sigh right now. This makes him laugh. 

“Hey, don’t be jumping of excitement at the idea, man.”

At this, he attacks. With kisses, that is – wet, sloppy kisses that have Jungkook giggling and pushing back, though it is no use, his dog is that determined to give him love.

“Alright, you win. Let’s go get a beer. For me, not for you. You’re still too young. One day, son.” His voice takes on a lower tone, imitating his father. Or maybe Yoongi’s, he can’t tell anymore. 

He retrieves a cold beer mug from his freezer and cracks the can open, nodding his head at the sound it makes, the fizziness bubbling up before he pours it in the cold glass. He takes a sip as he walks back to the couch, blissed out in leisure.

He doesn’t mind being alone, specially not on nights like this when sleep leaves him and everything but seems more tempting. He likes the way everything slows down at this time of day, the ease of it all. No one to see, no texts to reply to. As for what the world is concerned for, he’s asleep. It’s peaceful, just being. 

Plopping down on the couch, he rests against the pillows, making himself comfortable. He must’ve spoken too soon, he thinks, because it’s not thirty seconds after this that his phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of him. He ponders on the possibility of simply ignoring it, let it sit there, facing down. But something tells him he should check the message. It could be important, or not. The pull isn’t necessarily violent, just a quiet voice that tells him so, like a little nudge. He leans forward, setting his beer on the table before he’s taking a hold of his phone. 

He gets it now – the pull. 

From ___: jungkookie, u awake?

To ___: no

From ___: can I call?

He smiles – so fucking big he almost hates that he does, slightly flustered and embarrassed you have this quick of an effect on him. And before he can talk himself out of it, he calls you. 

~

Seeing his name flash on your phone screen does more to you than anything you’ve deemed exhilarating tonight. The simple prospect of hearing his voice rushes more excitement through your body than any of the mindless conversations you had this evening. Than any of the conversations you’ve had all week perhaps. You smile and there’s no doubt that he can hear it in your voice when you say,

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence and you can hear the smile on his face, too. It’s warmth – he’s warmth, even far. How far is he, you wonder. Did you happen to demand of him at a bad time? Will the end of this call find you disappointed?

You cut to the chase. 

“What are you up to?”

There’s a pause and you can hear the way he sinks into his couch. “Can’t sleep so I’m having a beer and watching some TV with Bamie.”

He’s home and a giddy giggle escapes you. “Ahh,” you say.

“You? It sounds busy in there.”

“Yeah, I’m outside the club.”

“Fun night?”

“No.” You don’t lie, you never lie to him. Don’t have the need to, or the want to. Everything about Jungkook is comfort – the kind that welcomes. 

“Yeah, had a feeling. It’s not really your scene, is it?”

Your head leans to the side, eyes closing for a moment. He knows you in ways most people don’t, and it’s a simple remark but it gets to you. The fact that he doesn’t see you for the parts of you that feel the emptiest settles on your heart. It’s good, you think, to be seen by someone who observes.

“I want to see you.” There’s all the point in the world to be honest right now. 

“Come over. I’ll make you ramen.”

“Will you show me your cat?”

There’s a pause. You picture him smiling, biting his lip, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, that too.”

~

You sway from side to side, a little drunkenly and a whole lot excited, as you stand in front of his door. It’s brief, but as you wait you make a little reflection on your emotions. What exactly do you feel right now? It’s been so long – probably not that long – but long enough to make you happier than usual to be seeing his face. Anyone else would make you nervous, and perhaps he does, too, if only a little. But it’s a different kind of nervous. It’s laced with sweetness, as opposed to anxiety. And the minute he opens his front door, it’s replaced by something sweeter. 

Yearning. 

He stands there, glasses and black sweatpants on, signature oversized shirt – something so very home about him. Your eyes widen as you take in his hair, it’s grown significantly, giving you a rough idea of when it was you last saw him. Two, three months ago. He looks good; rested, fresh, beautiful. You can smell him before you even touch him and it makes you smile. He returns it. 

Yeah – yearning. 

“I like your hair,” you say, because anything else would give you away. 

“Yeah?” he runs a hand through it. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Let it give you away, you think. Who cares?

“Alright, well- it was nice seeing you.” He says, closing the door in a too casual, yet dramatic manner and you laugh, simply standing there – a little flustered because, oh does it feel good when Jeon Jungkook flirts with you in that boyish, teasing way only he knows how. 

He doesn’t close the door all the way. Instead, he leaves it open far enough for you to see the way he peeks his head out, nose scrunch and toothy smile to signal just how proud he is of himself right now. 

“Come here,” he tells you, reaching his hand out from the little gap and pulling you closer as you yelp, squeezing through the nearly closed door. “I missed you.”

You’re in his arms again, and the moment he closes the door behind you, his lips are on yours. It’s a soft kiss, one that says I missed you because you know him well enough by now to understand the things he says with his lips, and his eyes. With his hands, too.

“Mm,-“ you don’t want to pull back to get your words out, so you don’t. “Me more.”

Jungkook was always a happy coincidence – or at least that’s what you told yourself in a futile attempt to tame the feelings down. But the truth was that being back in his arms felt like fate, in that gentle way that doesn’t come in a movie-like encounter or in some sort of catastrophe bringing you together. Just being here. Anywhere, with him, felt fateful. You opt to believe in angels right this second just to thank them. 

“How are you,” his hand cups your cheek, pecking your lips before you can answer. 

“Good- better now.” His kisses muffle your words and you think you could live with this interruption for the rest of your life. 

“Yeah, me too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as he circles his around your middle. You take him in, not one for big displays of affection yet this one you could never deny, could never not welcome. 

It’s a sweet moment but the pull turns hasty soon enough the more your lips become familiar with one another yet again. You run your fingers through his long hair, rejoicing in its softness and length. His hand travels down, slowly but a bit desperately, squeezing when they meet your ass. 

What has a promising ending is cut short by none other than your rumbling stomach. It’s rather loudly and you both hear it, laughing in the middle of the kiss you two seem to refuse parting from. 

“You hungry, baby?”

“You promised ramen. And something about a cat.” Your lips part and you look at him, a pretty smile on his equally pretty face. 

“Mm, yeah. I did. I’m all stocked up on ramen but the cat…,”

“I prefer Bamie anyways.” 

You leave his arms, a smile on your face as you walk towards his beloved child’s crate. The moment he sees you, he hesitates for a moment, not yet having Jungkook’s command to leave his space but he’s excited – you can even make up his little tail wagging from side to side. 

“Come here, baby.”

He runs to you and nearly tackles you, settling into the floor to give him the proper cuddles he deserves. He steps on you the way he did when he was a puppy, sitting down on your knees as you scratch under his ears. 

“No one’s allowed to tell him he’s grown up. He’s little forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “He’s Jiminie’s height.” 

You sneer at him, shaking your head at his joke. He stands there, staring at you with a fondness he reserves for certain things that bring him that kind of comfort that’s gotten rarer over the years. He’s grown up, matured and gotten real about a lot of things but not you.

Never you. 

You’re still the innocence he kissed you with that very first time and the little bit of fear it wouldn’t go further than that. You’re the excitement he had when it did. You’re the flirty teasing and the falling in trust, opening himself little by little. You’re still something he once dreamt about – he still does. You’re the thing he has and doesn’t at the same time. You’re you. 

Your loud giggles as Bam licks your cheek wake him up from his little daydream and he winces at the sloppy kisses he’s leaving. You don’t seem to mind though and he knows that if it were up to you, you’d stay there til dawn. No ramen, no cat. 

“Alright, alright. Daddy’s getting jealous now. You can’t have her all to yourself.”

Your cheeky smile tells him you’re up to no good. “Daddy, huh? Have we ever tried that?”

“What haven’t we tried?” He genuinely ponders on his own question. 

“Pegging!” You say, a little too quickly and excitedly for his liking. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Mean.”

“Come on, let’s feed you.”

You smile. “Okay, daddy.”

~

It’s a chaos in the kitchen in between distracting kisses and your tipsy antics, munching on Jungkook’s leftover fried chicken as you scavenger hunt his cupboards for anything that could satisfy your alcohol induced need for sweets and carbs. You’d begged for pancakes, but he didn’t have any honey, and what’s pancakes without honey, really? 

“Ramen. Enoki and spring onions.” He says, convincing himself more than he convinces you.

“Okayyyyy. Ramen, enoki- what else did you say?”

His thumb and pointer finger rest at his temples in mock exasperation, making you giggle. “Hey, why don’t you go shower? This’ll be ready when you’re done.”

“Will you be able to work a knife with the thought of me all wet and naked in your shower?” 

“I’ll get you wet and naked later. Go sober up. Quick, quick!”

You laugh, kissing his cheek loudly and ruffling his hair before you leave the kitchen, making your way to his bedroom with familiarity - like you’ve done it hundreds of times and perhaps you have if you were to count. 

You know where he keeps the towels, that it’s the left tap that opens the hot water, the way his soap smells and what brand of shampoo he uses. His face wash and moisturizer are familiar to you because it’s the same brand you use. You’d left them here once and never got the bottles back. He began purchasing them after they ran out. 

You put on the same black Carhartt shirt you always do. It feels and smells the same. It makes you yearn and when you miss him, you smile in the comfort of knowing he’s in the kitchen, probably eating ramen from the pot as you take your sweet time in the bathroom. 

All clean and cozy, his house always being the perfect temperature with the add on warmth that swarms your insides at knowing you’re with him, you make your way back to the kitchen. He’s reaching for bowls, back to you and your voice startles him when you say,

“Don’t get dishes dirty, let’s eat from the pot.”

He turns to you, a boyish smile forming on his lips at the sight of you in his comfy, oversized shirt. He’s seen you in it more times than he can count but it still makes his insides tingle. Butterflies, dare he say, is what the sight gives him. 

“You sure?”

“Aren’t you? Afraid of exchanging saliva?” You poke your tongue at him and he grabs your wrist, pulling you swiftly towards him. 

“Not the funnest way we’ve exchanged juices, but it’ll do for now.”

“Juices.” Your nose scrunches at his words.

“Mm.”

He kisses you, ramen getting cold in the pot as your lips make him forget all about his hunger in the first place. Your stomach doesn’t, though. Interrupting your heated little moment yet again. 

“Feed me.”

“On your knees, then.” He teases, lips still on yours. 

“That sounds more like a treat than a threat.”

He smiles, passing you the chopsticks. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“With me. Yes. Just me.”

His words are selfish, of this much he’s aware. He knows exclusivity is too much to ask for. He knows the baggage he comes with and the hesitation that shines through your eyes whenever you find yourselves slipping into comfort and familiarity a little too much. How he can almost tell he’s about to go a season without you, just by this comfort alone. But he can’t help but want you, all to himself. He can’t help but say you’re his even if he’s just saying it. And when the smile on your lips meet your eyes in an almost nostalgic way, he knows you feel the same. 

“Yeah. I am.”

“I am with you, too.”

“I’d say I tried to talk myself out of texting you tonight, but I’d be lying.” Your chopsticks play with the noodles, eyes not meeting his. 

“Why would you talk yourself out of texting me?”

You shrug. 

“Don’t.” His voice is firm and your eyes finally look at his. “I’m always- I always want to see you, ___.”

“I know, it’s just- you know.” You say, and he does. He knows what you mean and he’s glad you don’t voice it because he doesn’t think he can bear the words that would only add insult to injury to the way your gaze falls, that spark threatening to dim its light.

“Yeah,” he gets closer, but it’s almost careful. His thumb caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch. “But you’re here now. I want you here now. Come back to me.”

You stare into his big eyes, smiling at him not because your heart isn’t breaking but because you wouldn’t dare break his with the reality of the situation. So you lie, but it holds truth. “I’m always with you.” 

As you two eat, in bursts of comfortable silences and mindless yet meaningful conversations, you start to get used to him again. You’re too tired to fight it, and when you welcome it, it’s sweet. 

~

The pot is empty, your bellies full. You lean against the counter as he puts you to date, catches you up on what his life has looked like for the past two months or so. Trips to L.A., New York, photoshoots, late nights in the recording studio, music videos, long flights and a Calvin Klein campaign you shamelessly admit to swoon over every time you pass by it. He asks about you and you keep your updates mostly work related. Long flights, long meetings, long days. Short bursts of inspiration and even shorter waves of motivation. You omit to tell him about the things you’re maybe not so proud of. The partying, the drinking on a wednesday night, the way your friends don’t feel like your friends anymore, more like acquaintances that keep you around when they deem convenient. You think his words could help, provide comfort and advice, but at the same time you fear the reality of the situation could burst the bubble of bliss you find yourself in right this moment. 

So you talk. You catch up. You play friends for a while, feel real mature when he shares snippets of his life that involve other people, other girls. People in his radar, his line of work, the love interest in his music video. Jungkook does, too. Feels like perhaps he’s come a long way when you tell him about trips you’ve taken with friends, new restaurants you’ve tried, galas he knows you haven’t attended alone. It’s all fine, it’s good. Total control of your feelings as you take each other in. 

Bam interrupts him mid-sentence, a sleepy whine in half protest he lets out as he walks inside the kitchen. 

“Aw, Jungkook,” you coo, “he’s sleepy.”

“Time for bed, Bamie?” He smiles, reaching down to scratch under his ears. “I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll be here.” 

You smile, well aware that he keeps his dog bed in a cozy room in his house, quite literally puts him to bed every night. It makes you think about how good of a dad he’ll make one day, how much love is stored inside of him, how he likes to be needed and shows affection through acts of service. Your smile drops a bit, a feeling taking over you that you don’t like but have grown used to over the years. 

You snap out of it, busying yourself as you begin to tidy up the kitchen, sliding his pink rubber gloves over your hands before you start washing the single pot, knife and chopsticks he’d used to make you dinner. It doesn’t take him long to be back, though, walking back inside the kitchen and smiling at the sight before him. You hum a song he can’t make up, hips shimmying to the beat as you scrub the pot. Your shirt rides up a little and he cocks his head to the side, smiling at the way your underwear peeks from underneath the fabric. A black and lacy thong that has him nodding his head in boyish satisfaction. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you, making you jump in place a bit at the sound of his voice.

You turn around, bringing a gloved finger to your lips as you shush him before you’re pointing it at the couch and shooing him away. “I’ll only be a second. Wait for me there.”

“‘Kay, boss.” He army salutes you, turning around and walking back to the couch, sitting down and sinking further into the cushions, legs spreading as he scrolls through his phone, a bit impatiently, missing you even though you’re so close. 

And to Jungkook’s great fortune, he doesn’t have to wait for much longer. Wrapping it up in the kitchen, you give it one last glance to make sure it’s back to its pristine state before you’re making your way towards him. He looks up at you, throwing his phone to the side and following you with his eyes, smiling when you’re in front of him.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say, voice sweet and low, eyes a bit hazy.

“Come here.” He takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as you throw your legs at either side of him, straddling him. 

“I needed this,” you admit.

“Me too,” he breathes. “I’m glad you called.”

You pout, eyes looking up for a second as you ponder. “You called me.”

He chuckles, not a single ounce of desire to deny you. “I’m glad I called.”

You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers getting lost in his long hair. His head draws back as your nails massage his scalp gently and he relaxes at your touch, goosebumps adorning his skin. His hands travel under your shirt, promptly finding your hips, waist, and then threatening to go higher but Jungkook wants to take his time tonight. He wants to stay in the sweet state of wanting you for a bit longer. When his eyes are back on yours, you kiss him. He sighs against your lips, bringing you closer to him by the waist, letting his tongue taste your bottom lip before he’s tasting your mouth. It’s slow, a bit sloppy and lazy, holds the quality of anything that happens in the middle of the night, when no one’s watching and time stills for the two of you. 

“Your skin is so soft,” he says, lips still on yours. 

“It’s your body lotion.” You roll your hips over his, smiling when you pull a low groan straight out of him. 

“Yeah,” he says, hands traveling down before he’s squeezing your ass, guiding your hips into his. “You smell like me. I like it.”

“I like it, too.” Your words get caught up in a moan as the outline of his cock parts your slit perfectly. 

You pull away a bit hesitantly, hands coming to rest at his shoulders as your hips pick up the pace. You go slow but sink deeper into him with every roll of your lips, eyes never parting from his as you take in the way his face starts to contort in pleasure, mouth parting slightly as his breathing grows heavier, little grunts leaving his lips with every push and pull. His hands travel back down to your hips, squeezing a little at the soft flesh, guiding them as you move over his cock. He’s so hard, can feel you through the layers, can bet on the fact that you’re wet and pulsing for him right now. 

“That feels good,” he sighs, gaze dropping as he rides your shirt up a bit at the front. His eyes fixate on the way the thin, lacy fabric of your panties bunches up every time you throw your hips back. 

“Brings back memories,” you say, voice a bit shaky when a particular roll of your hips has the tip of his cock hitting right against your clit. 

Jungkook smiles, mind hazy but perfectly able to picture the memories you refer to. “Mhm,” he sighs, so entrapped by the feeling he swears he can feel you pulse against him. He likes the way you consume his senses. The way everything around him stills and all he can think about is you. His hands squeeze at the flesh on your hips before he says, “turn around, baby.”

“‘Kay.”

Jungkook feels the loss of your warmth as you stand up before him once again, smiling at him before you’re turning around and sitting on his lap. You press your back to his chest, letting your head fall to his shoulder, your lips meeting his cheek in an open mouth kiss. His hands travel up your body, palms closing around your tits, thumbs playing with your nipples over the thick fabric of your shirt. You circle your hips, chasing the same friction from before but it’s not enough in this position. You bring your body forward, hands resting on his thighs as you throw your ass back at him, your pussy perfectly aligned on top of his cock, making you both moan at the same time. Jungkook’s gaze drops to your ass, enthralled by the way he feels, by the way you look. He rides your shirt up your back, exposes you to him and it only eggs you on, moving against his cock at the perfect rhythm. 

He hooks a finger down the side of your panties, letting it travel down, smiling lazily at the way you trap his knuckles between your pussy and his cock, moaning as you grind on them. He can feel how wet you are, dripping for him already even though he hasn’t touched you yet. “Want my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, please,” you plead, voice shaky as you look back at him. 

He’d usually tease you, make you beg for it a little longer, but tonight Jungkook obliges. It’s been long – too long – and all he can think about is being inside you, feeling you around him, making you feel good. He takes his time simply so he can savor the moment. So he can memorize it well enough to store it somewhere inside of him, just in case it’s another three months until he sees you again. 

He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, hissing at your warmth, cock jumping inside his sweatpants in anticipation and a little big of neglect. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over you as he begins to thrust his fingers inside of you slowly, arching expertly every time they hit your g-spot. His free hand squeezes around your ass cheek, groaning when the hand that fucks into you pushes down on his cock, aiding at giving him some much needed friction. You feel lightheaded already, all-consumed in his hold as he takes over your every sense. Your body relaxes and you can feel the way your tummy tenses right away. 

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum,” your voice is faint but he hears you well enough. 

“Already? That was fast, baby.” You don’t miss the cocky tone his words hint at. 

“Shut up and don’t stop,” you say, looking back at him playfully. 

You see the way he smiles at you before his gaze is dropping back down, fingers moving expertly inside of you at the same pace, applying a bit more force as he pushes in, massaging that spot with the tip of his fingers. The added pressure has you mewling in no time, nails digging into his thighs, teeth biting at your bottom lip to ground you back into the moment as you let go. 

“Fuck,” he says as he feels you cum around his fingers, sweet moans filling the space around you and he so badly wishes he could look at your face right now. “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He feels the way you contract around him, hips circling over his hand as you ride the waves of pleasure. 

You come down after a minute, mind still hazy as you fall back into him, lips finding his the moment he turns his head to the side. You kiss him, breathing into his mouth, smiling in your fucked out bliss. “That was so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “I need you to fuck me now.”

“Want it?” he asks, and you nod your head. “You can have it.” 

“Yeah, want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your voice is needy, holds a dreaminess to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss – one that makes him melt into your words, your touch, your lips as you kiss him again. 

Jungkook presses his hips into you, raising them a bit as he pushes his sweatpants down. You help him take them off, hand reaching back before you’re wrapping it around his cock. He’s hard and pulsing for you and if you weren’t pulsing for him, too, you’d probably want him in your mouth right this second. He feels heavy, big and thick in your hold, a grunt leaving his lips when your thumb circles around the head. You love how sensitive he is, how receptive. 

“Condom,” he says, before he runs out of blood in his brain and it all falls down to his cock. 

“In my bag,” you say, reaching to the side and pulling it towards you. You rummage around it for a second too long – a second that has Jungkook’s mind betraying him. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But nonetheless he can’t help but wonder where you’d be right now if he’d been asleep and hadn’t seen your text. Perhaps in the same position but with a stranger. Or maybe a stranger only to Jungkook. Perhaps he hadn’t been the only person you texted tonight. “Here you go, baby.” 

Your voice dismantles his worries and he’s warm again, all thoughts vanishing and it’s back to you and him. He leans forward, kissing your lips as he takes the condom from your hand. It makes you blush slightly, biting your lip in anticipation as you watch as he rips the foil of the packaging with his teeth. You watch the way he smirks as he rolls the condom on. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“Just thinking,” he says, smile growing wider, cheek dimples making him look cute but something about his voice begs to differ. 

You hum. “Thinking about what?”

He smiles. “July 14th, 2021.”

You both crack up, laughter filling the air the moment the words leave his mouth because of course you know what July 14th, 2021 meant. You’d been in a position very similar to this one, perhaps a bit more hazy minded, the true meaning of the heat of the moment finding you the minute you’d realized neither of you had a condom. You’d looked into each other’s eyes and made the silent agreement to be a little reckless and put a whole lot of trust on birth control and Jungkook’s pull out game. 

He said he’d never forget that day. 

“Long live, July 14th, 2021,” you say. 

“Shhh,” he says, squinting his eyes and bringing a finger to his mouth. “Don’t remind me.”

“You reminded yourself,” you bite back. “Now, can you fuck me? Pretty please.”

“Yeah, baby, come here.”

You push your ass back at him, looking at him from over your shoulder, biting your lip in anticipation as he strokes his cock once, twice, before he’s lining himself against your entrance. His hand comes to your hip, pulling you down towards him as you push him inside of you. You both sigh, moaning as he bottoms out, so deep and warm it has Jungkook throwing his head back against the couch, sinking further into it and pushing impossibly deeper into you. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimper, nails digging into his flesh. 

“Fuck me, baby,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. You nod, circling your hips a couple of times as you adjust to his size before you start moving your hips into him, ass bouncing with every push and pull. He hisses at the sight alone, bringing his hand down as he delivers a hard slap against your cheek, making you moan. “Shit, just like that. You’re so hot, ___.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes are back on yours, threatening to close in pleasure at the way your pussy feels around him. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, baby. So much.”

You fall into his chest, kissing him as he wraps his hand around your throat, not applying any pressure, just simply holding you. You gasp into his mouth when his other hand travels down and finds your clit, drawing lazy circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine and he moans when you move your hips to the rhythm of his touch.

“I don’t wanna be on top anymore,” you say, pouting into his lips, frowning when you feel his chest shake in laughter. 

“Of course you don’t.”

“I’m an awful top.”

“You’re not a top.”

“Hey, I was a good top that one time,” you protest.

“Mm, yeah, that was hot. You got all bossy on me.”

“Oh, but that’s regardless,” you tell him, pushing your lips into his once more and straightening your back, smiling as you look back at him. He wipes said smile off your face in a second, hand meeting your ass in another hard slap. 

“Stay there,” he says, holding firmly onto your hips. 

“Okay, daddy.” That earns you another slap, though you can’t say it wasn’t exactly the goal in mind. 

“Behave.”

Your face grows pliant as you nod at him and Jungkook has to fight to keep up the front because if he’s being honest, the sight alone drives him crazy, threatens to break him down completely and leave him a needy, whiny mess. He holds you in place, legs raising you up a bit before he starts pistoling his hips against you, fucking you hard and fast and even though you saw it coming, it still takes you by surprise. The force of his thrusts, how good he feels as the pain translates into pleasure, the noises he makes – it’s all too much but fuck, you don’t want him to ever stop. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes closing as your face contorts in pleasure before the sensation ripples through you and you’re crying out. Your hand holds onto his arm and the firm grasp you have on it let’s him know.

“Fuck, I’m cummin,” you breathe out.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

“Oh my God,” you say, voice shaky and faint as you throw your body back into his. 

“Fuck, I love your pussy.”

“I love your cock,” you say, fucked out giggles escaping your lips. 

It takes you both a minute to steady your breathing and regain your strength. Jungkook kisses your neck, snaking a hand inside your shirt and squeezing your boob as you arch your back at the feel. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

“Music to my ears,” you say, giddy and excited. 

Your knees buckle a bit when your feet touch the floor, the both of you laughing at your loss of balance, Jungkook a bit more cockily than you. He slaps your ass softly once, then twice as you begin to walk towards his bedroom. Once inside he takes his shirt off and when you turn around, your eyes scan over his body, metaphorically and possibly physically drooling over him. Your hands find the hem of your t-shirt before you’re pulling it off your body and tossing it aside until it’s landing on top of his. Your tits bounce as you do, and he nods his head at you, a satisfied pout adorning his lips. The pout turns sour the moment you turn around but is soon enough replaced with a smile when you start to crawl on top of his big mattress, finding the perfect spot over his pillows and laying down comfortably. 

“You’re so perfect.” Jungkook says, because anything else would downplay it and he’s not in the mood to run away from the truth. You giggle, soft and sweet and he feels the way his heart aches for you inside his chest. 

“Come to me,” you say, arms outstretched towards him. He makes his way to you, letting himself hover over you for a minute as he takes you in before he’s falling perfectly between your legs. You kiss him, letting your fingers get lost in his hair, breathing into the kiss and you swear this moment is laced in pure, unadulterated bliss. “Want to feel you inside me.”

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.”

There it is, yet again, and without a fail. It’s so common you nearly miss it – the way the moment turns tender. It’s mostly soft, this unspoken agreement you’ve fallen into with Jungkook. It’s friendship and attraction, good sex and years of exploring each other. It’s trust and communication. It’s understanding. It’s soft at the beginning and tender halfway through. It’s so tender it feels tangible, like the moment itself could fit inside the palm of your hand and feel ripe to the touch as you hold onto it. It’s tender when he looks into your eyes, it’s tender when his voice says your name, when you kiss his lips. It’s tender when the lust borders on something else. It’s tender when it lingers, when it threatens to fall. 

He fucks you, hips moving against yours slowly, pulling moans out of your lips that get caught between his own when he kisses you. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper into his mouth, words that only he could hear even if it weren’t just the two of you. 

“Fuck, baby, so do you,” he whines, supple and yours, even if for that moment. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You smile, hand running through his hair before your fingers are pushing a strand behind his hear. “Cum for me, Kookie. Wanna feel you cum for me.”

Your words throw him over the edge, falling blissfully into you. It feels so fucking good. Your fingers running through his hair, down his neck and then back up again. The way your pussy clenches around him, cock throbbing for you at the wake of his release. Your lips are soft and the rise and fall of your chest falls into perfect sync with his. His hand squeezes at your breast before it’s traveling down your body, squeezing at your thigh before you’re wrapping your legs around his waist, flushed to him. Every little thing you do heightens his senses until all he can breathe, think and feel is you. His face falls down the crook of your neck and you breathe out a moan into his ear, unraveling him completely.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” His hips slow down before they still completely, a moan passing his lips as he releases into the condom, your nails softly running down his spine. His body feels spent but he doesn’t miss the way it relaxes on top of you, blissful and peaceful, growing sleepy right away. 

“Feel good?” you ask, your fingertips running down his back in what feels like a feathery whisper. 

“So fucking good,” he mumbles against the skin of your shoulder before his eyes are finding yours again. He kisses you. He kisses you because in moments like this he wants to say something else, something that makes more sense to his heart than anything his brain could say.

You kiss him back, afraid your heart will betray you, too. 

~

You stare at him as you make your way back to his bed. He lays on his tummy, cheek pressed against the soft pillow, his pretty hair framing his face in a way that makes him look dreamlike. He doesn’t move an inch when you pull back the covers, if only for a second, to get back in bed with him. You lay on your side, eyes still fixed on him and your heart grows a new kind of tender at the sight of his sleeping form. He’s pouty and soft and so, so peaceful. Something sinks in your tummy, but it’s not in a way that signals bad news. Perhaps it’s the butterflies settling, perhaps the heat of the moment has began to cool down. 

Your hand comes to his face, fingers gently pushing his hair out of his eyes before you let them wander down his face. His cheeks are soft, his ears cold and when it tickles, he frowns. Your thumb travels up again, smoothing his brow bone and he relaxes. Your eyes follow your touch as you trace the bridge of his nose, slowly, softly, as if you were being quizzed on it later. Wanting to take everything in, afraid that even blinking could take away from the moment. And when your finger lands on his lips, you trace that too the way your own did only minutes prior. 

His eyes begin to flutter, a failed attempt to open them but you know he’s partially awake from the smile that pulls at his lips. You feel it on your finger before your eyes meet his gesture and when they do, you close them instinctively, leaning over and kissing him. His body can’t respond to his brain right now, exhausted and more asleep than he is awake, but he hums in satisfaction, lips puckering as he tries to give into his instincts. 

“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll go buy honey and make you pancakes.” 

You smile, though he can’t see, and perhaps it’s for the best. Your voice is a whisper when you say, “deal.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you fall asleep.

~