#branded gang name :)

[itsmeglycine]

previously: L4D2 squad

[charhuahuakelly]

honeyandvinegarrealty -> chihuahuakelly

[entityforged]

muse: lake yang. he/him, bi.

open to: m/f/x, former friend/hookup/partner

plot: lake and his brothers had to abruptly leave the gang they were raised in when one of his brothers killed the second in command. they’ve spent the past few years constantly moving to avoid the gang’s retribution, but (whether on purpose or on accident) lake was just found by the last person he wants to see—the person he was once closest to, before he disappeared without a word.

he’d hesitated. one of the first things he’d learned as a child—hesitate, and you’ll get people killed—and he’d done it anyway. the second he’d seen them, lake should have run as far and as fast as he could. but instead, he froze, because try as he might, he'd never been able to stop missing them. he did run, but it was too little much too late, and only moments later there's a hand on his arm. "get the fuck away from me," he growls, reaching under his shirt for his knife. he doesn't want to hurt them, wants to just collapse into their arms, but he knows that's not an option anymore.

[paddysbarbie]

no macdennis talk in this ep but taylor swift confirmed sunny stan is just as good for me actually

[janumun]

A Relentless Conquest (LaDS Sylus - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 10.7k Pairing: Sylus/Reader

Tags: dueling (Sylus fighting), semi-public sex, oral and vaginal sex, Sylus’s brand of manhandling, dry humping, praising, dirty talk, rough sex, wander in wonder AU/historical AU, based in ancient Mongolia, creampie, size difference, mild rich/poor class power dynamics

Summary: What happens when you end up catching the unwanted attentions of a sleazy magistrate on a day out in town? A duel for your honor — or lifelong imprisonment — is what awaits you. That is, until Sylus, leader of the exceedingly notorious Onychinus gang, and a man you dub reluctantly, an old acquaintance, intervenes and offers the immoral magistrate a deal he cannot refuse.

[A fic where Sylus engages in a precarious duel in order to free you from the clutches of a corrupt high official; wins the duel AND the prize at stake, you.]  

Author’s Notes: The things the Wander in Wonder trailer did to me were unspeakable, I had to get started on this fic right away. Another long monstrosity so it took me quite a while to hammer it out smoothly. Some terms used within, to note: *tögrögs is an old Mongolian currency and *Lungtang is the Mongolian city used loosely within this fic’s setting, as per Sylus’s alleged outfit inspiration drawn from the Mongol’s hunting fit in the current event, “Wander in Wonder” . An amazing twitter thread for the rest of the inspirations drawn for the boys’ outfits can be found here. 

Link to Ao3

Perhaps you should’ve considered your course of action through before you’d tossed yourself voluntarily into the metaphorical den of lions. Caleb did always tease you for your often impudent ways, declaring you’d get yourself into hot water someday.   

You didn’t quite think past saving the small, unfortunate child in front, when he’d careened straight into the Magistrate, staining the sickly bone white of his gaudy robes with the treat he’d been brandishing in hand. An action of careless innocence that could’ve saddled the boy with a severe punishment of thrashings at best. And at worst —   

You didn’t even wish to entertain the horrifying notion.   

You whisper a quick note of warning to the trembling child in your arms before he’s nodding his assent, making a clean dash away from the Magistrate and his burly procession of hired cronies. They do not move to stop him; the official’s beady eyes sweeping cursory across his fleeing figure before he focuses upon you once more.   

“Well then, speak up, girl. How do you plan on making up for the crimes of the filthy criminal you just let escape?” He leers at you, sending a frisson of disgust through your veins. “I do not mind much, provided you are able to compensate me in full.” He holds up two thick, swollen fingers. “two thousand tögrögs.” Your stomach revolts in near horror at the exorbitant price he names.   

“Speak, lass, do you possess the means to compensate me?”  

“...Apologies, Sire, I do not.”  

The Magistrate clicks his tongue at you, as if that son of a cur had not already anticipated your answer; your garb alone giving away your status as a mere commoner while he stood, a tall, foolish braggart of a Magistrate, who’d been a constant source of worry amongst the townsfolk as of late. “What a pity. I guess we shall have to make you pay off with what you do have on person, shan’t we?”   

His eyes rove down the length of your body in a manner greasy enough, it has your fingers itching to claw them out of his skull. Thoughts of the consequences of your actions extending to your family after — your grandmother and Caleb — are what stay your hands, firm by your side. You try and maintain that demure grace firm within your body instead.  

“What else are we to do if she cannot pay for what she has cost me, yes?” The Magistrate flourishes his arms wide and turns, towards the crowd that has gathered to watch, setting the stage for his perverse demands. “An eye for an eye, an honor exchanged for honor; that is the Law of our Lungtang, is it not?”  

None of the commonfolk dare to speak against the tyrant’s words, lest they make of themselves a new target to harass. And you do not blame them either, the burden of your reckless actions, yours to bear alone.   

The man trundles forwards on heavy steps; the large, ugly stain left across his robes growing wider in your lowered line of sight before the expanse of his bloated, sweating hand fills your field of vision. The rings around his fingers, nearly engorging the base of them as he curls his hand about your jaw to heave your gaze up towards him.   

The ugly, toad-like sweep of his tongue against the top row of black and gold teeth has a chill skittering down your spine. “You’re rather lovely, you know that?” He croaks in a low, creeping voice.   

You bite harsh into your bottom lip to revolt against the bile that threatens to reflux past your throat and onto the bastard’s face. “What say you become my whore then, dearest? I’d treat you very...” A slimy slip of the hand down the expanse of your body, to settle at your hip. “ well . And if you please me, you could even climb the ranks and become first Mistress, you know?” You judder at the stench of his breath, nearly in your face now. Unable to help the revulsion he inspires in you and you know; the cur in front takes it for a show of abashed innocence, with the way his leer stretches wider across his face.   

“I am far too plain and discourteous for a man of your stature, my lord. If there is anything else I could do for you in recompense, I would be more than delighted to offer my services.” The words uttered, sit sickly sweet on your tongue. “I have a good arm on me and can do any physical labor you may require of me.”   

The rat makes a show of deliberating your words. “It’s a pity the only ‘physical labor’ I require of you lies within my bed, dear girl.”   

You visibly recoil from his revolting touch at your arm; perhaps you aren’t able to quite keep your emotions from surfacing upon your face this time round as the man grabs at your forearm tighter, gaze darkening in simmering displeasure.   

“You know the law, woman. If you wish to run scot-free without offering anything in return, you must put your life on the line and agree to a duel with the offended party.” He chucks a thick, swollen thumb back at his minions, voice seething into a threatening octave. “And I wouldn’t suggest that unless you want them to crush that pretty face of yours.”  

You consider ending it all; cutting the bastard open for him to choke in a pool of his own gurgling blood. You think you could do it too, before his bodyguards could get to you.  

And with the loss of their Master, they wouldn’t be able to hold you prisoner within the dungeons for too long: you hoped. The stray, wild thought is all you can see within your vision.   

Your hand twitches for the dagger fastened right beneath your satchel, one Caleb had lent you for protection. Fingers barely grazing against the polished hilt of the blade, cobbling together courage to see your mad plan through.   

Before large, thick digits are slipping against yours to halt — a fleeting touch of caution — from behind, fracturing your hasty plan entirely.  

You’re barely able to comprehend the sudden, unnoticed proximity of your interloper, before a great arm is coiling fast about the expanse of your waist, snatching you swift from the Magistrate’s claws and firm against a warm, broad chest.  

“Now, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” The well-known burr, welcome, in that moment stirs joy within your belly as you reach to crane your neck to meet eyes with that familiar scarlet.  

“Sylus.” You croak in near disbelief.   

He exhales, low, against the shell of your ear, before he slowly lets go of you. “I’m away from Lungtang for a mere fortnight, only to find you scrounging for trouble, upon return.”   

Your irritation might’ve flared at his words if not for the phlegmy clearing of the Magistrate’s throat in front.   

“And who do you think you are to touch my property so carelessly, insolent fool?”  

Your ire directed from the man behind to the bastard in front. You feel Sylus’ hand soothe a flex about your shoulder.   

“My bad, honoured Magistrate.” He sweeps an insouciant palm at him, the grin upon his face edged to a dagger’s point. “We did not think you would be gracing Lungtang so soon with your noble presence. Or we might’ve arranged for a far better reception, for your Grace.”  

Each word that slips past Sylus’ lips is a sarcasm heavy barb that turns the official’s face in front purple with each syllable uttered. “That woman owes me, you dog. I shall make her my mistress, as is only fair I extract proper recompense from her for her grave offense.”  

One of the Magistrate’s men behind scamper forward in that moment to whisper urgently into his ear. The official’s eyes nearly burst out of his sockets at whatever he’s learned, wide toady gaze skittering towards Sylus as if he is indeed a rabid beast that would bite if disturbed.   

He thrusts an accusatory finger at him. “You are the Onychinus’ leader.” He spits. “That gang of lawless hounds.”  

Sylus’s mouth quirk into a vicious smile at the allegation. “That I am.”   

“You— you,” The Magistrate seems to sputter for the space of several moments before the man at his side mutters something else into his ear.   

The official straightens at whatever he’s heard, clearing his throat, once. Twice. “I am willing to pardon your crimes.” He begins once more. “Provided you can prove yourself worthy in a duel against one of my men.” The crowd around you breaks into quiet murmurs. “But,” he continues. “if you lose, Onychinus dog, then along with your little woman, you shall give up your life to my service, your autonomous tyranny within these lands shall cease to exist and you shall follow my sole command.” He pauses for a moment’s breath, as if to let the weight of what he believes to have been a devastating challenge, sink in.   

But all he earns from Sylus is a raised brow. “Sounds like a deal. Let us raise the stakes, though, shall we?” He cocks his head at the procession of guards right behind the Magistrate. “I’ll take on all your men, not just your best. Give you a real crutch to get started with.”   

The crowd of onlookers erupts into gasps of surprise and gibbering discussion amidst the concerning blue coloring the Magistrate’s face at the taunt. You desperately clutch at Sylus’s arm. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”  

He meets your wide-eyed panicked gaze with a cool, gentle one of his own. “Calm yourself down, kitten. I’ll be fine.” A large hand, he places gentle at your head in reassurance but all it does instead is send your alarm flaring higher.   

What had you roped the man into? Infuriating though he was. Sylus was a confounding acquaintance of years; you could not help be lured into irritation any time he were around — a man whose companionship you’d come to cherish in begrudging gratitude over your time together — but this is not what you’d wanted.   

Your reeling thoughts fractured by the screeching Magistrate in front. “You think you’re all that, you shameless scoundrel? Oh, you’re just a man and I’ll make sure they break your limbs, bone by excruciating bone, before we drag you bloodied and defeated, to my estate.” He spits the time of the duel to be held tomorrow in that same fury before he’s turning on you both and trudging back off to where he came from, his procession of cronies falling along right in line.   

And you’re left behind, with the metallic poison of your regret within your mouth and bone deep worry within your body as you stare up at Sylus’s form.   

The next day arrives much too soon, even as sleep evades you through the entirety of your night, spent tossing onto much too warm sheets.   

Now, having dragged yourself to dress and prepare yourself for the dreaded day, you trudge out of your home, chancing a brief, longing look upon the humble place over your shoulder, in case it were truly your last.   

You hadn’t divulged the details of your itinerary for the day — which possibly entailed getting sold into slavery to a sleazy official, by the time noon rolled in — to Grandmother or Caleb and you preferred it remain that way for as long as possible. Your Grandmother was coming along in her years, with weakened nerves now and Caleb tended to be a frightful worrywart in matters concerning you.   

“Someone’s starting the day rather early. That eager to see me fight, are you, kitten?” The familiar voice beckons. You toss a raised brow over your shoulder at your previously truant neighbour, now returned — his house having settled long vacant in his absence, over the course of his journey to Gods knew where. And the root cause of all your fretting; Sylus moves to join you by your side in two easy strides.  

“Don’t you even dare try joke about it, you absolute madman,” you mutter darkly under your breath, reaching to knock a fist against the side of his torso.   

The same old routine you tumble into, with him; you aren’t able to tamp yourself back from biting into the man as soon as he’s in your sights; the only person capable of wrenching out your honest, most reflexive reactions. And you hate the ease with which this incendiary of a man manages to drag them out of you.   

“What took over you to throw that offer out at that bastard, when you all but had a nice, even playing field to yourself? Now you’re just—” Your mouth snaps shut against the rest of your words, bitterly swallowed.   

How did you even begin to disentangle your bunched feelings on the matter? You knew how all of Lungtang chanted the tales of the fearsome Onychinus head. A conundrum of a man with a reputation as daunting as his influential mien, one that never failed to instil the fear of God in lesser men; criminals and bandits, who sought to rob their small town on the rare luckless occasion — dubbed this obscure town’s own Warrior God.   

But to you, he was also just Sylus; the man you’d grown in close proximity to since your late teenage years and a person you’d grown to care for in the natural course of your odd tug-and-push relationship.   

And though you remained constantly wary of the type of people Sylus associated with, in his particular line of work — a job you did not wish for, to bring even a modicum of harm onto your family by association with him, you could not help the restless agitation that needled at you each time Sylus left home, sometimes for weeks on end, on any number of his covert expeditions.  

And each time he did, the very nagging, unwelcome thought intruded, that perhaps this time he might not make it home.   

“Are you worried for me right now, kitten?” Sylus’s airy query breaks through your reverie, your gaze leaping to find his, fixated firm on you. Those scarlet eyes seem to lose part of their mirth at the face you’re sure you’re pulling.   

You tear your gaze away first, choosing to watch the path you two trek on, instead. “Of course, I’m worried. What a silly thing to ask.” A muted wisp of words.   

Ones that spark an immediate stroke of mild discomfiture at the admission; you prattle on before he can speak. “I know you’re strong, I know that. But just you against what — 13 or 14 grown men? More if that bastard intends on killing you. Anyone with half a wit and eye can see it’s a self-slaughtering mission from yards away. I don’t understand—” your indignant voice breaks, to throttle in much needed air into breath parched lungs. “I just don’t understand why you’d do that. I don’t understand you.”    

Help me figure out what you’re thinking; are the words you wish to speak but your voice refuses to assist.  

Sylus hums a low, throaty sound; in admission that he’s heard you.   

And then he opens his mouth to speak. Divulging a ‘reason’ that makes no sense to your muddled mind, simple though his words are. “That cad disrespected you.” Garnet tips your way to meet your surprised gaze. “That’s reason enough, is it not?”   

“I—”  

“Don’t fret anymore.” he continues. “I won't lose, you have my word.” Long, tapered digits brush gentle at your temple, in reassurance of your worries. “And once I’m done with that weasel, he won’t ever be capable of crawling within a mile of you, let alone dare a finger your way again.”   

The confession, sudden and honest, spurts warmth within your chest that readily clambers up your cheeks and floods down into your belly. A knot pulled tight within seeming to relax just that bit, in comfort of his words. Truly, he confounds you; this odd, beautiful man.   

You capture his fingers against yours in an insistent hold, halting him in his tracks. “You better keep your promise to me, Sylus,” you speak, meeting his gaze, firm on yours. “Do not forget the prize that’s at stake here. You'll come out of there, victorious. I won’t afford you any other options, you hear me?”   

A pleased grin edges across that beautiful mouth, skewing it wider. He angles forward, so that garnet gaze is level against yours. Flexing the catch of his digits in between yours before he’s sweeping your hand towards his parted mouth in a fleeting brush of lips against your knuckles. “If it is my victory the Lady commands, so it shall be done.” He elaborates, a mild tickled inflection to his thick baritone.   

You disregard his little jibing use of the title for this one instance; his solemn promise you know he’s sealed to you; in the gentle grip of your fingers against his, garnet that refuses to stray until you see the resolve of his vow settle within that gaze too.   

By the time your deliberately protracted journey finds its end at the arena, edging the outskirts of Lungtang, the Magistrate along with his chosen warriors are already there, positioned and waiting by the great stone pillars of the vast grounds.   

The coming fight having attracted the townspeople to turn up in droves to watch the weaselly Magistrate take on their best warrior — hordes of curious eyes you feel boring into the two of you as you make your way towards where the Magistrate awaits.   

“Here you are. Any later and I might’ve started considering you’d fled with your tail in between your legs.” The Magistrate crows out loud. “After all, my men shall soon prove how Lungtang’s criminal they so falsely worship as a hero, is more bark than bite.” The swarm of brutes — big and terrifyingly bulky — he’s brought along, laugh at their Master’s goading.   

Sylus, however, remains unperturbed. “Is that so? I can’t wait to find out,” he responds, scrubbing an insouciant hand through his hair.   

His apathetic response seems to key the Magistrate’s ire even higher, sputtering his rage at him. “Y-You absolute— you imbecile. I will crush you.” Creeping a hand forward for you now, “I’ll hold the girl with me. We might as well quicken ourselves, in preparation for when you inevitably fall and watch me claim my rightful prize.”   

You steel yourself against the touch, palm rising to curb his approach with a polite denial but your companion is swifter; large hand darting forth to curl a harsh fist against the official’s greasy wrist.   

“No.” Sylus speaks, voice a low, lethal burr you haven’t ever heard from him before. “I don’t think you will, Sire.” Whatever it is the foolish Magistrate discerns within your companion’s steady gaze, has him flinching in visible fright at the sight, sweat beading wide across his pale, swollen face.  

He wrenches his wrist from Sylus’s grip, as if scathed just as you angle a curious look up at the Onychinus head; his face an impassive mask — hardly unusual — before it breaks into the tiny quirk of a self-assured grin when he catches you watching.  

The Magistrate yelps in frustration, turning in on a ferocious heel. “D-Do not waste my time any longer than you have.” Barking the rest of his words; he heads toward the makeshift dais he’s had set up for himself at the edge of the ring. “Come onto the fields now so we can commence the match.”  

“Sylus,” you place a hand at his arm to stall. “Duck down for a moment.”   

He raises a careful brow at you and you think he’s going to refuse for a moment but then he surprises you in the wordless, compliant drop of his head close to yours. Allowing your eyes to trace his features; those familiar scarlet eyes steady against yours, the slope of his broad nose, sweeping into the bow of full, slightly scraped lips.   

You realize you trust this man and what he’s offered you, whole-heartedly. And so, you wish to extend the same sentiment, reaching for the precious beads adorning your neck — an heirloom from your late parents, your most prized possession.   

Plucking it up and over your head in between cautious digits before you reach to place it about his neck instead. Leaving part of your most priceless gift with him, just as you’ve decided to entrust him with both your Fates. “A charm,” you clarify, “for good luck. It has been my most invaluable escort and has kept me safe all these years.”   

Sylus mutely treks delicate fingers across the worn beads of the chain, grasping it in between a loose fist, in acceptance of your faith.  

“Return it to me once you’ve won.” You tell him, rapping a firm fist against the leather guard at his chest.   

Large, warm digits move to curve about yours, gripping your fist against himself. “As if I could turn down such a heartfelt request, sweetheart.” A spirited grin tugs at his features.  “I’ll bring your little treasure back to you in one piece.”   

“Good, I’ll wait for it.” You respond. “Now, go out there and show them the might of our Warrior God.”  

The Magistrate flourishes open an official scrolled document, no doubt detailing the terms of their duel as soon as Sylus shifts to take position within the field, on opposing side of the assembly of his hired goons.   

You move to occupy a place up front, to stand among the vast gathered crowd, observing the proceedings as the Magistrate clutches the scroll up into the air and begins to drone out the conditions of the fight and the prize at stake — your belly stirs in nausea — you . “The duel shall be declared closed when all members of a party have been knocked unconscious; or killed, under the rare, unfortunate circumstance.” His beady eyes rove Sylus’s way. “Any objections?”  

Sylus shrugs the question off entirely in the flex of an arm against his chest, in preparation of the duel. “Let us not waste our time debating inanity now, as you said earlier. Commence the fight.”   

The Magistrate’s face colours a foul purple — you hope he may truly burst — but all he does is spew a cold, curt, “Begin.”  

The arena hurtles into instantaneous chaos, along with the crowd’s rousing cheers and gasps of terrified delight as the Magistrate’s cronies hound Sylus all at once. Your body hunching forward on reflex to watch as the first set of blows streak straight for Sylus’s face but he ducks down with an agility, unusual to a man of his stature.   

He catches two of the oncoming blows against his palms. Jamming his fists tight about their wrists before he contorts them sideways in a dull crackle of bone. The men immediately buckle to their knees in an agony of groans, their peers stepping over their fallen companions after, to grab for their opponent who springs out of their way, as if dancing the men around, with a noose placed about their grappling bodies.  

A sharp jab comes right for Sylus’s side after, the crony tries and lands a hit against his ribs; the latter’s grasp flexing about his arm to break his momentum, wrenching him close into his body. Before Sylus jostles his elbow harsh into the man’s back.   

Two men lunge for Sylus, aiming for his blind spot; your scraped call of warning lost amidst the thunderous din of the crowds as Sylus rounds upon his assailants. Grabbing the man he has on hand, fingers fisting tight into his garb before he hurls him onto the approaching minions, with a force violent enough, the three go bowling straight into the dirt.   

The crowd’s cheer is raucous; wild as the grin that splits wide across Sylus’s face as he stretches his body tall to full length. “Come now, that’s surely not all of what you’ve got for me.” Sweat barely beginning to make itself known across the firm muscled expanse of his arms, his torso. He's hardly out of breath while his opponents gawk at him as if cornered against a rabid beast.   

Your heart thrills in unexpected, startled pleasure to witness the strange, sensuous virility to his almost savage visage as he paces forward on swift, easy steps, within the ring.   

You’d always known Sylus to hold a rich charisma compacted within that strong personality; an ability to entice all he came into contact with. A brilliant, perceptive mind along with that tacit, undeterred will; he’d brought flourishing business booming within Lungtang over his period of unofficial rule of the place. The uncrowned Onychinus King and a fearsome warrior; the first time you’d truly stood witness to what he was capable of, outside of devious negotiations, professional and unalike.   

And to know, it was for you that he stood in that place now, socking down enemies with the streak of a great, terrifying beast that had your heart skittering within your chest and your blood thrumming within your ears, alongside the adrenaline roiling through your veins. He truly was an infuriatingly perfect man.   

You joined your voice to the shouts of encouragement rolling off the townspeople, in waves for their Warrior God just as Sylus brings an opponent down to his knees with a violent sweep of his knee to his torso.   

“Enough!” You hear the squeaked, enraged bellow of the Magistrate as he watches the proceedings with an increasingly incensed face. Whipping his reddening face towards the crowd to shake a threatening fist at them. “Quiet down before I have you all thrown into the dungeons!”   

But the townsfolk refuse to relent; their cheers rising to a deafening roar as the Magistrate nearly tumbles out of his seat to thrust a trembling finger at the ring as Sylus tosses another of his men over his shoulder to taste the ground at his feet . The attendants at his side scamper towards the arena at once. A quick, urgent rush of communication seems to pass in between the attendants and Sylus’s remaining opponents. Before the servants are tossing weapons into the ring, ones the cronies lunge for as soon as they hit the field. Rising slow once more as they brandish their newly obtained unfair advantage at an unarmed Sylus.  

A great wave of shock and indignance passes over the crowd just as you push past the row of onlookers to jostle yourself to the very front. “Hey! This was not among the rules!” You shout at the Magistrate. A sentiment the rest of the crowd joins you in mirroring but all it earns you is an insouciant shrug from the bastard, shedding any remaining responsibility of hosting a fair fight against Sylus. “And the rules didn’t indicate the participants were not allowed the use of tools at their disposal either. The opposing party’s principal should’ve brought his own if he wished for one, as well.”  

“That’s not—” Your voice breaks in agonised distress just as the Magistrate turns away from you entirely to press his rotund body back into the comfort of his seat to watch his laid-out massacre once more. Son of a cur.   

“Sylus!” You try and yell for his attention amongst the horrified cries of the crowd. “ Sylus, you don’t have to fight anymore! Get out of there, now! Sylus . ”  

His gaze sweeps over the mass of spectators for that one split moment, as if foraging for yours. Until it seems to find and fixate upon you, his mouth forming slow shape over words you cannot hear but understand on instinct, “Stay right there.”  

Your heart leaps and slams violent against the back of your breastbone with the crowd’s rising screams, just as a hefty brute lunges for Sylus; a battle axe heaved high above his head to strike a killing blow.   

The first cleave of the blade, Sylus avoids, to the tumbling pummel of your frenzied nerves. The man’s fervent swings, he dodges left and right. Avoiding another enemy’s assault with a dagger aimed straight for his gut; Sylus streaks the side of his palm flat onto his wrist in a hit vicious enough, the knife goes flying out of his grasp to stick, hilt-up, useless onto the ground. Before Sylus pummels a heavy fist into the assailant’s face, plastering him down onto the ground.   

The metallic chains of a flail come streaking for him, just as he side-steps past another heavy swing of the axe, catching the iron fetters of it harsh against his wrist. He ducks close into the enemy, manoeuvring the momentum of his attack into his own advantage, to wrench the man harsh into the fist he rams straight into his gut. Tumbling him sideways into the ground, unconscious.  

The bulldozing axe wielding maniac, now in close proximity, careens straight for Sylus on a fervent bellow, sweeping a blow straight for his head. Sylus seizes his last standing opponent’s assault against the strength of a muscled forearm. Catching the brunt of the axe’s hilt at it before he shoves back on a ferocious, inhuman show of force.   

Sylus, your heart hammers, lips forming shape over the syllables of his name in urgent prayer.   

The momentum of the wide, stone blade pushed back in such violence, sends the wielder staggering back with the weight of it; Sylus turning that precious moment of weakness to his benefit as he lunges straight for his neck, seizing it within a thick fist. The core muscles of his arm, rippling with the force with which Sylus hauls him off his feet entirely to drive the man down onto the ground with a vicious snarl.   

The combatant stops moving immediately, knocked out cold on the dirt; Sylus rising slow onto his feet as he stares at the man, chest heaving with the efforts of his strenuous exertion.   

A grave’s quietude slumps across the gathered crowd for several, tense moments.   

And then shatters into raucous chaos as the Conqueror of the duel is cheered to the high heavens; Sylus’s grin, wide and daunting, as he shifts off his fallen opponent, scrubbing a large hand back through sweat soaked locks as he starts ambling over toward the edge of your side of the arena.   

And your heart — your silly little heart — soars from its place within your chest and out for him, the high of his victory, as if it were your own, throbbing brutal within your blood.   

Before you know or comprehend it, your legs are moving; pushing past the crowds of onlookers, the wooden slates of your sandals skidding at dirt, as you fly across the ring toward Sylus. Your gaze entirely filled with your brilliant warrior’s expression shifting into surprise as you hurtle into him. And Sylus — that big, beautiful man understands — catches your careening body within his embrace; your momentum, he breaks against a half-swivel about his heel. Large, warm arms come tight about your body, wordless, without a question uttered, to seclude you further into that private space; just for you both in that moment.   

Your arms stretching about the thick expanse of his neck as you hold on hard to him; Sylus’s low exhale you feel warm gently, into the crescent of your neck as he sinks into you. The people, his duel; none of it matter when you embrace him this close against you, the adrenaline of your unbound joy, his impressive triumph settling into your thundering heart, you feel pressed against him.   

His soft, heavy laughter curls pleasant into your ears. “To the victor go the spoils, I guess.” He breathes. “Although this treasure seems particularly eager on jumping into my arms herself.”   

“Of course I am.” You press yourself away from him enough to afford yourself a proper survey of his face. “Gods, you were brilliant. Thank you, Sylus.”   

His thumb brushes just beneath your eye; a slow, testing touch. His gaze simmers in unusual, unexpected gentleness that siphons the breath from your lungs. “You need never thank me for anything, sweetheart, let alone this. I do not want it.”   

Your own relief blooming into a smile, but before you can respond; an unpleasant, harsh voice fractures through the air — the Magistrate seething and raging as he makes his way over to you both, an army of guards right behind. Clearly, the man could not stomach a sore loss; rabid fire and venom within his gaze as he trudges toward you, screaming obscenities.   

“Step back for a bit, kitten.” And you obey without further prompting, granting Sylus a wide berth for whatever he plans on doing.   

He doesn’t spare a moment longer before he’s striding forward, snatching one of the Magistrate’s unconscious minions off the ground. Hoisting him high up by the scruff of his neck. The Magistrate’s steps stagger just then at Sylus’s mad display, perhaps sensing the disaster he’s called upon him.   

But it’s far too late. “Here, have a present from all of Lungtang, Sire.” Sylus tows his arm back, wide, and aims — to the scurrying cries of the Magistrate — before he violently hurls the man in hand, right at the waddling official, bowling him and half his guards over like a stack of gambling plaques.   

“Sylus.” You gasp at his insane spectacle.  

Before the corrupt, toppled lot can even think to get their bearings back, Sylus is strolling back toward you; a quick flourish of a large hand thrown over his shoulder, in signal. “Take care of them,” he instructs out loud.   

A swarm of dark clad men melt away, on his sole command, from the crowds, to pack around the Magistrate and his men, blotting their figures entirely out of your sight. “Come on.” Sylus’s voice fractures through your reverie, his frame crowding your field of vision.   

“Whe— aah!” A hefty arm swoops beneath the back of your legs, sending frantic fingers scrabbling for purchase against the strength of Sylus’s shoulders as he hoists you up against his body. “What’re you doing?” 

He flashes a devious grin up at you, completely at odds against the bewildered shock you know is wide across your face. “Time to get out of here, sweetheart,” is all he offers in response before he’s sweeping you away from the pandemonium he’s wrought and the boisterous crowd; discarding all of that well-earned glory behind.   

The throng of on-goers tapers out the farther you get on to the road winding away from the arena; curious and awed looks alike garnered your way: at your position, and at the man — the infamous Onychinus head — who strolls easy through the streets of Lungtang, in possession of the strange woman he carries snug on the crook of an arm.  

A flush creeping hot up your face the longer this spectacle goes on until Sylus’s pace — thank the Gods above — dwindles to a halt. “This should be far enough.”   

“Yes, thank you. Put me down now.” Tapping fraught fingers against his shoulders in emphasis. Sylus raises a sculpted brow at you but relents, nonetheless. He steps past the mouth of the nearest back-street, well clear of people, before he helps you down onto your feet.   

You lean a hand across his arm, taking a moment to scramble your bearings back.   

“The brief walk back has you this out of breath, huh?” You turn a half-hearted frown at his mild ribbing; the man barely having broken a sweat himself, for having carried you all the way down here.   

“I wasn’t the one who asked you to lug me the entire way, you know,” you return.   

“What can I say, sweetheart? I’m rather protective of my treasures being made to rot too long among the grime.” He gently pinches your cheek in between thick, tapered digits; voice descending to a softer baritone. “And I won, as promised.” Long, tapered fingers skim heat across the angle of your cheekbone. “So, you’ll give me a pass this once, won’t you?”  

Vivid scarlet flitters in inscrutable emotion to witness you cup careful palms about his own, as he touches you.   

“You also pulled that insane stunt with that sleaze of a magistrate at the end there. I don’t know how you plan on getting out of that one,” you point out, but there is no actual heat to your accusation.  

He exhales a half-laugh. “That’s probably long taken care of.” Stroking the fall of your hair back against your ear. “No one will come after you now.”  

You step closer to him. “You do know I’m capable of worrying about you too, right? I’m not heartless.” His mouth quirks at your peeved admission. “...You’re important to me Sylus.”  

A streak of something akin to surprise fulgurates for a moment’s notice within that garnet gaze, at your confession.   

Your fingers trek a steady path against the painted beads of your necklace dangling at his chest. “Although I do hope you’ll never pull something like this on my behalf, ever again.” He'd brought it back to you, safe and unscathed, just as he’d said — a vow made, he had honoured.   

Relief was still warm within your chest, along with the turbulence of long nursed vexing emotions, brought forth to the surface — for a man you’d known for almost half your life — by the day’s sequence of events. “I don’t think my heart could handle it.” You huff out a soft laugh.   

An inscrutable emotion streaks across Sylus’s face, too quick to pick apart until it retreats entirely once more.   

“Unfortunately for you,” long, tapered digits sweep about yours at his chest, capturing your hand steady within his grip. “that’s not a pledge I can offer you.” His whisper is low, throaty as it settles against you and you realize the sudden proximity of your positions.   

His striking face is all that floods your vision. His gaze flickers from yours, down toward the bow of your parted lips — a remiss on his part, you can tell from how it rolls back swift to catch your eyes once more. If you did not know any better, you might’ve almost thought he meant to lean further and—  

But was it really the mad conjuring of your mind and a reluctantly hopeful heart that wished to see what it thought it did? Or had you been this obtuse on purpose all along?   

Your brow knits in consternation; this far removed from the persistent babbling of voices — your anxieties, the people, his duel, your uncertain fates at the time — and sequestered within the quiet alley; your roiling thoughts are loud and insistent.   

“And why’s that, Sylus?” You ask quietly.  

The skewed pull of his mouth is devastatingly beautiful even in its lack of mirth, this up close. “I think you know the answer to that, sweetheart. Or are you going to pretend otherwise?” His thumb strokes its gentle path across your knuckles — lighting an incendiary course — your hand still placed firm at his chest. “Whatever your choice, however, know it has always been yours to make.”  

The muted, steady beats of his heart beneath your palm seem to thrum past the sensitive pads of your digits as they skim a line past his pectorals, and up your body, warming it from the inside out.   

You swallow against the surge of a nervous fever that takes you all at once; ploughing past that pluck of anxiety at your chest, to bet your entirety on the one gamble you’re about to make.   

“Come to think of it.” Pink tongue slinks past a mouth parched, to trek a slow path across your bottom lip, end to end; the intolerable burning intensity of Sylus’s scarlet gaze scouring each single motion, sending your light-headedness thrumming higher. “You haven’t truly won yet, have you, Sylus?”   

“What?” He exhales heavily. His breathing has quickened just a snick higher, you notice, underneath your feathering ministrations. You’re fascinated by how he sounds much short of breath in this one instant than he did throughout the entirety of that match. The fact sending a deluge of warm pride and desire threading through your heart.   

“A winner is only one when he has been crowned as such, and received his dues.” You clarify, shifting closer against him.   

Stretching up on the balls of your feet until you’re a mere hair’s breadth from his face. “You however, have yet to claim your prize.” Sweeping forward until your lips are skimming against his in a tentative, testing brush of kiss — your hammering thoughts of uncertainty, of whether he wants this too, swiped clean with the soft, guttural choke of sound that slips past Sylus’s lips at your brazen initiative. And before you can bask under the simmering warmth of what that sound does to you, Sylus is curving a large palm firm within the thread of your locks, wrenching your mouth back against his in a bruising, fervid kiss.  

Eager fingers skitter at the strength of his shoulders to ground yourself against the sudden, pleasurable onslaught just as he captures your waist within the ironed grip of an arm. Almost lifting you up entirely against him until you’re suspended barely at the tips of your toes.   

His grunts are warm against the inside of your mouth as his tongue skims past the easy access of your parted lips to taste you against himself. The wet muscle sliding against yours before he sucks it into his own mouth on an approving groan of desire.   

You're nearly nerveless by the time he parts from you on a wet stretch of sound, barely enough distance, his breath cascades hot against your damp lips with each guttural word, keying you higher. “This is getting a bit too dangerous, kitten. I suggest we stop here if you don’t wish to reach a point of no-return.”  

“No. No,” Your hands flit in fervent frenzy from the stretch of his shoulders to bunch into the thick silver weave of his hair. “We don’t ever need to stop. I want this, I want you, if you do too.” Your mouth descending back against his in the dizzy crush of lips and tongue, Sylus’s groans of pleasure you drink down against your own moan.  

“There hasn’t been a single moment where I haven’t desired you, sweetheart.” He whispers in harsh breaths into the pocket of space you allow him in between your kisses. “You’re the one who said it now. So, brace yourself.”   

A hand you skim down the thick length of his neck, grazing at the base of his hair to support yourself against the large arms that cage your waist to lift until he’s driving you both back against the wall of the narrow alleyway, shrouding you deeper into shadows.   

His kiss of gentle affection skids past the cut of your cheek, so at odds against the fierce brunt of his arousal you feel grinding into your belly. You buck against the touch just as Sylus eases you down, only enough you’re on your feet now; bodies still moulded tight against the shape of each other.   

His mouth continues its work of feathering kisses across the curve of your cheek, down the delicate line of your jaw. His hips stroking against yours in gentle motions, sending the roll of his hard length against your stomach each time he guides you against himself, having you squirm in roiling pleasure, helpless against the insistence of his mouth and pelvis. Meeting his body with yours in the reflexive buck of your hips against his.   

The elongated stretch of your skirt, sending a mild frisson of frustration through your nerves to feel the restriction of your movements against his. Groaning in soft defeat against Sylus’s mouth over yours, just as he cups a large hand about the angle of your pelvis. Caressing past the flare of your behind, rucking up the fabric within a tight fist to slide it, far too slow, up your legs.   

A final brush of temporary farewell he kisses against your drenched lips before he descends, unhurried, down the length of your body; scarlet gaze refusing to relent from yours for even a single measured moment of mercy. A thick palm he traces, appreciative, down the curves of you as he pitches on to his knees.   

Thumb warming its touch against the edge of a knee, your skirts bunched at the hand fastened about your leg as it caresses a slow, sensual path up higher. The glorious sight he is, down on his knees in between the willing split of your legs; undoing in its entirety — you shudder at the devastation he brings upon you when his fingers hone their target upon the cloth of your underwear at your hip. Skating a delicate path against the knot of it before his index slips underneath it to tug undone.   

Wresting your underwear away entirely on his next sharp tug before he sweeps the mortifyingly damp cloth away from your body and under his nose for a long, obscene inhale. “You smell sweet, kitten. So much of this pretty nectar, all for me... I admit I’m more than a little flattered.” The skew of his devious smirk pulls wider at your choked sound of pleasure to witness him swipe your underwear down against his back, and pocket into the satchel at his belt.   

“Sylus,” you reprimand half-heartedly, in distressed urgency.   

“The victor takes it all, does he not? These are my spoils to have now, kitten.” His large palms are back at the skin of your legs, skimming a dizzying, scorching path up the quiver of your thighs. “Just as you are, the treasure I snatched for myself.”  

“Let me indulge in my private feast, quietly now.” He baits in heated whispers, jaw falling open as he disappears in between the heavy folds of your skirt and — Heaven help you — the sound that scrapes raw past your throat to feel the tease of his broad tongue against your drenched slit, is unlike any you’ve ever heard before. The high-pitched squeal you cut off in the hasty wrench of your bottom lip into your mouth, heated desire clouding your swimming vision to tamp down your moans of arousal, lest any passers-by, just a few feet away from your shadowed alcove, spot the indecency of your display.   

Thoughts drifting into emptiness — musing absent at how self-conscious you’d been while Sylus had carried you within his arms all the way out here; fully clothed then. And yet, here you were now, with your skirts bunched high up against your pelvis with that very same man’s wonderful tongue shoved deep inside you.  

The hot pads of Sylus’s index and middle you feel skim against the tight bead of pleasure at your apex, just as the point of his tongue seeps in at your entrance, sending your hips stuttering into his steeled grip, fast at your pelvis.   

You clamp a palm shut tight against your tapering moans, unable to smother them within yourself any longer. The heated plumes of your own breath crowding back against you with each shivered moan Sylus forces out of you.  

His mouth brushes about the length of your folds, the bow of his upper lip bumping gentle at your tight bundle of nerves. Before he closes it within the searing heat of his mouth, sucking at your increasingly swollen flesh.   

Sylus draws at the drenched slick of you like a man intent on devouring you whole, the thought drives your pleasure higher along with the rising euphoria bubbling within your body. A curious thumb parts your inner folds wider to admit the broad of his tongue deep into your slit. Your walls spasming against the breach of it as your hips judder down against the strength of his jaw.  

“You’re close, aren’t you sweetheart? You can keep up a little longer.” His smothered encouragement, the vibrations of his thick voice right against your slit send you tumbling higher upon that precipice of sweet release.   

The added, ruinous excitement of not being able to see him past the abundant frill of your skirts blazes you higher; the sole nervous anticipation of not knowing where he’d touch you next has you gushing on his tongue.   

A low, soft curse you hear spill guttural against your folds, vibrating straight up into your womb, “You’re practically weeping on my tongue, sweetheart. I like that.” Your answering moan you bury into a bite of your sleeve as you fold your arm about your face; a full body quiver long having taken you. You no longer hold control over yourself. “Grind down on my face, relax yourself. Yes, there’s my good girl now.”  

The praise having your walls grip hard at the fingers he’s worked into you now. Propelling them at an indolent, maddening pace into your depths.  

“Sylus,” you pant harshly, mind numbing into a crescendo. “I don’t — hah — can’t — much longer.” Begging for a release so, so close at hand.  

“Then don’t . Let yourself go.” His groans muted against the wet heat of you. “I’ll catch you when you fall.”   

The crook of his middle and ring fingers up into you has you spasming against the intrusive stretch of them. Opening you up deeper; the deft pads of them scrounge up a spot against your frontal walls that has your mouth flying open on a silent scream, head falling back against the unyielding brick of the alley as your fluttering insides clamp down violent against his adroit handling of you. “Right here, is it?” You think you hear his muted whispers spill throaty against the sensitive expanse of your thigh.   

Right at the junction of your hip as Sylus sinks a bite into the pliant flesh just as his thick fingers rub up against that same weak spot inside to have you disintegrating into senselessness right above him.  

You can’t fathom how he’s brought you to such complete devastation in just a few, nimble strokes of his tongue and fingers into you, against you. Never having been dragged this fast or good to the precipice by your own hand, let alone another’s. He’s away each layer of defence, piece by excruciating piece, having worked you open so thoroughly as if he knew your body like his own.  

Truly a man that sought relentless victory even in between the fall of your legs.   

And it is only when that pleasure point is one keyed far too high, with the incessant press of his third finger up into your walls, stretching you open — so incredibly full of just his digits alone — does your body fall. No longer capable of protecting yourself against the battering deluge of a release so consuming, your knees buckle underneath the hefty intensity of his ministrations.   

Sylus’s large hand, you feel warm about your rump, to curve its easy support about it, as he presses his face further into you. Waves upon waves of pleasure, drowning your keening cries against your well-abused bottom lip. A faint frisson of overstimulation stringing you higher to gain enough conscious thought back to catch his low, guttural growl searing harsh at your drenched folds, at the sensation of you gushing all over his tongue.  

You quiver in nerveless arousal to feel the fleeting brush of his kiss farewell against your slit before he rises, slow, onto his feet once more. Your body clenches in on instinctual need to catch sight of his face once more. The slick that glimmers obscenely copious across his mouth and down the strength of his jaw, the untamed, almost bestial intensity to that barely tamped heat within scarlet, as Sylus sweeps a careful thumb against your wetness has you unfurling trembling digits forward to snag around his neck, dragging him down against yourself.  

Consuming the ferocity of his kiss just as eagerly in the tongue you lap at his lips, slipping along the angle of his jaw; moaning softly at the taste of you that clings still to him. Restless fingers steal in between your bodies to reach for the arousal that strains delectable and intimidating against his trousers.  

Flittering your digits about the catch of them as you work them open enough along with the thick fingers that aid you to release him free for your hungry gaze. Your audible gasp of pleasure Sylus captures against the pad of his thumb edging just past the part of your lips.  

He’s incredibly blessed, bigger, girthier than any you’ve ever had before. The prospect of taking that thing inside your body simultaneously terrifies and excites you.  

Your dazed musings Sylus fractures in the cup of your jaw in between firm, gentle digits. “Nervous?”   

“...A bit,” you admit. Adding for good measure, “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”  An expectant hand you move to curve about the breadth of him to make your point — fingers barely able to cup entirely about him.  

Sylus’s laughter is a low, heavy burst of sound. “Don’t worry, kitten.” He reaches down to join his fingers against yours in languidly stroking the length of him. Coasting in close to your ear as he lays a kiss of dark, hoarse promise against it, “I’ll teach you to do more than just handle it.”  

Your pleased moan you throttle against his quick, vehement kiss as Sylus gathers the folds of your skirt up to bunch about your hips. Fitting himself into the space he makes, his arousal glancing hot against your outer labia; feeling him so close to where your body clenches in on tense anticipation.   

He withdraws from you on a wet slip of tongue, seizing your gaze within his. The firm fist he strokes at his length guiding the flared, slick head of him against your folds to lubricate in your wetness, bumping pleasant at your sensitive bead of nerves on each indolent stroke.  

You buck your hips up against his in an impatient scratch of throaty sound. Slipping the head of him so close against your slit, it almost makes you dizzy with need.  

You are not, however, prepared truly for the actual breach of him as he splits you open in pleasure so blinding, it streaks right against your tender bead and up deep into your belly. Sylus’s guttural groans brand hot against the crescent of your neck in overwhelmed desire, a muted swear swallowed into the bite of teeth he presses into it. “Relax yourself a little, kitten, you’ve gone too tight on me.”  

You try, you truly do as you smother past your burning need to scream, for breaths to claw into your lungs; he feels too much, too good all at once, your body incapable of doing much else except accepting the slow propulsion of him deeper into your walls.

He feels almost too much for you to handle, spearing you open so far around him you didn’t even think yourself capable of such a feat. And yet, the copious arousal that slicks in between your bodies, with the voracious clench of your walls around the hard strength of him, sucking him inside, speaks volumes. Of how you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being impaled upon his length.  

“More,” you pant; the slow thrusts of his hips up into yours sending your lashes flittering shut, in overwhelming euphoria and need. “I need more, Sylus.”  

He grunts in acknowledgment, large hands fixing hot fetters of flesh against either side of your pelvis as he thrusts into you, each swollen stroke of his arousal sending him impossibly deep, until you feel it may truly reach your womb.  

Sylus heaves himself closer into you, nearly pinning you against the wall with the sheer strength of his towering body, the heavy pumping of his hips into you, sending euphoria skating through your veins. Intoxicated on feeling the way he moves within you.  

A hand drifts up from your hip to grip at the flare of your waist beneath cloth as Sylus manoeuvres your body to thrust into you at an angle that drives him hard against your swollen spot of pleasure inside.   

Your hands fly in agonized frenzy to clutch at his arms, his shoulders as you grapple with the blinding pleasure he’s carving into your body. His head skews downward to catch the sensitive flesh of your neck in between the bite of restive teeth, a low moan wrenched free of your throat. His mouth strokes down the length of your skin until he teeths at the fastenings of your collar, wrenching violent at the buttons before he scatters them apart. Mouth engulfing the exposed slope of your clavicle in fervid groans.  

Your fingers skitter for purchase into the silver brush of hair at the base of his neck, tugging harsh with his increasingly heavy pace. A low whine clambering past your throat when his grip upon your body tightens once more in purpose, dragging his length to the near tip of him before he rams back into you on a guttural snarl so primal, it has you violently spasming about his thick shaft, your vision blanking in for a moment.  

Sylus’s face is a flood of savage bliss and heated concentration — the sight along with his pleasurably punishing thrusts into your walls — has your heart nearly trying to rip past the bruising beat of it at your breastbone. Hips meeting his in stuttering thrusts as your body bows up, sharp, toward him to chase a height of euphoria so in sight.  

“You’re moaning so loud, kitten.” His throaty chuckle stirs weighty into your belly. “Keep that up and you’ll draw us an audience.” Gnawing weakly at your bottom lip to instinctively tamp your sounds just as Sylus moves to drive into you on a particularly ruinous, deliberate thrust that has your legs buckling entirely underneath you.   

But he’s there to catch you, thick forearms cording about the feeble, trembling plush of your thighs before he hoists you up entirely onto him; his hushed chuckle drifting into guttural laughter. “Why try being quiet on your own when you can just make use what you have at your disposal?” His lips drive against yours in a vehement kiss of teeth and tongue, devouring you, just the way he is in between your legs. You let yourself go at last, moaning unabated into the searing warmth of his mouth, Sylus’s pace turning to near-frenzied rutting, with the sounds he wrenches from your bruised throat.  

He forces you deeper against the wall, spearing you helpless in between the cool stone at your back and the unforgiving intensity of his drilling thrusts pillaging your body. Golden deep pleasure roiling pleasant just beneath your skin, to push at the confines, until you feel like you could float out of it heavenward and never return to the ground.  

Your fevered gaze snags against the painted beads of your gifted charm about his neck, swinging vehement with the force of his propulsions. Drifting absent fingers against the worn orbs of the necklace, mushed mind admiring how truly lovely he looks like this for you; coupled along with that tight knit of concentrated pleasure, it makes you believe he truly is all yours to have. As if he belongs to you, with you.   

That sole, deranged thought sending arousal thrumming within, so blinding, your body quivers into the tight curve of a crescent, pressing hard against his chest, a peak so close, you can feel it stirring vicious into your belly. “You’re all mine to have, aren’t you? My great warrior,” you gasp against his mouth, trembling fingers sweeping for the broad strength of his shoulders as your nails drive in, harsh.

Sylus’s response; groaned heavy against your tongue, without hesitation. “You’ve always had me in my entirety, sweetheart.”  

Your body has wholly given up — a leaden weight — within his grasp, held together only by the strength of Sylus’s arms curving steeled grips about your thighs. Pounding into you with each fervid roll of his hips slapping against the back of your thighs — the profuse flow of your arousal sweltering in between your already burning bodies, the obscene squelch of it each time he withdraws from your walls only to drive back in with savage, terrifying accuracy, rutting himself so good against the spot inside that has you quivering uncontrollably around the length of him.  

Your combined sultry symphony so loud within your ears, drumming along with the thundering of your heart, you’re sure any passers-by crossing the mouth of the alley would be able to hear. Your cotton-fed mind so far gone, however, you’re no longer coherent enough to care about anyone hearing your claims upon each other’s bodies. So deeply entrenched in the sole existence of Sylus: his body, tongue, his bruising grip upon you, you love so much — scoring stinging crescents as your own signs of victory, across the broad strength of his shoulders, down the firm muscle of his arms, serving to drive him only harder into you until he’s knocking half-screams out of your throat. Swallowing them up against the hungry sweep of his tongue.  

Sylus’s thrusts into your body have turned erratic, his guttural moans heating your skin into a blazing furnace. You’re so close to release, you can feel the heavy crest of its deluge approaching — golden and ruinous.  

His grip upon the flare of your hip shifts, pressing you impossibly deeper against him, the new angle driving the length of him against your sensitive bundle of nerves on each hammering thrust. “A-Almost—” Gasping a breathless warning.  

Hurtling you so high; the frenzied pump of his hips into yours, the constant stimulation at your swollen bead sending your walls spasming so violent, you feel Sylus loose a long, guttural groan deep into your mouth. You tumble off the precipice of release just as you feel the first thick spurts of his seed searing fire against your sensitized walls; Sylus’s sultry growls keying your frenzied release so high your fingers scrape across the back of his neck to tug him harsh against your mouth. Sinking your quivering, heated desires into a vehement bite at his chest, Sylus’s digits weaving tight into your hair at the back of your head, to hold you there.  

His thundering pulse you moan against in appreciation, laving absent to soothe the reddening bite at his skin, as your body convulses with the still flowing spurts of his release, stroking at the intoxicating fever of your prolonged orgasm, filling you to the brim and over; the warmth of it you feel drip past your folds and onto his sturdy thighs.  

Taking several, long much needed moments to compose yourself as your sweat-slick face falls, nerveless, to press your cheek against the damp expanse of his chest, body still suspended firm upon the corded strength of his arms, his cock nestled snug and thick within you.  

You claw a much-needed gulp of air past a throat, long sore. “...I fear you may have to carry me here on out, as well, Sylus, because I certainly can’t move an inch right now.”  

His amused chuckle drifts warm against the top of your head. “While joined together just like this?” He teases softly. “You may truly pass out of sheer embarrassment this time if I do, kitten.”  

“Doesn’t matter,” you quip right back, half-hearted, canting a languid gaze up his way. “I think I’ll be long knocked out before any pesky shame kicks in, from how good this — you were.”  

You feel Sylus’s length twitch within your walls at your words, groaning quietly at the growing strain of his arousal, back to half-mast already. Truly, was there a limit to the man’s enduring stores of stamina?  

But perhaps, the real question was of your own insatiable appetite too, when it came to him, as you were only newly discovering — your wrecked body responding in the muted burn of arousal, kindling into slow fire within your belly, clenching weakly at him.  

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Sylus’s skewed grin tucks against your ear as he nuzzles at your cheek.  “I’ll carry you out of here in my arms, as you wish, without the additional parade of our naked bodies. In return,” A kiss he feathers, against the angle of your cheekbone. “Come home with me.”  He asks of you, softly.

You bury your approval in the nudge of your nose against him, catching his lips against yours in a gentle, chaste kiss, “Sounds like a done deal to me, my handsome warrior.”  

End Notes: Thank you for reading! This was a very fun indulgence and I hope everyone who bagged Sylus’ card enjoyed his soft card story.

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[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Falling Asleep on Them

Lucifer

*deep sigh that speaks volumes to how difficult it is for this man to get any sleep, and here you are, conked out on his shoulder...*

If you don't wake up within a few minutes, he'll have no choice but to move. He is not the sort to be so sentimental that he can't bear the thought of disturbing your precious sleeping face. Of course, he won't be an asshole about it; he'll be careful and try not to wake you up. He might even drape his jacket over you for your nap.

But only if he doesn't need it.

Mammon

"Hey, my arm's gettin' a little stiff, can I just-- ...ah."

Oh. Ah. Alright. Cool. This is happening. Hmm. Damn. Not super comfortable, and it's kinda inconvenient to be trapped here, but, pshh, what's he supposed to do, wake up a sleeping human? He's heard that can lead to...cardiac arrest, or something. He ain't gonna murder you just to move a little sooner.

You did not just start snuggling him in your sleep. Did Mammon score today or did he score today? Too bad his arm's starting to fall asleep, but, well, nothin' in life is free.

Leviathan

"What...? WHAAAAAAT?" (But only in his brain. He doesn't want to wake you up. Mammon says that can lead to cardiac arrest in humans.)

He's pretty sure he's the one who's going to keel over from heart problems at this rate. He hadn't even realized you were getting sleepy. Are you bored watching him tackle this single-player old school RPG? Did you hate it all this time and you never even mentioned it?! Why is your face so close?! Do you not have any idea the kind of mental torture you're putting him through right now?!

Deep breaths, Levi. Deep breaths. This happens in anime all the time. It's...usually a good thing! It means that the main character and their love interest are tripping all the right flags, and... and how long is this scene going to last? Those scenes almost always end with the two still on the couch, then they skip to the next day or something. How long is he going to have to just sit here... suffering...?

After about ten minutes, he's reached his limit and he gently shakes you awake. He is so embarrassed that he insists you go to bed now, and he will not take no for an answer. Good night. Goodbye. *door slams*

AAAAHHHHHHHHH.

Satan

"Hm? Have you been getting enough sleep...?"

Satan would be very pleased with the situation, though probably less intensely excited than Mammon. He'll make whatever small adjustment is necessary for his comfort, then settle in and read for as long as it takes you to wake up. He feels very warm and fuzzy. It's nice. Hopefully you do this more often. But he should really ask you about your sleep schedule. Levi must be forcing you to stay awake too often.

Asmodeus

"Aww, aren't you adorable?"

This is precious. He needs to document it. As soon as he realizes what's happening, he'll carefully pull out his D.D.D., making sure not to wake you up, and start snapping pics. A few of you, a few dozen selfies with you, a few with him pretending to be asleep too, and then a perfect shot of him kissing your forehead. Grammable as fuck.

Er... is that drool he can see in one of those photos? ...You're going to have to wake up. You can't just drool on his brand-name jacket.

Beelzebub

"Oh."

He's used to people falling asleep on him, so this doesn't really throw him for much of a loop. However, he's a bit more careful of waking you up. He knows that if he wakes Belphie, he'll just fall back asleep within a few seconds, but you're not quite so adaptable. So he'll do his best to stay quiet and not move much.

But no matter how hard he tries, he's never going to be able to turn off his stomach. You'll probably wake up with a start as his stomach roars at you about twenty inches from your face.

Belphegor

"...zzzz..."

Who are we kidding, we all know he was asleep first. Probably, he's the reason you fell asleep so easily. He's soft and warm, perfect for drifting off to dreamland...

Diavolo

"Very bold! You really are astonishingly brave."

It's not every day someone has the stones to fall asleep in his presence, let alone fall asleep and use him as some sort of glorified pillow. What a nice change of pace.

He'll continue doing whatever it is he was doing before, but he is a busy demon, running the Devildom and all. He'll slowly and carefully extricate himself when it's time to move, then have Barbatos bring you a blanket and prepare some tea for when you wake up.

Barbatos

"Humans are awfully needy creatures, aren't they."

He can't help but chuckle. You just pass out during the middle of the day? Then again, it's possible you're probably not entirely well. He'll have to disturb the young master to ask what sort of accommodations to make for you. Of course, he's sure Diavolo won't mind. But it's irresponsible to let yourself drift off like this in the castle of the king of the demons, isn't it? This isn't a resort.

Sleep well, human.

Solomon

"You're just looking cute on purpose now, aren't you?"

Oh well! Looks like he's stuck here for now. Too bad. He'll smile, put an arm around you, kick his feet up, and settle in for the long haul. Hopefully you're able to get a good, solid nap in.

Most likely, you both will. He'll pass out too within ten minutes, give or take.

Simeon

"Oh- shh. There, there."

Well, if you aren't adorable... You must be so tired. He's glad you feel so at ease with him that you let yourself fall asleep, and you certainly look cute, but he's also a little concerned that you're this tired. He'll patiently wait for you to wake up. Then he'll make you some tea and gently remind you to take better care of your health.

Luke

"Eh...?! Hey! ...WAKE UP!"

How tired are you?! You need to get better sleep! Sheesh, you need to be more careful too. You almost crushed him.

[hopefullhearts]

Sickeningly Sweet [Scott Miller x Reader - Twisters]

summary: You are Tyler Owens' childhood best friend and member of his storm chasing crew. A storm outbreak means you and the gang cross paths with Storm Par on more than one occasion, and your sweet southern charm drives Scott crazy (in more than one way).

content warnings: somewhat heated kissing, no use of y/n, light name-calling/teasing, not proofread/bad writing (I have not written a fanfic in forever), bad taste in candy, & i think that is all!

word count: 3.5k

a/n: I have not written or posted on tumblr in SO long but I saw Twisters for the glenn powell craze and left with a scott/david corenswet obsession and these thoughts must come out of my head.

Shoutout to @hederasgarden and @sailor-aviator for leading the charge for the Scott girlies. All of their writings and drabbles inspired me to write this one, so check them out!

If people like this I might do a smutty part 2! I don't mind writing smut I just feel like it's not very good hahaha but let me know what you think!

--

You heavily resented the idea that guys and girls could not just be friends, because you'd be damned if Tyler Owens wasn't the best friend you ever had.

You met on the playground in Kindergarten. A boy pushed you off a swing, Tyler defended your honor, and the rest was history.

Tyler's overprotective streak made you view him like the brother you never had, and that's how your relationship remained. He was family, and that was that.

Tyler had always been interested in tornadoes, more specifically, how to track and predict them. You, on the other hand, hated science, including weather, but you loved the thrill of the chase.

In college, you studied marketing while Tyler studied meteorology. So, when Tyler had the idea to start streaming his storm chases, you were right there with him to help grow his brand.

Tyler knows he would be stupid not to credit you with all his success. You set up his streaming account, you edited all the clips and drone footage to post to his social media after the fact, and you even gave him the idea for the "Tornado Wrangler" nickname.

Now that everything was off the ground, you mostly put together streaming highlights and designed the merch, but you were right there in the backseat for every single chase, soaking up all the thrills.

This particular storm outbreak was expected to be a big one, so the whole crew strapped in for a week of bad weather, cheap motel rooms, and of course, a few run-ins with other chasers, including the guys from Storm Par.

"Storm Par's here." You said, gesturing to the fleet of white vans parked at the gas station you had just pulled up to.

"Of course they are." Tyler sighed. "There's probably going to be a lot of damage done by these storms for them to swoop in on. Just ignore them."

"No, we should be polite." You chastised him. "I'm gonna go say hi. Will you get me a cherry coke please?"

Tyler fought back an eye-roll, but nodded with a smile as you both got out of the car. "Of course."

Like everyone else in the crew, the Storm Par guys got on your last nerve. They were all a bunch of Ivy League grads who thought a more expensive degree made them better than everyone else.

However, being raised by your Mama, the epitome of Southern grace and charm, you always put a smile on your face and treated them with kindness. You even occasionally brought them food or coffee if you ran into them in the aftermath of a storm.

And even though you were blissfully unaware of the fact, this drove Scott absolutely mad.

"Hi Scott, Javi." You said cheerfully to the two boys in charge.

Scott replied with a grunt, but Javi was quick to greet you with genuine enthusiasm. "Hey! How are you?"

"I'm doing well." You nodded, smoothing your hands over your athleisure skirt. "Excited for a good chase today. How about you guys?"

"Us too." Javi nodded. "We're hoping to finally get some solid data collection today."

"Ah." You nodded, unsure what to say. You hated the idea of what they were collecting data for, but Javi seemed like a nice enough guy, and Tyler ripped on them enough for the both of you.

"Something on your mind there, princess?" Scott finally spoke, glancing away from his tablet to look down on you (literally and figuratively).

You rolled your eyes. While you would normally love to be called a princess, it always sounded like an insult coming from Scott, his voice always laced with a touch of venom.

"No, nothing at all." You smiled. "Just wondering if we'll see you guys in the aftermath if there's any damage done?"

"Why? Are you looking to increase your t-shirt sales?"

You bit your tongue, doing your best to hold your composure and not let him get to you.

"Nope, just trying to figure out if we need to make some extra to-go boxes for you guys." You decided to focus your gaze on Javi instead, finding him less intimidating.

Javi opened his mouth to speak, but Scott beat him to the punch. "I think we can find food on our own, thanks."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Okay, well, the offer always stands if you change your mind."

Javi smiled and nodded. "As much as I want to see a good storm today, let's hope we don't have a ton of damage clean up."

You smiled. You knew he had a heart.

"That's something we both can agree on." You grinned. "Stay safe out there you guys!"

With that, you turned and walked away. Scott watched you go, your hair and skirt blowing side to side in the wind.

"Stay safe out there you guys." Scott mocked you under his breath.

"Yo, you don't always have to be a jerk to her, you know."

Scott gave him an unamused look. "She comes out here with her little boyfriend, selling his t-shirts and shit, and then skips over here like we're the best of friends with her thick southern accent. It's all fake."

"For one, I don't think Owens is her boyfriend." Javi corrected. "And two, I think she's just a genuinely nice person. She always says hello, even when everyone else in their crew ignores us like the plague."

"Whatever." Scott mumbled.

As you reached the truck, you took the ice-cold Coca-Cola bottle from Tyler's outstretched hand.

"Thank you!" You said excitedly, twisting the cap off to take a sip.

"How are dumb and dumber?" Tyler teased.

"Javi was nice." You informed him. "Scott was... there."

"Ah, yes." Tyler laughed. "Word on the street is he's a man of many words."

"Right." You agreed sarcastically. "But, when he does speak to me, he always calls me princess, and it drives me crazy."

"In what way?" Tyler said, failing to hold back a smirk.

It took you a moment to realize what he was implying, but when you did, you were mortified,

"Tyler Owens!" You gasped, your face flushing red with embarrassment.

""I'm just teasing you! You make it too easy." He laughed loudly. "In my defense, he looks like exactly like every boyfriend you've ever had."

Your face got even warmer, because he was exactly right. You had a weakness for tall, muscular, dark-haired men, and you especially loved a man who was a challenge.

"That is...irrelevant." You said, covering your face in your hands out of pure embarrassment.

Tyler held his hands up in surrender, as you rushed to talk about anything but Scott. "Let's just figure out what storm we're going after, you jerk." You insulted Tyler, but the smile on your face was ear to ear.

Scott watched the interaction from afar, and his chest twisted at your sickeningly sweet smile. Even if you weren't Owens' girlfriend, your closeness was evident. He ignored the burning feeling that was rising within him, not wanting to question why it was there in the first place.

Tornadoes were scary, but trying to understand how he felt about you? Terrifying.

"Alright, boss man, which storm are we chasing?" Javi pulled him out of his thoughts with a hand clapped on his shoulder, and he finally pulled his gaze away from your smile, the sound of your laughter fading into the background.

--

The storm was bad.

It hit a small town of about 3,000 people, and you estimated based on the initial damage scene that it was an EF3 at best, maybe even an EF4.

You were currently handing out anything that might be helpful to families who had been impacted by the tornado - blankets, water, heat lamps. pre-made sandwiches and cookies. You tried to offer them any comfort you could with a smile and hug, but you understood the devastation they felt all too well.

In the early days, you would try to help with the damage cleanup, but Tyler insisted that you stay back at the camper and talk to the families.

At first, you were insulted, and you thought that Tyler was insinuating you weren't strong enough to move heavy tree limbs or pieces of drywall. You finally asked him about it one day, and he laughed.

"Absolutely not!" He insisted. "You just have this energy around you that's calming, and these families need that. Your empathy and kindness are doing much more for them right now than cleaning up a bunch of rubble would."

You had never thought of it like that, but once Tyler pointed it out, it became your mission to be the solace that these families in crisis needed.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Mrs. Smith?" You asked, rubbing the arms of a middle-aged woman who you had been speaking to for a few minutes now.

"No, thank you." She sniffled. "I really appreciate you guys being here. God bless you."

You smiled, giving her another hug. "Please let us know if there's anything more we can do to help."

She nodded, walking away to join her family, who were staring at the remains of their house.

You pushed back tears, feeling silly that this never got any easier for you, but also focused on being the anchor that these folks needed.

Scott saw you before you saw him. He watched you from afar as you did your work. He watched you force a smile and hold these people as they cried. He also watched you look up to blink back the tears before taking a deep breath and moving on to the next.

And damn if it didn't drive him nuts.

This job is easier when he doesn't get involved with the people impacted. It's easier to pretend not to care. But watching you pour your heart out to strangers, just because it's the right thing to do? It made his heart jump, and that scared him.

Ignoring the people involved and ignoring his feelings for you had become increasingly more difficult with every chase.

"Scott!" You called, approaching him with a styrofoam container in your hand.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself as you literally bounced over to him.

How the hell does someone look this good after taking on a tornado?

"Here." You offered him the container. "It's just a ham and cheese sandwich and a cookie."

"I'm really not hungry." He responded.

"Seriously?" You asked, not buying it. "We've all been chasing since 10 AM and it's nearly 8, you have to be hungry."

Scott shrugged, trying to hold back the things he really wanted to say.

"Fine." You sighed. "We're right over here if you change your mind."

"Yeah, I know princess. It's hard to miss you being the town's savior over there."

Scott watched you visibly retract and he internally screamed as his heart dropped. You probably hated him, but it didn't matter anyway. You were far too sweet for him, so putting a wedge between the two of you seemed to be the smartest way to outrun his feelings.

"Wow." You spoke, your voice much smaller and shakier than usual. "I knew you were sarcastic and maybe even a little mean, but I never thought you were actually cruel. So, thanks, for enlightening me."

And with that, you turned and strutted off. This time, you failed to fight back the tears as you returned to the camper.

And to your horror, Tyler was there, taking a break from clean up for some water.

When Tyler sees you cry, his overprotective streak comes out instantly, and right now you didn't want to be protected, because you were so embarrassed that he finally got to you. You were even more embarrassed that you thought that just maybe, he might be a good person under that scowl and hard facade.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" Tyler rushed up to meet you.

You nodded, trying to stop sniffling. "I'm fine."

Tyler looked behind you to see Scott watching you closely, with a look that almost mimicked longing, and he quickly put two and two together.

"Let me handle this." He insisted.

You shook your head in protest. "No, Tyler, please, he thinks I'm a waste of time anyways, it's not worth it."

"Trust me, he doesn't," Tyler reassured you. "Let me handle this, and if it goes badly, I'll edit all the stream highlights for the next two weeks, okay?"

"Deal." You nodded.

You truly did trust him more than anyone in your life, so you opted to go inside the camper and dry up your tears while he went to speak to Scott. You would let Tyler handle it, but no way were you going to stand there and watch, looking like a puppy who just got kicked.

"Coming to defend your girlfriend's honor?" Scott said sarcastically, trying to mask any emotion he was feeling.

"Dude, seriously." Tyler glared at him. "If you want her attention being a complete and total asshole is not the way you get it."

"Is that what you think? That I want her 'attention'?" He said, framing the last word in air quotes.

"Yeah, I do." Tyler nodded. "I saw the look you gave her as she walked away."

"Okay, so what?" Scott shrugged. "You might be surprised to know I am human and I didn't mean to make her cry."

"Sure." Tyler nodded. "So, what about all the other times I've caught you staring at her, hm?"

Scott stayed silent, stunned speechless.

"Ah, you thought you were better at hiding it, didn't you?" Tyler said with a smug grin. "Every time we end up at the same gas station, restaurant, bar, or motel, your eyes follow her nearly the whole time. And don't even get me started on the holes you burn into my head when I'm talking to her."

"Alright, fine." Scott snapped angrily. "Here to rub it in my face then?"

Tyler sighed in frustration. "No."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to give you a piece of advice."

"Why?" Scott scoffed. "It's no secret that we aren't friends."

"I know her better than anyone else, do you want my help or not?" Tyler asked, his patience nearing its limit.

Scott didn't protest this time.

"Look, no matter what I think about you, you're pretty much exactly her type," Tyler said, much to Scott's surprise. "So if you want her, apologize and tell her how you feel."

"She's not going to feel the same, and she deserves much better than me." Scott retorted. "C'mon Owens, you know what we do. When she comes floating into these broken towns like a heaven-sent angel, I'm collecting data for the devil."

"That doesn't have to be a permanent problem." Tyler pointed out. "Plus, she likes a challenge, and she's definitely brave enough to think she can fix you."

That cracked a smile from both of them, followed by a moment of silence.

"218." Tyler said.

"What?"

"That's the room she's staying in tonight." Tyler said, starting to walk away. "Apologize."

Scott nodded, beginning to formulate a plan on how the hell he was going to get you to forgive him.

--

You were snug under your blanket in the motel room watching reruns of Modern Family when the knock came.

You sighed and got up, not bothering to check the peephole as you assumed it was just Tyler coming to talk about the day's events.

So when you opened the door to see Scott standing there, you couldn't be more surprised.

"What are you doing here?" You said quietly, nearly breathless at the sight of him.

It wasn't the first time you had seen him outside of that stupid Storm Par white jumpsuit, but it was the first time you had seen him in gray sweatpants and a tight black long-sleeve shirt that clung to his muscles in a way that you could only describe as sinful.

He towered over you, leaning against the frame of the doorway, and you nearly shuddered when you looked up to meet the intense gaze in his eyes.

"I brought you something. As an apology for being an ass earlier today."

"Oh, and what did you bring for all the other times?" You spat back, no longer in the mood to play nice with him.

"I deserve that." He sighed. "Can I come in?"

"Depends." You responded, and he raised an eyebrow. "What did you bring me?"

He handed you a plastic bag, and you opened it to find a Cherry Coke, Sour Patch Kids, and a Honey Bun.

All of your favorites.

"How did you know what I like?" You asked, curious to know if Tyler was behind this.

"You always get some combination of the three at any local gas station." He shrugged.

He remembered because the first time he saw you buy all three he physically rolled his eyes, because, of course, you would buy snacks just as sickeningly sweet as you.

"I didn't know you paid this much attention to me." You said softly.

"Yeah." Scott inhaled a sharp breath. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I please come in?"

You opened the door, inviting him in with the gesture. The door shut behind you, and there was a brief moment of silence between you two.

"I'm sorry, for being a jerk today and every other time I'm around you." Scott started, visibly nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I had a better explanation for why I've been such an ass."

"Yeah, so let's hear it." You said, hands on your hips. "Because I have been nothing but nice to you, even though I don't like who you work for and what they stand for."

"I know." He nodded. "At first, I thought you were being fake or sarcastic because it was unfathomable to me that you would be nice to us when you have absolutely no reason to be."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"But once I learned more about you, and I realized you were being genuinely nice," Scott took a deep breath, building up all his courage. "It knocked me off my feet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused at what he was getting at

"I spend most of my time pretending that I don't care about the people that are devastated by all of this, because it's easier that way. But watching you bear your heart and soul to all of these people, just because you can?" Scott scoffed. "It makes it hard to pretend like I don't care about them, or more importantly, about you."

"You care about me?"

"I do." He nodded. "And I was a jerk to you because I thought it would be easier to make you hate me than it would be to admit that I have feelings for you, when you're far too good for me."

His admission stunned you. You can feel your heart thumping out of your chest as you look into his eyes, which look painstakingly vulnerable.

"I completely understand if you don't feel the same way, but I couldn't outrun these feelings anymore, and I wanted to at least let you know that I'm sorry."

The room fell silent as you processed everything he just told you. Scott was panicking inside, waiting for what felt like years for you to say something, anything.

"Do you know why I was always nice to you?" You asked him. "Because I was hoping that somewhere in there you had a good side. I needed to know that you had a heart before I could admit to myself that I felt drawn to you."

"Do you still? Feel drawn to me?"

You nodded. Stepping closer to him so that you were nearly face to face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please." You nodded desperately, your words barely above a whisper.

His lips were on yours in a flash, and the pure intensity of the kiss nearly knocked you off your feet. It was heated and rough, but somehow gentle and passionate at the same time. His thumb grazed your cheek as he pulled you closer, and every spot his fingers touched made your skin feel like it was on fire. You couldn't get enough of him.

Once he knew you were comfortable, he took the liberty of exploring you more. His tongue slipped into your mouth gently and his teeth caught your bottom lip, causing a small whimper to come from the back of your throat.

Scott groaned at the sound, letting his mind imagine (not for the first time) all of the sounds he could pull from you.

When the two of you finally pulled away for air, he kept you close, his hands ghosting under your chin around your neck, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You taste just as sweet as I thought you would," Scott said with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me again."

[artbyblastweave]

A few years ago, there was a thread on r/asksciencefiction where someone was fishing for a superhero story with an inverted Omni-Man dynamic, or a setting where Homelander's initial presentation is played straight- a setting where the Superman figure actually is the paragon of morality he's initially presented as, but no other superhero is- a situation where you've got one really competent true-blue hero standing head-and-shoulders in power above what's otherwise a complete nest of vipers.

Someone in the thread floated My Hero Academia; while I haven't read it, my understanding is that that's not really an accurate read of what's going on with Stain's neurosis about All-Might being the only "real hero," that the point of that arc is that Stain's got an insane and unreasonable standard and that taking an endorsement deal, while bad, isn't actually grounds for execution. My own contribution to the thread was Gail Simone's Welcome to Tranquility, where a major part of the backstory involved the faux Justice-League's Superman analogue having a little accident because he's the only one who thought they were morally obligated to go public with the secret life-extending macguffin that the rest of the team is using to enforce comic-book time on themselves and their loved ones; while only a couple members of the team are directly in on it, the rest are conveniently incurious. And Jupiter's Legacy gets tantalizingly close to this- The Utopian, a well-meaning stick-in-the-mud, ultimately gets blindsided and couped by his scheming brother who creates a superhero junta staffed by a Kingdom-Come-style glut of third-gen superheroes, who are framed as fundamentally self-interested because only came onto the scene after most of the situations you legitimately need a superhero to handle have been neutralized. (The rub, of course, is that the comic is also highly critical of the Utopian's intellectually incurious self-righteously 'apolitical' approach to superheroism- if for no other reason than that it left him in a position to get blindsided by a coup!) While Jupiter's Legacy gets the closest, all three of these are only loosely orbiting around the spirit of the original idea, and there's something really interesting there- particularly if the Superman figure isn't hopelessly naive in the same way as Utopian. Because first of all, if you're Metaman or Amazingman or whatever brand-name alias the writer goes with, and you really earnestly mean it, and you put together a team of all the other most powerful heroes on earth in order to pool your resources, and then with dawning horror you gradually begin to realize that everyone in the room besides yourself is a fascist or a con artist or abuser or any other variant of a kid with a magnifying glass eyeing that anthill called Earth- What the hell is your next move?

Do you just call the whole thing off? Can you trust that they'll actually go home if you call the whole thing off? I mean you've put the idea in their heads, are you sure that they aren't going to, like, start the Crime Syndicate in your absence? Do you stick around to try and enact containment, see if getting all of these people on a team makes them easier to keep on a leash? But that's functionally going to make you their enabler pretty quickly, right? Overlooking "should you kill them-" can you kill them? You're stronger than any individual one of them- are you stronger than all of them? The first time one of them really crosses a line in a way you can't ignore- will that be a one-on-one fight? Are they the kind of people capable of putting two-and-two together and pre-emptively ganging up on you if you push back too hard? Do you just start trying to get them killed, or keep them at each other's throats so they can't coordinate anything really nasty? Can you squeeze any positive moral utility out of them, or is that just a way to justify not doing the hard work of taking them down? There've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that Superman in specific would be a good person, and there've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that superheroes in general would be good people. Something to be done, I think, with questioning the default assumption that everyone Superman becomes professionally close to would be good, and to explore how he'd handle it if they weren't.

[wildpiercy-art]

So making some progress with project: visual novel.  Meaning I have a concept I think will be fun and I’m working on a first draft.  Also doing some research on Ren’Py.  Should probably download it and actually start doing some practical exercises, but I used up a lot of energy recently dealing with rat drama but now I’ve got that squared away for the time being.  (Also working myself up to getting a DS emulator running to play some gen 5...)

Beyond that I have all the art assets that need doing, of course, but I want to at least get the whole story down first if not in multiple drafts so I have an idea of what all I need before I start just cranking out drawings.  

[oreo-creampie]

𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

⊹ “𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧 (𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦-𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝 & 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝)”

⊹ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! Toji, Satoru, Suguru and Sukuna find out you’re a submissive at a sex club.

⊹ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 14 minutes / 3.9k

⊹ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! pervert!reader, bdsm, service sub!reader, dom!toji, dom!sukuna, dom!suguru, dom!satoru, gang-bang, degradation/praise/mocking/taunting, daddy/princess, pain kink, mind break/dumbification, overstimulation, they all got big dick, vibrator, collar and leash, light bondage, blindfold, voyeurism, biting, spanking, some face spalling, drinking satoru's cum outta a pussy sleeve, double penetration, dacryphilia, some cervix fucking, light belly bulge, squirting

⊹ “𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬”

⊹ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! they hunt you down and fuck you

⊹ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 20 minutes / 5.7k

⊹ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! everything the reader has consented to ahead of time! pure smut, monster fucking, role played breaking & entering, kidnapping (moving to a secondary location), masked ‘unknown’ robbers, established relationship with satoru, planned kinky event, knife play, blood, marking, name branding, biting, toys, hunting/chasing, some fear play, drugging, manhandling, blindfolding akak bag on head, some light bondage, begging, heavy degradation/some praise/taunting/teasing, dumbification/mind break, light cervix fucking, double dick!suguru, double dick!satoru, light semi-public nudity - you're carried to the car naked in the middle of the night (not caught), reader quickly loses all shame and just wants to be pounded and passed around, triple stuffing reader's cunt, anal, anal fingering, some anal prep, suguru has his tongue pierced, reader gets turned into a succubus, pussy slapping, they are mean but kind of sweet at times, one face slap

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

⊹ “𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞?! 𝐧𝐧! 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!!!”

⊹ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! You’re so beautiful in your tiny clubbing dress. Satoru can’t keep his hands off you, doesn’t matter if his roommates are watching. They can join.

⊹ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 10 minutes / 2.8k

⊹ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! ganagbang, four-some, triple/double penetration, anal, oral, sitting on satoru's face, mocking/teasing/dragadtion, squirting, face fucking, light pain kink, light choking, manhandling, size kink, they all have big cocks, cock drunk/mind break, cream pie, triple stuffing, double stuffing the same hole, hair pulling, daddy/mama/princess, begging, dacryphilia, overstimulation, light dumbifcation, spanking, aftercare fluff, praise, established relationship with satoru, pussy drunk!trio, cock drunk!reader, some recording

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮

⊹ “𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬”

⊹ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! Your friendship with Kenjaku, Satoru, and Suguru gains some benefits.

⊹ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 15 minutes / 4.3k

⊹ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! train/passing you around, size kink, collar/leash, praise/degradation/mocking/teasing, pain kink, sweet mean dom!geto, sweet sadistic dom!kenjaku, sweet mean dom!gojo, hints of jealousy, choking w and without the with leash, spanking, spitting, dacryphilia double stuffing the same hole, triple penetration, hints of cock warming, begging, overstimulation, mindbreak, friends with benefits, possessive kenjaku with talk of a punishment, squirting, vibrator, creampies

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 & 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

⊹ “𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐢𝐧’, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧’ 𝐧’ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠”

⊹ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! Satoru surprised Suguru for his birthday by tying you up for Suguru to fuck after the party

⊹ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 3.1k/11 minutes

⊹ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! high!reader, satosugu au, cocksucking/face-fucking/pussy-eating, double pentration (same hole/no anal), heavy heavy praise/teasing, confessions, heavy overstimulation, mindbreak, squirting, dacryphilia, begging, creampie, satoru sucks on the mix of cum that suguru scoops out of your cunt, cervix fucking, letting wine trickle into your mouth with a kiss/licking wine off of you, first time with the reader, size kink, satosugu in an established relationship (they had talked about their feelings with each other for you previously/Satoru has talked to you and set something up for suguru’s b-day), bdsm sex room, bondage (with long silk ribbon instead of rope), suguru is blindfolded temporarily, biting, spanking

⊹ “𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞”

⊹ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! jerking off, some cock sucking, begging, praise/degrading, they are sweet but mean, smacking you with a belt, choking you with the same belt, pain kink, light size kink, overstimulation/mindbreak/dumbification, dacryphilia, daddy said three times, squirting, hints of satoru eating suguru’s cum out of you, breeding/creampie

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

⊹ “𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲”

⊹ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! You fuck your dealer and his friends

⊹ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dealer!toji, dealer!sukuna, dealer!suguru, dealer!satoru, gun play, oral (giving and receiving) light embarrassment, teasing, reader more into than she is scared of it, hints of a size kink, hint of reader being shy, light fingering, satoru plays with your clit, praise, praising degradation, jerking off, squirting, gun play - toji rubs it on your cunt - lightly fucks you with the tip before having you lick it clean

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

⊹ “𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤”

⊹ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 14 minutes - 4k (of mostly nasty smut)

⊹ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! Celebrity reader gets fucked by her six guards whilst they wear ghostface masks.

⊹ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: celebrity!reader, guards! Toji, Sukuna, Choso, Satoru, Suguru and Kento, reader has healing abilities, knife kink/light cutting, no blood since reader heals, light bondage with chains, ghost face with one Michael Myers mask gangbang, you have tits for this, titty fucking, face/pussy slapping, pain kink, praise/degradation, pain kink, fingering/anal fingering, ass eating, face fucking/cock sucking, handjob, pussy slapping, toys, double/triple penetration, anal, hair pulling, spitting, spitting water in your mouth, cum swallowing, creampie, choking

[zipper-ghost]

Based on a fic I'm working on where Kim and Harry have to go undercover at a gay club

Read the fic on ao3

(lines in bold are Harry’s skills talking. I haven't specified but you can guess)

A chill wind whips their faces as they step onto the precinct roof. They huddle together, facing each other, Harry’s broad body blocking the wind which would snuff out the lighter flame. Kim lit his cigarette and then lit Harry’s. Harry recently switched from Menthols to Kim’s brand of chestnut-flavored cigarettes. Kim hasn’t asked about it even though he noticed.

As the smoke fills his lungs Kim’s whole body visibly relaxes. A softness falls across his expression, his gaze grows distant. You don’t know if it’s the ritual of smoking at the end of the day or the nicotine. The smoldering end of the cigarette is reflected in Kim’s glasses, as are you. They lean against the railing and watch the sunset over the horizon in silence. Harry waits for Kim to start. 

The jingling of Kim unzipping his jacket makes Harry stand a bit straighter and bite the filter for his cigarette. 

“Shall we start?” Kim says taking out his notebook and flipping it open. 

You nod, trying not to linger on Kim’s now exposed collarbone. 

“How do you think the investigation is going?”

“Bad.”

“Kmn, we seem to have hit a dead end. Even though we’ve made contact with the suspect the name he has been using in the club scene seems to be an alias. And his tattoo doesn’t seem to be related to any known gang or criminal organization. We are still waiting for the lab to get back to us about the particular strain of hallucinogen that was in the victim’s system.” 

“It’s worrying…”

“What is?”

“Well, the drug the victim overdosed on- it’s not something we’ve come across before. There is a chance that there will be more overdoses like this.”

“We can look into who the suspect’s supplier might be.”

“He might not have a supplier here.”

Kim glances at Harry. “Why do you say that?”

“The suspect is Seraise. They said he was bragging about being an aerostatic pilot on leave. Maybe he brought the drugs from the Safre empire, would that be possible to find out?”

“I can look into it.” 

For a moment it is silent except for the sound of Kim’s pen on paper. A motor carriage speeds across the street below. Sodium street lights are switched on as the sky grows darker and stars begin to appear one by one. 

“How long do you think we have until he returns to Safre?”

Kim taps the page with the back of his pen. “It’s hard to tell. He has been here awhile, might be any day now.” 

“He probably won’t come to that club anymore,” Harry adds.

Kim’s eyes crinkle. He is smiling though only you would notice. 

“No,” Kim says, “not after you scared him off.”

“I didn’t scare- I am perfectly capable of flirting.”

“Sure, you are,” Kim replies around his cigarette, his flat words dripping with sarcasm. 

“I am! I was just not his type is all. He must be into twinkles-”

“Twinks,” Kim corrects. “Like our victim.”

“Hm.” Harry exhales a plume of white smoke that dissolves into the night. 

“So Kim, what’s your type? Twinks, bears, otters, cubs, tigers, rabbits?”

Kim’s face remains unreadable but his shoulders tense, the pages of his notebook crinkle under his grip. 

He answers after a brief but notable pause. “I don’t have a type. And you made up the last few at the end.”

“Everyone has a type! Are you saying you have no preferences when it comes to who you find attractive?”

“I’m more interested in personalities.”

“You’re such a fucking liar. Come on Kim.”

“Enough detective. We are still in the middle of our briefing and this is irrelevant to-”

“This is relevant to the case,” Harry insists. 

“Fine,” Kim says begrudgingly. “If I had to describe it, it’s say my taste in men is … questionable.”

“Questionable? What does that mean?”

“It means I’m attracted to men who are bad for me or impossibly out of reach. Now if you are satisfied can we get back to the case?”

Harry smiles. If you are smart about it, you could get more information from Kim. “Well your answer was kind of a cop-out but I’ll let it go for now.”

Kim furrows his brow at Harry, a look that says ‘Don’t you dare.’

You feel your knees buckle under the force of Kim’s glare. You grab the railing with one hand. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my type?”

“I don’t have to. I already know.”

“What? How do you already know?”

Kim turns back to his notebook and pretends to read. “Because it is obvious. You like them young, waifish, and pretty. Someone mysterious and fragile, someone who you can save.”

Someone to be your redemption. 

“That- that's not true- not everyone that-” Harry stutters. Kim’s blatant description of Dora throws you off kilter. Talking about her is taboo. Even though Kim knows about her and what she did to you he had never brought it up. He knows you still have nightmares of her. 

“Well, just in Martinaise there was Klaasje, Lilienne, the smoker on the balcony, and-”

“Wait- the smoker on the balcony?”

Kim raises an eyebrow. “You were smitten. You went on and on about him, ‘he is such a good listener, I felt heard when I talked to him. He smelled so good, how can someone smell so good?” Kim covers his mouth to hide his condescending grin. 

A formless darkness claws inside you. It feels terrible to be judged, to be teased, but you can’t quite put into words what you are feeling, or why

“You sound jealous,” Harry snaps back. 

Kim sighs. “I’m not jealous. I’m a detective and I notice patterns of behaviour.”

“Well you're plain wrong in this case. You’re not like that-”

“I’m not like what?” 

“Like…” Harry’s breath stutters in his chest. Kim isn’t like Dora or Klaasje or Lilienne or the smoker on the balcony. He isn’t like them and still…

You look at Kim’s cigarette and feel a pang of jealousy. You wish to be that cigarette cradled between his lips. You want to burn into ash, you want to be the bitterness on Kim’s tongue. You want to be the smoke filling his lungs, the nicotine flooding his bloodstream. You want to be Kim’s addiction, you want to be part of him, deep and inextricable. 

“I…” A tidal wave of desire crashes through you but you can’t say the words.

Kim snaps his notebook close. “I guess we’ve reached the end of the briefing. Our conversation is no longer productive.” He tosses his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushes the lit ember beneath the heel of his boot. 

His face is unreadable as usual but Kim is upset. 

Damn it. You’ve fucked up Harry. 

Harry follows Kim down the stairs from the roof. 

“I’m sorry Kim, I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry Officer. It’s late and we won’t any more progress today, you should go home early.”

He is lying, if he isn’t mad he wouldn’t call you ‘officer’

[naffeclipse]

Dance, Detective, Dance

Detective!Reader x Police Chief!Eclipse

Commission Info

Who's ready for some dancing with Police Chief!Eclipse? I had a delightful time writing this darling little fic which was requested by Anonymous. The detective reader must navigate a situation they truly do not want to be in and are ultimately rescued by a very dashing Eclipse. Now, time to hit the dance floor.

———

This is not where you’re meant to be.

The candlelight twinkle of the capitol building’s chandeliers cast the ballroom floor in gentle, romantic lightning. The marble columns of the great architecture build a grandness to the politics and party tonight. Men, women, human and animatronic alike, flutter around the space in bird-like trillings of socialization. The suits are finely pressed and the gowns are exuberant and shimmering. The large, photo-ready smiles mean nothing to you. Though fellow officers mingle among public workers and rich city members, you stand deliberately away from the conversations in a shady nook against the wall.

You must remind yourself to unfurrow your brow lest you stand with a perpetual scowl on your face for the rest of the night. This should not be mandated as part of your job—a charity ball, put on by your police precinct no less. Your time is better spent pooling over castfiles and running down streets to locate criminals. 

You tug at the collar of your formal attire, dark and fitted for a black-tie event. The weight of your gun rests heavily on your hip, hidden beneath your clothes. You wish you could stroke it, hold it in your hands, and count the rounds. The number of bullets inside the clip is branded in your mind, but the routine is grounding. But, your hands lie empty and repeatedly clench.

The night has worn on. This has been your service for the evening. You can excuse yourself on the basis that you’re needed back at your desk to study the recent string of crimes the Celestial Gang conducted. Surely that’s better spent time than standing here, stuck in fancy clothes that do little to make you more approachable.

The door. Your eyes have been returning to it constantly in the last hour. You could piece together what’s been eating away at you about the last rival gang slaying. What are the Celestial Gang building up to? Why suddenly strike so hard and fast at enemies? Do they simply have more confidence or is there something moving in the underground, dark and silent as a reaper?

This is enough. You’re going back to work. You step out of the shadow alcove you’ve lurked in all evening. Shoulders hunched as you begin to slip between oblivious attendees of the charity ball, you keep your eyes on the door. Single-mindedly, you weave towards the exit without seeing one face or hearing a voice in the crowd’s babble.

Someone emerges at the top of the grand staircase to the left of the doors. A familiar figure, tall and lithe and adorned in sun rays, descends the steps.

You stop in a crowd. Eyes drawn up, you stare at the police chief.

Eclipse. You’ve never seen him so sleek and sharp in a tuxedo of deep crimson. He fixes his bow tie with deft fingers, his eyes lifting to the crowd as if he’s lost something. His expression is intent, unsatisfied as he searches for the brief moment it takes for his gaze to swiftly land upon you.

Your lips part for an inexplicable reason. To call out to him. To explain why you’re making a beeline for the door. Say hello before you tell him goodbye. You have no answer. No words slip from your lips as he holds your stare as if you were the only person standing in the room.

His canary yellow optics brighten. His hands fall, softly opening in a gesture that seems to invite you closer. The police chief tilts his head. He finishes descending the steps as you push through the crowd—not to escape the ball but to meet him at the foot of the staircase.

He says your name softly in a manner you consider dangerous.

“Eclipse,” you greet, though it’s unnatural to say his name while the two of you are very much not alone. Yet, the crowd leaves you two in a pocket of privacy, unaware and unconcerned with a commanding officer and his subordinate.

Music pulls on strings, echoing in the air. Dancers begin to meet and pair behind you on the polished dance floor. Eclipse’s eyes briefly stray to the live music conducting the beginning of a couple’s dance, but his black pupils return to you. 

“Where are you going?” He reaches out and touches the sleeve of your clothes, smoothing down a non-existent wrinkle. 

“Out,” you answer, almost shoving it between your teeth. “I have work to do.”

His grin tightens like glass crunching in on itself. His fingertips slip further down your arm, trailing carefully over the sleeve that’s far too stiff for your liking to loosely encircle your wrist. He keeps you in place.

“You are expected to remain for the entirety of the charity ball; the same as every officer in attendance.” He speaks with the firmness of authority.

You narrow your eyes. He meets you unyieldingly. Your fist clenches just underneath his large, dark hand.

“I need to go over the case files from last week. I can’t stand here all night.” You look out over the band playing, accompanying dancers as they step and twirl. The bodies are organized yet chaotic in their colors and energies. A few people are laughing and others are stone-cold serious, focused on the rhythm while others kiss their partner.

“Detective, you can last one night at a social event.” His voice gravels low, almost touching a note of mirth.

His thumb slides down the bones of your hand, caressing your skin softly. A shiver subtly works its way up your spine. You turn back to face him. A stubborn argument crawls upon your lips but you stop short.

The police chief is strangely quiet. No, distracted. His eyes roam up and down your person. You stand frozen under his inspection. You dressed appropriately. He can’t fault you for improper attire but you can’t unravel the motive for his silence. His expression deepens into something soft. His optic lights dust you gently with his attention.

The strange exchange prompts your study of the police chief. He’s never been one to slack in his appearance nor fail to dress for the occasion. There is an undeniable charm to how the tuxedo looks on him. His fingertips are soft against the pulse on the inside of your wrist. The deep crimson color compliments his maroon and indigo sun rays.

A beat passes. Eclipse finds your eyes again.

“You look exquisite, sweetheart.” The note of affection in his tone sends a weakness into your knees.

“I’m not staying,” you say. Eclipse knows better than to charm you—though you must breathe to regain the feeling in your legs. “Even if I will miss seeing you look so sharp and spiffy.”

“Thank you,” his voice is low and gravelly. It echoes him finding you late at night, working at your desk, and walking you halfway to your home. A voice greeting you first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee. A question of concern, wondering if you’ve had enough sleep lately.

He holds out his other hand. The hold he has on your wrist is loose, soft and so unlike the coldness of handcuffs you’ve experienced before. You’re reminded again of his relation to the Celestial Gang mob bosses. Though what happened to separate Eclipse from his brothers and lead them down such different paths eludes you. You don’t pry. You won’t ask him to give it all up. 

He is not his brothers.

“Since you must stay here, we can make use of your presence.” His fingers unfurl. His dark digits and silicon palm wait before you. Like an offer of hope. Like an invitation to sneak away, just the two of you. His optics are lower in light. “Won’t you dance with me, Detective?”

You stare at the offering. A weak stirring begins within you. You tilt your head back to hold his gaze.

“I can’t dance.” You have the bluntness of a hammer. He knows this. He has always known this.

Eclipse’s grin remains unwavering. 

“I’ll lead.”

The music swells to a final jazzed ending. Couples drift apart and shuffle, and others stay perfectly together, waiting for the next song.

This is dangerous. Your hand falls into his. Him leading you deeper onto the dance floor to lose yourselves in the crowd and yet, find all the privacy. 

“Stand on my feet,” he says.

“You’ll regret this,” you warn him gently for his own sake. You fix your shoes upon him, scuffing up the shiny black polish but Eclipse doesn’t even glance down. His optics are firmly fastened on your gaze.

He chuckles low within his metaphorical throat. The first twirl begins, and you are perfectly safe upon his footwork. If anyone notices that you’re not truly putting in effort, allowing Eclipse to lead and put in all the moves, no one says anything. No one truly looks at you. All the politicians officers and city workers are engrossed in their dramas. You almost feel as if you were alone with Eclipse.

The music slips over you. The string cords and the waltz rhythm of the instruments tug you both along. Eclipse effortlessly weaves and carries you through the people, his attention tilted down to hold you in his vision while the room spins at the edges. You stare into his optics. Yellow with pinpricks of black. His smile is softening at the edges, his sharp teeth less visible in his focus.

“How do you know how to dance?” you ask, your interrogation voice coming through full force.

Eclipse tilts his head. A glint in his gaze gives way to something you can’t help but find unusual for the police chief.

“Personal interest and a need to fulfill certain duties a police chief must uphold such as appearing at public events. Especially for an animatronic,” his voice is gravelly.

To be charming and capable in every manner, to have to give even more than a human would in his position. Your hands clench his as he cuts through the space, leading your clasped hands like a wedge through the masses. Your grip tightens upon him. A burn sets in your chest, hot and spitting.

“You don’t have to dance,” you say, “Not with me.”

“I know,” he says softly. His voice lowers. “It’s a shame I don’t see you like this more often.”

You grimace as you glance down at yourself.  “These clothes are too stuffy. Who could chase a criminal down in this?”

Eclipse’s smile is poignant as he remarks, “It’s a very good thing you’re not on active duty tonight then.”

A sound between a huff and a growl escapes your mouth. Eclipse twirls you in a motion that leaves your head spinning slowly until you remember to focus on his eyes. His light is constant through the movement of his practiced swaying. 

You fight the urge to close your eyes and rest your head on his chest. His height gives you the perfect advantage to rest against him. You might be tired. The entire social event has sucked you dry and now you’re stuck in a slow whirl with the police chief. It’s difficult to remember that you wanted to leave only a few moments ago.

“Eclipse, I have to go,” you say over the ringing of the music. You’re getting distracted. You feel weak, held up by him so tenderly. His hand presses into the small of your back as he shifts you in his arms. 

“Would it kill you to spend an evening with me, looking so fine, and dancing?” His eyes burn low. You can’t look away.

“Maybe.” He doesn’t let you loose, so you must grit your teeth and admit, “I dance and wear nice clothes only for you.”

Eclipse grins. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, and his movements grow stronger. 

You cling tighter to him. Held flush against his chassis and fine suit, you watch the room twist upon itself. Eclipse draws you in and out, and he carefully stops to gently set you back on your feet. You immediately freeze like a wild animal set in a civilized place. Before you can succumb to your failure of not knowing a single dance, Eclipse takes your hand and lifts your arm above your head. Pressing your shoulder softly, he guides you into a soft spin upon your toes. You almost stumble. He holds you steady.

Then he takes you by the waist, holding you tight as he dips you low. You’re parallel to the floor, parallel to the police chief's smile as he hovers above you. You both hide below the crowd. The music swells.

His mouth has never been closer. You don’t realize how much your chest heaves, your heart alive in your ribcage as if amid a shoot-out, but it’s him. It’s only him. A smokey-amber scent fills your senses. He’s so close, and you drown in him.

Eclipse gently lowers himself closer. His optics flash between your eyes and your lips. You breathe out. Your eyelids flutter close—

And gunshots ring out.

Your eyes fly open and Eclipse’s optics flare. People scream. The stringed instruments cut off with abrupt notes souring the air. In a blur of a second, Eclipse pulls you back onto your feet. You whirl around, your hand upon your gun and freeing it from its concealed holster. 

The doors are wide open, held by men in dark attire as more shots ring out, thrumming out of Thompson machine guns. Gleeful criminals stare down at the panicking charity ball. You step forward. Eclipse's hand falls on your shoulder, pulling you back just as a politician in a suit dashes right in front of you. Eclipse’s grip tightens on your collarbone.

The gangsters glance around, lowering their weapons. Screams of panic ring out again but the gunfire stops—they have everyone’s attention.

“Eclipse,” you utter. Your finger is careful on the trigger. There are too many civilians. The boldness of crashing a party in the heart of the capital building leaves you seething.

“The Celestial Gang,” his voice lowers. He knows. You both know.

Henchmen step aside and hold open the doors to the dark, cool night. Dressed in fine suits, sharp and oily as finger-rubbed gold, the mob bosses of the most feared gang in the city step into the ballroom. They hold guns in their hands, gleaming cold and dark. Their eyes, gray and pale, and red and black, cut through the panicking people. 

Eclipse is half-frozen beside you. He steps forward, placing himself between you and the mob bosses. His brothers.

Your eyes dart around the room. The people have crowded against the far wall. Other officers have drawn their weapons. You glare down the animatronics bearing the themes not unlike the police chief, one of a pale yellow sun, and the other of a dark and silvery moon.

“Oh, Moon, I hope we’re not too late to the party,” Sun announces. His fingers stroke the trigger of his gun. His mouth curls sinisterly. “It’s so nice to see all the elites of this rotten city celebrating their charity.”

“Look, brother,” Moon tips his dark hat at you. “We’re just in time.”

You grit your teeth where you stand, and glare back.

“I think you’re right.” Sun laughs, cold and chilling against the marbled columns. His attention rests on you, hungry with avarice.

Moon lifts his gun into the air and smiles with sharp teeth. He announces, “We will be stealing the detective for a dance.”

[bbhyeoliskooks]

𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐞 | badboy!cyj

Yeonjun thinks you’re irresistible, therefore making it hard to stay away

♔ genre: yeonjun x reader (f), bad boy, fake dating, opposites attract, fluff, angst, 20k+ words - loosely based on the timestamps I made in 2020

♔ warnings: bad words, blood, wounds, alcohol, insecurity, mentions of cheating

♔ song: Only Look at Me - Taeyang

When you locked eyes with Choi Yeonjun, the leather jacket wearing troublemaker, you were more than stunned. To see him. At the dog shelter. No, it wasn't how handsome he was that shocked you since you hadn't even dared to look at him before- it was the fact that he was helping at a dog shelter, the complete opposite of what fit his image. And you knew not to stereotype him, but how could you not?

He was the guy at school that everyone feared and knew not to mess with. The guy that would give someone a beating if they just looked at him wrong. Out of every place you would expect him to be working at, it was definitely not a dog shelter.

But here he was, hands gently rubbing the corgi's chin as it licked his wrists enthusiastically. Hands gripping the broom, you felt your feet glue to the floor as you watched him laugh and giggle, playing with the dog as it attacked him with affection. His laugh, filling the large room, reverberated off the walls- something out of him that you've never heard before. The contrast between his fearsome image at school and the careless boy laughing heartily in front of you was the shock of the century and you found yourself gasping, not believing what was playing out in your very eyes.

You hadn't really talked to Yeonjun before, most of it due to the fact that you were extremely scared of him. You had heard so much about how dangerous he was according to other people; each week, there was always a new rumor floating through the school that he single-handedly fought a gang or kissed another college girl. Such things made it harder to get to know him, and you weren't sure if he'd even want to be your friend. You two came from opposite worlds anyway; you weren't the type to find trouble exhilarating and he was always in a new fight. Oftentimes you would see Yeonjun sporting a brand new bruise on his scuffed cheek or fresh crimson cuts on his already wrapped up hand. Other times you would see him dozing away in class from lack of sleep, in front of the poor teacher who just wanted the class to pay attention!

Though you didn't know much, you still stayed far away from Yeonjun. If anything, his physical injuries were proof enough and you bought into the ridiculous rumors of his tales and tea. It's not like they were a lie really. You could just tell how dangerous he was just from the way he acted and his cocky stance that only yelled 'don't come near!'

"You staring, princess?"

Your eyes widened and you started to stutter, putting one hand up nocently while the other gripped the broom. You felt busted, even though looking at him wasn't a crime scene. Sure felt like one. He basically had you shivering in your shoes because of his glare. Besides, how did he know you were there anyway?! His back was towards you, for goodness sake!

"O-oh, I'm sorry! I just didn't know you-"

He smirked at your incredulous expression before turning back to watch the corgi beside him fall and show its belly. Yeonjun couldn't help but chuckle at the playful creature, reaching to scratch the fluffy white tummy. He cut you off from your stuttering with a smooth voice, another part of him that you rarely heard.

"It's okay. Y/N, right? Yeah, I work at a dog shelter. I really like the dogs here, especially this corgi," he giggled, eyes quickly darting between you and the dog.

Left silent and gobsmacked, you gazed at how he was on the floor, being extremely gentle with the creature. There were a million things running through your mind, but the only thing that stood out to you the most was that he knew your name. As far as you were concerned, you hadn't spoken much to Yeonjun before- most of that being due to fear or scarce circumstances. In addition, there was only one class that you shared together, so how could he have known? It didn't help that you barely brought attention to yourself, rarely raising your hand to answer a question.

The fact that he knew your name had the butterflies in your stomach fluttering; however, you quickly snapped out of it, making it out to be a coincidence.

"Yeah, that corgi is super cute! I, just um.... didn't know that you would be working here, didn't think it was your type," you laughed nervously, reaching for the suddenly itchy part behind your neck.

Yeonjun simply got up, pushing his hands from the floor to help him stand up. The dog trailed behind him, hungry for more attention despite receiving some earlier. Its stubby legs followed Yeonjun as he came near you with a mischievous smile on his face. The proximity between your faces made your face heat up and you gulped. He was already so comfortable, being this close to your ear.

He just whispered, clasping his hands together playfully in a prayer position. "Keep it a secret, alright princess?" He then opened the door, letting the dog shuffle out first into the hallway before turning again towards you with a glint in his eyes, "just between us."

It wasn't until the door creaked, a high-pitched whistle sound that snapped you out from your daze. What just happened? Did the Choi Yeonjun just speak to you? And why was he asking you to keep his volunteer work at the dog shelter a secret?

─── ♔ ───

The next time you saw Yeonjun was when he was dozing off in class. Obviously he didn't seem to care about the lesson as he quietly snored, unaware of the drool and noise he was making. Normally you wouldn't have cared, but your teacher put her students into groups and... surprise surprise, you were paired with none other than Yeonjun. How lucky.

You stared at how peaceful he looked while he slept, his face completely relaxed with his mouth open a tiny bit. His hair gently fanned over his eyes, still looking as perfect as ever even though it was untidy. If he was like this forever, you figured you wouldn't have anything to be scared of. Unfortunately, this project was a massive part of your grade and you wanted to get most of it while you had the chance... which meant waking up Yeonjun.

Gently shaking him, you grabbed onto his leather jacket that was cold to the touch. Tugging onto the ends of the jacket didn't seem to be working as he would slightly open one eye before closing them again. You huffed, bending down to examine his face before he lazily opened both this time, wondering what was disrupting his precious sleep. You jumped back with fear since the proximity of your face and his was too close for comfort and he'd probably think you were weird for being near him.

He just blinked a couple times, unfamiliar with the environment around him before groaning a quiet, "Princess...?" His voice was groggy with sleep which meant that he was very well into the dreaming stage until you so rudely had to disturb him.

Honestly, the use of the nickname for the second time had you taken aback. You tried to remain unfazed, coughing awkwardly. Waking him up was like playing with fire; you weren't sure if he was a nice person when he woke up and considering that he wasn't really nice awake either, well...

You cleared your throat, toying with your fingers that clutched your supplies. "Uh, Yeonjun, um... we have to do a project together. Sorry for waking you up."

Yeonjun rubbed the rest of the fatigue out of his eyes. The nap didn't seem to help even though he already slept through the majority of the class. If anything, his dark circles were more prominent than before and he still felt lethargic. Since he was used to doing anything he wanted with no consequences, he just paid no mind, distracted by sleep taking over him again. He only responded with a grumble, slowly closing his eyes for the nth time while you felt all the more embarrassed.

"Yeonjun, please? Don't you want a good grade as well?" You pleaded, taking the seat next to him while he comfortably lay on his arms. Once again he opened one eye, looking straight at you. You frowned, upset that he wasn't even trying. Granted you knew that he didn't care about school or really anyone for that matter, but at least you were keeping his secret safe! Of course he didn't owe you anything, but pretending to care about the project would still be nice.

Yeonjun gazed at you, glancing at the upset glint in your eye and your frown. Out of everything else, you cared about his grade... knowing that he didn't give one fuck about it? For some reason, his heart skipped a beat while he looked at you, thinking to himself: cute. The way you sat there, clutching your bedazzled and decorated notebook to your chest with the pen slid through the spirals had his insides turning into mush. You were absolutely adorable to him, glaring mindlessly as if to scare him.

Perhaps that was when Yeonjun's soft spot specifically for you started developing. Because of that, he sat up and got to work, no matter how much sleep was pulling him away.

─── ♔ ───

When you arrived at your usual spot for lunch, you were surprised to see the brooding guy, Yeonjun, in the seat opposite to where you usually sat. Your boyfriend wasn't at school today because of sickness so seeing Yeonjun in his seat was a shock. Scared to death, you clutched your lunch box and walked next to him. This couldn't be good. He probably had a problem with you already and you groaned internally, slapping yourself for waking him up a couple days before.

You could tell that he was pissed off by the way he sat. With his jaw clenched and his fingers clasped together on the seat as his legs spread out, it was quite obvious that he was angry.

Nervously you cleared your throat, fiddling with your fingers, "um... is there any particular reason why you're here?" He raised an eyebrow, not responding, so you felt inclined to ramble whatever was on the tip of your tongue. He was so scary that you could literally shit your pants. "Well, I'm just wondering since this is where I usually sit and everything, but you're okay to sit here! I can move, if you want."

Yeonjun couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, only making you more confused. It seems as though his anger dissipated based on his behavior lightening up with a simple smile.

"I'm just here to work on the project for a little bit. It's not a problem, right? I know how much it means to you."

Taken aback by his calm yet sweet answer, your jaw nearly dropped. He knew how much it meant to you? Clearing your throat, you adjusted your skirt and tried to act normal about the situation. No way the scariest guy in school could say something like that.

Yeonjun tilted his head, gesturing to the bench behind him, "come on. Sit down."

Though his words were controlling, his tone was soft, inviting you sweetly. You sat down, finding yourself completely awkward as you pulled out your notebook from your lunch bag. True to his word, he also pulled out a few loose leaf papers from his bag along with a pen. The whole lunch period was spent with silence between the two of you, trying to finish as much of the project as you could even though it was only the first day.

When Yeonjun stopped aggressively writing on his own paper, you looked up just to see him glaring at everyone near you. The people near were either pointing at him and whispering muffled words. Though you couldn't hear specifically what they were saying, you could tell that most were stunned because of their dropped jaws and stares between you and Yeonjun. Honestly, you couldn't blame them. In a million years, you wouldn't have expected to be working with him at lunch for a stupid class project.

With the amount of attention you both were receiving, you spoke without thinking, "why do you act like that? Glaring at everyone?"

It came off more as rude but Yeonjun didn't see it that way, his expression turning to one of guilt and also shock at your curiosity. "I've just had a bad day and everyone is being annoying by staring at us. But I genuinely don't mean any harm."

His words were ironic; the boy had cuts everywhere from the scar on his cheek and the fresh ones on his fingers. He didn't mean any harm, but fought gangs on the daily (as ridiculous as it sounded)? You found it hard to believe as you chuckled to yourself, an entertained laugh that didn't go unnoticed by him.

"But don't you care that you can scare people off?"

He took a second to think about his answer, looking up at the sky with a pout on his face. You watched him intently as he hummed, completely curious to what he would say.

Instead he grinned, flashing you a mischievous smile. You couldn't fight back a smile of your own now. "Meh. It doesn't matter to me, actually. Besides, you're not scared of me, right?"

Your hand flew up to scratch the back of your neck as you smiled back sheepishly. "I would be lying if I said no." His smile made it easier to tell him the truth. Even though you were scared for your life, gripping onto your sandwich and biting your lip, you found it rather easy to be honest from earlier interactions from him.

He laid his pen down, adjusting himself so he could be more comfortable. He sent you a smirk, getting closer to your face.

"Then I'll work on my expressions so you're not scared of me. I'm just Yeonjun."

You rolled your eyes jokingly and laughed, "yeah, Yeonjun, the notorious bad boy that everyone is scared of." Perhaps he didn't know about his own reputation and that was probably true since no one wanted to be too close to piss him off. Before this conversation, you couldn't blame them but now you saw that Yeonjun wasn't as scary as he seemed. He was still frightening of course, but not to the point where it was hard to be frank with him.

Letting himself relax completely, he rested the side of his cheek on his hand, "You're silly, you know that?"

You didn't respond, opening a ziplock bag full of grapes to finish for the rest of your lunch period. Then you quickly got to work, finding a satisfying position for your pencil to write perfectly. Yeonjun didn't mind either, following your lead, and picked up his pen once again. All that could be heard was either of you shuffling in your seat or the scribbling of your utensils.

20 minutes or so passed before the bell rang. You sighed in relief, flipping your wrist in circles as your fingers ached with the amount that you were writing. Yeonjun got up and shoved his papers in his bag, not caring that it would probably get lost in his sea of other school related stuff and definitely not weed.

You stood up as well, gathering your things together. "Thanks for working on this project with me. I know you'd prefer doing something else," you snuck a glance at his bag, "so it really means a lot."

Yeonjun smiled once again, a very contagious grin that had you trying to fight back your own.

"Anything for you, princess," he winked before walking away. You watched his back intently, his hands in his pocket as he lazily wandered through the bodies of students trying to step away. He probably was going to sneak out again. You giggled, rolling your eyes. There wasn't any reason to be scared of him anymore; yes, Choi Yeonjun was a bad boy but he was also somehow comforting and goofy.

─── ♔ ───

To your surprise, Yeonjun was fun to work with- at the dog shelter and on the school project. He would always find a way to make you smile whenever you were feeling down, incredibly considerate and sensitive to your feelings. You were shocked that Yeonjun had a sweet bone behind all that cologne and intimidation, finding time to strike up a conversation whenever you were near. Occasionally he would flirt here and there, making you roll your eyes, but he was absolutely great to be around. Tales of beating bad guys in alleyways was his main way of entertaining you, acting out scenes that seemed to be from fantasy stories while you watched and laughed. You weren't complaining though. Working with him was like a fun little secret- refreshing and hidden away.

While you were doing your daily routine which consisted of sweeping the dust particles on the cages, you noticed Yeonjun hissing in pain as he made work on wiping down the dog bowls. You turned around confused, raising an eyebrow when he quickly retracted his hand from the running water, flinging it around. You watched as small dots of red flew from his hand, quietly dropping onto the slightly yellow floor. The sight of Yeonjun groaning in pain had you extremely worried and you ran up to him, grabbing his hand.

As per usual, there were many cuts all around his right hand, decorating his pale skin in clusters. You examined it carefully, noticing a rather deep one that did not look too hot. It was still oozing blood, which meant that it was fresh. You glared at Yeonjun, who was staring right back at you with a confused expression on his face.

"Oh my gosh, what happened to you? Come on, let me grab the first aid kit."

...

"Sorry for getting blood all over the floor," he smiled weakly, watching you clean up his cuts with the utmost care. Barely acknowledging him, you sent a threatening look to warn him that he shouldn't be getting into fights. Instead you remained focused on the task, sighing as you cleaned up new and dried up blood. As expected, Yeonjun didn't take much care of himself. You were surprised that he was going on this long though, with such bad cuts like these. Some of them were already scarring, but it was still rather worrisome.

"So why do you have all these cuts on your hand?" You questioned, dipping a cotton ball into some gentle saline solution. The silence was rather peaceful and not awkwardly thick as you tried your best to clean up all his wounds, new and old.

Yeonjun, taken aback, wasn't expecting this from anyone- much less you whom he had met a couple weeks ago. He never really had anyone that worried about him or asked extensive questions about his wellbeing. So to see you there, making a fuss about how he should stop fighting, made him smile. He would be lying if he said his heart wasn't pounding in his chest. The way you were bent over, concentrated on every detail as you examined his hand made his ears burn.

"Are you listening, Yeonjun?" You tapped the cotton ball once again, focusing on the outer area. He hissed, the pain bringing him back to reality, "I was just out before coming in for the dog shelter. Really doesn't matter though."

You huffed, bringing the first aid kit closer to access more materials. Then you playfully hit the back of Yeonjun's other hand as a warning. "It does matter! You're here, all hurt with cuts on your hands!" Thank goodness the first aid kit came in clutch at the dog shelter; there was no way that frustrating guy would have taken care of these at home.

Yeonjun couldn't help but think you were cute as you crossed your arms, frustrated with how reckless he was being. He didn't seem to take you seriously, only smirking at your fret.

"You care about me, princess?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. What type of a question was that?

"Of course I do! You shouldn't be getting into these fights!" You yelled, berating him like a kid. Yeonjun only seemed to smile more as you motioned with your hands, trying to explain how dangerous the situations he was putting himself in. He clearly wasn't listening to a word you said, though you didn't pay much attention, yapping on and on about how he should stop being reckless. The whole time while you were speaking, you managed to wrap a gauze around Yeonjun's hand while he was silently admiring you, resting his cheek against his knuckles. Little by little his heart was softening although he wasn't aware of it yet.

"It just doesn't make sense to me," you sighed as your lips formed a disappointed straight line, "I just don't think it's worth it to get into fights with all these bruises and cuts after."

Yeonjun avoided the question, gazing at you instead of the cotton ball that you were dabbing on his gash. "Of course you wouldn't. I wouldn't expect a lady like you to like a fight."

Him calling you a lady had you blushing as you tried to focus on healing him. He would always flirt, but that didn't mean anything. He was the guy that got lots of attention anyway, so you were positive that this was one of his many lines. Not to mention you had a boyfriend as well.

Taking out multiple band-aids, you tried to distract your fast paced beating heart from collapsing. Eventually you gave up on the whole band-aid process, deciding that the gauze should hold up on the awkward spots better.

"Please just don't get into a fight again, Jun. And if you don't want to listen to me, just get into them less, please?" You looked up at him, noticing that he was uninterested, looking at the puppies that were scratching at the window to get out.

Realizing that he wasn't listening, you gasped and put all your strength into glaring at him. Yeonjun shook his head saying, "now don't get your panties in a twist," and you felt your feet failing you as you tried to get closer to chastise him. Your knees cracked in opposition as you felt yourself slowly falling back, tripping on your own feet. Luckily Yeonjun was quick on his own, free hand reaching out to gently grab you by the waist.

You felt his hand against the curve of your back, delicately holding you there as you tried to regain your strength. However since you were so embarrassed and absolutely stunned that he quickly caught you from falling, you stayed there for a moment, feeling your cheeks blaze with fire. It seemed like a scene from a movie, the way he was looking deeply into your eyes after grabbing your waist to keep you from falling. You gulped, averting your eyes from his intense gaze. "Yeonjun, I'm sorr-"

He only smirked, pulling you forward so you could stand on your own two feet, "come on, it's getting late. I'll take you home today in exchange for the care, okay doll?"

Your legs felt like jelly the rest of the night when he took you on his motorcycle, that ride not being the last.

─── ♔ ───

The month seemed to go by quickly, with minor hiccups here and there. Now you would catch Yeonjun at the shelter more often, helping around with filling the food trays or giving attention. There was less small talk and more deep conversations that had you on the edge of your chair. When there'd be a particularly good conversation with both of you laughing at a random story, either one of you would have to leave. It was quite a funny predicament; you never thought you would be talking to Choi Yeonjun face-to-face considering his reputation, more so wanting to get to know him better. So whenever you or he had to leave, you would feel disappointed, hoping there'd be a longer conversation next time.

As you were saying, the month passed normally until your boyfriend of two years broke up with you. It came as such a shock, since he was usually the one fighting and putting more effort into the relationship. You knew there had been more fights lately, but they definitely weren't enough to warrant a messy breakup with you pleading for another chance while he simply gave up. Perhaps the relationship had run its course, but all theories for your breakup went down the drain when you saw him with that same girl. Everything changed from that moment on; you knew that he was in love with her by his stare and the way he kissed her so delicately. It wasn't until a week later that they came out as a couple, compared to you who had a panic attack each day without his presence. There was no way he could have fallen in love with her in the span of 3 days; it just wasn't possible, knowing him. So you came to the conclusion that he cheated, as hard as that was to believe.

The proceeding days after were extremely hard. You couldn't bear going to school and having to see his face, not with the amount of embarrassment and heartbreak that weighed you down. Knowing that you were in 3 classes with him was too much. You knew you couldn't handle it. Volunteering at the dog shelter was hard as well because there was no motivation to get things finished. Everything reminded you of him, his memory weaving into the smallest things that would have you unable to function normally.

Even though he most likely cheated, you still wanted him back. Maybe it was due to dependency from those 2 years you were together, but it ached and rattled your bones each night you were alone.

Today, you were required at the dog shelter. School was different; you could make up work that Taehyun gave whenever he visited, but you couldn't help at the dog shelter from home. This led you to throw on your denim jacket, barely looking put together as you wiped dried mascara marks from under your eyes. You nearly had to hype yourself to show up, letting the visit be a quick thing before suffocating in the bed sheets again.

The bell rang from above you as you slowly turned the door, expecting at least one dog to strangle you with affection. You were rather surprised- and more so embarrassed when you saw Yeonjun instead, staring at you worriedly. Confusion and concern written on his eyebrows, he walked up to you wanting answers. You crumbled against his concerned gaze, suddenly insecure that you looked a mess with the frizzy hair and dark circles.

"Hey doll, is everything alright? What happened?"

"I'm-I'm fine. Nothing happened," you sniffled, trying to flash him a smile so he wouldn't worry. It didn't work by the look on his face. He reached out, grabbing your hand in his. If not for the massive heartbreak and ache in your chest, you probably would have been shy. But his concern only caused you to break into sobs, unable to hide the truth from him any longer.

"He cheated on me! Two years down the drain because he cheated on me!"

Yeonjun gasped, immediately opening his arms as you crashed against his firm chest. Needing the embrace and comfort more than anything, you let it all out, wailing out loud as if no one was near. You grabbed onto his leather jacket, the pain coursing through your Yeonjun wrapped his fingers in your hair, softly combing through the tangled mess as he whispered mindlessly.

"I'm sorry, princess," he hummed while you cried in his chest. His cologne, filling your nose, was actually super comforting at the moment, reminding you of fresh laundry as you tried not to smother his clothes in tears and snot. It was super embarrassing that he had to see you this way, but you knew he didn't mind by the way he was murmuring and holding you close. He was nearly rocking you at this point, hugging you tightly as you created a wet patch on his chest.

It was a while before you could regain your strength, sniffling and hiccupping as you struggled to do so. Yeonjun merely tucked a couple strands of hair behind your ear as you rubbed your puffy eyes. You barely got a sentence out because of the knot in the back of your throat.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know I would break down like that."

Yeonjun just shook his head, softly cupping your irritated cheek. He was so gentle with you, looking deeply in your eyes. You looked at his eyes, surprised to see that he actually cared. His eyes were tender with sympathy and unbeknownst to you- admiration as well. There was a slight smile on his face as he demanded no apologies, telling you that he didn't mind. This was the type of Yeonjun you were getting more used to, rather than the cold one that everyone feared. You were amazed at how different he was, sometimes even wondering if the way he acted with you was just a persona. But you knew him well enough that he wouldn't do that, and it was evident in the way he handled you softly as if you were a fragile little thing.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you as you tried to gather your thoughts. Being with Yeonjun made you feel ten times better, if not for the hole stretching in your chest. For a second there, you had almost forgotten to breathe, taken aback that he embraced you in the first place. Then your thoughts started twisting, being driven by vengeance and hurt. You began speaking without thinking, clenching your fists tightly.

"I want revenge."

Yeonjun bent down to look at you more clearly, seeing the hurt flow throughout your veins. You tensed, looking at the ground with a type of determination that he had never seen before. It would've been cute if it wasn't driven by hurt. Surprisingly, he was against it- after all, you were never the type to partake in such activities; in the strange friendship, you were definitely more rational than him.

"Revenge how? Princess, you can't do anything illegal."

You frowned, snapping out of your vengeful haze, "you're one to talk! You're always getting into fights!"

Yeonjun chuckled, shaking his head. This was no laughing matter for you and you started listing ideas like throwing eggs at his car (a classic), leaving instant mashed potato packs to rise on his front lawn (would it work?), sneaking into his house and putting fart spray on his clothes (super petty and wouldn't last long), or maybe...

The boy in front of you interrupted you once again, an amused smirk on his face. "I know, but we can't risk you going to jail. At least out of both of us, you can be saved."

Not knowing what he meant by that, you just sighed in defeat.

"Fine. But what's something legal that will hurt him just as much?"

Revenge was never good in the long run even if it caused peace for just a little bit. You knew you would still have the same sinking and suffocating feeling every morning you woke up, but you were desperate to have some of that peace for now. Why did he have to be happy while you were out there suffering? It didn't make sense. He was in the relationship too. The only problem was how though...

You looked at Yeonjun once again, noticing the mischievous glint in his eye. You knew him well enough to know that he was going to suggest an idea, but what came out of his lips next was something you never would've expected.

"Hmm... how about fake dating? It's not illegal, but I do know that as a guy, it'll hurt him."

Thank goodness Yeonjun wasn't the rational one in your friendship. Typically all of your friends would advise against revenge, but hearing his words was super refreshing. Plus, fake dating wouldn't hurt any of you, just your ex who used to be possessive of your every move. And deep down in your heart as well, you hoped that him seeing you with another guy would bring him back to his senses, back to you at least.

Yeonjun watched you perk up as you enthusiastically agreed. You clasped your hands together, thanking him for a wonderful idea before it struck you that he probably had an ulterior motive behind it. Either way, you didn't seem to mind because he was doing you a big favor by pretending to be your boyfriend for a little while. Still, you felt obliged to ask.

"But what would this bring you though? I'm really grateful, but I can't help but wonder why you would want this?"

He thought about your question for a moment and gave a shy smile. "Well, I just need a person to introduce to my parents so they'd get off my back. Would that be fine with you?" His tone was off but you still agreed anyway. The task seemed simple enough. Actually, it was a good bargain on your end!

Then he cleared his throat, adjusting his leather jacket awkwardly before saying, "One rule though. No falling in love." Stretching out his hand, he waited for you to shake it.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised that he would suggest that. There's no way that you would fall in love with Yeonjun. Maybe a couple times you caught yourself staring, but it really wasn't that serious. It wasn't romantic love, just admiration for his beauty. What you guys had was a strange friendship to the outsiders; however, you knew you both cared a lot for each other. Happily you shook Yeonjun's wrapped up hand- something you were proud of yourself for doing- and sealed the deal. If all you had to do was not fall in love and meet his parents, you were up for the easy challenge.

Yeonjun grinned, his wide smile causing your heart to flutter. Maybe your body was already betraying you, the way it was reacting to any small action of his. But you coined it as just the fact that he was attractive and nothing more. It wouldn't take a genius to know that the bad boy Choi Yeonjun was incredibly handsome.

"Great! Let's start tomorrow. There's a big party and I can bet you that your dumbass ex will be there," he winked, putting his hands in his pockets. Off the bat you groaned- not because you didn't want to hang out with Yeonjun, but because you didn't want to be there in the first place. Being at home with a tub of ice cream was always going to be better but revenge could never wait. This was the peace you were waiting for, and you were desperate to have it.

─── ♔ ───

Getting ready for the party was strenuous, given that you had no motivation to do anything. You wanted so badly just to stay inside and wallow in your sadness, but the only thing stopping you was a certain black haired boy who somehow wanted you to succeed with your revenge. There's no way you could avoid this party, even if you begged him. Today you would put on your best act, pretending like you were a happy girlfriend instead of a person that constantly thought of your cheater of an ex.

You were going over the details of your makeup, brushing some luminescent highlighter over your cheekbones when you heard the doorbell ring. Sighing, you set down the brush before getting up on your feet. Running down the stairs, you quickly smoothed down your outfit nervously, hoping that you still didn't look like a mess. You didn't dress super fancily, but nice enough that you felt confident and cute. When you hesitantly opened the door, you were more than surprised to see Yeonjun with a genuine smile on his face, holding a daisy expectantly. Your cheeks flared- was bringing a flower really necessary? It's not like you were going on an actual date. Regardless, you appreciated the gesture anyway.

Yeonjun, seeming to sense your confusion, merely reached out his hand to your hair, slipping the flower in the crack of your ear. You felt your stomach flutter at his actions as his hand lingered, moving down to rub your cheek a little bit.

"If we're going to fake date at this party, we might as well start practicing now," he paused for a moment, holding his breath, "but you look beautiful tonight, doll."

"O-oh yeah. Thanks and for the flower too," you said, sending him a shy smile. He always knew the right words to say, but you were confused with your heart picking up the pace. And why were you stuttering? It wasn't like he made you nervous...

You stepped out into the crisp night while Yeonjun closed the door behind you. It was late enough into the evening where you could barely see anything, the fireflies and streetlights being the only light to help your vision. Wondering how he got there, you squinted your eyes at the driveway when lo and behold, you saw his ride.

It hadn't been the first time that you rode his motorcycle. It was probably the third time, actually. But you remembered the first time very clearly, the way he offered to take you home after you wrapped his wounded hand. It wasn't like you were scared to ride on it, rather it was the fact that you would have to hold onto Yeonjun's waist and stay close to him. The thought had your ears burning but when it inevitably came to fruition a mere seconds later, you felt more free as you rode into the night.

...

You were quite nervous when you went into the party, but thank goodness Yeonjun was there to calm your nerves. He was really understanding about your anxiety, soothing you by keeping a hand on the lower part of your back throughout the whole time. You were pleasantly surprised that he didn't leave you to meet up with his friends or other girls, instead introducing you to them and you doing the same with your friends. He seemed to be taking the fake dating very seriously, which was a shock because he was typically mischievous.

When people saw you two at the party together, most jaws had dropped. Yeonjun had never brought a girl anywhere; actually, he left with one most of the time. So to see him holding you close, almost possessively, you became the hottest topic of conversation throughout the whole house. Whenever you passed by, people would gasp or look at you questioningly. Most of the girls seemed to be upset, looking you up and down to soften the blow that Yeonjun didn't want them.

Naturally, you gravitated towards your best friend, Taehyun whose eyes immediately widened once seeing you. You laughed as he lectured you, asking many questions as to how and why this happened. You weren't a fool; you knew that Taehyun didn't approve solely because of Yeonjun's reputation. But that was what best friends did, looking out for the other in the best way possible.

Yeonjun's arm lazily dropped around your shoulder caused you to shuffle awkwardly as you started to introduce the two. Taehyun raised an eyebrow, saying that they have already met thanks to a school project. Yeonjun remained sheepish anyway, insisting that they hadn't even spoken before. The interaction between your best friend and fake boyfriend was hilarious and you had tears in your eyes. Then in a flooding memory, you remembered how Yeonjun knew your name, even though you never spoke before. How did he know?

Yeonjun stepped away for a moment when he saw his friend, Soobin, giving you a moment to talk to Taehyun. Though you weren't scared, you could tell that he was a little upset with the way he crossed his arms expectantly.

"So... why Yeonjun?'

That was such an easy question. Why Yeonjun? Being your fake boyfriend, of course. Because behind that cold exterior, he was super sweet and caring once you got to know him.

"Yeonjun is just really wonderful to me, Tae. He's super sweet once you get to know him," you answered genuinely, glancing at Yeonjun laughing at his friends. It was refreshing how much he smiled there, since in public, he would be cold and keep quiet to himself.

Taehyun considered your answer carefully before letting out a sigh.

"I don't know him that well, honestly, so I'm worried. Also, you might be going too fast because I thought the other day, you were hung over your ex still?"

His words sunk in, and you pursed your lips. If you and Yeonjun were actually dating, then it definitely would be moving too fast. But there were no consequences and no feelings when it came to fake dating, right? It was so hard lying to your best friend that you could trust with anything. You wanted so badly to tell Taehyun that it was all fake but you were pretty sure that was an unspoken rule between you and Yeonjun. He wouldn't tell anyone either but the truth could possibly get around somehow. Instead you just flashed him a tight smile, trying to convince him of a lie.

"I'm not anymore. Yeonjun was just there to comfort me and I fell in love with him." The words seemed to leave your lips more naturally than you thought, even convincing you as you told Taehyun a big fat lie. Part of what you said was the truth anyway, minus falling in love and not being over your ex... which was 75% of the sentence. Soon you felt Yeonjun come near you, his cologne lingering in the air which notified you that he was there. He wrapped his arms around your waist gently, hugging you from the back as he rested his chin on your head.

"Talking about me, princess?" He murmured, pressing a lazy kiss against your head, "let's go over there near the drinks."

You whipped your head around to what he was talking about, your eyes soon being pulled to your ex. You grimaced, internally dying as you saw him tug his girl closer by the waist. How could they be doing that in public, right in front of you? Did they have no remorse? You felt your throat become parched at the scene, begging for some drinks as you died watching.

Yeonjun, noticing the tension in your body, just held you close before covering your eyes with his wrapped up hand. You squealed, asking Yeonjun what he was doing as he watched them carefully and calculatingly. Soon enough, he was dragging you near the drinks where your ex and his new girl were. Your bones cracked in protest as you tried to stay where you were, the spot that kept you safe to watch them. Unfortunately you were now close, probably only 10 feet away from the foul scene.

"Follow my lead," Yeonjun whispered in your ear, his head dropping to meet your level. You felt your eyes falling into his as he leaned in closer, pressing a chaste kiss beside your lips. His lips were soft against your cheek as he stayed put, counting in his head for a couple seconds as you blushed furiously. You hoped he wouldn't feel the heat from your face as you tried to concentrate on the two silhouettes behind him. To anyone near, it looked like he was kissing you blatantly.

It seemed that his plan worked because you soon heard your ex grumbling to go somewhere else. You internally rejoiced as they walked away and you knew by the looks of his face that he was bothered by your fake kiss with Yeonjun. You smiled all the more when you saw Yeonjun, also grinning from ear to ear.

Excitement rushed through your body as you hopped up in glee, squealing that the plan had worked! Tonight was a success! And although there would always be the familiar ache in your stomach from witnessing your ex being affectionate with another girl, you still won- of course, thanks to Yeonjun. He chuckled as you, without thinking, grabbed his hands and started to sway both of your arms together.

"Jjunie, we did it! I think we made him jealous!"

He couldn't stop laughing now, giggling at how cute you were. You thought that his laughter was due to your ex's silly reaction, not knowing that he found you to be completely endearing. The rest of the night you were jumping up and down, ecstatic whilst Yeonjun accompanied your side. He never went wandering off even if his friends were there, keeping a close eye on you as you talked to Taehyun or wanted another drink. This was entirely out of character for him, and it was all because of you. Somehow, his iceberg heart had melted, becoming warm with love.

─── ♔ ───

It was 3pm, marking the ending of the school day where everyone would be rushing to get home or continue with extracurricular activities. In just 2 hours, the school would become completely silent as no student used the building at the time. You had just finished a second make up test, thanks to your absence in the last week. You hadn't known everything, causing you to turn in the test with some blank answers and definitely some incorrect ones.

It didn't matter though. One bad grade didn't mean you messed up the whole semester, as you were in a good place from before your ex broke up with you. You took your bag, darting out of the room, before you could see your teacher's reaction at your disappointing scores. As you walked tiredly throughout the hall, you noticed that one of the doors was slightly opened. This was strange since locking the doors was mandatory for teachers when they were closing up their part of the building. You quietly walked up to the door, wanting to be a great help and close it, but stopped in your tracks when you noticed quiet sniffles coming from inside.

You raised an eyebrow, confused. The sniffles sounded like a kitten whining for its mother, but that would be impossible. An animal couldn't get into the school easily, marking off that theory and meaning that there was a person in there. But why would anyone be here at the end of the day at 5pm when everyone was already home? And a better question, was someone crying there? You made sure to open the door as quietly as you could, and what was in front of you caused you to freeze in place.

Sitting in the seat near the corner of the room was Yeonjun, a few tears running down his cheeks as he tried to muffle his cries with his bandaged hand. His eyes were puffy and his lips were swollen and red, which meant that he had been crying for a while before you came in. Now you had seen all sides of Yeonjun, from his icy exterior to his smile and now, his tears. Seeing how weak and vulnerable he was made your heart shatter in your chest; wasn't he invincible? Clearly not, and you knocked on the door softly, hoping that it wouldn't scare him away.

He noticed your presence immediately, seeing you linger at the door with hesitation. He wiped his tears away quickly, pressing on a fake smile as you walked to his seat.

"Oh, it's just you, princess" he sniffled, rubbing his eyes with his non-dominant hand, "what are you doing here? It's already 5pm and you should be home." Despite his usual unmoving appearance, he worried about you and it was clear that there was concern cut in his words. Normally he wasn't the type to worry about others before himself, much less not become angry when they witnessed him become vulnerable, but here you were, breaking all of his walls.

You took a seat next to him, pursing your lips. Of course he wouldn't acknowledge his tears in front of you. But you just sighed, sending him a look that you knew that he was crying.

"What?" He groaned, deciding to look out the window instead of you. No one had witnessed him this way before, so he wasn't going to completely cry in front of you.

"Yeonjun, what's wrong?"

He remained silent, ignoring you. If you kept this up, then-

You grabbed his hand, trying to coax it out of him. "Yeonjun, I'm worried, so please tell me what's wrong."

As if the swipe of your thumb over the back of his hand had finally broken down the dam, Yeonjun started crying again, letting his bottled emotions out. You sat there quietly, looking at your hands clasped together while he cried it out. You were very concerned as to why he was crying and he tried to explain, but the bulge in the back of his throat made it difficult. Finally when he had calmed down, you passed him a tissue from the teacher's table in the back, letting him blow his nose as his voice wobbled.

"I don't know, princess, I... I just feel lonely. It seems as though I have friends like you know, Soobin, but I don't have a person who's my true best friend. Anyone I've met is either scared of me or wants to fight me. Seeing everyone have their own person while I have no one really hurts," he croaked, trying not to let the knot in the back of his throat disrupt his words. You watched him carefully, too scared that doing anything would break his fragile manner even more. His words sunk in and you felt your eyes also pooling with tears. The infamous Choi Yeonjun was in front of you, breaking down, and you never would have guessed the reason why.

The only thing that felt right was opening your arms and beckoning Yeonjun to come to you. He hesitated for a second before crashing into your embrace, his face pressed up against your chest as you rubbed circles on his back. He gripped the back of your shirt tightly, teeth clenching as he let out the remaining emotions. Hearing and feeling him cry broke your heart a thousand times more than whatever hurt you felt before.

If people knew what Yeonjun was like- playful and sweet, then they would have loved him. He wasn't just the scary guy that glared at others who looked at him weird. He also wasn't a person to be scared of, despite the amount of fights he got in. Behind his built walls and cold exterior- that was only for show anyway- was a vulnerable guy who needed love just as every other person needed. It was true for you. You... loved Yeonjun? It was a strange sentence. You never would have thought you would say something like that because the two of you came from different worlds. But here you were, comforting the sweetest guy who needed companionship. You loved Yeonjun and after all that he did for you, you wanted to cheer him up.

"Yeonjun," you made him look at you, bravely cupping his cheeks with all your courage, "I'm your friend. I will always be here, no matter what happens."

His lips, naturally pouty, were still quite red and puffy but he managed to grin at you. His smile was a true one; you could tell that he was genuinely grateful for you. Kisses must have been his way of affection because he pressed one against your cheek softly before looking at you again. You hoped he wouldn't see the red spread across your cheeks like jam.

"Thank you, doll. Thank you for being my friend."

He wrapped his arms around you this time, content with you against his chest. His words repeated like a mantra in your head and your eyes widened at how fast your heart was beating. Maybe you had been in denial before, or maybe you just realized now.

As you felt Yeonjun's comforting cologne fill your nose in the silent classroom, you realized you wanted to stay there forever, in his arms. Friends wouldn't say that, not even if they were a physically affectionate person, much less you.

Were you possibly falling in love with Yeonjun?

Fuck.

─── ♔ ───

This was the first time that you were staying over at Yeonjun's, needing to complete the project for the final grade on Friday. This was the only weekend where both of you were free at the same time, so you decided that it was time to finish the assignment once and for all. Unfortunately, the library was closed, so that meant you had to work somewhere else. Your house wasn't open, mostly because you didn't want to feel embarrassed for bringing a boy home even though it was just a project, which led you to choose Yeonjun's house. Plus, sooner or later he would have to introduce you to his parents, completing the other part of the deal.

That being said, being with Yeonjun was becoming increasingly harder. Trying not to let your gaze linger, trying to think of something else when he was near so you wouldn't become hot and bothered, trying not to freak out, all of that stuff, was so hard- just so he wouldn't be able to tell that you probably had a crush on him. You were doing your best to push it down because you couldn't break one of the only rules: don't fall in love with him. You were just friends and he made that rule in the first place, which meant that he didn't see you romantically at all. But being near him at school and the dog shelter brought you back to your newfound realization every time.

It was the small little things that inevitably made you fall harder each day. His fox-like smile, extremely mischievous and charming whenever he teased you sunk your heart to death even more. The deep timbre of his voice which used to be comforting was now heart attack inducing. It didn't help that you were fake dating as well, and sometimes the sweet things he said in front of other people would have you believing that it was real. You were wrapped around Yeonjun's finger of cuts, and you couldn't do anything to escape.

You stood nervously in front of his house, holding a box of apples that you bought an hour prior. You weren't sure if apples were the right fruit since there were better options like watermelon or oranges, but they were Yeonjun's favorite fruit. Honestly, you weren't sure if the fruit was for Yeonjun or his parents. However, you would still look pretty good in front of his parents even though the whole relationship was orchestrated. Besides that, the perfectionist in you wanted things to go absolutely flawless today.

Before even ringing the bell, the door opened and there stood Yeonjun rubbing the sleepiness in his eyes. He stumbled at the door, clearly tired, in only a black tank and plaid pajamas. His hair was messy thanks to moving between the pillows and comforter, giving him a big case of bed head. Despite how unprepared he was, he was breathtaking, standing in front of you and gazing at you with hooded eyes. It was 11am, but he was never a morning person, always sleeping in whenever he got the chance.

You felt embarrassed holding the apples that he never asked you to bring, and you cleared your throat.

"Were you sleeping? Sorry for waking you, we can arrange another time-"

He giggled, hands moving to grab onto the box to steady your shaking hands. You ignored the way his warm fingers splayed over yours for just a second before snatching his favorite fruit away. You noticed that he wasn't wearing the gauze anymore which meant that it had healed, despite previous scars being there.

"Don't be nervous, princess. My parents will love you just like me," he winked and your heart involuntarily flipped at both his words and wink. Why did he have to say things like that? He knew girls were weak for him, and now you weren't even an exception with the way he was treating you. But you pushed it away again as many times as you had done before, stepping into his house and quietly closing the door.

As soon as you walked in, Yeonjun's parents came running to the door with such excitement that you almost toppled over. They started shaking your hand, clearly very happy that Yeonjun brought a girl home. You laughed at their enthusiasm, trying to get a word in to their questions while Yeonjun watched silently, a proud smile on his face.

"Thank you for the apples! Gosh, can't believe our Yeonjun got such a pretty and sweet girl," his mom cried, pure shock on her face. She cupped your cheeks tightly, examining your face thoroughly and happily. She smelled faintly of oranges and laundry detergent. On the other hand, Mr. Choi was quiet, humming contently. It made you wonder how well they worked together, despite being polar opposites.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes jokingly, too happy with their satisfaction to take offense at her words, "of course, mom, but we really have to-"

"Oh! You guys are doing a project, right?" She squealed, taking away the apples and interrupting him, "Yeonjun, you should show her your room, but please leave the door open. I don't want any grand kids now." She winked and Yeonjun groaned. You felt your cheeks heat up at her words wanting to prove her worries wrong before you felt Yeonjun's hand grip yours. He quickly led you to his room, trying to hide his dusted red cheeks and embarrassment.

...

"Y/NNNN, we've been at this forever. How much research are we going to do?" Yeonjun whined, rubbing his hands down his face. Legs draping over the edge of the bed and his stomach on the mattress, his body splayed lazily against the fluffy pillows. You snuck a glance at him from beside the laptop that you had been furiously typing away at. It had only been an hour since you got to work, a comfortable silence enveloping between the two of you as you tried to finish the project. Despite multiple meet ups, the progress wasn't substantial. Perhaps that was because you and Yeonjun got carried away most of the time, deciding to procrastinate and talk instead of completing boring work.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose hopelessly. It was only a matter of time before he started whining, and you guessed the time was now, an hour in. "Jun, we've barely gotten anything done! This project will be due soon, so we have to finish it today," you scolded, trying to finish the last note on the document.

Yeonjun's desk was really comfortable and you wondered why he wouldn't do his schoolwork with a nice table and chair like this. It felt like your bottom was on clouds as you immediately got comfortable, gathering some motivation to finally get to work. Well, it was schoolwork after all and Yeonjun thought there were better things to do. But with such a comfy desk and great atmosphere in the room, you supposed you could do lots of your work without interruption.

Surprisingly, Yeonjun was actually cleaner than most guys. His room smelled of his cologne of course, but still pretty clean. You weren't even sure how to put it, but you loved it because it smelled like him. Very comforting and musky.

Yeonjun just groaned, interrupting you from your thoughts that incessantly kept rambling about him. "Please, princess? Let's take a break for 5 minutes."

You were sure you wouldn't hear the end of it if you decided to ignore him, so you closed your laptop begrudgingly. You were just starting to get into the groove of things and hopefully could pick it back up later. 5 minutes definitely wouldn't be just 5 minutes since Yeonjun would indefinitely find a way to distract you.

You stood up, expecting to roam the hallways with him but he simply patted the spot beside him on the bed. Inviting you to sit next to him, he shimmied over and you sat down a couple inches away. You avoided eye contact so that he wouldn't see your embarrassment and of course not hear your heart hammering aggressively in your chest. That would be too embarrassing.

You cleared your throat, saying the first thing in mind without thinking. "So... how many girls have you brought in here?" When the words flew out of your lips, you covered your mouth, shocked that you had actually said it. It's not like you were dying to know, but when you first entered his super clean room, it was one of the first thoughts you had. Typically a teenage boy's room would be a little messy, but it seems like Yeonjun had taken care of things despite his nature.

He laughed and you felt relief spread through your chest. Thank goodness he found it funny and not offensive.

"Do you really think that of me? Y/N, you're the first girl that's ever been to my room."

That statement made you feel special more than anything. Before you and Yeonjun had officially met in the dog shelter, you saw him with a bunch of girls. Whenever you went to a party with your ex, you would often see his arm wrapped around a random girl. The girl changed every time you saw him, so you were extremely surprised to know that you were probably the first girl from school in his house. And though your appearance in his room was only for a dumb school project, you pretended that you were special.

"I don't know," you smiled, trying to stifle a giddy giggle, "I used to see you with girls a lot, so I just assumed that, you know..."

He finished your sentence before you could, "No, doll. We're dating now, remember? I'm not going to be with any other girl but you."

But you.

You gulped, trying not to let it affect you. He was naturally flirty, so his words didn't mean anything. You were trying to not fall for him even more, but he knew the exact words to your heart. Gosh, why did he have to be so perfect?

You didn't know what to say to that, repeating his statement in your head over and over again. Yeonjun didn't seem to notice your dilemma, instead curiosity egging him on to ask, "why do you still love him?"

Your eyebrows raised and you looked at him, not expecting a question like that from out of the blue. He had always been really interested in your personal life, sometimes asking questions like what's your favorite childhood memory or place to visit, but they were never really deep like that question.

You cleared your throat, putting your clasped hands on your lap. "I don't know why I still do. We've been dating so long that it feels like I can't live without him."

"But do you love him?" He asked, eyebrows knit together in confusion. He accentuated the word love, a desperate tone in his voice that you couldn't quite put a finger on but knew was there. Even you didn't know the answer yourself, fumbling over your words as you tried to reason with the voice in your head that wanted to say no. It was too soon to say anything or make a standpoint but you knew Yeonjun knew what you were thinking by his intense, driven expression.

"He doesn't deserve you, Y/N," he whispered, his face suspiciously inching closer to yours, "I hope you know that." You remained shocked at the dwindling proximity between the two of you, too stunned to do anything. He seemed to be getting closer by the second, watching you carefully for any sudden move. Then, his lips ghosted near yours, held back by hesitation and indecision. He was close enough where you could feel his breath fan against your cheeks, his nose barely touching yours as he gazed deeply into your eyes.

You instinctively jumped away, instantly on your feet as you laughed nervously.

"I'll, uh, get some apples!"

...

You rushed downstairs in a trance, too shaken up to realize what you had done in the first place. There was no way he was about to kiss you, right? But why was he hovering so close to you, giving you those eyes?! Your heart somehow beat faster. He was this close to kissing you. It made you all the more confused about his feelings and you stood in the stairway like a statue, pressing your trembling hand against your lips.

You finally came back to the current world when you saw Yeonjun's parents staring at you, confused. They were sitting at the dinner table, slicing some apples which you assumed to be for you and Yeonjun as snacks after studying for an hour. Yeonjun's mom raised her elbow, gesturing you to come over.

You inhaled deeply to get some air in, smoothing out your bottoms as you walked up to them.

"Are you feeling hungry? We cut up some apples for you and Jun, if you'd like."

You smiled at her then admired the delicate cuts of the apples. The fruit was nicely cut, spread out in a platter with some peanut butter in the middle. They even cut the skin off too, although it wasn't necessary.

The apples looked so wonderful that you kept admiring them, unable to find the right words to express your gratitude.

"Oh goodness, thank you so much! They look great! I'll bring it up to Yeonjun," you gawked, grabbing the plate and examining it.

His mom smiled warmly, setting the knife down onto the lacy tablecloth. "He really likes you, Y/N. We've never seen him this way before- all warm and sweet- so thank you."

Feeling shaky while holding the plate, you did your best to steady your trembling legs up the stairs. Her words repeated in your head like a broken record as you brought the apples up to Yeonjun who was eagerly waiting for your arrival, despite the haunting project.

─── ♔ ───

Tonight was the second night that you were going to make your ex jealous. You weren't really looking forward to it; after a while, you realized that you didn't feel anything for him and it was becoming exhausting having to hold a front. The guy was in the back of your head and barely there in the first place unless someone asked about your heart. Instead, all you could think about was Yeonjun. Almost everyday the two of you were together, making up new inside jokes and going to restaurants. It seemed so natural being with him that you forgot that the relationship was merely an agreement.

Though you knew he cared for you, you were pretty sure that he didn't have any feelings whatsoever. Sure he was flirty here and there but that was just who he was. But you knew he still cared. It was evident in the way he treated you, making sure you were always comfortable at parties or at his place. One time when you lost your favorite bracelet at the dog shelter, he took his motorcycle late at night and looked everywhere even though one of the dogs had it in its mouth and ran away with it. That was one of the sweetest things he had done for you, besides countless others. But that didn't mean he loved you, not romantically at least. You were just his friend anyway.

That being said, behind closed doors where you were just friends was unbearable. You weren't sure how much longer you could hide it; he was always in your thoughts like a ghost and the building chemistry between the two of you would soon give away your feelings. In public he was always holding your hand or even kissing your forehead depending on who was watching and each time you would fall a little more.

Today wasn't an exception, thankfully. As per usual, Yeonjun picked you up to go to Jackson Wang's party (sorry yall, I just had to), the reason partly being that you were going to make your ex jealous again. The other reason was that you two wanted to hang out, something that you did nearly everyday. It may have been hard to believe since it seemed that Yeonjun and you came from opposite worlds, but being him with him was like breathing; it was so habitual and natural that it felt wrong if he was away.

Yeonjun led you towards the drinks after you asked for a beer, hand holding yours tightly as if you would easily get lost. You noted how well his hand fit in yours, memorizing every finger that wound through the gaps of your hand. His hand was so warm, causing your body temperature to heat up as you tried to get a hold of yourself and not give away your feelings.

"Don't drink too much now, okay, princess? I don't want you throwing up on the way home," he handed you a red cup before gently patting the top of your head. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes to which he chuckled at. Unbeknownst to you, he kept thinking of how endearing you were.

"I won't," you giggled naughtily, knowing that you would most likely go against his words, "Aren't you going to drink as well?"

Even though he was your "boyfriend," you wouldn't let him dictate how much fun you were going to have. After all, it was a party and with him by your side the entire night, you knew were going to have the time of your life.

Yeonjun shook his head, scrunching his nose in disgust. "No. I'm taking you home, so I'm not going to get drunk and possibly have you hurt." He said those words as if it were fact, upset that you would even ask that in the first place. He truly, really cared about your well-being; didn't you see that? Anything that would put you in danger was an immediate no, despite how much trouble he got into.

You felt your heart pick up pace and you shook your head at how your body reacted. It was so hard to hide how fluttery you felt and drinking definitely wouldn't help. You decided to ignore it instead, drawing circles around the rim of the cup.

"What time do you think we'll be home? I have to get up early to help the dog shelter tomorrow," you continued to carry on the conversation, leaning against the wall as you took a sip from the cup. It burned your throat and you gagged, feeling the contents spill down and leave a trail of flames.

The colorful neon lights flashed against Yeonjun's face as he laughed at your reaction, grabbing your cup as you coughed aggressively to get the burning sensation out as best you could. He steadied himself against the wall too, one shoulder against it as he shifted his body weight to his right.

"Don't worry, princess. We'll be home at a reasonable time. I need to help my little corgis tomorrow too."

You watched him expectantly while he eyed your drink. With no hesitation, he took a swig himself, not taking a sip like you. You flushed at how willingly he drank from your cup, seemingly not caring that it was an indirect kiss. When he came up for air, letting the drink drip against his throat as he finished it all, you were not super shocked that he remained unfazed. He just wiped his lips with his thumb, proudly slamming the cup against the table as if it was a competition.

Rolling your eyes, you looked at the cup that was completely empty. "Hey! That was supposed to be mine! And you're not supposed to be drinking."

He giggled, one hand covering his mouth and the other thrown up in guilt. You couldn't help the smile on your face as you laughed with him, genuinely not upset that he drank all of the alcohol as long as he made it up to you.

"I'll get you another one right now, I promise. And you of all people should know that I don't get drunk; I'm a heavyweight!" What he said was true. Considering the amount of alcohol that he drank, you were actually surprised that he didn't just drop down and throw up after 3 cups. That was Yeonjun though, your boy full of surprises each incoming day.

He grabbed your hand with the vacant one, bringing you closer to press a tender kiss against your forehead. You smiled brightly, feeling his presence envelop you completely with him so near. You swore you could stay like this forever and it seemed as if the world slipped away as he held you close. A few seconds later he reluctantly pulled away, winking with a cup in hand. You waved him a shy goodbye, smiley and smitten as you tried to bite back an excited grin.

You felt someone tap on your shoulder and you turned around, not expecting who it was. There you stood face to face with Taehyun who seemed to be watching the two of you a while ago. The look on his face told you everything- he approved of Yeonjun which was a sweet relief because he was your best friend. You squealed as you hugged him excitedly, euphoria coursing through your veins as you pushed back the thought that the whole relationship was fake.

...

It had been about 30 minutes since Yeonjun was away. At first you weren't concerned, but started to worry down the line. He never took that long from you when you went somewhere together, especially not at a party. At max it would be 10 minutes, so you couldn't help but wonder where he was, wandering hopelessly through the bodies of people swaying to the beat. You huffed, not finding him anywhere until you went upstairs with her.

"Yeonjun?" You called him, your voice too soft for him to hear. You were a bit far and it didn't help that there was blasting music and deafening shouts from time to time.

Blinking your eyes a couple times to make sure that what you were seeing was right, you looked at the scene in front of you, jaw dropped. Not only were you astounded that he had been away for so long with her, but also at how beautiful she was. Her hair, glowing against the dim light of the hallway, was absolutely mesmerizing and perfectly voluminous. Her silhouette, curving in such a way that made you cover your stomach ashamedly, was near impossible and you wondered how someone could be as thin as that. Ah yes, the girl that Yeonjun was talking to was one of his older exes, confident and pretty as could be.

Involuntarily you felt tears prickling at your eyes as you couldn't take your eyes off of them. If they were a couple again, they would be unstoppable. Yeonjun was incredibly handsome and she was incredibly gorgeous. She was exactly his type: mature, older, probably funny and of course, beautiful. You knew how much he loved her in the past before they labeled themselves as "incompatible," calling it off because of how much they were arguing.

Unfortunately and against your wishes, you were particularly upset, watching your "boyfriend" talk to one of his exes in the past. It's no surprise that Yeonjun has a line of girls that he has linked up with, but it still got to you. There was no reason to, but because of your feelings, you felt a massive hole in your heart. Lying and saying you were merely upset because his conversation with his ex would ruin your image wouldn't be the truth. You were upset because you wanted him to be with you, talking to you with that mischievous fox-like smile of his.

You took a swig of the alcohol bottle on the floor, not caring that it could potentially be drugged or dangerous. The alcohol burned your throat as you drizzled it down, but that didn't matter. It didn't compare to the amount of hurt you felt wholly in your chest, lingering without shame. The way he was blatantly gazing at her like he was in love had your grip tightening around the red cup. As selfish as it was, it was supposed to be you. He was supposed to look at you like that, not her! You were sure she probably saw you staring at this point, but again, you didn't care. Insecurities flowing through your whole body, you looked them up and down no matter how much it hurt to do so. Besides you weren't even with him, there was no reason to be upset.

It wasn't until you felt two fingers tapping on your shoulder that you turned around quickly, anger in your steps. You squinted your eyes, thinking the drink was blurring your vision and causing you to have illusions. However, the person who tapped on your shoulder was indeed your ex, a grimace on his face as he looked between you and Yeonjun who was speaking to his ex.

"What do you want?!" You spat out venomously, trying not to let the animosity slip out of you. You couldn't handle another burden at this point- let there be too much and you would explode.

He sighed, putting his hands up cautiously. There was something off about him, but you couldn't put a finger on it. You were more surprised that he came to talk to you, given that he was ignoring you for the past couple of the month that he was with that girl.

"Nothing," he gulped nervously, "I just.. wanted to know. Are you happy with Yeonjun?"

You raised an eyebrow at his question, not expecting anything like that. It took a moment for his words to sink in and you furrowed your eyebrows this time, taking a step back.

"Of course I am," the words rolled off your tongue immediately although you weren't particularly happy with him at that instant, "why are you asking?"

He nervously rocked back and forth, finding it hard to look in your eyes. There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you and he cleared his throat, speaking up.

"Y/N, I miss you. I just can't get you out of my head, and I don't know why. I want you back and I shouldn't have ever left you in the first place," he admitted quietly, finding it hard to say. He scratched the back of his neck as your throat went dry, jaw dropping at his words. This had to be a prank; considering how happy he looked with that girl a week earlier, there was no way he'd be saying something like that now.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you started to back away, wanting to get away from him. "No fucking way. You're not allowed to say that and you have no right. You're horrible."

When you took a step back, he started going towards you, trying to calm you down. He was foolish; of course that action didn't help and you felt your steps quicken before you were backed up against a wall.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It was really wrong and I know that now. I shouldn't have done it, but now I know I want you."

Your insides twisted in protest, the bile on the tip of your tongue as you yelled, "you cheated on me! We have nothing now, and I'm with Yeonjun!"

He didn't seem to take the hint but stepped backwards enough to give you space. You felt confined; he was the only one that you could see in your blurred line of vision. His presence was suffocating, but he failed to realize that.

"We will always have something, Y/N. We dated for such a long time that feelings can't go away so easily."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. He was such a hypocrite.

"Everything died when you got with her. I don't want to be with you anymore, so please just leave me alone."

As hurt as he was by your words, he wasn't going to give up so easily- which wasn't surprising given how stubborn he was. He roughly grabbed your arms, puckering his lips as if a kiss would fix your hurt, insecurities, guilt- everything. You gagged, holding your breath and shaking your head as his grip tightened against your wrists. He was a mere inch away when you felt the air pull from in front of you, and you stood face to face with Yeonjun whose chest was heaving as your ex fell to the floor.

It all happened in a millisecond: your ex holding his cheek with hurt written all over his face as he looked between the two of you. You ran to Yeonjun's side, holding his arm as he examined the hand that threw a punch. There was a slight frown on his face but more than anything you could tell that he was angry, judging by how his shoulders tensed in the dim light.

Lots of people started chanting for a fight, pulling up their phones and flashlights as your ex scrambled to get on his feet. Yeonjun got into position, ready to throw another one until he felt you weakly pull at his arm with tears in your eyes. His muscles relaxed immediately and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. All he wanted was for you to be safe and even though he never forfeited from a fight, you were his top priority.

Your mind was cloudy as he led you out of the party, pushing people away so that you could make it through without getting lost. He made sure that you were okay, looking at you every second as he took you to the door and into the chilly, crisp night.

...

Yeonjun remained silent, jaw clenching as he took you to his motorcycle. You didn't bother saying anything, trying to focus on your breath that was creating a white cloud in the night sky. You glanced at the busy house, seeing drunk people wander through the driveway as well as the backyard before snapping back to the angered figure in front of you. Your thoughts were all over the place and it's a miracle that you weren't throwing up at this point. It'd probably be 5 minutes before you got to the motorbike, since there were too many cars parallel parked for him to find a good spot.

All of a sudden he stopped in front of you, bringing you to a cautious halt. Your heels stopped clicking against the gray sidewalk and you felt his hand tighten on yours. He turned around, clearly frustrated as he aggressively ran a finger through his hair.

"What the hell was that?! Why were you talking to him?!" He demanded, not loosening your hands woven together. You looked down, not wanting to let go either.

"Why are you asking? You were talking to her while you left me by myself for- for however long that was! You left me alone which is why he came up to me in the first place!"

Yeonjun's jaw clenched, becoming more frustrated with no answer. Seeing you talk to your ex for a while was eating away at him, wearing him down and all he wanted was to know why. For both the way his heart squeezed and why you were talking to your ex in the first place.

His tone became more gentle, knowing that yelling was not the way to go. "You know that it's not like that! I just got carried away in conversation with her, and I'm sorry. But I still don't understand why you were engaging with your ex if you don't like him anymore."

You scoffed, choosing to ignore the last part, "just say that you still love her, Yeonjun." He was right. You were guilty and he knew exactly why. You didn't love your ex anymore, so there was no reason to be giving him the time of day.

Saying that only seemed to make him more agitated and he looked deep in your eyes, a tactic that would make you listen to him. You gazed into his as well, getting lost in them and feeling your anger wash away. He held your shoulders tightly, shaking his head.

"I don't love her anymore, Y/N. I don't love her."

You didn't say anything, upset enough with recent events and the fact that you were arguing. What could you say to that? You couldn't keep arguing here forever; your fingers were going numb.

"Then why were you talking? If you don't love her, how come you looked at her like that? You look at me like that..." You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, hearing his complicated silence as a rejection.

The wind only became more violent against your frame and you shivered, feeling the chill against your arms prickling at the freezing temperature. Yeonjun sighed, giving up on being mad, and wrapped his leather jacket around the upper part of your body. He immediately softened, noticing how cold you were even though you tried to hide it by crossing your arms. Once he laid his jacket on your shoulders, you tried to protest, trying to shimmy it off. However, he tsked, bending down to your level, face-to face. You felt yourself freeze up, not because of the temperature, but because of how close he was.

"I promise I don't love her," he sighed, cupping your cheek. "Can't you see?"

You were only more confused, your expression twisting painfully as it was getting harder to breathe with how close he was. "Then-"

He groaned, looping his fingers in your hair before bringing your face forward, "shut up, I just want you."

His lips crashed against yours roughly, pressing tenderly despite how badly he needed you. At first he was hesitant, waiting for your reaction, but when you returned the affection, he let it all go. You melted into the kiss and him as well, his hand rummaging against the lower part of your body to bring you closer. The way he kissed you was ravenous; it was as though he was starving and you were the only thing that could satiate his hunger. You closed your eyes, trying to treasure this moment as much as possible and memorizing how desperately he kissed you. Yeonjun's tongue swiped against the top part of your lip and you granted him permission for a more passionate kiss. The moment lasted forever; there were no words to say except that he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

Eventually the two of you had to pull away for air, panting to get some oxygen in. No longer did the cold night bother you due to Yeonjun's jacket and how hot you felt. You hoped that Yeonjun wouldn't see how flustered you were, but it was no use. He knew you inside and out and by the way he looked at you with so much intensity, you knew that he knew.

He broke the silence, catching his breath.

"I can't do this anymore, doll. I only want you. And I want you to only look at me," He wiped the shiny gleam of your kiss on your lips with his thumb, rubbing circles as your mouth was still parted for air.

You gulped, feeling your breath hitch in your throat, "but I thought we weren't supposed to fall in love."

He smiled at how you didn't know anything before pulling your face towards his again and admitting: "I already broke that rule before we made it."

─── ♔ ───

When you awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and a hazy vision, you were extremely confused. The light poured through the window but the difference was that you weren't in your house. You blinked a few times, rubbing your eyes as you tried to remember what happened last night. You had gotten terribly drunk which made it harder to recall the events that happened.

Once your eyes adjusted to the harsh, warm light, you realized that you were laying in none other than Yeonjun's bed. Clutching the blanket against your chest, you sat up and looked beside you but there was no said boy which confused you. Your mind, shooting at a million miles a second started wondering if you had actually slept with Yeonjun. Quickly looking down at your body, you sighed in relief when you realized that your clothes were still on. The only thing that changed was that you were wearing one of Yeonjun's hoodies.

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing a sleepy Yeonjun. His black hair was tousled everywhere due to bed head. He looked comfortable in a black tank and plaid pajamas but even so, you found him irresistible in this light- not caring about his looks and completely snuggly. As soon as you looked at him, the memories came flooding back: his jealousy, your fake dating plan succeeding, and yes, the kiss.

Your fingers grazed your lips, nothing being said as Yeonjun curled up next to you. Normally, he wouldn't be this silent; usually he would be cracking jokes and trying to put a smile on your face. This time though he seemed off, as if he didn't know how to act around you even though that kiss strengthened a potential relationship. You stared at him, noticing the way his lips pursed and his inability to find the right words to say. His behavior was super strange and out of the blue.

Placing one of his blue linen pillows on your lap, you whispered, "Yeonjun? Are we going to talk about last night?"

He wasn't saying anything, and your heart sunk with each moment that passed. You took his silence as rejection, thinking that he regretted it- the kiss, that is.

Sighing, Yeonjun laid his head against the board of the bed, "Y/N.... look, I'm really sorry for kissing you. It won't happen again."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to understand what he meant. Momentarily you were confused and when your brain finally comprehended his words, your fragile heart that was already sinking fell to the floor. He only confirmed your doubt: that he never wanted anything to happen between the two of you and it shouldn't have happened.

You nodded your head with tears in your eyes, careful not to accidentally let them fall out. If he looked now instead of his scarred fingers, then he would see how weak you were.

"Oh." It was harder to speak with the lump in the back of your throat. "I guess."

Yeonjun still refused to meet your eyes, looking at the wall from his right side. The only thing you could see was his messy black hair, hiding his true expression and cowardice. What he said next shattered your heart, leaving you incredulous after all that he said and acted like last night.

"Let's call this fake dating thing off, "his voice wobbled, betraying what he truly thought, "you got what you wanted; he wants you again. You can go back."

His falter went unnoticed by you and you too looked at the wall on your left this time, praying that he wouldn't notice the warm water dripping down your cheeks. Your vulnerability was uncontrollable, tears spilling in a flow that couldn't be stopped even if you rubbed your eyes multiple times. Of course he wouldn't be able to commit to you. He's had so many girls wrapped around his fingers and there's no way he could give that up now. It was typical of Yeonjun, so why did you expecting something more from fake dating?

You couldn't bring yourself to answer both the internal question and him. Yeonjun slowly got up, finding it hard to leave before muttering, "I'll take you home."

"Okay," you said, not caring that he could probably hear the cry behind it. Even though you didn't want to accept that what you had between the two of you was truly over, all you wanted was to go home instead of staying in the sheets where he almost kissed you in.

─── ♔ ───

Despite you and Yeonjun being good friends before you decided to fake date, you barely heard from him which meant that he was intentionally ignoring you. Every text you sent him would be unanswered, calls wouldn't be returned, and even physical appearances would be one to nothing. You knew which days he went to the dog shelter as well, but you guessed he was smart enough to know that you would look for him there- which led him to come on unpredictable days. It seemed to be a coincidence at first, but even missing the classes you shared together? Come on.

One kiss ruined everything. You didn't regret it, but he did and now he was avoiding you like you were the plague. It hurt so much. You felt as though you had lost him completely, both him as a best friend and potential lover. If your previous interactions hadn't existed, anyone would've thought that you were never friends in the first place just because of his behavior. Obviously he didn't want to be near you so you just gave up in the next weeks that passed.

On the other hand, your ex wanted you back, so why weren't you happy? It wasn't even worth it, conjuring up a plan to make your ex jealous which yes, did work, but now you didn't have Yeonjun.

On one of the days where you had to stay longer after school because of club affairs, you saw Yeonjun walking side by side with Soobin and laughing. Though you didn't want to admit it, you felt jealous. Their friendship was like what you had, minus the affection. But you shoved that feeling away, more determined to get a conversation out of Yeonjun and why he was ignoring you.

You ran up to them, tugging the back of Yeonjun's shirt. He was smiling as he turned back, but as soon as he saw you, his face dropped. Soobin turned around as well, frowning when he saw you.

"Why are you ignoring me?" You demanded in a quiet voice, so soft that he could barely hear it.

Yeonjun glanced at Soobin cautiously and rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Because I don't want to be friends with you."

Before you could say anything, both of them turned around and continued as if everything were normal. You, on the other hand, remained like a statue in the hallway, looking down at the floor and trying to convince yourself that what he said was a lie. What could you possibly say to that? Try and beg him that you could fix what he didn't want to repair? You were his person that he was always hoping for, like when he was crying in that classroom one day. You were his best friend, belonging only to him and he knew that. He always wanted that and you were right there but now you were nothing.

How could he be so cold just because of one kiss?

...

It seemed as though the situation got worse. Even though you were also ignoring Yeonjun, there'd be rare times you had to interact. For example, the fact that you sat together in one of your classes. Yeonjun who had been skipping to get high outside of the school, couldn't have one more absence or else he would fail the class. And considering that his parents would be enormously upset with him skipping, he was forced to show up against his will and see you.

It was as though his heart broke when he saw you with your head down. Of course you knew he was there, but now you didn't even wave a greeting or acknowledge him like before. However, he reminded himself that he couldn't be upset about that. You keeping your distance like him was what he wanted, so why did it hurt so much?

He got annoyed with himself for feeling this way and when you looked up and saw him sitting beside you, you automatically assumed that he was mad you were there. Moving your chair away to the opposite side of the black table, you took each school supply and tried not to pay attention to him. Yeonjun was quite scary when he was mad. Not wanting to contribute to anymore distance between the two of you, you made sure not to even look at him, not even a small peak no matter how much you were dying to see if he was affected.

He adjusted his leather jacket accordingly before looking at you, interpreting that you didn't want to be near him. With no shame he kept his eyes fixed on you, burning a hole through your figure as you pretended to scribble something on your bejeweled notebook with a ballpoint pen. He watched you intently before tapping your shoulder gently.

"Hey, do you have the notes from the past lessons?"

You perked up feeling his warm fingers dance on your shoulder. Surprised that he was actually talking to you, your eyes widened instantly and it was hard to get a word out. It had been so long since you heard his voice filling your ear with his low register. How could he be so casual asking a simple question like that after he made it seem like you were nothing?

You slid the notebook towards him without a word, hiding your mouth with the palm of your hand. Two can play at this game.

He pretended to examine the notes, not really caring about getting them down. All he wanted was to hear your voice which was pretty selfish considering the way he treated you the past week, so it was deserving when you remained silent. He flipped through the pages quickly, trying to distract himself by skimming through your handwriting. He wasn't the type of student that genuinely cared about his grades, as evident as him skipping this particular class.

He ran his fingers through his hair due to his bangs falling in front of his eyes. You stole a glance as discreetly as you could, biting your bottom lip nervously. The teacher would start her lesson soon and you would need that notebook back. Yet, Yeonjun clung to it, seemingly trying to remember every page that he turned. It was rather unexpected- the way he was inspecting the papers as if he cared- but he was also unexpectedly not your friend anymore.

In 20 minutes, Yeonjun finished shuffling through the notebook. He held it for a second, hesitant to give it back. Ungratefully you had already begun making new notes on some scratch paper, trying not to be occupied with the fact that the guy you wanted so badly was sitting beside you.

Likewise he slid the notebook towards you, a gentle tone in his voice. "Thank you, doll."

The use of the nickname had your heart fluttering and shattering simultaneously. For a second it seemed as though everything was back to normal, and you almost cracked. Being called doll was so special; sometimes it'd make you giggle because of how cheesy it was. But you stayed quiet, grabbing it with crumpled hands to finish up the lesson. He didn't deserve any words from you, not after the way he treated you like you were nothing. He didn't even want to be your friend anyway. Most likely he used the pet name because he wanted you to hang around, still pining for a love that will never come.

In reality, he just wanted to hear your soothing laugh again.

─── ♔ ───

You walked into the lunch room reluctantly, going to your usual spot where no one bothered you. Thank goodness that your ex got the memo and screwed off, though that very well may have been because he could be hit again. Memories of you and Yeonjun at the table made your muscles feel weak; you couldn't bear sitting there but still wanted to because it was one of the first places that you and him had laughed together. This table was the one where you sat that one particular day, realizing that Yeonjun wasn't scary at all. Now where has he gone? His absence didn't make anything feel right nowadays.

You pulled out the sandwich you packed this morning in a hurry, biting down though you were at a loss of appetite. Despite how much you didn't find pleasure in eating when your heart was broken, you forced yourself to take bites regardless of how you were feeling. That was when your stomach growled, much to your embarrassment. You hoped that no one heard that, and you scanned the room only to find Yeonjun sitting on one of the tables in front of you.

Him being there wasn't out of the ordinary, really since it was lunch after all, until you realized that he was talking to that same ex he said he didn't love. Your insides began turning in your stomach as you couldn't pull your eyes away, the feelings of hurt intensifying throughout your whole body as you watched from the sidelines.

Yeonjun reached out to tuck a stray hair behind her hair, smiling softly as he did so. She laughed, completely flustered with how sweet the action was- and you couldn't blame her. Every time Yeonjun did that, you felt your legs turn into jelly. And now, the two of them looked like an actual couple, their chemistry making everyone around them smile. They were meant to be, and you couldn't dream of coming in between that. The news probably spread that you and Yeonjun broke up, even though it was never real.

You failed to notice Yeonjun's bandaged up hand, too hurt to see that he was acting recklessly without you by his side.

At this point, everything started to make sense. He was still in love with her, even if he denied it while looking in your eyes. He wasn't a liar, but now you were fighting back those thoughts of his relentless honesty because of how he was acting with her: sweet and gentle. He always acted that way with you and if he was telling the truth, then that meant that his actions with her now signified his genuine feelings. You felt your eyes water as you began to realize what was happening. He was just playing with your heart and maybe... just maybe, using you to make his ex jealous as well.

You cursed yourself for being stupid, for not being able to see it sooner and actually thinking you had a chance. At least you had a reason to hate him now instead of crying in your pillows every night due to missing him with your whole heart and soul. Not being able to stand the scene in front of you any longer, you shakily grabbed the sandwich in front of you which now looked completely unappetizing. With clenched and trembling hands, you ran to the bin near the door. It didn't help that the trash was beside Yeonjun, but at this point you didn't care. You needed to get out of that stuffy room before everyone saw you cry.

The sound the door made as you ripped it open had Yeonjun whipping his head in your direction. You darted out of the room before he could stare any longer with his heart on his sleeve. He felt his ex tugging at the ends of his shirt for attention, but he just gazed at the closed door with glossy eyes.

He wished that she was you.

─── ♔ ───

You hadn't bothered to throw on a jacket, wearing Yeonjun's shirt you still had to return, as you walked to the dog shelter with tears in your eyes. The icy rain from the winter weather and violent chill of the loud winds didn't compare to the coldness you were feeling on the inside. It didn't matter if you got wet; to be honest, you didn't really care. You had to force yourself to show up at the place where good memories were made with Yeonjun, the one who betrayed you with his silence and lies. It was too painful and not even the cute dogs could lure you out of hiding. Perhaps it had been a month since you volunteered which was also when he started giving you the silent treatment, but who was counting?

Opening the door with freezing hands, you were welcomed with a warm guest of air as well as excited barks from the caged dogs. They all pawed at the steel in front of them, enthusiastic at your sudden appearance at 5pm when it was already dark outside. For the first time in a while you giggled, finding them extremely adorable as their tails wiggled aggressively.

You walked to Yeonjun's favorite corgi, crouching down to tickle his chin. Several raindrops from your clothes fell onto the yellowed floor and you made a mental note to mop it up later. Right now you would be giving attention to the cute doggies that you missed. In return, the corgi leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and licking your wet hands from the rain.

"You're so cute!" You cooed, speaking in a baby voice as you opened his cage. The dog barked in return, spinning around in circles with excitement after not seeing you for so long.

That's when the door leading to the supplies and kibble for the dog opened, making you turn your neck. The creak of the door disrupted your moment with the corgi and lo and behold, you looked directly in the eyes of no one else but Yeonjun.

Your heart dropped, and the only thing you could hear was the barks of all the dogs in the room. Both of you froze in place, clearly not expecting to see each other. Yeonjun dropped the broom, a loud thud clanking on the floor as it rolled in your direction. As for you, you felt like you couldn't breathe the more you looked at him, only being reminded of the pain that was the result of being his friend and agreeing to his idea of fake dating. It was too much at once, the pain of seeing him not wanting you to be there as well as the already present pain from the past month.

All of it had combined- the hurt and distress getting to you before any competent thoughts, and you turned on your feet, running to the door. Hurriedly grabbing the handle, you forced the entrance open and ran into the dark night, not hearing the fast footsteps following you from not too far behind.

...

You were a complete mess, running in any direction you could just to avoid the boy you wanted to hate so much. The rain splashed beneath your feet as you tried to get in some air, panting heavily in order to calm yourself down. The wind was picking up more violently this time and it definitely wasn't a friendly condition to be sprinting in. The only place you found solace in was in an alleyway, where the winds bothered the place less.

"Y/N! Wait!" A voice called from behind you, clearly distressed and hurt. You shook your head, finding it harder to breathe as you pushed against the icy ground with all your might. Soon your hair and clothes became soaking wet as the rain became heavier, pouring out generously. Strands of wet hair fell in front of your eyes, making it hard to see. You pushed them all to the side, knowing that it wouldn't be long till they popped up again. You didn't care. You just needed to keep running.

Unfortunately, you felt the ground below betraying you as you made the wrong step. Flying back, you felt your legs lift into the air, flinging you towards the puddle underneath your body. With a big thud and a new ache on your bum, you finally let your feelings out, spilling your tears and sobs that had been bottled up for so long. It was pathetic- you were crying on the ground without a care in the world, no longer trying to lie yourself and say that you were fine.

It wasn't long when you felt someone panting beside you, exhausted with the amount of running and trying to catch up. You rubbed your eyes, instantly knowing who it was but refusing to believe it. Not daring to look at the boy in front of you, you shut your eyes, letting the last of your tears fall out without a sob.

When you felt something warm drape on your shoulders, you opened your eyes just to see Yeonjun's leather jacket on your body. Warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the unforgiving weather, you gave up fighting and let it cover you. You were too cold and tired to shimmy it off. Your butt also hurt because of the fall from earlier, so that was another thing.

Yeonjun took a moment to catch his breath before asking between pants, "are you okay?"

Hearing him say that only made you irate. For the past month you were drowning in sadness and blame, never being able to get angry for how he treated you after that one kiss. This time you allowed yourself to feel all the types of pain, anger washing over your body easily as you stood up from the hard and drenched ground.

Each muscle within your body ached as you forced yourself up, pointing a finger in Yeonjun's face. He backed away with his hands up in an attempt to calm you down which was of course, to no avail. You stood your ground, planting your feet onto the slippery, dangerous concrete.

"Don't you dare say that, Yeonjun. You can't just pretend like you care about me after the way you treated me."

He gulped, blinking remorsefully as he bit the inside of his lip, "I know, and I'm sorry. I just..."

"You just what?," you cried, shooting him an incredulous look, "you have no idea how it feels, being left by someone who promised they would always stay! You're a liar!"

Yeonjun shook his head frantically in response, taking a step towards you, "hey, I'm not a liar! I know I hurt you, but I know I'm not a liar."

Anger had too much control over you, spilling in your words that used to be sadness and probably still was. Your eyes had begun glossing as well, catching you by surprise as you choked over the questions you were dying to ask.

"Then why were you acting that way towards her? You told me you weren't in love with her and there you were, acting the same way you did with me!"

"I don't love her, when will you get it through your thick skull? There was just something in her hair," Yeonjun sighed, his tone becoming soft at the end of the sentence. He knew how it looked, but there really was just something in her hair.

If anything, you felt like you were punched in the chest. His voice getting quieter made it seem like he was hiding something, hiding his true feelings due to embarrassment. You misunderstood, interpreting his falter as a bad attempt at covering up deceit.

"Yeonjun, stop lying," you sobbed, your voice becoming high pitched and wobbly, "please just stop lying. You've been avoiding me and now you're acting like you care, so which one is it?"

He didn't say anything, watching the wet on your cheeks come from both the rain and your eyes. Too shocked at your outburst, Yeonjun stayed noiseless, the lump in the back of his throat prohibiting him from saying any more stupid things. You, on the other hand, tried to get yourself together, trying to let everything you had been thinking about for so long to come out.

"You just used me, didn't you? To make her jealous? And I know that I did the same, but at least I was honest instead of using my parents as a dumb excuse."

You sniffled and your voice became heavy, resonating in your chest. "You can't just act like you care about me when you said you didn't want to be my friend." Even saying those words out loud was like a knife to the chest because it made it all the more true.

With each word you were rambling on, Yeonjun took a step closer to you in the already tight alleyway. You failed to notice, too caught up in your words until it was too late. With one hand, Yeonjun positioned himself between you and the wall, his palm against the red bricks. You felt utterly trapped, only being able to look at either him or the ground. You chose the latter, too emotional to look him in the eyes.

His face became close to yours, bending down as his other hand cupped your cheek. "Because it's true, Y/N. I don't want to be just your friend."

Fingers moving down to grab your chin, he gently forced you to look up at him where there was so much regret and sadness behind his eyes.

"I love you so much that I can't stay away from you even though I think my absence is for your well-being."

"What makes you say that?" You gasped, searching his eyes just to find that same depression.

He laughed incredulously, letting go of your face for a second.

"Y/N, who are we kidding?" He motioned to himself with a quick gesture, flashing you with his white, bandaged hand, "I'm Yeonjun. Choi Yeonjun. I'm not good for you." There was emphasis through his words, strength behind each one.

"I get into lots of fights and I scare everyone away. I'm not good at school and I'm not even sure I have a future," he paused, fumbling over his words, "you, however; you're just this little perfect thing. You're sweet, funny, smart, and so incredibly beautiful- that I'm scared I'll ruin you if I get any closer. I tried to distance myself, but I failed."

He paused for a second, now finding it hard to look at you face to face. His head hung low in embarrassment before his eyes snapped back to yours, hopelessly truthful and desperate.

"I have always loved you. From the moment I first laid eyes on you to the first time I heard your voice, I fell so hard. I never used you to make anyone jealous and yes, using my parents was just a dumb excuse. I wanted to have you in any way that I could, so I suggested fake dating," he admitted.

You were at a loss of words, tripping over your tongue but coming out with nothing. Yeonjun sighed, continuing his long and overdue monologue.

"As I've said, I already broke that stupid rule of not falling in love. Even before you knew, I was head over heels for you because of how much you cared about me and listened to my stories. I'm sorry for hurting you and not being honest. If I could take it back, I would. I made a promise not to hurt you, but look at where we're at. See? You're better off without me," he chuckled pessimistically, quickly turning to go.

"Yeonjun!" You grasped his hand, forcing him to turn around towards you. Without thinking, you planted a kiss on his lips, grabbing his cheeks as you stood on your tippy toes.

Yeonjun melted into the kiss, feeling his cheeks become warm as he combed his fingers through your soaked hair. The rain fell around the two of you as you kissed Yeonjun's wet lips, desperate to have him in any way you could. He was the same as well, smiling in between each one and trying to pull you closer even though it was impossible. He tasted so sweet, forever engraving his name on your lips that was always going to be his.

When you had to pull away for air, thunder struck. Both of you laughed and Yeonjun simply pulled you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of yours. You clung onto his shirt, praying that he would never go away again.

"You can't just do that. You know how weak I am for you already."

You giggled, finding the most comfortable position in his chest, "I don't care. I love you, Yeonjun." His chest was made for you and no one else. It would be your spot to stay in from now on and even before all your platonic and romantic feelings mixed up, he was yours.

"Does this mean we're friends now?" You joked, looking up at him.

He smirked, shaking his head. He looped one of his hands in yours, bringing your face to his again that cold night, "no, it means that you're mine forever, princess. I better not hear any complaints as your boyfriend, okay?"

"I'll only look at you," you sighed against his lips, feeling heaven on earth, "I'm only yours."

The stormy night continued like that, with you and Yeonjun exchanging kisses and laughs back and forth. Thunder clapped above you, deafening and dreary, but it didn't matter at the moment. What was the worst thing that could happen? Getting sick? Perhaps yeah, but at least you had the boy of your dreams willingly getting sick with you. It was funnily simple enough: you finally had Yeonjun, and Yeonjun could finally have you after pining for so long. Nothing else mattered, and the world slowly slipped away as you held him close to mark the start of your forever.

—-

Released: July 3, 2024 (12am CT)

Thoughts: FREAKING OUT. I've always wanted to do something like this in forever and now i'm finally getting around to do it after 4 years which is pretty insane?! I absolutely love bad boy yeonjun concept and I hope this was a good read! seeing how much people enjoyed it back in 2020 only encouraged me to write this long ass story. hopefully y'all enjoyed <3 I sure did while writing hehe (I was actually dying at all the scenes where they almost and then actually did kiss.) As always, thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more goodies in the future :)

Tags:

[babyhatesreality]

Nightlight

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x Little!F!Reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, pet names, angsty/anxious/insecure baby, a few tears, Stucky being the best daddies ever.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

"Alright love bug, time to get out," Steve said, smiling as he watched you play with your tub toys. He held out the small plastic basket to you. You tossed your toys one by one into it, cheering proudly each time like you'd made a half-court shot. Steve of course cheered right along with you. Once all your toys were put up, he hung the basket on the hooks on the tub wall to dry, and helped you out. He wrapped the big fluffy towel around you. "Gotta hug you dry!" he said, giving you a big squeeze and making you giggle. "I heard that kisses help you dry off too, isn't that right?" he added very seriously, before attacking your face with noisy smooches. You squealed and playfully twisted like you were trying to get away, but deep down you loved it.

You were still getting used to being so cared for and protected. You'd been with Steve and Bucky for about six weeks now. The bond between the three of you was incredible, and you felt so safe and happy, trusting them instantly and completely. It was still taking some time for you to believe that you were worthy of this much love and attention, but you were slowly getting there. As if you really had any other choice when you were constantly being showered with it.

Once you were dry, Steve helped you brush your teeth and combed out your hair, before carrying you, still wrapped in the huge fluffy towel, to Bucky. "What's it gonna be tonight, princess?" Papa asked. "Do you want to sleep in the big bed with us, or in your bed with your stuffies?"

Without really thinking about it, you answered quickly. "Stuffies please!" Daddy and Papa had just let you build two brand new teddies at Build-A-Bear today, and you were eager for them to get to know the rest of their new stuffy gang. The idea of cuddling two new stuffies plus Jellybean tonight was just too exciting to pass up.

"You got it, love," Papa said with a smile. He carried you out to Bucky, gently transferring you into his waiting arms. "She's sleeping with her new pals tonight," he explained. Bucky grinned, looking down on your excited face.

"What did you name your new teddies again, Trouble?" he asked, remembering full well what you had named them.

"Named 'em Cap and BuckBear!" you answered cheerfully.

"That's right you did," he said smugly to himself, as he carried into your room. He made quick work of putting your sleepytime lotion on, and dressing you in the pink and blue pjs you'd picked out earlier, all while you told him all about your new teddy bears. He nodded and followed along, subtly laying you down in bed before you really realized it. Once you caught on, however, you started squirming and trying to sit back up, but all it took was him tucking your new furry friends into your arms one at a time for you to lay back down with a contented sigh.

He and Steve each took their turn reading you a book that you picked out. As your eyelids were getting unbearably heavy, Bucky reached over and switched on the soft blue unicorn nightlight, before turning on the baby monitor. They finished the last story, tucked you in, gave you gentle kisses on the forehead, and tiptoed out the door.

You smiled, nuzzling into your new teddies' soft fur. Then, of course, you had to reach for Jellybean, not wanting her to feel left out. Then you needed to give some time to each new teddy so they knew they were loved too...and before you knew it, you were wide awake again, trying to make sure all the stuffies got equal love before you all went to sleep.

Once you were satisfied, you snuggled in and closed your eyes. But...something was wrong. Something didn't sound right. You wiggled and fidgeted, not knowing what it was, but it was making you more and more anxious. Suddenly you realized that you hadn't slept alone for nearly three weeks. You were so used to hearing the gentle breathing of Papa and Daddy snuggled next to you, that the silence of your room was too loud. And then it was scary.

You opened your eyes, focusing on your unicorn nightlight. It was so lovely and pretty, but it just wasn't doing the job- it couldn't soothe you enough, or chase away enough of the creeping fear climbing up your spine. You desperately wanted to get out of bed and go find Papa and Daddy. But you shook your head and buried your face into Jellybean. Good girls stayed in bed. Good girls did what they were told. Otherwise, that meant they were bad and who wanted a bad little girl?

*************************************

Steve and Bucky were getting ready for bed in their room. "I almost don't know what to do with myself," Steve joked. "I'm so used to Katie being in here and going to bed with her that I've forgotten how to adult."

Bucky chortled quietly. "You want me to read you a story?" he teased, laughing when Steve tossed his wadded up teeshirt at his head. "Punk."

"Jerk."

"You wanna watch a movie?"

"I feel like I should say yes, but...."

"You only wanna watch a Disney movie, don't you?"

"...yes."

"...me too."

"I've gotten so addicted to them with her!"

"Right?! How the hell did they get that good over all these years?"

"Makes you glad were were both on ice for some of those in between ones, eh?"

"Tell me about it. Let's find one of the ones that might be too scary for her. We'll screen it and see if she can handle it."

"I love that idea."

"Well, I am the smart one."

"I still outrank you."

"Touche, punk. Gimme the remote."

They both climbed into bed, scrolling through the options. Before Bucky hit play though, he hesitated. "What is it?" Steve asked.

"Should we...should we go check on her? Just to make sure she's...you know...okay?" Bucky asked, trying to play it cool and failing miserably.

Steve smiled gently. "I'm missing her too," he said reassuringly. The bed felt somehow empty without your small frame wiggling around in it. "But we need to let her have her independence when she wants it. That's part of keeping her healthy and safe."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bucky said, pouting. "But I don't have to like it."

Before Steve could agree, they heard something. Something come through the baby monitor. Something that made them both absolutely freeze.

You gave the tiniest sniff. Like...maybe like you were crying.

Steve and Bucky tore across the apartment so fast, it was a wonder there weren't skid marks on the carpet. They screeched to a halt by your door, not wanting to scare you, or even wake you up if you were, in fact, asleep. Steve cracked the door open the tiniest bit, just enough to get a look at you in your bed. You were definitely crying silently. Bucky let out a soft exhale of air, like he'd been punched in the stomach at the sight of your tears. You heard it and turned to them.

"Daddy? Papa?" you asked in the smallest, most heartbreaking voice they'd ever heard.

Instantly, you found yourself in Bucky's arms, and then both of you were in Steve's. You tried to subtly wipe your eyes, but of course they knew you'd been crying.

"What's wrong, baby girl?" Steve asked, his heart threatening to squeeze out his chest as he held both you and Bucky. "Did you get scared? Are you okay?"

"It's okay, you're safe, nothing can hurt you," Bucky added in a soothing tone. "We're here, my love. We're right here."

"I...sowwy."

"What?" Steve replied, completely surprised. "What are you sorry for honey? You didn't do anything wrong."

"S'posed to be 'sleep," you mumbled, the tears threatening again.

"Aw, that's okay Trouble," Bucky said with a soft smile. "Sometimes it takes me a long time to fall asleep too."

"Not....dat..." you whispered, before turning your ashamed face into Bucky's chest. They exchanged a quick look.

"What is it then, honey? You can tell us, it's okay," Steve said soothingly, rubbing circles on your back. "Daddy and I got you, okay? Can we please help you?"

You gulped, and looked up at them. They both seemed sincere, and you had no reason not to trust them...."I...I got scawed," you lisped out, your Rs turning into Ws the way they did when you were upset. "It's okay, Princess, Daddy and I will protect you from anything, okay? You know that, right?"

"Yeah...."

"Can you tell us what scared you?"

"No," you said, turning back into Bucky's chest.

"Why not baby?"

"Cause....'cause I don't wanna be bad...."

"You're not bad, Trouble. You're our good little girl. Please tell us what scared you. We won't be mad, we promise."

"Pwomise?"

"We promise," they said in unison. That was what finally broke you enough to tell them, the tears starting up again.

"I...I missed you and I wann'd to come back to the big bed but good giwls don't get outta bed and dey gotta be good and stay...."

You watched their faces closely as you confessed, just waiting for them to scold you. Instead, the softest smiles crossed their faces when they heard that you were missing them.

"Oh angel," Steve breathed, leaning in to rub his nose against yours. "How on earth could we be mad at you for missing us?"

"You...you not mad?"

"Not even a little bit, baby." "Cause guess what Trouble?" Bucky added, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"What?" you asked innocently, your wide, pleading eyes doing him in all over again.

"We were missing you too."

"You was?"

"Uh-huh. Big time."

"It's true, Baby. Daddy and I were talking about it before we heard you in the baby monitor."

"Was twying to be quiet and be good."

"And that was very sweet of you, lovebug, but listen to me, okay?" Papa said, scooting in even closer and putting a finger under your chin so you'd look him in the eye. "If you ever, and I mean ever, need me or Daddy, you can always, always, ALWAYS come to us. No matter what. Okay?"

You blinked up at him, astonished that you hadn't been the perfect little girl you were supposed to be....yet he still wanted you to come to him anyways? You knew you could trust your Papa....and he wouldn't lie to you....

"That's right, Baby Girl," Buck added, seeing your disbelief. "Doesn't matter if it's late at night, or early in the morning, or if you've just been put to bed- doesn't matter. Doesn't even matter if it's nowhere near bedtime. If you want us, you got us. Papa and I are here for you and want you to be the happiest baby in the world. So don't even think about it again- if you need me and Papa, you come get us. Understood?"

"I....I can come get you if I need you?"

"Of course you can, Trouble."

"Always," added Steve lovingly.

"Can I....can I...."

"Yes?"

"Can....I come....sweep with you tonight pwease?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Bucky teased, swinging you up in his arms suddenly and standing.

"Do you want to bring your new furry friends with you, baby?" Steve asked, already gathering them in anticipation of what he already knew you were going to say.

You couldn't even respond for a moment, you were so full of wonder and joy at their love and affirmation. At their care. They DID love you. They DID care for you. And you could make mistakes and they would still love you. No one had ever done that for you before. But maybe...just maybe...you had finally found it. The two bestest daddies in the entire world that genuinely loved and cared for you. Your heart was so full, it was amazing.

You nodded shyly at Steve, who grinned and carefully gathered Cap, BuckBear, and Jellybean. "I call cuddling with Baby and Cap," he said playfully as the three of you (well, the six of you counting the stuffies) made your way out of your bedroom.

"No fair!" Bucky said back in a theatrically wounded voice. "I wanna cuddle with Baby! And of course BuckBear. He is the handsomest, isn't he, Trouble?" When you gave your little giggle at their silliness, they both smiled those soft, special smiles at you again, making your heart warm and making you feel so loved all over again.

In no time at all, you were comfortably cuddled in the crook of Bucky's right arm while holding Steve's left forearm against your chest. After some more playful and gentle teasing, Cap was cuddled by Papa, BuckBear by Daddy, and Jellybean was squished up all cozy in between Papa's arm and you.

You sighed, feeling so loved and cared for. "Papa? Daddy?" you asked sleepily, as once more your eyelids became oh so heavy.

"What is it, baby?" Bucky asked in his deep, quiet tones.

"You are better dan a million nightlights," you said with a gentle smile.

They both leaned into you at that, giving you sweet goodnight kisses all over again. "You're the light of our lives, angel," Steve whispered. "We'll always be your nightlights."

[bitter-me]

Hello!!Haha, I'm very glad that you liked my idea with Argenti! I don't want to impose too much, but I have so many ideas! For example, I have this idea - A reader from the Genius Society who is very interested in Doctor Ratio.

Again, if you are not interested, you don’t have to do it!

-Anon 🌾

A Waste of Talent

Dr. Veritas Ratio | M. Reader as X [Reverse: 1999]

----------

Are you sure you're not a mind reader? I swear I was working on this while making that Argenti one. Where are the cameras?? Did we met before??

----------

The Genius Society is known for many things. Their intelligence, their ambitions, their determination.

Accomplishing things beyond mere humans.

And yet... There is always one odd duckling in every group..

.

.

What a waste of talent...

That is the first thing Dr. Ratio thought when he met [Name].

This man.. this researcher... this brilliant, and intelligent researcher...

Why is he even doing this?! He could be so much more and yet he continues to lay around, doing aimless research, and making useless inventions!

Why?! Why would he waste that genius brain of his?!

"Honestly," He stated, his voice shaking with fury, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

He took a deep breath to try and control himself, but the heat of his anger still burned hotly within him.

"You are squandering a once-in-a-generation opportunity to become an intellectual powerhouse," Dr. Ratio continued, his voice dripping with frustration. "What a shame."

The researcher in question merely smiles at the other's reaction as his eyes drift to the clipboard in his hand. To be honest.. he doesn't care. He doesn't care how he's "not using his full potential" in fact, he's quite happy with what he's doing now. Even if some people branded his inventions as "useless."

Plus...

Dr. Ratio's reactions are always a sight he loves to see~ the confusion mixed with frustration. What a sight to see on a man whose intelligence could rival a member of the Genius Society. [Name] had always found Dr. Ratio to be an intriguing man and even with those harsh words being directed towards him, [Name] still found him to be a fascinating individual.

Getting a reaction out of him had also become a "hobby" of his. Just those clever, witty comebacks and with how expressive he is? It's always a joy to mess with him~

Which lead to their current predicament...

Ever since [Name] became interested with Dr. Ratio, he had made the doctor his personal tester for his inventions and oh... how wonderful those days have been~ the way he gets so worked up with every invention, saying that the Genius is wasting their talent.

Making Dr. Ratio test his inventions had easily became the highlight of his day~

"Are you done talking now? Alright.. shall we proceed with the testing?"

"So... you're next research is about... fried chicken?" Dr. Ratio asked, reading the papers as his gaze darted to the invention once in a while. This can't be real... how come this genius ever think of such a thing? He could be working on some life changing invention or discovery! Why is he dedicating an invention regarding fried chicken?!

"The inspiration came from the explosion.. introducing: The Breadcrumb Spraying Dispenser." The researcher stated as he took the papers from Dr. Ratio and began flipping through them. "An invention which will bring the flavor of your food to a significant level."

"Care to test it for me?'

....That's his inspiration into making this..? This.. thing?

"An explosion inspired you to make this? What explosion?"

"The one back at Herta's Space Station."

.

.

.

.

The day that the Genius Society decided to have their little meet up. [Name] never would have thought that Dr. Ratio is also at the Space Station.

At first, [Name] didn't think much of it. That is... until the whole Annihilation Gang thing happened..

As a kind person he is, he decided to lend them his help not only that, as a fellow Genius Society member he can't let danger arise in Herta's Space Station

.

.

"Go, go! Retreat!"

"Damn... get that ship moving!"

How... interesting..

It's not everyday that the Space Station is being raided like this, especially not from the Annihilation Gang. He thought they were more of a "rush in and kill everyone" type of organization. Who would have thought they have more in mind than to kill him...

[Name] let out a yawn as he casually sat in one of the hidden rooms of the facility as if the whole place isn't being raided or trampled upon by unwanted guests.

"So... the target of the Annihilation Gang is the space ship? But they only sent a bunch of dummies who can hardly accomplish anything." He chuckles in amusement as he continues to eavesdrop on their conversation. It's common for Space Stations to have ships and pods, especially for one as big as Herta's.

"Take all the supplies, the flower and everything! Don't forget the coffee beans!"

"Huh?" [Name] blurred out without thinking.

Standing up from his sitting position, he burst open the door. "Stop right there. You brutal criminals." He said casually as he put a finger gun on the side of his head and did a "fire" motion.

Taken aback by the sudden involvement, the group stood there in shock. Just who is this guy?

"Why don't you listen to the smart guy here, give up your plan and leave. Okay?" He continues, taking a seat at one of the desks as he begins making a cup of coffee on the machine next to him like it's a regular Tuesday.

"What..?"

"This is a gliding ship powered by Arcanum. To start it up... the whole Space Station's electric will be cut off for 5 hours." He explains casually as he made a latte art on his coffee.

Getting fed up with him, one of them pointed their weapon on the side of the scientist's head. "I don't care what you have to do, get this thing moving!"

[Name] merely chuckles in response. "Alright.. at your service.."

"Let the butterfly flap its wings and bring us the hurricane we need.."

BOOM!!

"The ship exploded?! What have you done?!"

"It's just another way to activate it, now say.. thank you, butterfly.." He smiles as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Just because he makes "useless inventions" doesn't mean he doesn't have a trick up his sleeve. Sometimes... [Name] took great advantage of their ignorance..

And Dr. Ratio... is one he takes delight in~

[fuckyeahisawthat]

So one of the things that Good Omens, the book in particular, points out again and again, is that Heaven and Hell are functionally the same. “Anyway, why are we talking about this good and evil?” book Crowley says. “They’re just names for sides. We know that.”

The two sides may seem ideologically opposed, but they do suspiciously similar things, and neither of them care about humanity. They’re both willing to destroy all life on Earth to prove whose gang is best. (There’s a bit of a Cold War analogy here that’s very obvious in the book.) That all was made very clear in season one.

But what the Job minisode shows is that Heaven and Hell are really one system, playing a game of good cop/bad cop with humans, angels and demons alike.

We learn that God and Satan not only talk to each other, but are on familiar enough terms to make a bet. (Which involves making some humans suffer to prove a point, very on brand for Good Omens’ God.) These are not some mid-level metaphysical bureaucrats sharing information through back channels that don’t exist but totally do. This is collusion at the highest level! They write up a contract and everything! And then Heaven simply stands back and lets Hell do its dirty work.

(Flash forward 4500 years to Aziraphale telling Crowley he should be the one to kill the Antichrist so Heaven doesn’t have “blood on its hands.”)

Heaven and Hell also work as a unified system to keep their respective angels and demons in line. Heaven needs Hell in order to ensure compliance in its own ranks. The Fall must have had a huge demonstration effect: this is what will happen to anyone else who steps out of line. Heaven mostly uses fear to control its own population, with the threat of falling always there to ensure obedience. And Hell is full of angry demons, isn’t it? Anger is pretty much the only emotion it’s socially acceptable for a demon to have, and Heaven is very useful for keeping that anger focused on an external target.

The Job storyline is the first time in the series we’ve seen Heaven and Hell working together so directly, but I don’t think it’ll be the last. They’re in the same building, after all. One of them just has a better view.