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lotus-n-l0ve · 14 days ago

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CHAPTER 2

— Onychinus Leader!Sylus Qin X Mother!Female Reader

She Ran To Protect Their Child. He Built A Kingdom To Bring Them Home.・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : She was the daughter of his enemy. He was the king of a criminal empire. They fell in love, but when she found out she was pregnant, she vanished-fearing the life their child would inherit. Seven years later, Sylus finds her. And he's not here for revenge. He's here to take back what's his.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Dad! Sylus, mom!reader, mafia, rivalry, second chance, secret baby, exes, time skip, past lovers, alternate universe, break in, angst, fluff, romance, love, mature language, stalking, threats, run away! y/n, mentions of pregnancy, blood, gore, dark romance, lovers to strangers, enemies to lovers, their daughter Elea, kiss, 22.2k words

*⁠.⁠✧ LOTUS NOTE : We are getting more of the past in this chapter. My love life is so dry that I can't even write an imaginary date 😭. Literally worked my butt off for that damn date. Also please don't hate y/n, she has solid reasons for what she did I swear.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // LOVE & DEEPSPACE MASERLIST

➥ KISSED IN POISON : THE SERIES

➥ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4

➥ Heart Divider's By @/cafekitsune

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

[9 YEARS AGO, CHANSIA CITY]

Two nights in a row. For the first time in your life, you sneaked in the middle of the night two days in a row. And the reason made you want to bang your head on the wall till you forget this embarrassing memory. It was so pathetic of you to risk your life just because your hormones can't stay put.

Two nights in a row. For the first time in your life, you'd snuck out in the middle of the night not once but twice. And the reason made you want to bang your head against the marble walls of your father's mansion until the memory cracked and slipped away.

It was pathetic you, the perfect daughter, the next heir, the girl with a dagger hidden behind her smile - risking your life because your traitorous heart and your cursed hormones couldn't stay put. Poor Sara-having to risk her life yet again just because of you.

Sylus Qin. His name tasted like a secret you'd never meant to keep. A name as sharp and alluring as the man himself dangerous, dark, sweet in a way that left bruises on your soul.

The previous night, you'd spent hours hidden away in a corner of the library, your knee pressed against his thigh as the two of you argued voices hushed but sharp over the tragic legend of the blue-blooded dragon and the luminary sorcerer.

One, bound by an ancient curse to destroy the very soul they loved most; the other, who poured her wrath into a spell that doomed every dragon's veins to hunger for the taste of her kind. And yet as if fate were some cruel trickster a prophecy bloomed from all that ruin: only a child born of the dragon's tainted blue blood and the sorcerer's celestial power could stand against the darkness when it rose to swallow the world whole.

The novel had no author's name, only a title inked in gold and a cover that looked like sorrow carved in paint - devastating and beautiful enough to feel like a promise.

Per Aspera Ad Astra.

Sylus had scoffed at it called it foolish, all that sacrifice for a world so quick to forget. But your heart ached for those two souls bound in the cruelty of fate's twisted joke doomed to be each other's destruction, yet the only salvation the world had left.

You'd stormed out were. Again. telling yourself you'd never come back. Yet here you were again.

You pulled your coat tighter around you, head lowered as you slipped through the half-buried alley behind the florist’s shop. Each footstep crunched on frost-laced cobblestones, your breath ghosting into the winter-dark like a secret you couldn’t hold in.

Inside, the bell above the bookshop door gave that soft chime — the sound that now made your blood sing instead of settle. You stepped in, your eyes blinking against the golden warmth of lamplight and old wood. The hush of paper and ink settled over you like a blanket.

You scanned the rows of books, each shadowed aisle holding a promise, a memory. But he wasn’t there. No sign of that beautiful sin draped in black, lounging where he shouldn’t be.

You told yourself the disappointment curdling in your chest was just nerves — the dread of your father discovering the gaps in your curfew. You drifted deeper into the aisles, fingertips grazing cracked spines — Fyodor, Woolf, Wilde — but none of them could hook your interest tonight. None of them were him.

Minutes slipped by like melting snow. The disappointment grew harder to ignore, a bitter ache you pretended wasn’t hope at all. Finally, you exhaled a shaky breath, hugging your coat tighter around your ribs. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe you should run home before your absence turned from suspicious to dangerous—

A tap on your shoulder made you flinch so hard you nearly knocked over a stack of secondhand hardcovers. You turned, your heart stuttering — stupidly, embarrassingly hopeful — only to find the half-bored teenage shop boy standing there, hair sticking out from beneath a knit cap.

“Uh… sorry.” He mumbled, shifting his weight, “A guy at the counter told me to give you this.”

He shoved a bouquet into your hands — carnations, wrapped in parchment paper. Your breath caught. Your fingers trembled around the stems, the cold moisture seeping through your gloves.

You blinked at the boy, “Who…?”

He shrugged, already turning away, “Said you’d know.”

Your eyes dropped to the carnations — lush, crimson petals cradled by parchment and tied with a ribbon so dark it nearly looked black in the soft library light. They were fresh enough to bead dew on your fingertips — like they’d just been cut for you alone.

Your pulse kicked, betraying every shield you’d built around your foolish heart. You slipped the small card out, the thick paper heavy between your gloved fingers. His handwriting — elegant, lazy, sinfully familiar — stared back at you, every word a dagger turned lovingly in your ribs.

“I know it’s not very gentlemanly of me to send this through someone else, but… work. I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart.”

Your breath caught on that word — sweetheart. He said it like a vow. Like a hook sunk deep into your throat.

“If you miss me — call. Or don’t. I’ll find you either way.

S— +42….”

Your thumb brushed over the number. So simple. So damn easy to dial. It shouldn’t feel like a lifeline and a noose all at once — but it did. And then the final line — slanted just slightly, as if he’d leaned closer to whisper it against your neck:

“PS: You looked absolutely beautiful tonight… and the other night. Would have admired you more if I’d had time.”

You could almost hear it — that low hum in his chest when he said things that were almost compliments, almost confessions. Your cheeks flamed, your mouth bitter with how much you hated and craved that stupid velvet voice.

The flowers quivered in your grip, petals brushing your wrist like his lips might if he were here — if you let him. Was he here? Did he drop off the bouquet himself? Maybe you could still find him.

You slipped the card back between the stems like it might burn you — like you’d keep it safe anyway. You had no idea if you’d ever dial that number. But you’d never throw it away. And you hated yourself for that.

You all but bolted from the shop, the bell above the door jangling frantically behind you. You nearly collided with another girl coming in — her yelp barely registered. Your eyes scanned the street — snow falling like confetti under the streetlights — but there was no sign of him. No dark coat in the shadows. No familiar silhouette leaning against the wall like he owned the whole city.

Disappointment clawed at you, cold and sharp. The smart thing would’ve been to tuck your chin down, press the flowers close, and hurry home before your father’s dogs noticed you were gone.

But your feet betrayed you — because next thing you knew you were across the street, pushing your way into the old glass phone booth that stood crooked under a flickering lamp. The cold air disappeared behind the warped door. Your breath fogged the glass, your heartbeat drowned out the snow’s hush.

You dug the card out again, fingers trembling as you matched each digit to the faded numbers on the dial. It was so stupid. So dangerous. But you pressed your finger into the dial anyway — once, twice — until the final number clicked into place.

The dial tone purred in your ear — each ring a slow, deliberate drag of teeth against your resolve. You didn’t even know what you’d say. Maybe he won’t pick up, you lied to yourself. Maybe this means nothing.

And then — click.

No greeting. Just his voice, velvet wrapped in a grin you could practically hear.

“Couldn’t resist, sweetheart?”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your forehead bumping against the cold glass as a helpless laugh escaped your lips — halfway between a sigh and a curse.

“How did you know it’s me?” You asked, your voice softer than you meant it to be — like he’d pulled it right out of your ribs.

On the other end, you could hear his smirk, velvet and sin, slipping between the static lines.

“Darling, who else would it be? You think I hand out my number on pretty cards to every girl wandering in the library at midnight?”

A pulse of warmth slid down your spine, making you press your palm flat against the booth’s glass. He let the silence linger, like he was listening to you breathe — like the sound of you alone was worth more than anything he could be doing right now.

“Maybe?” You echoed, trying for playful but it came out a little breathless, a little too real.

A soft hum on the other end — you could almost see the way his lips would curve, the slow drag of his thumb across his lower lip as he looked out into the night.

“Mm.” He made a low, amused sound, “It’s quite a problem, you know. Can’t read. Can’t sleep. Can’t work. All because I’ve got a voice in my head whispering about Dostoevsky and how I’m ‘infuriatingly smug.’”

You bit back a laugh — the memory of your argument still sweet on your tongue. Your free hand toyed with the edge of the card, crumpling it just a bit.

“Maybe you should find someone less… distracting, then.”

A low, velvet chuckle slid through the line — dangerous and sweet all at once.

“Darling, if I wanted less, I’d have married the first woman my father found for me the second I turned legal. But I find myself…” He paused — and you could feel the heat of that grin, even though you couldn’t see it, “…addicted to the real thing.”

Your pulse fluttered in your throat — reckless, traitorous.

“Addicted, huh?” You teased, hoping your voice didn’t tremble the way your fingers did, “You don’t even know me.”

A beat of silence. Then his voice dropped — silk catching on the edge of a blade.

“Oh, sweetheart — that’s the tragedy, isn’t it? I know just enough to be ruined. And not nearly enough to stop.”

“What work do you even have at midnight anyway?”

For a moment, all you hear is his quiet breath — then that low, lazy hum that makes your stomach twist.

“Ah. Curious now, are we?” His tone was teasing, but there was a shadow beneath it — something unspoken that made the night feel sharper around you, “I promise you, sweetheart — it’s nothing you’d want to lose sleep over.”

You rolled your eyes — he could almost hear it, because he laughed, low and genuine.

“If you don’t want to tell me, just say that.” You muttered, but your voice softened on the edges, curiosity gnawing at you. Who the hell was this man?

“It’s better this way, trust me.” His voice dropped — that hush you’d felt pressed against your skin the first night in the shop, “You’re too sweet for the details. Let me stay interesting a little longer, hm?”

You bit your lip, fighting a smile you didn’t want him to hear, “You’re impossible.”

Your breath caught — shamefully soft in your ear. You forced out a laugh that sounded a little too much like surrender.

“So what now?” You asked, the words tumbling out before you could think, “You going to stand me up? Alone? At this time? Even though I risked my life to get here?”

Your words were true. You did put your life on line by sneaking out but Sylus didn't need to know that. To him, these probably felt like words of tease.

Another low chuckle — dark, pleased.

“Never. You have my word. I truly have business to handle tonight — tedious, brutal, and entirely less interesting than you.” You could hear the faint sound of his coat shifting, like he was leaning back, letting the city sprawl at his feet, “But I can fix that. Unless you’d rather run back home and pretend you’re not desperate to see me again?”

Your mouth parted — an indignant little sound caught there. He was right, the bastard.

“I’m not desperate.”

“No?” He purred, “Then what are you doing out in this freezing cold, sweetheart? Freezing your pretty-self off just to see me again? Calling me barely a minute after I dropped off the bouquet just to hear my voice? Tell me.”

Your pulse was a drumbeat now — wild, hungry. You glanced out at the snow and wished you could lie.

“I wanted…” You breathed, the words catching in your throat, “I wanted to know if you meant it.”

“Which part?” He asked, softer now, a hush that slid beneath your skin, “The part about you looking beautiful? The part about missing me? Or the part where I said I’d find you either way?”

You bit your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you whispered, “All of it.”

A sigh, quiet but indulgent, filled your ear. You could imagine the way he’d look right now — head tipped back, eyes half-lidded, mouth curved in that dangerous promise of his.

“Every word, sweetheart.” His voice dipped, a low rumble of sin wrapped in silk.

A hush settled between you, the snow muffling the city outside the booth. You could almost feel him leaning closer through the line — that warmth and danger braided together.

“So…” He murmured, voice curling like smoke around your ear, “How about a proper date, sweetheart?”

You froze, your breath catching. Date. The word shouldn’t have made your heart thud like that.

“A date?” You echoed, hating how shy it sounded.

“Mhm,” He hummed, amused, “A real one. Just you and me. No dusty books, no midnight ghosts. Somewhere I can look at you properly — watch you try not to fall for me too fast.”

Your laugh came out flustered, half a huff, half a sigh, “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“No.” He corrected smoothly, “I’m sure of us.”

Your fingers tightened around the receiver, the cold glass at your back doing nothing to settle the warmth pooling in your chest.

“When?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

There was the faintest sound of leather shifting — maybe gloves brushing over his coat. When he spoke again, you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Two days from now.” He said, each word perfectly deliberate, “This Thursday, dinner. If that’s fine with you.”

Your lips parted, a breath of disbelief slipping out. Thursday. Two days. That soon. And yet — not soon enough.

“Yeah…” You managed, and you hated how breathless you sounded, “That’s fine.”

“Good girl.” It was a purr, a sinful little stroke down your spine, “Eight o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

Your eyes snapped open, heart skidding in your chest.

“Pick me up?” You echoed, your tone climbing into something like scandalized laughter, “From my house?”

He hummed — a dark, amused sound, “Of course. I’m a gentleman, sweetheart.”

You let out a disbelieving scoff, your fingers pressing harder into the cold glass at your back, “You’re moving too fast, Sylus.”

“Mmm. I don’t think I'm moving fast enough.”

“I barely know you,” You shot back, your voice light but your pulse anything but, “What kind of girl do you take me for? Giving my address to a man I’ve known for — what — two nights?”

“Two very good nights.” His voice slid around your ribcage like silk, “Besides, you already know you’re safe with me.”

“Safe?” You teased, your mouth twisting into a grin even he couldn’t see, “For all I know you could be the most dangerous person I know.”

A low chuckle — a promise wrapped in danger, “Then trust me to be dangerous only for you, sweetheart.”

Your head hit the glass with a soft thunk. You hated how you were smiling, how your breath fogged up the phone booth window like a teenager.

“Nice try, Mr. Qin. No address. Not yet.”

“Then how should I find you, hmm?” He asked, that velvet threat weaving into his words, “Should I follow your footprints in the snow? Climb your balcony like a thief?”

“Try it and I’ll call the police.” You teased.

“You won’t.” He murmured, so certain, so terribly right, “Thursday, then?”

“Thursday. Pick me up from the library.” You breathed.

“Good. Sweet dreams, darling.”

“Goodnight, Sylus.”

[PRESENT TIME, LINKON CITY]

The memory faded like mist when you blinked, replaced by the muted clatter of boxes being shuffled through your hallway. The faint scent of carnations lingered under the stronger smell of spices and herbs. You didn’t even remember standing this still for this long — you’d been leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching Sylus take over your home like he’d never left.

Elea was over the moon — she’d skipped school altogether, clinging to Sylus like a baby koala to its branch. In all her tiny six years of life, you’d never seen her so adamant about anything. No coaxing or bribes could pry her from her father’s side — and honestly, you hadn’t had the heart to try.

The whole day drifted by in a soft blur of giggles and crayon stains and Elea’s high, excited voice filling corners of the house that had always felt too quiet before. She’d dragged Sylus from room to room — showing him her little hoard of drawings taped crooked on the walls, the flower she’d pressed between the pages of her homework notebook, the butterfly facts she’d written in that sprawling, wobbly handwriting of hers.

And Sylus — gods, you’d thought you’d seen him cold, you’d seen him cruel, you'd seen him soft like a rose petal, you’d seen him bored and amused and lethal — but never this. Never the way he went soft for her, crouching down so she could fix his hair with plastic clips shaped like stars and daisies, letting her drag him by the sleeve from one crayon masterpiece to the next, his low hums of praise so gentle they made your chest ache.

The day blurred into dusk far too quickly. And now — night. The windows had gone black, the soft hum of the city seeping through the walls. Sylus was in your kitchen like he’d always belonged there, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he moved with that same lethal grace, stirring the pot on the stove like it was a weapon he knew better than anyone else.

He’d insisted on cooking — refused to let you lift a finger — so you’d perched keeping an eye on Elea while did her math homework. But every time you snuck a glance at her, you caught her eyes darting to the kitchen. Every two seconds, she’d peek over her shoulder, pencil tapping against her bunny’s floppy ear.

She'd scribble down a messy number and whisper for the ninth time in the span of ten minutes, "Is daddy done yet?"

You bit back a laugh, smoothing your hand over her curls, “Almost, baby. Why don't you complete your homework fast? By then daddy will be done with dinner."

A new fire of determination flashed in Elea’s eyes — her little tongue poked out as she scribbled numbers so hard her pencil nearly snapped. You hid a smile behind your hand before slipping away, your steps muffled by the hum of the city breathing through the windows.

The kitchen was warm — too warm. Or maybe that was just him. Sylus stood there, sleeves still rolled, steam curling up around the strong lines of his shoulders. He stirred the pot with a practiced flick of his wrist, like the wooden spoon was an extension of his hand — like even the simplest things bowed to his command.

You found yourself leaning back against the counter across from him, arms folded tight across your chest, heart doing that stupid, fluttering dance it had no business doing as you watched his back move in the kitchen like he knew every nook and corner of it.

Sylus didn’t look up right away — but you could see the corner of his mouth tip up when he felt you there, the way the tension shifted in his shoulders, like your presence was something he was always ready to lean into.

“How’s our little mathematician?” He murmured, voice low as he tasted the broth, the metal spoon glinting in the soft kitchen light.

“She's asking if the dinner is ready every two minutes.” You quirked an eyebrow, “So hurry up or she’ll riot.”

A quiet chuckle slipped from him — low, warm, dangerously fond. He set the spoon down, the scent of garlic and herbs wrapping around you both like a blanket.

“Can’t have that.” He wiped his thumb across the corner of his mouth, eyes flicking to yours, “I want to move in as soon as possible. Preferably by tomorrow."

"What?" Your voice snapped, "Don't you think you are moving too fast? I'm not even sure if I can trust you yet."

"So dramatic." Sylus whispered, throwing you an amused glance, "Or would you rather move in with me along with Elea?"

Your eyes narrowed, "Sylus—"

"What?" He tilted his head, eyes bright, "You said you don't trust me yet but you're standing right here, sweetheart. Watching me cook. Staying close enough to breathe me in. With our daughter in the next room. I'd say we're making progress."

You scowled at him, pulse misbehaving, "I'm keeping an eye on you just in case you decide to set this place on fire in the name of revenge."

“Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.” The words rolled off his tongue like a purr, too warm, too easy — the kind of tone that made your heart misbehave more than you’d ever admit.

He turned back to the stove, giving the broth one last swirl before dipping the spoon in again. This time, instead of tasting it himself, he lifted it — careful, steady — and brought it to hover just inches from your lips.

“Here.” He murmured, eyes cutting to yours beneath those lashes, “Tell me if it’s good.”

Your mouth opened, words caught somewhere behind your teeth. He held the spoon there — patient, infuriatingly calm — like he had all the time in the world to watch you squirm.

“Why don't you test it?” You eyed the spoon suspiciously.

“Don’t be shy.” He coaxed, the corner of his mouth curving just a little more, “I promise I didn’t poison it. Yet.”

You shot him a withering glare but leaned forward anyway, lips brushing the warm metal. For Elea — you told yourself. The taste bloomed over your tongue — rich, savory, perfect. Too perfect.

“Hmm?” He tipped his head, studying you like he could see straight through your skull, “Good?”

You swallowed — the heat of it, the heat of him, “It’s… fine.”

“Fine?” His brows shot up, faux offended, “I need delicious. My girls deserve only the best."

Your stomach did that traitorous twist. My girls. The words still clung to your ribs like honey and barbed wire all at once.

You forced out a scoff, arms crossing tighter against your chest like that would protect you from the way his voice made your pulse stumble.

“Your girls?” You shot back, trying for bite, “There’s only one girl of yours here, Sylus. And she’s in the living room — doing math, not—”

His eyes flicked to yours — steady, unbothered — and the rest of your sentence shriveled on your tongue.

He let out a soft, humorless laugh as he set the spoon aside. Then he leaned in — slow, caging you in with one hand braced on the counter beside your hip. Not touching, but the heat of him made your skin prickle. His voice dropped, rough silk.

“Just because you woke up one day and decided that I wouldn’t absolutely burn the world down for you — and ran away without a word — doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Your throat closed up, the air between you thick with memories you’d buried so deep they ached to breathe.

“You can hate me all you want.” Sylus went on, eyes locked to yours like a promise carved into stone, “but I'm gonna pretend that I want you with every fiber in my body. Even if it makes you uncomfortable. I’ll take back the one who was mine. You.”

He paused then — close enough you could feel the warmth of his breath ghost over your cheek. His eyes dipped to your lips, then back up.

“And for that, sweetheart…” He hummed, that smile — more dangerous than any blade, “I need you to tell me what on earth actually happened.”

Your next breath came out shaky. You wanted to spit out a retort — to shove him back, to spit every damn detail of that night — no word came out. You couldn't utter a word because you knew the second you started talking, you would shatter like a fallen glass vase.

Outside, you could hear Elea’s pencil tapping on the table, oblivious to the storm brewing in her parents’ silence. Sylus pulled back just enough to smirk, voice softer now — so soft it scraped the raw edges inside you.

“I’ll wait.” He murmured, “However long it takes.”

Then he turned back to the stove, the faint clink of the spoon against the pot the only sound that dared to fill the space he left behind. You stayed pressed to the counter, arms crossed so tight they almost bruised your ribs, the ghost of his breath still warm on your cheek.

He didn’t look at you again — didn’t need to. His voice came out low, almost casual, but the edge in it cut through the steam curling around him.

“Set the table, sweetheart.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Not with your pulse still stumbling over the weight of everything unsaid — the truth you’d buried under a thousand careful lies. The smell of garlic and herbs suddenly felt suffocating, the walls too close.

You set the table with stiff, deliberate movements. Fork. Knife. Spoon. Small glass for Elea — she’d spill it otherwise. Napkins folded, your hands trembling just enough that you hoped he didn’t see.

Behind you, Sylus hummed something low under his breath, tasting the soup again like nothing had happened — like he hadn’t just reminded you that no matter how many locks you’d thrown over your heart, he still knew exactly where the key was buried.

When you finally turned to call for Elea, you felt his eyes on your back — warm, sure, inevitable.

Dinner was… fine. More than fine, actually — but only because Elea, in all her tiny, relentless sunshine, refused to let the dark edges creep back in. She babbled about her day at school, her favorite flowers, the new bunny sticker she’d stuck on her notebook — you’d swear Sylus would have nodded along even if she’d recited the entire encyclopedia backward.

Every time you looked up, you caught Sylus watching her with this look you couldn’t decipher — soft and unguarded, the way you’d seen him only once before. He didn’t interrupt her once, just kept spooning more food onto her plate, his eyes bright with something dangerously close to awe.

You pretended not to notice how he’d cut your portion just right, how he’d poured your drink without asking, how his knee brushed yours under the table — steady, warm, present. Like he was staking a claim he didn’t have to say out loud.

Elea beamed the whole way through, blissfully oblivious to the thousand unspoken things passing between her parents.

But the problem — the real problem — started when you’d finished clearing the plates, when Sylus stood to slip back into his coat. Elea was on him in a heartbeat, her arms like tiny iron bars clinging around his waist.

“No, daddy — no! Stay! Stay here!” She hiccuped, face buried against his pants. Her tiny shoulders shook with each sob, “Don’t go away again, please… mommy, tell him to stay.”

“Hey…” Sylus crouched low, one big hand cradling her head so gently, “I promised you, didn’t I? Daddy’s not going anywhere. I’ll be right back tomorrow. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Elea just wailed harder, bunny clutched so tight you worried the ears might come off. Her eyes — those same eyes she got from you — flicked up, glassy and desperate.

“Mommy — mommy, please! Can he stay? I’ll be good, I promise! Please don’t make him leave.”

Your chest squeezed so painfully you almost said yes, right then, just to make the tears stop. But your mouth wouldn’t move — and neither would the old fears lodged in your ribs like splinters.

Sylus’s eyes met yours over her shoulder — something soft and pleading buried in the ice-blue. He didn’t push, didn’t demand, didn’t force you like you half-expected him to. He just scooped Elea up, rocking her gently, murmuring in that low, steady voice you were coming to know all too well.

“Little dove.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple, “I’ll be right here. Tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that. Okay? You trust daddy, don’t you?”

She sniffled, snuggling closer, her tiny fingers fisting the lapel of his coat, “Promise?”

“Promise.” He said — and you could feel the vow curl around the edges of your own bruised heart, warming places you wished would stay cold.

When he finally set her down — her eyelids heavy with exhausted tears — she clung to your side instead, still hiccuping, still watching him like she was afraid he’d vanish if she blinked.

And Sylus — Sylus just looked at you. Quiet. Certain. Like he knew no matter how many times you bolted, he’d find a way to stay.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow.” He said, his voice—all gentle thunder as he opened the door, “Keep our girl safe for me, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t speak — so you just nodded, holding Elea tighter. And the echo of the door closing behind him felt like something dangerous and tender all at once.

That night, the house felt too quiet — like it was holding its breath. You’d tucked Elea into the middle of your bed, her bunny nestled tight under her chin, the tip of one ear already soggy from all the tears she’d shed clinging to Sylus’s coat.

You smoothed a hand over her hair, brushing away the stray curls that always stuck to her damp cheeks. Her eyes, still glassy with sleep, blinked up at you — wide, trusting, far too big for someone so small.

“Mommy?” She whispered, her voice so soft it barely made it past the covers, “Daddy… he’ll be back, right?”

You froze, your hand stilled mid-stroke. For a heartbeat, you wanted to lie — to tell her the perfect fairytale version, no cracks, no shadows. But the promise you’d seen in Sylus’s eyes tonight burned at the back of your mind, steady as an ember.

You swallowed the ache in your throat and forced your voice to be warm — solid — the mother she deserved.

“He’ll be back, baby.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple, “Daddy promised, didn’t he?”

Elea nodded, but her little fingers crept up to clutch at yours, her bunny squished between you both, “Daddy doesn’t break promises?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding — your eyes drifting to the darkened hallway where you could still feel his presence, lingering like the faint scent of carnations.

“No.” You said, quiet but certain — more certain than you’d let yourself feel in years, “Daddy never breaks promises.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at that, her grip on your hand loosening as sleep pulled her under. You stayed like that a moment longer — tracing her knuckles with your thumb, staring at the tiny heartbeat you and Sylus made together.

[9 YEARS AGO, CHANSIA CITY]

You were annoyed, to say the least. Thursday had come in a blink — so fast it made your head spin. Two days, that’s all you’d had to tear through half the city, combing through silk and satin and soft chiffons until your fingers smelled like perfume and new fabric. The perfect dress. The perfect shoes. The perfect little bag that could hold your dreams — and your secrets — all at once.

Everything needed to be perfect. This was your first date — the first anything in your life that you’d chosen for yourself, on your own stubborn, foolish will. But in your frenzied quest for perfect lipstick shades and borrowed courage, you’d forgotten one small, crucial thing: How on earth were you going to sneak out?

Midnight was easy. Midnight gave you shadows — sleepy maids, half-drunk guards, a whole house lulled under the weight of its own secrets. But tonight? Sylus was coming for you at 8 p.m. Sharp. Bright. The hour when the house hummed loudest — when the table downstairs would be set with heavy porcelain and your father and brother would talk “business” in low, rough voices, pretending you weren’t there, yet demanding your presence all the same.

Tradition, they’d said once, when you were too young to understand why your stomach always turned to knots when you sat at that long, cold table. Family should eat together. Even if you were invisible. Even if you’d rather be anywhere else.

You sat on the edge of your bed now, your new dress laid across your bed like a beautiful mess. The clock on your wall ticked mercilessly toward 6:00. An hour to come up with a plan. An hour to find the courage to shatter the only thing that held you here — the illusion that you were safe in this pretty, suffocating cage.

Then — like the answer to a prayer you hadn’t dared to whisper out loud — came your saviour: Sara.

The only soul in that entire suffocating house who looked at you and saw you — not the pretty daughter, not the pawn to be traded at the right price, but you. She’d slipped in with arms folded and eyes dancing like she’d been waiting all day to pull you out of your misery.

“Pneumonia.” She’d said, biting back a laugh when you gaped at her, “Who’d want a sick little mess coughing all over their roast, hmm?”

And it had worked — like magic. When the doctor came, Sara was quick with the hot pack tucked under your sheets, your skin flushed and forehead beading sweat on command. The thermometer ticked up, the doctor frowned, your father’s mouth curled with disgust, and the final verdict was handed down like a blessing from the devil himself: Stay in your room. Rest. Do not come near the dining hall.

When they’d left, Sara locked the door behind them, pressing her back to it like she half-expected them to barge in again. But no footsteps came. No voices barked your name. Just silence. Freedom masquerading as fever.

She turned to you then, her grin wicked and soft all at once.

“Up.” She ordered, hauling you off the bed before you could blink.

Your new dress waited, a small, defiant rebellion draped across the sheets like spilled wine. Sara’s fingers were quick and sure — undoing the ties, tugging the soft ivory blouse over your shoulders. The fabric was lighter than air, its wide collar brushing your collarbones, tiny red flowers blooming against your skin like stolen kisses. The hem of the blouse was tucked into the deep wine-red skirt cinched at your waist, falling in neat pleats a few inches under your knees, brushing your bare feet as you swayed on the balls of your heels.

“Shoes—” Sara breathed, shoving the cream Mary Janes into your hands. “Bag?”

You held up the tiny burgundy bag like it was your ticket to another life — which, in a way, it was. Inside: a handful of crumpled bills, your mother's pocket watch, a compact mirror and a red lipstick. And your watch — the slim red leather strap biting into your wrist, ticking the seconds down until you’d be in his world, not theirs.

Sara fussed with your hair next, fingers gentle as she gathered it back, pinning the loose waves with a little gold barrette shaped like a crescent moon. It glimmered in the low lamplight — a secret piece of the night sky you’d carry with you.

“Perfect.” She whispered, standing back to admire you like you were some masterpiece she’d helped smuggle out of a locked gallery, “Now… don’t fall in love too fast, all right?”

You laughed — breathless, a little unsteady — and hugged her so tight she squeaked. And when you pulled back, you saw it in her eyes: the pride, the fear, the hope she dared to have for you.

“Go.” Sara breathed, already pushing you toward the balcony doors, that spark in her grin brighter than any chandelier, “Before they realize their sick little bird has learned how to fly.”

You slipped out like a ghost — feet barely touching the cold marble floors, heart hammering against your ribs loud enough you were sure it would give you away. The night air kissed your flushed skin the moment you ducked through the side door Sara had left cracked open for you, the scent of the garden’s damp earth and late-blooming roses mixing with your nerves.

The streets were quieter than usual, shadows swallowing your hurried steps as you pressed the little bag to your side like it could anchor you to this reckless freedom. You wished — not for the first time — that you could bring your phone. Having it would’ve been so convenient, so normal. But your father’s rules wrapped around you like barbed wire even now — the device tracked 24/7 by men who’d sooner lock you away than let you breathe the same air as your own choices.

So you walked. One block. Two. Past shuttered shops and flickering street lamps, the weight of your watch ticking heavy on your wrist. When the library’s familiar arched windows finally rose into view — pale light spilling through stacks of books like a sanctuary — you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

This place was yours. Untouchable. Your father’s reach ended right outside its old stone facade — his men had no authority here.

You slipped through the doors, the soft scent of old pages and ink wrapping around you like an old friend. You found your favorite corner — the one hidden behind the tallest shelves — and curled into the velvet chair, knees pulled up, the gold crescent moon barrette catching the warm lamplight.

You must have checked the clock on the far wall a hundred times, your foot tapping against the carpet every second that passed. 8:00 p.m. The time he’d promised.

And right on the dot, the world outside shifted — headlights slicing through the dark. You peeked through the dusty window just in time to see it: a sleek black car gliding up to the curb, so quiet it could’ve been a phantom.

Your heart somersaulted into your throat. Sylus Qin — your Sylus, even if you’d never dared to say it out loud — had come for you. Just like he’d promised.

Your fingers curled tighter around the strap of your bag. No shadows tonight. No walls. Just you. Just him. Just the wild, terrifying taste of a freedom that belonged only to you.

You almost ran out — embarrassingly fast, your shoes scuffing the stone steps of the library as the heavy door swung shut behind you. The cool night nipped at your bare collarbones.

And there he was — stepping out from behind the wheel like he owned the pavement beneath his feet. Sylus Qin. All shadow-slicked coat and dark hair tousled just enough to look like he’d run his fingers through it a few dozen times. The streetlight caught on the sharp line of his jaw, the faintest curl of a smirk ghosting over his mouth when his eyes found you.

“Easy there, sweetheart.” He drawled, voice so low that it glided down your spine, “Wouldn’t want you bruising those pretty knees before I even get you in the car.”

You huffed — but the sound caught somewhere in your throat the second you really saw him. Sylus Qin, right on time, not a hair out of place except for that deliberate tousle you knew he’d done just to make it look effortless. The streetlight turned the edges of his dark coat to silver, catching on the faint twist of a grin tugging at his mouth.

“I just… didn’t want to be late.” You muttered, clutching your bag like it might anchor you to the sidewalk.

He laughed — soft, low, a sound that seemed to slide under your skin. He stepped in close, boots brushing yours on the cracked pavement.

“Late?” He repeated, voice warm against your ear as he leaned in just enough to breathe you in, “Sweetheart, we have the whole night to ourselves."

Your heart did that traitorous flutter, and you hated that he could probably feel it — could sense every little thing you gave away just by standing there. His gaze dipped to your lips, lingering like he was tasting something only he could sense.

“Let me see you,” He murmured. His gloved fingers brushed the edge of your jaw, trailing up to the moon-shaped clip nestled in your hair, “Mm. Perfect. Did you wear this for me?”

“Nope.” You lied, but your voice cracked down the middle.

Sylus chuckled, thumb dragging softly along the edge of your earring.

“Liar. I like it.” His eyes flicked to yours, dark and sure and bright all at once, “You look…” He tilted his head, the streetlight catching in those sharp eyes, “Beautiful”

Your lips twitched, the compliment heating your cheeks in a way you hated him for. So you fired back, chin lifting just enough to hide the flutter in your chest.

“You don’t look half bad yourself, Mr. Qin.” You shot back, all false bravado, letting your gaze drop pointedly over his broad shoulders, the open collar of his shirt, “Though you could’ve at least tried. I did put in a little effort, you know.”

“Mm. So you did.” His voice dipped lower, silk over steel, “A pretty skirt, that sweet perfume — your favourite lip colour. I notice everything, sweetheart.”

His thumb brushed your bottom lip — so soft you almost leaned in.

“But next time you say you’re putting in effort, remember…” His mouth dipped just close enough that his words brushed the edge of your skin, “It’s never wasted on me.”

Your cheeks burned under the weight of his stare — that smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing to you. You ducked your gaze, fingers gripping the strap of your bag a little too tight.

“We should get going now.” You mumbled, clearing your throat, hoping he wouldn’t hear how breathless you sounded.

“Alright.” He murmured, straightening up, “Your wish is my command.”

He stepped back, the loss of his heat a betrayal your skin immediately mourned. With one hand, he popped open the passenger door, the other sweeping low to guide you inside — his palm grazing the small of your back, fingers lingering just a heartbeat too long.

“After you.” Sylus drawled, eyes dancing, “Before I lose control and skip all the formalities.”

The click of your seatbelt was almost too loud in the hush of the car as he rounded the hood, slipped into the driver’s seat, and shot you that same wicked, impossible smile.

“Ready?”

The engine hummed beneath you, low and smooth as Sylus pulled away from the curb. The city lights flickered past the window in a blur — gold and neon and sharp edges that made your heart pound in your chest for reasons you couldn’t quite name.

You kept stealing glances at him — the way one hand rested lazy on the wheel, the other drumming a slow rhythm on the console, the streetlights slipping like liquid gold across the sharp cut of his jaw. He looked unbothered, like this was just any other night. Like you weren’t sitting here trying not to choke on your own heartbeat.

You cleared your throat. Casual. “So… where are we going?”

Sylus didn’t look at you, but you saw the smirk tug at his mouth, the corner of his lips catching the city’s glow.

“Impatient?” He murmured.

You scowled, ignoring the way his voice wrapped around your spine, “I thought we were going to a restaurant or something but you are driving towards the outskirts."

He hummed, that deep, thoughtful sound that always meant he was enjoying this more than he should.

“Sweetheart,” He called out, tapping the wheel once with his ringed fingers, “Has anyone ever told you that you don’t dream big enough?”

Your frown deepened when he turned off the main road — the neon signs fell away, replaced by quieter streets. Then the hush of water came up all around you, glittering in the moonlight. You sat up straighter, peering out the window. Docks. Wide, private. Yachts — not just boats, but floating palaces lined up like a kingdom of secrets.

“Wait…” You breathed, “Why are we at the port? Are you going to murder me and then dump my body in the sea?”

Sylus’s laugh was sudden, his fingers drumming once on the steering wheel before he cut the engine. The quiet that fell around you both was filled only by the soft slap of water against the docks.

“Murder you?” He echoed, turning to you with that maddening tilt of his head — all shadow and citylight catching in his eyes, “You wound me.”

You tried to glare at him — you really did — but the heat in his gaze made your pulse stutter in your throat. He leaned closer, one arm slung over the back of your seat like he owned every breath you took.

“If I wanted you gone, sweetheart…” His thumb brushed your chin, forcing your eyes to stay locked on his, “…you’d never see me coming. You’d just feel it — right here.”

He tapped your pulse point, the pad of his finger warm against your skin, lingering just a moment too long.

Your breath a humiliating hitch — and the corner of his mouth curved like he’d heard it, like he could taste the panic and the thrill mixing in your veins.

He leaned in — close enough that his hair tickled your cheek. His breath was warm as he spoke, words threading straight through your ribs.

“But I don’t want you gone.” Sylus’s smirk softened into something darker, hungrier, “I want you here. Right where you are.”

He pulled back just far enough to look at you — his eyes glinting under the streetlight, too bright, too sure, before he got down from the car. Your eyes followed as he rounded the car and stopped to your side.

The door opened. Your hands curled tighter around your bag. Your skin burned under his stare. But your door clicked open anyway, and Sylus’s gloved hand was there — palm up, patient, so infuriatingly steady.

You slipped your hand into his, and he squeezed — just once, just enough to tell you there was no turning back.

“Let me give you the best night of your life, sweetheart.” He murmured, lips brushing your knuckles like a vow, before he tugged you out into the night — toward the dock where the waiting yacht glowed like a secret kingdom built just for you.

Sylus led you down the private dock, your hand swallowed in his — warm, steady, that subtle squeeze every few steps like he liked reminding you you were tethered to him now. The closer you got, the more your breath caught in your throat.

Your jaw nearly hit the polished wood when Sylus helped you step aboard. You felt like a giddy child as you padded across the deck, the boards warm under your shoes, the hush of the ocean wrapping around you like a secret only the two of you shared.

Sylus stayed a step behind you — close enough that the heat of him brushed your shoulders when the breeze kicked up. He didn’t say a word, just let you wander — let you trail your fingertips over the soft drapes, the glassy rail, the scattered petals that shimmered like they’d been kissed by the stars themselves.

Fairy lights strung across the upper deck turned the sea into a bed of diamonds. Somewhere, the low croon of jazz melted into the soft slap of the waves, the kind of music that made you want to dance barefoot with your heart wide open.

You spun slowly, your skirt flowing around like a tulip in bloom. Every detail was perfect — almost painfully so. The candlelit dining table set for two. The soft velvet cushions arranged in the lounge. The chilled bottles resting in a crystal bucket near a tray of tiny, delicate desserts.

Your chest squeezed tight, breath stuttering when you realized there were no other guests, no laughter drifting up from hidden corners. Just you. Just him. And the hush of the sea all around.

You turned, your pulse jumping when you found Sylus leaning against the railing, arms crossed, eyes glittering under the warm glow. Like he was the one thing that made all this beauty make sense.

“There’s… no one else?” You asked, your voice softer than you meant it to be.

He tilted his head, that ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips, “Disappointed?”

Your cheeks warmed.

“No— I just thought…” You gestured helplessly at the fairy lights, the flowers, the empty hush between you, “All this, just for me?”

Sylus pushed off the rail, closing the distance with those lazy, predator-smooth steps that always made your knees go a little soft. He stopped just close enough for you to smell the faint spice of his cologne under the salt-sweet air.

“Told you I'll give you the best night of your life.” He murmured, slipping his hands into his pockets, “I'm a man of my word after all.”

His eyes dipped to your lips, lingering there like a promise, “Tonight, you’re mine alone.”

The yacht hummed beneath your feet, a low, steady purr that seemed to match the way your pulse tripped in your throat. Slowly, the dock fell away, the city lights shrinking behind you like a string of dying fireflies swallowed by the dark.

You braced your hands on the polished railing, the breeze teasing your hair as the gentle sway of the vessel carried you farther and farther from everything you’d ever known — the rules, the walls, the eyes always watching.

Up above, the city’s haze faded into a sky so clear it made your chest ache. A blanket of stars blinked back at you, the moon full and silver, the sea catching every reflection like a thousand scattered diamonds.

For one breathless moment, you almost forgot how to hold all that wonder inside your ribs. Sylus placed a hand on the centre of your back and brought you down to the middle of the deck — where a single table waited like something out of a dream: candles flickering soft golden halos, crystal glasses catching the moonlight, petals scattered across the linen like a promise you hadn’t dared to make.

His hand slid down your back, "Take a seat."

You shot him a half offended look but amusement glinted in your eyes, "Since when do you get to boss me around?"

"I'm not bossing you, sweetheart." He bowed his head dramatically, "It's a humble request of this peasant that you kindly take your seat and provide some rest for your delicate feet."

"Since you asked so nicely — I'll humour you I guess." You chuckled and sat down.

Sylus settled into the chair across from you, legs angled wide, elbow draped over the back like he owned not just the seat, but the whole damn night. Candlelight flickered across the sharp lines of his jaw when he glanced at you — and didn’t bother to look away.

With a snap of his fingers, a server emerged so silently you almost startled — a bottle of deep red wine balanced on a tray. The cork popped, the wine slipped into crystal glasses like ink spreading through water. You caught the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of Sylus’s mouth as he swirled his glass, eyes on you instead of the swirl.

“What would you like, sweetheart?" Sylus took a sip of the wine, letting it rest on the tongue before swallowing, "Order anything you want tonight?"

"Anything? Did you chefs from all over the world?" You meant to tease but the smirk on his face paused you, "Wait! Did you really?"

Sylus shrugged as if it was just another Tuesday, "I told you I'm gonna give you the best night and I meant it, sweetheart."

Your jaw dropped a little, and he had the audacity to look smug about it. You leaned back, arms crossing under your chest, giving him a look.

You turned to the waiter, “Then I want shrimp tempura, a Truffle Fettuccine and Oysters Meunière. For now."

The meal was a beautiful, delicious mess. You’d lost count of how many times Sylus leaned across the flickering candlelight to wipe sauce from your mouth — always with his thumb, always dragging it slow across your bottom lip before sucking it clean, eyes glinting with that insufferable, devastating heat.

Somewhere between the last bite and the swirl of wine on your tongue, the servers faded into the shadows — discreet ghosts. It felt like the whole world had shrunk to this table, this ocean, this man and the way he watched you like he already owned every secret under your skin.

He leaned back, thigh pressing against yours under the linen, “So, when are you giving me your number?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the casual way he asked, “My number? What for?”

His thumb tapped lazy against the rim of his glass, a half-smirk curving his mouth, “So I don’t have to stalk you every time I want to steal you away.”

You laughed — a bright, startled sound that warmed your chest, “Nope.”

His brow arched, the predator’s smile sharpening, “Why not?”

You possibly could not tell him that it's because your father was a crime lord could you?

“There's no fun in that,” You repeated, nudging his shin with your foot beneath the table, “Also my father’s people track every call. He’d love to trace you right back to your home and beat you up. My father is a very important businessman you know.”

His brow arched higher, amusement flickering like a flame in those dark eyes.

“Beat me up?” He echoed, laughing under his breath, low and dangerous.

He leaned forward, elbow propped on the table as his thumb brushed the rim of his glass again — but you could feel the heat of his knee pressing a fraction harder into yours under the linen.

“I’d like to see him try.” Sylus murmured, voice dipped in velvet and knives. He tilted his head, eyes locked to yours, every word a slow drag across your pulse, “So you’re telling me I have to keep chasing you down in the shadows… every time I want you to myself?”

You pretended to think, tapping a finger to your chin while fighting the grin threatening to betray you, “Mm-hm. That’s the price you pay for trying to steal a princess from her tower.”

Sylus’s lips curved into that infuriatingly slow smile — the one that said he could and would burn the whole damn tower to the ground if you dared him to. His knees slid closer — almost touching yours under the table — heat seeping into you like he was a flame and you were tinder.

“And here I was hoping you’d make it easy on me, sweetheart.” He drawled, low, intimate. He leaned closer until your noses almost brushed, his cologne and the salt-sweet night curling around your head like a spell, “But fine. I like a good hunt.”

"What am I? A dear in the wild?" You shot him a look, but the edge of your mouth betrayed you, twitching, “I have a feeling you'll be very insufferable in the future.”

“And you'll love every second of it.” Sylus murmured, a wicked spark lighting behind his eyes. He drew back just enough to drag his thumb once more across the corner of your mouth — slow, deliberate — before bringing it to his lips, his tongue flicking over it like a promise, “Every. Damn. Second.”

You were too busy dragging your fork through the last bite of tiramisu to notice Sylus stand. When you finally looked up, he was watching you with that half-lidded, devastating stare.

He said nothing at first — just stepped around the table, each footfall a soft, controlled echo on the polished deck. He stopped in front of you, close enough that the crisp scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body made your pulse skip.

Then he extended a hand, palm up, fingers loose but sure.

“Dance with me.” Sylus said — simple, low, and laced with a smile you could feel in your ribs.

You let your gaze drift from his hand up to his eyes — the way they glinted like the night was bending just for him, just for you. A teasing huff slipped from your lips as you set your fork down, wiping your mouth with the napkin, stalling just to make him wait.

“Quite a romantic, aren't you?” You teased, but your fingers were already sliding into his palm. His grip closed around you — warm, possessive — a promise and a threat all in one.

The music drifting through the speakers shifted — the jazzy hum softening, melting into something slow, something that curled in your chest like a secret. The hush of the waves, the distant call of the sea, the rhythm that matched your heartbeat.

The music curled around you like smoke — slow, sultry, timeless. Sylus’s hands found your waist, his fingers pressing into the soft fabric, warm through to your skin. He guided you effortlessly, each step a delicious push and pull, your bodies brushing, then parting, then brushing again like you were trying to learn each other by touch alone.

Your palms slid up the hard line of his shoulders, fingertips tracing the nape of his neck where his hair curled just slightly. He hummed at the contact, his eyes half-lidded, his breath a lazy heat against your temple.

When he spun you, you felt the rough pad of his thumb skim the sensitive inside of your wrist — a touch that made your stomach tighten, a spark that shot all the way up your spine. He caught you again, pulling you flush against him, his thigh pressing between yours, stealing the air from your lungs. His nose grazed across your shoulder, breathing you in.

“You’re dangerous like this.” You teased, breathless, lips brushing the sharp edge of his jaw.

His teeth grazed your earlobe, “Look who’s talking. You’re the one who’s got my hands shaking.”

You laughed, but it broke into a soft gasp when he rocked you gently into him, one hand sliding low on your back, the other catching your jaw. His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, and you felt him smile against your cheek, felt the hungry drag of his breath.

The world shrank to the hush of the waves, the whisper of silk and suit, the flicker of candles caught in his hair when he tipped your head back just enough to look at you — really look at you — like you were already half-undone.

But then — that itch. That cold ripple down your spine — the unmistakable feeling of eyes where they didn’t belong.

Your face frowned, your gaze flicked past Sylus’s shoulder. And there he was. One of the servers, lingering by the shadows near the bar, his eyes locked not on the wine or the plates — but on you.

His stare slithered down your body, blatant, hungry in a way that had nothing to do with the dance.

Sylus hadn’t noticed yet — too wrapped up in the way your pulse stuttered under his thumb. But your spine went stiff under his hands. The music, the candlelight — they all felt like they were miles away now, swallowed by the weight of that filthy, lingering gaze.

Your skin crawled under that stare, the filthy weight of it dragging you right out of Sylus’s touch, no matter how warm his hands were on your hips.

You leaned in close, lips brushing his ear, voice sweet as honey, “I’m gonna freshen up. Don’t miss me too much, hm?”

Sylus’s answering hum rumbled against your collarbone, “Hurry back. I haven’t had nearly enough of you yet.”

You managed a smile — one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. He pressed a fleeting kiss to your cheek, but your focus was already locked over his shoulder, on the bastard in the shadows.

As you stepped away, you caught the server’s gaze dead-on — a look that makes perverts drool. You knew he would follow.

You slipped inside the corridor leading to the washroom, your steps soft, your breath steady. The muffled sway of music faded behind you, replaced by the low hum of the yacht’s engines and the slap of water against the hull.

You rounded the corner and waited for him. No long after you heard him — the shuffle of cheap shoes on the polished floor. Pathetic. Predictable.

You didn’t wait for him to speak. The instant he opened his mouth, you spun on your heel and your fist connected with his jaw — a sharp, clean hit that sent him crashing against the wall before he crumpled to the ground like trash.

He let out a low, broken whimper. You stepped over him, heel grinding just enough into his ribs to remind him exactly who he’d messed with.

“Eyes up next time, pervert.” You hissed, brushing imaginary dust from your knuckles.

Without another glance, you slipped back down the corridor, heart pounding not from fear — but from the electric rush of it all. You pushed open the door, stepping back out onto the candlelit deck where Sylus waited, oblivious and still half-drunk on the taste of you.

You let out a breath, smoothed your skirt, and glided back into his orbit like you’d never left.

Sylus lifted an eyebrow, catching your hand to pull you back into the dance, “Everything good, sweetheart?”

You smiled up at him — sharp, satisfied, a secret tucked behind your lips, “Perfect. Now, where were we?”

The ride back was a blur — city lights streaking past the window, your hand tucked safely in Sylus’s like it belonged there, his thumb brushing lazy circles on your skin as if he couldn’t stand to stop touching you, not even for a second.

But your mind was already racing ahead. The creak of your bedroom window. Sara’s worried hush as she’d help you sneak back in before anyone noticed. If you were late, she’d catch hell for it — and you wouldn’t let that happen. Not for anything.

By the time the library came back into view, you almost wished the road would just keep on going. That you could stay wrapped up in this impossible, stolen thing for just a little longer.

Snow fell in soft, fat flakes, landing in Sylus’s dark hair, on the shoulders of his coat, melting against the warmth of your cheeks. He cut the engine, but neither of you moved. The silence stretched until it was too fragile to break.

When he finally did open your door, you stepped out onto the frost-slick pavement, boots crunching on salt and snow. Sylus didn’t let go of your hand — if anything, he tugged you closer under the light of the streetlamp.

“Well…” You murmured, your breath misting between you, “This is… goodbye, I guess.”

Sylus tilted his head, eyes glinting under the amber glow, “When do I get to see you again?”

You let out a soft, helpless laugh, brushing a snowflake off his shoulder, “Whenever fate's wheel wants.”

His thumb stroked your wrist, “Should I just break the wheel then? Twist fate until it’s begging me to keep you?”

Your heart stuttered, “You can’t.”

“Sweetheart.” He murmured, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of him, “Don’t tempt me.”

“Don’t look at me like that” You breathed, every inch of you coiled tight.

“Like what?” His voice was silk and sin, “Like I want to drag you back to my car and ruin you ‘til dawn?”

You almost said yes. Almost begged him to do it. Instead, you rose on your toes, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek — a coward’s goodbye, a promise you’d never speak.

“Goodnight, Sylus.” You whispered, lips ghosting his jaw, “Thank you… for tonight.”

You turned, boots crunching in the snow — one step, two, three, four—

Then you spun around, your chest bursting, your feet carrying you right back to him. You grabbed his collar, yanked him down, and crushed your mouth to his.

The kiss was fire and teeth and too much all at once. His hands caught your hips, fingers digging in like he’d carve your shape into his palms. He bit your lower lip — sharp enough to draw a gasp, sharp enough that you tasted blood when he chased it with his tongue.

You broke away, breathless, lips throbbing.

“Sylus, you dog—” You whispered, half-laughing against his mouth, “You bit me.”

He smirked, eyes blown wide and wild, “Don’t act like you didn’t love it.”

You did. God, you did. This time, you forced yourself to pull back — really pull back, the cold rushing in to fill every place he’d left burning.

“One day.” He said, voice low, promise carved into each syllable, “I won’t have to let you go.”

You smiled — a tiny, trembling thing — and disappeared into the falling snow before your bones changed their mind. The moment you were fully gone out of the view, Sylus’s smile fell away like a mask sliding off glass. He turned toward his car, jaw ticking once, twice.

He pulled his phone from his coat pocket, thumb hovering just a second before he hit call.

“Kierran ” He said when the line clicked open, his voice now all frost and iron, “I want every server from tonight — every single one who set foot on that yacht.”

A pause. His eyes flicked the way you had disappeared.

“Find that piece of shit who couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.” He continued, tone so calm it burned, “Make sure he understands what happens when he looks at something that’s not his.”

He ended the call, the snow catching in his hair, melting on his lips — lips still stained with your kiss, with your blood. His eyes glinted dark as the sea beyond. And then Sylus Qin smiled — but there was no warmth left in it at all.

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fanged-fanfics · 3 months ago

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☆ You Hold a Piece of Me — Cookie Run Dragons x Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Prompt is based off of the headcanon that Dragons offer their scales to court <3

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Pitaya Dragon Cookie

ᯓᡣ𐭩 On the day of the presentation, Pitaya had asked you to a sparring match. You happily accepted, but the Dragon seemed more careful than usual, almost fumbling at times

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Their steps were more measured, moving with a practiced carefulness you hadn't seen from them before. Why now of all times were they holding back? Why were they so distracted? It was so unlike them

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Your answer came when they straightened up once the match concluded, clearing their throat to get your attention. They held out a bright scale, red fading to green shimmering in the light of day while they avoided your eyes

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Don't do anything ssstupid and break it," Pitaya warned in a mumble, a deep blush on their pink cheeks. Their tail wagged a little as they almost shoved it into your hands "A gift from a Dragon should be treated with ressspect! Ssso... take good care of it, alright?!". You smiled as you carefully held it over your heart "I promise. Thank you, Pitaya"

Ananas Dragon Cookie

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ananas always shared their spoils with you, every bit of food and offerings that towered up were lovingly handed to you in kind. They'd even made a nest for you to rest right beside them as they helped you indulge

ᯓᡣ𐭩 They had invited you over for a grand feast, spoiling you by sharing the freshest fruits, and of course allowing you to feed them by hand personally. They then shifted, moving from being tightly pressed to your side to creating sudden distance

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You were about to ask what was wrong, when they held out their claws, cupping a stunning glistening yellow scale between them. Their smile grew fonder at seeing your awe, and they leaned in to whisper to you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "There's a reason I've asked you to this feast," they began, turning over your palm. They gently put the scale in your hand "Take it as an offering from me. A promise that you're my treasure, among all the island's gifts"

Lotus Dragon Cookie

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Wish Dragon was well known for their preference for comfort, and with you that was no exception. You'd gotten your own room in their home, a place to keep utmost serenity

ᯓᡣ𐭩 They called for you, waiting before a large spring lake, strumming their instrument. You came forwards, sitting in front of them and merely watching for a moment. They gave you a fond smile at the sight

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When the song concluded, you applauded, and Lotus chuckled while giving a little bow. They then reached into their robes, extending a rose pink silk-wrapped object to you. You nearly felt your breath catch at the way the emerald scale underneath caught in the silver moonlight

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "It's only fair that I get to have a wish of my own, yes?" Lotus chuckled, cupping their hands under yours "My one desire.. is that you keep this safe. It's a piece of me, you see, and I trust you to take very good care of it. You'll be keeping this for a long, long time"

Longan Dragon Cookie

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You held great respect for the ivory dragon, knowing their kindness did not come easy, but they had always extended a degree of care for you. They kept you safe, guarded by their side for ultimate protection

ᯓᡣ𐭩 In a rare moment of peace, they were gently petting your crispy little cheeks, watching with amusement how easily you felt comforted by their touch. All their eyes watched as they held out a little gold box to you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You looked to them, seeing their firm gaze unwavering as they gave you a little nod. You opened it, seeing the white scale that was within. You took it into your hands, feeling the sharpness of it's edges with awe in your gaze

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Take this and keep it well, little Cookie. It will serve you in the plans to come" Longan said cooly, holding you closer to their form "You do not bend as easily as others do. You have earned this gift, as a token of my notice. Don't make waste of it."

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xoxogyomei · 11 months ago

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ A NEW LETTER HAS ARRIVED..!

✎ DEAR [READER],

🎀 — SYNOPSIS: imagine the male hashiras (Giyuu, Sanemi, Gyomei, Obanai, Tengen, Rengoku & Muichiro) reaction to the reader adoring their scars..!

🎀 — WARNINGS: mild angst, fluff, cursing in sanemi's, references to lore in gyomei's & obanai's (potential spoiler!!), ooc obanai?? (idk how to write him 😔), overall insecurities can be seen throughout

— @xoxogyomei (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

P.S. first post,, hii, all of these are intended as gender neutral but the exception being in Sanemi's (you're called a minx), also as a fair warning literally repeated the words paintbrush & canvas in this so many times 😭😭 please lmk what y'all think!

GIYUU TOMIOKA . . . . . !

╰┈➤ WATER PILLAR

Tries to act indifferently

Fails miserably

Your cold hands trace his back, your fingers brushing over his rough and exposed skin like a paintbrush on a canvas. Giyu shivers slightly under your touch, moving his head to the side to get a better look at you. His expression remains stoic, as if he sees no purpose in why you’re gawking at his scars.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, his tone neutral but a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he sees your eyes tracing every mark that's ever laid upon his back.

“Hmm? Adoring my hardworking and strong boyfriend, obviously,” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes. You can see the slightest hint of confusion in his eyes, as if he doesn’t quite understand why you find his scars so fascinating.

“What if your boyfriend doesn’t like all this attention?” Giyu inquires, his voice steady but his blush deepening.

You move forward, landing a soft kiss on his cheek, brushing a strand of his hair as you do so, “From the way his heart is beating right now, I think he quite enjoys it actually,” you whisper into his ear, your breath leaving his ear warm.

Giyu remains silent for a moment, his gaze locked on the floor. “I don’t understand why you’re so fascinated with my scars. They’re just… reminders of battles.”

“They're part of you,” you say softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his scars gently. “And I appreciate every part of you.”

His eyes meet yours, a mixture of confusion and something softer in his gaze,

“You’re weird,” he says awkwardly simply, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips implying that he doesn't mean it in a rude way.

“Weird in a good way, I hope,” you reply, leaning in to kiss another scar on his shoulder.

“In the best way I'd suppose.” You smile at his response.

Your arms slither around his waist from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder as you hummed. Giyu suddenly found himself incredibly overwhelmed from your touches. He abruptly gets up without a word and simply walks out of the room, leaving you puzzled. The poor boy had to take a minute to recollect himself, leaning against the wall outside, his heart pounding.

As he catches his breath and tries to make the heat from his cheeks disappear, he can't help but smile softly to himself, feeling a warmth spread through him. Even if he won't admit it, your adoration means more to him than he lets on. The blush on his cheeks deepens as he recalls your gentle touches that make his heart crumble.

It takes him a solid two minutes when he finally returns, he sits beside you, his demeanor calm but his eyes softer.

“You're a menace,” he says quietly, but there’s no malice in his words.

“And you wouldn't have it any other way,” you say cheekily, wrapping your arms around him. He doesn’t pull away this time though, instead tries to unstiffen his muscles and allow himself to relax into your embrace, a small, content sigh escaping his lips.

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA . . . . . !

╰┈➤ WIND PILLAR

Sanemi is hostile and defensive but slowly melts into your touch.

He reminds me of a feisty chihuahua wanting belly rubs or something lol

“Ehh, what are you doing, you minx?!” he hisses as you suddenly fall into his lap- catching the male off guard, tilting your head to the side innocently,

“What do you mean?”

Sanemi’s eyes narrow as he stares into your eyes, suspicion written all over his face. “Wipe that smug ass smirk off your face, brat. I know you’re planning something…”

Your grin grows larger as your hands cup his face. His furrowed expression temporarily falls slack as your hands caress his cheekbones. You lift yourself slightly to kiss the scars on the left side of his face. His eyes flutter shut as his body relaxes at your touch. Despite his usual hostility, he has the urge to grab your hands and pull them back to his face as you release your hold on him.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice softer but still laced with suspicion. “What’s your secret motive here you minx?”

“No secret motive,” you say softly, your fingertips tracing the scars on his face almost as though you were afraid he was going to shatter in any second, “Just showing love to my feisty boyfriend.”

“Feisty?” he snorts, though his voice lacked its usual bite, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” you admit, leaning in to kiss another scar. “But you love it.”

His eyes flicker open to look at your grin and then darting his eyes to yours, and he scowls, “Stop looking at me with those pretty eyes of yours and do it again!”

“Do what again?” you tease, enjoying the rare sight of him flustered.

“Kiss me, dipshit!” he hisses, but there’s a noticeable softness in his lilac eyes. Your hands brush the scars on his chest, and this time, you kiss his lips. His tough exterior melts away momentarily as he leans into your touch, his body vulnerable to your embrace.

You pull back slightly, only for him to grip your waist and pull you closer, his lips seeking yours again. His kiss is demanding, filled with a desperation he would never voice outloud. When you finally break apart, both of you breathless, he glares at you with a mix of annoyance and something deeper.

“Don’t think this means I’ve gone soft,” he mutters, his blush deepening as he tries to avoid your smug gaze.

“Of course not,” you reply with a smile, resting your forehead against his. “You’re still my tough, feisty Sanemi.”

He grumbles something incoherent, but his arms remain wrapped around you, holding you close like he was afraid you were going to disappear in mere milliseconds.

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA . . . . . !

╰┈➤ STONE PILLAR

Thinks you’re adorable

Not insecure but is traumatized by a certain scar...

“Gyo?” you hummed softly

“Yes, love?” your partner turned his head at the sound of your voice, his tone laced with concern.

“Do you mind coming down to my level for a minute?” you asked meekly. The giant chuckled deeply before kneeling down in front of you, lifting his head slightly so you could see him better.

You brushed his hair out of his face, your fingers softly tracing the scar across his temple. Gyomei gently nuzzled his head into your hand at the feel of your touch. Though he could not see, he knew you were being as sweet and gentle as you could around his vulnerabilities. The sides of his mouth lifted into a bitter smile as tears rolled down his face. Your other hand wiped away the incoming tears.

“Why are you crying?” you asked quietly, retracting the hand on his forehead, afraid you had hit a sensitive matter by touching his scar.

“You are far too sweet for me, my love. It’s quite an honor being your lover,” he said kindly and tears continued to stream down his face like a gentle river. He grabbed your hand and brought it back to his head, your heart skipping a beat as you looked at the beautiful man you called yours.

Gyomei’s large hand held yours gently, guiding your fingers to trace the scar again.

“This scar,” he began, his voice firm but filled with pain, “reminds me of a time when I was not strong enough to protect those I cared about, and when people did not give me kindness the same way you do now.”

You listened to his melancholic words, your heart aching for him.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” you said softly, your fingers continuing their gentle exploration of his scar, “Not just physically, but here,” you placed your free hand over his softly beating heart.

His bitter smile softened into a genuine one, “Your words mean more to me than you know,” he whispered, tears still streaming down his face.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the scar on his temple. “I love every part of you, Gyomei. Your scars, your strength, your kindness, everything about you.”

He pulled you closer, enveloping you in a tender hug,

“And I love you, more than words can express,” he murmured against your hair. The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth and love, finding comfort in the shared silence.

As you held him, you felt his body relax, the tension in his body slowly melting away and molding into arms like putty. His tears subsided, replaced by an easygoing smile.

“You’re adorable,” he said softly, his voice filled with affection, “I am truly blessed to have you by my side.”

You smiled, your heart full and content as his head rests against your shoulder, “And I am blessed to have you, Gyo. Always.”

OBANAI IGURO . . . . . !

╰┈➤ SNAKE PILLAR

The most difficult to persuade

Literally will panic if you brush across the bandages on his face

I’d assume it would take several tries to get this guy to get rid of the bandages

Poor baby :(

You took a habit of admiring your lover with your eyes rather than with your hands, always tracing his pretty features with your gaze. He was always aware of your constant gawking yet never voicing out his potential discomfort.

After you admired him with your eyes, you would constantly bring up the bandages on his face—not in a bothersome way though. You had been trying to convince Obanai to remove his bandages for weeks. Each time you brought it up, he would tense up and change the subject, his heterochronic eyes filled with a mix of fear and anxiety. Until finally, you decided to try a different approach.

“Obanai,” you called softly, sitting beside him as he tended to his ivory snake. “Can we talk?”

He glanced at you, his expression wary as he spoke harshly, “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, “I just… I want to see all of you.” Your eyes landed on his bandages before meeting his stunned expression. “I know it’s hard, but I promise, I’ll always love you.”

His eyes widened, and he looked away, his hands trembling slightly. “I can’t,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You wouldn’t understand…”

“I want to understand,” you said gently, reaching out to touch his hand. He flinched but didn’t pull away. “Please, Obanai.” You pleaded to him, feeling crushed that your lover couldn’t reach out to you. It made your relationship rather distant.

He remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ground. You waited, giving him the time he needed to process your words. After what felt like eons, he finally spoke,

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice shaking. “These bandages… they hide things you wouldn’t want to see. I look hideous, like a monster," like a freak.

“I want to see all of you,” you said softly, your fingers brushing over his knuckles. “Please, Obanai. Let me show you that you’re perfect to me, no matter what.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he muttered, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You squeezed his hand.

“Let me prove it to you,” you repeated, “Just let me try.”

Obanai hesitated, his breath coming in short, “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “Take your time, but please don’t hide away from me.”

His hands began to tremble under your touch, his eyes searching yours as though he was looking for confirmation. You lifted your lips up in a soft, reassuring smile. He took a deep breath and nodded, giving you the silent permission to start.

With gentle hands, you began to unravel the bandages, your touch soft and careful. Obanai tensed, his breath hitching, but he didn’t stop you. As the last of the bandages fell away, you saw the scar that marred his mouth, a cruel reminder always taunting his lips.

His lips were a pale pink that complemented his skin tone in the best way. One hand reached up to brush your thumb over his lip. He was incredibly tense, his eyes shut as he was too afraid to see your reaction, fearing you would run away from him, slip away from his grasp due to his ugly face.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered in awe, his eyes opening up in surprise as you continued to whisper sweet praises in his ear.

Tears filled his eyes, and he leaned into your touch, his body trembling. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Thank you for loving me.”

You smiled at him before slightly tilting your head and tapping his lips with your finger. “May I?”

He smiled shyly before nodding his head. You leaned in, your lips gently brushing against his, savoring the softness and warmth. His lips, though marked by the scar, were tender. You deepened the kiss slowly, feeling the hesitate way he responded, his initial tension melting away as he allowed himself to bas k in your beauty. His fingers caressed your cheek as you kissed, pouring all his love into the touch.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, his eyes shining with a mixture of vulnerability and newfound confidence. “You’re so pretty,” you murmured, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “And I’m so lucky to have you.”

He closed his eyes, a smile gracing his lips. “I’m the lucky one,” he whispered back, feeling somewhat content.

UZUI TENGEN . . . . . !

╰┈➤ SOUND PILLAR

Smug bastard

Will 100% tell you stories about his scars and over exaggerate every time.

“Tengen!” you chirped as your husband trained outside with his Nichirin blades. The white-haired male paused at the sound of your voice and turned his head towards your figure.

“Hello, darling,” he smiled sweetly, his tone ever-so-slightly smug. “Need something?”

You shook your head before grabbing his bicep and snuggling it close to your face.

“Just missed you,” you mumbled as he chuckled.

“Mmm, well, if my lovely partner misses me so badly, I suppose I could take a break and spend some time with them…” He teased, a playful glint in his eyes as he allowed you to drag him away, watching you with fondness.

As you led him to a shady spot under a tree, Tengen settled down beside you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “You know,” he began, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips, “this one right here,” he pointed to a faint scar on his forearm, “was from a battle with a demon so huge, it could have swallowed our mansion in a bite!”

You raised an eyebrow, already knowing where this was headed. “Oh really?” you played along, holding back a grin. “Our mansion, you say?”

“Absolutely,” he continued, his voice full of exaggeration, “But I took it down with a single swing of my blade! The villagers were in awe, and they begged me to stay and protect them forever. But of course, I couldn’t—had to return to you, darling.” He winked, giving you a cheesy grin as he nuzzled your neck.

You giggled, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re such a show-off, Tengen.”

“Only for you,” he winked, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. His free hand brushing strands of your hair off of your face, “Besides, who wouldn’t want to impress their gorgeous partner?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, resting your head on his shoulder and sighing contently. “You’re lucky I enjoy your silly stories.”

“And I’m also lucky to have someone who listens to them,” he murmured, his tone softer as he pulled you closer so your heads were practically touching.

“Though, if you’re interested, I could tell you about the time I single-handedly defended a dozen of ships from a demon who lived in the sea…” He whispered rather loudly.

You laughed, feeling warm and content in his arms. “Why don’t you save that one for later? Right now, I just want to enjoy some quiet time with my favorite flamboyant hashira.”

He smiled with genuine affection as he peppered kisses all over your neck, “As you wish, sweetheart.”

KYOJURO RENGOKU . . . . . !

╰┈➤ FLAME PILLAR

It will always begin with you praising his scars

And end with him praising you it’s like playing a game of uno with him and all he has is the reverse cards😒

You lay beside Kyojuro in bed, the moon leaving light to see his toned body. Your fingers absently tracing the lines of the scars that decorated his chest. The warmth of his skin radiated like your own personal furnace, you stare at his tainted skin from all his previous battles.

“You’re body is like a canvas, decorated so nicely with stories to tell in every stroke from the paint brush” you whispered, your voice filled with admiration as you whisper pretty nothings to him, “...these scars, they’re proof of how much you’ve endured, they're so pretty," you gushed.

Kyojuro turned his head to look at you, his eyes glowing under the light of the moon. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he gently took your hand in his.

“And you,” he began, lifting your hand to press a kiss to your hand, “are the reason I’ve endured. You're like the artist, without you, my life is an empty canvas."

You blinked in surprise, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Dove, I’m trying to tell you how amazing you are, not the other way around,” You muttered into his chest, he was far too smooth sometimes...

He laughed heartily, the sounded rich in your ears making you feel all giddy inside.

“But it’s true! How could I not praise the one who gives me strength? You inspire me every day!"

You let out a soft groan, trying to hide your smile as you playfully shoved him. “You’re impossible. I’m supposed to be the one showering you with compliments, not the other way around, let me have a moment to praise you.”

Kyojuro grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Ah, but what fun would that be? Besides, it’s my duty to remind you of your own greatness. After all, you are my guiding flame, the light that keeps me going even when I'm running out of firewood.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading through your chest. “This isn’t a competition, you know.”

“Of course not,” he agreed, his voice softer now as he leaned closer, your noses barely touching, “But I’d like to think we’re equals in this. Just as you admire my past wounds, I admire all of you.”

You sighed, feeling a mix of exasperation and complete adoration for the man you had wrapped around your finger, “You’re too much sometimes, dove.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close so you could rest your head on his chest. “And you, my flame, are everything to me,” he murmured, his voice tender and sugary sweet in your ear. Your heart warm and gooey from his words.

As you both lay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you couldn’t help but smile. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, letting the steady beat of his heart lull you to sleep, knowing that in this game of uno, you both were winning.

MUICHIRO TOKITO . . . . . !

╰┈➤ MIST PILLAR

Never pays any attention to his scars

Until you do

Doesn't even know where he got majority of them.

You and Muichiro lay on the cool grass, the night sky stretched out above you like an infinite canvas dotted with twinkling stars that gleamed against the night. The soft breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying with it the scent of midnight. The boy besides you was too busy staring up at the night sky to notice that your attention was not on the stars. Your hand reached out to gently trace the faint scars on his arm, your fingers brushing over the roughened skin.

“Muichiro,” you began softly, your voice blending with the night’s silence, concern knitting your eyebrows, “these scars… didn't they hurt?”

Muichiro’s eyes, distant and unfocused, slowly drifted from the stars to you. He seemed to ponder your words, the faint glow of the moon reflecting in his pale eyes,

“Maybe they did,” he replied quietly, his voice as soft as the breeze. “But I don’t really remember anything about them. It’s like... it's like they’re just… there.”

You smiled, your gaze fixed on him as you continued to trace the lines of his scars with your eyes, “They’re more than "just there", Muichiro. They show how much you’ve been through, how brave you are. Even if you don’t remember every battle, your strength is always with you.” You paused before adding, "It's honorable, but it shows how careless you are with your body sometimes."

He remained silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he stared up at the sky.

“I forget a lot,” he admitted, not really responding to you, his voice almost sounded insecure as he continued, “Sometimes it feels like I’m just... floating, like nothing really stays with me.”

Your heart ached at his words and you instinctively moved closer, cupping his face in your hand. “You might forget some things, but you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

Muichiro’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the coolness of his usual demeanor melting away under your touch.

“I guess you’re right,” he murmured, almost as if he was convincing himself. He leaned into your hand, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the warmth of your sweet touch. The poor boy was starved from touch, and was secretly eager to accept yours like a warm meal.

You smiled, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “You don’t have to remember everything, Muichiro. Just know that you’re loved—scars, memories, and all.”

His eyes opened again, a faint flicker of something warm and tender, something unusual for him.

“You’re different,” he said, his voice soft and filled with something somewhat similar to awe, “Being with you… it feels like something stays. Like I’m not just floating anymore.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll always be here,” you whispered, your lips lingering against his skin as you felt him relax under your touch.

Muichiro’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gazed up at the stars once more.

“Stay with me,” he whisper, his voice almost a plea, vulnerable in a way he seldomly was.

“Always, but take better care of yourself” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you smiled.

"I'll try for you," he promised as you shook your head,

"Try for you and me, Muichiro."

"Alright, I'll try for us both," He agreed as you smiled at his words.

The two of you lay there under the vast sky, your fingers entwined and the darkness wrapping around you like a comfortable blanket, you knew that you had found a way into the heart of a boy who was usually lost in the clouds. And in that moment, under the stars, he was finally grounded—right there beside you.

TAGLIST: n/a if interested in getting tag for when I post a specific character let me know!!

©XOXOGYOMEI | please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work anywhere without my consent.

INTERESTED IN SENDING A REQUEST? stop by my mailbox (aka inbox)! I'll be happy to consider your request (plz send smth)

Thank you for reading! If you like or reblog or even decide to follow me, thank you sm! And if you don’t do any of those things, it’s all good! You spending your time to read this makes my day better nonetheless, so have a good one and drink lots of water and as you scroll down just know that I love you! 💗 Make sure you take a break from scrolling tho — lotus (xoxogyomei)

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gracieheartspedro · 9 days ago

Text

Lotus Eater | chapter 6 - 3.7k words

my main masterlist - eddie masterlist - series masterlist

previous chapter - next chapter

summary: you wake up next to eddie munson. the morning after is never fun.

warnings: slow burn, 18+ mdni, angsty, talks about sexual assault (none has happened), self destructive behavior, reader has mental illnesses that are undiagnosed, lots of arguing, mentions of not wanting to eating food, talks of dealing drugs, money insecurity.

a/n: sorry for this one folks. i bet some of you saw it coming! if not, sorry! thank you for all the continued love and support on this one. i'm sorry this one too a bit longer.

The soft snores from beside you stir you out of your slumber. The moment you are semi-conscious, you note the throbbing of your head. Your eyes crack open, gazing upon a mop of chocolate brown curls lying across the pillow next to you. The more you widen your lids, you notice he is shirtless and tucked perfectly under a comforter.

Your heart stills. There is no way.

You sit straight up, his body being jostled awake by your movements. He groans out, his voice already raspy. You are sitting on the edge of the bed, your bare feet seeming so far away from you. It’s like an optical illusion, sending you into a panic immediately.

He props himself up on his elbows, eyes slowly blinking awake, “Good morning, sunshine.”

You do not waste any time as you jump to your feet, wobbling to get to your shoes and socks across the room, “Take me home.”

You do not disguise your panicked voice. The moment you notice your work uniform all balled up on the floor, your heart sinks. You then become aware of the fact that you are not wearing your own clothes. You take a shaky breath, body rigid at the idea that you may have done something you would regret. Something you lacked memories of.

You slept with Eddie Munson.

Eddie is alarmed by your sudden stance, pulling his legs from the comforter. “Wow… relax-”

You shoot him a look, the color completely drained from your face. Your brain also feels like it may explode out of your skull. “We didn’t do anything, right?”

That’s when his eyes fly open and his legs start moving to the edge of the bed, “What? No.”

He is even quicker to stand up, very clumsily. Like a newborn baby deer, unsure how to use his legs. He is still wearing his skinny jeans, which is a relief at the very least. He is panicked, to say the least, reaching out in defense of himself, “No, no, why would you think that?”

Your eyes flicker down to his state of undress. The scattered tattoos are enough to send your body into panic mode. The stark contrast of the shading and his pasty white skin makes your heart flutter a bit. “You were shirtless and laying next to me.”

He looks down as if it’s the first time he’s seen himself half-naked. “I always sleep with no shirt on. Y-you s-said it was okay.”

He is already sweating, you can tell. Based on the tone of his voice and the shakiness of his words, you believe him. But that does not help the nervousness stirring within you. You had never been that close to a guy, especially not when you were sleeping. It’s jarring to wake up next to the guy you have spent a lot of time with and you consider a friend.

The idea that he could betray your trust and take advantage of you was sending you into a spiral. And it didn’t even happen.

You bite the inside of your lip, scared to even say the words. “So, we didn’t-”

“No,” he states sternly, his eyes never wavering, “I would never ever do that to you.”

There’s a thick tension that falls over you two. You just sway slightly, trying your best not to let your brain go to the worst-case scenario. His eyes are almost desperate. You know he sees the wheels spinning in your head.

The only thing you know how to do is push him away. Make him feel guilty, even if he did nothing wrong.

“This was a mistake,” You whisper, locking your hands in front of your body. You feel like a weight drops on your shoulders, slouching a bit as Eddie searches your face questionably.

He steps a bit closer, his voice small, “What? Sleeping next to me? Or being here?”

Guilt. That is the heaviness that is nagging you.

But you double down. Because you cannot admit the truth. A truth you probably have yet to fully uncover. Your feelings about Eddie, spending time with him, admiring him– all of it was too much.

“I was drunk,” You hiccup, eyes hesitantly glaring up at him, “And yes, it was a mistake sleeping next to you. Being around you is a mis-”

He waves his hand in front of you, narrowing his eyes, “Hey!”

His voice is even more shaky, and it tears your heart in half. For some reason, this argument feels even more vulnerable and tense than any fight with Kacey. Or even your parents.

It could be because you are lying to yourself. You are lying to Eddie.

Every other time, you are too honest. For some sick and twisted reason, you wanted to remain guarded around Eddie. A mystery he could never solve. And much to your dismay, that was going to lead to him being hurt.

You only knew how to make things more complicated.

You clench your jaw, not even wanting to say another word. But the silence is deafening, and you cannot handle looking at the pitiful expression on his face any longer. “Take me home.”

You could not stop bouncing your leg.

The tape Eddie decided to play was louder than usual, probably to drown out the quiet that plagued you two.

As you two left Gareth’s, some of them were awake and excited to welcome you two to some breakfast. You made up some excuse about needing to get home, promising to get Gareth back his clothes on the following Monday. Eddie just stood silently behind you as you lied through your teeth. You are almost positive everyone knew something was wrong.

You practically felt sick with nerves. Your stomach was rolling over every turn that jostled you a bit towards Eddie. Your mind starts to unravel, thinking of how badly it hurts to argue with Eddie. Why do you care so much about his impression of you? Just a couple of months ago, you couldn't have cared less if he even looked your way. But in this very moment, you silently plead for him to say something. To show you those big brown doe eyes and ask if you are alright, even when you did not deserve that courtesy.

You land at a red light in the middle of Hawkins, the squealing of Eddie’s brakes spooking an older couple at the crosswalk.

The lady is dressed in a mid-length pink dress, with large sunglasses perched on her nose. Her gray hair matched her husband’s, but his was set off by his navy blue slacks and gray button-up top. They look towards you as they hobble across the lined pavement, arms locked together. The smiles they give you both make you feel even worse.

It was like they were taunting you. Dangling what it could look like to be happy and secure with another person.

That was something you could not ponder for long. You knew it would lead you back down the same road you found yourself traveling down when your anxiety kept you awake late at night.

The light turns green when they get to the other side of the street. Eddie’s foot leaves the break slowly, leading you to shoot him a quick glance. He is looking at the two old people, too. His eyes were a bit hazy and red, like he had just smoked a joint. Or cried.

He caught on that you looked at him almost immediately. He turned the dial on the radio, muting the music. “Are we gonna like.. Talk?”

Your hands instantly start to shake. You shift them to be wedged between your thighs, almost like you are trying to warm them and not hide them away. Your nerves just loved reminding you that you needed to keep that wall up and protect yourself from getting to the bottom of the emotions that are obvious. “What’s there to say?”

You don’t expect Eddie to scoff, his voice gravelly. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that you are high and low with me constantly? We had a good night-”

It is like he’s trying to throw rocks at your metaphorical glass house. A house you were trying to use duct tape to keep from shattering. Instead of listening to his complete thought, you butt in quickly, “I’m not high and low-”

This time, he returns the favor, abruptly raising his voice at you. “Stop cutting me off! You always do that shit.”

You have never been on the receiving end of Eddie’s anger. And you can tell by his body language that he regretted it immediately. His jaw is clenched, his shoulders raised, his fingers white knuckling the steering wheel.

Admittedly, you knew that you were bad at letting people finish their sentences when you were frustrated. It was like you wanted to protect yourself from feeling remorse, hearing how you may have hurt another person. But this time, instead of yelling back at him, you sit with the heaviest heart.

You don’t realize how hard you are breathing until you hear your own panting. Your whole body shudders, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Eddie exhales, like he has been holding a breath for an hour, “What you said earlier really hurt. You think being around me is a mistake? You feel that lowly of me?”

It feels like a slap in the face. It stings, because no, that is not what you wanted him to believe. But you do not know how to defend yourself. Those words did slip from your mouth. Even if they were just knee-jerk and not relevant to the situation, you still uttered them.

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

You can tell he does not accept that response, slamming his hand into the wheel, “Well that’s what you fuckin’ said!”

You have never truly raised your voice at Eddie, and you never imagined today would be the day. “But you know that’s not how I feel!”

He slams on his brakes, sending you jolting forward. You are on the back road that brings you directly to the entrance of Forest Hills, but to Eddie’s credit, there have not been many cars on the roads. When you peer up at him, jaw tight, eyes wide. You know you are in for it. Eddie’s rage has never been directed at you. The only time you can remember Eddie being this furious was when some jock tripped Mike Wheeler and sent his pudding cup flying onto Eddie’s favorite Dio shirt. You would have thought the sorry son-of-a-bitch shot him directly in the chest.

“Well how the fuck do you feel, sweetheart?! I’m on the edge of my seat!” His voice is strained and almost unfamiliar.

You did not know how you felt, truthfully. You obviously cared for Eddie. He did a lot for you. He looked out for you when you needed it. He spent a lot of time making sure you were included in things he did not have to include you in. He wasted his gas on you countless times. He was a listening an ear when you wanted to complain about your parents or the shitty people who made your life hell at school. And even though he did not care about college, he would ask you questions about which schools you applied to. Asked you about the essay you wrote to get into your dream school.

And even with all that in mind, you could not muster an admission to him. Having to say the words out loud would make this even more convoluted.

“I don’t feel one way or another about you, Eddie. You’re just a,” You breathe out, eyes rimming with tears, “you’re my friend.”

He scoffs. It’s a bitter sound, the hiss of his breath between his teeth. “Well, sorry to break it to you, princess, but the way you talk to me is not how you talk to friends.”

You rack your aching brain as he pulls his foot off the brake, accelerating forward towards your neighborhood. You wish you had the words to make him feel better. To make up for what you said. But you land with just a few hushed words.

“That was not my intention.”

You look away from him as he speaks. You realize that looking at him makes you want to cry.

“You made me feel like I wasn’t even good enough to be in your presence or something,” He practically whispers as you try to disguise your sniffle.

You are such an asshole.

“Well, that’s not true, Eddie.”

Yeah, a big fucking asshole.

He laughs at that, but not in his usual jovial and goofy way. It’s bitter and deep in the back of his throat. It is like he is appalled that you are still trying to defend your position.

“Are you allergic to apologies?” He bites, indignantly, “Seems like it.”

It is almost like the final nail in the coffin. Words completely escape you as tears now replace them. As they rush down your cheeks, Eddie parks the van in his driveway. He does not wait for you to get out first, like he usually does. Instead, he gets out as soon as he removes the keys from the ignition, slamming his door harder than usual.

You watch him saunter into the trailer, the shingles practically shaking when he shuts the front door. The silence is heavier than any stillness you have ever experienced. You unbuckle yourself, slowly moving to grab your balled up work clothes. When you slide out of the van, you do not bother to slam the door or make a point that he can hear through the thin walls of his place.

Instead, you close it quietly and do the walk of shame you were not anticipating ever doing.

You never see Eddie leave his house the entire week. You are still stuck going to work as usual, trying to distract yourself from the dull ache in your chest. Your Mom berates you for more money, telling you she’s short for the water bill, and your Dad’s hours are being cut at the plant.

You give them $100 and tell them to make it last until the end of the year. You did not need to worry about not being able to shower. That would be more ammunition for Kacey and her crew.

On Thanksgiving, your Dad comes home with a bucket of KFC chicken and tells you to help yourself to some. When you tell him you are not very hungry, he rolls his eyes.

“You saving some room for the Munsons’ Thanksgiving?” He mocks, pulling a cigarette from a box of Marlboros. You narrow your eyes at him from the couch, not sure how to even respond to that.

“What are you even talking about?”

He pulls a chicken leg out of the bucket, waving it in your face as the cigarette hangs unlit from his lips. “That Munson boy just dotes on ya’. Was assuming he was gonna invite you over for dinner.”

You cringe when he calls him the ‘Munson boy’. You wave your hands dramatically, standing up from your spot on the sinking furniture. “We aren’t talking right now. I pissed him off.”

Usually, you avoided giving your Dad any perspective on your personal life, but you truly had no one else to talk to about this. The cook at work told you that you needed a therapist after you told him you had no friends. So, you have resorted to spilling the beans to your half-deadbeat Dad.

He drops the chicken leg back in the bucket, spinning a lighter in the other hand and lighting the end of the stick. “Well, he ain’t good enough for you anyway, baby doll. Heard he’s slingin’ over there.”

Your ears perk up, “Who told you that?”

He blows smoke out of the side of his mouth, giving you a mocking smirk, “Don’t worry 'bout it. Just be careful around him, you hear me?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You had no clue if Eddie would even want to drive you to school on Monday morning. You wake up extra early, pulling on your usual outfit and your winter coat.

Indiana was not getting any warmer. The cold would wear you down to the bone even if you were only outside for a couple of minutes. December was always the worst time of the year for your depressive episodes, especially when it got dark quicker. It was shaping up to be the same thing this year.

You slip outside, the frigid air immediately freezing your hands. You tuck your hands in your coat pocket, waiting for Eddie to finally slip out of his house. You decide to sit on your stoop, afraid your legs may give out with how much they are shaking. Nerves? Extremely cold? Who knows.

You are not sure why you are secretly hoping he ices you out completely and never speaks to you again. Maybe it would make the pain of the argument subside, and you could finally get rid of the rattling thoughts and pain in your ribs. But, no.

He walks out with a cigarette already lit between his lips. You stand up on wobbly legs, walking towards the asphalt that separates your driveways.

“Mornin’,” You hardly manage, your voice unsteady. He was wearing his usual outfit, but instead of his high-top shoes, he was sporting some black combat boots that were scuffed to hell.

He takes a drag from the cigarette, flicking it as he blows out the smoke, “Hi, sunshine.”

He gestures for you to get in the van, which you do without another word. He seems normal. Painfully normal.

Like, was he not reeling like you? Was the fight not that big of a deal to him? Was he isolating himself because he needed to get his head back on straight? Or was he just busy doing who knows what? Why is his leg not bouncing like yours as he drives? Where was his jean jacket? It was cold outside, and he should have been wearing it.

You sit in the van for the first two minutes of the ride, your brain spinning with a million and one questions and stupid thoughts. You realize you have not looked the man in the eye once yet. You slowly cock your head towards him, seeing if he would look back at you.

And he does almost immediately.

Then the words fall out of your mouth, unrehearsed, “I am not good with emotions.”

His eyebrows raise at your confession, but he says nothing. His eyes trace back to the road in front of him, the heat from the vents blowing his dark hair back slightly.

You think back to the internal dialogue you had the night before. You needed to be honest for once in your damn life. Eddie deserved that at the very least. You could not spend another day making him believe you hated him. Or resented him.

You clear your throat, “I fucked up, okay? I just wasn’t really expecting to enjoy hanging out with you, and it scared me. When I woke up next to you, my mind raced to the first awful thought and clung to it. And that was wrong.”

You do not know why those certain words hang in the balance for you. You always had an issue saying sorry because it was like almost admitting defeat. You liked to believe that a lot of your pride could stay intact if you just weaseled your way out of saying those specific words. I’m sorry.

But Eddie needed those words. He deserved them.

“And I’m sorry,” You almost choke, the words catching right behind your teeth, ”I’m sorry for being rude to you. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”

The fucker smiles at you. A big wide grin that you missed so goddamn bad. “There it is, sweetheart.”

You instantly want to shrivel up in your seat. You clench your fist like a little kid would when they are frustrated someone won’t let them have a turn on a swingset, “You’re such an ass-”

He waves his heavily ringed fingers in your face, blowing you off. “Thank you for apologizing, sunshine. I am sorry for how heated things got. I never want to raise my voice at you.”

“You are loud when you yell,” You confess, your body shifting a bit away from him, “But yeah... I should’ve apologized sooner. Like I said… not good with emotions.”

His smile drops a bit as he shrugs. He brings his hand to your thigh, squeezing it tightly, “You will get there, don’t worry. You’re not entirely emotionally stunted.”

You cannot stop the noise coming from your chest at his teasing. Even over your jeans, his hand felt so heavy, that warmth radiating, spreading all through your body. You swipe his hand, but he pulls it away before you could actually touch him, “And here I thought I was more emotionally intelligent than you.”

He giggles at your jab. That sound only further brings heat to your body.

You return a smile as he pulls into the same gas station he did every morning. He throws the van in park and checks his pack of cigarettes. He had enough to last him the rest of the day.

But you knew you would be parking in the same lot tomorrow morning, so he could get more.

“If I get you donuts, will you actually eat them?” He asks, unlocking his door. He does not turn the van off, luckily. You would probably freeze within a minute or two. You ponder his question for a moment, clicking your tongue as if deep in thought.

“Probably not,” You answer, watching him slide out of his seat. You catch a peek at his checked underwear as his silver chain drags across the seat. You ensure to move your eyes quickly up to his gaze again, “But I could go for a Yoohoo.”

He grips onto the door before it can creak too much, a smug grin taking over his entire face. It sent a jolt straight to your chest. “Now you’re speaking my language, sunshine.”

dividers from @/saradika-graphics

taglist: @moon-esque @walleloveseve @kellsck @awkward00noodle @person-005 @emxxblog @mediocredreams @justalotoffanfiction

@kelsiegrin @whenimhomealoneijustdance @cherryheairt @thejordiverse @3rd-conchord @micheledawn1975

@littlemissholy @jeangeniex @heart-eye-love

@thelastemzy @katsfandomcorner @itmightbehayley @cowboylikemunson

@kawaiisaladobject @tootsiefootsie @twirls827 @kirsteng42 @fandom-princess-forevermore

#i'm sorry about this one guys #don't worry!!!!#i promise more fluff later <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson stranger things #fic: lotus eater #gracieheartspedro

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tinalbion · 4 months ago

Text

'𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rick Hatchett x afab!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, do NOT interact! Rick is on his own at the White Lotus. Slight angst, smut with plot, age gap, shameless flirting with a man in his 50s, drinking, shower sex, unprotected p in v, fast developing feelings

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 13.1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Rick Hatchett is on vacation to escape the harsh reality of life, and even then, he can find himself wallowing at the bar. And then you come along and give him a run for his money, causing him to rethink things while enjoying vacation. But what could the harm be in some shameless flirting?

Dedicated to @free-for-all-fics who has been watching the new episodes with me every week!

This was supposed to be a vacation, but no matter what he did or how he approached it, it still felt like he was on a business trip, never resting. Even being thousands of miles away from home, taking in the sights of Thailand had left a bitter taste in his mouth and became almost impossible for him to ease into. Tension already knotted in his muscles, his mind just as far away as he was, even though he’d only been here a day, he was hoping and silently praying that being here would ease some of the internal suffering he felt. What a wonderful start to his arrival at the White Lotus.

Rick Hatchett had been slumped over in his seat at the hotel bar, elbows resting on the counter as he stared into the glass before him, the bar already abandoned by the majority of the guests as they retired for the evening, and he barely took notice that someone was even beside him.

You had walked up to the bar, barely starting your night as you escaped your family, slipping away as soon as they’d been distracted enough, and ordered one of the strongest and fruitest drinks they had. You couldn’t help but look over at the man who sat as still as a statue, taking notice of his expression. Was he sad? Stressed? Everything in between? You smiled softly and cleared your throat to alert him of your presence.

“Rough night?” you asked softly.

The man slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, immediately taken aback by your soft smile. It wasn’t something he was usually greeted with; a pretty little thing like you smiling so sweetly at him. He looked you up and down before letting out a dry scoff, his expression still slightly tense.

“Is it that obvious...?”

“A little,” you replied with a gentle tone. “You gonna be okay?”

Another quiet scoff slipped from him, though in truth, he found her company to be more of a comfort than a burden even though she’d just shown up, unlike most of the other guests here. You weren’t loud, obnoxious, or questioning him in a way that could come off as rude. He ran a hand through his graying black hair, greeting you with a shrug.

“I doubt it. Just… Life, you know? And it doesn’t stop for any one of us,” he mumbled, his gaze now settled back on his whiskey.

“You’re right; that’s why I’m here. It's a change of pace, I guess. Well, my family is here, they at least got me my own room. Sorry, you didn’t ask for my life story.” I laughed softly and turned back to the bar. “Hey, next drink on me?” I offered.

His gaze lifted from his whiskey and back to you before he raised his eyebrow at the offer of a free drink. Perhaps it was the alcohol already in his system, but the man felt his lips tug into a soft smirk, a barely-there hint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re offering a stranger a free drink…? You don’t even know my name, sweetheart…”

He did have a point, but you were feeling bold and wanting to come out of your shell while on vacation, plus you’d been working up the courage to speak to him since you saw him earlier when you all arrived here. “Well, I feel like you could use a drink, and pass the liquid luck onto someone deserving.” You shrugged casually and smiled.

Rick stared at you for a moment longer before his smirk widened, but only slightly. He found your words to be almost… cute, in a sense. Or perhaps it was the drink in his system telling him such an idea. Either way, he shrugged and motioned to the bartender.

“Then by all means, if you’re gonna keep offerin’, at least let me know your name,” he said, offering his hand out to you.

You smiled wider and took his hand, shaking it firmly as you introduced yourself, taking note of how large his hand looked against yours. The bartender brought your drink and slid it to you while also bringing the man’s drink. “A pleasure to meet you. So, what’s yours?” you asked him.

His hand was larger, his grip firm as he shook your hand in return, a charming smirk on his lips all the while. Though underneath the facade, a subtle sense of exhaustion could still be found in his dull eyes. “Rick,” he said, his expression still soft. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart.”

“Rick,” you said, rolling the name around from your lips, “I like that name.” Your eyes flickered to his hand as he withdrew it, looking at his rings.

Rick’s gaze watched as your eyes seemed to linger on his hand, a slight, almost barely-there scoff escaping him. He flexed his fingers slightly as you watched, raising a dark eyebrow at you. “Do you now?” Rick murmured sarcastically.

He liked the way it sounded on your lips, oddly enough.

“Yeah, it’s a nice name. Don’t meet many people named Rick. Has a bold meaning behind it, powerful ruler, I think. So, you hear for business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure, if things would actually go my way…” Rick grumbled, his gaze returning to his almost empty glass of whiskey as the new one sat beside it. He slowly looked back at you, eyeing you curiously for a moment. “And what about you? What brings you to the White Lotus?” He tilted his head slightly.

You looked over at him with a soft expression. “Wanna talk about your troubles? I know I’m a stranger, but maybe you’ll never see me again, no harm in having someone listen,” you offered as you slid into the stool next to him, leaning your elbow against the bar as you faced him.

Rick looked at you, a bit taken back by your offer, and yet, somehow a part of him was slightly tempted to accept it. The alcohol was definitely to blame, there was no way he’d consider it otherwise, but he felt drawn to you, wanting to talk to you. Or maybe it was just the loneliness and exhaustion talking. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze still on you.

“...Sure, but what do I get out of this? I’m not lookin’ for a free therapy session.”

You scoffed and looked at him with a wide grin. “Well, maybe another free drink?”

He scoffed as his smile widened, enjoying this bit of banter with you. “Another one? You trying to get me drunk, sweetheart?” He asked jokingly.

“I think you’re already there, Rick,” you teased playfully.

Rick paused for a moment and then scoffed at your comment. He knew you were absolutely right, and he couldn’t bring himself to argue with you there. Instead, he just ran his hand through his hair again and sighed. “Yeah, yeah… but it’s not my fault, alright? This stuff is pretty damn good…” he said, gesturing to his empty glass and now half-drunk glass.

“That is true, this place has great stuff,” I replied as I held up my glass and offered a toast. “To newfound friends and interesting conversations.”

After taking a moment to eye you up, Rick gave you a small scoff and his smile softened. He raised his glass in return, lightly clinking his whiskey against your drink. “I’ll drink to that, sweetheart,” he murmured as he took a swig.

You clinked your glass against his and smiled wide. “Cheers,” you hummed and took a large swig of your drink.

He followed your lead and took a large gulp of his, finishing his whiskey as he leaned back slightly, a hand returning to run through his messy hair. He gave you a once-over as he tilted his gaze, taking in your features. “So, you ever come here before? You’re not from around where I’m from, your accent doesn’t sound like it, at least.”

“I’m probably not, but you’re definitely not where I’m from either, I take it,” you replied cheekily.

Rick gave a dry scoff and rolled his eyes. “You’re a sassy one, ain’t you?” he asked in a low, almost playful tone as he slid the empty glass toward the edge of the bar.

“I’ve been told,” you said with a laugh. “But I like to have fun when I can. I’m on vacation, I wanna let loose this week when I’m not near my family.”

He tilted his head as he eyed you with a soft smirk growing on his face. You were surprisingly enjoyable to talk to and to joke with. He found himself growing more amused by you the more you spoke. Then again, you had a free drink to thank for that.

“You’re awfully friendly for a stranger, you know that sweetheart?” he mused.

“Only to the people I think are really cute,” you said sweetly, shooting him a playful wink.

And just like that, Rick felt his face grow warmer, he found himself unable to keep from raising an eyebrow at your remark, his smirk still there, if not a bit lopsided now. Cute? Not many people had called him that in a while, he couldn’t even recall a time he had been called cute.

“T-Trust me, there ain’t nothing cute about me, sweetheart,” he said somewhat sarcastically.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you brought your drink to your lips, your eyes glued to his. “You must be blind, then,” you hummed and took a drink. “I think you’re downright handsome.”

If he thought his face was warm before, he knew it was even worse now, his neck feeling flush. Hiz's gaze, almost stunned, shifted between your eyes, and a slightly dumbfounded, slightly flustered expression made its way onto his face. His ego was clearly surprised, a soft scoff escaped him as he quickly shifted his gaze away from you. He wasn’t used to people being this brash.

“You’re just saying that, sweetheart…”

You shook your head and gave your own scoff. “I am not just saying that! Hell, I was nervous to come and talk to you, if I’m being honest.”

Rick’s gaze returned to yours in an instant, a mixture of surprise and disbelief in his expression. “...Why on Earth were you nervous to talk to me?” he asked, his voice gruff as he ran his hand through his hair again, an unconscious, nervous tick of his.

You smiled softly, resting your chin in your hand as you leaned against the bar. “Handsome older man, sitting alone, looking sour-faced and upset, I was afraid I’d get approached by an angry girlfriend or something, get my ass kicked,” you teased.

Rick couldn’t keep himself from giving a dry laugh in response to your admission, though admittedly, he was still surprised by the compliment. He gave you a sly smirk and leaned back in the chair, his gaze dropping ever so slightly from your face. “No darlin’. No girlfriend, no wife. Just me, myself, and whatever the hell I got goin’ on,” he replied sarcastically.

“Well, that’s unfortunate, but not for me,” you said with a smirk. “So, why have you come to the White Lotus?”

Rick looked down at his glass. His smirk slowly faded as he let out a tired sigh. Then, he took the last swig of his drink before he looked back at you, an exhausted, almost saddened glint in his eyes. “...Thought the vacation would maybe be a break. A bit of fun, at the very least. But I guess life doesn’t like to take breaks,” he said almost bitterly.

“How so?” You asked softly, leaning in closer.

Rick paused for a moment before pushing his glass toward the bar again, signaling for another refill. He drummed his fingers on the bar top, wondering what he should even say considering he’d never been one to really discuss his personal life, especially to a complete stranger. But for some reason, be it the alcohol affecting his thinking skills or the sudden loneliness, he felt an odd sense of desire to share these things with you. You just felt… easy to talk to.

“Family problems, mostly…”

You leaned forward slightly and looked at him with a gentle gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry, Rick,” you said softly as you placed a hand over his to offer some comfort.

Rick wasn’t used to public displays of this sort of thing, his eyes shifted to your hand resting over his before he looked back up at you. A wave of… something… went through him. Surprise, definitely. But also a twinge of… comfort? What the hell was even going on with him tonight? One woman was offering free drinks and a free ear at the bar of this insanely fancy resort.

“...It’s fine, darling,” he muttered, pushing the offer away, much like he pushed others away.

“Well,” you began as you sipped at your drink, “I’ll be here all week, probably the same as you if you need to talk. I know, ‘stranger danger’ and all that, but I mean, we’re both here, we’re both alone, may as well have each other’s backs.”

His gaze went back to your hand as it still remained over his, feeling stunned, as if he was being honest with himself. Your presence was oddly soothing, or at least, that’s what he figured it was. He found himself unable to look away from you as he slowly nodded. “Yeah… yeah, why the hell not?”

You smiled and nodded with a wide smile. “Great, that’s awesome. And if you need anything, my suite is 215, okay?”

Rick slowly nodded once more, his gaze slowly shifted away, now focused on the bar itself. He thought the alcohol was probably getting to him, that was all. That was the only logical explanation for the way he was currently feeling. Nothing else. He did, however, give your hand a brief squeeze.

“Yeah, thank you…”

You offered him a gentle smile and removed your hand from his, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. You took one last sip from your drink and sighed softly, enjoying the peace and quiet of the resort’s bar.

Rick almost protested about the removal of your hand. In fact, much to his chagrin and slight surprise, he almost felt something when you removed your hand from his. He let out a soft sigh of his own as his gaze shifted across the bar, watching the few scattered about and left the bar, leaving just you two.

“You know,” you began softly as you leaned over, “there are some real… characters at this resort. But you seem to be the only one worth talking to.”

He almost found himself having a hard time breathing as you leaned closer, his heart pounding when you spoke so gently to him. He was glad the light was somewhat dim in here, it sort of obscured how flushed he was becoming. He let out a small scoff. “I’m hardly any better, I’m just a broken man, that’s all.”

You looked over at him, your gaze softened as you studied his face for a moment. “I don’t think you’re broken, Rick,” you replied lightly.

He paused, his expression shifted into something softer as he looked over at you in stunned silence. He wasn’t used to having a stranger look at him in such a way, a way that made him question things, and reassured him so… gently. He wasn’t used to the warm pit he felt in his stomach as you spoke to him. He forced a dry laugh, shaking his head.

“You don’t know me, sweetheart, you don’t understand, or you’d see how broken I am. Trust me.”

You looked at him and felt the sadness well up within you, wishing you could comfort him in the way he needed to be, the way he deserved to be. You let out a sigh and looked down at your hands as you tapped your fingers gently on the bar, then you looked back at him.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re broken. I just think you’re lost and you don’t know what to do to fix it.”

Rick gave you another soft scoff, thinking you almost sounded sincere. He found himself unable to argue, his shoulders slumped slightly forward as he rested a hand under his chin. You were too cute. And too kind. Too… everything that made him feel something besides anger and despair. “Lost is definitely a good word for it,” he mumbled.

Your gaze never wavered as you took in his melancholic mood. “I’m sorry for whatever you’re going through, Rick,” you said with a gentle tone, offering him that kindness you rarely found yourself giving to many others.

He was quiet. His gaze remained on yours as a tired sigh escaped his lips, he was too exhausted for this. Rick wasn’t used to people apologizing for his problems, or people even noticing them in the first place, for that matter. They never really got to considering he pushed them away before they could get to the root of the problem.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” he said, a slight slur in his tone as the alcohol began to hit him all at once.

“Want me to walk you to your room? You should get some rest, hon,” you offered, placing your hand gently on the back of his arm as you looked at him.

Rick thought about it for a long moment. Should he have you walk him up? Was he just trying to keep your company because of his loneliness? Was it the alcohol influencing him? In his tired and slightly drunken state, he decided against his better judgment and nodded once. “Yeah… yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

You smiled wider and nodded, tipping the bartender graciously as you got to your feet and stepped closer to Rick, able to now smell his cologne and the whiskey on his breath. “Again, if you need me, I’m in 215. Now come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He stood up, the sudden rush of sitting down for so long hitting his head in an instant, almost causing him to stumble. He leaned on the bar for a moment, trying to regain his bearings, Once he was steady again, he grumbled, giving his head a shake. Rick looked over at you, an expression of both exhaustion and slight irritation. “Lead the way.”

You placed your hand gently on his back, letting out a gasp as he stumbled slightly. Once he stood up, you offered your arm if he wanted to use it to balance, walking slowly alongside him. He looked over at you as you offered your arm, the drunken side of him taking over as he accepted it. You felt so soft, almost too soft… His arm wrapped around your arm, holding on tightly. Just for support, of course.

He tried to focus his eyes on the room numbers as you both neared the end of the hall, the feeling of his impairment and exhaustion making it difficult. He let out a soft grumble as he finally found his room number on a door. He lifted his arm and pointed. “There, 212,” he said in a soft, low tone, his arm still around yours as he pulled you in that direction.

“Alright, let’s get you inside,” you hummed as you watched him tap the key card against the lock. “Glad you made it up here,” you hummed as you helped him through the door. “I hope I can see you again tomorrow, I had a fun time talking with you. And we’re practically neighbors, I’m just a few doors down.”

With a soft click, the door to his room unlocked and he swung it open, allowing you to steer him inside before he let go of your arm. He stood still for a moment before he tapped around the wall to flick the light on. His gaze turned to you again, a small smirk on his face as you spoke, his expression softening.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “I had a nice time talking to you, too, sweetheart.”

Without permission, you took the initiative and walked toward his kitchen and grabbed a glass of water for him, welcoming yourself into his room. You came back and placed it on his bedside table, smiling softly. “You try to sleep, drink some water so you’re not miserable in the morning, and take care of yourself.”

He watched you as you managed to surprise him once more, the little things that showed you were actually worried about him, and he watched as you backed toward the door, the hesitation in your movements. He found himself feeling tired, yet he didn’t want you to leave.

Another new feeling, Rick thought to himself.

“Thank you. You too, see you tomorrow…” His words slurred slightly.

You offered one more smile as you walked toward the door and closed it gently behind you, resting against it as you let out a sigh. Rick was left alone, standing there in his massive room. He let out a soft breath before he began to slowly undress, kicking off his pants and tossing his shirt to the side as he sat on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t shake the feeling of you as he sat there, sipping slowly at the water, a weird sense of warmth had taken up residency in his stomach. Once he chugged half the glass, he laid back on the bed with a huff and dragged half the comforter over him.

As he settled into bed, he found himself looking forward to tomorrow.

The morning sun eventually rose out over the resort, the ocean waves sparkling beneath the rising colors, and those rays began to peek through the curtains of Rick’s room. He ended up sleeping through the night, barely tossing and turning as the exhaustion from yesterday kept him from waking. He opened his groggy eyes, wincing at the bright light, turning away as he let out an annoyed groan. He pushed himself up to look at the time, grumbling as he ran a hand over his face as he attempted to get his bearings.

You had woken up almost an hour ago, already having showered, done your morning routine, and ate something light to curb the hunger. You hummed softly as you scrolled on your phone for a little bit, and your mind wandered to Rick, wondering if he’d slept okay.

With a hum, you figured you’d get down to the pool before a lot of others decided to, wanting to get some early sun. You slipped into your bathing suit and grabbed a book, your earbuds, and a few other things you slipped into your bag. You figured Rick would sleep in for a bit, so you had some time to yourself before you’d go and check on him.

Rick had finished rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he glanced over at the clock once more. It was still fairly early in the morning and yet he was sitting here, awake and on vacation. Of all the times to wake up early, today was a bad day. His head throbbed a bit though, just as he figured. He drank a bit too much.

He sighed softly, finally finding the strength to get out of bed, hoping that a nice relaxing shower would help him get his mind clear from the hangover he’d be suffering through.

It took him longer than he’d hoped to fully wake up, though the shower helped, as did some coffee as he stood out on the balcony. He’d dressed in his normal loungewear, a designed button-up shirt with dulled hibiscus blooms and cool-colored palm trees. As he looked out at the water, he figured he’d try to walk around the resort and get his head clear, so he grabbed a small water from the fridge and left his room. He took a deep breath as the fresh air helped a little bit, navigating his way toward the pool area.

You had been there already, lounging in the chair as your sunglasses were on, your book held up to your face as the sun had been rising higher and higher. The weather was perfect and you were enjoying the quiet before the hoards of people took over.

Even Rick had to admit it was beautiful outside, though his headache was still there, but it was lessening in intensity. The hotel was mostly quiet save for the early birds who liked to be up before many of the others, and Rick looked around as he slowly walked down the hall that led to the pools. Eventually, he found himself at one of the pool areas, his eyes landing on the only person lounging near it.

You hadn’t noticed him right away, you were too engulfed in the story you were reading as you took advantage of the early morning silence. He was quiet as he approached you, a small smirk on his face as he noticed how focused you were on the book. Something about that amused him. He cleared his throat, now standing beside your chair.

“Enjoying the morning, sweetheart?”

You looked up at the voice and smiled wide, seeing him looking as handsome as ever, you closed your book and set it aside as you pushed yourself to sit up. “Well, good morning, Rick, how’d you sleep?”

He gave a small scoff but it held no irritation. “Decent, if only I didn’t drink so much last night. Woke up with a helluva headache.”

“Oh,” you gasped as you turned over to reach for your bag, digging through it, then you turned back to him, handing him a small bottle. “Here, I got some aspirin if you need it.”

Rick was surprised but he took the bottle gratefully, opened it, and poured out two pills into his palm, taking it with the water he had on him. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he said with a slight clear of his throat.

“No worries, I always come prepared, especially since it’s partially my fault you have that hangover,” you mused with a lopsided grin.

Rick chuckled softly, his eyes looking down at you through the lenses of his sunglasses, and then he sat down in the beach chair beside you. “Oh, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. You weren’t the one who insisted on chugging down like five drinks in a row,” he said with a dry scoff.

You couldn’t hide the large smile across your face as you placed the bottle back in your bag. “Well, still, I didn’t help,” you said with a laugh. “You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“Couldn’t sleep that well at the tail end of it, that’s all. Headache made it difficult, but I’m managing,” he said, his eyes wandering over your figure as you sat there.

“Anything I can do? Want some coffee? I heard they have a really good cappuccino.”

His gaze continued roaming across your body, the visible skin looked so soft, and the way your swimsuit hugged you in all the right places didn’t leave much to his imagination. He had to admit, you were a pretty damn good distraction from the headache.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by your offer, so he cleared his throat and sat up a bit further. “Yeah, that sounds fantastic right about now.”

You sat up and smiled as you swung your legs over the side of the chair, sliding into your sandals. “Okay, you wait here, I’ll go and grab them,” you offered. “Save my spot!”

Rick felt something tug at his heart as you sat up and looked at him like that, the smile on his face only grew as you stood up and placed your hand gently on his shoulder, showing him that you were just being friendly. Though you weren’t entirely sure why you were being this overly friendly to a man you’d just met last night. It wasn’t often that you’d go out of your way to be this kind, but something about him struck you as you sat at the bar last night, and you were hooked on him.

Rick’s body stiffened ever so slightly as your hand touched his shoulder, finding himself trying to force the growing butterflies in his stomach to go away, but he was horribly failing. He watched as you walked off, your figure disappearing through the opened doors of the resort, then he sighed and leaned back in the chair.

You arrived only moments later with the largest cups of cappuccino you could get your hands on and smiled as you approached the chair he sat on. “Hey, I got you the classic cappuccino, feel like it would benefit you better since it’s stronger.” you leaned over and handed it to him.

Rick’s head snapped up as you reappeared, a small smile spread across his face as you handed him the coffee. He took it from you and sipped at it, sighing happily at the taste. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he hummed as he gave your cup a curious glance. “What’s yours?”

“I just got French vanilla, unless you’d prefer this one, I don’t mind either way,” you said with a soft tone as you sat back on the chair.

Rick shook his head and then took another sip of his coffee. “Nah, I’m more of a plain coffee guy, nothin’ too fancy. You keep yours, suits you better.” He smirked at you again, realizing that he’d been a bit of a flirt, and he wasn’t sure why he was being this way with you.

“Oh, it does, huh?” You asked him playfully. “Well, thanks. If we really like it, we can always get you another one later on.” You sat back in your chair and leaned back, smiling over at the older man.

He chuckled and looked over at you, taking notice of the playful tone of your voice, which only made his smirk widen a bit. He took another sip before turning to look back at you, letting out a sigh of contentment. “Yeah, I’m really liking this, it’s just what I needed. Thanks again.”

“Glad it’s helping,” you offered sweetly. “I’m a bit of a coffee drinker so I’m glad they have top-tier coffee.” You hummed happily as you took another drink, enjoying the taste of the warm beverage.

Rick was glad you were the talkative type, he could just focus on your voice, cute quirks, and… other things while you talked, and he didn’t have to make small talk. The coffee was a nice help, and he tried his best to feel less hungover. “I’m not surprised. You seem like the type that needs a cup or two every morning, sweetheart,” he teased.

You gave him a feigned look of insult but laughed shortly after. “Well just because you’re right doesn’t mean you should call me out like that,” you laughed.

He smiled at the sound of your laugh. God, you were adorable. He couldn’t stop his gaze from roaming over your figure again, admiring the way you looked in your swimsuit. He listened to you talk, though he was drifting in and out as he just looked at you.

You didn’t notice him zoning out, at least, it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You knew he was going through a lot, and if him sitting here listening to you blabber had helped, then what else could you do? You looked across at the pool and out at the sky as you adjusted your sunglasses.

“So, what plans do you have lined up for today, Rick?”

He had to force his gaze back up to your face, his mind almost fogging up on the sudden attention he had placed on himself. “Honestly? Not much. My head is still pounding, so I’m probably gonna lounge around all day, try to get rid of this damn hangover.”

You looked at him with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. If you don’t mind, maybe I could stick around with you today? Make sure you stay hydrated and try to help your hangover.”

Rick was surprised by your offer, especially just wanting to be around him in general, but specifically to help him. Take care of him? Was this real, or was the alcohol still messing with his head? He decided to test the waters as his smile grew, taking another slow sip from his coffee.

“Yeah? You’d wanna spend an entire day with a lonely old man?” He teased.

You looked at him, almost offended as you held your cup to your lips and paused, giving him a scoff. “First off, you’re not old, second, you’re not lonely. I’m here now,” you said matter-of-factly.

His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as you scoffed at him. “Oh, don’t let the grey hairs fool you, darlin’. I’m past my prime,” he replied, a slightly bitter yet playful tone in his voice.

“More like aged like a fine wine,” you suggested with slightly raised brows, sipping your cappuccino.

Rick couldn’t hold back the laugh he let out, his eyebrows raised slightly in amusement. “You charmer. Didn’t think you’d go for an older man like me,” he replied, taking another long sip from his coffee, eyeing you over the rim of his cup.

“Jokes on you, I’m into older men,” you replied with a nonchalant tone, looking down at your phone as you checked the time, sipping your coffee.

He nearly choked on his beverage as your words caught him completely off guard. He barely managed to force the coffee down his throat, clearing his throat once or twice as he attempted to catch his breath. Once he recovered, he looked at you incredulously. “Is that so…?” He asked, a bit more flirtatious with his tone.

You leaned over as you placed your phone down on your lap, then placed a hand on his arm. “And not just any older men, I only talk to the really hot ones who seem my type,” you replied with a smirk.

Rick’s heart skipped a beat as your hand touched his arm, but this time, he didn’t stiffen. He let your hand linger there, his eyes locked onto your face as he tried to calm his pounding chest. “Yeah? You’re saying I’m hot?” He leaned slightly closer toward you, his demeanor completely changed.

“Well, yeah, obviously. Must I spell it out for you?” You teased, giving him a little lip.

“You’re a little spitfire, you know that?” Don’t know when to watch your mouth.” He was still staring intensely at your face.

“What, is that a problem?” You asked, offering a wide smile.

Rick’s smirk deepened. God, you were cute when you were being playful. “Hmm, not really. I actually think it’s kinda… hot, you know?” He murmured, his voice going slightly lower. “I like a girl with some bark and bite.”

“Hot huh?” you asked with a widening smile, your fingers tapped against your coffee cup. “Glad I can aim to please.” You shifted in your chair and your mind began to wander.

“Oh, you’re good at aiming in all the right ways, sweetheart,” he hummed.

The way you bit your lip to try and reign yourself in only made you wish his teeth were doing the biting… “Guess I am. Maybe it’s just being in a completely different place, being on vacation, but I’m normally not this bold.”

His smile softened a bit, now wearing a more genuine look on his face as you spoke. “Yeah? Is that so? Well, looks like I’m getting special treatment here, huh?”

“You definitely are,” you assured him, taking another sip of your coffee.

He was still impressed that you were giving him the time of day. Him. A man nearly twice your age. He shook his head a bit, taking another slow drink from his own coffee. “You’re definitely something else, sweetheart,” he said low and gravelly.

Your head tilted slightly as you looked over at him. “And what does that mean?” You asked playfully.

“It means I’m surprised that you’re giving a guy like me the time of day.”

“Well, there’s something about you I like, something charming and alluring. You’re quite handsome, and funny, too.” You leaned back in your chair and rolled your shoulders a little, making sure they didn’t tense up.

You were just handing out all the compliments, weren’t you? He couldn’t help it as his grin returned, his head tilting slightly as he stared at you from beneath his sunglasses. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.”

“I’m not trying to flatter you, Rick,” you said with a more serious tone. “I’m being dead honest.”

“Well, I find that hard to believe. A pretty young thing like you, giving compliments to a man in his 50s…” He shook his head slightly, eyeing you skeptically.

Your smile dropped slightly and your gaze turned gentle as you turned your body to face him more. “I mean it, Rick, seriously. There’s something about you and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m really just… drawn to you. I was excited to see you today.”

Rick felt his chest tighten slightly as your expression shifted, and the way you looked at him, your words causing him to feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long while… desired. Wanted. The way you spoke to him, it wasn’t out of pity, it wasn’t out of other intentions. You were genuine.

“You were excited to see me? Why? I was half drunk when you met me, wallowing in self-pity.”

You heard the heartbreak in his voice as he doubted himself more than anything, which meant pushing that self-doubt onto you. You had a suspicious feeling that he was much like you in that regard; pushing others away to avoid any pain you could experience from disappointment. “Well, I enjoyed talking to you last night, and I wanted to talk to you again once you weren’t inebriated.”

His expression softened as he looked at your face, your eyes conveying the truth that he was afraid to allow himself to believe. He was still doubtful, but for some idiotic reason, he chose to believe you. What reason would you have to lie, anyway?

“So you just… enjoy talking to me? You wanna start your day talking to me, this early in the morning?” He chuckled softly at his questions, wishing he could give himself an answer.

“Well,” you began with a soft smile, “I’d talk to you all day if you allowed me to. Hell, the entire vacation, if it were up to me.” You couldn’t help the flirtatious tone that took over when you spoke to him, just wanting him to know how much you enjoyed being around him despite not being around him much in the first place.

He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that you were really interested in him when he was drunk and somber, still wanting to get to know him now that he was sober, but he wouldn’t complain too much. He smiled wide again as he leaned over slightly in his chair toward you. “Oh really? You wanna spend all day with me?”

“Only if you want to,” you replied softly, sipping the remains of your drink. “I don’t have much planned but sitting by the pool, maybe some yoga, all that fun stuff. If you wanna be stuck with me at any point, you know where my room is.”

Rick studied you for a moment, still in a state of disbelief, but he couldn’t say no. Not when you were offering. “You know what? Sounds good, sweetheart. I don’t really got much going on today, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend my day with than a pretty girl like you,” he said confidently.

“Well, I guess it’s a date,” you said with a wink, looking over at him with soft eyes. “So, besides me making sure you don’t dehydrate, what did you wanna do today then?”

A date. God, he couldn’t stop that damn smile from creeping onto his face. “I dunno,” he said, placing his now empty coffee cup off to the side. “Maybe… a swim?”

“I’d love to,” you replied sweetly. “Your head feeling up to it?” you asked.

Rick chuckled softly. “It’s a bit better, the coffee definitely helped. And staring at a pretty girl makes me feel a lot better, too.”

You laughed and shook your head, pushing his arm gently out of playfulness. “Flirt,” you said with a scoff.

Rick’s smile widened as your hand touched him, pushing him in a playful manner, but he caught your wrist and held it gently. “What can I say? You’re very easy to flirt with,” he replied, his eyes locked on yours.

Your eyes flickered from his hand around your wrist back to his face. “Glad I make it easy for you,” you hummed. “Come on, let’s swim, then.” You pushed yourself from the chair and stood up, shrugging out of the sheer wrap you wore over your swimsuit, and dropped it onto the chair.

As gracefully as you could, you walked over toward the edge of the pool and dove in, splashing the water as you swam around and resurfaced, whipping your hair back as you wiped the water from your eyes. “Come on in, Rick!” You called playfully.

Rick’s jaw tensed as you ditched the wrap, checking your body out immediately, his eyes gazing over the way the swimsuit hugged you in all the right places. He needed to jump into the cold water sooner rather than later with the thoughts that were going through his mind. He cleared his throat as he shrugged out of his button-up after making quick work of the buttons. After a few moments, he jumped into the pool after you, breaking the surface a moment later as he shook his wet hair out.

You watched as he removed his shirt, jumped in, and shook his hair out. You felt that you were no better than a man with the way you eyed him, the thoughts slowly forming in your mind of how badly you wanted him.

Rick’s gaze locked with yours as he shook his head, the water dripping down his face while he ran his fingers through his wet hair. He smirked as he saw the look on your face. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

You wish you could come up with a clever quip or a playful remark, but you just chewed on your bottom lip as you attempted to hide the smile on your face or the obvious blush on your cheeks. “I think I do,” you said simply.

Rick’s smile widened as his eyes flickered to your teeth biting at your lip, taking notice of the look in your eyes, the desire, the heat… He liked it. He swam up to you, getting a little closer to attempt to close the distance. “Oh, really now?” He hummed.

Your hands waded through the water, and your feet kicked, gently propelling your body closer to his. “Oh, definitely,” you replied, your voice slightly softer.

“You know, sweetheart… that swimsuit looks real good on you,” he said, his voice straining slightly.

“Does it?” You asked sweetly, trying to maintain that bit of innocence.

Rick scoffed slightly at your attempt to feign innocence, you knew how you affected him, you had to. “You have no idea,” he replied, his voice low. He was fighting to keep his thoughts clean as he stared at you, feeling his self-control teetering on the edge.

As you swam closer, an impulsive thought popped into your head, so you smiled wide as you suddenly dunked him under the water before you swam off, laughing playfully.

Rick let out a small yelp as you surprised him, catching him completely off-guard. When he resurfaced, he sputtered and spat out water, turning to face you as he wiped his eyes to see you giggling as you were halfway across the pool. He shook his head, his hair plastered to his face. “Oh, playing dirty, are we?” he called out playfully. “Cheater.” He slowly started to swim toward you, keeping his eyes on you.

You just smiled wider and swam a bit further away, trying to play this game with him as you tested the waters. “Looks like you needed to cool off, hot shot,” you laughed and rested your back against the edge.

Rick couldn’t help but laugh as you pushed off the edge and swam around him, circling him as your playful demeanor kept his excitement going. “You sure about that?” He asked with that smile still plastered on his face, his eyes following you as you made another lap around him. “I think you’re a cheater and you like testin’ the rules.”

“Only if it gets a certain cute guy to let loose a little bit,” you replied as you slowed your movements, floating a couple of feet away from him.

He was starting to feel like he was a teen all over again, getting flustered by a pretty girl as you flirted back and forth. It was nice though, he couldn’t deny that, so he swam just a little closer. “What makes you think I’m not loosened up?”

“Come on, you’re so somber, so serious. You’re in Thailand, Rick, you gotta let loose!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll try and lighten up a little… But only on one condition.”

You swam up a little closer to him, still keeping some distance as you eyed him suspiciously.”Oh yeah? And what’s that?” You asked him, curious as to what he had in mind.

“You gotta promise you’ll make sure I have fun, I trust I’m in capable hands,” he replied, his voice softer now. His gaze flickered over your form beneath the water as he could feel the heat within him rising.

“Are you checking me out?”

“Yes, of course I am,” he said without hesitation. “Can you blame me? Pretty girl like you swimming with me? Gotta be honest with you, sweetheart, you’re making it really difficult for me to control myself.”

“Don’t worry, I was sneaking some looks of my own, so I won’t complain about a hot guy checking me out, won’t I?” you asked with a wink as you allowed your body to float toward him, getting even closer.

You were flirty, playful, and so god damned cute, Rick couldn’t help but chase after you as you presented yourself like this to him. He couldn’t help but close the distance between you both, stopping just a few inches from you. “I guess not,” he chuckled, his hand reached out and gently traced his fingertips along your side. “You’re making me think things I probably shouldn’t…”

“Like what?” you asked, wondering how much he’d divulge.

“You really wanna know? Well, I could tell you, but you gotta promise not to think I’m some kind of creep, alright?”

You laughed softly and allowed your body to float right up to his, pressing against him as you stared up, trying to control your own desire. “I wouldn’t think that,” you replied gently.

His hand slipped a bit further down your waist, almost reaching your hip. He swallowed hard and nearly felt a slight bit of panic, wondering if you’d meant that you wouldn’t think less of him. “Well, the things I’m thinking about right now ain’t exactly PG-rated, sweetheart…”

You smiled almost deviously as you boldly placed your hand on his arm, steadying yourself beneath the water. “Are you saying you wanna do dirty things to me, Rick?”

Rick’s eyes narrowed slightly at the very mention of it. His hand rested on your side and tightened its grip only a little while he looked down at you, reading your expressions while he spoke. “Maybe,” he replied, his voice dropping slightly. “I’m saying that I’m having a hard time taking my eyes off you or keeping my hands to myself right now. I want you sweetheart, want you so bad that it hurts…” His hand slipped even lower, resting on your lower back as he pulled you in closer.

“And you’re okay with wanting me? Us being strangers and all?” You asked, your tone almost teasing him, but you didn’t shy away from the idea, you seemed even more interested.

Rick stared down at you with a clenched jaw, wondering if you’d change your mind. But as he looked at you, the desire in your eyes was clear. “To be honest, I don’t care,” he admitted. “Something about you just pulls me in, and I just… I want you and I don’t care about anything else right now.” He moved even closer, his body pressed against yours while you both stood in the center of the pool.

You swallowed hard at his words, and that’s when it clicked in your mind, you wanted to abandon all thought and just go with how your body was feeling. “Rick, if I kiss you, if I say fuck it and just… do this, I already know I’m not going to want to let you go this entire week…” you confessed, your tone soft so only he could hear.

Rick’s breath hitched as you spoke, your words only fueling the growing fire he felt within him. “I won’t lie, sweetheart, but I don’t think I’m lettin’ go once I’ve had you,” he admitted, the smirk on his face growing.

“Rick…” you said softly, shivering beneath the water as his hand slipped against your lower back.

“Yeah?”

You smiled and let out a small laugh. “We may not wanna do this in the public pool…” you mentioned, feeling the tension between you two growing exponentially.

He raised his head and looked around, seeing a couple of people here and there beginning to filter into the pool area, and their display had been drawing a little bit of attention. “You might be right,” he said softly, chuckling. “Let’s get out of here, then. Somewhere private.”

“Wanna head back to my room?” You offered, looking over at the few people who had been watching them curiously.

Rick nodded. “Yeah, let’s get our stuff and get out of here. I can’t wait much longer.”

Once you stopped, you pulled your key card from your bag and pushed the door open, welcoming Rick in while you stepped aside. “Make yourself comfortable,” you said softly as you closed the door and placed your bag down. “I’m gonna shower off the pool water quick, okay? You’re more than welcome to join me…” You offered with a gentle tone, smiling over at him with desire.

Rick’s heartbeat picked up at your invitation, wondering just how far you were intending to go here. He wasn’t sure if this was real or if this was actually happening, but all he could think about was your naked body beneath the spray of water. He stepped closer as you led him toward the bathroom, curious if he’d follow.

“You don’t know how much I’d love to join you,” he hummed, his hand reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, his thumb running over your lower lip.

“Then come on,” you replied tenderly, your hand falling to his wrist as you gave it a gentle tug. “I promise I don’t bite unless you prefer me to,” you teased, giving him a playful wink.

Rick chuckled softly at your teasing, his eyes sparkling with arousal as he stepped closer, his hand wrapping around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. He couldn’t believe you were real, let alone here with him in your room. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind if you bit me, in fact, I think I’d rather like it.”

“Oh, Rick, are you into some kinky stuff?” you asked with a playful tone, pulling him closer toward the bathroom as your hands rested against his waist.

“You have no idea,” he said in a low tone, his breath straining slightly as he walked her backward into the bathroom. “There’s so much about me you don’t know, sweetheart. But I could show you, if you’re interested, of course,” he said as he leaned his face closer, his breath hot against your skin.

With a soft sigh, your hands gently caressed the dips and curves of his sides, wanting to explore him just a little as you stood there together, soaking wet from the pool. “I’d like to find out, yes,” you replied. “I like a little mystery, but I am fairly curious.”

“Ask me anything you want, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper while his hand continued to ghost along your jawline. “I have no secrets from you tonight.”

“Just tonight?” you asked playfully, pushing for answers.

Rick chuckled softly at your playful jab, a smirk forming across his face. “Maybe more than just tonight. If you play your cards right.” His smile softened as he pulled you closer while he pressed against you, your body now leaning against the bathroom sink as your hands rested on the edge of the counter.

You were taken with him and rightfully so, he was a breath of fresh air, and you had never met a man so captivating. “Alright then, last name?” you asked with a flirtatious tone.

His smile widened as you asked, realizing you knew less about him than he thought. “Hatchett,” he answered softly, “my last name is Hatchett.”

“Mhm, very sexy and mysterious, very fitting for you, I think.”

Rick tried to play it cool, but here you were, feeding his ego yet again, his heart skipping a beat. No one had called him sexy in a while and had meant it, and he couldn’t deny the thrill he got from it. You didn’t know him, you didn’t know about his money, you just knew him for him. It was a feeling he hadn’t been comfortable finding, it meant much deeper things to think about.

“So then, Rick Hatchett,” you began as you tested his full name, “if I were to sleep with you today, how likely would it be that I see you again?” You asked, your expression soft and thoughtful.

The question threw him off guard and he had almost let his cool composure slip, the thought of you wanting to see him more after this was almost too much. “I’d say there’s a pretty good chance you’ll see me again, and not just because we’re stayin’ in the same resort.”

There was a hesitation, a skepticism you couldn’t help but latch onto despite what he was telling you. “You promise? I’ve had guys ghost me plenty, pretending they don’t know me, pretending nothing happened…”

Rick’s heart sank at the mere thought of it, and it only fueled the desire for him to be the opposite, to show you he was serious. “I promise, sweetheart, I don’t have any intention of doing that. I won’t pretend I don’t know you, and I won’t leave without saying goodbye.” He reached up and gently ran his large hand against your cheek, pushing the strands of hair back and behind your ear.

“That’s what I’m afraid of in all of this, you know, when it’s time to leave the resort...” How could you admit that you felt something for this man already, you had this connection that you sensed, and maybe he did, too. But you were delusional if you thought anything serious would come of this, you shouldn't complicate it further, take it as what it was: fun on a vacation.

“I know,” he whispered as his other hand was light and teasing against your hip. “But we still have tonight, sweetheart. Let’s not worry about tomorrow, okay? Let’s just focus on right now.” He couldn’t think about that, he couldn’t dwell on the what-ifs, or else it would drive him mad.

“What if I want more than just tonight…?”

Rick’s breath caught as the sincerity in your words had struck a chord with him, he hadn’t been expecting some fling to turn into something so serious so quickly, and hell, it hadn’t even been a fling yet. “Then you’ll have me, for as long as you want it, sweetheart,” he murmured.

With your emotions and desires running high, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, your hands resting gently on his chest as you took the leap and kissed him. He couldn’t resist you any longer, so he wrapped his arm around your waist as his other hand tangled in your wet hair. His kiss was passionate yet needy, something under all of that built-up desire finally burst forth.

You were so taken aback by the urgency in his actions that you couldn’t stop the moan that vibrated against his lips, your arms pulling him further against you as his body pressed into yours, pushing you into the counter of the sink. His body responded immediately to your touch, molding against yours while he instinctively slid his hands from you and grabbed the back of your thighs, lifting you onto the sink while his lips remained against yours. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipped into your mouth as his urgency only grew while his hands rested gently against your waist, his touch light and yet possessive.

When he pulled away from your mouth, he licked his lips while his hand reached around you, his fingers gently skimming along your neck to your shoulders. Your arms reached back and slowly untied the halter of your swim top, allowing the pieces to slowly fall against your chest. Your eyes were locked on his face while he suddenly watched with intense interest, his hands coming up to gently pull down your swim top, revealing your breasts to him. This was the most you’d been exposed to anyone in a bit, but the way Rick had been looking at you made you feel like a work of art. He slowly brought his hands to cup them gently, brushing the pads of his thumbs against your nipples, watching how your body reacted to his touch.

Rick leaned down and placed his mouth over your breast, rolling his tongue around gently in his mouth while he stroked your other one, kneading your flesh as he listened to the sweet sounds you made. Your soft sighs and stifled moans only fueled him to continue, wanting to pull louder and sweeter sounds from your throat. After switching to your other breast and lavishing it with attention, he pulled away and continued to look at you in awe, taking in every curve and swell of your chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his tone low and gentle. “So goddamned beautiful.”

Your eyes were glued to his face as you watched his expressions, the way he swallowed your body with his gaze only made the desire you felt grow tenfold. You pulled off the top half of your swimsuit and discarded it on the floor, smiling nervously up at him, feeling rather vulnerable as he held you between his legs on the sink. “Your turn,” you replied.

Rick’s breath hitched as you fully removed the top half of your suit, revealing more of your skin to him, and he took in every inch of it. “You sure you want me to join you?”

“Of course, I do,” you hummed, “I’d be more disappointed if you didn’t. Why, feeling shy?” Your teasing was gentle, not wanting to scare him away.

“I just… I can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled as his hands went back to caressing your breasts, gently rolling your nipples between his fingers.

“Mhm, come on then, Rick, ditch the clothes and join me.” You pushed against him, causing him to release your chest, and you hopped down from the counter, walking toward the shower as you discarded the bottom half of your suit.

He couldn’t resist your request, he had to get in there with you, so he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it off to the side, sliding out of his soaked shorts and kicked off his sandals. His eyes watched as you ran the water and stepped into the shower, following close behind. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” He hummed as he stepped closer toward you, his bare body now fully in view.

You bit your lip as your eyes flickered down to his body, widening slightly as you stepped back to make more room for him. He was everything and more to what you were expecting and yet he easily surpassed it. “Can’t help it,” you said simply.

He couldn’t hide the smirk on his face as he watched your expression, taking in the sight of him as you were both suddenly bare to each other. He stepped closer to you under the spray of water, his body pressed against yours. The warmth of your skin against his under the cool water caused Rick to shiver.

“I like that about you,” he pointed out, his hands now placed gently on your shoulders. “Naughty girls are my favorite.”

“Mhm, I bet they are, you seem to like the younger, naughty ones, I take it.” You delighted in teasing him, it was always well-received, and this moment was no different. You reached over and grabbed one of the bars of soap, lathering it against his arms, not waiting for another word.

The feel of your hands on his skin was already sending him into a frenzy, and he watched as you seemed to get lost in the way you watched the soap lather against his skin, his muscles flexing every so often as you glide the bar across him. The way your face looked to him was almost sinful, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a gentle moan. “You have no idea. God, sweetheart, you’re killin’ me… I want you so bad…”

You tapped his shoulder as a way to tell him to spin around, his back now to you as your hands glide across his shoulders, his back, and his waist. The feeling of how gentle you were and the warmth of your hands was both soothing and arousing. He was becoming more turned on by the second, and if he were to turn around, he’d have a hell of a time hiding the hard-on he now displayed.

Rick’s breath ceased for a moment as your hands dipped lower against his back, your touch sent shivers up his spine as he moaned softly again, his head falling forward as your hands continued to wash him clean. He was quickly losing control, your innocent yet seductive touch driving him to the brink. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, his voice ragged with need.

You became bold as your arms were now wrapped around his stomach, scrubbing the bar of soap against him, feeling the way his abs contracted beneath your touch. Your hands slowly slid down across his v line and you couldn’t help but release a strained sigh.

He let out a gasp as you moved the soap down to his stomach, his abs clenched at your touch and his whole body felt as if it were on fire. “Sweetheart, if you keep going like that, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you right here,” he warned.

“Guess that means I’ll have to keep going,” you said with a wide smile, rubbing the soap against him just a little firmly, slowly making your way lower.

Rick didn’t need any more of an invitation than that. With a low growl in his throat, he spun around and pressed her firmly against the tiled wall, his chest pressed against yours as the water cascaded over them both. His hands moved to your hips, holding you in place as he leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss.

You moaned against his mouth as he caught you slightly off guard, but you regained yourself and pressed back against his lips with the same amount of passion he’d given you. Carelessly, you tossed the soap somewhere off to the side so you wouldn’t slip, then wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him closer, feeling the cold contrast of the tile against your back as the warmth of his body pressed against your front.

Rick’s mind was consumed with you, the feeling of your body against his was almost too much to bear. His hands roamed all over every inch of you, his touch both gentle and explorative while his grip would tighten on a part of you here and there, almost possessively. He broke the kiss, his lips now trailing down from your jaw to your neck as he murmured against your skin.

“You’re driving me wild, sweetheart,” he groaned softly, lifting his gaze to meet yours. “You don’t know the effect you’re having on me, the way you’re making me feel. And I plan on showing you.”

“Are you planning on taking me right in this shower?” you asked suddenly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips, only to take his bottom lip between your teeth. “Or are you just talking big?”

Rick’s control snapped at your words, his desire for you taking over any rational thought as he pushed you against the wall firmly. “You’re right, I was trying to take things slow, but you’re not making it easy.

You lifted your leg around his waist, pulling him in as you could feel him pressing against you, his cock pressing firmly against your inner thigh, so close to where you desired him. He groaned at the feeling, his body responding on instinct as he gripped your leg, pulling you closer as he pressed firmly against you.

“Rick, please,” you begged, whimpering almost pathetically, “I need you…”

He scoffed softly and teased both himself and you as he gently rolled his hips against you, letting out a hoarse groan. “Need you too,” he growled. “Right now.” He finally gripped your hips tightly, his fingers dug into your skin as he lifted you with ease as he positioned himself between your legs. Rick notched the head of his cock at your entrance, his body surging forward as he pressed into you.

You were unable to hold back the unholy groan that spilled from your mouth as you rolled your hips to meet his, your head leaned back against the tile as you tried to catch your bearings. “Jesus Christ, Rick,” you whined. Your nails dug into his arms as you held onto him for stability and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He was so careful and yet set such a pace to where he fucks in and out of you deeply. You were losing yourself and quickly in him.

“Sweetheart,” he moaned, “you feel so fuckin’ perfect.” His hips moved with purpose and need, one hand gripping your hip firmly while the other was wrapped around your thigh as he spread you just enough to fuck into you. With each deep, calculated thrust, his body responded effortlessly to yours, wanting and needing more of you. His lips found your neck, sucking and nipping at the flesh that was presented to him.

He quickened his pace, his movements becoming desperate as he continued to claim you, feeling his own body growing hungry for its release. Becoming lost in the feeling of you, of how tight you were, and of how heavenly you felt, Rick’s hand slid up from your hip, casually making its way up across your chest and gripping around your throat as he pulled you in to kiss you.

“Oh God, Rick,” you moaned against his mouth, sloppily kissing him back as if you were at his mercy. “Please, keep going, please–”

“You don’t have to beg, sweetheart,” he groaned against your lips, his body moving yours with increasing need and urgency. “You want me, I’m here, I’m yours.” He continued to rock his hips against yours, hearing the slap of skin against skin above the sounds of the spray of water as he couldn’t get enough of how you felt clenching around his cock.

Your body began to tense up and he could feel it too, your sounds growing louder with each deep thrust, and he was determined to push you over the edge to hear you meet your end. “Come for me,” he murmured against your lips, pulling them down to kiss the side of your jaw. “Let go, I need to feel you.”

You groaned at his request, rolling your hips to attempt to meet his thrusts while your body was tensing with each passing minute, but you were so close, feeling the coil within your belly ready to snap at any moment. The way he spoke, his voice low and ragged, God, he sounded so sexy. You pulled his face back to yours and kissed him sloppily, your tongue pushing its way into his mouth.

Rick groaned into your mouth, your actions and the way you moved against him had left him feeling overwhelmed, but he wanted to give you what you needed. His fingers dug harder into your thigh, holding you there as he fucked into you, your back hitting the tile with wreckless intensity, but neither of you minded. He pulled your hips closer against his, his body moving against yours with more urgency. He was desperate for you, every fiber of your being consumed by his need for you.

“You taste like sin,” he panted against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip and pulling it with his teeth.

“Keep going, please Rick, getting close–” you moaned, resting your forehead against his as you caught small glimpses of his cock slamming into you.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he hummed. “I’ll always give you what you need.” With that, he kissed you deep, claiming your mouth with a need that was almost feral.

“Close–” you mumbled again.

Rick could feel your body trembling against his, the way you moved, the way you sounded, and he knew you were close to the edge. He was close too, the feel of you, he was teetering on his own edge. “Come for me, right now,” he urged, the strain almost too much as he tried to hold back how own orgasm just to make sure you came.

Within seconds of his demand, your body snapped from being wound up so tightly, your head thrown back as much as you could as you cried out his name, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Your muscles shook and your entire body now felt weak beneath his grasp.

As soon as your body tensed and he felt your pussy clench against him, pulling him in, he fell over the edge alongside you, his body shaking with the intensity of his own release. He held you up against the shower wall, allowing you both to ride out your highs, his body now trembling as he attempted to regain composure.

You panted heavily, resting your head against his shoulder as he held you in place. “Oh god, that was…amazing,” you said softly, rolling your head slightly against his as your arms wrapped gently around him. You could have stayed like this for longer if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly.

Rick let out a deep breath as he stroked your wet hair, trying to catch his own breath. “Amazing doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he replied with a small breathy laugh. He leaned down slightly and placed a kiss on the top of your head before slowly, somewhat reluctantly, pulling away from you.

“Maybe we should actually wash off this time,” you teased with a playful smirk, grabbing the soap from the floor and beginning to wash yourself from the mess you both made.

Rick chuckled softly as he watched you clean yourself, his gaze softened as he came down from his high, now staring at you in a way that could be mistaken as smitten. “Probably a good idea,” he hummed, taking another moment to admire the way the water cascaded down your body, the way you moved, the way you would look up at him. “Keep looking at me like that and I'll have a difficult time keeping my hands to myself.”

“The feeling is mutual, but I shouldn't tempt you further until we're out of the shower,” you teased and handed him the soap, stepping out of the shower.

“Good, you're too distracting,” Rick teased as he grabbed the soap from you, cleaning himself off as quickly as possible to join you.

“You're the distracting one,” you replied as you wrapped around towel around you, then smiled and gave him a little wave as you walked out and went to the bed, sitting on the edge as you waited for him.

Rick turned off the water and quickly dried himself with a spare towel, the image of you sitting on the bed, wrapped only in a towel fueling him to finish up. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before walking into the bedroom to join you. His eyes immediately found you, looking so happy as you greeted him with a soft smile.

You patted the spot next to you and smiled softly, looking up at him as he looked so damn wonderful with the way his hair clung to his face, or the way he stood there in the doorway just looking at you. He made his way over to the bed, his eyes locked on yours the entire time as he sat beside you, his body almost involuntarily moving closer as though drawn like a magnet. The smell of the soap on your skin, the lingering taste of your lips on his, he couldn’t help but lean in and brush his thumb against your hair, pushing it from your face.

“You’re irresistible, you know that?” He asked softly, his eyes taking in the little details of your face.

Your smile widened as you leaned in slightly into the touch of his hand, almost hesitant. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” you replied with a soft laugh, scooting closer to him as your legs touched. “I have a bad feeling I’m going to be addicted to you by the end of this trip.” You couldn’t help but laugh at how odd it sounded out loud, but you felt that it was right.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he teased, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, his fingers gently skating across your skin. “I have a feeling you’re already addicted, sweetheart.”

You let out a playful chuckle and shrugged nonchalantly, shrugging off the realness of his observation. “Mhm, you know me too well already, but it’s not a bad thing. Only bad thing about it is when this trip is over…” you trailed off, your voice fading out as you realzied that not being able to see him after this was more painful than you’d realized.

Rick felt the mood shift slightly at the mention of the trip ending, and he knew it was inevitable, but the thought of leaving you now after being able to touch you, to hold you, it was gut wrenching. The connection he’d felt with you, and not spurred on by you wanting him for his money, no, you wanted him. He didn’t want to lose that.

He sighed softly, his hand coming to a pause on your thigh. “Let’s not think about that right now,” he said softly. “Let’s just enjoy what time we have together.”

“But what if… I want more than that? I don’t want to let this go, Rick,” you said sternly, slipping your hand over his.

He spent the last few hours convincing himself that this was a fling, a vacation fling, but hearing you say that you didn’t want to let this go, it forced him to come to terms with things he wasn’t prepared to feel. He took a deep breath as his fingers laced with yours, squeezing gently. “Sweetheart…” he said gently, his voice trailing off. “What are you trying to say?”

You sat up straighter, your hand gripped his as you looked him in the eyes and just stared at him for a moment. You wanted to read his expression clearly, see if what yo usaid next would have the effect you wanted. “What I’m saying is I don’t want this to end, Rick. The vacation will end, sure, but this, whatever we have between us, I don’t want it as just a fling.”

Rick tried to keep himself in check, he didn’t want to become too involved, yet heaning you say you didn’t want this to end was too much to resist. He’d felt empty when he got here, and yet your smile and your kindness had made him feel something other than the hollow hole in his chest. It wasn’t a significant change right away, but he’d felt happier than he had in a long while. “Are… are you sure? I don’t wanna get ahead of myself here, but this–” he gestured between you both– “I wanna keep that, too.”

“Of course, I’m sure,” you said with a gentle smile. “So I wanna keep this, no matter where we live, I’ll go to you, I don’t care. I want to make this happen.” You brought his hand up to your mouth and placed a gentle kiss against his knuckles, your eyes never leaving his.

He felt his chest tighten as he listened to your heartfelt words, feeling your sincerity, the desperation in your voice to keep this, and he knew then that he’d fight for it, too. His thumb stroked your hand as he offered a smile. “I don’t care about the distance or where we live, as long as we can make this work. If you’re willing.”

You smiled wide and suddenly lifted yourself up, throwing your leg over his lap as you made yourself comfortable as you sat nestled against him. Your hands were on either side of his face as you pulled him into a passionate kiss. When you pulled away from him, your thumb gently brushed against his cheek, his stubble tickling your skin.

“Then let’s make it happen, yeah?”

His hands instinctively came to rest on your hips as your lips met, kissing you back with that strained desperation he fought against, wanting to keep his cool. He was completely lost in you, intoxicated by the feeling of your body, the emotions you forced him to face, and the way your breath mingled with his. Pulling away for a moment, he stared up at you, his gaze soft and inviting as his eyes flickered across every little detail.

“Absolutely, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, resting his forehead against yours as he let out a heavy sigh. Somewhere deep down, he felt that maybe everything would be alright, and he was grateful that he ever visited the White Lotus.

#tinalbion writings #Rick Hatchett #Rick Hatchett The White Lotus #The White Lotus #The White Lotus season 3 #Rick Hatchett imagine #Rick Hatchett oneshot #Rick Hatchett headcanons #Rick Hatchett x you #Rick Hatchett x reader #afab!reader #no use of y/n #Rick Hatchett fanfiction #angst #smut #divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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ddlydevotion · 4 months ago

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obsessive! Rick Hatchett x fem reader hcs...

warnings: sexual content + toxicity ahead

currently listening to: black beauty by lana del rey

- He absolutely despises seeing you cry. It gives him a sense of hopelessness that he’s only felt very few times in his life. It makes his blood boil to even think about the fact that your sadness was caused by someone else’s inconsiderate actions. Not only does it give him an intense wave of sadness to see you like that, but it also makes him overwhelmingly angry. He’s done some horrible things that he deems as unforgivable but he wouldn’t feel the slightest ounce of guilt for inflicting pain on the people who’ve harmed you.

- he did it for a good cause. he did it for you. Why the hell would he feel guilty?

- Rick does everything in his power to keep that pretty smile of yours gleaming towards the sky. It makes him happy to see you enjoying yourself. It makes him even happier realizing that he’s the reason you’re smiling and laughing with little restraint. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t enjoy whatever activity he’s taking you to, he’ll endure it just for you. He’ll try to come off as casual during the whole ordeal and act as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. You know him well enough to acknowledge the fact that he’s simply putting on an act as an attempt to hide his bashfulness caused by the compliments you shoot his way.

- most likely calls you a shortened/alternated version of your name as a term of endearment. I can also see him calling you ‘sweetheart’ or even ‘baby’.

- Rick is a damaged man, or so he says. You don’t seem to agree but that doesn’t stop him from labeling himself as such. He sees you as the savior of his soul, and it didn’t take him long after meeting you to start feeling so strongly. He doesn’t feel as broken when he’s around you. He feels as if he can finally allow himself to let loose, and relax. Rick sometimes has to remind himself that he’s safe in your presence and that he doesn’t have to remain in the defensive mindset he found himself in since childhood. You give him the sense of peace and security that he’s found himself yearning for.

- The mere thought of another man experiencing your love and affection makes him feel a murderous sense of rage. He may debate whether or not he’s actually worthy of your love, but you never fail to remind him that he is. You constantly reassure him and calm his flaring jealousy, but that doesn’t stop him from making the fact that you’re his incredibly clear when the two of you are in public. He hates the thought of someone thinking even for a second that you’re single.

- you can feel his possessiveness when he fucks you. His possessiveness isn’t fueled by anger but more so a fear of you leaving him for “better” . When the two of you are in bed together, he caresses you as if you’re capable of disappearing at any second. He looks at you as if he’s trying to tattoo your face on the back of his eyelids. Deep down he knows that you’re not going anywhere by the amount of times that you remind him he’s all you want. However, that doesn’t stop him from bending your body into all sorts of positions when he’s fucking you as a reminder that he’s the only one who could ever make you feel this good. No one could ever know your body as well as he does.

- it doesn’t matter how long the two of you have been together, he’s still going to fuck you as if he’s about to lose you. He is relentless.

- proposes to you much earlier than most people would deem as ‘appropriate’. He knows exactly what he wants and that’s you. He doesn’t see the point in waiting an unnecessarily long time to propose. Rick has his mind & eyes set on you and that fact will never change.

- The quote “A lovely lady and a grumpy man lives here” describes the two of you perfectly.

- Rick can be quite grumpy at times but he tries his absolute hardest to not act in such a manner towards you. His intimidating demeanor comes in handy when it’s time to “scare” people he deems as irritating away. He spots someone getting a bit too close to you for his liking? Well, now it’s time for him to come off as incredibly dry/ disinterested in the conversation in order to make the other person uncomfortable enough to leave. He’ ll make it very clear that he doesn’t appreciate their presence.

- He isn’t a huge fan of excessive pda. he loves to have your hand in his, have his hand on the small of your back/settled within your back pocket, having an arm wrapped around your waist, a strong hand on your thigh while driving.

- if you also enjoy smoking weed then he’d love to lay back and enjoy his high with you.

I’ll most likely make a part two to this post 💌! Hope you enjoyed + requests are open.

#x fem!reader #x female reader #x female y/n #obsessive love #yandere #walton goggins x reader #walton goggins #Walton Goggins x female reader #rick hatchett fanfic #rick hatchett imagine #rick hatchett x reader #rick hatchett #white lotus x reader #white lotus x fem reader #yan blog #obsessive yandere #yandere male x reader #male yandere #yandere male

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grenadehearts · 3 months ago

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whiny shameful izuku..

Izuku wasn’t supposed to think like this. Not about you. Not when you looked at him so sweetly—like he’d hung the stars, like he was everything good in the world. As if he were the lace that wrapped around you, made you whole. As if he was everything there was to cherish in life.

But shame had always clung to him like a second skin. And yet, there he was—palming his cock through his All Might boxers in the quiet dark of the bathroom, breath shallow, mind racing with thoughts too filthy to ever say out loud.

He didn’t deserve to touch himself to you. Not to your smile, not to your soft, pretty face. You were too fucking beautiful. Too kind. Too good for his selfish, disgusting pitiful desires.

But the ache in his pants was unbearable.

Every kiss—whether lazy and unhurried, all sighs and wandering hands, or a peck so quick his lips barely registered it—left him breathless, because his cock always knew, which made him painfully hard. And every time, he’d excuse himself with a red face and a strained laugh, locking himself away where he could be alone with his guilt and his need.

He would press his palm to the outline of his cock, feeling it pulse and twitch under the thin fabric of his boxers. Just a little pressure, just enough to imagine your hand there instead—your soft, polished fingertips dragging slow strokes along the clothed length, teasing the damp spot at the tip.

It never lasted long.

With a breathy, broken whimper, Izuku would give in, tugging down the waistband to release his cock with a quiet, needy sigh. Thick and flushed, it sprang free—pale skin stretched around swollen veins, the tip glistening with precum. He wrapped his fingers around the base and squeezed, like he could stop the shame from rising along with the heat.

“F-fuck…” he hissed, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own shallow breaths. “I’m sorry… I’m such a bad boyfriend…”

But even as he whispered apologies, his hand moved—slow, shaky strokes up his aching length, thumb swiping over the sensitive tip, gathering the sticky slickness and smearing it in soothing circles.

“Y/n,” he moaned, the sound breaking around the edges. “So pretty… I don’t deserve you…”

The guilt never left. But neither did the desire. Not when he imagined your pink lips wrapping around his cock, your eyes soft and teasing, your warm breath brushing against him as you took him in so slowly, so sweetly.

And when he finally came with a bitten-off cry, that was in every way jagged like, nails on a chalkboard. thighs trembling and hand slick with release, he crumpled forward, pressing his forehead against the cold tile wall, still murmuring breathless apologies into the empty room.

masterlist link here.

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lotus-pear · 1 year ago

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lore accurate teen soukoku. the worsties ever

#rewatched fifteen w my bestie bc she finally reached season 3 and i forgot just how insufferable these two idiots are💀#literally calling each other slurs in one scene and then holding hands in the next #what the fuck is wrong with them /gen #anyway this accurately sums up their dynamic to me. toxic besties. gossip gals. teenage girls. whatever that dynamic is called #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #nakahara chuuya #chuuya nakahara #soukoku #skk #lotus draws #also my friend is literally insane bc she was like “chuuya n dazai are satosugu coded but if like stsg actually had BEEF w each other”#LIKE WHAT😭😭#THE ONLY THING THEY HAVE IN COMMON IS DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE YAOI #sobbing you guys shouldve seen the face i fucking made at her. i was so disappointed

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lotus-n-l0ve · 6 days ago

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CHAPTER 3

— Onychinus Leader!Sylus Qin X Mother! Female Reader

She Ran To Protect Their Child. He Built A Kingdom To Bring Them Home.・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

*⁠.⁠✧ LOTUS NOTE : Took me so long to write this chapter. Assignments burnt me out tbh 😭 Tumblr did it again. Posted without my consent. Honestly, I don't have the time to copy paste, organize and edit again so this chapter is shorter than the previous one 😮‍💨

*⁠.⁠✧— NAVIGATION // LOVE & DEEPSPACE MASTERLIST

➥ KISSED IN POISON : THE SERIES

➥ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4

➥ Heart Divider's By @/cafekitsune

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

[PRESENT TIME, LINKON CITY]

Sylus is a dog. A mad dog. It all started this morning.

He moved in — or rather, invaded — in that flashy black car of his, the engine purring loud enough to turn every head on your street. He didn’t even pretend to be subtle. No, Sylus Qin made damn sure every nosy neighbour, every early jogger, and every curtain-twitcher knew exactly who he was.

He leaned one arm on the open car door, sunglasses perched low on his nose, lips curled in that smug, territorial grin of his as he caught Mrs. Young from next door peeking through her blinds. He didn’t just unload his bags — he practically marked his territory right there on your front lawn.

You hissed under your breath, arms crossed tight over your chest, “Sylus, can you not announce it to the entire postal code?”

He just tilted his head, mouth brushing the shell of your ear.

“Sweetheart, let them know now — so they don’t get any funny ideas later.”

You could only roll your eyes. You have met five drama queens in your whole life — Sylus was four of them. The fifth one was Rafayel, Elea's arts teacher, who’d probably be next on Sylus’s hit list if he so much as smiled Elea's way again.

Ignoring your annoyance, Sylus took out a large trolley bag out of the dickie. Wanna guess the colour? The same soft pink as the Tulips he gave Elea. Of course, your that mad dog of a man — ruthless, possessive, all shadows and knives — was dragging a pastel pink suitcase up your front steps like it was just another day in paradise.

Sylus left the suitcase by the sofa, giving it a dismissive kick into place before his eyes swept over the living room — like he was already hunting for something. He pivoted back to you, brows lifted, mouth quirking in faint annoyance.

“Where’s my baby?” He asked, voice all soft and dangerous like he was about to rip the walls apart if she didn’t appear in the next breath.

“Elea already left for school.” You said, arms crossing as you braced for the dramatics.

Sylus’s eyes narrowed behind those stupidly expensive sunglasses, his head tipping to one side, “What? Elea’s school starts at 8:30. It’s barely seven.”

You blinked. Did he really memorize her entire schedule? A sigh slipped past your lips before you could swallow it down. Why am I even surprised…

“They’re doing a field day today.” You explained, flicking his forehead lightly as you stepped past him, “So she went early with the teachers.”

Sylus’s head snapped back to you so fast you almost heard something crack.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me before?” His voice dropped into that deep, accusing rumble — like you’d hidden classified intel from him instead of, you know, letting his child go play tug-of-war with her friends.

“I didn’t even get to see my baby off.” He added, his hand sweeping through his hair like the drama king he was.

You swear you could see the faintest ghost of a pout trying to form on his mouth — a pout. Sylus Qin, the infamous leader of Onychinus, the entire underworld flinched to stood in front of — looking like he was about to sulk because his daughter left before he got here.

You raised both brows at him, arms folded, “She’ll be back in a few hours, mad dog.”

Sylus’s scowl only deepened, his mouth pulling tight like he was two seconds away from tearing the front door clean off its hinges and sprinting down the street after the kindergarten bus.

“That’s not the point.” He bit out, pacing a slow, restless line behind the couch, “She cried so much last night. You know that, right? I wanted to stay so bad — if not for that rat.”

You blinked at him, folding your arms, eyebrows shooting up, “Rat?”

“Nothing.” He said, voice clipped. Then, just like that, he cut his eyes to you — and the switch flipped, all that snarling protective edge slipping into something smug, dangerous, annoyingly charming.

“Anyway.” He drawled, stepping closer, crowding your space like he always did when he wanted to win an argument by sheer proximity, “What's for breakfast?”

You blinked up at him, “Excuse me?”

Sylus’s eyes glinted — that wolfish tilt of his lips said he was already three steps ahead of whatever protest you were about to make. He leaned in, one arm braced on the back of the couch behind you, boxing you in like he owned the air you were breathing.

“Breakfast.” He repeated, voice low and warm, like he was making you an indecent offer instead of a perfectly normal question, “You know — the meal a devoted wife makes for her hardworking man?”

You snorted, “Devoted wife? In what twisted fantasy are you living, Sylus?”

He just hummed, nose brushing your temple, “The one where you feed me before I starve to death in your kitchen. Or… are you offering something else to keep me full?”

You swatted at his chest — but he caught your wrist midair, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles, eyes glinting mischief and heat all at once.

You jabbed a finger into his chest, voice dripping with exasperated sweetness.

“I’m not your wife, Sylus. The only reason I’m putting up with you is Elea. Remember that.”

His eyes glinted, the corner of his mouth twitching like you’d just handed him his favourite toy, “Mmm. Sure, sweetheart. You are not my wife. Yet.”

Before you could fire back, he dipped in closer — so close you could feel the smug laughter rumble through his chest as he nipped your earlobe.

“Lucky for me, Elea wants me here forever. So… better start practising that ‘husband’ word.”

You shoved him away with a huff, but your pulse was already traitorously fast. Sylus just laughed, backing you up toward the kitchen like a big, smug shadow you’d never shake.

“Now, come on.” He teased, brushing past you to fling your fridge open like he owned it, “Be a good fake wife and feed your starving man, hm?”

You crossed your arms tighter, jabbing your chin toward the kitchen, “The kitchen is right there, Sylus. Go make it yourself. I have work to get to.”

His grin widened — that slow, dangerous curl that always made your stomach flip even when you wanted to smack him. He cocked his head, leaning just close enough for you to smell that infuriating cologne.

“Oh? So heartless. Sending the poor man who moved mountains just to be with his family to starve on his first morning?” He clicked his tongue, mock disappointment dripping from every word.

You just raised your brows, “You moved a trolley bag. Congratulations, Hercules.”

He laughed, low and warm, then reached past you like he might cage you against the counter — but at the last second, he plucked a mug off the shelf instead.

“Fine. But next time, sweetheart, I expect pancakes. Or I’ll eat you instead.”

You smacked his arm with a dishtowel, ignoring the way your heart was hammering, “Get out of my way, Sylus.”

“Try and make me.” His grin was pure devil.

It was hard — getting Sylus off your back. Like trying to shake off a big, smug, six-foot-two barnacle with a criminal empire and an ego the size of Linkon City. But in the end, you managed to slip out the door, leaving him with nothing but his pastel-pink suitcase and a fridge he was perfectly capable of raiding himself.

You had bigger things to handle today anyway. Like convincing the Hunter’s Association to let you work from home for a while — because like hell you were going to leave Elea alone with that mad dog unsupervised. Not yet. Not when you still didn’t know exactly what went on inside that thick skull of his, behind that easy grin and those predator eyes.

Sylus Qin could play house all he wanted — but you weren’t stupid enough to forget who he really was and what went down seven years ago. And no matter how many pink suitcases he dragged through your door, you’d be damned if you let your guard down completely. Not when you had Elea to protect. Nothing was worth risking Elea.

Asshole.

A word you’d proudly dedicate to your boss. That man knew exactly how to dig under your skin, flick every last nerve raw, and then sit back and watch you twitch for his own amusement. He hadn’t even bothered to look up from his paperwork when you stepped into his office that morning.

You’d tried — you really had — to explain it calmly. The need to work from home for a few weeks. You’d laid it out like a rational adult: your daughter’s daycare was closing for renovations, so you needed to be remote for a while.

Your boss, though? He’d barely glanced up from his precious stack of files.

“Work from home? What for? So you can slack off in your pyjamas all day? I know your type.”

Your type.

You’d almost vaulted over his desk right then and there.

Instead, you bit down so hard on your tongue you tasted copper while he shooed you out with some half-baked lecture about “discipline” and “face-to-face accountability.” Before you could say something that would definitely get you fired, you turned on your heel and stormed out of that office like your shoes were on fire.

The door slammed behind you.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath, “May every cup of coffee he ever drinks be lukewarm for the rest of his miserable life. May his ancestors rise from their graves just to smack him upside the—”

“Whoa, whoa — who died?”

You skidded to a halt, nearly crashing into a familiar figure just outside the strategy wing. Jenna. Leader of UNICORNS — the Hunter’s Association’s fiercest elite unit. Perfect posture and that signature half-smile that said she’d heard every last word.

“Jenna…” You breathed out like a prayer, then scowled, “My boss is a—”

“Asshole?” She arched an eyebrow, “That's old news. Tell me something new.”

You deflated, shoulders sagging, “I just… I asked to work from home for a bit. Elea’s daycare is closed for renovations, so I needed to stay home. He shot me down so fast I nearly—”

“He did what?” Jenna’s tone went razor-sharp, “You’ve been carrying this branch for how long? No infractions, overtime banked for weeks, and he won't grant you one short WFH stint?”

Your mouth popped open, “Well… yeah. That’s exactly it.”

She gave you that feral smile that had made rogue wanderers cry for mercy more than once, “Consider it done. You’re remote for two weeks — minimum. If your boss has a problem, he can take it up with me.”

Relief — thick and grateful — bloomed under your ribs, “You’re an—”

“Don’t say angel.” Jenna cut in, rolling her eyes, “I’m no angel. I’m a hunter. Now get out of here before he drags you back into his bullshit.”

You ran back to your desk like the boss's office was on fire — which, in your head, it practically was. You didn’t even bother glancing back at your boss’s door, half-expecting him to come stomping after you with another “face-to-face accountability” sermon.

You fumbled for your phone with half-numb fingers, silently praying Sylus hadn’t turned your living room into his new throne room yet. Just then, the screen lit up with the one number you hadn’t even bothered saving.

Sylus.

You stared at it for half a second, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, before you swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

His voice came through warm, velvet-dark and smug enough to crawl straight under your skin.

“Good to know.” He cut in smoothly, his tone dipping into that playful, dangerous rumble that made you want to strangle him and melt for him all at once, “But I’m not asking about my baby. I’m asking about my sweetheart. When will she be home?”

“Sweetheart. When is my sweetheart coming home?”

“Elea will be back by 5 o'clock. Her school bus will drop her off.”

Your breath hitched. You hated that it hitched, “Sylus…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You shut your eyes, fighting the heat in your cheeks, “Stop.”

He chuckled — low, pleased, like he could hear every bit of your resolve slipping through the line.

“Can’t. I missed you. Now tell me — should I come pick you up? Or will you come running back to me on your own before I turn your living room into a bird's nest?”

You pressed your thumb to your temple, squeezing your eyes shut for a beat. Focus. Do not fall for this. Not again.

“I won’t be back until three.” You said finally, trying to keep your voice flat, unaffected. But of course, he caught the slip — that faint waver when you said back — and you could practically hear his grin stretch wider through the line.

He hummed low, the sound brushing heat across your skin despite the bitter morning air, “Mmm. Three. That’s so far away, sweetheart. How am I going to survive till then?”

You forced a dry laugh, biting back the dangerous flutter in your chest. Don’t give him an inch.

“You’ll survive just fine. Try using that big, terrifying brain for something other than—” You bit your tongue before the rest could slip out like a secret.

“Other than what, sweetheart?” He purred, his voice a warm, lazy curl around your pulse, “Go on. Be honest. You know how I love your honesty.”

Your eyes snapped open, gaze darting around the parking lot like he might somehow be leaning against your car door — sunglasses low, smile sharp enough to cut you open.

“Other than driving me insane,” You snapped, yanking your bag higher on your shoulder, “Try washing the dishes. Or, I don’t know — folding your own damn laundry for once. Did you even unpack yet?”

He gave a soft, mocking gasp, “You wound me. First, you abandon me, and now you insult me?”

“Abandon—?” You sputtered, throat tightening, “I didn’t—”

The silence on the line felt like a bruise spreading under your ribs. You almost forgot how sharp his words could be when he wanted to remind you who you were — who he was.

“That’s not—” You began, but the words died on your tongue.

What would you even say? I did what I had to do? You deserved it? None of it would matter. None of it would change that look in his eyes when he first found you again — part hunger, part accusation, part something you were too afraid to name.

“Anyway.” He said suddenly, tone shifting so fast you nearly stumbled. That bright, taunting sweetness was back in a heartbeat, smoothing over the crackling static between you, “You’ll be back at three. I’ll be waiting.”

“Sylus—”

He laughed — soft and pleased — and you could almost see that wolfish grin behind your eyelids.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll keep the house nice and warm for you.”

The line clicked dead. You stared at your phone like it might bite you — your heartbeat a traitorous drum in your ears.

[8 YEARS & 7 MONTHS AGO, CHANSIA CITY]

You’d long since lost count of how many nights you’d sneaked out of that cage you called home. Before, your destination had always been the library — its warm, hushed corners where no one could find you — or the tiny market two blocks away where you’d linger over fresh bread and cheap flowers, pretending, just for a moment, that you belonged to yourself.

But now? Now you had somewhere else to go. Somewhere that felt like hope stitched into four walls.

A cozy little apartment, right across from the library — the one Sylus bought just for you. A place you could run to in the dead of night, curl up safe in his arms, and pretend the world outside didn’t exist for a few stolen hours.

He called it your escape zone — like it was a secret between just the two of you. Sometimes, you’d slip in to find him already there, stretched out on the gray sofa with his shirt half-undone, papers scattered across the coffee table like fallen leaves. He’d glance up, that lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and just like that, every piece of you that felt frayed would knit itself back together.

But there were rare nights — precious ones — when you got there first. Nights when you could greet him at the door with a shy smile — a hug that lingered a beat too long, a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth just to see his eyes darken like a storm rolling in.

Tonight was one of those nights.

You’d stopped by the little market two blocks down, basket swinging from your wrist, pockets stuffed with whatever your coins could buy — eggs, fresh bread, a handful of tulips bruised at the edges but beautiful all the same. You wanted to surprise him. Do something small. Something normal. Something that made you feel like this fragile thing between you could really be yours to keep.

By the time you got to the apartment, your fingers were numb from the chill. You juggled the grocery bag on your hip as you slipped the key into the lock — heart fluttering when you found the lights still off. He wasn’t here yet. Perfect.

You padded inside, kicking off your shoes. The room smelled like him — warm leather and aftershave and that faint metallic tang you could never quite place. You pushed that thought away, humming under your breath as you unpacked your little treasures: the greens, the eggs, a tiny jar of honey.

He’d stocked the fridge with everything you could possibly need, of course. Top-shelf wine, expensive cheeses, organic herbs. But you’d gone out anyway — just to feel normal, just to feel like you could still do something for him.

You’d even splurged — spent the last of your coins on a small bouquet of white roses, each bloom so pale they looked carved from moonlight. Tiny sprays of baby’s breath nestled between the petals — fragile and fleeting. White roses always reminded you of Sylus — on the surface, all restrained grace and cold beauty, but you knew better: every soft petal hid thorns sharp enough to draw blood. Just like him — a promise of devotion that could protect you… or ruin you, if you weren’t careful.

You’d changed into one of Sylus’s sweaters — a big, warm, black thing that hung off one shoulder and smelled just like him. The sleeves draped halfway over your hands as you moved around the kitchen, humming along to the quiet music playing off your phone.

The lasagna bubbled away in the oven, filling the air with warmth and garlic and the kind of comfort you could never find in that cold house you called home. You were just mixing the side salad, swaying a little in time with the music, when you heard it — the faint click and rattle of the front doorknob.

You nearly knocked over the salt shaker in your rush to wipe your hands on a dish towel. Your feet carried you to the entryway before you could even think.

And there he was. Sylus, standing in the open doorway like he’d stepped out of one of your midnight dreams — coat hanging loose, hair tousled from the wind, eyes finding you the second he crossed the threshold.

You didn’t wait. You launched yourself at him, arms looping around his neck so fast you heard his low laugh rumble against your ear. His hands caught you easily, one braced under your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist like you’d done this a thousand times — like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He murmured, voice muffled as he pressed his nose into your hair, “Missed me that much, huh?”

You mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like shut up but he just chuckled, walking you back inside without ever putting you down. The door thunked shut behind him, sealing you back into this small world that belonged to nobody but the two of you.

His hand slipped up under the hem of his own sweater — your sweater now — fingers brushing your bare waist like he was reminding himself you were really here, warm and soft in his arms. He carried you the few steps to the wall by the hallway, your back pressing against the cool plaster.

“Say it.” He murmured, voice dark silk as his breath fanned your cheek.

“Say what?” You breathed, pretending not to know, but your fingers were already tugging at the hair at his nape, urging him closer.

“That you missed me.”

You let out a soft huff — half a laugh, half a curse — and rolled your eyes just to be difficult, “Shut up—”

“Not good enough.”

And then he kissed you.

Not soft. Not sweet. He kissed you like he was starving for you — like he’d tear the world apart with his teeth just to taste you again. Your back thudded harder into the wall when he pressed closer, hips slotting against yours like they were carved to fit there.

You gasped against his mouth and he swallowed it whole, lips dragging down to your jaw, your neck, biting just enough to make you whimper before he surged back up to claim your mouth again.

It was messy. Desperate. All teeth and tangled tongues and the faint, sweet taste of the honey you’d dipped your finger in just before he arrived. One of your hands fisted in his coat, the other scrabbling at the hem of his shirt like you needed more skin, now.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless — your lips swollen, his mouth pink and glistening like sin. His thumb brushed your cheek, eyes so dark they were nearly black in the low light.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” He rasped, forehead pressing to yours, “Keep looking at me like that, and I'm not letting you leave tonight.”

A soft laugh bubbled up in your throat, breathless and a little shaky as your fingertips traced the line of his jaw.

“Good.” You whispered, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Because I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

He stilled — you felt it, the way his whole body went taut, that carefully leashed wolf under his skin going deadly quiet. His eyes flicked over your face like he was trying to memorize every word, every twitch of your smile.

“What?” His voice was low, cautious, like he was afraid to break whatever spell you’d just woven.

You ducked your head, the heat in your cheeks warming you more than the oven in the kitchen.

“My father’s out of town for the week.” You murmured, fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “And my brother couldn’t care less where I am — or if I’m even alive, really.”

You felt him tense again, a dangerous glint flashing behind his eyes at the mention of your family. But you pressed a finger to his lips before he could snarl something you’d both regret.

“If — if — anyone bothers to wonder where I am, Sara will cover for me. She always does.”

A grin — wicked and boyish and entirely Sylus — broke across his lips. He nipped at your fingertip, catching it between his teeth before pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“So…” He drawled, leaning in, nose brushing yours, “what you’re telling me is… you’re all mine tonight.”

Your laugh turned into a soft gasp when he pressed you tighter against the wall, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs.

“And tomorrow.” You breathed, kissing the tip of his nose, “And the day after that.”

A low rumble of approval vibrated in his chest, “Careful, sweetheart. Keep saying things like that and I’ll keep you here forever.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, giggling into the fabric of his coat, your laughter muffled against the scent of him — leather, musk, and that sharp edge that was all Sylus. For one perfect second, the rest of the world felt like it didn’t exist at all.

You pulled back just enough to press your lips to the corner of his mouth, your fingers tracing the collar of his shirt.

“Go freshen up.” You murmured, brushing a bit of imaginary lint from his chest, “Dinner will be ready soon… and I got you something.”

His brows arched, amusement flickering in those crimson eyes as they flitted to the grocery bag still half-unpacked on the counter.

“Something for me?” He echoed, the grin curling slow and dangerous over his mouth. He leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing yours again — a gentle tease that made your stomach flip, “You’ll spoil me, kitten.”

You huffed, giving him a playful shove on the chest that didn’t budge him an inch, “Spoil you? Hardly. Now go — before you charm me into forgetting the lasagna and burning it to ash.”

He chuckled — a low, pleased rumble in his chest that you felt more than heard — before pressing one last, soft kiss to your temple.

“Yes, ma’am.” He murmured, voice dropping into that smooth, obedient lilt that made your heart stutter, “Don’t take too long, hmm? I don’t like waiting for my rewards.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin as you watched him saunter off toward the small bathroom down the hall, peeling off his coat and tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair.

You turned back to the kitchen, a soft hum slipping past your lips as you checked the oven. A little longer — just enough time to set the table, light the cheap candle you’d snagged from the market, and tuck the small bouquet of white roses into a jar on the counter.

Something normal. Something yours. Something that felt like hope.

[PRESENT TIME, LINKON CITY]

It was already half past three by the time you were driving home. God knew what kind of tantrum Sylus would throw when you got back. Sylus — you still couldn’t figure him out. To an outsider, he looked like the perfect husband and father. And while you didn’t disagree with the father part — not when it came to Elea — husband? That was another story altogether.

Sylus was your whole world once. You never doubted he would have set the world ablaze for you — made it rain in the middle of the Sahara if you’d only asked. Back then, every soft touch, every stolen night in that little apartment, every promise whispered against your lips made you believe he was your Prince Charming. The kind you read about in secret under your blanket — the kind who’d love you so fiercely nothing could touch you.

But that was the lie you clung to when you didn’t know better. Because at the end of the day, you were nothing but a pawn to him. Just his enemy’s daughter — a pretty piece on his chessboard, a means to an end, while he was your whole life. It was stupid. So stupid — but you’d loved him with every bruised piece of your heart, even when it cost you everything.

The blood, the fear, the betrayal — you’d paid for every moment you let yourself believe that fairytale. You couldn’t afford to do that again. Not now. Not when you had more to lose than just your own heart.

Because Sylus Qin was still the same man underneath all those soft words and easy smiles. A cold-blooded mob leader, ruthless and unrepentant — willing to break the world and you right along with it if it got him what he wanted.

And you’d be damned if you let yourself fall for that sweet poison twice.

You let out a slow, shaky breath and forced your hands to steady on the wheel. Just keep driving. Get home.

But the hairs at the back of your neck wouldn’t lie flat. A flicker in the mirror made your pulse spike. A dark car — unfamiliar, a little too close, keeping just enough distance to look innocent.

You told yourself you were being paranoid. Sylus’s shadow always had a way of crawling up your spine — seeing threats where there were none. Still… you needed to be sure.

You turned off your usual route, taking a winding back road through an old neighborhood. No reason for anyone to follow you there — not unless they were actually following you. You checked the mirror again. There it was — still behind you. Tight in your lane, slowing when you slowed.

Your heart drummed hard against your ribs. You took another random turn — then another. The car stayed with you like a ghost, its headlights a cold promise in the rearview.

But just as your skin started to crawl for real — just when you reached for your phone, thumb hovering over Jenna’s name — the car suddenly veered off down a side street. Gone. You forced out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Maybe you really were imagining things. Or maybe you’d just gotten lucky.

You barely managed a shaky exhale, fingers still clenched white-knuckled around the wheel, when your phone lit up again — that same unsaved number that made your pulse skip for an entirely different reason. Sylus. Of course.

Your thumb hovered over the screen. You could almost picture him now — that careless grin carved across his mouth like a threat and a promise all at once. He always called at the worst possible time — like he could smell the crack in your armor through the line.

You answered on the second ring, voice rough at the edges, “What now, Sylus?”

He didn’t bother with a greeting. Just that one word, careful and too knowing, “You sound… wrong. What happened?”

Your fingers tightened around the wheel. Damn him for hearing it in your voice — the panic, the suspicion you were still trying to swallow down.

“Nothing. Just… traffic.” You forced a scoff into your tone, “Why? Don’t pretend to care. What is it, Sylus? I'm driving.”

Silence pulsed on the line. You pictured that glint in his eyes — the one that always made you feel like he was peeling your ribs open, looking for the parts of you that still belonged to him.

Then, like a switch flicked, his voice dipped into that sickeningly warm purr that always made your traitor heart skip.

“Mmm. If you say so.” You heard a crayon roll across the floor, “You know, I was thinking… maybe I should pick up my little angel today. Give you a break, sweetheart.”

A bitter laugh slipped out before you could stop it, “Don’t start. You’re not on her school’s pick-up list. And you won’t be. Not yet.”

He let out a soft, dramatic sigh — you hated how you could hear the smile behind it.

“So cruel. You’d keep me away from my baby girl? I’m here, moving to a whole new city — for you. For her.”

You bit down on the ugly knot in your throat. You hated him — you wanted to hate him. And yet some treacherous warmth still prickled under your ribs, stupid and soft.

“Don’t act like this is for me.” You snapped, cutting him off, “This is for Elea. It’s always for Elea.”

A pause. Then that dangerous, lazy laugh that made your skin crawl and ache at the same time.

“Of course, sweetheart. For Elea.” He drawled, “Drive safe. Wouldn’t want you getting all worked up when I’m not there to calm you down.”

You hung up before he could say more, jamming your thumb against the screen so hard it almost cracked. You wanted to hate him. God, you needed to. But your stupid heart…It never listened.

By the time dusk draped itself over the house like a velvet blanket, you were just bone-tired. Whatever tension lingered from the afternoon was buried under Elea’s chatter, the soft clink of plates, and the strange domestic calm that settled around the dinner table.

Sylus had insisted on helping you finish up dinner — if you could call leaning against the counter, watching you with that infuriating half-smile helping. But you’d let it be. For Elea’s sake.

Now the three of you sat together like the world hadn’t ended seven years ago. Like he hadn’t broken you so thoroughly that you still found splinters in your chest every time he smiled at you like this — warm, doting, and too close.

Elea kicked her tiny feet under the table, swinging them as she stuffed another spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. Her pink tulip hair clip bobbed with every bite. You’d just taken a sip of your water, finally letting your shoulders relax for the first time that day.

That was your first mistake.

“Mommy?” Elea piped up, voice all sugar and bedtime sleepiness. She dropped her spoon and pressed her little hands together like she was about to make a wish.

“Hmm? Slow down, baby. You’ll choke.” You leaned over to wipe her mouth, but she caught your wrist in her tiny grip.

“When can I sleep with you and daddy?”

You choked — the water hit the wrong pipe and you coughed so hard you saw stars. Sylus, the bastard, didn’t even hide his grin. You could feel his eyes slide over to you, slow and deliberate, like a hand slipping up your bare spine.

“Lea,” You croaked, pressing your napkin to your lips, “What… what do you mean, sweetheart?”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, watching you struggle like it was his favorite sport. He tilted his head toward Elea, voice so soft you wanted to smack him.

“Yeah, baby. Tell mommy what you mean.” He was smirking. You could hear it. Feel it.

Elea beamed, “Back at school, Becky says she sleeps with her mommy and daddy in their big bed all the time. I want that too! I wanna sleep with my mommy and daddy.”

You opened your mouth, closed it, then glared at Sylus like you could set him on fire with your eyeballs alone. He just raised his brows at you, like he’d been handed a gift.

“See?” He murmured, reaching out to tap his fingertip under Elea’s chin, “Our little angel wants what she wants. You gonna say no to her, sweetheart?”

Your throat burned from the coughing, “Elea, baby, our bed isn’t… it’s just…”

Your daughter’s lower lip wobbled, eyes huge and watery, “Please? Pretty please? We can all cuddle! And daddy can tell stories — the scary ones with the dragons.”

You shot Sylus a look. Don’t you dare encourage this. But he only shrugged, eyes glinting like a wolf who’d found a hole in the fence.

“Well, mommy?” He asked, voice velvet-smooth as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, “You heard her. Are you really gonna break her little heart?”

Your whole chest squeezed — with exasperation, fear, and that dangerous warmth that came crawling back every time he did this. You hated how easily he slipped into that empty space beside you. How he made you want things you’d already lost.

You drew a shaky breath, looking at Elea’s bright, pleading eyes.

“Fine.” You sighed, pushing your plate away, “But just tonight. One night.”

Elea squealed, clapping her hands together, “Yay! Best day ever!”

Sylus’s smug grin didn’t fade for the rest of dinner. Every so often, he’d brush his knee against yours under the table — so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it.

It was bedtime now — or at least, that sweet pocket of quiet right before it. The house was calm, the dishes done, the soft patter of the shower running in the background. Sylus had disappeared into the washroom ten minutes ago to clean up, and you were half-tempted to lock the door behind him just to buy yourself some peace.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, Elea giggling in your lap as you helped her wiggle into her favorite bunny pajamas. The tiny ones with the floppy ears on the hood that made her look like an escapee from a fairytale.

Your mind, traitorous as ever, drifted to Sylus — that sly fox. You could feel him seeping into every corner of your life again. His crisp shirts now hung on your side of the closet, his toothbrush sat snug in the washroom container right between yours and Elea’s, his phone rested on the nightstand like it had every right to be there.

You huffed out a half-laugh, brushing Elea’s hair away from her forehead

“Your daddy is so annoying, you know that?” You whispered conspiratorially.

Elea just blinked at you with those big eyes — Sylus’s eyes — and beamed, nodding far too enthusiastically for your liking.

“Daddy not annoying.” She echoed, then broke into a fit of giggles when you poked her belly.

Outside the bathroom door, you heard the shower shut off, pipes rattling as the water drained away. You sighed, pressing a soft kiss to Elea’s temple. Maybe you were doomed. Maybe you’d always be doomed when it came to him.

But for now — for tonight — you could pretend it was just this: bunny pajamas, bedtime giggles, and your little family stitched together under one roof. Just for now.

The bathroom door creaked open just as you finished smoothing Elea’s bunny hood over her wild hair. You didn’t have to look up to know Sylus was standing there — you could feel his smug heat from halfway across the room. You forced yourself to look. Big mistake.

“Liking the view, sweetie?” His voice came lazy, all velvet and amusement, like he could read every thought racing through your head.

He’d come out only wearing a pair of gray trousers, droplets of water still sliding down the slope of his collarbone, disappearing beneath the faint trail of hair at his abdomen. His hair was damp, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and he raked a hand through it like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You scoffed, a little too sharp to hide the sudden burn in your cheeks.

“Your shirt’s right there. Use it.” You gestured to where his shirt was resting comfortably — the shirt he’d smugly unpacked and arranged in your closet, like he belonged there.

He didn’t bother. Of course he didn’t. He padded closer instead, like a big, lazy cat with claws hidden behind that soft grin. Elea squealed when she saw him, throwing her arms out.

“Daddy, story! Bunny story!”

“Oh? You want Daddy to tell you a bedtime story?” Sylus purred, sinking down onto the left side of the bed, ignoring the way you tried to scoot back just an inch. He swooped Elea right onto his chest.

“Yes!” Elea bounced excitedly, tugging at his damp hair, “Mommy too!”

Your eye twitched. God! You wanted to just throw out of the window. Is falling from the second floor enough to kill a man?

Elea was already snuggling into his chest, bunny ears flopping over his forearm. Sylus cleared his throat dramatically, brushing a kiss to her hair — and then shot you a sly look that promised you were in for it.

“Once upon a time…” He began, voice deep and rich, “There was a clever little bunny who liked to sneak into a big bad wolf’s house every night. She’d tiptoe past all the other hunters and curl up right in his den, where it was warmest.”

Your jaw dropped, “Sylus—!”

It was the same damn story he’d told you that night you’d woken up crying from a nightmare, voice trembling when you’d asked him for a bedtime story to calm you down. You didn’t need to be a genius to know exactly where that tale came from — or who the big bad wolf was.

“But the wolf…” Sylus continued smoothly, ignoring your glare, “…oh, he loved his little bunny so much that he let her nibble on his tail whenever she wanted. And when the hunters tried to take her away, the big bad wolf swore he’d tear the whole forest down to bring her home.”

Elea let out a dreamy little sigh, oblivious to the heat creeping up your neck.

“Bunny happy?” She asked sleepily.

Sylus’s eyes flicked to yours, smirk curling devilishly, “Very happy, princess. Because the wolf always takes care of what’s his. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You made a strangled noise, throwing a pillow at him — which he caught one-handed, never missing a beat as he dipped down to brush his lips over Elea’s brow.

“If you don’t stop—” You hissed.

“Or what?” He tipped his head, the wolf grin sharp and beautiful, “You’ll chop my hands off? Then how would I hold you at night?”

He leaned in like he might actually kiss you next, your breath tangling with his. Elea giggled sleepily between you, completely unaware she’d just given him every excuse in the world to lay his claim bare.

You jabbed a finger at his temple, “If you try anything funny, Sylus Qin, I swear to God I will chop your hands off in your sleep for real.”

He looked at you, all faux-wounded innocence, eyes glittering with something that made your spine tingle.

“You wound me, sweetheart. I’m just telling our little bunny a bedtime story. What could possibly be funny about that?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Everything. Especially when it’s you.”

You hadn’t meant to sleep so deeply. Or so… peacefully.

But for the first time in years, there were no shadows clawing at your dreams. No waking up with your pulse thrumming like you’d been chased through every nightmare you swore you’d buried. Just warmth — a steady heartbeat under your ear, the slow rise and fall of someone breathing who wasn’t going to vanish when you opened your eyes.

When the soft, sleepy fog finally lifted, the first thing you heard was Elea’s giggle — the sweet, bubbling sound of a child with no idea she was sitting in the middle of a loaded minefield of secrets and half-healed wounds.

You cracked one eye open. Sunlight spilled through the half-drawn curtains, dust motes drifting in the glow like tiny fireflies. And there she was — your daughter perched by Sylus’s head on the pillow, tiny fingers scrolling your phone, showing him something with an excited squeal every few seconds.

And Sylus? That bastard looked unfairly good in the morning light — hair mussed from sleep, shirt collar rumpled, one arm draped possessively around your waist like it belonged there. Like you belonged there. He was half-listening to Elea’s chatter, his eyes flicking to you with that slow, dangerous smile when he felt you stir.

You realized — really realized — that your cheek was pressed against his chest. That your leg was thrown over his hip like you’d done this a thousand times. That his thumb was stroking lazy circles over your back, grounding you in a way that made your throat tighten.

You jolted back so fast you nearly knocked yourself off the bed.

“Mommy!” Elea giggled, completely oblivious, the phone still clutched in her tiny hands, “Look! Look at the picture I took!”

There, crystal clear on your screen, was a photo: you curled up against Sylus’s bare chest like you’d never left — hair spilled all over his collarbone, your lips parted on a drool-damp patch of his skin. His arm locked tight around your back, his face buried in your hair, that infuriating smug smile half-there even in sleep.

You could practically feel the heat crawling up your neck — so high it stung behind your eyes.

“Elea…” You rasped, reaching for the phone, but Sylus was faster. He plucked it from her hands, his grin the definition of sin at dawn.

“Mmm, look at that.” He drawled, like he’d been waiting his whole life to gloat, “Don’t we look perfect, sweetie?”

You snatched for the phone again, “Delete it. Now.”

His free hand — the one that had been tracing circles on your spine all night — came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek like he owned you.

“I’m thinking we frame it.” He murmured, low enough that Elea couldn’t hear the dangerous purr in his voice, “Perfect for the nightstand, don’t you think?”

You hissed, smacking his chest, “Sylus Qin, I'm gonna kil—”

But your threat crumbled when Elea giggled again, snuggling into your side and resting her tiny head on your arm.

“You looked so pretty, Mommy. Don’t be mad.”

And just like that — you were ruined all over again.

That one night didn’t stay just one night.

Every night after that, somehow, impossibly, the three of you ended up tangled together in the same bed — Elea snuggled like a little starfish in the middle, Sylus draped around you both like he’d decided this time he wasn’t letting go.

You told yourself it was just for Elea. She wanted it — and what were you supposed to do? Break your daughter’s heart just to protect your own?

So you lay there, night after night, wrapped in the warmth of him — the way he’d bury his nose in your hair when he thought you were asleep, how his hand always found your waist under the blankets like his body just knew where yours was.

You told yourself you could handle it. That you were above it. That you wouldn’t let your heart get dragged back into the place you’d bled so hard to crawl out of.

But every morning, you’d wake up in his arms. And every morning, your resolve would crack a little more.

Tonight, you jolted awake to the sharp crack of glass shattering downstairs. For one dizzy heartbeat, you couldn’t tell if you were dreaming — but then you felt Sylus shift beside you, his arm tightening protectively around your waist as his eyes flicked to the door, all warmth gone, replaced by that ice-cold focus you remembered too well.

He didn’t say a word at first — just raised his free hand, and with that quiet flex of power that always made your breath catch, a sleek black gun seemed to melt into existence from the shadows under the bed. His evol — you’d seen it enough times to know he could pull blades and bullets from thin air like a magician conjuring death.

“Stay with Elea.” He whispered, voice low and deadly calm, eyes hard on yours, “I’ll handle this.”

You bristled immediately, “Like hell you will. I know this house better than you do. I'll get this done within minutes."

“Sweetheart, no—”

“No, Sylus.” You were already slipping out of bed, bare feet hitting the cool floor, “I’m not playing with my daughter's life.”

His jaw twitched — frustration, fear, and that deep, resigned fondness that always carved itself through his mask, “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, well, you married me, didn’t you?” You shot back, crossing to the closet.

You punched in the code on the hidden locker panel and pulled out the cold, familiar weight of your own pistol. His lips curled faintly, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss you or drag you back to bed and chain you there.

He grunted, flicked the safety on his gun, “Stay close. If I say run, you run.”

“We'll see.” You fired back. He didn’t argue this time. He knew better.

Sylus slipped out into the hallway. You paused only long enough to lock the bedroom door behind you, pressing your palm to the scanner until the reinforced bolts slid into place with a heavy thunk. No one was getting to Elea tonight. Not even a s-level wonderer.

Step by careful step, you and Sylus padded down the staircase, the shadows swallowing you both like ghosts. The faintest noise drifted up from the kitchen — voices — hushed, sharp whispers and the clatter of something falling.

You stopped at the last landing. Sylus shifted forward just enough to peek around the corner — and without even thinking, his arm went out, pushing you gently behind him, a living shield between you and any threat. Some things never changed.

You leaned around his shoulder, gun raised. And what you saw nearly made you bark out a laugh that would’ve gotten you both killed if the situation had been even remotely real.

In the soft glow of the kitchen pendant light stood Luke and Kierran — two very familiar boys — both still fully suited up in their tactical black uniforms, masks perched on their faces like a pair of overgrown crows. Luke was waving a half-eaten carrot like a sword, while Kierran was hurling slices of tomato at him across the counter. Veggies littered the floor like battlefield shrapnel.

And on the kitchen island, between the scattered chaos, sat a single slice of leftover chocolate pastry — the clear source of their vicious quarrel.

“You literally shoved a whole pizza down your throat not even an hour ago, you donkey! I saw it first!” Kierran hissed.

“You ate the last one last week!” Luke shot back, flicking a slice of bell pepper at Kierran’s mask, “You owe me, you traitorous trash crow!”

Sylus let out a low growl that did absolutely nothing to hide the disbelief in his eyes. He lowered his gun with a soft click, then gave you a look that was equal parts are “you seeing this shit?” and “I swear to God I will murder them both”.

Sylus didn’t even bother to lower his gun all the way. He just stalked forward like a predator, boots silent on the kitchen tiles until he was right behind them — then smack, he cuffed Luke upside the head with a flat palm. Kierran got the same treatment a second later, yelping when Sylus’s hand collided with the back of his skull.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Sylus hissed, voice low and dangerous in that way that usually made grown men piss themselves.

Luke spun around, mask askew, mouth dropping open like a scolded puppy, “Boss—”

Kierran popped his head up from behind the fridge door, clutching the pastry plate to his chest like a puppy with a bone, “It’s not what it looks like!”

“Oh, really?” Sylus’s tone went razor sharp, “Because it looks like you broke into my house, trashed my kitchen, and—” His eyes flicked to the pastry, “—stole my daughter's dessert.”

Luke puffed out his cheeks, offended, “We didn’t steal it, we— we liberated it.”

Kierran nodded so earnestly you almost choked on a laugh.

“Yeah! And anyway, we missed her!” He jabbed a thumb in your direction without shame, eyes wide behind the mask, “We haven’t seen her in years! And you said we couldn’t drop by! You said we’d freak her out!”

“You did freak me out.” You muttered, lowering your gun with a sigh.

Luke perked up, bright eyes peeking over his mask, “But you missed us, didn’t you, miss boss?”

“Don’t call me that. What do you think you were doing — breaking into my house in the middle of the night?” Your voice was firm, but you felt your lips twitch. God. You really had missed them — these two reckless idiots who’d wormed their way under your skin back then.

Kierran sniffed, clutching the pastry slice like it was a shield, “But we wanted to meet our precious niece too! Boss won’t let us— he’s so stingy!”

Luke nodded, scowling at Sylus, who looked one heartbeat away from committing an actual murder, “Yeah! All we want is a little peek at our niece and maybe a hug from miss boss. Is that so unreasonable?”

You pressed your palm over your face, torn between relief, exasperation, and that sharp ache in your chest that said these idiots used to feel like family, “You’re lucky I’m not shooting you both.”

Luke’s eyes went wide and shimmering — pure puppy dog eyes, “You wouldn’t! You love us.”

Kierran leaned around him, poking your shoulder with a gloved finger, “Say you missed us, miss boss. Or we’ll keep coming back. Every. Night.”

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, teeth grinding, but there was a ghost of something softer in his eyes when he glanced at you — because he saw it too. The part of you that was relieved they were still the same. Still your two annoying little shadows.

You let out a long, exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Alright. You two man-children — listen up. You want to see Elea? You come back tomorrow. In broad daylight. Like normal uncles. And you knock. You knock like civilized people — no more of this—” You waved a hand at the flour-dusted floor and the busted vegetable bag, “—ninja break-in bullshit.”

Kierran's whole face lit up behind the mask, eyes going wide like a puppy given permission to come back inside, “So we can meet her?! Really?!”

Luke squealed — actually squealed — hugging the pastry plate tighter, “You’re the best, miss boss! The best!”

Sylus glowered at them both, looking like he might snap their necks just for the principle, “If you wake her up—”

But Luke and Kierran ignored him, already shuffling to the door — which they’d apparently unlocked on their way in. They were still bickering about who got to hold Elea first when Luke shot you one last puppy-eyed grin.

“Love you, Miss Bunny! You’re prettier than ever— oh, and this is ours now—” He gestured to the half-melted chocolate pastry still clutched in Kierran’s hand.

“Hey—!” Sylus snapped, but the front door swung shut behind them before he could finish.

Silence fell, broken only by your sharp exhale. You leveled a dagger glare at Sylus — who, to his credit, looked only mildly murderous but also… faintly amused. That did it. Your hand flew up, finger jabbing his chest.

“I’m going to kill you.”

Sylus blinked, head tilting with mock innocence, “Me? What did I do?”

“Oh, don’t you dare—!” You snapped, poking him again, “You — you and your damn pet wolves — you’re dragging Elea into this world of yours. Slowly. Do you realize how dangerous—”

Before you could finish, Sylus leaned in with that devil-may-care grin, “You’ll have to catch me first, sweetheart.”

You barely had time to let out a strangled growl before he spun on his heel — all six feet of smug mafia prince bolting around the kitchen island like a grown man-child.

“Sylus Qin, I swear to God—!” You tore after him, but you were half laughing now, frustration mixing with exasperation and that stupid flutter in your chest that always, always made you forgive him too easily.

It lasted all of five minutes — both of you circling the couch, your threats turning into breathless curses while Sylus just laughed and danced out of reach. In the end, you dropped onto the couch, chest heaving, too tired to keep the anger burning. Your eyes fluttered shut, every bit of you sinking into the cushions.

“I hate you.” You mumbled into your sleeve, voice already slurring with sleep.

Sylus’s chuckle rolled over you like warm honey. He knelt down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple — his shadow falling over you like a shield.

“I know, sweetheart. I hate you too.”

You felt his arms slide under your knees and shoulders, the effortless way he scooped you up like you weighed nothing at all. Your head lolled against his chest as he carried you up the stairs — back to the bedroom, back to the warmth you told yourself you didn’t need.

Maybe you really did hate him. Or maybe… You just hated that you still loved him this much.

LIKED IT? THEN PLEASE LEAVE A LIKE, REBLOG & COMMENT. IT WOULD MEAN A LOT AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE LIKE THESE. THANK YOU ♡

#kissed in poison : the series #lotus writes #lads sylus #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x y/n #lads x reader #lads x you #lads x non!mc reader

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fanged-fanfics · 3 months ago

Note

Oh I loved the Cookie run dragon you write !! Could you write one the sale but a marriage scenario please ??

☆ Snuck Into a Dragon's Pride — Dragon Cookies x Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Pitaya

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It took quite a bit for you to see past all the dueling and challenges, and months after receiving the scale to realize it was all customary Dragon courting. You and Pitaya had been happy for a long time by now, you gave them grounding and they fired you up in return

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Chats about more had happened here or there, but an official decision hadn't been made on what to do. Pitaya always seemed too busy for a deeper commitment, and it secretly worried you. But they still took you out for dates like usually, although more tense now

ᯓᡣ𐭩 One day, however, they offered to take you on a fly. You got taken to the height of a mountain, resting on a ledge that showed a beautiful view of the valley below. They held you close, kneeling down to pull out a carefully contained box. Their wings puffed out as they opened it for you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The scale inside was somehow more beautiful than before. It shone brilliantly, sharpened to perfection. You noticed their tail wagging as they spoke. "I thought about it for a long time. And... I found the bessst gem in the valley. Ssso you'll be mine! Under the might of the Red Dragon!... If you'll have me, little Cookie"

Ananas

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Their courting attempts were rather obvious, the way they spoiled and pampered you showing their true intentions. Now that you two were officially together, it seemed to only get stronger each time

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dates were always rather extravagant, filled with gifts and the best that the offerings could give. Ananas would make comments here or there that hinted to wanting to be closer. You'd discussed it a few times, Ananas always preening delightfully at the idea of having you be theirs

ᯓᡣ𐭩 They had taken you on a sort of vacation. Not too far from home, of course, but just a spot where they knew you would be able to relax the most. On the final night, they took you aside under the setting sun and presented you with another golden scale

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Even in the dimness of the growing dusk, the scale gave a shine unmatched by anything else, golden and warm in the reflection it gave off. Ananas hummed as they wrapped a wing around you "No offering could match your worth to me, my darling. And I know that I won't ever find something that can compare. So I'm asking you, dearest... will you be mine?"

Lotus

ᯓᡣ𐭩 They kept your comfort above all else. You lived a life of luxury by their side, and a secure one at that. They wrote music for you as well, filling the nights with comfortable melodies to soothe your mind

ᯓᡣ𐭩 They were always upfront about their intentions to marry. It was something they longed for, but they made sure to keep it as a mere dream, until you brought it up yourself. From that very moment, they planned the proposal

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It was the middle of a festival when the day came. Another night made to celebrate the emerald dragon, thanking them for their presence and humility. Among the celebration, Lotus informed you that they had a surprise waiting at the end of the night

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Once you two were back home, they halted you before you could climb the steps. They knelt down, holding out their scale with both hands. It was the brightest you'd ever seen, seemingly very well tended to. Lotus looked to you with a tender smile. "You've given me all I've ever wished for and so much more. My dear little pearl, will you do me the honor of staying by my side?"

Longan

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You were honestly constantly surprised that you were dating Longan. With how guarded and protected they presented themself as, it was no wonder. Yet they tried their best to be gentle with you, despite their comments on your strength

ᯓᡣ𐭩 They spent much time around you, navigating how to learn to be softer around someone they'd usually perceive as lesser. They'd mention fleetingly how marriage traditions went, but you didn't get the impression that they were fond of them

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Secretly, Longan had been purposefully spacing out these questions to subtly learn your preferences. They took mental note of what would make a perfect wedding for you, and made plans about it as you both warmed up to the idea more and more

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Longan didn't initially see the appeal of a fancy proposal, but ideas from the other Dragons won out in the end. They went with a more simple approach, returning after a successful battle to present their scale to you, a spotless ivory shining with glory. "Weak one, allow me to carry you through this life" they said "I'll share the burdens of Cookiekind, and lessen the weight on your doughy shoulders

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fuzzypursehoundzipper · 3 months ago

Text

A speshy speshy night

Saxon Ratliff X fem! Reader

Summary : Saxon can’t wait to get you to your hotel room in Thailand.

Tags : established relationship, fingering, missionary, unprotected p in v.

Mature content! 18+ minors DNI!

The constant heat and sweat thanks to Thailand's climate made your skin glow and Saxon being Saxon was already super horny after the long flight and a not so speshy speshy massage.

It was already hard for Saxon to control himself in the flight from introducing you to the mile high club and now it wasn't helping seeing you glowing in a beautiful red bikini by the pool.

He kept looking at you like a lion looks at his prey and you kept on blushing under his glance. No words exchanged between the two of you just that look that only both of you knew what it meant.

Finally after a very long day and the dinner with his family the two of you were going back in your room.

Saxon grabbed you as soon as the room's door opened and pushed you again the wall. " You have no idea how much I have been waiting to get you alone in this room with me" Saxon said as he took off your clothes with passion in his eyes. "Have you bought enough bikinis for this trip?" He asked while taking his shirt off. You replied "enough for 4 more trips like this one" then he said " Good, because I'm tearing this one off of you" and in a blink of an eye he tore off your red panties along with your bra with his strong but smooth hands.

You jumped and he grabbed you and took you towards the bed. He threw you on the bed and you could tell by the look in eyes that you are not going to walk properly tomorrow morning.

He kissed you like you would slip away from his hands if he wouldn't. Then he went on to your neck and left some hickies on your collarbone even after you begged him not to. For which he replied "there are a lot of horny guys on this island. I don't want them to bat an eye on what's mine." And went along with his work.

After waiting for the whole plane ride to the country and the day, he Wasted no time in pushing your legs apart and forcing his length into you.

You still wasn't used to his big junk and it hit you hard every single time.

" Sax.. Saxon baby..You.." you said " can't even form your sentences properly can you?" He said as he kept on hitting that spot which made you roll your eyes.

He kept thrusting into you as you grabbed his shoulders for dear life. Your nails were digging into his back probably leaving scratches. His thrust were heavy and desperate to see you in the way he loves to see you.

It was only a matter of time until you came after he moved his fingers on your clit making you reach heaven. Seeing you in this form was enough for him to loose it too. After a few more thrusts he also came undone. He laid on top of you and kissed your forehead before laying beside you.

Both of you were breathing heavily. " I swear we are going to do this every single night in this city"

You laughed and kept your head on his chest and he said " go to sleep babe, you still have 6 more days to go. I don't want you to be tired for tomorrow." You listened to his beautiful voice as your eyes shut and you felt as safe as you can in his arms. As he also became comfortable and put his hand on your waist, You knew this trip was going to be a good one.

This is my first smut for Saxon Ratliff! Do let me know how it is in the comments! You can reblog! Like and comment! Enjoy! 🎀

Please comment and let me know how it is.. I’m open to any suggestions or improvements!

#saxon ratliff fanfic #saxon ratliff x reader #saxon ratliff smut #saxon ratliff #Saxon Ratliff x y/n #the white lotus s3 #Saxon Ratliff x you #white lotus s3 #smut #lochlan ratliff #white lotus #white lotus fanfic #Saxon x you #Saxon x reader #Saxon x y/n

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starfallsoup · 9 months ago

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how to talk to tall people ft haurchefant and lo

(insp) & individual pics under the read more

tall people hubris!!!!! get bested by someone over a foot shorter than you!!!!

#my art #selfship #haurchefant #haurchewol #wolchefant #wolnpc #haurchefant x wol #yumeship #doodle #starfallsoup #lotus x haurchefant #(also to clarify mikurinkuwu on Twitter did the original n in the replies said we can draw our ships like this! so this wasn’t my idea )#haurchelo

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gracieheartspedro · 1 day ago

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Lotus Eater | chapter 7 - 5.7k words

my main masterlist - eddie masterlist - series masterlist

previous chapter - next chapter

summary: december is just as cold and as the beer you hold at the hideout as you watch corroded coffin perform. eddie's got something that'll warm you right up.

warnings: slow burn, 18+ mdni, drinking, eddie interacting with older ladies at the bar, they get handsy and weird, reader gets jealous, gareth is a shit head, smoking cigarettes, reader is in her head (per usual), reader's dad gets a name, brief mention of drug dealing, revelations, driving after one beer, saving some warnings due to possible spoilers so tread lightly <3

a/n: welcome back team! we are getting there. promise. but then again, you all signed up for a slow burn. so let it simmer. let me know your thoughts!

You had spent most of the month of December waiting tables, going to school, and finalizing your college application essay.

And in your free time, helping Eddie rehearse being in front of a crowd.

He and a couple of guys from Hellfire decided it was a great idea to start a band. Gareth was already in the band club, playing the drums. Jeff said he could fiddle around with a bass, and Grant informed everyone that he could play guitar at a beginner level.

A perfect start to a kind of terrible band.

They call themselves Corroded Coffin, and they will blast your ears off with heavy riffs and ear-piercing vocals.

You knew Eddie could play the guitar. You just did not entertain the idea too much. But as soon as you watched him tap along the spine of the red and black electric guitar he so sweetly nicknamed, you knew you were in for it.

Because while you knew you were attracted to the guy, you did not expect to feel the heart-pounding lust you experienced when you watched him play a shitty metal song. With his instrument hanging low, right over his crotch. You never expected his fingers to move so quickly, all the while, making it look so easy.

So, you spent your free afternoons held up in Gareth’s garage, plugs wedged in your ears to prevent any hearing loss as the guys practiced the three songs Eddie wrote for them to play. In between arguments about ability to perform, you would manage to get your homework done. It was just like being at home, but instead of fights between your parents about not having sex anymore, it was Jeff yelling at Gareth for not keeping the tempo.

Somehow, Eddie had gotten them a gig at a local dive bar called The Hideout, and it was becoming all they talked about. It was a dingy place you had no business going to, so you never did. They promised the guys a set every other Tuesday, playing for a crowd of rowdy drunks. It was Eddie’s dream come true.

“Okay, sunshine,” Eddie snaps, gesturing for you to look up from your math notebook. “Need your eyes. Act like you're excited to watch us.”

You shake your head, getting more comfortable in the lawn chair Gareth so proudly set up for you. “Right. I’m a great actress, this should be fun.”

“Or you could actually enjoy it,” Gareth joked, fiddling with his drum sticks, “We aren’t terrible.”

Eddie’s eyes shoot back to you, a playful smirk on his face. He knows you are about to give Gareth a comeback worth laughing at, but instead, you shock him by just nodding in agreement. That almost makes him laugh more.

The song begins after a countdown, and suddenly, you are putting on a show just like them.

Eddie was becoming a bit too persuasive.

When you told him you were off on Tuesday night, he was pounding down your door at 7 and begging you to join him and the guys at their first gig. When the promise of free beer was posed, you still rejected.

“Sunshine, please,” He grabs your hand as you wedge yourself in the crack in the door, preventing your intoxicated mother from hearing his pleas. He dressed himself up extra for the occasion, even repainting his nails black and smudging what looked like black eyeliner under his lash line. “I need my good luck charm.”

The expression, the begging, the referring to you as a ‘good luck charm’... it got you.

You piled into the van with him after changing into some light-washed jeans and a slightly torn black sweater (the one he referred to as ‘metal’ when you first wore it) and set out for the bar that was less than 10 minutes away.

Five drunk old guys cheered on Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin while you sat at the end of the bar, training one light beer Eddie managed to snag for you. You watched as they fumbled through their first couple of numbers, the lighting in the bar shielding the glares the boys passed to one another.

Hearing Eddie’s singing voice in a microphone was much different than hearing his belting in the car. It’s much more restrained when he’s pouring himself into a microphone, as opposed to the carefree singing he does just for you.

When he really starts to get into it, it’s already their last song. You notice a shift in his behavior as he sings the cover to one of his favorite Metallica songs, his hips wiggling a bit as he strums erratically. You cannot help the wide grin that spreads across your face as he gives his all to the performance.

As he finishes up, he thanks the crowd and pulls the guitar off his shoulders. You turn around to take a couple of sips of the beer, wincing as it goes down your throat. You notice two older women at the end of the bar, eyeing the stage as the band started to clean up their instruments and drag their amps out to Eddie’s van.

You take a couple more sips of beer, not really feeling anything. The women you spotted are slamming back shot after shot, giggling every time they make twisted sour faces at one another. You smile, thinking about how nice it would be to have a girl friend like that. It makes your stomach sink thinking about Kacey and what she’s probably doing right now.

You are pulled out of your daydream by a hand settling on your shoulder.

“What did you think?” Eddie asks, his eyes a bit hazy but still focused and trained on yours.

Your lips turn upward, tilting your beer to him. “You’re a natural up there.”

He scoffs, pulling the barstool next to you out and sliding on. He leans over the counter, gesturing to the bartender to get him a beer, which he does without another word.

“You don’t have to lie to me, sunshine. I look to you for honesty.”

You had to admit, it was nice to hear that he thought you were truthful. Little did you know that you had been watching the way his hips gyrated a bit too hard while he was on stage. Your mind is conjuring up images of what he would look like on top of you.

You somehow manage to look at him from his side profile, even with the warmth filling your lower stomach. “It wasn’t great. But you had great stage presence and you looked hot-”

You cannot be that honest, now.

His eyes shoot over to you as you stare past him, trying to reel yourself back in. But somehow, the light beer you ingested still makes you a bit unfiltered. You curse Eddie for even getting you one.

“Your outfit is very rockstar.”

That’s what you went with instead.

You aim your eyes forward after it slips out, trying to avoid the snickering Eddie does between his clenched teeth. He’s so close you can feel his breath against the side of your face.

“You were going to say something else,” He whispers over the loud jukebox that has occupied the silence since Corroded Coffin stopped playing. You look at the women nearby again, and they are both shooting you and Eddie some glances. You sit rigid, unsure how to respond to Eddie. You needed to get him off topic and disregard your previous statements. You were good at redirection, dodging his every poke and prod.

“We have an audience,” You murmur, picking up your beer and twirling the remainder of the liquid at the bottom. Eddie takes note of where your eyes land, seeing the ladies across the room. He gives them a head nod, his eyebrows raised and fingers tapping against his glass. They giggle like they are impressed by him, which throws you off.

They were probably 20 years his senior. Neither had a ring on their fingers, and both had hair that could probably reach the ceiling with the amount of hairspray used. Their tops were low-cut, enough to show off their assets. The one you can tell is more into toying with him, gently tilting her head at him to join them at the end of the bar.

You shoot Eddie a glance, and you can tell he is shamelessly staring at the girls, basking in the attention he rarely gets from girls at school.

You should know better at this point. Eddie is not your property, only a close friend who gets on your last nerve. But the nagging, blooming crush you kept pushing to the back of your mind was creeping up into your throat. It burned watching him shift in his seat, almost anticipating getting up.

“You should buy her a drink,” You quip, tapping your glass on the wooden tabletop. His eyes shoot towards you, confused at your almost-demand.

“Why?”

You should not have to give him an explanation as to why he should go flirt with the women, but here you are. He has these glassy puppy eyes when you look over at him, his shoulders slouching a bit. He looks disappointed, like he’s letting you down.

You clear your throat, looking down at your chipped polish, “Because you’re single and she seems interested.”

He shakes his head, nudging you with his shoulder. His foot is already on the ground, “But I am sitting here with you.”

You manage a smile, heart shattering a bit, “I’ll survive without you. Go get her, Munson.”

Part of you wants him to stand his ground and stay with you, but he doesn’t. He simply shrugs, sliding off the barstool and bounding towards the women like his life depended on it. You clench your teeth, watching him lean between them and their full chests.

Within two minutes of observing, they are feeding him shots like they are candy. You sigh heavily, turning to see if any of the other guys are around to possibly ride home with. You were not getting in a car with Eddie if he was drinking.

Gareth is grabbing one last bag, tossing it outside with all his strength. You plant your feet on the ground, accepting that you would have to beg him to give you a ride back home. As you approach him, he looks past you to see what Eddie was getting up to and why you were alone.

“Your other half seems occupied,” He smiles, his floppy curls wet against his forehead still. Your stomach rolls as he refers to Eddie like that. You shake your head out of instinct, rejecting that label completely.

“He’s not my other half,” You warn, crossing your arms over your chest. He grins even more at that, his eyebrows wiggling.

“Sure, he’s not.”

All words escape you the moment he says it. Your mind starts to race a million miles a minute.

Was it obvious to other people? Were you making yourself that transparent?

You made sure not to feed into Eddie’s usual teasing as much, so it was impossible for Gareth to suspect such a thing.

But was it really that egregious? You were always with him, walking with him between classes and riding shotgun with him every day.

And when he was not around, he was all you thought about. It had happened so quickly that you never fully sat with the fact that Eddie Munson may be your best friend.

And that was jarring. Unexpected.

Gareth giggles when he renders you speechless, placing his hand gently on your shoulder.

“You are cute when you’re faced with obvious realities, my dear,” He asserts, squeezing a bit tighter. You cannot help the heat that creeps up to your cheeks, the weight of his hand feeling heavier.

You needed to get home and take a cold shower. It was suddenly a million degrees in this bar.

“Can you take me home?” You deviate; your voice is kind of shaky.

Gareth scrunches his nose, glancing out the window of the bar. “I would, but my car is filled to the brim with idiots and instruments.”

You exhale, lulling your head forward before rolling your neck. If you put yourself in this situation, you would have to weasel your way out. Gareth gives you a sympathetic look, his hand slowly drifting down to your bicep and pressing against your muscle.

He creeps forward a bit, crowding your space. You feel yourself tense up as he leans down towards your ear, “Why don’t you use these muscles and go get your man back?”

When his body shifts away from you, your heart is practically beating out of your chest. You open your mouth and nothing comes out, unsure how to respond to him. His steely blue eyes search your face before his mouth twists up into a smile. He drops your arm and steps a couple of feet away.

You inhale sharply when the air around you isn’t occupied by his cologne, “Not my man.”

His smile never fades as he steps a bit towards the door. “Keep telling yourself that, beautiful.”

And he’s gone. Your last hope of getting out of here at a decent time. With your arms still crossed, you twist around, seeing Eddie getting kissed on by the woman with the blacked-out arm tattoo. He has a cherry dangling from his mouth, and you swear on everything good, you are practically gushing in your underwear. His tongue extends, grabbing the red fruit and folding back into his sickly wet lips.

Your heart stills as he fiddles with the stem inside his mouth, showing the women he can tie it with his teeth and tongue. When his tongue comes out again, you force your sleeves up your arms.

You could practically scream with frustration, but instead, you channel that anger in the bounce of your step. You wanted to be home so you could scream into your pillow about how obvious you have made your crush on Eddie to everyone. And to possibly deal with the ache between your legs.

You walk over to the now inebriated man you arrived with, tapping his shoulder. The woman to his right looks at you first, her eyes piercing your skin like a million tiny needles. You try not to look at her, only looking at the back of Eddie’s head as the lady to his left is trying to suck on his neck. He is so distracted by throwing back another shot down his throat, he doesn't even feel you pressing against him. You feel your irritation bubbling.

“Eddie!” You yell, smacking his back with an open hand. He jumps, his body whipping around to face you. He is off balance, the ladies grabbing onto his arms to keep him upright.

You are so fucked.

“Heey,” He drags out, eyes dazed and unfocused, “Sunshine, these are my new friends!”

He wraps his arms around the women, pulling them into his side. You want to hurl, watching them place their hands on his stomach and chest. You had to put your foot down, not liking this version of Eddie at all. It made you want to crawl away with your tail between your legs, but that fire that Gareth lit inside you gasses you up just enough to keep you going.

“Very nice,” You bite, grabbing his hand and tugging him away, “We have school in the morning.”

“Aren’t you Jack’s daughter?” One of them presses, her curious eyes scanning your entire body. When you hear your Dad’s name, your chest starts to burn.

Of course, these women know your Dad. He’s every bar’s favorite patron, spending his entire paycheck on beer and pool. You can tell she notes the annoyance in your eyes as Eddie stumbles a bit towards you, his hand finding your waist. The moment he is out of their sphere, you breathe a sigh of relief. You are halfway to getting him out of here.

“Unfortunately, he is.” You hold your head high as Eddie’s hand slides up your back to your shoulders and then back down to your waist. He is probably just using you for balance, but there’s something in the way his hands feel around your upper body that sends you into panic. Why is he rubbing your back in front of these women he was obviously trying to impress?

The lady chortles, her drunken redness giving away her displeasure that Eddie has pulled away from them. “Well ain’t you a lucky one? Drug-dealing-daddy and rocker boyfriend.”

You feel your blood run cold. Drug-dealing Daddy?

You have no time to unpack that statement before Eddie drunkenly slurs at the women. “She’s not my girlfriend. Just my very very best friend. The very best, actually.”

You do not want to give yourself away any further to these predatory women, so you just wrap your arm around Eddie’s midsection and pull him closer. “Let’s go?”

His eyes are practically glazed over as he pats right above your ass. “Let’s go, baby cakes.”

The women scoff as you two head towards the door, leaving behind the cherry stem Eddie tied skillfully on the bar top.

Convincing Eddie to give you the keys was a pretty easy experience since he was drunk off his ass. He could hardly walk across the gravel, so you resorted to locking your arm around him and picking his pocket. When you walk him to the passenger side, he starts laughing. You do not listen to his mindless mumbles, helping him into the bucket seat you usually settle into.

“I don’t like you driving me around.”

You pull out of the parking lot, easing your foot on the gas. “Well, I don’t love the idea of you driving drunk.”

Driving felt almost foreign to you. It had been months since you were behind the wheel, and with your nerves already shot, you were hardly going above 20 miles per hour. You catch a glance at the clock and wince. 12:24.

You feel your anxiety kicking up with every passing moment, so you look down between Eddie’s feet, looking for your water bottle. That would ease the constriction you feel in your throat.

“Can you grab me my water bottle?”

He looks at you with a playful glint, still messing with the heat settings on the dashboard. “What’s the magic word, sweetheart?”

You curl your fingers around the wheel, trying not to lose your shit on him in that instant. You hum, beating your fingers as you turn onto the back road that leads to your homes. “Please.”

He leans down between his legs, almost knocking his head into the dashboard. He starts to giggle, “Here you go.”

You snatch it, not even saying thank you, as you pop the cap and start to take shallow swallows. He watches you with curiosity, something that you disregard as you take a deep breaths. When you close it back up, you hand it over to him to put back.

“Can I have a few sips?” He asks, already opening it back up to take a swig.

You start pressing yourself closer to the wheel so you could see better, but also wedge the wheel into your chest to have some pressure there. Trying to watch both sides of the dark street, not wanting any critter to jump out and surprise you, was also consuming your brain.

Eddie tosses back some water before putting it back on the dirty floor. There’s silence for a beat, the soft hum of the radio taking over. The warm air is actually helping your situation, allowing you to relax your shoulders a bit.

You make a mental note to pull out your puffer coat tomorrow before school. Your fall jacket was not cutting it anymore. It was too damn cold.

Like usual, you feel his presence shift towards you, his eyes piercing through you.

“You know how beautiful you are, right?”

His voice splits through the main cabin of the van like a semi-truck going full speed at you. He didn't even slur when he said it.

“W-what?” You ask pointedly, sitting further back so you're fully pressed into the back of the seat. You do not risk looking over at him.

“You are so beautiful,” His voice waivers a bit at the end as he starts digging through his pockets. You still say nothing, glancing over at him briefly to watch him fiddle with his pack of cigarettes and wedge a stick between his lips. As he flicks the lighter, he continues, “I think that every time I look at you.”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

It’s hammering, not giving up, as you try to catch your breath that feels caught in your throat.

“D-drink some more water. You’re too drunk.”

It’s all you can succeed in saying. Every other word is lost on you. Thank you? You too?

“No, you are just…” He drifts off, hand cranking the window to let some of his smoke seep out. Hearing him admit such a thing right now was a kick in the gut: “You are so beautiful and smart, and I think any guy in the world would be so lucky to have you.”

You pull up to a four-way stop. Your hands are shaking, and your body is fully unprepared to fully digest such words. But the heart stopper is when you look over at him and his glassy eyes peer into yours, his cigarette dangling out the window between his fingers. Something he started doing when you told him you were sick of having his cigarette smoke directed in your face.

He reaches out, his fingers cradling your chin and his thumb softly gracing your cheekbone, “I’d be lucky to have you.”

You want to jump straight into his arms because his words feel like warm honey over your entire body. All the anxiety you felt earlier has dissipated. His touch is so gentle that it feels like a feather drifts across your cheek as you catch his eyes slipping down to look at your lips.

You hate to admit when you are wrong. That’s common knowledge at this point. But you especially hate when someone like Gareth is right.

Everyone had seen something you had not. What you assumed was just Eddie being a good guy, a good friend, was actually something a bit more this whole time.

You feel so fucking stupid.

It makes you resentful. Maybe not towards Eddie, but towards yourself. You did not deserve this.

He is leaning towards you, his cigarette flicked out the window, long forgotten. Your lips feel dry, and almost in preparation, you lick them slowly, tasting the residue of the beer you forced yourself to drink.

You do not say a word until he’s centimeters from your lips, his nose practically brushing against your cheek. You can smell the liquor on his breath, and that is enough to sober you up to the reality of the situation.

You shake your head, almost to shake his confession out of the pits of your psyche. “You’re drunk, Eddie.”

His eyebrows flicker, and he pulls back from you. You immediately regret saying it because his hand no longer warms your frigid cheek.

“I’m drunk,” He confirms, slapping his thigh with the hand that just held your cheek, “and I’m telling you something important.”

His demeanor shifts, the annoyance painted across his face evident. And here you go, itching to put your foot in your mouth.

You let your foot off the brake, creeping through the empty intersection.

“Yeah, very important,” You brush off, trying to sound light about the situation. But your chest starts to ache again. This time for a different reason. “Soon you’ll be telling me you’re in love with me or something.”

You hold onto the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. You can feel the tension holding the air hostage. You want to take a deep breath, but you do not dare. Your chest may burst open.

Eddie unsurprisingly does not let up on the topic, especially since you baited him with the latter half of your statement.

“I do really like you,” His voice is gravelly, worn out almost.

You turn into the neighborhood, wanting nothing more but to jump out of the moving vehicle and let it drag you underneath. You felt so unworthy of such a divulging topic. He was really putting himself out on the ledge, and while you felt the same, the declaration was stuck in the back of your throat.

You pull into his driveway, parking extremely crooked, “Okay… Eddie, we can’t-”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie stops you, flashy rings swiping across the darkness and catching the porch’s light, “It’s okay, I can like you and you don’t have to like me back.”

It’s right there. On the very tip of your tongue. But it’s settled, embedded in the deepest crevices. “Eddie..”

He shakes his head, his drunkenness turning into pure sincerity and innocence. He looks so dopey, but so sure of himself. “Cause like… I have liked plenty of people, and they never return that energy, y’know? Like friendships, crushes, hell, even my own dad.”

You pull the keys out of the ignition, catching his fixed look. His hand is picking at the holes in his jeans, pulling at the threads that hang loose. A nervous tick you had never seen him do before. But by the way his jeans look, he probably does it often.

Maybe you were completely oblivious. You were infamous for being aware, smart, and sharp. But when it came to the way Eddie treated you, it seemed like everyone caught on before you. The battle between wanting to be on the mark with everything in your life and surrendering to the unknown was intimidating.

The unknown was dark and sometimes meek. But it could also be a light at the end of a menacing tunnel. Consuming at first, but in the end, freeing.

Eddie’s seat is the only part of the interior that is lit up by the streetlight, highlighting him from above and making him look like that light. That hope.

“I do like you, Eddie,” You whisper, your pride completely escaping you.

His head shoots up, his long frizzy hair almost entering his mouth due to how fast he moves, “You do?”

“Yeah, I do,” You confirm, shakingly handing him back his keys. You could hardly mutter any more elaboration on the topic, so you two just stare at each other like two idiots.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?”

You smile at that, the suspense of the situation dissipating at his words. “No, but you should go inside and start on that. We have school in six hours.”

You don’t think six hours can erase everything, but somehow it does.

You are dragging yourself out of the front door, bag slung over your shoulder, eyes still heavy with sleep. You did remember grabbing your winter coat, so the crisp morning does not bite as much as before. Eddie matches your energy, but he is completely unshowered with black eyeliner still spread across his lower lash line. It’s the most tired you've ever seen him. But his appearance makes your stomach roll with excitement. A silent anticipation that your feelings are known and not a burden in the deepest parts of your heart.

He doesn’t say anything to you as you pull the passenger door open and climb in. He looks at the positioning of his seat, pulled forward and straight up and down.

“Did you drive last night?”

He doesn’t remember?

You swallow, looking at him from the seat he resided in only a few hours before. “Yeah, you don’t remember?”

He looks up at you, confused and a bit irritated. He grabs the lever and jerks his seat back to accommodate his long, sprawling legs. “I don’t recall anything after you told me to get those old ladies some drinks.”

You feel queasy, like you are on a boat and somehow cannot get off. Your fingers twitch against your jeans, nervously watching him get in and slam his door shut. Your sleepy eyes reflect your disappointment, but Eddie is too tired to notice and press the subject.

The drive to school is quiet.

During your first couple of periods, you are distracted. Too caught up in your own reeling thoughts as you replay everything Eddie said to you the night before. How soft and sweet he was when you finally confirmed your feelings. The way his hand felt pressed against your cheek.

And the statement the one older lady passed at you was also making your spiral.

Drug-dealing Daddy?

You knew your Dad used to be in the business, but he always told you and your Mom that he was done with that shit. It did not bring in enough money. It was too dangerous anymore.

You then remember what he said on Thanksgiving. About Eddie 'slinging' drugs. Was he just saying that to get under your skin? Or maybe he did not want you around his competition?

You want to interrogate him, get to the bottom of everything, but he is known to lie and cheat his way out of uncomfortable situations. Unless he was putting you directly in danger, you are better off leaving it alone. Blindly believing him was something you were accustomed to. You had done it your whole life.

You totally forgot you were supposed to stop by the guidance counselor’s office earlier in the morning. That is, until your counselor was rushing towards you with a notepad and pen as you walked to lunch. She hollers your name, halting all your movements as you spin on the balls of your feet.

“Hey, you didn’t stop by this morning.” Her cheery nature is a bit too much for your muddled mind, but you force a smile. “Everything okay?”

You nod immediately, blowing off her concern. “All is good, Miss Richardson. I just overslept this morning and was almost late. I was going to stop by to see you during lunch.”

You weren’t, but that seems to ease her mind. Her shoulders relax as she pulls out a stack of envelopes, extending them your way.

“I got three of your applications filled out. Your essay was so excellent I did not even bother giving you any notes,” She explains, that almost fake-looking grin taking up her entire face, “Northwestern. Purdue. And Indiana State.”

You wince as she lists your options. The only ones you are putting effort into getting into. Northwestern was the dream, and you have a real shot at getting in. The affordability is the main concern with there and Purdue, but you were sure you could land some great scholarships. You were not giving yourself any other choice. You had the grades, the drive, and apparently, a really good entry essay.

Thinking about college had taken up most of your schooling career since it was a way out. But lately, you have been so wrapped up in other feats that you were starting to worry you were not giving it enough of your energy.

You nod, taking the three sealed envelopes. “Thanks, Miss Richardson. I appreciate all your help.”

Her hand reaches out to your bicep, a comforting squeeze unlike Gareth’s last night. “No problem, sweetheart. I know you’re going to flourish wherever you get in.”

Please let it be one far enough away from here, you think to yourself.

You keep your head down, weaving your way to the Hellfire table for your usual loud lunch 'performance' from the group. They were pretty great entertainment.

You step towards the chair right next to Gareth, which is also right beside Eddie’s end seat. A hand catches your shoulder. You peer back, seeing those dirty blonde curls first.

“Did you guys make it home without incident?” Gareth asks, pulling your chair out for you. You roll your eyes, dropping your backpack on the ground next to you.

You plop down in your chair, still making annoyed eyes at him. “I had to drive us.”

Gareth’s eyebrows raise as he sits down in his cracked plastic chair. He looks surprised.

“Eddie let you drive his van?”

“I gave him no choice,” You explain, not even paying attention to the fact that Eddie had already claimed his spot right next to you. You can always feel his energy nearby, but for some reason, you did not catch on.

“What did you two talk about on the way home?” Gareth presses, jolting his head up into a nod aimed towards Eddie’s seat. You know he’s trying to see if you actually talked about the unspoken crush you harbored that he somehow knew about. You were pretty sure Gareth was the only one who saw through you and Eddie’s shit.

When you realize Eddie’s next to you, you jump in surprise at the way his piercing dark eyes watch you and Gareth interacting.

Eddie’s voice is still grumbly as he speaks, “I don’t remember.”

For some reason, you cannot peel your eyes away from his. It’s almost like he is trying to telepathically pull your memories out of your brain from your eyeballs. You can feel your entire body tense, the usual warmth you feel from Eddie’s gaze being replaced with stone-cold fear.

It’s one thing to confess your feelings to someone in private, in the dark of night, with no one around.

But this is in front of an audience. Because at this point, there are five other guys filling up the fold-up lunch table, and their eyes are glued to you and Eddie.

You gnaw on the inside of your lip and try to avert your eyes, giving yourself away immediately.

“You were just drunk and rambling.”

Eddie does not like the response you’re giving, crossing his arms like a stern father. “Rambling about what?”

“Music.”

Lie.

He leans in, his arms not unfolding. The tension could probably be felt from a mile away. “Music?”

You look across the table at Jeff, his eyes widened like he’s watching the newest Star Wars movie. You could not give a full confession to the entire cafeteria. Not because it would embarrass you, but it may also embarrass Eddie. He may not have wanted you to know about the crush he harboured for you. He may get mad that you exposed him in front of everyone.

And, well, yeah, you would be embarrassed, too.

You have to find a way to redirect everyone. A lie so stupid that you can believe it yourself.

“You wouldn’t stop talking about how excited you were for Heart’s new album.”

Eddie’s cheeks heat up, getting redder than the apple sitting on Jeff’s tray. The entire table starts laughing maniacally at the revelation.

You try to giggle along with the rest of the guys, but Eddie’s face does not reflect pleasure in the conversation turning on him. He eyes you suspiciously as the rest of the guys joke about covering ‘Barracuda’ at their next show at the Hideout.

He gets even closer to you, his face right under your nose, pretty much. “I look to you for honesty, remember, sunshine?”

Shit.

divider: @saradika-graphics <3

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#HERE YOU GUYS GO!!!!!!#i'm so proud of this chapter #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson stranger things #fic: lotus eater #gracieheartspedro

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