#now what lie should i spin on my boss

[daeluin]

y encima me pierdo el tren x dos cuadras 😣

[miniseokminnies]

you don’t own me —- c.sc

☆ pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader ☆ genre: club owner!seungcheol, established relationship ☆ wc: 1.2k ☆ warnings: 18+ MDNI, possessiveness, jealousy, dom!seungcheol, toxic relationship, spit kink, fingering, unprotected sex (that's a no no), multiple orgasms, creampie, name calling (slut), public sex, exhibitionism

Choi Seuncheol was not a possessive man, or so he says, however, the grip on your thigh told you otherwise.  The comments he made minutes ago dragged the silence on and you wished that he would drive faster.  If he needed space, by God you would make him regret it.

“Listen…” Seungcheol started when he was putting the car into park, unfortunately for him you were out of his grasp and out of the car as soon as it stopped moving.  He groaned and slumped in his seat. It was going to be one of those nights.  Plastering on your favorite smirk, you approached the door with your boyfriend trailing behind you.  

Your favorite bouncer smiled at you as you pushed past the entrance, you are always on the list so no need to check your ID.  He chuckled to himself as you sauntered in, knowing exactly what kind of night you were trying to have.  

“What did you do this time, boss?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

“Mingyu just do your job” Seungcheol muttered and the taller man held his hands up in surrender, still smiling.

Choi Seungcheol was not a jealous man, but he knew when something belonged to him. Watching you, his girl, from across the bar flirting with some stranger just because he made some off handed comment about needing space. His grip on his glass tightened, almost sending shards splintering across the freshly waxed bar top. 

You didn’t look at him as he approached, pretending to be interested in the one sided conversation this poor guy was trying to have with you. He was nothing to you besides a pawn in the little games Seungcheol and yourself like to play. 

Seungcheol pushed past the crowd and gripped on to your seat, spinning it towards him. His eyes were wild and you knew you had riled him up. He didn’t even give you a chance to smirk before taking hold of your chin, 

“Open up,” he commanded, not even looking at you. Confused, you did as you were told. Without breaking eye contact with the guy you were previously talking to, Seungcheol spit into your waiting mouth. “Swallow that for me,” he gives you two slightly stinging pats on your cheek. 

Choi Seungcheol knows when something belongs to him, and everyone else should too. 

With that Seungcheol turned and didn’t look back at you.  He knew he had you in his grasp now, he knows how to play your game and he beats you at it every time.  Wordlessly you rose from your chair and followed him into the hallway where the bathrooms were.  He turned to face you hearing your footsteps in the quieter secluded area.  

“You always ruin my fun” you blurted into his face, he cocked an eyebrow in response,

“Oh really?” he smirked, “I found it fun” he moved closer to you, putting one hand on the wall beside your head. 

“Well..” you avoided his piercing eyes, “I didn’t…” you knew the comment was in no way convincing. 

“Oh really?” he trailed his other hand across your soft skin, getting higher and higher.  You feel his calloused fingers drag up the length of your thigh and under your skirt. His fingers reach the apex of your thighs and you know you can’t lie anymore, “Doll, you’re so wet,” he shoves his hand on the wall into your hair and briefly massages our clit through your soaked panties.  You have to bite your lip to stop a moan from escaping your lips at the sensation.  

A whine of protest does tumble out of your mouth when Seungcheol removes the hand under your skirt.  He pulls you by your hair off the wall and positions you in front of him and pushes you into the men’s bathroom straight ahead.  Once the two of you were through the door you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.  The visual of yourself being utterly controlled by the man behind you filled your body with heat that rushed straight to your core.  

Seungcheol pushed you further into the bathroom before letting go of your hair and moving to check the stalls.  He all but punched each door open before returning to you. 

“Turn around,” you did as you were told once more and he wasted no time bending you over the sink in front of you, “Teasing me all night has consequences” he rasped, pulling your underwear aside.  He almost moaned aloud seeing your glistening cunt on display like this.  He easily slipped two fingers in, surprising you.  You whined at the feeling of being filled, wishing for more.  Seungcheol sets a swift pace, you know he is nervous for someone to interrupt even if he would never admit it.  “You like that?” he watches his fingers disappear and reappear.  

“Yes, oh my God” you mewl. 

“That’s right, you love my fingers,” he punctuates his sentence by adding a third finger, making you shiver with pleasure, “but you’re a slut for my cock, isn’t that right?” You nod in response, not quite able to form a response.  He pulls his fingers almost all the way out of you, “No you use your words with me” 

“Y-yes, I’m your slut” you choke out.  He shoves his fingers into the spot that drives you crazy, coaxing you to the edge.  

“That’s what i thought,” you were starting to become overcome with pleasure, “You can cum now, Doll” with his permission you let go, white spots overtaking your vision.  You cry out from the intensity of the orgasm.  

You feel Seungcheol pull his fingers out and you hear his belt hit the floor.  He pulls his pants down just enough.  You hear him spit into his hand and he grunts giving his cock a few pumps.  Lining himself up he uses the reminisce of your orgasm as lube.  Sliding in easily he gives you a few moments to adjust to the difference between his fingers and his thick cock.  

He begins thrusting into you, setting yet another bruising pace.  Despite the swiftness of his movements you could feel every inch of him each time he pulled out and slammed back into you, you couldn’t control the noises coming out of your mouth nor the squelching of your pussy each time.  

“Doll” he grips your hair in his hand and pulls you up slightly, “Look at you, getting fucked in the bathroom of my club,” he smiles wickedly between thrusts, “Look at yourself getting fucked, don’t forget who you belong to.” You look at your own fucked out face and the face behind you twisted with pleasure.  You feel a second orgasm creeping up on you.  Seungcheol is approaching the edge as well, judging by the fact that his hips are sputtering and he can barely manage to keep quiet anymore. “Gonna cum” he grunts. 

White hot spurts of him begin to paint your walls white as the coil in your stomach snaps.  You take all of it, like the good slut you are.  Seungcheol’s hips still, the two of you breathing heavily for a moment.  Slowly, he pulls out of you, staring at his seed spilling out of your perfect cunt.  He takes a moment to push it back in with his fingers as best he can before sliding your underwear back into place and putting his fingers in your mouth.  You clean them off greedily.  

“Hold on to that for me,” he pats your clothed cunt twice, “I will check when we get home later.”      

[solomons-finest-rum]

Welcome back! I have been enjoying your writing but never sent you request before. Would you write maybe Alfie and a younger reader and he likes her. He wants to marry her but she is not ready so he tells her he would wait forever and it's really sweet and patient. something like that I don't know. you can decide if you like it. Thank you!

“Libretto” — (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)

SUMMARY — Age difference between you be damned, Alfie was quite happy to wait for you forever.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you so much for the request! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ Feedback is always much appreciated.

WORD COUNT — 1,678

Masterlist

The first time you met Alfie Solomons was purely an accident. At least, you had to lie and swear to the police that it had all been an accident, if only in order to wriggle yourself out of getting arrested.

Now, had you known the man you nearly ran over with your brother’s car was the gangster boss of Camden Town, you could have been persuaded to drive a little more carefully. Especially since the car had been “borrowed” as well.

But, of course, how could you have known? Which was precisely the reason why the first words you uttered to the man were:

“Watch where you’re fucking going!” 

All due credit to Alfie Solomons, he couldn’t have been more shocked.

Now, you have to understand that a man like Alfie Solomons, a particularly dangerous man like Alfie Solomons, usually wasn’t shocked by much. It was not every day, however, that he met a girl with eyes so full of rage, driving a fancy Bentley so obviously outrageous and most likely stolen. It was more than enough to get his interest.

“Well?!” you shouted again as you got out of the car. 

It wasn’t until two police officers approached you, however, that you changed your tune. Immediately spotting your confusion, it was time for Alfie to enter the game.

“Alright, Mr. Solomons?” one of the policemen asked, feigning concern, though both of them were so obviously in Alfie’s pocket that they would have arrested you on the spot—had Alfie still not been so mesmerised by your outburst. And so, to your astonishment, they simply awaited his orders.

To Alfie’s absolute delight, you tried your best not to show how scared you were at that moment, so Alfie took his sweet fucking time before saying:

“Right, gentlemen, thank God you’re here, ‘cause there I was, mindin’ me own business, yeah, an’ there she comes, driving like the Devil’s on her tail, hair a mess—!”

“I beg your pardon, my hair is not a mess!”

“Right now it is, yeah.”

“No, it is not!”

“Are ya suggestin’ I should lie about what I saw, Miss?”

“So you… want us to arrest the lady, sir?” one of the policemen interrupted that exchange, incredulous at the interaction between you and Alfie. 

It served Alfie right, however, since his reputation had always been one to take care of the women in his community. As things were between him and the law, that charity probably remained the only thing between him and the noose.

“Nah, ‘course not,” Alfie waved his hand dismissively. “She’s clearly in a hurry, ain’t ya, luv?” Alfie asked you, with a smirk so devious you felt your cheeks going hot.

“Yes,” you said meekly, then saw Alfie make a face to encourage you to keep going. To spin the tale. 

“I… You see, it’s my grandmother,” you said smoothly and Alfie’s smirk only grew. “That’s my brother’s car, he let me borrow it to fetch the doctor. It’s consumption, you see. Overtakin’ her as we speak.”

As the cherry on top, you stifled a fake sniff.

“Now you see, gentlemen, it’s a case of utmost emergency!” Alfie shouted, waving his cane about and obviously taking great pleasure in participating in your lie. “Thank you for your service, lads, there ya go.” 

As the policemen gladly accepted a not-so-discreet bonus to their payment, you saw your chance and started to get back to the car.

But you thoroughly underestimated Alfie’s game.

“There now, I’ll drive ya, luv, you can never be too careful in these parts,” he said and quickly, quicker than you anticipated for the man, he made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.

“Wouldn’t want any more accidents on the way, now would we, luv?” Alfie grumbled as he promptly handed you his cane and proceeded to fumble with the breaks and the accelerator as if he was trying to tame the car, not run it.

“There we go,” he announced as the engine sputtered and roared and you two sped along the street in a no less reckless manner than you had been driving before.

“Watch out!” you shrieked as Alfie almost drove straight into a flower cart on the corner.

“Don’t worry, luv, I know the way!” Alfie replied, then made a sharp turn towards London Bridge.

“You do?!”

“Right, not exactly, no, but it’s plain as day you’re not from Camden, luv.”

“What gave it away…” you sniped. 

“Now, don’t get cocky, right, ya still almost ran me over an’ I have to tell ya, luv, that takes balls, right! ‘Cause as things stand, the bounty for me is as high as they go.”

You paled at the notion and when Alfie glanced at your expression in between the turns, he roared with laughter.

“Naaah, luv, don’t be like that! Just pullin’ your leg.”

“Very funny.”

“I like to think so, yeah.”

Obviously too pleased with himself to notice, Alfie missed you paying close attention to the cane you were still holding. It was definitely heavy and so well-used that you had trouble distinguishing what used to be the shape of its head.

“Right, seein’ as you almost ended me on my own bloody street, luv, you might as well give me your name,” Alfie interrupted your musings, not too pleased about your close inspection of his personal belongings (even though the contradicting bastard gave it to you for self-keeping himself).

But you gave him your name regardless and he remarked he thought it pretty. When you also gave him your address, he drove you straight home and even got out first to open the door for you. You thanked him quickly for what you supposed was straight up hijacking the car, but seeing as you had done so first to your brother, you thought the deeds even. You only prayed no one would see you with Alfie through the window. You knew your sisters would never let you forget it had they seen you two together.

You couldn’t have known that wouldn’t be the last time you saw Alfie Solomons. Somehow throughout the following weeks you seemed to have more chance encounters together than the Fates could possibly allow.

He was always pleasant about it, though, and sometimes even brought you flowers. Then he started buying you lunches and somehow it turned into a little tradition just between you two. You ate lunch together every Thursday.

You weren’t stupid of course, you knew what Alfie was after, but truth be told… You wouldn’t exactly mind giving it to him.

He never outright proposed, but he hinted at marriage enough times that it became just one more piece of the regular fun little puzzle between you.

“An’ how’s my favourite girl this mornin’?” he would ask you when he met you for a stroll.

“Very well, thank you, Alfie,” you’d reply, your tone thoroughly overdone on the casual side. 

“Not too cold?”

“No.”

“Not too hungry?”

“Don’t think so.”

“So how ‘bout you marry me today, luv?”

“Oh, I can’t, Alfie!” you giggled as you looped your arm through his and let him lead you around the park. “I’m—”

“Right, let me guess,” he smirked. “Got my shirt inside out again?”

“No, the shirt is very clean today. That’s very unlike you.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

“Well, I told you not to fire your housekeeper, haven’t I?” 

“Yeah, no harm done, I offered that old bat her bloody job back,” he grumbled and you giggled again.

“You’ll thank me later, Alfie.”

“I’m sure I won’t, luv.”

“You’re one stubborn man, d’you know that?”

“Yeah, can’t say I’ve never been told that one before.”

“So why can’t I marry you today, Alfie? You promised to guess.”

“Right, how’s about you’re too cold?”

“No, the weather’s quite nice.”

“Too hot?”

“Not really.”

“Too old?”

“Close.”

“Too young?”

You paused and so did he, because he somehow sensed this time it wasn’t just a game between you two. This time it wasn’t just banter; it was real.

“Luv, if I’m makin’ you do anythin’ you wouldn’t want to—”

“No!” you interrupted that train of thought as quickly as possible and took his hand in yours. “No. It’s just that… I don’t think I’m ready to be a wife, yet.”

“Right, in what way?”

“In… In every way, I suppose. I have no idea about running a household or ironing shirts or…”

“Right, thankfully yours truly has already been told he’s a slob.”

“Alfie, this is serious!”

“Right.”

He looked at you expectantly. You still haven’t let go of his hand, which he thought was rather promising.

“I just think I’d make a lousy wife, Alfie.”

“Yeah, that’s that then, luv, right, ‘cause look at the pair of us, I’d be a real lousy husband.”

That got him another giggle out of you, which he thought might have boosted his chances a little.

“Luv, if your parents don’t approve—”

“My parents don’t give two shits, Alfie, I’m not a princess or an heiress,” you chuckled. “I have two younger sisters and two brothers, as far as my chances stand I’d be happy if I scored a baker or some sort.”

“Right, funny you should say that…”

“A front doesn’t count, you madman!”

Even though you knew you crossed a line there by the way he looked around you two, he never did anything to chastise you or show his disapproval at the revelation you just uttered at full volume. In a way, it already told you everything there was to know about the man, had his previous behaviour not been proof enough that he cared about you a great deal.

You already knew you wanted to marry him, age difference between you be damned. So what were you so afraid of exactly?

“Luv, you already know I’m happy to wait for you forever if—”

You shook your head and got on your tiptoes to kiss him mid-speech, since you already knew that a speech was coming. The answer was, with Alfie by your side, you wouldn’t be afraid of anything.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 5

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

Curtis takes your plate and empty glass. The tension thickens as your impatience mounts. You really just want to get out of here. You want to go home and wash the night off of you.

You struggle to come up with a smooth exit line so you grab your phone. You have a voicemail from Andy. You hit one to listen to it and put the speaker to your ear. It’s the typical far, call back if you’re available to come in. You really don’t feel like it but it would be a good excuse. Too bad you’re a bad liar.

You hit delete and lean your arm against the side of the couch.

“Boss calling again? Sure seems desperate.”

You look at Curtis sharply, once more frightened by his silent entrance. Your lips part as you weigh the lie on the tip of your tongue. You just want to go, no need to make it that complicated.

You stand up and squeeze your phone tight, pressing it against your skirt, “thanks for breakfast.”

“Yeah, no problem, it was good?”

“Very, uh,” you gaze around and try to wet your dry mouth, “it was nice. All of it, but I should get go–”

“I can drive you home,” he offers, “I’d hate for you to waste the money on a cab.”

“N-no, that’s… that’s fine. I couldn’t–”

“You know, you don’t have to go right away,” he gets closer, “I don’t know…” he’s right in front of you, closing you in by the couch, “I had fun, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah,” your words squeak thinly, “but I…”

“We could have a bit more,” his eyes plunge down hungrily.

“I… right,” you giggle softly, nervously, “I really think I should shower–”

“I have a shower,” he insists. “Come on, Bunny,” he reaches out to pinch a fold in your skirt, “just a little more…”

“Curtis, I… you’re a really nice guy…”

“And…” he brings his other hand up and frames your hip, his eyes stormy as he watches how he touches you, “...I got a really nice…” he urges you back until your legs touch the front of the sofa, “mouth…”

He squeezes your hips and sits you down. You find it hard to resist as his warmth swallows you and his thumbs press into you, sending a fiery twang through you. You catch yourself against the couch and gasp.

His hands quickly glide down and he bunches up your skirt in his fists. He squeezes and gives a growl. You spread your hands across the fabric to keep him from pushing it higher.

“Curtis, please,” your voice warbles, “I don’t–”

“Please,” he bats his dark lashes up at you, “I’m not ready to let you go, bunny.”

“I…”

You don’t know what to say. You’re tired, you feel dirty, and quite frankly, you’re not sure how much more you can take. More, deep down, you’re a bit scared. He’s awake now, he’s sober, he’s seen you, and you’re just waiting for him to realise what you are.

“I want a taste, bunny,” he leans forward to nuzzle your chest, “Can I…”

You’re frozen. Your fingers tingle and wiggle, your heart hammers, and your head spins. You’ve never had a guy act this way with you. Insatiable, almost desperate.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he trails a hand up to cup your chest, “Didn’t I tell you that?” He fondles you and kisses your chest through your shirt. “You want me to tell you again, you’re so beautiful, so sexy…”

He squeezes your chest and nudges your back against the couch. He bends his neck as his other hand inches up your thigh, parting it from the other. Your leg twitches and you hold your breath. Protests shriek in your head but they just won’t come out.

He flips up your skirt and you let out a pathetic noise. You clutch the pleating of your skirt and the cushion beside you. He bows and you feel his breath as he opens you up to him. You watch him, a vibrant sensation rolls over you and it’s as if you’re both trapped in your own body and watching yourself from afar.

His fingers flutter along your folds and exhales over you, his heat dampening the trim of hair along your cunt. He spreads you with his rough touch and glides his tongue between your lips. He flicks down your clit and back up, swirling around your cluster of nerves until you buck. You moan as ripples radiate from your core.

“Please…” you give one last weak plea.

“You’re so good, baby,” he speaks to your cunt, his lips tickling you, “fucking delicious, you know that?”

He spreads his tongue and tastes you, lapping as his other hand grips your side. His long thumb digs into your stomach as he holds you in place. You quiver as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks, pressure pinpointing at your most tender spot. You whine and stretch your hand over the soft hair at his crown.

He hums and delves into your more eagerly. He wiggles his head empathically as the noise of his mouth underlines your droning mewls. You sink back into the couch, almost vibrating as you’re overcome by his diligent doting.

[idlenight]

I'm curios- what are the reasons from the demo that you like hg? It can be under the cut if you want to avoid people getting spoilers!

I will use any excuse to blab about HG, you are an enabler anon.

WARNING: Public Revelations Demo spoilers (for route 4.2) under the cut

Secondary warning of a LOT of text lmao.

hgsib variable.... i am obsessed w/ u.

You are Hollow Ground. You wake up in the middle of the night because you're a little parched. You untangle yourself from your polycule to go to the kitchen and get a drink.

There, sitting on your kitchen counter, is the villain that had previously refused to show up to the meeting you invited them to and send their assistant instead. They are in full armor, you are in your robes (a little underdressed for this meeting).

They offer you a cup of your own coffee that they just made.

Personally? I would be alerting my bodyguards polycule to the intrusion. But no HG just, rolls with the punches. I respect that.

But to get into the actual nitty gritty and the Connections(tm) to sidestep, focusing on the friendly + mind conversation because that's what I saw in my run.

In the friendly conversation where sidestep takes their helm off you get so much insight into HG's relationship with their sibling.

"Believe it or not," you start, *if ((suit_terrifying) or (hgterrified))   realizing how absurd this must sound, "I do believe it will be more advantageous to work together than be enemies." "You have certainly proven that you would be a bad enemy to have," Hollow Ground admits. *if hgreveal   "And I'm glad you're being sensible about this." The smile is real, as is the relief.   *if hgmind     "I wouldn't want us to be at odds. Not now."

a boss or hunter also gets this piece of dialogue that im unwell about:

  "Oh I know exactly who would," Hollow Ground says, voice sharper than it has been so far tonight. "Lord Ember. That San Francisco fuck has been making moves on my territory. I wasn't sure if you were one of his plants until tonight."   *if hgreveal     ${hghis} ${eyes} meet yours. Certainty. You're on ${hghis} side in this.

'Certainty. You're on [their] side in this.' <- homie immediately willing to believe step is on their side because they're probably his sibling, why wouldn't they be?

With a thief step, this dialogue comes up

  "Sometimes I can't be bothered though." You stare ${hghim} down, seeing how much leeway you have with your little stunt. "With the whole research thing. Is that going to be an issue?"   "You..." Hollow Ground groans.   *if hgmind     "You really haven't changed one bit, have you?"   *elseif hgreveal     "This feels far too familiar."

and the mindtalk + being defensive:

    "So what?" Your tone matches ${hghis}, because you have never once backed down from an argument. "Are you seriously surprised?"     "I shouldn't be, you always were a little shit." The words are out, flat on the table between you, coins not heads or tails but on the edge, spinning freely.

HG's youngest sibling confirmed to have been a little shit. (this dynamic was made for River 'born to be a shithead little brother' Becker fr fr)

Although my favorite part of the mind talk is this:

  *selectable_if (protected) #"You saved me," I gasp, focusing on that. "Why?"     "You saved me," you gasp, trying to swallow the taste of blood and drowning. "Why would you do that?" $!{hghe} must have known what you were trying to do. You're not sure if Hollow Ground is a telepath, but there is some form of mental powers at play here, that you could feel. Something...     "Hell if I know," ${hghe} @{hgsv lies|lie} and you know that now. Can taste the lie, not because your minds are entangled but because you can see it in ${hghis} eyes.     *if hg_relationship = "dangerous telepath"       "I should have let you drown like last time."       "But you didn't," you retort, wiping your mouth. "You know something."     *else       "Liar," you retort, wiping your mouth.

"You don't know?" You can sense the disbelief, ${hghis} eyes narrowing. "Fuck. Of course. That makes sense. Too much sense." "No it doesn't," you protest. "Do you remember anything?" Hollow Ground leans forward, too insistent now, almost reaching out to touch. You lean back, putting space between you despite the protection of your armor. "About what?" Why are you the one being interrogated? What did you see in there? What did you feel? "Your childhood." The words land heavily, and you almost laugh. As if you were ever a child.

The way that i am obsessed with ["dialogue" he lied] in texts. ALso ugh, HG leaning forward, wanting to touch sidestep. To make sure they're real? to comfort them? to comfort themself? They want sidestep to be their sibling so bad, need it to be true.

In fact is sidestep dismisses it (our memories got entangled. it's nothing more than that), then HG begs them to answer the question anyway, and are very clearly unwilling to let it go even though they won't force the answer because they're at a disadvantage.

  #"No," I say, which is technically not a lie. "Why?"     "No," you say, which is technically not a lie. No childhood unless you count being newly decanted, fumbling your way through the world before your memory implant. "Why?"     "Because you remind me of someone." Hollow Ground looks directly at you, eyes narrowing. "Someone who I thought I had lost long ago. Someone who should be dead."     "Some people don't stay dead forever," you joke with your grimmest smile, but ${hghe} @{hgsv takes|take} it the wrong way, eagerly leaning forward.     "Could it be...?" A pause, ${hghis} fingers tapping nervously against the table. "You would have been in your early teens. There was an... attack. They called it an accident, but nobody was fooled. You had been arrested, they said you suffered an overdose. They never let us claim the body, so I always figured it was police brutality. Didn't want us to see the evidence. I never thought there was a chance that you were alive?"

You can feel the hope radiating from ${hghim}. An old wound, reopened. Someone who loved ${hghis} *if afab   little sister *elseif amab   little brother *else   younger sibling and is now hoping that ${hghe} had been wrong all along. That there is a chance there had been no death. No body. Just someone disappeared into the system for whatever nefarious purposes. Someone who might be sitting at the table across from ${hghim}. Maybe. Hope. The most powerful and addictive of drugs. *if (((amab) and (gender = "woman")) or ((afab) and (gender = "man")))   You know in your heart that it is wrong. Not just because you are a Re-Gene and never were a child. But because the child you saw in ${hghis} mind had been a @{amab little girl.|little boy.} And you never would have been. Not back then.

Hollow Ground loved their younger sibling, Hollow Ground hopes that they are wrong. They want to be wrong, they need to be. For a chance that their sibling can still be alive, sitting in front of them now, breathing.

I could go on but this is already long enough lmao. Thanks for coming to another one of my TEDtalks ✌️.

[idunnoficsorsumthing]

While you were sleeping

Bobby Nash x reader

Summary: Bobby makes a confession when he thinks you are sleeping.

Warnings: none, just a bit of fluff

The sound of the movie playing in the background as you were asleep on the couch. The laughing tape of the silly sitcom kept your subconscious awake. You knew you should open your eyes and go find your bed. Your body was too tired after the night you and the team had. You didn’t consider yourself the daredevil of the paramedics at the 118. Bobby did. Now paying the price, the shift wasn’t even over and your limbs felt like they were going to fall off, and the dull pain in your shoulder. The sound of talking from some people in the background stirred your deep slumber to wake you up. "She's wrecked.” You heard Chimney's voice in the distance. “ She was reckless.” You heard Bobby snap. Every word started to sound more clear, a sign of waking up. This also started a stream of thoughts. Recaps of Bobby being mad at you for pulling a stunt like that flooded your mind. You decided it would be best to keep your eyes shut in case Bobby wanted to give you an earful for falling asleep during the shift. “She should’ve just gone to bed.” Bobby huffed. You could hear the irritability in his voice. “Well, she’s stubborn.” Chimney argued. You heard the disappointed breath. The sound of footsteps got quieter. Someone walked away. Another pair of footsteps was heard, though these got closer. “Let’s get you to bed.” You heard Bobby say. You felt his strong arms pulling you up in his arms. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. Wake up and tell him to leave or continue on pretending to sleep.

He carefully laid you down on one of the beds. You felt the fabric of a blanket slide up till your shoulder. You were sure he hadn’t realized you were awake. “You’ve got to be more careful, honey. I love you too much to have to bury you.” He said, you felt his hand move a piece of your hair behind your ear. It finally clicked the whole time he had been yelling at you earlier wasn’t because you were disobeying. But because he was worried. For a second you almost opened your eyes. However, you knew you shouldn’t. It would ruin his confession. His footsteps got fainter, it wasn’t till you heard him walk out of the room when you opened your eyes. Goddamn. Your mind was spinning as you stared at the ceiling.

Your pretend sleep time didn’t last long. Within a half hour the station's alarm bells were going off for an emergency. You quickly race to the truck with your gear in tow. “I can tell your beauty sleep did nothing.” Buck teased as you sat next to him. You punch him in his arm in retaliation. “At Least I got some sleep.” You said, the heavy gear weighed you down, and you played the pain off with a laugh. You didn’t realize how bad of a day you were having till that alarm rang again and you realized this wasn’t the end of the shift. The truck came to a halt, and the team jumped out. You run to do your task but get pulled back by Bobby. “Are you okay?” he asked. His look was stern again. “I’m okay.” you answered which might’ve been a lie. He also didn’t believe you. “I am” you lied. He let you go.

Thank god this was the last emergency of the shift. Your shoulder was now officially starting to become a real pain. You started walking to the door with your bag on your shoulder. “Y/n, let me take you home.” Bobby said also on his way out. You let him take you home. It was way better than taking the bus. The ride towards your home wasn’t quiet. It never was that you loved talking with Bobby. He was actually very fun if he didn’t have to boss people around.

He stopped his car near your building. “Hey, can I ask you something?” you ask. He nods, giving you a smile. “ I can’t reach my fire alarm and I know the batteries are going to run out soon. Can you take it off the ceiling?” you ask him. He wouldn’t have come in if you asked him in for coffee. It would go against his morals as the captain. “ Yes of course, “ he said after hesitating. He followed you up the stairs waiting in front of your front door as you unlocked the door. He was uttering to you that you needed a better lock on your door. You let him in, and he stood tall in your living room. “You want something to drink coffee? iced tea?” you asked. He looked around your living room, spotting the fire alarm in the corner. “I shouldn’t.” he said, as he walked over to the fire alarm. You turn on your coffee machine. It wasn’t long till the aromas filled the room. “You have batteries?” he asked. He opened a random drawer in your kitchen. Probably hoping to find a junk drawer. “It’s the other one.” you said, gesturing to the one near the fridge. You get some cups out of the cupboard and turn around to see Bobby working the fire alarm. He quickly put the fire alarm back on the ceiling and returned back to you. “I should go.” He told you. Instead you moved a filled coffee cup over to him.”please stay.” you ask. You gave him a pleading look. “I’m starting to think your batteries weren’t empty.” he said, you shrug. He got close to you. “I thought you were asleep.” he said, a worry washed over you. He put his hand on your side. “ You know we can’t, right?” he said, you nodded your head. You still moved closer, inching forward waiting for him to stop you. He didn’t stop you. He pressed his lips against yours. You felt a rush of excitement as his lips moved against yours. The kiss was soft and gentle at first, but it quickly became more passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He responded eagerly, his hands pressing into your back as he deepened the kiss.

He broke off the kiss. You looked into his eyes, it showed you the man he was. Restraining himself from what he really wanted. “I should go.” He said again. You didn’t let go off him. “Stay longer,” you said, you hugged his body, and placed small kisses along his jaw while he tried to make his decision. It took a minute before he even said anything. “This is unfair.” He said: “how much longer are we talking about?” You stopped, and looked him in the eye. “How about forever?” You asked. He chuckled. He tightened his grip on you.

[moonlessmondays]

Sailing Close to the Wind|| One: Chasing Rainbows and Spinning Dreams

*takes a deep breath* *opens laptop* *blows ever so softly*

*coughs*

Hello everyone, I bet you didn't think I would ever come back to write more Downton stuff. Maybe an update from me isn't in your 2024 bingo card. Not gonna lie, I'm just as surprised as you are. I've been gone for far longer than I ever was here, but I guess, prodigal children always find their way home.

YES. This is an update. I know.

In light of the new movie announcement, I made a trip down memory lane, and was inspired by one of my old fics. Not that my writing from five years ago was ever inspiring, really. Anyway, it was supposed to be a one shot, and so I felt like I was in under no obligation to add more, but add more, I shall do.

*steadfastly ignores the 300 other cobert fanfics I am supposed to update*

To my surprise as well as yours, this one had an interesting and very polite demand for more, and honestly, if I wasn't so neck deep in law school, I would have given this a go earlier. Of course, I chose the most inopportune time -- when I'm in over my head, drowning, in bar review and prep -- to finish this piece. But whatever. It was therapeutic. I do suggest you read the prologue first, again -- here or here-- because I doubt any of you still remember this. This one's a long one that I just had to get out of my system, because studying about my country's system is the equivalent of pouring bleach all over my brain.

I would like to say as early as now however, that as I have already mentioned earlier, I am in the middle of bar prep, so the updates are probably going to be few and far in between, if at all, towards the middle of this year. Not that it's anything new where I'm concerned. But I shall endeavor to finish before the end of year or the end of the world, at least, whichever comes first.

.::.

One

Chasing rainbows and Spinning Dreams

"Can it possibly beThe future for me is you…Wait until I can tell you all my schemesChasing rainbows spinning dreamsTell me please your name”  - Tell me your name, Jose Mari Chan

The silence in the room was so loud that one could hear a pin drop – as the old adage went, anyway, – and for one brief second, Cora found herself questioning if her boss was all right in the head. Maybe she had lost her mind after all the stress and was now clinically insane. 

That, after all, was the only logical explanation to her even remotely suggesting this.

Cora looked away from her boss, wondering what she should do or say next, when her gaze met the eyes of the man on the other side of the room. Robert, that’s what Rosamund said, but Cora already knew that. There was nary a soul in this entire company who didn’t. He rarely made any appearance, but he’s never missed one company party and his name was always on everybody’s lips. 

Cora could still – though she would never say it out loud or admit it – remember the first time she had seen the esteemed Mr. Robert Crawley. It had been during her first company Christmas party. She was new, a new hire fresh from her internship, and she’d been so young and so infatuated by the piercing blue eyes that barely looked her way even once in the party. He’d been caught up, talking to the big wigs, to his sister, and their other colleagues and didn’t have time for the little Miss Americana that was Cora. Not that Cora had minded very much, she was content with sipping her wine and admiring Mr. Crawley from afar. 

He was handsome and his laugh was loud and boisterous, although hardly offensive. He spoke to Mr. Carson and his wife, Mrs. Elsie Hughes-Carson, who both worked with them at the company, like they were old friends – with respect and authority, but with clear affection. Cora could have only hoped, at that time, to be treated the same.

Now, here she was, sitting in the office of her boss, having been just told that she should marry the CEO of the company she’s working for so she can stay in London. She felt like she needed more ruminating about the “brilliant idea” of the boss in question, but she figured there wasn’t really even enough time to ruminate that. It was insane. That, in her mind, should count as a red flag right? That her boss was insane?

“Well?” Rosamund started to speak, though she looked just a little bit nervous, or anxious, or maybe it was self-realization – Cora could only hope for the last. “It’s such an unmusical way of putting things, brother.” She cleared her throat and nodded anyway. Clearly, any hopes of sanity were dashed at this point. “I was suggesting a convenient marriage with a deadline…if you’re amenable, of course.”

More here or here.

[steriotypicaloutlaw]

So, I mentioned to some friends that the song "Princess Castle" by Jazmine Bean fit post-Roba Simon quite well.

Decided to draw him in one of the outfits they wore in the music video, specifically the bloodbath scene. (Not fully happy with how his body came out, but that's okay. It took 3 days to complete either way💀)

Music video and lyrics below the cut.

[Verse 1: Jazmin Bean] Oops, I trusted someone Never again no more Oh, you wanna play house Well I'll be the daddy and you'll be the dog Is it true that you want a romance? So you're knocking on every single bitch's door It's not the way to go and Now all of us know and

[Verse 2: Jazmin Bean] Heard you're going round town Pulling heartstrings out and leaving bitches blind Making them want some more Then you're chopping all of their heads off in a line No, you're not even cute Surprised your only talent is spinning a lie I think that you should know You've got to fucking go, you

[Pre-Chorus: Jazmin Bean] Show's over, close the curtains You are not important To be honest, you're quite boring You're a dying flower, I'm the fucking florist You're the best, I love you the most You wish! You're a complete joke At least I know now To trust no bitch, no hassle A new wall put up In my Princess Castle [Chorus: Jazmin Bean] I'm a collectible, bitch What the fuck made you think you could step in my toy shop? I do not need you one bit, what do you think this is? You're excused, I'm my own boss Don't need someone to make me feel royal Collect my crown, gotta run And I'm really sorry, baby But it appears this castle was just made for one

[Verse 3: Cottontail] Ready or not Here we come You know you fucked up (yeah, you did) So you better run I'll surrender you to the knife (the knife) 'Cause you ruined my fucking life This is our princess castle Baby, you've gotta go

[Pre-Chorus: Jazmin Bean] Show's over, close the curtains You are not important To be honest, you're quite boring You're a dying flower, I'm the fucking florist You're the best, I love you the most You wish! You're a complete joke At least I know now To trust no bitch, no hassle And new wall put up In my Princess Castle

[Chorus: Jazmin Bean] I'm a collectible, bitch What the fuck made you think you could step in my toy shop? I do not need you one bit, what do you think this is? You're excused, I'm my own boss Don't need someone to make me feel royal Collect my crown, gotta run And I'm really sorry, baby But it appears this castle was just made for one

[Bridge: Jazmin Bean] Royalty is royalty Royalty is royalty Royalty is royalty Royalty is royalty

[Outro: Jazmin Bean & Cottontail] [bzzzz] Oh look, Cottontail, that fucking pest is back! Ooh! (splat bzzzz) hehehe, oh well

[soul-dwelling]

I dont know much about Bungo Stay dogs - but it seems you mentioned it went downhill too - could you explain in broad strokes what happened, I even dont care for spoilers

Excellent concept, excellent fanworks, I've enjoyed getting to read and participate in fanworks in the story--but the main manga itself stuck is not able to move its characters forward and keeps trying to turn every arc into, "I knew you would do that," "Ah ha, but I knew you would do that, so I knew to do this," "I anticipate you knew that I knew that you knew what I knew," like we're in an unfunny version of The Princess Bride.

Compelling protagonist who demonstrates the problems of back-pedaling while trying to get through trauma--who has his previously established agency and intelligence disappear not for any story-based reason but because the plot says so, hence forgetting he can use his superpowers to get out of certain messes, who is forgotten by the story...

...and upon his return he takes the path of least resistance ("I have no idea what to do, maybe the villain is right based on what I learned is his motivation, so in the middle of this war, I'll run to my boss and ask him what to do") only to get there too late, his boss is already cradling the corpse of the dead villain, and, oh yeah, the villain's grand scheme was based on a lie anyway, so what should be a tragedy is instead a farce. And speaking of...

The anime overtook the manga, despite the anime taking a hiatus so they could do the next major arc with two back-to-back seasons, thus spoiling details from the manga and rushing to finish the story...only to put up a SpongeBob "two hours later" sign as a post-credit sequence, showing that the arc isn't over, things got worse as soon as the heroes stopped the bad guy, and this arc still won't end.

And I wouldn't be so upset with this arc not ending if the manga was not on its seventh year of this arc, with one chapter per month, only for the anime to spoil what happens next in the manga and to make things worse has a post-credit sequence that spoils stuff that the manga hasn't even gotten to months after the anime ended.

Deaths only stick now and then, although some of this is a problem with details introduced far earlier in the story, such as a magic page from a book that can make anything written into it happen, so long as it adheres to the logic of a story (get it, it's clever because this is a story where every character is named after a famous fiction author so of course the magic book has to have logic like a story, when this manga already has any logic to its story thrown out the window). Speaking of deaths...

Two villains are killed off almost at the same moment...and in-story are brought back within minutes. The heroes kill the villains, wait 30 minutes, and then the villains are alive again, the heroes are caught off-guard, and now things have gotten worse. The arc just refuses to end, or let a timeskip happen so we can see how the characters have processed what has happened. And speaking of which...

The anime rushes to fit almost seven years of manga chapters into less than 25 episodes, so plot points are rushed, moments of characters' introspection are limited or rushed, and there is tonal whiplash that refuses to let the audience progress a moment ("Oh no, they're dead! Oh, they're alive again--I had zero time to process this death, so the animation, music, and acting all have zero impact because this is not like looking at a comic book page where I can look at it over and over again, the moment has passed, it was pointless, we're moving on").

Previously arcs were largely self-contained and comprised of fewer chapters or episodes, while still allowing the overall manga to progress story beats and develop characters, whereas this current ongoing and not yet done seven-year story arc feels like it alternates between spinning its wheels when we need to get a character progressing or rushing plot beats and moments of intense emotion for the characters.

The story forgets about other characters, especially military veterans in a story arc that is all about military veterans suffering from post-traumatic stress, such that their stories have had no closure over seven years of publishing even at logical moments that could be a defining moment to include that character but they are conspicuously absent even when they are supposed to be physically at this spot in the story, or turning military veterans with PTSD into villains, not as any stinging indictment against global powers perpetuating war and hence PTSD but because "my trauma made me into a villain," suggesting the trauma is the problem, not the state power that caused the trauma.

To go back to my first point, to wrap up this list: this is such an engaging concept, JoJo but their superpowers come from works of literature, and it keeps throwing great idea after great idea at you--the mafia, The Great Gatsby, Edgar Allan Poe, manhunt, vampires, time travel, light novels about detective battles and more time travel and HG Wells and Jules Verne, a spinoff manga with still-living authors like Ayatsuji, Tsujimura, and Kyogoku--and then the later manga chapters mishandle these ideas, they should have been kept to self-contained light novel stories instead of seven-year-long manga arcs, and there are too many powers going on to make it ever seem like the heroes can win. It's like a bad routine of Batman and Superman one-upping each other where neither one is going to win: a seven-year standoff--no, a seven-year standstill.

To clarify: I thoroughly enjoy just about everything up to when Gogol is introduced at the beginning of Season 4. After the Sky Casino story ends at the end of Season 4, things go downhill because time travel sword, "Oh, the villain's motivation was a lie," not ending the arc when it was the obvious stopping point, and that freaking "Two Hours Later" post-credits tease that means the damn arc is not over yet.

[pleasantspark]

Strictly Business - Chapter Two (Clarity) King Cold x Sayian! OC Genre: Romance Tropes: Part of The Strictly Business Series Warnings: Did not proof read so mistakes were made, most mistakes because I didn't sleep at the time of writing it, I literally am rushing through this because I was inspired, Hey getting inspired at 4AM does something, im gonna go to bed dnd is on see you in the morning lol. AUs Utilized: Overhaul Frieza Race Overhaul Doc Used! Please check for it here: x

The arrival of Frieza was enough to make Orion's head spin, she's been caught up with King Cold doing business that she didn't expect for Frieza to come. She looked at King Cold and bowed.

"Should I-"

"He thinks your busy my Dear, why would I ask my servant to tell him that your busy, just for you to come out?"

Orion bit her lip and looked away. The obvious class and height difference making for some awkward sexual tension. Despite what had taken place prior. She fumbled with her fingers.

"I can just tell, Lord Frieza we ONLY just wrapped up the meeting and it would be rather stupid of me to go over the time limit wouldn't you think?"

King Cold sighed, and leaned back in his throne. "Very well then. But don't expect me to be this forgiving. I'd expect you to at least visit me once and awhile, fufill that little favor every once and awhile."

Orion sighed, and nodded. "Yes King Cold."

The walk of shame down the halls of King Cold's ship was tough, especially when she bumped into Cooler...

More accurately, the run of shame. She was running out the room like she saw something she shouldn't have. Which she kind of did, but not really. Banging your boss' father isn't a tough feat to just shake off.

Granted, it wasn't banging... But eh? As she bumped into King Cold's eldest. She gasped and helped him up.

"I apologize, Sir!" She apologized profusely. Cooler chuckled.

"Ah, it is okay. Nothing's damaged, why were you running from my fathers room. If you mind me asking?" Cooler asked.

"Ah, nothing important. Just had to run to an errand." Orion attempted to lie. Cooler hummed as if to accept the lie before shaking his head.

"Oh, is that so? Why is it, I smell my father on you, hm?" Cooler probed. At that question Orion's face flushed.

"It's none of your business. I just got too close when discussing the plans with him." She defends, albeit poorly.

"Mhm, you know. You don't have to lie to me." Cooler said.

"I am NOT lying! I... I wouldn't have a reason to! We took too long for a meeting and now I went over the... allotted time, and if you excuse me, I have to see Lord Frieza." Orion said, pushing past Cooler who just chuckled and watched her ran off.

"I'm sure you do, Little Saiyan... I'm sure there was nothing between father and you, and when I find out I'm going to tell Frieza."

Frieza was impatiently tapping his foot on the floor waiting for that stupid Monkey to arrive already. He was just recently notified by his father's servant on Orion being busy. He found it completely odd how she was busy even though the meeting should be short.

He sighed at the docking bays of the ship he once called home, before hearing the footsteps of Orion, he tried to place on a mask of happiness to hide the fact he was annoyed but ultimately failed.

"You... were awfully late." He managed to get out. Orion shook her head.

"Apologies my lord, the meeting ran over it's time..." Orion apologized. Frieza scoffed.

"Your lucky I didn't kill you myself for making me wait." Frieza said coldly. Orion placed her head down in shame.

"I am sorry My Lord, it won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't. It was oddly suspicious how father had you back there for too long on a meeting that should only be around 4-5 minutes long. It wasn't even that important." Frieza thought.

It was no secret Frieza had a crush-

Or it was a secret.

Frieza had hated Saiyans for as long as he lived, and nothing would ever change that. But for some odd reason he couldn't explain he fell for a Saiyan.

He at first tried to explain it away as his hatred for them being mistaken as love. But it gradually became reality to him once he figured out he hated other men with or near her.

Even sending her to his father was enough to make the male acrosian angered. Perhaps it's the real reason why he was annoyed and slightly angered by her lateness.

"Whatever. Let's go back." Frieza would just say in response to Orion, leading her to their own pods as they drove off.

<Last Chapter >Next Chapter

[crossdressingdeath]

oh how about alaris and his boyfriends and....... 12? or 17. for the ship kiss ask game :з

(The ship kiss ask game) 12. ...in grief. 17. …to distract. Two kisses for two boyfriends, hm? Fair enough!

Alaris stared at the porcelain scattered around his feet, the crash of impact still ringing in his ears. It had been such a lovely teacup, a distant part of his mind lamented; part of a set Dorian had just bought, the sort that cost enough to make his head spin even now. He’d picked it up left-handed without thinking, and the Anchor had rewarded him with a sharp blaze of pain and a spasm in his fingers that left the cup in pieces on the floor before he could even think of trying to catch it.

Dorian set his own cup down in its saucer with a soft clink. “Are you all right, amatus?” he ventured. “You didn’t burn yourself?”

“I’m so sorry,” Alaris blurted out, tearing his eyes away from the shards of his cup. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Well, I didn’t think you deliberately threw my teacup on the floor,” Dorian said. “Can I ask what happened?” 

“My hand—” Alaris began before he could think better of it. “...slipped,” he finished lamely. The others were worried enough about him as it was; he kept catching them staring at him when they thought he wasn’t looking, whispering about him behind his back. Even now Dorian’s brow was creased in concern, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It looked wrong on him. “I wasn’t paying attention to it, I suppose,” he added.

The door opened at the same time as Dorian’s mouth, cutting off any further questions. Alaris was grateful until Bull walked in. “I heard something break,” he said, his eye roving from Dorian to Alaris to the teacup on the floor. 

“And you certainly took your time coming to check on us,” Dorian huffed. “We’re fine. Alaris just dropped a teacup.”

Bull grunted, his gaze now fixed solely on Alaris. “A teacup, huh. How’s your hand, boss?”

“I dropped it, I didn’t spill it on myself,” Alaris said. “My hand is fine, it just slipped.” He stared down at his hand as he flexed his fingers; anything to avoid meeting Bull’s eye. The big bastard could read him too well, and he was tired of awkward questions. He could still feel his pulse pounding in his hand, sending little sparks of pain up his arm with every beat. “I’m just tired, that’s all.” The best lie was the sort that wasn't a lie at all. 

“Hm.” Bull sat down on his other side, the sudden dip in the couch sending Alaris sprawling against him, and took his hand. Even the gentlest pressure of his fingers was enough to make the Anchor blaze to agonizing life; Alaris could barely yank his hand back before it made him cry out, and that was suspicious enough. “Kadan—”

“Just tired,” Alaris repeated, trying for a reassuring smile. “It’s been a long day.”

He stood, and the other two stood with him. “I think we could all do with some sleep before—” Dorian began.

“No!” For a moment the three of them just stared at each other; then Alaris cleared his throat. “No, I… don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until this is done. You two should rest, though”

He wanted nothing more than to let Bull and Dorian change his mind. He’d missed being able to go to bed with them ever since the last time the three of them were in the same place. But going to bed meant taking his gloves and coat off, and under his left glove and sleeve was the pulsing wreck of green veins and blackened flesh that was the Anchor. It would be better for everyone if he didn’t let them see it. Better to let them pretend things would be fine a little longer. And if he didn’t wake up—

…Well. If he didn’t wake up he didn’t want them to be the first to find him.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he said, praying it wasn’t a lie.

“We can stay up with you,” Dorian offered. “I’m sure neither of us would mind keeping you company…”

Alaris rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep. There’s no need for you two to wear yourselves out worrying about me.”

“Of course we’re—”

Dorian’s protests sputtered to a halt as Alaris cupped his face in his hands and cut him off with a kiss. It only took a moment for him to stop trying to speak, instead pulling Alaris closer against him, kissing him so slow and gentle that Alaris could feel tears pricking in his eyes. If this is the last time, some small part of his mind whispered, it’s at least a good one. “I love you,” he said when they pulled apart. “You know that, right?”

“I love you too,” Dorian said, only sounding a little dazed.

“Hey, any love left for me?” Bull playfully shoved his way between them, bending down to smack an obnoxiously loud kiss against Dorian’s temple. He ignored the other man’s complaints as he turned to Alaris. “Boss?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

It felt like the first time Alaris had laughed in months. He was almost disappointed when Bull silenced it by tipping his head back with a finger under his chin and kissing him. Only almost, though; one of Bull’s big hands carded through his hair, the other moving from his chin to the back of his neck, and he melted into it without hesitation. It’s a good one, he thought again.

When Bull pulled away there was something far too knowing in his gaze, but instead of saying anything he just kissed Alaris on the forehead. “I’m gonna stay here, actually,” he said. “Keep you company. Dorian?”

“Why not?” Dorian flopped back down on the couch, lounging against the arm. “We can make a party of it!”

“Why not,” Alaris echoed.

In a few hours it would all be over, one way or another. But for now Alaris could settle back down between Bull and Dorian and let himself forget what was to come.

[darkphoenix07]

When your boss has a little surprise for you in his cabinet

Paring : Yunho x Reader (Im Johwa)

Synopsis: This is a peak from my Wattpad book, Conflating Arousal. It is an enemies to lovers book in which Yunho is the CEO and she is his employee. Fate brings them in this position where they can't take their hands off each other.

Warning : Mature content.

It's almost eleven and my friends had abandoned me to rot here with Mr. Jeong's cabinet open, me working non-stop without a single break.

I'm sure that everyone has already left the office without me and him. I am having a bad idea of grabbing his collar and asking me why he is doing this to me but I just can't do that. We have no relationship in-between us, we never had one. I can't even put blame on him, he is suffering a lot more than I am.

I sense him staring at me time by time and I do the same when his eyes drop. I don't know what type of game it is but I don't like it much. I don't want him to eat me up with his eyes when he has two capable hands and mouth to do so.

Suddenly he calls me in his cabin and I almost run hoping he will talk to me, he will pull me closer and apologize. He will speak about his heart and break into my arms while I'll pour all of my love on him.

"Yes, Mr. Jeong?" I ask him, my heart thudding.

"Make me a cup of coffee without suger," he says not even looking at me and I think I cursed out too loud because he looks at me frowning making me embarrassed as hell. Why is he frowning?

"Sure," I tell him before running away.

I put everything in the cup one by one feeling my blood boiling up. He is a menace, I hate him so much. Maybe I should spit in the cup too, no one would know. Ugh, what the hell is wrong with me?

I keep the coffee cup on his table and start leaving but slowly thinking he will say something, do something. I know he wants to then why doesn't he?

I look down and keep walking ahead feeling hopeless but suddenly my head hits something hard and broad. As I look, I see a white shirt, body soaked in sweat. How is he sweating in this weather? The temperature is very low outside right now.

I look up and see him locking the door of his cabin as he looks at me with burning eyes, like there is a threat in those, like he is my predator and I am his prey. He starts walking towards me but I can't help, I keep backing off.

None of us talk until my feet stop automatically without my back hitting anything and in a blink, I feel those soft lips of his mine, his hands in mine as he spins me, pins me against the wall, sliding my hands upon my hand pinning on the wall.

I kiss him like I was wanting to, like I am giving him access to every part of me. He is kissing me like he is joining every part of me that he broke some while ago.

I missed his sweet delicate scent, I missed those lips, the taste of his tongue twirling with mine. I missed everything he does to me, the way my heart screams for him and my mind blows up for his touch, I missed all of it.

I know I am stuck with him tonight and I don't quite mind it.

As he releases the kiss, he licks his lips before pulling me in his arms, walking towards his desk. He places my body on his office desk moving everything that is keeping me away from him.

"Spread your legs for me," he demands and I obey like I've never obeyed someone else, his voice is so deep, it reaches every cell inside of me.

He stands in-between my legs and keeps staring at my eyes, his piercing gaze stabbing my heart again and again. He does nothing, he keeps staring at me like he hasn't seen me for a decade.

"Do you know what I am going to do to you right now?" He asks as if I am no already ready for him to do anything he wants to.

"No," I lie smirking with my soft gaze.

He chuckles before pulling me closer squeezing my hips, "I am going to ruin your pretty little body while you will scream my name, begging me not to stop."

"Fuck yes," a moan already leaves my mouth as he keeps his dirty talks, "What else?" I ask him whispering licking my bottom lips as my eyes fall on his lips.

"I'm going to make you taste yourself," he says as he simply unbuttons my blue velvet shirt.

"And?" I ask again as he finishes, his eyes glowing and are on my chest now.

He pulls down my half padded black bra and takes my right breast in his mouth, sucking, nipping and licking, he says, "I'm going to mark you."

"I tho-ought no one is marking me anymore," I say grabbing onto the desk for my dear life.

I see him smirking as he kisses in-between my chest before saying, "No one is marking you but me," this was his last sentence before devouring my lips again while his firm hands cups my breasts, playing.

His lips get down from my mouth to my chin and reaches on my neck kissing, sucking. My neck is his favorite place, he makes sure of it making me cry for more. I tremble under him again for the third time but this time, he cups my face, "Don't close your eyes, keep looking into my eyes," he leaves my face and I feel hands on my thighs, sliding under my skirt, one of his hands reaches inside my inner thigh then parts my thong slowly, gently.

I gasp for air grabbing his hand but he never breaks the eye contact as he finds me being wet for him to touch me, to make me lose my mind. More of some files have fallen from his desk because of me moving like this continuously.

I squeeze my legs but he parts them with his another hand, "Don't you dare close them. Keep looking at me," but looking at him isn't easy when he is rubbing my clitoris continuously making my leg shake in shiver. His fingers are so long and thick, I can feel him on my fold, they fit perfectly.

My breathing is so heavy and my grip on his hand and the desk is unbearable.

I feel something building inside my lower stomach, it is getting down slowly, painfully as he is moving his finger faster with each stroke.

"Fuck, I-I can't do it anymore," I tell him trying to push his hand away though I don't want to.

"No, you can," his deep, raspy voice echoes in the room with the wet noises.

I think I am going to faint with the heavy feeling. It feels so fucking euphoric and I think I haven't needed anything else more than that.

"W-what if someone comes?" I ask him not knowing how else I can stop him.

"Focus on me only right now or I'll slap your pretty little pussy, do you understand?" He says touching his forehead with mine and I nod, I'm breathless right now.

"Mr. Jeong, God... I'm losing it," I tell him bucking my hips for more.

"Look at the clock," he orders again.

"What? Why?" I frown but seeing his face, I look at the clock.

"What's the time?

Why is he asking me?

"11:59 a.m....sorry p.m." Suddenly I feel a thud and my forehead falls on his chest as I make a mess on his finger cumming all over, "Fuck, yes, yes, yes," my last yes sounds so faded in my own throat.

I can hear the clock ticking when Mr. Jeong whispers, his lips touching my earlobe softly, "Happy Birthday."

I am stunned hearing him and tired from the release. I don't understand what just happened. How did he know today is my birthday? I didn't even know.

I look at him slowly, "What?"

"I said," he kisses my cheek, "Happy Birthday," and smiles like a way I haven't seen him in my whole life. His smile is so fascinating and the faint dimple. God, he has a dimple? It's so fucking beautiful. I am losing it more and more.

For your kind information, I want to tell you my Wattpad account is mistyyhoriizon

I wanted to write this book here but that would be so long so I thought of writing on Wattpad. If you are curious you can find me in Wattpad ❤️ thanks for reading.

[naivesilver]

🎲 + I'm not giving you a number. just click the button like you're hitting skip on an ipod shuffle until you see a character that you REALLY wanna make content for. And maybe make a moodboard or a ficlet for them?

WELL YOU SEE MY FRIEND, our amiable spinning wheel of fate declared I should make something for little Cedar Booth, the AU daughter of our most beloved blorbo; however, since she's fairly new compared to the other kids, I didn't really want to pick, so you get a moodboard AND a tiny experimental thing as well. Enjoy...?

Send me 🎲 + a number and I will put ALL my OCs into a randomizer and choose the first OC after the number of randomizations to make something for.

The Rulebook of Being Cedar Booth, Age Almost Six, Storybrooke, Maine

Cedar is her father's favorite child.

Wrong already. Scratch that and start from the top. Paint over it, the way she is so good at doing when she makes a mistake midway through a drawing.

Ahem.

Cedar is her father's only child. That doesn't mean he loves her any less, but saying she's the favorite would be misleading, a lie. There is no one else he could choose.

Cedar's father never planned to have her in the first place. That doesn't mean he loves her any less, either.

Cedar has a father, a grandfather, and several aunts and uncles, because Daddy and Grandpa have lots of friends that care for her even though they're not really family. She doesn't have a mother, but that's okay. She doesn't need one. She's fine the way she is.

Cedar's best friends are Maddie, Raven and Cerise. Raven does have a mum, and Cerise has two, which should balance things out, except Maddie doesn't have one either, just like Cedar. Cedar feels guilty for being a bit happy about this, because Maddie's mum is dead, but sometimes she can't help thinking it all the same. She doesn't like being the odd one out, ever.

Cedar is the odd one out now. That's okay, too. Most of the townspeople are odd, or magic. Cerise and her sister Ramona are werewolves, as is their mama. Daddy was like her once, when he was small. It doesn't matter that she's turning into wood.

Lie.

6. It does matter that she's turning into wood, but Grandpa says that the right people won't care at all, and that means him and Daddy and Jiminy, and her friends and Auntie Emma, so Cedar guesses she's doing well enough. They will figure it out together. Daddy promised they would figure it out together, and Daddy doesn't lie anymore, especially not to her.

7. Cedar's not hurting anywhere.

Lie.

7a. Fine, Cedar's hurting a bit. In the legs. They're stiff and sore when she goes to bed sometimes, even if Daddy sweeps her off her feet and carries her off to her room when it happens, makes a game out of it for her. Cedar loves her father very much for that, and she's being a good girl for his sake, she really is.

8. No, she did not throw mud at Apple Nolan when Apple said something about Cedar's legs. That was Sparrow, Raven's brother. Sparrow likes throwing things and making noise, and he doesn't boss Cedar around ever, only picks on her like he does to his sister.

9. What Apple said doesn't make her a bad person. She's Snow White's daughter, and more importantly, Auntie Emma's sister. She can't be a bad person. She just doesn't notice she's hurting other people sometimes, Maddie said.

10. It's Cedar's own fault that this is happening to her.

Lie.

10a. It's Daddy's fault that this is happening to her, because of what he used to be.

LIE.

10b. It's Grandpa's fault that this is happening to her, for making his son like that in the first place.

lielielielielielie

?. She's lost count. She can't say whose fault it actually is. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be safe. She doesn't want her family to be unsafe because of what she says, even if it's the truth. She shouldn't tell the truth if it hurts someone else, like Apple's words did. She should lie.

Could she lie?

She can still lie, right?

Lie.

[devils-pirate-crew]

"My compliments to the chef."

Juraj chuckles, glancing off to the side. "You say that every time, Arbs."

"It's true," Arber grins back, spooning more soup into his mouth. "Every time."

The cook's smile grows wider, a soft, bashful pink tinting his cheeks. "It's not even that good," he mumbles.

His crewmate merely hums, satisfied. "It is to me."

The sound of boots on the deck shakes the ship ever-so-slightly with each step. The hatch is opened and someone hops down below. "Hey, Slaf, X," a familiar voice calls, the owner of said voice rounding the corner.

"Captain!" Juraj stretches out the second syllable, spinning around on his bench to wave at Santé's captain. "Isn't it... early for you to be back?"

Nick Suzuki shrugs, the feather on his cavalier hat bouncing. "I could say the same about you," he replies, leaning on the doorway of the dining hall. "I thought Xhekaj would be out drinking away his salary."

To this, he receives Arber's other middle finger. "Shut it, Suzu. Slaf and I are doing important business here keeping this ship afloat."

Nick chuckles. "Sure you are." His gaze zeroes in on the medicines and bandages on the table. "Let me guess, Slaf tripped on something and you overreacted."

"Well, no - "

"Yep, that's exactly what happened," Juraj bobs his head animatedly, agreeing with gusto as he elbows Arber's side.

"Okay, fine," he relents, rolling his eyes as he gets Juraj's memo to lie about this - and the unconscious pirate on the bench across from them, hidden from their captain's view. "You got me."

Nick sighs. "So predictable. Well, most of the crew's at The Electric Eel right now slinging beers and ale like it's their last day on land. It's not, and with any luck it'll be far from their last, but. I ran into Tuna there."

"Tuna?" Juraj turns around again, having grabbed the roll of bandages and begun winding them around his left palm to keep up the façade. "You're getting us fish for... the next trip?"

The captain shakes his head. "Tuna like the guy who used to be a gunner on our ship," he explains. "That Tuna? He was before your time. Anyways, Tuna's on Jersey Devil now. He told me that apparently their pilot's mate had gone missing a few hours ago after he dropped off some mail to Petey's store. Missing without a trace, not missing as in found a girl to spend the night with. Or a guy, whatever," he tacks on with a look between his two crew members. "The point is - the pilot's mate is gone, and a decent chunk of their crew is worried sick. They said he wasn't the type to leave the ship without letting anyone know."

Juraj and Arber exchange a glance, silently agreeing not to let their secret slide. "Haven't seen him," the gunner shrugs. "We'll let you know if we do? Or should we just catch him and return him to his ship?"

"I don't think you need to kidnap him," the captain closes his eyes. "His name is Dawson. About my height, a little leaner. Apparently he's got gunpowder burns and regular burn scars on a lot of his left side, face, hand, all that, so he's not difficult to pick out of a crowd. You see him, you let me know, or anyone from Jersey Devil. Pirate's honor."

"He's not there against his will, right?" Arber furrows his brow.

"God, no. Nico's not that kind of captain." Nick pauses, contemplating that, then nods, sure of it. "Alright, I'm going back to the tavern. But if you see him, or if any of your spirit friends do - "

"You got it, boss," the gunner salutes, his crewmate laughing as he does. The captain of Santé sighs, waving as he heads back out.

As soon as the sound of Nick's boots dissipates and the captain is off the ship, Juraj looks to Arber, panic in his eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did we lie to him? Why did we do that? How are we going to get Dawson out of here without Captain figuring it out and killing us? Or Jersey Devil's crew finding out and capturing us and killing us? Or - "

"Relax," Arber places a hand on Juraj's fake-bandaged one. "I'm sure it'll be fine." He offers a hopefully-reassuring smile, going back to finish his soup and banking that Juraj doesn't call his bluff - that he also has no idea what to do next.

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Needles + Nightmares

Mac needs to get out of here. If only the room would stop spinning.

(A reboot retelling of MacGyver (1985) S1E11 Nightmares)

---

Jack is hungry. It's not a particularly new thing for him, but he isn't expecting it at three in the afternoon. Absently, he worries that he’s finally achieved true seniorhood and now requires dinner before four o’clock.

Then he realizes that he forgot to eat lunch, laughs, and rests well in the reassurance that he still has some youth left in him.

Jack calls Mac and is rewarded with a grumpy voice after one ring.

“What do you want?”

“Easy there, Cujo. What's with all the hostility?”

“Jack, you have called me nine times in the last seven hours.”

“Tenth call’s free, right?”

Mac ignores his hilarious joke. “Can I please have a real day off? Me resetting the password on your Netflix account isn't exactly a vacation.”

“We’re family, hoss. You don't get a break from that.”

“You know what I mean. I’d like to get through one book chapter without you interrupting.”

“Well, okay, here’s an idea,” Jack offers. “Howsabout I order a pizza to your place, and we can separately appreciate it while being in the same room? I promise I won't interrupt your book.”

“First, we both know that's a lie, and second, you can't because I’m not home. And who said anything about pizza?”

“I did. Just now. I’m hungry, and I didn't want to leave you out.”

“Please leave me out,” Mac gripes. “Dear god, please leave me o-” There’s rustling over the line. “Hey, what are you-?”

There’s yelling. Grunting.

“Mac?”

And then nothing.

“Mac??”

The line goes dead.

“Oh, you damn-” Jack has to physically restrain himself from chucking his phone into the wall. He only just replaced it from when Mac decided to duct tape his phone to the underbelly of a government drone. How and why that happened is beyond Jack. But he can't afford to buy another phone right now.

So instead, he uses the phone to call Mac again.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he chants, praying for a response.

By the time the third ring comes around, Jack hangs up and calls Riley.

“What do you want?”

“God, what is it with people today?” Jack might be panicked, but he still has other feelings. Disrespected being one of them. “Why can’t one person answer the phone with a, ‘Hey, Jack, how you doin’? You sound so handsome today! What can I do for you?’”

“Because you don’t live in a fantasy world, Jack. Because literally no one would say that. And because you’re constantly calling me for text-worthy problems. Unless someone is dead or dying, you don’t need to call.”

“Oh! Oh, well, guess what? Someone probably is dying!” And then the panic hits him all over again. “I, uh, I think someone attacked Mac, and now he won’t answer his phone. I need his location.”

“Looking now,” Riley replies, her voice lowered and all business. “I’ll call him too.”

“I already tried that.”

“Yeah, but maybe he’s just ignoring you.”

“He’s not-” Jack stops himself. He’s been a bit on the annoying side today, he will admit. And if it’s true that Mac is simply ignoring his calls, then that means everyone is safe and okay. Jack will take an angry but safe MacGyver over a potentially dead MacGyver any day of the week.

“His phone last connected to wi-fi one minute ago. Some coffee place in Silver Lake.”

“Mugsy’s?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. But, um, the signal went out. So either Mac broke his phone or-”

“Or someone else broke Mac’s phone. Got it.” Jack is already outside and climbing in his truck. “I’m on my way now.”

“I’ll call Matty.”

Jack almost stops her. Matty is bossy and overbearing and not just because she’s his boss. If this really is Mac ignoring him - which he doubts, but it’s possible - she’ll never let Jack hear the end of it.

But Jack knows Mac isn’t faking a kidnapping to avoid him. He wouldn’t.

“Okay. I’ll call you once I’ve checked out the coffee shop.”

“Cool.” There’s a long pause, during which Riley should hang up. But she doesn’t. “Be careful, Jack.”

“Sure thing, Riles. You too.”

---

It’s dark when Mac opens his eyes. He can barely make out the grimy windows and nondescript desk. Though, to be fair, Mac isn’t sure if it’s truly dark or if his vision is just blurry. The guys standing around him seem to see just fine.

“Nothing? Check his jacket too.”

Mac’s shoulders ache. Like someone got him right on the suprascapular nerves. He’s willing to bet someone did. He can’t remember much from the coffee shop, but that explanation sounds plausible enough.

A man shuffles around the room, digging through Mac’s jacket. He turns it inside-out and upside-down, checking every pocket and feeling the hems for lumps. Finally, he sighs. “List’s not on him.”

Another man, sitting at the desk across from Mac and clearly the evil mastermind of the group, steeples his fingers. “Care to tell me where it’s hidden, MacGyver?”

Mac isn’t sure how they got his name. He doesn’t even know who they are. But he does have a vague idea of what they’re looking for. Uber-secret spy stuff and all that. It’s just too bad that Mac’s really not allowed to say anything about it.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He shrugs in a what can you do? gesture.

The evil guy stays still in an I’m not buying your story and I’m probably going to kill you gesture. “You see, Barrett,” he says to the man beside him, “Mr. MacGyver thinks he's a tough guy.” He hands Barrett a long blue strip of rubber. Mac has an idea about what that might be. He doesn’t like it.

“But,” Evil Guy continues, “even tough guys can be… ah, persuaded to speak.”

A man appears at Mac’s left side, strapping his arms to the chair. Barrett walks to his right side and rips his shirt sleeve up to his bicep.

“There are many methods I could use to get the information,” Evil Guy promises. “But this is my favorite.” He pulls a needle from the desk drawer.

Barrett ties the blue strip just above Mac’s elbow. His vein sticks out, and it’s then that he realizes just how much trouble he’s in.

“Hey, look, guys,” Mac hedges, wondering if he’s truly buying time for a rescue or if he’s just making this more painful than it needs to be. “I have this thing about needles.” The worst part is that he’s not completely lying. Sure, he can handle needles, but this is… It’s way too much.

“Here’s an idea,” Mac tries. “Why don’t you just try dripping water on my forehead?”

No one seems interested in this alternative.

“The old ‘rubber hose and bright light’ trick?”

Slowly, Evil Guy pulls a vial from the drawer and holds it up for Mac to see. But the joke is on him - Mac’s vision is still too blurry. He couldn’t see what was in the vial if he wanted to.

“Hypnotism!” Mac suggests hurriedly. “It’s been known to work!”

Evil Guy is unflinching. He stands and approaches Mac, stabbing the vial and drawing up the mystery drug. He pauses a moment, glancing at Mac’s arm. “You have good veins.”

Mac’s mouth goes dry. “Thank you.”

Evil Guy flicks the syringe a few times and brings the needle to Mac’s arm.

Mac can’t help it. It’s instinct. He shifts forward and tries to stand. “Aw, c’mon-”

A man grabs Mac from behind, his forearm digging into Mac’s throat.

The irony of it all is that Mac barely feels it. The needle is in and out in a few seconds. He swallows hard, trying not to think about what his heart is now pumping around his body.

“That burning sensation will disappear shortly,” Evil Guy promises, and Mac isn’t sure if the sudden stinging in his arm is real or made up by this new information.

Satisfied with his work, Evil Guy returns to his desk, sitting back in the chair. “This serum was handpicked for you, MacGyver. I’m sure you’re wondering about its effects.”

Which is very true. Mac is wondering very hard about that.

“At first, the serum causes disorientation, double vision, hallucinations,” Evil Guy explains. “When your mind clears in-” he hums in uncertainty “-roughly three hours, the pain will become excruciating. And if that doesn’t convince you to cooperate, well, there’s one more thing I particularly like about this drug.”

Mac thought the disorientation and pain were enough. What more is this guy referring to?

“It will kill you.”

Oh. Of course. Why hadn’t Mac guessed that?

“Of course, it can all be stopped,” Evil Guy assures him, “with this antidote.” He holds up a pill canister. “But if you don’t take the antidote in six hours, the serum is irreversible. Six hours, and you begin to die.”

Evil Guy looks at Barrett. “Begin countdown.”

Barrett nods, secures a watch to Mac’s wrist, and presses a button with a cheerful beep.

Mac glances down, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the watch reads:

5 hours, 59 minutes.

And counting.

Evil Guy takes the pill from the canister and holds it out. “It’s your choice, MacGyver. To live, or to die?”

---

The coffee shop is almost completely vacant when Jack gets there. A couple patrons sit by the windows. Another sips his drink in a booth by the bathroom. A barista is behind the counter, both elbows on the register and face hidden in his hands. He looks like he could use a cup of coffee himself.

“‘scuse me,” Jack says, stepping in front of the register. The boy snaps awake, immediately straightening and plastering a customer service smile to his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. You seen a blond guy? 5’10”, probably talking about science or something?”

The barista frowns. “Uh… no? No science people.”

“I said ‘probably,’” Jack presses. “He might not’ve been.”

“Okay, so have I seen any 5’10” blond guys? That’s the question?”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

That’s fair. It’s a pretty vague description.

“Okay, okay, lemme just-” Jack digs out his phone and scrolls through his camera roll. “Here.” He taps a selfie of him and Mac, clearly snapped before Mac could realize there was a camera in his face, and passes his phone to the barista. “Have you seen that guy today?”

“Hm. Um, yeah. He was here twenty minutes ago.”

“Do you know where he went?”

The boy shrugs. “I dunno. Some guys knocked him out and dragged him out to their car.”

Jack needs a second to process that information. “Why didn't you-?” He needs to calm down before he reacts. He might lose it on this kid, and that's not an effective way to get information from a relatively cooperative witness. “Why didn't you call the cops?”

The barista shrugs. “I mean, it happened really fast. And then they left the shop, so it wasn't really my problem anymore.”

The boy’s lack of concern for justice or the wellbeing of others distresses Jack, but there's very little time to worry about the past. “Did you get a car make and model? A color?”

“I dunno. Look, are you gonna buy something?”

Jack slaps a five dollar bill on the counter. “I’ll take a coffee. Answer the question.”

The barista raises an eyebrow. “Coffee is seven dollars.”

“Seven dollars?? What is it made of, gold or something?”

“A struggling economy,” the kid corrects.

Jack digs around for two extra dollars. Finding nothing, he drops his five dollars in the tip jar. “Okay, a tip for a tip, then.”

“Black car. Toyota Corolla, maybe. They dumped your friend in the trunk and turned onto Blaine Street.”

“What’d the guys look like?”

“Dunno. Average height? White dudes, mid-thirties? I dunno.”

That’s not much to go off of. Jack’s done more with less, but that doesn’t mean the task ahead of him is easy. “Where was my friend sitting?” Jack asks. “Where in the shop was he attacked?”

The kid points to a window booth near the entrance. “Second table from the door.”

Jack doesn’t waste any time. He hurries over to the booth. A cup of coffee (Still warm, Jack notes) and a dog-eared copy of a Stephen Hawking text lay abandoned on the table. The condiments are organized in a caddy by the window. And-

Jack clenches his jaw and snatches the one object on the table that he didn’t expect:

A wristwatch that reads, 5:52. But it isn't 5:52. It's barely 4 o’clock.

And then the watch changes. 5:51. And then Jack gets it.

It's not a watch. It's a countdown.

---

There is no way, Mac thinks as he’s shoved into the dirty room, they’re this stupid.

It’s a little room, sure. There’s a shoddy bed straight out of World War II in the corner. There’s a… bucket in the other corner. (Mac tries not to think too hard about the purpose of that.) The door is made of a questionable quality of metal and slams shut behind him.

There’s so much to work with, he wonders if these guys even know who he is. Sure, they claim to know about his most recent job (a handoff of a list of the names of some pretty important guys who are probably almost certainly going to be of interest to the CIA) and they say that they designed this serum just for him. But if they didn’t know not to leave Mac with so much raw material, then they clearly didn’t do their homework.

The lock is old-school - just a metal latch and a padlock - but definitely not outside of Mac’s wheelhouse. In fact, this is basically a fun night out for Mac. Like an escape room but with dirtier floors and also a higher risk of death. The Coney Island of kidnapping scenarios.

The first thing Mac does is shake out his arm. He’s definitely feeling the burning now.

Next, he throws the thin mattress on the floor and flips the bed frame onto its side. He easily threads the springs from the frame and (much less easily) twists the metal wires together to form four short chains. Two conveniently located pipes, each on one side of the door, make perfect anchors as he connects each corner of the bed frame to the wall.

A bead of sweat drips down Mac’s forehead. It’s hot in here, but it seems excessive. He… He definitely should not be sweating this much. His vision wavers, and suddenly there are two, three, four doors swaying past his eyes.

“Not now, Mac,” he mutters to himself, closing his eyes and trying to remember how to breathe. Distantly, he can hear his grandfather talking, and Mac has to take an active effort to ignore it. “Just neurons misfiring in deeply personal and unnerving ways.”

Mac takes a moment to steady himself before shouting at the top of his lungs. “HELP! OH MY GOD, HELP! FIRE! THERE’S A FIRE!”

After a few moments, there’s a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the door. “You’re not on fire, idiot. You’re delirious. God, I get the worst jobs-”

And he is certainly right about that. Mac pulls the bed frame as far as the spring chains will allow, building up tension before releasing the bed. Like a slingshot, the springs shorten and the frame flies away, busting through the door and, consequently, the man behind the door.

Then Mac runs. With a spectacular crash like that, every bad guy in the building is headed his way. Mac sprints out of the room, leaping over the downed man. He flies down the stairs, runs across the warehouse floor, and hurries out the door.

And then his vision gets shaky, his knees go weak, and he faceplants in the middle of the road.

There’s honking. Shouting. Something rushes past in Mac’s peripherals.

Gotta get away. Gotta get away, he thinks feverishly, though he’s quickly forgetting why that is. He starts running.

“Dude, you are so messed up.”

Mac is on the ground again. He’s not sure where he is. All he knows is that the sky above him is blue and the ground below him is rough. Shakily, he climbs to his feet. He goes back to running.

“What’s wrong, kiddo? Are you feeling okay?”

“Grandpa?”

“Do I look like your grandpa? Screw you, man.”

Mac is staring at the grill of an eighteen-wheeler. Another honk. Cursing. Mac stumbles out of the road and takes a quick nap on the sidewalk.

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m going to kill you, MacGyver.” Murdoc? “But first, I’m going after that little family of yours. So sad, to think that your coworkers are all you have left. And soon you won’t have that either.”

Clicking. Pain. Heat. Spinning.

“What’s your name?”

…

“I said, ‘What’s your name?’”

The blinding sunlight is now grim, nasty, fading fluorescents.

“You don’t have to fake it anymore, man. They’re not gonna take you to the hospital.”

“Mac, you gotta help me! Please, please, please help!!”

Blink.

And then, nothing.

---

They call it a search party. Jack isn’t sure why. There’s plenty of searching, sure, but it sure as hell ain’t a party. It feels more like the night before a big game or a final exam. Everyone is up worrying and prepping for the inevitable, and these few hours before the disaster dictate just how disastrous it will be. And with Mac missing and a digital watch counting down in his last known location, every second counts.

“What was his last mission?”

“Intel retrieval,” Matty snaps, clearly not interested in rehashing an old discussion. “Highly sensitive information that could compromise national security in the wrong hands. But anyone could want that information. Even if that’s why he was taken, it doesn’t narrow our search.”

Matty turns away from Bozer and, in her next breath, is shouting at the Phoenix agents running about. “Okay, people! We’ve got five hours! Keep it moving!”

“There are tens of thousands of black Toyota Corollas in the city,” Riley sighs. “We need a new angle, and his last mission might be our best bet.”

“What about the watch? There’s got to be some reason for it,” Jack reasons. “Why put pressure on us without leaving a list of demands?”

Matty scowls. “That’s… surprisingly insightful, Dalton.”

“Well, I’m surprisingly flattered,” Jack replies, though he flubs the delivery. His mouth turns bitter. Theoretically, a ransom note is bound to show up eventually, but if it doesn’t-

“I’ve got a hit,” Riley announces, failing to conceal her excitement. “LAPD arrested Mac ten minutes ago.”

Bozer frowns, leaning over Riley’s shoulder and squinting at the screen. “Arrested? For what?”

“‘Public intoxication,’” Riley reads.

Jack doesn’t waste time wondering. He’s already headed out the door and towards his truck. “If y’all wanna come with, y’better hurry up,” he warns. He’s not going to sit and wait for the other shoe to drop.

---

He’s back in the cell when he opens his eyes again. The walls are spinning, and his head throbs with every beat of his heart.

“-ac. Mac. You there?”

It takes Mac a moment to realize that the man is talking to him. “Wh- What?” His voice is so shaky and distant that he doesn’t even recognize it.

“What happened, hoss?”

Mac tries to stand, but vertigo keeps him on the floor. “I don’t…” He tries to look closer at the man crouched in front of him. He’s familiar… He’s…

“Mac, you’re scaring me, dude. Don’t make me call Medical.”

Wait. That’s…

“Jack?” he mumbles, reaching out.

Jack instantly takes Mac’s hand and settles his free hand on Mac’s shoulder. “In the flesh, brother.” He goes quiet for a moment (or maybe Mac just zoned out), but when he speaks again, he sounds angry. “They drugged you?”

Mac shakes his head and instantly regrets it. He needs a moment to stop the room from spinning. “Um… I dunno. Who’s… Who’re we talking about?”

But Jack just looks sad. “It’s okay, Mac. Relax, okay? We’ll… I’m gonna get you outta this.”

Mac trusts him.

---

The tox screens come back clean. Head scans are normal. Aside from a few nasty bruises, Mac is healthy. Jack can’t believe it. He’s so clearly not healthy. Not even a little.

Forensics are still running tests on the dirt on Mac’s clothing. On the fingerprints on the watches. On anything and everything they can get their hands on.

But so far? Nada.

“J-Jack?”

Jack practically sprints across the room to Mac, placing a hand on his shoulder to ground him. “I’m here, hoss. I’m here.”

Mac blinks frantically, eyes glossy and hurting. “Jack, where’s- where's Charlie?”

Jack’s stomach sinks. “He’s not here, buddy. Just you ‘n’ me ‘n’ Riley.”

“But…” Mac frowns. It's such a tiny pout that it'd be cute if Mac wasn't scaring the everloving shit out of Jack. “Charlie’s-”

“Fine,” Jack insists, though nothing could be further from the truth. “He’s okay. We’re all okay.”

“Who's Charlie?” Riley asks it slowly, carefully, watching the pair from behind her computer. Her fingers hover over the keyboard, typing stalled to ask the question.

Jack knows the answer, but he looks to Mac first. And Mac is frozen, eyes wide and watching Riley with a paranoid sort of horror. There's not a drop of recognition in his gaze.

They're in deeper trouble than Jack realized.

“Mac, where are we right now? What do you remember?”

Mac blinks again. He hugs his stomach tighter and shifts closer to Jack. Jack closes the distance between the two and wraps his arm around Mac’s shoulders.

“Mac,” he repeats. “Bud. What do you remember?”

“Dunno,” Mac mumbles. “It… It hurts, Jack.”

“I know, buddy. I know. Talk to me, okay? Where are we?”

Mac takes a slow second to look around the room, hesitating as his eyes pass over Riley. “Barracks,” he finally decides. “Afghanistan.”

“Not exactly,” Jack sighs. “Do you remember what happened? Did you see who took you?”

“... ‘s really hot in here, Jack.”

“SoCal boy like you shouldn't have any problems with that,” Jack replies, but his words lack the brevity that the joke requires.

Mac just whines and leans heavily against Jack’s side.

“Jack,” Riley calls, expression beyond terrified. “What's going on?”

“Keep searching the street cams, Riles,” Jack says instead. “We don't have a lot of time.”

---

Mac isn't sure when or how it happens. One minute, he’s a shivering mess in the army barracks, and the next, he's in the Phoenix and feeling… surprisingly normal.

“Jack?” His voice cracks, but Mac can't be bothered to feel embarrassed.

“Still here, Mac,” Jack promises, walking into Mac’s line of sight. “How’re you doing?”

Mac sits up carefully. His vision is no longer spinning. His shirt is damp, but sweat isn't trickling down his back or temples anymore. “I’m… okay.”

There’s a heavy pause. Jack is waiting for more, but Mac doesn't have more to report. He feels okay. Period.

“Where are we?” Jack asks. Obviously, he hasn't gotten a satisfactory answer to this question yet.

“Looks like Phoenix Med.”

Jack frowns. “And you feel…?”

“Totally fine.”

Jack chews on his lip and glances at his watch.

… wait.

Mac reaches out. “Lemme see that.”

Hesitantly, Jack shows him his wrist.

1 hours, 49 minutes.

“So you found an antidote, then?”

Jack’s eyes widen, horror tugging on his lips. “No. No, we weren't even sure… You were poisoned? But you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I feel fine. A little tired, but-”

And then his vision goes white, dagger-sharp agony arcing through his body. He curls in on himself, trying to dull the all-encompassing, undistractible hurt.

“-deep breaths, hoss-”

Jack is talking, but in all fairness, Mac doesn’t understand much of it. He can’t ignore the knife in his stomach, twisting and ripping and biting.

It takes ages - years, decades, centuries - for the pain to abate. It doesn’t go away completely, but the freshly-sharpened ax softens to a rusty band saw. Mac can open his eyes again. He can feel the wetness under his eyes. He can see the blurry face hovering over him.

“-listen to me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Just keep breathing.”

Mac reaches up to grip Jack’s hand. “Still here,” he rasps.

“What the hell was that, Mac?”

“Think it’s the drug,” he pants, trying to clear the black spots in his vision. “They… They said this would happen.”

“‘They?’”

Mac lets Jack help him sit up again. “Yeah. Yeah, there was… Ugh, it’s starting to come back. I, uh, I was drugged. They wanted the list from my last assignment. They said this drug would convince me to cooperate.”

“What drug? And who did this?”

“Don’t know who.” Mac rubs his eyes and hugs his legs to his chest. “They didn’t say what drug either. Just that it’d kill me in six hours.”

In less than a second, Jack goes from mildly angry and relatively concerned to fuming and out of his mind with worry. “It’d do what?”

“Well, it would make me hallucinate for the first three hours. And then-” He gasps, another wave of pain taking him by surprise. When he’s able to think again, he finds himself flat on his back.

“Is pain a side effect?”

Mac, breathless, nods. “And… and there’s an antidote, but I… I’m not sure where it is.”

There’s a buzzing, and Jack almost ignores it before flashing Mac an apologetic grimace. “Please tell me you have something, Riles.”

…

“Yeah, that might be important.”

…

“Address.”

…

Jack doesn’t say anything before hanging up. It strikes Mac as odd, but then his world lights on fire, and he doesn’t care if Jack is acting odd.

“Be back soon.”

“Wait.” Mac holds out a shaking hand. “Take me with you.”

“Dude, we don’t have time to argue this.”

“Think-” Mac grunts. “Think about it. I need to take that antidote as soon as we find it.”

Jack folds his arms, clearly pissed that Mac is right. “Can you walk? I don’t need you slowing me down.”

“I’ll stay in the - ugh - car.”

But Jack was right the first time. They don’t have time to argue. He reaches down, helps Mac up, and they break out of Phoenix Med.

---

“Mac? How you feeling, buddy?”

Mac swallows vomit, gripping his ribs with fingers desperate for relief. “Peachy,” he hisses.

“I know,” Jack soothes. “I know, I know, I know. Just hang on a little longer. We’re nearly there.”

“Looks…” Mac takes a deep breath, likely riding out another episode of intense pain. (Whoever did this, they will pay. Jack will see to it personally.) “Looks familiar. I think… think I walked through this area.”

“Makes sense,” Jack agrees. “And then you tried to take a nap on the sidewalk and got arrested.”

“Oh.” Mac coughs, shifting awkwardly in the passenger seat. “Is that what happened?”

Jack tries not to be bothered by how little Mac remembers about the last five hours. And then he tries not to be bothered by how Mac only has one hour left.

“Wait!” Mac shouts, pointing left. “There! That’s the one!”

Jack looks away from the road long enough to size up the building. “Uh. You sure about that one, hoss? That’s an IKEA.”

But Mac just nods, sucking in a breath. Pain carves lines into the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the-” He winces. “That’s the one.”

Ordinarily, Jack would question Mac more. (A bunch of bad guys working out of an IKEA? Really?) But they don’t have the time today. If Mac says he got shot up in an IKEA, he got shot up in an IKEA.

Jack cuts a sedan off as he yanks the car to the left and crosses three lanes of traffic into the parking lot. He parks far from the storefront and looks at Mac.

“This place is massive. Any idea where they hid the antidote?”

Mac looks green again, eyes shut, palm to his forehead, and taking deep breaths. “I… um… There was a cell. Or something.”

“A cell. In IKEA.”

“I don’t know,” Mac grumbles. “I just-” He’s cut off with a hiss, hugging his stomach tightly. “That’s what I remember,” he grits out.

“Okay,” Jack says, hands out in surrender. “Okay. I’ll look for a cell. In IKEA.”

“You don’t need to say it like that,” Mac groans.

But Jack ignores him. “Hey, do us both a favor? Stay outta sight. I keep a gun in the glove compartment if you need it.”

They both know Mac won’t use it. But Jack feels obligated to remind him of it. Just so he doesn’t feel like he’s abandoning Mac with zero forms of defense.

“No, thanks.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack says. They don’t have time to argue. “I’ll be back soon. Watch your phone, okay?”

“You got it.” Mac gives a thumbs-up, but it’s greatly undermined by the grimace on his face.

Jack sighs. Slams the car door shut. Hurries to the storefront. And then things start to make sense.

It’s not an IKEA. It used to be an IKEA. Now it’s just a giant, empty warehouse with an ugly blue-and-yellow sign out front.

Jack considers being stealthy about this, but his nerves tug at him. Does he have time to fret over being noisy?

Well. Jack has always preferred the loud entrance over silently creeping around. He kicks the door open, guns blazing.

---

Mac wakes up on the floor of Jack’s truck. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. And he definitely doesn’t remember picking up a gun. He sets it on the floor like it’s a grenade and pulls himself up into the passenger seat.

And then he hears the gunshots. Mac’s vision is fuzzy, but if he squints, he can make out a standoff between a few men and one lone soldier.

Jack.

The odds aren’t great - aren’t terrible, really - but they still aren’t great. So with very little thought behind his actions, Mac slides over to the driver’s seat and turns the key in the ignition. His head throbs as the engine kicks on, and he feels vaguely nauseous. Mac doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t linger on it for long. He just puts the truck in gear and drives.

The truck shrieks as it tears through the parking lot and stops dead between Jack and the other men. Mac ducks just in time for bullets to shatter the windows.

“Good to see you, brother,” Jack calls, though when Mac sneaks a look, Jack isn’t even looking back, too focused on the men on the other side of the truck. “Stay in the truck.”

BANG. BANG, BANG, BANG.

“Got h-!” But the cheer dies in Jack’s throat.

Coast clear, Mac sits up and pushes himself out of the truck. He collapses almost immediately, legs turning to jelly.

“Shit,” Jack mutters, catching Mac under the arm. But he’s not talking about Mac. He’s staring at the downed criminals.

“What… What is it?” Mac grunts, trying to ignore the hot fire in his lungs.

“He… I shot him, and he dropped the antidote.”

Mac coughs. “We’ll find it.”

“He dropped it down a sewer grate,” Jack elaborates. “So unless you got the tools to rip a sewer grate out of the ground in…” He checks his watch. “... ten minutes, we’re not gonna get it.”

Mac stills for a moment. And then he’s moving at hyper-speed, trying to ignore the ache in his muscles and the stabbing pain in his gut. He grabs an ancient piece of rebar off the sidewalk and runs up to a fire hydrant.

Jack is a breath behind him. “What are you doing??”

Mac uses everything he has to slam the rod into the fire hydrant. Again. Again. Again.

“The impact causes temporary molecular structure alignment in iron. All the ions run to the other end.”

“I don’t… Mac, you know I don’t speak geek.”

Mac grunts, hitting the rod one last time. “Just made myself a magnet.” He returns to the sewer grate, lowering the rebar between the gaps and struggling to draw the metal canister containing the antidote to the end of the rod. His hands shake, and he nearly drops the rod when Jack takes over.

“I think I get it, hoss.” Jack tries the same maneuver with significantly more success. The canister snaps to the rod, and slowly, slowly, slowly, Jack pulls the rebar up and out of the grate. Once free, Jack grabs the canister tightly and moves away from the grate. Then he dumps the pill into Mac’s hand.

There’s no time to talk. Mac crams the pill in his mouth like a bird is going to swoop down and steal it from him.

Mac sags back, pain still wracking his body. Jack is there to make sure he doesn’t smack his head on the pavement.

“What’s the watch say?”

Mac frowns. Lifts his arm and reads the watch.

00:04

Four minutes.

“Damn,” Jack mutters. “Next time, we’re ordering in, hear me?”

Mac doesn’t have the energy to argue.

[bangbangchanie]

strangers || choi yeonjun

♡♡♡♡

Pairing: college student!yeonjun × college student!reader (fem)

Genre: fluff, angst, mostly slice of life

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, unedited, idk what else lol

Description: Yeonjun finds himself needing a favor from you after Soobin tries but fails to cover for him.

A/N: i wrote this during this past week and it's the first thing I've finished in a while. I'm not sure how i feel about it but i am glad i finally finished something that i don't hate lol. I meant to post this sooner and then i remembered it and was gonna chicken out, but it's yeonjun's birthday in SK, so i figured i should do it as a sort of birthday present. Lol, happy birthday to our 4th Gen It-Boy 💕 - Admin Peachy 🍑

♡♡♡♡

A sigh left Mrs. Choi's mouth as her call to her son went to voicemail for the nth time that week. She had been trying to get in touch with him as his father was having a very important business dinner and his boss was hoping to see Yeonjun there. Not only that, but she herself was hoping to see her son after nearly two months of not seeing him. They lived in the same city, for crying out loud!

She had her suspicions that he was up to no good. He had been a troublemaker in high school. While he got good grades, he didn't apply himself enough, and she was certain this new freedom wasn't going to help that. But, she couldn't just confront Yeonjun. She didn't want to seem like a helicopter parent or make him think she didn't trust him, but she worried about him. She wanted him to be safe and healthy and get a good education.

But, if she couldn't speak to him herself about it, what could she do? After considering her options, she decided to call his best friend Soobin.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Choi," Soobin said upon answering after just two rings. Gosh, if only her son was the same way. Not that the two were extremely different. Soobin was also a known troublemaker in high school, but it seemed getting a job in college had taught him more about responsibility. Maybe Yeonjun needed a job. "Is everything ok?"

Right, she was on the phone. "Hi, Soobin. I hate to call you so suddenly and just get straight to the point without asking how you are, but I've been quite concerned about Yeonjun lately," she confessed to him, getting right to business. "I've been calling him all week, and he isn't answering me. Is he doing alright? He's not hanging with that group of kids he got into all that trouble with in high school, is he? What about his classes? I just know he's skipping them."

Soobin gulped inaudibly, panicking because of the questions. Yeonjun wasn't hanging out with that group anymore, but he was certainly partying and getting drunk almost every night, which meant he was skipping classes because he was too hungover. Of course, he couldn't tell Mrs. Choi that. But, what was he supposed to say? He needed a good excuse that she would buy.

"Actually, Yeonjun has been going to his classes. He's just busy because he's studying so hard." That was an awful lie! She'd never believe that. Think, Soobin...think! "He's studying hard because he started dating this girl from one of his lectures. She's really studious, so she's been making sure he's staying on top of his work."

That seemed believable enough. "Really? A girlfriend?" Mrs. Choi asked, sounding pleasantly surprised. "Well, she sounds lovely! Why didn't he tell us this? Oh, that doesn't matter now. The important thing is that he's found himself a girlfriend and is doing well. Tell him to answer my calls, will you? Thank you so much, Soobin!"

She was quick to end the call, leaving Soobin's head spinning. Whatever the case, he was glad he saved his friend.

♡♡♡♡

"What the hell did you do?!" Yeonjun cried out as he burst through the door of his and Soobin's apartment. Soobin, who was sitting on the couch, jumped from shock. "Why the fuck would you tell my mom that I'm studying hard because I have a studious girlfriend?!"

Well, at least he finally answered her call. "What do you mean? To save your ass! Your mom called me today asking why you aren't answering her calls. She could somehow tell you weren't going to classes and being reckless, so I had to lie to make her think you're going to your lectures regularly and are just busy with something other than parties," Soobin informed him, not understanding why his friend was so pissed. "I told her you were busying studying, and then I added the studious girlfriend part so she'd actually buy it. You should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?! I should kill you! My dad has an important business dinner this weekend hosted by his boss, and now I'm expected to come with my new girlfriend. Do you know how fucked I am? How the hell am I supposed to just find a studious girlfriend in three days?! I mean, look at me! Smart girls aren't exactly rushing to date slackers like me."

Soobin hadn't been expecting any of this. Obviously, he would have come up with a different lie had he known the nature of Mrs. Choi's call. "Well...fuck!"

Kicking his shoes off, Yeonjun ran a hand through his hair. If he showed up at the dinner with no girlfriend, his mom would know something was up. He needed to pull this off so she wouldn't worry about him so much. But, how could he possibly do that?

"You just need to find a fake girlfriend," Soobin suddenly remarked, snapping his fingers. "Like in the movies! Ask a girl to be your fake girlfriend to trick your mom."

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. "This isn't a movie, and those movies are stupid. They set up two good-looking people to fall in love," he pointed out.

Waving him off, Soobin said, "Well, duh, it's a movie; that's supposed to happen. This won't be as complicated because you just have to trick your mom. Find a girl, bring her to the dinner, maybe stage some photos to send your mom for a couple of weeks, and then you can tell her you guys broke up."

He made a good point. As long as his mom was buying it, it didn't matter what others knew. The commitment wouldn't be as big as in the movies, and it wouldn't interfere with his daily life.

"Where am I gonna find a girl?"

That was how the two ended up in Yeonjun's English lecture the next afternoon. It was the only class that Yeonjun had where Soobin was free to tag along. They just hoped the professor wouldn't notice.

As students filed into the classroom, both boys began to size them up. Who seemed to fit the description Soobin gave Mrs. Choi best? Putting themselves in her mindset, which girl would she choose?

"Dude," Soobin said, sitting up a bit straighter after hitting Yeonjun's chest. Looking over, Yeonjun saw Soobin was staring at you. You were dressed in a simple blouse and cute skirt. "She's perfect...but I feel like I know her from somewhere."

Yeonjun thought you looked familiar, too, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Visually, you were perfect. You were cute, first of all, but you also appeared put together. Still, your intelligence level was the most important item on their checklist.

But, it became apparent quite quickly that you were quite smart and studious. You were one of the few students in the class that bothered to answer the questions. Aside from that, you remained quiet. Yeonjun couldn't quite gauge your personality, but that didn't really matter. All he cared about were your looks and brains.

"I remember how we know her," Soobin whispered to Yeonjun as the lecture was coming to an end. Yeonjun looked at his friend with a curious expression. "She was the class president our second year, remember?"

A look of realization appeared on Yeonjun's face. That was right! They never talked to you, but they naturally knew of you since the class president played a crucial role in the classroom. "Yep, she's perfect," Yeonjun remarked. The professor ended class and left. "Come on, it's go time."

Standing up, the two boys rushed over to your seat. You noticed the sudden presence, looking up and seeing two boys towering over you. "Um, can I help you?" you asked, feeling a bit nervous.

You didn't seem to recognize them. "You're Y/N, right?" Yeonjun asked, and you nodded slowly. "I'm Yeonjun, and this is Soobin. I don't know if you remember us--."

Cutting him off, you commented, "You're the guys that caused that explosion in the Chemistry lab."

Ah, so you did remember them. "Right. Hey, in our defense, it was an accident," Soobin remarked. "Plus, no one got hurt."

That didn't change the fact that they nearly destroyed the lab room. But, that was besides the point. "So, I know you didn't come over here to reminisce on old times...we weren't even friends in high school."

Smart girl. "I need a favor," Yeonjun informed you, getting straight to the point. "To make a long story short, I need a fake girlfriend by Saturday because of this idiot, and I think you'd be perfect for tricking my mom."

You finally stood up, hoisting your bag onto your shoulder. "Me? Why would I be perfect?" you asked, surprised by his words.

"You're smart and appear put together...that's really all it takes at this point."

Wow, how flattering. "No offense, but why should I help you? From the looks of it, you're the only one benefitting from this. You're the one that needs my help, after all."

Maybe you were annoyingly smart. Still, Yeonjun found it amusing. "I think you'll find that the dinner party you'd be attending would be quite beneficial," Soobin informed you on behalf of his friend. "You'd make many great connections."

Great connections? What was this dinner party? "I'll tell you what," Yeonjun spoke up. "If you find that the dinner party is beneficial enough for you, we'll call it even. If not, I'll give you two hundred bucks."

200 bucks? For some dinner party? That seemed like a lot. "How can I trust you?" you asked.

"Well, you're the one doing me a favor, so knowing that it's all fake is kind of collateral. If I don't hold up my end of the deal, you can tell my mom it was all fake and screw me over, so I kind of have to be a man of my word no matter what."

Hm, good point. "Are you busy right now? If you're interested, we can go somewhere and work out the details," Yeonjun added.

You were free, and you were finding this intriguing. Besides, you really wanted to know more about these potential connections through the dinner party. "Ok, let's go," you said.

Soobin left for work, leaving you and Yeonjun to discuss the details at a table in the main quad. He had ever so kindly bought you a lemonade that you were happily sipping on as you opened your notebook to a blank page.

"What's that for?" Yeonjun asked, drinking an iced coffee.

"The details. I mean, I think I should know what's expected of me if we're gonna pull this off, yeah?"

You were agreeing? "Mm, I love an obedient girl." You made a face at his joke, making him laugh. "I'm kidding...kind of. Anyway, does this mean you're gonna help me?"

Nodding you grabbed a pen from your backpack. "I mean, I have nothing better to do, and I'm intrigued by this dinner party. Now, tell me what kind of girlfriend would your mom want you to bring home?"

Yeonjun thought up a list of things his mom would look for in a potential daughter-in-law. Honestly, you thought it wasn't too demanding at all...just a nice, loving, smart girl.

"Oh, do you have any nice dresses? You'll want a nice dress," Yeonjun suddenly remarked. "We can go shopping for one together before the dinner. Besides, I think it'd be good for us to spend some time together and try to learn a little bit about one another to really sell this."

Wow, a free dinner, possible connections, possible money, and a free dress? This was a pretty sweet deal. "Yeah, that sounds good," you told him. "I think that we should also come up with a list of rules."

A small groan left his mouth as he said, "No! Don't tell me you're into those stupid movies. A list of rules is never good."

You giggled at how against it he was. "I don't mean rules like 'You must kiss me on the cheek once every couple of hours.' By rules, I mean things like 'Don't leave me alone for extended periods of time' or 'Don't mention this and that around my mom.'"

"Oh," Yeonjun said, not realizing at all that that was what you meant. "Yeah, that's smart. Let's do that."

Briefly, you guys came up with a set of basic rules that definitely needed to be followed. A smile appeared on your face as you wrote something down. "What? What are you writing?" he asked. You handed him the notebook and he read aloud, "'Absolutely no romance! Hand holding and hugs only! Don't fall in love!!!' Well, that goes without saying. You wrote that just to spite me, didn't you?"

As you nodded proudly, Yeonjun chortled and shook his head. Things were definitely seeming to go well. All he could hope was that the dinner would go smoothly.

♡♡♡♡

Yeonjun was in your apartment waiting for you to finish getting ready. He was looking around at all of your things when the door opened. "Y/N! Are you--oh, hell," a girl greeted him. It was Yeji, your best friend and roommate. "You must be Yeonjun, right? Y/N told me about you."

Well, not so much about him, but rather about the deal you two had. "It's nice to meet you," Yeonjun said, feeling a bit awkward all of a sudden. It was kind of pointless getting to know one another when this was a one-time thing.

"Ok, ok," you said, rushing out of your bedroom as you haphazardly put your earrings in. "Sorry, I'm ready. Oh, Yeji, good, you're home."

A big smile appeared on Yeji's face. "Y/N! You look so pretty!" she exclaimed. You were wearing black heels and a simple yet beautiful periwinkle dress. "This dress is gorgeous."

You couldn't hide your smile or your blush, never one that did well with compliments. "Thanks...Yeonjun picked it out for me."

Turning to look at him, Yeji found Yeonjun looking away as he shyly scratched the back of his neck. "I just thought it was a nice dress," he mumbled, unsure what to say. "I gave it to her, and it ended up looking really good."

Was he trying to compliment you? Yeji couldn't tell, and it seemed to go right over your head. "I'll, um, wait in the hall," Yeonjun added before leaving the apartment. He felt uncomfortable with Yeji around. There wasn't anything bad about her, but it almost felt like he was meeting your mom, which wasn't something he was used to.

"He's handsome!" Yeji exclaimed, somewhat lightly hitting your shoulder. "You're so lucky."

You giggled, shaking your head as you adjusted the new heels. They felt uncomfortable since they were new, but you'd manage. "Why? It's one fake date," you reminded her. "I hope you enjoyed looking at him while you could...you're probably never gonna see him again. Not around here, at least."

Ugh, sad. "Well, you shouldn't keep him waiting. Have fun and be safe, ok?"

Nodding, you two hugged before you joined Yeonjun in the hall. You were surprised to learn Yeonjun could drive, but you were definitely glad since it meant you guys didn't have to take the bus; you didn't want to risk ruining the dress.

"Nervous?" Yeonjun asked as he slid into the driver seat after he let you in first.

Were you nervous? "A little bit. I want to pull this off," you remarked. "Plus, I'll be surrounded by tons of people I don't know, so that's a bit worrisome. I'm sure I'll be ok, though."

Yeonjun watched you fiddle with your fingers nervously, making him chuckle lightly. His hand rested on your hands, stopping them from their movements. "It'll be ok. Besides, you'll have me there."

His words made you relax a bit, offering him a thankful smile.

The house you two arrived at belonged to Mr. Choi's boss, and it was the most beautiful mansion you'd ever seen. "I didn't even know there were mansions in Seoul," you said as you got out of the car. You always thought there were too many buildings to have mansions.

"Well, not downtown, of course, but in the outskirts of the city like this, they're quite a few," Yeonjun explained to you as someone went to park his car.

You suddenly felt underdressed, but Yeonjun had been the one to dress you. Glancing at him, you had to remind yourself of what he was wearing: pin-striped slacks, a white button-down dress shirt, and black loafers. It was a nice outfit, but a more casual business-like outfit.

"Are you sure I'm not underdressed?"

Yeonjun glanced at you, seeing that you seemed a bit worried. "You're definitely not underdressed," he informed you. "The parents and other employees tend to be overdressed, but you'll fit in with the rest of us."

That definitely made you feel better. "Ok," you said after letting out a shaky sigh. You held your hand out to him. "Let's do this."

He smiled, taking your hand in his own before you two entered.

"Yeonjun! You're here!" Mrs. Choi called out when she spotted her son, her eyes lighting up when she saw you two holding hands. He released your hand to give his mother a hug. "And you must be Y/N. I'd be lying if I said I've heard so much about you, but I'm certainly looking forward to getting to know you."

You hadn't been expecting her to hug you, too. Yeonjun laughed at your panicked expression. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am," you said when you separated. "I apologize that we didn't tell you about our relationship sooner. Yeonjun was just nervous about us meeting...you know how guys can be."

She nodded before saying, "Oh, yes, Mr. Choi was so nervous about me meeting his parents that we were practically engaged before it happened! I'm not surprised that Yeonjun takes after him...especially since you're his first girlfriend."

His first girlfriend? That was surprising. "Mom, I'm gonna take her to meet some of the others," Yeonjun said, feeling embarrassed.

"Oh, alright, but I will be stealing her from you later to get to know her."

He hummed in understanding before once again taking your hand in his own, leading you away. "Who are the others?" you asked, beginning to get used to the way his hand felt holding yours. It wasn't a stronghold, but it was a secure one.

Taking you up the stairs, he said, "There are other children of employees here. Most of them are younger and suck, but the boss's son Beomgyu is cool."

"Wait, you still haven't told me what company your father works for."

Glancing back at you, a smirk appeared on Yeonjun's face. It made your heart flutter slightly. "He works for SJ Group."

That made you nearly choke on your own spit. SJ Group was one of the biggest conglomerates in Seoul! No wonder Soobin said you could make great connections at the party. "I'm at a dinner party for SJ Group?!" you cried out in a hushed tone so no one else would hear you. He nodded, finding your reaction amusing. "How could you not tell me! This is a huge deal, Yeonjun! I haven't even had time to mentally prepare. Do you know how many questions I could have prepared?"

Reaching out, Yeonjun booped your nose. It made you stop talking, totally shocked by the action. "Calm down, nerd," he told you, making you scowl. "It'll be fine. Just getting on their radar is good. Plus, they'll remember you since you're here as my girlfriend."

Well, that was a start at least. Knocking at one of the doors, Yeonjun stuck his head in, finding Beomgyu on the couch in his room playing video games. "Hey, you're here!" Beomgyu exclaimed, happy to see his friend. "Right on time, too; I was starting to get really bored."

Just like Yeonjun, Beomgyu didn't care for work parties or the other children. "Oh," Beomgyu added when you followed Yeonjun into the room. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N, my girlfriend," Yeonjun informed him.

Oh, he wasn't in on the plan? Beomgyu suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. "This is your girlfriend? Yeah, right! Come on, dude, really, who is she?"

It made you feel insecure. Were you not good enough for Yeonjun? He was quite handsome, but you didn't think you looked that bad in comparison. "I fucking hate you. She's my fake girlfriend to trick my mom...it's a long story."

"I'm, um, going to use the restroom," you said, turning and leaving before either boy could say anything. You didn't even know where the bathroom was, but you didn't care. At least you'd have time alone to search for it.

Yeonjun hit Beomgyu's arm. "Dude, you probably hurt her feelings!" he exclaimed.

That made Beomgyu's eyes widen. "I didn't mean to! I just meant that there's no way a guy like you could land a girl like her," he explained to his friend. "Just based on appearance, you guys are opposite. She's all light and precious, and you're dark and gloomy. Plus, she's too hot for you."

Rolling his eyes, Yeonjun commented, "I could totally land a girl like Y/N...she's just not my type."

But, Beomgyu made a good point. You were far more put together than he was. Plus, his jet black hair, tattoos, and piercings made him seem emo to many people. Sure, he was a troublemaker in the past, but he wasn't like that anymore. He skipped classes and partied a lot, but he wasn't causing trouble. Still, just from the few hours he spent shopping with you, he could tell he wasn't your type, too. For some reason, that irked him.

Yeonjun sat down to play video games with Beomgyu. It wasn't until the end of their second-round that Yeonjun realized you hadn't returned. "Shit, I forgot about Y/N," he remarked, standing up.

"Wow, some boyfriend you are," Beomgyu teased, earning a glare from his friend. "Come on, let's look for her. I should make an appearance before dinner, anyway."

The two left Beomgyu's room to search for you. Thankfully, they didn't have to search for too long as you were out on the patio alone with Yeonjun's mother. She must have intercepted you.

"I guess I just worried Yeonjun would never find a girlfriend," Mrs. Choi told you, making Yeonjun's cheeks light up. Beomgyu had to stifle his laughter. "He never mentioned any girls before, and it seemed that he pushed them away. I always thought girls might be scared of his appearance or something."

She thought that? "Yeonjun was quite popular in high school. A lot of the girls in our year were into his bad boy appearance, actually. He always got the most gifts during Valentine's Day, too," you explained to Mrs. Choi. "His locker would be full of them by the end of the day, but I don't think he cares for the holiday because he always threw them out. Still, he made sure to do it when no one else was around, and I think he did it to spare their feelings."

You knew he did that? He always thought he was alone when he did. "I just think Yeonjun is a bit misunderstood. He may look intense and standoffish, but he's actually really kind and considerate. I remember one day in high school when it was raining. He had brought an umbrella to school that day, but he ended up leaving it on the desk of another student that had forgotten their own. Really, I noticed he was always doing sweet things for the others, but I don't think he ever thought much about it. I think he just saw it as something natural that he didn't need to gain anything from."

Mrs. Choi was surprised by the slight sparkle in your eyes as you spoke about her son. "I never knew about any of that. Well, I'm glad to hear he was so popular. I knew you were special the moment I laid eyes on you, Y/N, but I guess it makes sense since Yeonjun chose you out of all of those girls," she told you. It wasn't true at all, and, even if it was, he hadn't chosen you in high school, but you didn't say anything. "I'm just glad he met someone that can see the real him...someone that can see his pure heart."

Yeonjun had to recover from his shock, unable to listen to you talk about him any longer. "There you are," he spoke, going outside to interrupt. "I was starting to get worried, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised that my mom stole you."

After all, she said she would. "We were having a lovely conversation. Weren't we, Y/N?"

"Yes, I was enjoying it," you commented. You were surprised to find that you meant it, and Yeonjun was surprised that you sounded so sincere.

The four of you, including Beomgyu, went to join the main party for dinner. Surprisingly, you talked to many of the other guests, and you found that the conversations were quite interesting and enjoyable. You had expected to be alone most of the party, but the conversations just came naturally.

Time was slipping away from all of you, and you were only snapped back to reality by a loud clap of thunder. "I didn't even realize it was raining," one of the guests confessed, looking outside as it was pouring. "Was there any rain in the forecast?"

It seemed the storm was an unexpected one. With knowledge of the storm, everyone slowly but surely began to leave the party. "Yeonjun," Mr. Choi spoke, walking over to where the two of you were standing. "Your mother and I have decided the road conditions are too poor for you to be driving. We insist that you and Y/N stay the night with us. We can have someone bring your car home in the morning."

What? Staying the night? That was certainly not part of the plan. Then again, neither was the storm. You couldn't blame Yeonjun for any of it. "What? You want Y/N to stay the night?" Yeonjun asked, clearly just as flustered as you.

"Well, you don't expect her to hitchhike to Seoul or get a hotel, do you? She's your girlfriend, after all, son. Besides, your mother seems quite ecstatic about having her over."

His parents had a point; the road conditions were poor and only getting worse by the minute. The idea of driving home worried you. "I'm grateful that you'll have me, Mr. Choi," you said, unsure of what else to say. "They're right about the roads, Jun...especially at this time of night."

He was too caught off guard by the sudden nickname to argue. That was how you two ended up in his bedroom back at his parent's house. The house was huge. It wasn't as grand as Beomgyu's place, but it was still nicer than anything you were sure you'd ever be able to afford.

"I assume you two are fine sleeping in here together," Mrs. Choi said, fixing the bedspread. "I mean, you two are adults, after all. It's probably not your first time sharing a bed."

She laughed at her own words, happily teasing her son. "Mom!" Yeonjun cried out, making her laugh once more. "It's late, and I'm sure we're all tired."

It was his way of telling her to leave. Thankfully, she decided to give him a break. "Sleep well, kids," she said, gently smoothing your hair before leaving.

"Your mom is really nice," you commented.

He chortled. "Yeah, it must be nice for you when she's not saying something to embarrass you every five minutes," he pointed out, making you giggle. "I think it worked, though...she seems thoroughly convinced."

There had been times even he forgot momentarily that it was all fake. "Nice job with that nickname, by the way."

You beamed at him. "Thank you! I thought it would be a nice touch."

"Why don't you wash up first? My mom left some pajamas for you in the bathroom," he told you.

Nodding, you went to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. Yeonjun grabbed his phone to text Soobin about how everything went. As he was doing so, he saw a text from Beomgyu.

It read: I take it back...you and Y/N even fooled me tonight. You guys look cute together, and she seems really sweet. Maybe think about everything before you "dump" her.

Beomgyu was admitting he was wrong? Geez, what a crazy night. Things went well, but almost too well...it was definitely an unexpected night.

"I should text Yeji before she worries," you mumbled to yourself as you sat on one side of Yeonjun's bed after you had both washed up. "She thinks you're hot, by the way. I don't know if you were interested."

Why were you telling him that? "I'm not interested in anyone else but you, angel," he said jokingly, gently caressing your face.

Your body was on fire, feeling embarrassed by the pet name and sudden affection. Worst of all, you didn't hate it. "Stop messing around."

He chuckled, watching you get under the covers. "My mom really likes you. In fact, you were a big hit at the party. I think the other moms were jealous." Turning the lamp next to his bed on, he shut the main lights off, climbing in next to you.

"Well, I really like your mom, and I enjoyed myself tonight. I had so many interesting conversations," you told him, and he was glad you had a good time. "Speaking of which...you've never had a girlfriend?"

He forgot his mom had said that. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he said, sighing softly.

You shook your head, turning on your side a bit to look at him. "No, I'm genuinely surprised. In high school, you were always the hottest guy in our grade...some girls made a list. I mean, I guess I never saw you with a girl, but I guess I just thought you dated."

"I don't really think being hot is a compliment. Like, obviously it is, but I feel like girls thought I was hot without knowing anything about me. They focused on my looks, so that was what they liked me for, nothing else."

That was actually sad, but he had a point...being hot wasn't some great compliment. "Well, I'm honored to be your first girlfriend, even if it is fake," you told him, making him crack a smile.

It reminded him of your conversation with his mom. "I heard you telling my mom you thought I was a good person in high school," he confessed to you. "I didn't know you were so obsessed with me."

You rolled your eyes and said, "Oh, fuck off. I was the class president, so I paid close attention to everyone. But, I really did think you were sweet, and I still do. I don't know why you act like you're not, Choi Yeonjun, but I can see right through you."

He sat up a bit to look at you, surprised by the effect that your words had on him. This was all supposed to be fake. Things weren't supposed to go this far...Yeonjun should have dropped you off at your apartment with no intention of ever seeing you again. He wasn't supposed to find you cute, and he certainly wasn't supposed to want to kiss you.

"Let's go to bed," he said, turning to light off.

You were surprised but didn't say anything, wondering what had gotten into him all of a sudden.

All he could do was lie awake in the darkness, unable to stop the voice inside his head telling him that he should have kissed you. But, what right did he have to kiss you? After all, you were only strangers.