#or corruption by the forces of chaos

[lordcaptains]

:(

:)

[star-pound-star]

'Shared pastries': NYT reports Trump admin 'broke policy' by meeting with terrorist group

Trump administration officials met three times with senior Hamas officials, according to sources who spoke to the New York Times, to discuss the release of the last living American Israeli hostage in Gaza, after the president has made clear he wants all hostages to be released.

"The March talks underscored the Trump administration’s ad hoc approach to diplomacy," the newspaper reported. "But in the face of furious Israeli opposition, Hamas’s hesitation and the Trump administration’s shifting position, an agreement to free the hostage, Edan Alexander, never came together."

[atwas-gaming]

A little snippet from Sonic Quest 2. But it got me wondering: where exactly did Eggman get the idea for the Death Egg, and what did he actually intend to use it for? (In the games, I mean.)

In Sonic 2, we only see a couple of hallways where the battle takes place. In 3&K, we finally get a look at the whole thing, and I gotta admit, it's IMPRESSIVE.

I don't recall if we see it again before Forces, but by then, it's a massive orbiting space station complete with a prison and (presumably) a torture chamber.

Best I can tell is that it's some kind of robot factory, and it does have some good firepower, because Eggy blew up Lava Reef with it. Not sure, but this might be where Metal was born, so to speak, given that Silver Sonic was probably built on the Death Egg (not to mention the Death Egg Robot and Big Arms). Also, it's clear from 3&K that Eggman was planning on stealing all the Super Emeralds and M.E. and, no doubt, keeping them on the Death Egg, probably to power the thing and make Eggman invincible. And... who knows? Make the entire world bow at his feet by creating a laser capable of destroying the planet? I mean, the thing was named after the Death Star, so this seems like a logical assumption to me.

But wait a second... a giant, orbiting space station with a planet-destroying laser, all built by one supergenius named Robotnik, who also manufactured a "fake" hedgehog and housed one or more Emeralds on board to power his scientific endeavors.

Gee, I can't figure why all this sounds so familiar.

Guess the egg don't roll far from the nest, eh, Professor?

[flamingredanon]

*pokes my head out of the sweltering void*

What if the Tunisian Diamond, Romanian Ruby and Norwegian Emerald were actually some ancient artifacts of long ago of some kind that were imbued with some kind of magic?

Or they were actually cursed objects and just touching them bare handed causes some sort of magical or chaotic side effect to the said person?

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🧪 Character Arcs 101: what they are, what they aren’t, and how to make them hurt

by rin t. (resident chaos scribe of thewriteadviceforwriters)

Okay so here’s the thing. You can give me all the pretty pinterest moodboards and soft trauma playlists in the world, but if your character doesn’t change, I will send them back to the factory.

Let’s talk about character arcs. Not vibes. Not tragic backstory flavoring. Actual. Arcs. (It hurts but we’ll get through it together.)

─────── ✦ ───────

💡 what a character arc IS:

a transformational journey (keyword: transformation)

the internal response to external pressure (aka plot consequences)

a shift in worldview, behavior, belief, self-concept

the emotional architecture of your story

the reason we care

💥 what a character arc is NOT:

a sad monologue halfway through act 2

a single cool scene where they yell or cry

a moral they magically learn by the end

a “development” label slapped on a flatline

─────── ✦ ───────

✨ THE 3 BASIC FLAVORS OF ARC (and how to emotionally damage your characters accordingly):

Positive Arc They start with a flaw, false belief, or fear that limits them. Through the events of the story (and many Ls), they confront that internal lie, grow, and emerge changed. Hurt factor: Drag them through the mud. Make them fight to believe in themselves. Break their trust, make them doubt. Let them earn their ending.

Negative Arc They begin whole(ish) and devolve. They fail to overcome their flaw or false belief. This arc ends in ruin, corruption, or defeat. Hurt factor: Let them almost have a chance. Build hope. Then show how they sabotage it, or how the world takes it anyway. Twist the knife.

Flat/Static Arc They don’t change, but the world around them does. They hold onto a core truth, and it’s their constancy that drives change in others. Think: mentor, revolutionary, or truth-teller type. Hurt factor: Make the world push back. Make their values cost them something. The tension comes from holding steady in chaos.

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🎯 how to build an arc that actually HITS (no ✨soft lessons✨, just internal structure):

Lie they believe: What false thing do they think about themselves or the world? (“I’m unlovable.” “Power = safety.” “I’m only valuable if I’m useful.”)

Want vs. need: What do they think they want? What do they actually need to grow?

Wound/backstory scar: What made them like this? You don’t need a tragic past™ but you do need cause and effect.

Turning point: What moment forces them to question their worldview? What event cracks the surface?

Moment of choice: Do they change? Or not? What decision seals their arc?

🧪 Pro tip: this is not a worksheet. This is scaffolding. The arc lives in the story, not just your doc notes. The lie isn’t revealed in a monologue, it’s felt through consequences, relationships, mistakes.

─────── ✦ ───────

🛠️ things to actually do with this:

Write scenes where the character’s flaw messes things up. Like, they lose something. A person. A plan. Their cool. Make the flaw hurt.

Track their beliefs like a timeline. How do they start? What chips away at it? When does the shift stick?

Use relationships as arc mirrors. Who challenges them? Enables them? Forces reflection? Internal change is almost never solo.

Revisit the lie. Circle back to it at least three times in escalating intensity. Reminder > confrontation > transformation.

─────── ✦ ───────

🌊 bonus pain level: REVERSE THE ARC

Wanna make it really hurt? Set them up for one arc, and give them the opposite. They think they’re growing into a better person. But actually, they’re losing themselves. They think they’re spiraling. But they’re really healing. Let them be surprised. Let the reader be surprised.

─────── ✦ ───────

TL;DR: If your plot is a skeleton, your character arc is the nervous system.

The change is the thing. Don’t just dress it up in trauma. Don’t let your character learn nothing. Make them face themselves. And yeah. Make it hurt a little. (Or a lot. I won’t stop you.)

—rin t. // thewriteadviceforwriters // plotting pain professionally since forever

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

[toasterkoi]

Still your jaded shadow was forced to look upon

Sights not even a ghost should have to see

And as he slumps so listed, he cannot bear to watch

And yet he cannot draw his gaze away and flee

The reason why there's a white baby fuzz Shadow there holding current Shadow's hand is because it went with my headcannon from that one post I did where he originally had that coat color before he was injected with Black Doom's DNA. (VERY briefly, though)

A homage to what he could've been without the impurity that attached itself to him, the alien dna. Which is ironic in a sense, as Shadow is who he is as an indirect result of Doom's influence.

I really liked a comment on that previous post about the headcannon that said something akin to how his white fur that was left over represented the only place Black Doom failed to corrupt: his heart. Like YES!!! PREACH!!!

And, he has all this chaos energy and some kind of alien power that has dangerous consequences if not kept in check (he didn't know this he was like...10 minutes old) Gerald, of course, was aware of this about Shadow, but paid no mind to warn the hedgehog of his capabilities, as he was sure he had the means to control such a consequence. A fatal flaw of his part. So maybe he had crafted the inhibitor rings beforehand but kept them as a failsafe of sorts.

I imagine that Maria was looking to spend time with newly-released Shadow on a regular morning where she was feeling better, show him some of her favourite songs, or create fun mischief around their space-home, but oddly couldn't find him anywhere. Gerald was probably off doing further research for how to link Shadow to Maria's illness. She found herself peeking into an old storage room where the lights were off, and the door slightly pushed open as if someone had entered but not returned. And then... there's a horrifying and mutated elderich horror in the corner that's growling in pain. It's Shadow, and Maria knew that despite the melting and mutating figure in front of her appearing nothing like a small hedgehog. Because, despite the horrid and dark goup, deep down, it was still Shadow.

She was awfully calm about the entire encounter, too, and managed to get Shadow the help he needed to come back to his hedgehog form. I feel like this says alot about their closeness and relationship, because I bet if a rookie, overworked, below minimum wage employee and scientist walked in on mandela catalog Shadow like that, they would've screamed, peed their pants, and run away. They are NOT getting paid enough for this. (Unless they're used to stuff like that, but idk I'm not a scientist on the ARK guys). Just my thought dump herherher

[hellcab]

{{ Gonna be rewriting Roth's bio to . . . include important and updated details and what not. }}

[star-pound-star]

Cadets who met all Air Force Academy graduation standards denied commissions because they’re transgender

They stood in formation at Falcon Stadium, diplomas in hand, having met every standard of physical endurance, academic excellence, and military discipline. But, on Thursday, when the time came for the U.S. Air Force Academy’s class of 2025 in Colorado Springs, Colorado, to commission as second lieutenants, three cadets were quietly held back.

They are the first out transgender cadets to graduate from the Academy. And under a newly reinstated Trump administration ban, they will not be allowed to serve.

One of them, Hunter Marquez, had spent years preparing to become a combat systems officer. He earned dual degrees in aeronautical engineering and applied mathematics. He passed the Air Force’s fitness standards for men. And he did so as himself, having transitioned while enrolled at the Academy. “I really want to stay in for as long as possible, fight this out,” Marquez told The Colorado Springs Gazette.

But the rules changed. On May 6, the U.S. Supreme Court allowed the Trump administration to begin enforcing Executive Order 14183, which bans transgender people from military service. The unsigned order—issued without full argument and over the dissent of the Court’s three liberal justices—overturned a Washington state lower court’s preliminary injunction and gave the Pentagon the green light to begin separations.

Marquez, along with the two other graduates, was placed on administrative absence, barred from taking the oath, and warned he might need to repay the cost of his education if he refused to leave voluntarily, the paper reports. That education—funded by taxpayers—is valued in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. According to The Gazette, Marquez was later told by Air Force officials that if he is involuntarily separated, he won’t be billed. But the message was clear: his government does not want him in uniform.

And yet, there is no question he met the standard. “We want warfighters. We want people with grit, that are resilient. They have done all that,” a U.S. Air Force Academy staff member told The Gazette, speaking anonymously for fear of retaliation. All three cadets passed physical fitness tests for both men and women. All three graduated with distinction.

What disqualifies them is not their performance but their identity.

[soldiersgirl]

— 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲/𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨 .ᐟ

summary — the people's princess and the people's prince, that's what you were promised. the reality? he was the best worst thing to happen to you, yet.

cw — supe!fem!reader x soldier boy. payback era. 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it), spit kink, teasing, corruption kink (kinda), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, name calling (slut, whore, princess, baby, sweetheart, angel), degradation, cursing, edging, riding, drugs, drinking, mentions of manipulation blackmail, mean & soft ben.

word count — 3,844 words

you were laying there, in the haze of the moment, trying to remember a time before him, before all the chaos and turmoil. life had been calm, somewhat boring, but tolerable before being head-hunted by vought. life in a rural, suburban town had its perks; you knew everyone and everyone trusted you despite your... curse, as you called it; "powers" by everyone else.

they weren't super powers, they weren't a gift. it was a curse set upon you; the responsibility too big to bear for only a little girl when they first showed up. the mind reading and mind control. touching your mum's hand in comfort and seeing her whole life flash before your eyes; her thoughts, her wants, her sins. the same with your father.

you hadn't, willingly, let anyone touch you for 20 years, not up until you were thrusted into the spotlight and ben's experienced hands.

he had crushed the bennies with the bottom of his hunting knife on the edge of his bedside table before lining up the fine powder over the valley of your bare breasts. he couldn't coerce you into taking them with him like he wanted, so he had to resort to taking them off you instead. you lay with bated breath as he chuckles to himself before snorting the drug, his nose dragging over your full breasts; his hands cupping them softly to make sure you keep still. unlike last time, when you fucking spilled the powder all over and he had to lick it off of you like a dog, lapping at his water-bowl. you can't help but admire his hardened features as he pinches his nose and rests his head on your breast, feeling the full effect of the drugs.

the freckles that dance over his nose, his moss green eyes and the gentle wrinkles surrounding them, his plush rose lips, that both spit venom and whisper honeyed words.

for as long as you can remember, no one touched your bare skin unless it was arranged and paid for, by your parents. while you were still young and impressionable, they talked you into "using your powers for good". people paid you, or rather your parents, to make you control them, "help" them. help addicts drop their addiction, no matter what it may be. help people work harder, better to get that promotion. help politicians get votes, get laws passed. help people fall in and out of love. no matter what it was, it had a price and many were desperate enough to pay it. it was a vicious, endless cycle but you were seen as a selfless saviour to those in need.

which is exactly why vought wanted you, needed you. some recent controversies and mild scandals had landed payback in hot water with the board members and pr team. allegations of drug use, violent bar fights, bribing, sex. you name it and the members of payback had probably done it. and here you came in, to save their name and reputation.

the crowd cheered as you stumbled onto the stage, the board members sitting front row looking pleased with themselves and payback sneering behind you, their eyes silently warning you; threatening. your hair had been curled and styled to perfection and you had been forced into a, somewhat, modest lilac suit that hugged each curve deliciously; if you asked soldier boy. along with matching gloves to keep you from accidentally reading someone's mind.

it was a fear that you carried with you at all times. with just a brush or graze of your hands against theirs; all their deep, dark secrets spilled and exposed. no matter what or how much you saw, you kept it all tightly locked up and pushed deep down so that it would never spill over the surface. you could barely live with yourself anyway, but it wasn't your place to ruin others lives in return.

"mystara!" the host announced as he slipped his arms around your shoulder and shook you as you forced a smile. "small town girl coming to big town new york! us, at vought, are delighted to announce that she'll be joining your favourite team, paybaaaack!" he pointed back at the vexed members who all plastered on fake smiles, similar to yours. they all waved ceremoniously, arrogantly to the crowd. soldier boy swaggered forward, pushed the host back to replace his arm around your shoulder and grabbed the mic from the host with a smirk.

"we are more than thrilled to have such a beautiful addition to our team. especially as she is my new girlfriend!" he said through gritted teeth. vought had worked hard to ensure that the marketing was in place. pairing you and soldier boy would only increase numbers. the soft-spoken mind-reader with the brutish, rough killer? it was almost too good and too easy. "we can't wait to work with her and make her a valued member of the team. ain't that right, sweetheart?" he turned and your eyes finally met. you could barely manage to keep the eye contact, his eyes demanding your attention as he held the microphone to your quivering lips. all you could hear was crimson countess scoffing behind the pair of you.

"thank you, s-soldier boy. i am so pleased to be here, so excited for this opportunity. i owe this to my parents, stan edgar and most importantly you, b-babe." you stuttered through your PR approved speech. soldier boy planted an unexpected kiss on your cheek before hissing in your ear.

"if you ever use any of your fuckin' tricks on me, i'll destroy your fuckin' pathetic, little life. you got that, sweetheart?" all you could do was stand frozen and just nod. "atta girl." he laughs and gives your ass a small pat.

"if only they could see you now, baby, hmm?" ben sighs as he pepper kisses across your breasts, his tongue poking out and flicking at your hardened nipple, chuckling as you squirm. "not so sweet and innocent as you would have them all believe." he hums as he sucks at one nipple and pinches the other, whilst whimpers fall past your bitten lips. "who knew you could be such a whore? such a sweet, obedient whore for me..." he groans as he leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses down your heaving chest and tensed stomach.

"you're so mean." you huff in protest, arching your back to feel his lips better against your supple skin.

"shut the fuck up, you love it." he scoffs, swiping his fingers through your folds and admiring the slick that adorns his fingers. "look how fucking wet you are and i've barely even touched you." his eyes sparkle as he brings his fingers to your mouth, inviting you to taste. your defiance isn't appreciated and he roughly grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open and stuffing his fingers against the pad of your tongue. "fuuuck, sweetheart." his voice filled with adoration as you wildly suck and run your tongue over his fingers.

he knew he destroyed everything he touched, but he just couldn't keep his hands off of you. since he first saw you, he just knew that you were the one for him. underneath your innocent eyes and soft-spoken nature, you were hungry for acceptance; for someone to love you for you and not fear you. a feeling he mirrored and knew all too well.

he pulled back his hand, a string of saliva connecting his digits to your panting mouth. he slightly slaps your clit with his spit-covered fingers, messily running them back and forth over your most sensitive spot, relishing in your pleading.

"ben, ben- please, oh fuck-" you beg, as your hands pull and tug on the cotton sheets beneath you. it only ignites ben's excitement as he roughly spits on your pussy before dragging up pointed tongue up through your folds and settling on your tortured clit. he hungrily devours you as he wraps his toned arms around your thighs and tries, but fails, to keep you still as you feverishly buck your hips against his gifted tongue.

"god, you're so fuckin' needy, aren't you? always fuckin' beggin' and pleading for me." he mumbles against your folds, his tongue still working to pull the first orgasm out of you. "you're just my lil needy princess, aren't you? does my princess want to cum on soldier boy's tongue?" you can only squeeze your eyes shut and nod as your senses are overwhelmed. "look at me." another slap against your pussy. "look. at. me." ben demands. his eyes could burn a whole through yours with the intensity of his gaze as you start to lose control and cum all over his tongue. he loosens his grip on you and let you grind your pussy against his tongue, as he smirks and savours your taste coating his tongue.

ben wastes no time climbing on top of you, smashing his lips onto yours and your tongues intertwining with one another. to your surprise, he pauses to rest his forehead against yours and stroke your cheek.

it took you weeks to settle into your room and role at payback, no one took you seriously but simultaneously they feared you. dodged you when you got too close, afraid of what you would see, of what you would think of them. ironically, you didn't care enough to want to know their secrets and regrets, you could barely carry those you already had tried to forget.

but what you had forgotten is that your life wasn't yours to control. you were nothing but a puppet to the company that had threatened to "send you away" if you didn't comply.

you would pose as a secretary during vought meetings with a wig and all, shaking hands with international elected officials and relaying the information to vought management for extortion and blackmail purposes. influencing presidents, CEOs, and industry moguls to strategically invest in vought and help pass supe-positive laws to allow more human testing and production of compound v. anything to make vought more money.

however, it didn't stop there. the more power-hungry vought got, the more you were pushed around and forced to go against your morals. over the past several weeks, you had been sneaking into the payback member's individual rooms to gain intel and to make them more... complacent to voughts ideas and suggestions. but when it came to soldier boy, you flat-out refused. no matter how much you screamed and shouted at your managers, your worries were pushed aside.

that's how you found yourself sneaking into his room against your own will and better judgement. he looked so vulnerable when he slept, his brows furrowed only slightly and his hair swept beautifully across his hardened features. you're not sure how long you just stood there and just admired him, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and touch...

what you hadn't known that night, was that soldier boy was wide awake. he wasn't surprised; he knew why you were there and what vought was up to. but what surprised him was that you just left, without using your powers on him like he had expected and defying vought.

he thought about you for days until one evening, he thought it was finally time to confront you, to get some fucking answers. it was just after midnight and all the members had gone to bed after some heavy drinking and drug-taking in the payback conference room; everyone except you. you were never invited and never expected and that suited you just fine. you had witnessed how that shit could destroy lives too many times to count and you heeded the warnings. three loud knocks rapped at your door pulling you out of your thoughts. you sat your book down, instinctively pulled on your gloves, padded over barefoot and opened your door.

"s-soldier boy." you gasped. he looked down at you with a sneer, his brows in a deep frown and his soft, unstyled hair falling just in front of his analysing eyes. he simply grunted as he looked you over; no makeup, messy hair, pink pyjama set and your fuckin' gloves. he silently pushed past you and walked into your bedroom, leaving you frozen and confused at your door. you quickly closed the door and turned to the contrasting, intimidating figure in your girly bedroom. like a western stand-off, you both stood and just watched one another, waiting to see who'd break first.

"why?" he barked at you, making you flinch.

"why what, sir?" you asked carefully.

"don't give me that sir bullshit." he snorted. "do you think i'm fucking stupid, huh? why didn't you touch me that night with your freaky-ass powers? i know you're doing it to all the others, by the way. i've seen how you sneak in and out of their rooms, how they're suddenly acting different and think everythin' vought does is just revolutionary. i see you." with each sentence, he makes his way over to you right until he's towering over you. you feel like a wounded animal at the end of a hunter's gun, silently begging for freedom.

"i- i couldn't. i was afraid of what i'll see. afraid of how you would react if you worked it out. afraid of you." you quietly admit, deciding it's better to be truthful and once you started, it was hard to stop.

"but what if i wanted you to see?" he muttered in response.

he had pushed and folded your legs tightly against your chest as he mercilessly pounded his thick cock into you, with one hand wrapped tightly around your dainty throat and the other grabbing your thigh to stabilise himself. the only sounds filling the room were your hushed begging and ben whispering the most foul words into your ear as you came undone under him.

"god, please- ben, im so close, please.." you begged endlessly and breathlessly as his grip on your throat tightens.

"always so fuckin' tight, princess. god, you're so cock-hungry, it just keeps suckin' me in. fuck." he groans as his stubble rubs against your ear. his hips snap ruthlessly against yours, your gummy walls contracting and clamping around him. "d'you wanna come, baby? gonna cum all over my cock, like the slut you are?" as your eyes roll into your head, you somehow manage to nod and let out a weak "yes, please...". his teeth nipped and tugged on your ears before travelling down and leaving sloppy kisses all down your neck before biting down on your shoulder. marking your silky skin and watching with glee as the teeth marks decorate your skin as a reminder of who you belong to.

he pealed himself away to gaze softly down at you and your completely fucked-out state. god, he was convinced that he would never grow tired of this sight, which is why he immediately stopped, leaving you high and dry. tears threaten to form and roll down your reddened cheeks as you stare at him, mouth agape and band right about to snap.

"my sweet angel, i'm not done with you yet." he hums as turns you over onto all fours and slowly starts to thrust again as he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, starting the torturous process all over again.

he had grabbed your wrist and slipped off your glove as you fought and yelled in protest. this is the last thing you wanted. you weren't ready to face the horrors that his psyche hid. but he wanted to give you the full truth so he could pour some out and share the in the guilt you carried, together.

"stop!" you yell out. "no, fuck! don't, plea-" his fingers had intertwined with yours and everything flashed before your eyes like a bomb had gone off behind your eyes.

his abusive father, his distant mother, his trauma-filled boarding school days, injecting the compound v and the pain that followed. all the fake pr stunts; normandy beach, ww2, helping the soldiers. the drugs, the women, the drinking. killing, murders, bodies beaten to a pulp. the desperate need for approval, for acceptance, for something real. like you, his life was no longer his and he feared the worst. the last thing that appeared in front of your eyes was as clear as day: his dirty, unfiltered thoughts of you.

you wrenched your hand from his grip and staggered back, your mind a whirlwind.

"don't ever fucking do that again." your chest heaved with anger. "you don't have the fucking right to do that! no matter who you are!" you snatched back your glove and put it on.

"did you see it all?" he asked calmly. not what you expected.

"i saw everything." you nod.

"... and?"

suddenly, the towering figure in front of you had transformed into the young boy who yearned for love and understanding. he had never wanted to be feared but it was wired into his new dna and he couldn't shake it no matter how much he wanted to. you couldn't help but soften up and almost... pity him.

"and i see you." you repeat his earlier words back to him. he lets out a loud sigh and runs a hand over his rugged face. "i- i had no idea. about everything. i'm sorry." ben scoffs in response.

"i don't need your fucking sympathy. i just needed you to know that..." he hesitated. "i understand and i'm not afraid of you. you shouldn't be afraid of me. i don't want you to be." he edges closer to you, grabbing the tips of your gloves and slowly sliding them off, his eyes never leaving yours. he held your hands in his as if they were porcelain, bringing one up and kissing one of your fingertips to show the depth of his words. "our hands are weapons used against our will. but together, you and me, we can resurrect something beautiful."

"ben." you gasp, all of this unexpected.

"you know i want this. my dirty thoughts of you, they were never mine to keep." he sighed before leaning down, ever so slightly, and brushing his lips against yours. you grab the back of his neck and bring his lips to yours in a heated clash of tongues and teeth. you knew he was going to wreck you, but you wanted nothing more than to give in and seek comfort in your american psycho.

that's how you ended up here; riding ben like your life depended on it. your tight walls hugging bens cock like your pussy was made for him and his hands fitting perfectly on your hips as he guided you. he swallowed your loud moans as your lips tangled together and your tongues intertwined. his hips bucking up to match your frenzied tempo as you lost yourself in the sensation of being completely filled by him. he threads his finger through your hair and tugs on it, yanking your head back, making you yelp and hiss in pain.

"i love the way you hurt me." you rasp out in between rough thrusts and playful bites across your chest; the harsh purple bruises a contrast to your delicate nature. ben grins against your neck as he reaches around and slaps your ass with a groan.

"god, i have really fucked you up, haven't i? my baby, so fuckin' dirty." he chuckles as he leans back and folds his arms behind his head to watch the show you're putting on for him. "show me how much you fuckin' need me and i might let you come on my cock." you claw at his chest with your lilac nails, that match your supe-suit, as you grind down onto him with full force. the sweat cascading down your back and slick covering ben's thick thighs.

that was a pro and con of being supes; you could fuck for hours, but you could also get fucked for hours without room for a breather. you were sure that ben had fucked you stupid after edging you on for what felt like hours as he rides his bennie-filled high and gets to see how you fall apart under him.

"you know that only good sluts get to come on my cock, don't you?" he laughs as you notice your pace slacking, your body soon couldn't take anymore. he forcefully grabs your jaw; his pupils completely blown leaving only a ring of bright green around them. he taps your lips and you open them with a second thought, something that he programmed into you. he spits into your mouth and watches adoringly as you roll it around in your mouth before swallowing it and resuming your previous frenzied pace. his rough hands grab your hips, squeezing your supple skin as he fucks his cock deeper into you. within seconds, you're finally coming all over him as you curse and pant his name like a prayer.

"fuck- nggh, oh my fucking god, ben.. ben, ben!" you shout as he comes with you; the feeling of being filled with him was like no other. he lazily thrusts into you whilst carefully laying you on your back and adorning your face with soft kisses and whispered "good girl"'s. you share one final, deep kiss; filled with unsaid emotions and promises to one another before he lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom to get you cleaned up.

two misplaced puzzle pieces, finally belonging and forming a picture no one else could see.

you weren't sure who affected who more. you had been introduced to the world of desire and sin by ben; he was your first everything and he revelled in that fact. knowing no one had heard or seen you the way he does, fuck. it was like a whole new drug and it's potency was almost deadly. you had gotten more calculated, with his encouragement, and were using your powers for your own good and not just at the behest of whoever held your leash. you confronted your parents and had cut off the contact, although the damage was done. you were still the people's soft princess to the adoring crowds, but you had evolved into something more sinister; more selfish. and nothing could get in your way now.

in comparison, ben had gotten calmer. he didn't throw himself into women, drinking and drugs like before, only occasionally dabbling in taking a hit or two of whatever he had lying around. men like him is what love destroys and his harsh outer layer was slowly eroding. his vicious appetite for destruction and violence needed less feeding and attention. his sole purpose was to protect you and ensure that you both would never be denied the happiness he knew you deserved. he considered what was better; to be feared or to be loved. but he had come to the conclusion that "one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, it is much safer to be feared than loved."

thanks to you, he had both.

a/n: WELL. i hope you like this one too guys; it was so much fun to write and rather self-indulgent. i'm considering ACTUALLY make this fic a series, i love their dynamic. this was based on another favourite song of mine that immediately makes me think of the loml, ben, when i hear it <3 long live fall out boy

-`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @doeinlace (comment or inbox me to be added)

[strawberrysznn]

Beauty AND brains. Your knowledge is your weapon.

Let's not only be insanely beautiful but also disgustingly educated. Other than discipline and hard work, your knowledge is your weapon in this world of chaos, something that you can sharpen and use.

Where can you expand your knowledge? What areas, what topics

How can you expand your knowledge? In different circumstances and preferences such as if you're too busy or if you have a short attention span

Where can you expand your knowledge?

I DO NOT mean that you need to be an expert at everything. You don't need multiple degrees for each type of intelligence. However, if you want to sharpen your weapon, sharpen your knowledge.

These are the areas where you CAN sharpen your knowledge AND the areas where you SHOULD know the basics in:

Emotional, Communication, Morals, Ethics. Be human, and make others feel human too. Cultivate empathy, understand mental health, build your conscience, and differentiate right from wrong. Communicate frequently and effectively.

History, Culture, Politics. The world is chaotic — learn to stand your ground. Understand history, politics, corruption, culture, and the overlooked heroes. Know what shaped the past to navigate the future.

Digital Literacy. The internet is a double-edged sword. Learn to navigate it safely, protect your privacy, spot misinformation, and adapt to evolving technology.

Manners, Etiquette, Body Language. The way you present yourself matters. Respect others, read unspoken cues, and master the art of presence.

Self-Sufficiency, Life Skills, Livelihood. You won’t always have someone to rely on. Cook, clean, manage time, handle money, and adapt to life’s challenges. Be independent.

Literature, Language, Writing. Words are power. Read, write, and communicate with depth. Language shapes history, culture, and thought—use it wisely.

Critical Thinking, Problem-Solving. The world isn’t black and white. Question everything, analyze critically, recognize manipulation, and think for yourself. Don't be swayed easily by others.

Science and Math. The foundation of everything. At least know the basics, enough to understand the forces shaping the world — logic, numbers, and the universe itself.

Self-Care, Hygiene, Fitness, Health. Your body and mind are your greatest assets. Eat well, stay active, manage stress, and prioritize your well-being before it’s too late.

How can you expand your knowledge?

When you have free time When you're busy When you prefer learning visually When you have little to no attention span

You are what you consume. Now that you know what topics you can expand your knowledge on, these are what you can use / do to consume those information:

Have some free time? Do / use these

Read books, take online courses, or watch in-depth documentaries. (Example: history books, finance courses, science explainers) Engage in discussions or debates to refine your thinking. (Example: politics, ethics, critical thinking) Try hands-on learning like experiments, DIY projects, or journaling. (Example: cooking, coding, writing) Attend workshops, seminars, or community events.

Too busy? Do / use these

Listen to podcasts or audiobooks while traveling, doing tasks / work / school work, or doing chores. (Example: podcasts on Spotify / Tiktok, Youtube videos where the creator is more on speaking, audiobooks on Audible or by downloading a free e-pub format e-book online then uploading it into Google Playbooks and using the audiobook / text-to-speech format) Follow bite-sized content on social media. (Example: short educational / history Tiktok videos, digital literacy infographics, photos on Pinterest) Take advantage of apps and tools for productivity, learning, etc. (Example: budgeting apps, language-learning apps) Watch short, informative videos during breaks. (Example: TED-Ed, Ted Talks, short Tiktok videos)

Like to learn visually / by watching? Do / use these

Watch video explainers, documentaries, or animated infographics. Use apps that gamify learning. (Example: Duolingo for language, Codecademy for coding) Follow visually engaging content creators. (Example: finance charts, body language breakdowns) Make mind maps or illustrated notes to break down complex topics. (Example: self-care routines, political structures, problem-solving techniques)

Little to no attention span? Do / use these

Learn through short-form content like TikToks, reels, or infographics. Play interactive or gamified learning apps. (Example: strategy games, trivia quizzes) Follow meme-based or storytelling-style education accounts. Try hands-on, fast-paced activities. (Example: debate flash rounds, real-world problem-solving challenges, DIY experiments)

Begin small, learn the basics, take a step at a time, and start from there. Be BOTH beauty and brains. You have a weapon (your knowledge), sharpen it and use it.

[somnoir]

Prodigal son beyond Time - part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Damian first met his great uncle Danyal when he is three years old. His mother says he's met him long ago, when he was but a babe with a memory too fuzzy to remember. But the man before him is his grandfather's favorite child. The son that scowls at his father as he cradled Damian in his arms.

"What have you done?" His uncle scowled, a gentle hand pressed against the back of Damian's head. "He's a child!"

"Danyal!"

"You weren't like this with me." Danyal spat, keeping Damian in his arms and pressing his lips towards his nephew's forehead. Damian notes how cold his uncle's skin felt like, but more welcoming than that of his grandfather's.

"Danyal, he is to be trained like a proper Al Ghul." Grandfather said, frowning at Danyal.

"You trained me like a proper Al Ghul when I was older than him!" Danyal immediately protested, "He's three!"

"Danyal—"

"Ukht, I understand that you wish the best for your son but this is not it." Danyal immediately said, looking apologetic for interrupting Talia, but went back to glaring at Ra's. "I've tried to tolerate the fact that you handle an assassin league, father but this? You taught me to be loyal to the family. You taught me to cherish the family, you're blood—why the fuck aren't you giving the others the same treatment you gave me?!"

"Because they are not you!"

Damian doesn't recall what truly happened that day, but he does remember how his uncle's eyes went from soft blues to the same shade that the Lazarus pits glowed.

Damian remembers everything going dark.

Damian grows up differently.

He continues on his training, but everything is kinder to him. The world is kinder when his uncle is home, having tea with grandfather and overseeing his training. Mother loves him and uncle Danyal the most, claiming that they are blessings to her life.

Grandfather is quieter nowadays, almost docile with his uncle around.

It's a little more peaceful. The assassin's continue to train, to fight. But their reign of terror fall upon those that are corrupt and destroying the world. It's one of the compromises uncle Danyal and grandfather have led too.

Damian grows up differently.

Damian's arrival to the Bats' lives was unprecedented and quite confusing. He was a child raised by assassins, a child raised to become the next leader of the league. But he was... Strange. Strange for that kind of standard. 

Damian was rather sociable, hostile but not downright murderous towards them. 

His uncle did make sure that he had friends in the league.

Ra's had been utterly ecstatic to find out that he had two more grandchildren while Talia was quite pleased to know that she had a niece and nephew. 

Damian had a pair of strange cousins who snuck him out of training to go watch the stars, often getting them scolded, but it was worth it. Dante was older than Damian by five years. He was what other would call an angsty teen with how he often rebelled against his father. Meanwhile, Janelle—preferebly Ellie—was only a year older than Damian himself. She was a mischievous person who made sure that everything around her was swallowed by her own chaos. So when he entered the manor, suddenly struck with the reality that he had multiple siblings instead of just one elder brother, Damian knew what to do. 

Murder was not the answer. 

But by the words of his gracious uncle and the wisdom of his excellent cousins: fight your siblings like a feral child but defend them by being even worse to others. 

So Damian's first act as Dick Grayson's younger brother was to bite him. 

The undead were restless, rising from their graves or haunting their own corpses. It wasn't something they usually dealt with, forced to call upon magicians. 

But even Constantine was bewildered by just how cursed Gotham's lands were. To bring back the dead. Jason was a miracle but this was like an abomination, a literal zombie. 

No one really knew how to properly deal with the dead...

Well...

"My uncle would be willing to provide his assistance in this matter." Damian piped up, examining the contained zombies from a safe distance. All eyes were quickly drawn to him, bewildered and questioning. 

"I hardly think that Dusan would be suitable for this." Bruce sighed. 

Damian scowled, "Not him. My grandfather's first-born is whom I speak off. He is knowledgeable in the occult arts of the dead." 

"Damian... Ra's Al Ghul only has one son." 

"Untrue. Grandfather's greatest pride was always my uncle. He is precious to grandfather and ensures that no one knows much off him. I expected you and Drake to be aware of the first born." 

Tim stiffened, "They weren't rumours?! Ra's actually has some cryptid son?" 

Bruce, who had heard of the old tales of the Demon head's beloved heir, had always thought they were stories to scare the assassins. He's never seen the man, nor has he found any evidence of him in the league. 

Jason finally started paying attention, "So the league's golden boy can help? Dami, I don't think Al Ghul will even let his favorite kid anywhere near us." 

"You underestimate my uncle's love for me."

"You met him?" Bruce quickly interjected. 

Jason shrugged, "He helped me out back then. Patched me up when the pit madness got worse and helped me manage it. But his face was usually covered and no one really knew his name."

"Aside from myself, grandfather, and my mother." 

Bruce frowned, "Nyssa and Dusan don't know their brother's name?" 

"Grandfather says that they do not have the privilege of knowing his name. Mother was the first of his other children to have met my uncle."

"And what about you? You won't give us his name?" 

Damian scowled, feeling rather displeased with his father's choice of words. "Names are powerful, father. My uncle taught me this when I was young." 

Constantine narrowed his eyes, "You're uncle some kind of fae, kid?" 

"Watch your mouth, hellblazer. He does not like you." Damian hissed, having heard all his uncle's rants about the Laughing Magician, especially whenever he'd just randomly pick up Talia and walk around Nanda Parbat like she was a kitten rather than a deadly assassin. "But I shall call upon my great uncle and ask him for assistance. This matter with the undead shall surely pique his interest."

"Tell the old man I said hi!" Jason cheerfully added, sounding quite pleased to hear about the mysterious uncle. 

"No." Damian blatantly denied. As much as he loves Todd (and he will never admit that), he was not going to let anyone threaten his status as his uncle's favorite child. Over his dead body. 

Damian was quick to walk away from all of them, quickly retrieving all the materials he'd need to summon his uncle. Dark green paint for the summing circle, five candles, and an astrology book. 

"Bats... Why the hell is your son performing a summoning ritual? For a ghost of the realms too." Constantine's tone was strained, clearly disturbed and wary of Damian's actions. 

"Damian." Bruce warned but Damian just waved him off. He watched as Jason started lighting up the candles, humming an unfamiliar tune. 

"D'you think the old man will help us?" 

"Of course! Uncle adores me." 

"You think he'll give me his name?"

"I will gut you, Todd." Damian immediately responded with the most nonchalant tone he could ever give. 

Jason shrugged, before taking a step back. 

"Damian! Whatever you're summoning—" 

"I'm summoning my uncle, father. He's the best person to go to with these issues." Damian insisted, before muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Bruce was startled when Constantine grabbed him, eyes wide and rapidly turning pale. "Why the hell does your son know how to speak the language of the—"

Fire burst forth from the circle, slowly morphing into an icy blast. 

"Dead." Constantine's breath hitched, "Holy shit, your brat just summoned the ghost king." 

Bruce grabbed Damian the moment a hand emerged from the blast of cold. He shoved his on behind him, suddenly feeling frightened as his entire body felt goosebumps. Fuck. Did Damian really just perform a summoning ritual for such a powerful being? He never expected for Ra's to brainwash his son into believing that such a powerful thing—

"Nephew!" 

Bruce blinked, suddenly blinded by the light. 

"Uncle!" Damian escaped from his grasp, rushing into the circle. Constantine practically screamed once Damian ran into the arms of what was supposedly his uncle and the ghost king. 

In front of Bruce was the most gorgeous man he's ever met. 

The floating hair that reminded him of snow and the green eyes that were purer than the Lazarus pits. He couldn't help but swallow thickly, blinking. Damian was held up by the ghost king, allowing the boy to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. 

"Hello, dami (my blood)." The king cooed, his pronunciation of the nickname much different from the shortened version of Damian's name. "I was not expecting you to call me. What's happened, my dear?" 

Damian hummed, but before he could speak, he was immediately interrupted.

"Long time no see, old man!" Jason yelled, waving his arm as if he wasn't in the same room as the king. 

"Jason! Hello! How are you? The corrupted ecto hasn't returned, has it? If it has, just tell me. I'll schedule a check up with Frostbite." The king quickly fussed, not minding the way Damian was baring his teeth at Jason. "Damian, behave!" 

Damian just seemed to whine, refusing to behave and opting to pestering the king. 

"I'm good, uncle. Haven't gone out crazy since you took me to the doctor." Jason smiled, already ripping of his domino mask to show that his eyes were green tinged with blue, not glowing green like the pits. 

"Good, good. But I really must know why I've been called." The king softly said, directing his words to Damian who was already trying to wriggle our his grasp. Gently, the king settled Damian back on his feet. 

"Right. Uncle, my father, Batman. Father, this is my uncle." Damian introduced, his tone hurried and a bit hesitant. 

The king, Damian's uncle, smiled at Bruce. "Hello there, Mr. Wayne. I've wanted to meet you for a long time." The king hummed, "My name's Danny, but the Al Ghuls call me Danyal." 

"Uncle!" 

"Hush, hush, Damian. I can give my name to anyone I want. I don't suppose that your father is worthy of it."

Bruce really should be more concerned about the fact that the king knew his name. 

"But what of the others?" 

"Little one, I sent Nyssa and Dusan letters ages ago. But rest assured, dearest Talia is still the first to earn it." Danny—Danyal—the ghost king softly spoke and patted Damian's head. "And... Oh, it's you."

"Your majesty!" Constantine enthusiastically greeted while Danny scowled. 

"Tax evading bastard." Danny huffed, shaking his head before promptly ignoring the tax evading bastard in question. 

"Damian." 

"The dead are rising."

Danny blinked, blinked again, before he groaned and shook his head. 

"Okay, sorry. That seemed to be caused by an error on my side. Some prisoners of my realms started a riot and some of them managed to break out. Some have most likely decided to overshadow their old bodies." Danny sighed, "I'll have this taken care of. Apologies for the inconveniences."

"These... Zombies have been wrecking havoc across my city." Bruce frowned, "They've been harming people."

"Vengeful spirits do that. They're criminals meant to be in prison. It's rare for breakouts to happen, in all honesty." Danny paused, just long enough to run his fingers through Damian's hair. "But if you wish to take charge, by all means. These are corpses being possessed by their own spirits and... Well... They're out of their minds. Not really considered revenants since the possession isn't quite permanent." 

"Alright, Bats. We've gotta make a proper deal here. His Majesty was summoned so we've gotta offer him something—" 

"That's not necessary." Danny immediately waved Constantine away, evident displeasure from the man. "The sigil I gave Damian was just to call me to him. No need for an exchange."

"Seriously?" Constantine blurted out. 

Danny just shrugged, "He's family. And my favorite nephew." 

Damian smirked, absolutely smug. "I am your only nephew, uncle."

"Mm... Jason's also my nephew." Danny chuckled softly, easily stepping out of the circle and removing it from the floor—leaving not a single stain. "Now... Shall we deal with the dead?" 

Bruce Wayne has made many bad decisions in his life, especially when it came to his relationships. Damian's ghost king of an uncle might be one of them.

Masterpost

[reilemon]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Possession 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

♡︎ synopsis: You move into an abandoned mansion looking for a fresh start. Little did you know you're not the only one living there.

♡︎ pairing: demon!Sylus x fem!reader

♡︎ cw: restraints, corruption (if you squint), breathplay

♡︎ word count: 10k

♡︎ a/n: the fourth story for kinktober 2024.

♡︎ Thanks to my dearest friend and beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

The night wraps around you like a vice, pressing down on your skin. Every breath feels heavier than the last as the low, eerie hum seeps into your bones. The melody is fractured, broken, sung by something that doesn’t understand human warmth. It’s wrong, so wrong, and the more you hear it, the harder it is to pretend that everything is normal.

You sit up in bed, the silk of your nightgown sticking to your skin, cold sweat beading along your neck and back. You strain your ears to listen, catching every sound the house makes—the creak of floorboards, the low groan of the wind clawing at the windows. But beneath it, that humming persists, growing clearer.

A footstep.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Something is walking—no, pacing—just beyond your bedroom door, almost as though it knows you're listening.

You tell yourself, ‘this is ridiculous’. You’ve lived here almost two weeks, nothing dangerous has happened.

Two weeks living in this forgotten, decaying mansion. At first, the isolation felt like a cure, a place where you could finally breathe after years of soul-sucking work. The realtor had been so eager to sell it. You remember that first visit—dust motes swirling in the dim afternoon light, the scent of mildew hanging in the air. The long-abandoned estate was priced absurdly low for such a massive property. You had asked about its history, about the family that owned it. “Old money,” the realtor said dismissively. “They never even lived here, not really. They’re eager to get rid of it.”

You pressed her—why would they abandon a mansion like this? She’d shrugged, evasive. “Just one of those things, you know? Big house, lots of upkeep. Not practical anymore.” She'd forced a smile, deflecting. “People want something more modern these days.”

At the time, you didn’t care. You wanted solitude, escape, a place to start over after the chaos of your previous life.

In the first week, you brushed off the oddities. The strange cold spots in the halls, the faint scent of smoke that seemed to come from nowhere, the occasional flickering of the old lights. You reasoned ‘the house is just old, settling’. Maybe it was the stress from the move, or just the overwhelming quiet after years of city life.

But then, things became harder to dismiss.

You remember waking up one night to the sound of soft whispers, like voices just beyond your door. You convinced yourself it was a dream, that you were still half-asleep, that your mind was playing tricks on you. But when you opened the door, the hall was filled with an icy draft, despite every window being locked tight. Your skin prickled with the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

With every night, your paranoia has grown. You’ve stopped sleeping through the night. Every creak, every gust of wind outside feels like a threat. The humming has become a nightly occurrence —soft at first, almost melodic, but it twists, becomes distorted. And tonight, the footsteps. They’re louder. Closer.

You sit there for too long, your mind racing. Each beat of your heart pounds in your throat as you try to summon some logic to ground you. ‘There has to be an explanation’. You’re not some helpless woman in a cliché horror movie. You won’t let fear consume you.

But the footsteps stop, right outside the door. And in that moment, the air feels too thick to breathe.

Fuck.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the cold floor shocking against your bare feet, dragging you out of paralysis. The silk robe slides over your shoulders, its fabric a poor defense against the dread crawling up your spine. You move slowly, the wooden floor beneath you creaking with each step toward the door. Your fingers hover over the handle for a moment, hesitation making your hand shake.

‘It’s just a draft’, you tell yourself, though the words feel hollow. ‘Just the old house’.

You open the door. You swallow, flipping the light switch with a trembling hand, lighting the empty hallway. The old bulbs buzz and flicker before casting their weak glow, but the light feels sickly. You take a deep breath, forcing your legs to move, fingers brushing along the wall as though the contact will somehow steady you. With every step, the hum grows fainter, retreating deeper into the house, drawing you further from the safety of your room.

The sitting room’s light flickers as you pass, casting distorted shapes along the walls. The silence between the hums stretches, amplifying the creaks and groans of the house around you.

The dining room is next. You hesitate at the threshold, your breath hitching as the light stutters overhead, threatening to plunge you into darkness again. But it holds, if only just. The hum is still distant, still teasing, but now there's something else—something heavier beneath it. A low, barely audible rasping breath, like the sound of something alive, breathing with you.

Your hand grazes the light switch to the kitchen, fingers trembling. The moment the light flares to life, it dies.

The room plunges into complete darkness. A thick, suffocating blackness that feels like it’s crawling over your skin. Your pulse spikes, cold panic flooding your veins. The hum is gone now—replaced by the unmistakable feeling that something is in there, waiting, watching.

A faint whisper—right next to your ear, soft and malicious—sends a scream clawing up your throat, but you bite it back, too terrified to make a sound.

‘Move. Move, now.’

You stumble backward. The floor seems to shift beneath you as you flee towards the stairs. You crash into the bedroom, your breath ragged, chest heaving. You slam the door shut with a resounding thud, and the thin wood feels too fragile, too weak to keep anything out. You press your back against it, gripping the doorknob with trembling fingers, your raging heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You stand there, frozen, waiting for something else to happen. But nothing does. No footsteps, no whispers, no movement beyond the door. Just stillness.

You exhale, forcing yourself to unclench your hands from the doorknob, willing your body to stop shaking. ‘Get a grip’, you tell yourself, trying to suppress the waves of panic that threaten to consume you. You're not going to lose your mind over this. ‘It's just the stress. That’s all.’ The isolation, the strangeness of living alone in such a vast, decrepit place—it’s been messing with your head. You force your breathing to slow, sucking in deep, calming gulps of air.

Pushing away from the door, you cross the room and sit on the bed, retreating back into the sheets. It’s late—too late to do anything about it now—but in the morning, you’ll change every lock in this mansion. No more creaky doors, no more unlocked windows. You’ll seal every inch of this place if you have to. And you’ll call Tara. She’d laugh at you at first, no doubt. She teased you for choosing to live in such a remote, old house. "You’re gonna end up starring in one of those haunted house stories," she'd said, half-joking. You smile weakly, despite the dread gnawing at your gut. It’s time to take her up on her offer to visit. Tomorrow, you’ll call her.

Lying back on the bed, you try to focus on the plan—changing locks, calling Tara. You’ll handle this like you handle everything. The house creaks softly, as if responding to your newfound resolve. You ignore it, pulling the sheets up over your face, the fabric cool against your skin. ‘Sleep’, you tell yourself. ‘You need sleep’.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The next day arrives sluggishly. You barely slept through the night, but daylight always brings a faint sense of hope. You push yourself out of bed, running through the motions, pretending for a moment that everything is normal.

Tara arrives just after lunch. You open the front door for her, her playful smile greeting you. But it quickly fades when her eyes catch the tension in your shoulders, the dullness of your skin. "You look like hell." You want to make a joke or a clever comeback in return, but the weight of the last two weeks presses too heavily on you. So you just let her in. You’ve told her over the phone this morning already, but now you tell her everything in more detail. You tell her about the footsteps, the humming, the cold spots. How the house doesn’t feel right.

"Okay," Tara says after a moment, her brows furrowing. "I’m not saying I believe in all that, but I’ve read enough ghost stories to know we don’t mess around with this kind of thing. I brought something." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a bundle of sage. "We’ll burn this. Clears out bad energy, or at least it’s supposed to. Couldn’t hurt, right?"

You stare at the bundle for a moment, feeling both ridiculous and relieved. Maybe it’s silly, but she is right, it can’t hurt to try. "Thanks," you mutter, trying to smile.

"And I’ll ask around, see if anyone knows a good priest," Tara adds, her tone light again, though you can hear the genuine concern beneath it. "Someone could come over and bless the place, right? If nothing else, it’ll give you peace of mind."

You nod, though part of you still feels absurd for even considering it. Together, you and Tara walk through the house, lighting the sage. The oppressive weight that has been weighting you down lifts, just slightly. The creaking stops, the cold spots seem to fade, and for the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe.

"See? Not so bad," Tara says, giving you a reassuring smile. "It already feels better in here. Maybe that’s all it needed—some good ol’ sage and positive vibes."

You nod, grateful, feeling a spark of hope. Maybe this is all it took. Maybe that’s the end of it.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

That night, you follow your routine, trying to remain calm. You lock every door, check every window, twice, and make sure nothing is out of place. By the time you slip into bed, you’re exhausted. You lie there in the dark, the cool sheets against your skin, your eyes slowly fluttering closed.

But in the depths of the mansion, something stirs. The energy has changed, shifted. The air hums with a barely-contained agitation, a dark presence swirling in the corners, crawling through the walls. It had been watching you, waiting. And now, with the sage burned and the mention of a priest, it’s no longer content to simply watch.

A sound pulls you back from the edge of sleep. You freeze, straining to listen. At first, it’s faint, like distant laughter. It’s low, dark, amused, seeping through the room as though it’s mocking your very presence here. You sit up abruptly, your pulse spiking. The laugh is gone, but the air feels colder now. The wind outside picks up, slapping against the windows, and then—you hear it. A loud, sharp caw. A crow’s cry, shrill and eerie, slicing through the still night air. You turn your head toward the window, expecting to see its shape perched on the sill, but there’s nothing there, just the empty darkness beyond the glass.

‘It’s just a bird’, you tell yourself. ‘Just a bird’.

But then the footsteps start again.

They’re louder this time. Not like before when you could pretend it was just the old floorboards shifting. No, these are deliberate. Heavy. The distinct sound of boots on wood, moving slowly down the hallway outside your bedroom. Each step echoes through the house, growing louder, closer, until they stop right outside your door. You can feel your pulse in your throat, every instinct screaming at you to stay in bed, to not make a sound. But the silence is oppressive. You can’t just lie here anymore. You push yourself up on shaky legs, feet hitting the cold floor as you move toward the door, your hand hovering over the knob like before. But this time, you don’t need to open it.

The door swings open on its own.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, everything is still. The dark hallway stretches before you, stretching into nothingness. But then, at the far end, you see it—a faint, flickering glow. A dim, blood-red light. It pulses, stronger with each passing second, growing brighter, sharper. Your chest tightens as the glow intensifies. You swallow hard, a cold sweat forming on the back of your neck as the realization hits you that this—whatever it is—isn’t something you can ignore.

“Who… who are you?” you stammer, your voice trembling, barely above a whisper. “What do you want?”

The red glow flickers, focusing on you. You feel it in the air around you. The presence you’ve been denying, the thing that’s been watching, waiting. Now you’ve acknowledged it. It begins to solidify, drawing closer. The figure takes form—broad shoulders, a tall, towering frame. And then, his face. Sharp, defined features, red eyes, and silver hair. His gaze locks onto you, and it feels like he’s peering into the deepest, darkest parts of your soul.

You stumble back, heart racing, unable to comprehend what you’re seeing. This can’t be real. This has to be some nightmare. But he’s there, standing before you, fully formed—real.

“I’ve been waiting,” he says, his voice deep.

You stand frozen, every inch of you trembling. This isn’t some ghost story, some figment of your imagination. You take a step back, your legs weak, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest. “W-waiting for what?” you manage to choke out, though your voice barely rises above a whisper.

His smirk widens. “For you to understand,” he says softly, his tone almost condescending. He takes a step closer and the floor creaks under the weight of his boots, the sound amplified in the eerie silence of the mansion. “This place… it’s mine. Always has been.”

You stumble backward again, your mind racing, desperate for some way to rationalize this. But you can’t. The thing standing in front of you isn’t human. “I don’t understand,” you whisper, shaking your head. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

He laughs softly at that, a low, dark chuckle. “I am not the intruder here,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. “You are.” His eyes narrow, the humor fading, replaced with a cold, hard edge. “This house, this mansion, has been mine for centuries. I’ve seen generations come and go, trying to claim it as their own.”

You’re barely holding on, fear coursing through you. “Who… who are you?” you ask again, though now your voice is almost a plea.

He leans in, his face close enough now that you can smell the faint scent of something burning, something ancient. “I am Sylus. This house… my house… it’s been mine longer than you can imagine. And you—" His gaze sharpens. "You’ve been tampering with things you shouldn’t."

He steps back. "I’ll give you a chance. Pack your things. Leave." His words are like a command, absolute, and it makes your chest tighten.

Something in you snaps.

The fear, the dread that’s been building for days—it all crashes into something else, something raw and angry. You clench your fists. Leave? After everything? You’ve fought too hard to be told to just give up.

"No," you say, your voice trembling, though whether it’s from fear or anger, you’re not sure. His smirk widens, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as if amused by your defiance. "No?" he repeats, the word dripping with condescension, as though your resistance is nothing more than a child’s tantrum to him.

But you’re not done. "It’s not fair," you continue, and you can feel the flood of emotions you’ve been holding back surging forward. "I worked for this. You don’t get to tell me to leave!" Your voice rises, trembling with frustration. You can feel your eyes burning with unshed tears. "I can’t just… pack up and go?! This place was supposed to be my fresh start!"

Sylus’ amusement falters. He was expecting fear. Submission. Not this. Not the raw emotion pouring out of you.

You take a shaky breath, your words tumbling out now unfiltered. "I’ve given up everything! My life was a wreck before I came here. I had no friends, no purpose, nothing.” Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t stop, the anger blending with exhaustion. "This place was supposed to be my dream," you whisper, your voice cracking. "And now you’re telling me to leave? After everything I’ve been through?”

Sylus says nothing for a long moment. He stands there, watching you with an intensity that feels almost suffocating, the mocking air that surrounded him fading as something shifts in his expression. His tail, once flicking in amusement, goes still. He opens his mouth, perhaps to laugh, to mock you again, but no sound comes out. Something about your defiance, your honesty, seems to catch him off guard. He had expected you to cower, to run, to tremble at his mere presence. Instead, you’re standing here, pouring your soul out in front of him.

The room is silent.

 Sylus’ gaze doesn’t leave yours. "You think your struggles give you claim to this place?" His voice is softer now, almost contemplative. "You’re not the first to come here, seeking something better. But none of them stayed for long."

You don’t back down. "I’m not them," You say quietly. "I’m not running."

Sylus watches you for a long moment, his sharp features unreadable. Finally, he speaks, his tone more subdued, more thoughtful. "You have spirit, I’ll give you that." You stand there, still trembling, but something in the air feels different now. Sylus, for all his power, doesn’t seem as dismissive as he did before. He turns around, giving you one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the shadows. "Don’t bring a priest. Don’t burn any more sage. Consider this a warning.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the nights are quiet.

After the tense confrontation with Sylus, after his warning and your emotional outburst, something shifted. You still feel him—his presence lingers in the mansion like a shadow that never quite leaves—but it's no longer oppressive.For several nights now, you’ve slept soundly, undisturbed by the creaks of the floorboards or the strange hum echoing through the halls. And though you sometimes catch a glimpse of movement in the shadows, Sylus doesn’t show himself. It’s as if he’s made a quiet, unspoken truce with you, staying out of your way—for now.

A week passes, and the mansion almost feels… peaceful. Maybe it’s the quiet, maybe it’s the way you’ve started to make the space your own despite his warnings. You’ve begun to settle in, unpacking more boxes, putting things in order, reclaiming the mansion in small ways.

One evening, you decide to tackle the attic. You pull the creaky ladder down and climb, your flashlight casting light across the wooden beams and piles of forgotten items. The air is thick with dust, and the faint smell of mildew hangs in the air. Boxes are piled high, old trunks and forgotten furniture clutter the space, draped in old sheets. You take a deep breath, brushing away cobwebs as you start sorting through the old belongings. It’s mostly junk—old letters, tarnished trinkets, broken ceramic figurines. But then you open a wooden music box and your eyes immediately land on something shiny.

A brooch.

It’s in the shape of a raven, carved from some kind of dark metal, accompanied by a large red gemstone. The moment your fingers brush against it, the air in the attic grows thick. You can feel a chill crawl up your spine as you lift the brooch, turning it over in your hand, examining the beautiful craftsmanship.

That’s when you hear him.

"Put it back."

You whirl around, and there he is—Sylus. His red eye glows brighter than usual, flickering with barely contained agitation. His tall frame looms over you, his tail flicks behind him, tense, snapping in the air like a whip.

You freeze, the brooch still in your hand. "Why?" you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

"That doesn’t belong to you," Sylus growls. He takes a step closer. "Put it back in the box. Now."

Slowly, carefully, you place the brooch back into the wooden music box. The moment you do, you can feel the tension in the room ease. Sylus watches, his eyes never leaving the brooch until it's safely out of sight. His broad shoulders relax, his tail flicking behind him in a slower, more measured rhythm.

"Why does it matter so much?" you ask, genuinely curious.

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on the closed music box. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, more guarded, as though he’s choosing his words carefully. "It was made for someone. No one should be touching it."

There’s a story there, buried deep beneath his cold exterior, but he’s not offering it to you.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. Your mind spins with possibilities, but you keep your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to pry further into something clearly painful. Instead, you glance at the music box, not daring to touch it again. Its melody feels strangely familiar. You pause, recognizing the tune—the same haunting melody you’ve heard in the dark, late at night.

"Is this… the song you’ve been humming?" you ask carefully, lifting your gaze to meet his.

His eyes narrow, but there’s no anger there. He doesn’t answer immediately, but after a long silence, he gives a short nod. "It is."

A soft breath escapes you, and you can’t help the small smile. "Well," you say, your tone a little lighter "you’re always off-key." The words slip out before you can stop them, and for a moment, you freeze, wondering if you’ve crossed a line—if teasing a demon was, perhaps, not your smartest move.

Sylus blinks, his expression unreadable at first, but then—he chuckles. The sound is rough, almost rusty, as though it’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to find humor in anything. "I didn’t know I had a critic," he mutters with a trace of amusement.

You let out a shaky breath, relieved, but still stunned by the sound of his laughter. You find yourself staring at Sylus, watching the way his red eyes soften, the way the usual predatory edge to him seems to dull, just for a moment. You don’t know what to say, but you don’t need to. Finally, Sylus breaks the silence, his voice quieter, less guarded than before. "Be careful with what you touch in this house," he says, though there’s no threat behind his words, only a quiet warning. "Not everything here belongs to you."

You nod, understanding more than he’s willing to say. "I didn’t mean to…" you trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, the faintest smile on his lips. "I know." And with that, he turns, his figure dissolving into the shadows of the attic, leaving you alone once more.

But this time, the air doesn’t feel so heavy. The mansion doesn’t feel so hostile.

And Sylus doesn’t feel like a demon lurking in the dark anymore.

For the first time, he feels like someone who’s been through more than you could possibly imagine. Someone who’s carrying the weight of loss and pain for centuries. And somehow, despite everything, you’ve seen a glimpse of something human in him.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The days that followed felt different. The mansion, though still steeped in its eerie silence, seemed to breathe a little easier. Sylus, who had always been a constant, brooding presence in the shadows, began to make himself known in new ways. You would be working around the house—organizing a room, fixing up old furniture, unpacking boxes—and you’d feel him. A brush of air, the faintest warmth at your back.

He never fully revealed himself during the day, not at first. But there were brief moments, when you’d catch a glimpse of him—standing in the doorway, his red eye glowing faintly before he slipped away, or a flash of silver hair in the corner of your vision. And slowly, he started to help.

At first, it was subtle. You’d be struggling to move a piece of furniture, and when you turned around to grab something for leverage, it had already shifted into place, as if someone had pushed it for you. Tools you needed would be mysteriously laid out before you reached for them. And sometimes, when you lost track of time working on a project, you’d find a fire already lit in the fireplace before the chill of the evening would creep in.

One afternoon, you were standing on a chair in the kitchen, trying to reach a high cabinet when you suddenly lost your balance. Before you could even cry out, you felt strong hands on your waist, steadying you, with a firm grip. You turned to find Sylus standing there, his lips curled into that familiar smirk.

"Careful, kitten," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Kitten. The word caught you off guard, and you blinked at him. Something about the way he said it—so casually, yet with a hint of affection—left you speechless. He had called you ‘kitten’ like it was the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t mind the new nickname. Not at all.

The touches became more frequent, intentional. When you passed each other in narrow hallways, his hand would brush against your arm, or his fingers would trail along your back. Every touch would make your heart flutter, your cheeks heat up.

One evening, your muscles ached after hours of working tirelessly around the mansion. You sat by the fire, sipping tea in an attempt to relax. The room was quiet, except for the crackling of the fire, but then you felt it—his presence. Sylus was watching you from the doorway.

“You’ve been pushing yourself,” he said, his voice smooth like velvet. His eyes focused on your hand as it pressed against your shoulder, kneading the sore muscle.

“Maybe a little,” you replied, leaning back into the chair, letting your eyes close for just a second. “But I can handle it.”

Sylus chuckled softly. “You don’t always have to be so stubborn.” He leaned in closer, standing next to you. “Let me help.” His hand rested lightly on your shoulder, his touch warm.

For a moment, you hesitated, but the ache in your muscles urged you to accept. You gave a small nod and turned your back to him. He moved closer, his hands resting fully on your shoulders now. You could feel the strength in them through the thin fabric of your shirt. His fingers dug in gently, working into the tight muscles with a careful yet firm pressure. You let out a small sigh of relief, the tension starting to ease under his touch.

But then his hands moved more slowly, the pads of his fingers tracing over your skin in a way that felt… intimate. The soft kneading of your muscles became something more, his thumbs pressing into the knots in your back with expert precision. You couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, craving the release from the pain.

“You like that?” Sylus murmured, his voice low, teasing as his hands moved lower. Your breath hitched as his fingers worked their magic, easing the soreness out of your muscles. It was impossible to ignore the way his hands felt against your body, the way each touch made your skin tingle.

“You’re so tense,” he muttered, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in.

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. His hands on your body, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all felt overwhelming. Every touch sent a spark of electricity through you, and though the massage had started innocently enough, there was no mistaking the shift in energy between you. As his hands moved lower, brushing dangerously close to your hips, you could feel the warmth pooling in your lower belly.

Flustered, you quickly pulled away, standing up from the chair before things could escalate any further. “Th-thank you for the massage,” you stammered. You could feel your face flushing and you didn’t dare look him in the eye.

Sylus leaned back slightly, his lips pulling into that knowing smirk. “Of course,”

You took a small step back. “I think I’ll just… take a hot bath before bed,” Without waiting for his response, you turned and made your way toward the bedroom. The heat in your cheeks only grew worse as you walked away, your legs feeling like they might give out from the mixture of embarrassment and the lingering effects of his touch. You felt his eyes on you, taking in every movement, the subtle sway of your hips as you retreated to the safety of your room.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The phone call left you feeling strange—half-flattered, half-disconnected. A friend of a friend, someone from your old life, asked you out on a date. You politely declined, giving some excuse about being too busy, about focusing on your new home. But that’s not entirely true. The call was a reminder of the life you left behind, and the strange new one you found here.

You sigh, setting the phone down and reaching for the bottle of wine you opened earlier. Pouring yourself a glass, you settle into the sofa and pick up a book. You sip the wine, letting the tension of the day slip away as you open the book. But it’s not quiet for long.

The air shifts, and before you even look up, you feel that familiar presence. Sylus arrives without a sound, as he always does.

With a smile, you lookup from your book. "Care to join me for a drink?" you ask as you raise your glass to him. Although you aren’t sure if demons even can drink.

He chuckles softly, his boots making the faintest sound as he crosses the room to stand beside you. "I haven’t tasted wine in centuries," he admits.

You tilt your head. "So you don’t eat? Or drink?"

Sylus shrugs, "I haven’t needed to," he says simply, but there is something in his tone—an almost wistful note. "I suppose I could try."

You laugh softly, offering him your glass. "Here, then. Let’s see if you still can."

Sylus hesitates for a moment, but then, with a slight shake of his head, he accepts your offer. He takes a small sip, tasting the wine before swallowing.

"Well?" you ask with a smile. "Can you taste it?"

Sylus’s lips curve into an amused smirk. "I can taste it," he says and takes another sip. He makes a face, mockingly disappointed, and returns the glass to you. "I think you should buy yourself something nicer," he teases. "This is a bit cheap."

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes. "Of course you have an expensive taste."

Sylus chuckles. But then, the relaxed expression changes to a serious one. "Who was on the phone earlier?"

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers tightening around your wineglass. "Just someone from my old life." Sylus raises an eyebrow, and you feel compelled to continue. “Asked me out on a date, but I declined.”

You avoid his gaze, but you can feel Sylus watching you. "Why did you decline?" he asks, his voice low. "You’ve been here for months. You don’t get out much. Why not say yes?"

You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts. The truth is too heavy, too tangled, and you aren’t ready to admit it, not even to yourself.

"You’re one to talk," you say raising an eyebrow and mustering a playful tone. "If anyone’s used to solitude, it’s you. You’ve been alone for centuries—I think I can manage a little bit of solitude for a few months."

“Touché.” he chuckles. His gaze turns towards the flickering flames of the fireplace, “But solitude… it wears on you. You might think it’s peace, but after a while, it starts to feel more like a cage.”

The words sink into you, unsettling. But, before you can respond, a question begins to form at the back of your mind, heavy and uncomfortable. Was he truly alone all this time? Were there others before you, drawn into the same dark intensity of his presence? What if this isn’t new for him—this attraction, this electricity between you? What if you’re just another fleeting distraction in the long centuries of his existence?

You can’t stand that thought. You want to believe that you’re different, that something about you has made him change, drawn him out of the shadows in ways no one else ever has. But the growing feeling of jealousy won’t let go. Because if he’s been like this before—if there had been others—then what does that make you?

You take a deep breath, shoving these feelings aside. You feel foolish for letting your mind even go there. The two of you are just co-existing, just roommates in a weird way.

You glance at the clock on the mantel. “Oh,” you say, your voice a little too bright, “look at the time. The movie I wanted to watch is about to start.” You grab the TV remote, as if turning on the television can stop the thoughts from spiraling out of control.

Sylus doesn’t miss your deflection. He never does. “Another distraction?” he asks. He could sense your agitation, your mind wandering somewhere.

You shoot him a look, but the teasing edge in his voice makes your heart flutter. “Do you want to watch it with me?” you ask, trying to sound casual. “It’s about to start. I know how much you love TV,” you add with a playful glance his way. You know how fascinated he is with television, even though he’ll never admit it.

Sylus arches an eyebrow, and for a moment, you think he might decline. But then he stands and settles beside you on the sofa. He’s close—too close.

“I suppose I can indulge you,” he says. “Though, if this movie’s as boring as the last one you picked, I can’t promise I’ll stay.” His arm rests casually along the back of the sofa, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, even though he’s not touching you.

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you flip through the channels until you find the movie. “I’m sure it’ll hold your attention, Sylus,” you shoot back, though your mind is still racing, the earlier doubts lingering in your mind.

The movie begins, and for the first few moments, everything seems normal. It’s a late-night thriller, with captivating plot and ominous music. You let yourself sink into the sofa, grateful for the distraction, but the comfort doesn’t last long. About halfway through, the movie takes an unexpected turn. The tension between the characters on screen snaps, and suddenly, they’re in a dimly lit bedroom, their bodies pressed together. The soft, breathy moans fill the room, while the scene of naked bodies rolls on the screen.

Your breath hitches, and you fumble for the remote, your fingers shaking slightly as you try to find the button to change the channel. “I didn’t know it would… turn into this,” you mutter, clearly flustered.

Sylus snatches the remote from your hands. “Don’t change the channel.” His eyes are on the screen, amusement plastered over his face. Heat floods your cheeks, your heart racing as the sounds from the screen grow more intimate. You can feel Sylus shifting beside you, his arm still resting along the back of the sofa, his fingers just inches from your shoulder.

You try to focus, try to steer your mind away from the images on the screen. And then the uncomfortable question shows its ugly head again.

Had there been someone else?

You’re not sure what you are to him. You’re not sure if you’re just another passing moment in his long, endless existence.

You can’t think about that. You need to clear your head.

Sylus laughs as a relieved sigh leaves your lips when the steamy scene ends, and you can’t help but laugh a little with him.

You make a mental note to call the man from earlier. You’ll call him in the morning, when Sylus is resting, and try to schedule the date after all. Maybe it’ll help clear your head, help you sort through the tangled mess of emotions that has built up since you moved into this mansion, since Sylus slithered his way into your life.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The next day, you had avoided Sylus all morning, deliberately keeping yourself busy with small tasks that didn’t require much thought—dusting the bookshelves, scrubbing the kitchen counters, tending to the plants. But no matter what you did, you still felt him. Normally, you’d catch a glimpse of him here or there, a shadow slipping through the hallway or leaning against the doorway, finding any chance to tease you. But today, you avoided those moments, slipping out of rooms just before he appeared.

You tried to escape the gnawing feeling of guilt as well.

The call you’d made earlier in the morning had gone smoothly. The man had been more than happy to hear from her again. You agreed on the time and even though he was willing to pick you up, you insisted to meet at the restaurant. The conversation was light and sweet. But as soon as you hung up, a part of you regretted it. Even though you shouldn’t have.

After lunch, you retreated into the safety of your bedroom. You took your time getting ready —something you hadn’t done in a long time.The hours dragged on, and you continued to stay in your room, pacing, glancing at your reflection in the mirror - the tight dress is flattering, accentuating your curves. You set aside high heels that made your legs long and irresistible. You still had time to kill, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the room. You didn’t want to face Sylus. Not yet. The thoughts of last night still weighed heavily on you—the tension during the movie, the heat of his body next to yours, how you craved his touch.

Then, a knock at the door.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Sylus never knocks. He never enters your bedroom, to give you some semblance of privacy.

"Are you alright?" You can hear genuine concern in his voice from the other side of the door. "You've been in there for a while."

You hesitate, heart racing. Part of you wants to tell him to go away, to keep the distance you’d been trying so hard to create today. But the sound of his voice makes your chest tighten. You swallow, steeling yourself before you answer.

"Come in." Why did you tell him to come in?

The door creaks open slowly, and as Sylus steps into the room, you can see the brief flash of surprise on his face—the way his red eyes widen as he takes you in. For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on the curve of your hips, the way fabric of the dress clings to your body.

"Well," he finally says, his voice low. "I thought something was wrong… that you weren’t feeling well. Or that you were avoiding me."

There’s something about the way he says it, the flicker of concern behind his usual teasing, that touches you. You force a smile. "I wasn’t avoiding you," you lie. "I just… took my time to getting ready."

Sylus steps closer, his eyes over you again, savoring every detail. Then, his expression softens. "You look beautiful," he says, the words slipping from his lips with surprising tenderness.

The compliment stuns you. Of all the things you expected from him—teasing, possessiveness, maybe even anger—this was the last. You open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you stare back at him, unsure how to react.

He doesn’t let you recover, though. He steps even closer, his gaze holding yours, and he adds, "You always do."

His words are so sincere. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to find your voice, "Thank you," the words are barely audible, your heart still racing from the weight of his gaze.

Then his lips pull into that teasing smirk. "So, you are going on that date after all?"

You feel your stomach twist at his words. “Yes, I’m going on a date.”

Sylus steps closer, his towering form closing in on you with that familiar, quiet intensity. Your heart races as he moves forward, and instinctively, you step back. But he doesn’t stop. With each step he takes, you find yourself moving backward, the space shrinking, guiding you slowly toward the edge of your bed.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” he asks, his voice low and laced with that dangerous amusement.

You swallow, trying to stay composed. “You’re the one who suggested it,” you say, hoping that your words don’t betray the storm of emotions inside.

He smirks, clearly not fooled by your attempt to steer the conversation away. His gaze never leaves yours as he steps even closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, sending a shiver across your skin. “Is that so?” his tone is almost taunting, “If that’s what you want - to go out… to have fun with someone else… then you should.”

His words hang in the air, but the way he says it—the challenge, the possessiveness barely veiled—makes it feel like anything but permission. His fingers trace down from your cheek, slowly grazing your jawline before trailing to your throat, where they rest lightly, just enough to make your pulse race under his touch. But it’s the way his tail moves—sliding up the back of your leg, curling around your thigh—that sends a wave of heat flooding through you. It lingers there, teasing, the smooth, firm pressure making your legs tremble.

 “You can say the word,” he whispers, leaning in just enough that his breath brushes your lips, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. “If you want me to stop, to keep my distance… just say it.”

His tail continues its slow, deliberate trail over your skin. The air feels thick, suffocating, as you stand there, torn between your desire for something normal, and the undeniable pull of the dark, dangerous connection between you and him.

The silence stretches, thick with tension as Sylus waits, his lips so close to yours. His gaze locks onto yours, waiting, daring you to speak. But your throat is dry, your breath caught somewhere between fear and desire, and no words come. You can’t say it. You don’t want him to stop. And Sylus knows it.

"You’re not stopping me," he murmurs. His tail tightens its grip on your thigh, its smooth length curling higher, the teasing pressure sending a wave of arousal through your body.

Your knees buckle, your body trembling under the weight of his presence. You stumble, falling back onto the bed, but before you can even react, Sylus’ hands are there—gripping your waist, guiding you down gently so the landing is soft. The bed creaks as he follows, his hands and knees resting on either side of you, caging you in.

His eyes are dark and hungry as they roam over your body, taking in the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way your lips part in anticipation. His hand slides up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip, teasing, making you crave more.

"You belong to me," Sylus whispers. With that, he finally closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a slow kiss. In that moment, everything else falls away—the date, the outside world, the fear of what’s happening between you. All that matters is Sylus.

The kiss deepens, your body melting into the bed as Sylus’ lips press harder against yours, his tongue slipping past your parted lips, swirling with yours leaving you breathless. His teeth graze your bottom lip, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. Your hands are buried in his silver locks, trembling as his kiss grows hungrier, more urgent. But before you can pull him closer, Sylus breaks the kiss. Slowly, he reaches down, his fingers grazing the straps of your dress and bra before tugging them down your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He slides one hand up, gripping both of your wrists in a firm, yet careful hold. He lifts your hands, pinning them above your head against the soft sheets.

"Do you trust me?" he asks with softness in his voice.

The question catches you off guard. You swallow hard, your throat tight as you whisper, "Yes."

Sylus’ eyes flicker with a flash of satisfaction, and before you can process what’s happening, the space around your wrists tightens. You glance up and see the dark tendrils of magic winding around your wrists, binding them together. The energy pulses softly, not painful, but firm—like his touch. Your pulse quickens as you realize just how vulnerable you are beneath him, your body completely at his mercy. Sylus takes in the sight beneath him, and you can feel the hardness of him pressing against you.

Without another word, he leans down, his lips capturing one of your nipples, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak. His mouth is hot, teasing, as he licks and sucks at your breast, his hand squeezing the other, rolling the hardened nipple between his fingers with just enough pressure to make you whimper.

As his mouth works your breast, his tail slides up beneath your dress, the smooth length teasing the inside of your thighs. You shudder at the sensation, your body twitching in anticipation as the tip of his tail finally finds its way to your panties, grazing over the damp fabric.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as he watches you squirm beneath him. "Look at you," he murmurs, his tail pressing just a little harder against your panties, making you gasp. "So wet already…" The smirk on his lips widens as his tail continues to tease you, the sensation maddening as he presses against your swollen clit through the fabric. Without warning, he pulls the bottom of your dress up over your hips, exposing your lace panties to his hungry gaze. His eyes flicker with a brief flash of jealousy at the sight of the lacy fabric, but then a different look takes over—pride. He is the one who gets to take them off, the one who has you like this.

"Pretty," he says with a teasing edge as his fingers brush over the fabric before gripping the waistband. "But I think I prefer you without these." His tail slides aside, giving way to his hands as he hooks his fingers under the lace and slowly peels your panties down, leaving you bare and exposed to his gaze.

The moment Sylus’ fingers slide between your folds and feel how wet you are, his breath hitches. He can feel the throbbing need building inside him, but he keeps himself steady. He will not lose control. Not yet. A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he teases you, his fingers gliding lightly over your entrance, brushing against your clit just enough to send shocks of pleasure through you. You whine, your hips bucking instinctively against his touch.

"Please," you whisper, your voice breaking with desperation, your wrists still bound above your head as you tug uselessly against the restraints. The heat between your legs is unbearable, and every teasing stroke of his fingers makes it worse.

Sylus leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he coos softly. "Tell me what you need," His fingers continuing their torturous, feather-light touches. "I want to hear you say it."

Your body trembles beneath him, and for a moment, you hesitate, the embarrassment battling with the overwhelming need. But the feel of his fingers stroking you, teasing you, is too much, and your voice wavers as you whisper, "I… I need you inside me. Please."

The smirk on his lips widens. "Good girl." He leans back, straightening up, and in one fluid motion, he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. His body is incredible—broad, muscular shoulders leading down to a strong, toned chest and perfectly defined abs. You can’t tear your eyes away as Sylus’ hands moved to the waistband of his pants, the motion enhancing the muscles and veins of his arms. His gaze never leaves yours as he slowly pulls down his pants and underwear, just enough to free his cock. Your eyes widen at the sight of it—thick, long, and already leaking with precum. The sheer size of him makes your heart race with a mix of excitement and nervousness, and for a moment, doubt creeps in. ‘How am I going to take that?’ you swallow hard as you look up at him.

Sylus notices the flicker of worry in your eyes, and a smug grin tugs at the corners of his lips. "Don’t worry," his voice is laced with amusement as he wraps his hand around his length, stroking himself slowly. His eyes lock onto yours as he kneels between your legs, his fingers sliding back down between your thighs, teasing your dripping pussy again. "I know you can take it"

Sylus positions himself between your legs, his eyes fixed on you as he lines himself up with your entrance. His cock presses against your slick folds, the thick head nudging inside, eliciting a whimper from your lips. You’re trembling, but the weight of his body and the heat radiating off him keep you anchored.

“Relax, darling,” his voice is soothing as he strokes your thigh. His gaze is soft as he watches your reactions.

Slowly, carefully, he pushes forward, easing himself inside. The stretch makes you gasp. It stings, just a little, but there’s a dizzying pleasure that follows it, a heat that courses through you as he fills you inch by inch. Your breath is shallow, and you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by how full you feel, how intense it is.

“Angel,” Sylus growls softly, his voice thick with desire as he pauses, halfway in, letting your body adjust to the stretch. “Look at me.”

You bite your lip, too lost in the sensation to bring yourself to open your eyes. That’s when you feel his hand slide up to your neck with a firm grip, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Eyes on me,” he orders, his voice soft but commanding, his thumb brushing against your pulse point. “I want to watch your face as I slide inside you. I want to see how beautiful you look.”

Your eyes flutter open, and the intensity of his gaze nearly steals your breath. His red eyes burn with a mixture of lust and something deeper, something more tender. His fingers tighten slightly around your neck, just enough to keep you grounded, to keep you focused on him. He’s watching you closely as he pushes in deeper, sinking further inside you.

You’re a whimpering mess by the time Sylus finally bottoms out. The stretch makes your head spin, tears prick at the corners of your eyes, spilling over as you gasp beneath him. Sylus notices the tears almost immediately. His gaze softens and his thumb moves from your neck to gently wipe them away, the pads of his fingers tender against your flushed cheeks.

“Shh, darling,” His thumb swipes over your skin, catching a tear before it falls. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good, taking me so perfectly.”

His words send a shiver through you, and despite the ache and the fullness, there’s something comforting about his touch, the way he speaks to you. His thumb lingers on your cheek for just a second longer, before he shifts his grip to your waist, pulling you tighter against him. His hips draw back slightly, the head of his cock dragging against your inner walls, sending a shock of pleasure through you.

Sylus groans softly, his voice catching as he feels your slick walls gripping him. He holds himself still for a moment, trying to stay in control, but the truth is, he’s so close to losing it. This is the first time he’s done this since becoming a demon—since being cursed with his immortal body—and the sensation of being inside you, of your tight, wet heat surrounding him, is almost too much. He can’t tell you that, can’t admit that you are the one in control.

He starts to move, his thrusts slow at first, almost careful, but the way your pussy clenches around him makes it impossible for him to hold back. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he thrusts into you, each motion sending ripples of pleasure through your body. “Fuck,” he growls, his voice strained as his hips snap forward again, harder this time. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. “You feel so good, so fucking good…”

He’s too close, and before he can stop himself, the pleasure overtakes him. After only a few more short, sharp thrusts, he pulls out suddenly, his cock throbbing as hot spurts of cum splash across the skin of your belly.

You’re stunned for a moment. You did not expect him to finish so quickly.

Sylus’ chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes glinting with a mixture of satisfaction and frustration. He glances down, where his release glistens on your skin, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something like embarrassment in his eyes. He should’ve expected for you to have such an effect on him.

But even as he catches his breath, his cock is still hard. Without a word, he reaches down, his fingers gripping his length, and he guides himself back to your entrance. Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing, the lingering warmth of his release still fresh on your skin as he presses the head of his cock against you again. He watches your reaction closely as he slowly pushes back inside you, the wetness of his release mixing with your own arousal as he fills you once more. “I’m not done with you.”

The stretch feels even more intense the second time, your body still sensitive from his earlier thrusts, and a gasp escapes your lips as he slides inside, burying himself deep again. His hips snap against yours, his cock sliding in and out of you with a rhythm that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you closer, deeper with every thrust.

Sylus’ tail snakes around your waist, the smooth, firm length of it tightening as it pulls you flush against him, keeping you pinned beneath his body. His hand moves to your throat again, fingers pressing just enough to make you aware of his control. The pressure sends a thrill through you, intensifying every sensation as he picks up the pace. Each thrust drives him deeper, the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over, making your body tremble with pleasure.

You try to turn your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, but Sylus doesn’t let you hide. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to command your attention, as he growls softly, "Look at me, darling."

His fingers slide between your thighs, finding your swollen clit with a precision that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. You’re overwhelmed by the sensation of his thick cock filling you completely, the wet heat of your bodies moving together in sync, and the relentless pressure on your clit. It’s too much, all of it—too intense, too good, too consuming. You try to close your eyes, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze, but Sylus isn’t having it.

“I said, look at me,” His tail winds tighter around your waist, anchoring you in place. His hips snap against yours, faster, harder, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, forcing broken moans from your lips. The fingers move faster, rougher on your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your eyes flutter open, locking onto his. You’re teetering on the brink, every nerve in your body on fire. His thick cock slams into you harder, deeper, his fingers relentless on your clit, and your body surrenders completely.

Sylus watches you—his breath ragged, muscles taut, holding back just enough, waiting for you. His hand stays firm on your throat, keeping you grounded, his fingers pushing you towards your peak. He can feel it in the way your walls flutter around his cock, squeezing tighter, and it drives him wild.

"Come for me," he growls, his voice thick with command.

His words are all it takes. Pleasure slams into you, stealing your breath as your body tightens around him. Every pulse, every clench makes the orgasm crash through you in waves so intense that all you can do is cry out, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Your back arches off the bed, but Sylus is there, his hands and tail keeping you pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy. You're helpless, lost in the dizzying sensation, and he holds you tight, letting you ride out every wave.

“That’s it,” he groans, his restraint slipping as he feels you clench around him, your body milking him with every pulse. His voice is rough, almost desperate now. “Just like that, angel. Just like that.”

As you come down from your high, your breath still shaky, you feel the tension of Sylus’ magic keeping your wrists bound above your head. You tug weakly against the restraints, wanting to touch him, to feel his skin beneath your hands, your body aching for the closeness.

“Sylus,” you whisper, your voice soft and hoarse from the intensity of it all, “please… I want to touch you.”

Without hesitation, the dark tendrils of magic around your wrists fade, releasing you. Your arms fall limply to your sides, trembling with exhaustion. But it only takes a moment before you reach up, wrapping your arms around Sylus’ neck, pulling him down into a tight, desperate embrace. The second your hands grip him, your lips find his in a messy, breathless kiss. The taste of him is intoxicating, the heat of his body pressing down on yours offering you comfort.

Sylus groans against your mouth, his hips moving in slow, languid motions, drawing out every ounce of pleasure. His cock fills you completely, each gentle thrust making your body shudder beneath him. His grasp on your hip is almost bruising, his fingers digging into your skin as though holding on to you is the only thing keeping him grounded. But his other hand is soft, cradling the back of your neck with tender care, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

His lips barely pull away from yours between frantic kisses. "Where... where can I finish?" His voice is strained, and his hips falter for a moment. You can feel the way his body trembles with the effort of holding back. His thrusts begin to quicken, each thrust hitting deeper, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

"Inside," you whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as your hands tug him closer. "Do whatever you want... I'm yours."

Something in Sylus snaps at your words. His thrusts grow erratic, his body trembling as he reaches his peak, and with one final, deep thrust, he lets go. His release hits him hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he spills, groaning into your neck as the pleasure crashes over him. His grip on you tightens for a moment before his movements slow, his breath heavy and uneven.

As he rides out his high, his lips find yours again, kissing you softly. His hips slow to a gentle, rolling motion, drawing out the last waves of pleasure, but never pulling away. His hand cradles the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your skin, while his other hand loosens its hold on your hip, stroking your skin as if to apologize for the bruises he left behind.

"Mine," he whispers against your lips. His forehead rests gently against yours, and you can feel his breath mingling with yours in the stillness that follows. You realize there’s no need for words. Wrapped in his arms, with his silent affection surrounding you, you know this is where you belong.

[shay-creates]

Some songs that fit my WIPs either in lyrics or vibe.

Mark of the Forest/Dread Secrets-

Either Guns For Hire by Woodkid or What Could Have Been by Sting and Ray Chen.

New Rules/Tinnitus-

Illusion by Ateez

Runaways/Heir of Chaos-

Frost by TXT or Crown by TXT

Corruption of Heroes-

It Seemed the Better Way by Leonard Cohen or Hunt You Down by The Hit House and Ruby Friedman

Life in the Realm/Finding Family-

Family by Mother Mother

Shadow of Doubt-

You'd Be Paranoid Too - Waterparks or Saints by Echos

Background of Love-

Fake Protagonist by Getsunova or Lose (english version) by Wonho

Misfortune-

Seraph by DPR Ian or Who Are You by Sam Kim

Haven't thought much about Love Afterlife and Demon Eye, so idk what songs fit for vibes or lyrics.

[beauty-funny-trippy]

The Trump administration is manufacturing chaos to distract us from their corruption and their cuts in funding to the poor to benefit the rich oligarchy. They want to keep us overwhelmed: tariffs, stock market collapse, threats of taking Greenland by force, ICE raids, potential U.S. war with Iran, etc. "None of this had to happen." It's all manufactured chaos.

[anixvl]

BITTERSWEET || Y. J

pairing: boxer!jungwon x detective!fem!reader

synopsis: Jungwon, a rising star in the boxing world, lives by discipline and focus, known for his relentless fights and handsome looks. But his world is thrown into chaos when he becomes the prime suspect in your investigation of a dangerous crime syndicate running illegal underground fight rings. To prove his innocence, you're both forced to work together and navigate the corrupt system. But as the lines between duty and desire begin to intersect, you realize that the hardest battles are fought not in the ring, but in the heart.

genre: smut, enemies-to-lovers trope, angst, forbidden love, some fluff

warning: smut MDNI. Rough sex, dirty talk, public sex, guns, kidnap, cursing, open ending ?,

wc: 15.1k

an: hey guys heres part 2, anyways i hope u enjoy! <3

You slammed the door to your car, the sound of your boots hitting the ground with your ever confident stride filled the air. You were determined to finish this case and get justice once in for all. Justice for the murder of your former partner, colleague, your close friend.

You were in complete hysteria when you found out the death of your long-term partner, Hyunjin. Unresolved, you made it your duty and mission to find Hyunjin’s murderer, and you know it starts here. After endless research, you found it. Mr. Yang, the mastermind of a crime syndicate running illegal underground fights. It was previously Hyunjin’s case, before they killed him. After being advised multiple times by the police department to let higher-ups handle it; the very own department you and Hyunjin worked for years, you continued on with the case solo regardless. It was only a matter of time before they found out. You will find the murderer and avenge Hyunjin. It’s a must.

With every breath you let out, it vaporized into the freezing wind. The anger you felt, finally coming so close to catching the murderer, warmed your skin. You wore a big black leather jacket over your black hoodie, which was propped over your head to not bring attention to you. And finally, you walked into the run-down building.

The dim glow of the boxing gym’s fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows over the empty ring. The scent of sweat and leather lingered in the air as Jungwon pounded his fists into the heavy bag, each strike landing with a satisfying thud. The rhythmic sound filled the otherwise silent space, save for the occasional shuffle of his feet against the worn-out mats.

It was late—too late for anyone else to be here. Just how he liked it. No distractions, no expectations. Just him, his gloves, and the fight ahead.

Or so he thought.

The gym doors burst open with a sharp bang, the force of the entry sending them swinging against the walls. Jungwon froze mid-punch, his head snapping toward the disturbance. You stood in the doorway, the neon “OPEN 24 HOURS” sign flickering behind you, casting a faint blue glow against your sharp alluring features.

You are immensely stunning—though the deadly glint in your dark eyes made it clear you aren’t here for small talk. Walking with your hands stuffed into your jacket’s pockets, you carried an air of authority, but no badge in sight.

No uniform. No backup.

Jungwon wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and exhaled, “Gym’s closed.”

You ignored him. In a flash, you reached behind your jacket, pulled out a folded document, and tossed it onto the gym floor between you both. It landed with a crisp slap, the bold lettering of WARRANT FOR QUESTIONING staring up at him.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, amusingly, “You could’ve just asked nicely.”

You stepped forward, your boots echoing against the floor, “Shut it, you’re coming with me.”

Your voice was smooth but edged with something sharp—something personal. Jungwon exhaled through his nose, glancing between you and the warrant.

“What exactly am i being accused of?”

“Illegal underground fights. Money laundering. Possible ties to the Black Dragon Syndicate,” You stated, analyzing his undeniably handsome face.

God, not to mention the look of his body…

Jungwon let out a short laugh, shaking his head, “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Maybe,” you tilted your head, eyes locked onto his like you were waiting for him to slip up, “Maybe not. Either way, I have questions.”

Jungwon’s eyes trailed down your body, sensing something was off, “Where’s your badge?”

You raised your head defiantly, “I don’t need one.”

Liar.

Jungwon had been in enough situations to recognize when someone was playing outside the rules. And judging by the way your fingers twitched at your sides—like you are itching for a fight—this wasn’t just a routine questioning. This was personal. And he could read right through your pretty face.

“I see,” he mused, stepping out of the ring.

He smirked, “You’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

Your expression remained unreadable, “I’m here because your name keeps coming up in places it shouldn’t.”

“Or because you need answers you’re not getting through official channels.”

The flicker in your gaze told him he was right. Something dark coiled in his chest. He didn’t know what you were looking for, but if you are this desperate, you are dangerous. Maybe not to him—not yet—but to yourself.

Before he could think too hard on it, you moved.

Fast.

In one swift motion, you grabbed his wrist, yanking it behind his back with expert precision. Jungwon twisted out of your grip just as quickly, breaking free and stepping back.

You lunged again, and he dodged, catching your wrist before you could land a hit.

you were skilled—he could feel it in the way your muscles tensed, the way you adjusted your weight in a split second, ready to counter his next move. But so was he.

You both clashed, a flurry of movement and near-misses, neither fully committing to hurting the other but neither backing down.

Then, you changed the rhythm. Instead of another strike, you feinted—just enough for him to react—before sweeping his legs out from under him.

Jungwon hit the mat with a grunt. Before he could push himself up, you pointed a gun at him, your other hand held a pair of cuffs.

He looked up at you, lips still curled in amusement despite the fact that you’ve just floored him, “Woah, pretty, thats a dangerous toy you have there. Let’s put it down, yeah?”

You leaned down, voice low and firm, “This isn’t a game, Jungwon.”

Your mask had cracked—just a little—but enough for him to see it now. The anger simmering just beneath your calm exterior.

Jungwon’s smirk softened, “Who are you really after?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Stop acting. I know it’s you who’s been behind all of this.”

"I already said you have the wrong guy."

“Actually,” you murmured, reaching into your jacket pocket.

Jungwon barely had time to register the movement before you pulled out a sleek black USB drive, holding it between your fingers like a loaded gun.

His stomach twisted.

“Recognize this?” you asked, your voice quieter now, but no less sharp.

Jungwon kept his expression neutral, “Should I?”

You smirked, but there was no humor in it, "You should. Because I know exactly what’s on it.”

He clenched his jaw. He didn’t know what kind of information you had or how you got it—but if you were confident enough to use it against him, it couldn’t be good.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” you continued, stepping closer.

“You’re going to help me find the real culprit. The person responsible for all of this mess. And in return…” you twirled the USB between your fingers.

“This stays between us.”

Jungwon exhaled slowly, his mind racing. He could fight you on this. He could try to get away, call you bluff. But something told him you wouldn’t have come here without leverage you were willing to use and he just had too much to be guilty for to risk it.

So instead, he met your gaze, tilting his head slightly, “Blackmailing me, Detective?”

“Call it… an incentive," you shrugged.

He let the silence stretch between you both before finally giving you a small amused chuckle, “Alright, I’ll play along.”

You nodded, pocketing the USB again.

“Good,” you murmured, “Then let’s get to work.”

Jungwon sat in the passenger seat of your car, his body lazily slugged into the seat, his legs propped open. The soft hum of the engine filled the silence between you, the glow of streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his face as you sped down the empty roads.

He rolled his wrist as he played with the hem of the long bandages on his hands, "So, where are we going, Detective? Or do I not get that privilege?”

You kept your eyes on the road, your grip steady on the wheel, “We’re going to talk somewhere private.”

Jungwon smirked, tilting his head slightly, “Careful, that almost sounded like a date.”

You shot him a glare, “Are you always this shameless?”

Jungwon chuckled under his breath, his dimples showcasing his handsome face frustratingly, watching you from the corner of his eye. Now that he was sitting this close, he could see it—the exhaustion hidden beneath your sharp exterior. The tightness in your jaw, the way your shoulders never fully relaxed, as if you were constantly bracing for a fight.

Whatever you were after, it wasn’t just about justice. It was personal. He knew that. He looked out to the window.

"You never did tell me what’s on that USB.”

You remained silent for a moment, your fingers tightening slightly around the wheel. Then, you said, “Enough to ruin you.”

Jungwon whistled, “That bad, huh?”

“I don’t make threats I can’t back up.”

“Fair enough.” He studied you, curiosity growing, “But if you had enough to ‘ruin me,’ as you say, why not just use it? Why drag me into this?”

You exhaled through your nose in irritation, “Because you’re useful.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, “And here I thought you just wanted my charming company.”

You didn’t take the bait.

“My partner was murdered,” you said, your voice even, controlled.

“The higher-ups don’t want me on the case. They shut me out, told me to move on. But I know there’s more to this.”

Jungwon leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite himself, “And you think I can help because…?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

“The Black Dragon Syndicate has connections to underground fights,” you admitted.

“I have reason to believe my partner’s killer is tied to them. And you?” you finally glanced at him, your gaze cutting.

“You may not be dirty, but you’re close enough to their world. Close enough to get me where I need to be.”

Jungwon considered your words carefully.

He wasn’t stupid—getting involved in something like this could destroy his career, his life. But then again… you weren't wrong. He knew people. He knew how the underground worked, how fighters got tangled up in things bigger than they could handle.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, Detective. I’ll do what I can, but after that, we're done.”

“Okay.”

“But,” he added, smirking, “if I’m doing this, we do it my way. You’re good, but you don’t know their world like I do.”

You arched an eyebrow, “And what exactly is your way?”

Jungwon leaned back again, his smirk deepening, “We start with a fight.”

You pulled the car into an abandoned lot behind an old warehouse, the headlights cutting through the thick mist rolling in from the docks. The place looked empty, but Jungwon knew better. This wasn’t just some random stop—You brought him here for a reason.

He leaned forward, glancing around, “Let me guess. This is where you try to get me killed?”

You shut off the engine and unbuckled your seatbelt, “That depends on how cooperative you are.”

Jungwon looked down, a genuine smile plastered across his face.

And God, those dimples your heart can never get used to.

“You really know how to make a guy feel special, Detective.”

Ignoring him, you stepped out of the car. He followed, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as the cool night air settled around you.

you turned to face him, your expression unreadable, “If we’re doing this, I need you to prove you’re not just going to slow me down.”

Jungwon tilted his head, intrigued, “What, you want me to do push-ups or something?”

Your lips twitched—almost like you wanted to smirk—but you didn’t. Instead, you nodded toward the warehouse.

“There’s a fight happening inside. Illegal, no official records, all cash bets. It’s run by a middleman for the Black Dragon Syndicate.”

Jungwon frowned, “And you want me to fight?”

“No,” you closed the distance between both of you, “I want you to win.”

Jungwon's eyebrows furrow, he looks down at you, “You realize if I step into that ring, I blow my cover, right? I have a reputation to keep.”

“Then don’t lose.”

Jungwon studied you carefully, searching for any hesitation in your eyes. There was none. Your faces only mere inches apart. And although it was freezing outside, you can't help but to feel like you're burning up.

“You really are insane, aren’t you?”

You look away, trying to calm your rapid heartbeat, “You said we do this your way, Jungwon. This is your world. You know the rules. If I walk in there alone, I get nothing. But if you fight—if you win—you get me a seat at the table.”

“These people know me. They know what I can do. I don’t need to prove myself.”

“I know," You nodded, “all you have to do is get me close to the right people.”

Jungwon exhaled, irritated, leaning closer towards you, “You’re asking me to put everything on the line.”

You held his gaze, defiantly, “And I’m putting everything on the line, too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You held your gazes, faces so close it made your hands clench. The distant echoes of voices from inside the warehouse filled the silence between you, the weight of what you both were about to do settling in. The tension palpable.

Then, finally, Jungwon smirked.

“Fine,” he said, walking past you, "Try to keep up, Detective. The moment we step inside, you’re in my world now.”

Jungwon led the way toward the warehouse, his steps unhurried, confident—like he owned the place. In a way, he did. His name carried weight in the underground. He didn’t need an invitation, didn’t need to sneak in through the back. Wherever there was a fight, Jungwon was welcomed. Respected. Feared.

You walked beside him, your sharp eyes scanning everything. Light on your feet, your guard completely up. Your presence just as commanding, but in an entirely different way. You are striking—undeniably so. Even in the dim, grungy surroundings, you turned heads. It wasn’t just your beauty; it was the way you carried yourself without needing to show much skin. The lethal grace in your movements. The sharp glint in your eyes that warned people you are no easy target.

Jungwon noticed, too. But unlike the others, he wasn’t staring in admiration—he was entertained. Curious.

"Didn’t peg you for the type to blend in," he murmured, amusement lacing his tone.

You didn't even glance his way, "And I didn’t peg you for the type to care."

You were used to it—being looked at, admired, but so underrestimated. It didn’t faze you. You were too busy to care about anything other than your mission, too uninterested in wasting time falling in love. After all, you had your fair share with men and saw glimpses of how disappointing they could be.

As you reached the entrance, a heavyset bouncer stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze flickered from Jungwon to you, eyes narrowing.

“Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” he grunted, “You fighting tonight?”

Jungwon smirked, “Maybe. Just here for business.”

The bouncer’s eyes shifted to you, “And her?”

Jungwon didn’t hesitate. He threw an arm around your shoulders, a smug grin tugging at his lips, “She’s with me.”

You barely resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs. Instead, you turned your head slightly, giving him a mocking smile and a sharp glare which practically threatened, Touch me again, and I’ll break your wrist.

He returned a cocky smile.

He looked at Jungwon, smirking, “Didn’t think you were the type to settle down.”

Jungwon chuckled, “Who said anything about settling?”

His tone was playful, but you caught the knowing glint in his eyes. He was enjoying this too much. His comment irked you. You move away from him.

Finally, he stepped aside, jerking his head toward the entrance, “Try not to get blood on the floors.”

Jungwon shrugged, following behind you towards the entrance, “No promises.”

The moment you stepped inside, the air changed. The heat of bodies packed together, the metallic scent of sweat and blood, the roar of the crowd as fists met flesh—it was intoxicating.

You took it all in, your sharp gaze flicking from the ring in the center of the room to the men gathered around it, placing bets with wads of cash. The underground fights weren’t just brutal—they were a business. A business with deep ties to the Black Dragon Syndicate.

Jungwon leaned toward you, his voice low, “Welcome to the underworld, Detective.”

You ignored him, scanning the crowd, “Who do we need to talk to?”

Jungwon followed your gaze, spotting a familiar figure near the betting table.

“There. See the guy in the gray suit? That’s Kang Min-sik. He handles the syndicate’s finances—the bets, the payouts, the money laundering.”

You nodded. “Then he’s our way in.”

Jungwon chuckled, “Slow down, pretty. You can’t just walk up to him and start asking questions.”

You turned to him, crossing her arms, "Then what do you suggest?”

Jungwon glanced at the ring, where the current fight was wrapping up. The crowd was hungry for more, the energy in the room electric. His smirk widened.

“We make an entrance.”

Before you could question him, he stepped toward the announcer’s booth, his voice carrying over the noise, “I’m fighting.”

The announcer, a wiry man with a scar over his brow, lit up at the sight of him, “Jungwon! You sure? Last time you nearly put a man in a coma.”

Jungwon just grinned, “Then let’s see if anyone else wants to take the risk.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, and just like that, the stage was set.

You clenched your jaw. You had come here for information, not a spectacle. But as Jungwon stepped toward the ring, rolling his shoulders, your realized something.

Jungwon wasn’t just fighting for show.

He was sending a message.

And every man in this room—including Kang Min-sik—was about to hear it loud and clear.

You stood at the edge of the ring, arms crossed, watching Jungwon like a hawk. You told yourself you weren't impressed. That you didn’t care about his reputation or the way the entire room seemed to gravitate toward him. Or the small anxiousness of him getting hurt.

But when Jungwon stepped into the ring—the lights casting shadows over the sharp angles of his face—you felt something stir.

The crowd roared as his opponent climbed in, a towering brute covered in tattoos. A challenger who clearly thought Jungwon was just another name to add to his kill count.

Jungwon didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. He only smirked, the same infuriating confidence he always carried, but now it felt different. Like he was proving something—to you.

The bell rang.

The brute charged, swinging a punch meant to take Jungwon’s head off.

But Jungwon was faster. He dodged, fluid and effortless, his movements precise. He ducked under the next swing, landed a brutal counterpunch to the ribs. The punch echoed through the warehouse, and the brute staggered back, gasping.

Your eyes flickered. He was playing with him.

You should have looked away. Should have focused on the mission.

But you didn’t.

Because watching Jungwon fight was like watching something untamed—dangerous but mesmerizing. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation. He was completely in control.

Another punch. A ruthless uppercut. The brute collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.

The warehouse erupted in chaos, cheers shaking the walls.

Jungwon turned, searching the crowd, and when his eyes landed on you—he smirked.

You scoffed, arms tightening over your chest, “Show-off.”

He climbed out of the ring, walking toward you, sweat glistening on his skin, knuckles bruised, lip busted, and a few cuts.

“Admit it, you were impressed.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve seen better.”

Jungwon smiled, “Liar.”

Before you could snap back, a new presence approached. Kang Min-sik, the man you had come here for, was watching Jungwon with a knowing smile.

“Still undefeated, I see,” Kang mused. His gaze flickered to you, “And who’s this?”

Jungwon wiped blood from his knuckles, glancing at you. For a split second, his expression softened, “Someone who needs answers.”

You stepped forward, meeting Kang’s eyes without fear, “And I think you’re going to give them to me.”

Kang laughed, but there was something calculating in his gaze, “Well, now I’m curious. Let’s talk.”

Jungwon leaned in close to your ear, his voice barely above a whisper, “Try not to get us both killed, alright pretty?��

Your eyes met, and for the first time, a genuine laugh escaped your lips. He faltered for a moment before falling into a smile.

"Sure."

You both followed Kang Min-sik through a dimly lit hallway behind the main warehouse, the muffled roars of the crowd fading into the background. The scent of old smoke and sweat clung to the walls, but you kept your focus sharp. This was the moment you had been waiting for.

Kang led you both into a small, lavishly furnished office—a stark contrast to the grunge of the underground fights. A leather couch, expensive whiskey bottles lining the shelves, and a single desk where he took his seat, gesturing for you to do the same.

Jungwon leaned against the wall instead, arms crossed, while you remained standing, you sharp gaze locked onto Kang.

"So," Kang began, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, "what exactly is it that you need from me?"

"My partner was murdered. I have reason to believe the Black Dragon Syndicate was involved. I need names. Connections. Anything you know."

Kang chuckled, shaking his head, "Bold. You storm in here with a notorious fighter at your side and expect me to just hand over information? What makes you think I’d betray my own?"

You didn’t blink, "Because you’re not loyal to anyone but money, and I’m willing to make it worth your while."

Kang raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but before he could respond, Jungwon stepped forward.

"Careful, doll," he murmured, "Men like him don’t just take money. They take leverage."

Kang smirked, "Smart man."

You had known walking into this that Kang wouldn’t just hand you what you wanted. But you also knew you couldn’t walk away empty-handed.

Jungwon sighed, "Alright. Let’s make it simple. She’s not a cop anymore. She’s working for herself. And I vouch for her."

Kang's gaze flicked to Jungwon, "You vouch for her?"

Jungwon hesitated for a brief second before nodding, "Yeah. I do."

you turned to him, surprise flickering in your eyes.

Kang hummed, studying you both, then leaned back, "Interesting."

He tapped his fingers against the desk, "I might have something. But if you want it, there’s a price."

you expected that much, "Name it."

Kang’s lips curled, "A job. There’s a man the syndicate needs… dealt with. Not killed, just taught a lesson. Someone who thinks he can run from his debts. You two take care of it, and I’ll tell you what I know."

you immediately stiffened, "I don’t do dirty work for criminals."

Kang shrugged, "Then you don’t get your information."

You clenched your fists, your pulse spiking with frustration.

Before you could speak, Jungwon let out a slow exhale, "We’ll do it."

you snapped your head toward him in disbelief.

Jungwon met your gaze, You want answers? This is how we get them.

Kang grinned, "I like you, Jungwon. It's not easy to find a reasonable man who knows how to get something he wants."

You bit back a curse, shooting Jungwon a glare. You wanted to fight him on this—wanted to push back—but you knew he was right. You were already deep in this. There was no easy way out.

Kang slid a slip of paper across the desk, "There’s the details. Handle it cleanly, and I’ll give you your lead."

Jungwon took the paper. Turning on your heel, you stormed toward the door. Jungwon followed you, but before he stepped out, Kang called after him.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, Jungwon. Does he know you're doing this?" he tilted his head. Jungwon looks towards your direction, no sign of you.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," he continues.

Jungwon smirked to himself before walking out, "Wouldn’t be fun otherwise."

Jungwon caught up to you, his footsteps deliberate. You spun around, shoving Jungwon against the car with surprising force.

"What the hell was that?" you hissed.

Jungwon, still pinned against the metal, raised an amused brow, "That was me getting you what you wanted. I was expecting a 'Thank you,' but sure, this works fine, pretty."

You glared up at him, your body close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him, "You don’t get to make deals for me."

Jungwon rolled his eyes, "And yet, here we are."

You hated how calm he was. Hated the way he looked at you—like you were some reckless fool who didn’t know how to play the game.

"I can't stand you already," you said, voice low.

Jungwon leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear, "Likewise, detective."

For a moment, the anger between you shifted into something else—something charged, electric.

Then you stepped back, snatching the paper from his hands, "Fine. But if you screw this up, I’ll be the one teaching you a lesson."

Jungwon grinned, "Now that’s a fight I’d actually look forward to."

Later, you both headed to a motel for the night. You knew it was only a matter of time before you were chased down and hunted. You needed to stay on the low. You changed into more comfortable clothes, waiting for Jungwon to step out of the shower. You sat at the couch, enjoying a cup of ramen. After a while, he showed up. He took a seat next to you, grabbing your cup of ramen and taking a bite. You furrowed your eyebrows, annoyed.

"Hey—"

You stopped at the sight of his busted lip and other injuries. Your face softened a bit. You sighed, mindlessly grabbing his hand to examine his knuckles. He freezes, looking at you as your fingers brush over his knuckles.

"This looks pretty bad. I'll treat your wounds. Stay right here," You stand up before he could protest.

You come back with the kit, sitting in front of him. You clear your throat, reaching for his hand.

"You don't have to do this, It's nothing serious," He protests.

"Just shut up," you scold.

You're slow and careful with his wounds, the sound of your breathing and Jungwon's soft groans in pain filling the silence. Then, you work your way to his face. You apply ointment to his cuts, softly blowing onto it. You lean closer to his face, treating his busted lip. You look up to meet his gaze, wavering a moment. You both look away and you pack everything up.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

"We should get some sleep. We have a lot of things to do," you suggest.

He nods.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he says, getting comfortable on it.

"Why not on the bed?" You asked.

"There's only one," He replied.

"So?" you raised an eyebrow at his uncharacteristic shy behavior, "I don't care whether or not you're on it."

He blinks, dumbfounded.

You walk into the room, making your way on it. He walks in, slowly making his way under the covers. Once settled, you turn the lamp off on the nightstand. Only the moonlight from the windows illuminates the bedroom.

You shift in bed, finding a comfortable position. You lay on your side, your eyes closed. You hear Jungwon shifting too, before it going all silent. Only the soft sounds of breathing can be heard.

"By the way," he broke the silence softly, "you never told me your name."

You open your eyes. You immediately find his eyes, him laying towards you. Your breath hitched.

"Y/n," you confessed softly, "My name is y/n."

There's a small moment of silence, staring at each other's faces under the moonlight.

"Y/n," he whispers your name tenderly.

You swear you've never loved the way you've heard your name be said before until now. Your favorite sound. Like it was meant for him to be said. Never sounded so correct, so right.

You woke to warmth. It took you a second to remember where you were—the dimly lit motel room, the scratchy motel sheets, the faint hum of traffic outside. But what startled you the most wasn’t the unfamiliarity of the room. It was the arm draped over your waist.

Jungwon.

your breath hitched as you realized how close he was, his body pressed lightly against yours, his warmth seeping through the thin barrier of fabric between you both. His breathing was slow, steady, still deep in sleep. You stiffened. You should move. You needed to move.

But for some reason, you hesitated. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to.

Jungwon, the man who drove you insane, the notorious fighter with an irritatingly charming smile and dimples to die for, felt… different like this. Vulnerable. At peace.

He’s still a criminal, you reminded yourself. A fighter who plays by no rules but his own.

But lying there, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest, it was hard to see him as just that.

your movement must have disturbed him because, within seconds, his grip tightened slightly before his breathing shifted. He stirred, his body tensing as he slowly became aware of your positions.

And then, you heard the smirk in his voice before you even turned to look at him. Your face burned up in embarrassment.

“When you said you didn’t care about me being in bed beside you, i didn’t think it meant to this extent, detective,” he teased.

Your face burned as you shoved his arm off and sat up, scowling at him, “You were the one holding onto me!”

Jungwon stretched lazily, completely unfazed, “I was asleep. You, on the other hand, let it happen.”

Your glare could have melted steel, “I was asleep, you idiot.”

He smiled, sitting up as well, his blonde hair tousled in a way that made him look ridiculously attractive. It was infuriating.

“Relax, Y/n,” he said, voice still husky from sleep, “You were having a nightmare, shifting in your sleep uncomfortably and it didn’t stop until you were close.”

Your face softened.

“Oh…thanks,” you mumbled, before yanking the blanket off and standing up.

Jungwon laughed, low and amused, but he didn’t push it further. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Alright, alright. So, what’s the plan?”

You grabbed your jacket, forcing yourself to focus, “We find Kang Min-sik’s target, deal with him cleanly, and get our information. And after that?”

you turned to face him, your expression serious, “I’ll let you go.”

Jungwon held your gaze for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

But then he gave a small smile, “Sure, Detective. Whatever you say.”

And for some reason, you had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be that simple.

The morning air was crisp as you stepped out of the motel, the scent of rain still lingering from the night before. You walked ahead, your mind sharp despite the exhaustion weighing down on you.

Jungwon followed, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

“You’re quiet,” he noted.

You didn’t look at him, “Just thinking.”

“About how much you enjoyed waking up next to me?” he teased.

You shot him a glare, “About how I’m going to break your nose if you don’t focus.”

Jungwon chuckled, “You’re the cutest when mad.”

The target Kang Min-sik had given you was a man named Park Sung-ho, a mid-level bookie who had been skimming money off the syndicate. He wasn’t dangerous—not in the way true criminals were—but he had crossed the wrong people.

And now, you had to decide how far you were willing to go for the information you needed.

you found him in a rundown café on the outskirts of the city, hunched over a newspaper with a half-finished cup of coffee in front of him. He looked harmless—just a man trying to disappear.

you exhaled, “This feels wrong.”

Jungwon leaned against the wall, watching you, “You knew what this was when you agreed to it.”

“I agreed to handle him, not do the syndicate’s dirty work,” you turned to him, your voice firm.

“We’re not going to hurt him,” you warned.

He reached over to move a hair strand from your face. Jungwon studied you for a second, then smirked, “Guess I’ll have to be the scary one, then.”

Before you could react, Jungwon strolled forward and casually slid into the seat across from Sung-ho. The man tensed immediately, his fingers tightening around his cup.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” Sung-ho muttered.

Jungwon tilted his head, “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Trouble’s looking for you.”

Sung-ho swallowed hard, “Listen, I don’t have the money—”

Jungwon leaned forward, his voice dropping into something low and lethal, “We’re not here for your money. We’re here to give you a message.”

You watched, arms crossed, as Jungwon’s entire demeanor shifted. This wasn’t the reckless fighter you had been dealing with. This was someone else. Someone who knew exactly how to make a man sweat. And you’d be lying if this wasn’t doing something to you in strange ways.

Sung-ho paled, “Please… I have a family.”

Jungwon’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers tapped once against the table, “Then you should’ve thought about that before stealing from people who don’t forgive.”

You exhaled sharply and stepped forward, placing a hand on Jungwon’s shoulder.

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice softer than before. Jungwon glanced up at you, something flickering in his gaze.

But after a moment, he leaned back and sighed, “Lucky you. The detective here has a soft spot for people like you.”

Sung-ho looked between you and Jungwon, eyes wide.

you pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across the table, “You disappear. Tonight. Take your family and leave the country. If the syndicate finds you again, we won’t be able to stop them.”

Sung-ho hesitated, then grabbed the paper. His hands trembled, “Thank you.”

You didn’t respond. You simply turned and walked out, Jungwon following behind you.

Once you were back on the street, he whistled, sulking.

“Didn’t take you for the merciful type. I’m starting to think you’re just nice to any man who isn’t me,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, kicking the rocks on the floor.

You shot him a look, confused, “And I didn’t take you for the type to play the villain so well.”

Jungwon shrugged, “I’m full of surprises.”

“oh, yeah?” you tried to meet his avoidant gaze.

was he…mad?

You walked in silence for a moment before he glanced at you again, “You know Kang’s not going to like this, right?”

you exhaled, “I don’t care what Kang likes. He gave us a job, and it’s done.”

Jungwon stared at you for a moment before breaking into a soft smile, “God, you’re stubborn.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his dimples, “You’re just figuring that out?”

His smile widened, but there was something different in his expression this time. Something closer to admiration.

As you made your way back to Kang Min-sik, you couldn’t ignore the shift between you both. The line between enemies and allies was already beginning to blur. And that was dangerous.

By the time you both returned to Kang Min-sik’s hideout, the air between you and Jungwon had changed. It wasn’t just the usual tension anymore—it was something heavier, something unspoken.

Kang was lounging in his leather chair when you walked in, a glass of whiskey in hand. He didn’t even bother looking up right away, his attention focused on the flickering television in the corner. When he finally did acknowledge you, it was with a slow, lazy smirk.

“You’re back early,” he mused, swirling the drink in his glass. “That means one of two things—either the job went smooth, or you decided to get creative.”

You crossed your arms, “The job is done.”

Kang arched a brow, glancing at Jungwon, “Is that so?”

Jungwon shrugged, all casual arrogance, “The guy got the message loud and clear. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

Kang studied you both for a long moment, tapping his fingers against the desk.

“Funny,” he murmured, “Because I heard a different story.”

Your spine stiffened. You should have known Kang would have eyes everywhere.

“I hear,” Kang continued, “that instead of teaching him a lesson, you let him go. Gave him a nice little escape route.”

He titled his head, “is that true?”

You held his gaze without flinching, “You wanted him dealt with. He’s gone. That’s all that matters.”

Kang’s smirk faded. “No, sweetheart. That’s not all that matters.”

Before you could react, one of Kang’s men moved. A blur of motion—faster than you expected. A blade flashed, aiming straight for your throat.

But Jungwon was faster.

In an instant, he grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting it sharply. The knife clattered to the floor, and before the attacker could react, Jungwon drove his fist into his ribs. The man doubled over with a pained grunt.

The room went still. The sound of liquid trickling onto the floor filled the room. You looked over to Jungwon, his palm was dripping in blood from the huge slit he got from the knife.

Your heart pounded, but your expression remained stone-cold.

Kang let out a slow exhale, standing up. “Impressive,” he murmured, “You’ve still got it, Jungwon.”

Jungwon glanced at his hand like he wasn’t affected, “You knew what you were getting when you asked for my help.”

Kang chuckled, but his amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. I did.” He glanced at you, “And you, detective—I should’ve known you’d pull something like this.”

You lifted your chin, “Are you giving us our information or not?”

Kang studied you for a long moment before finally sighing, “You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.”

He turned, grabbing a folder from his desk and tossing it toward you.

You caught it.

“There’s your lead,” Kang said. “But I’d watch my back if I were you. You made a lot of people unhappy today.”

You didn’t respond. You simply opened the folder, scanning the contents. Names, addresses, connections—pieces of the puzzle you had been chasing.

You looked up at Jungwon, who had gone unusually quiet. His jaw was tight, his fists still clenched.

what’s up with him?

“We’re done here,” you said, turning to leave.

But before you could step out, Kang’s voice stopped you.

“One last thing.”

You turned back.

Kang smirked, “You two make an interesting pair. Almost as if you trust in each other. That’s too bad.”

You furrowed your eyebrows but neither of you responded.

Kang’s smirk widened, “Careful with that. Trust is dangerous in this world. Especially when you think you have the other person all figured out.”

The night air was cold when you stepped out of the building, but you barely felt it. You clutched the folder tightly, your mind racing with the information inside. Jungwon was speeding ahead of you, you walked faster to catch up.

“Jungwon, wait! what’s up with you?” you called out to him.

Jungwon exhaled sharply beside you, “That could’ve gone worse.”

You examined him, “But it didn’t.”

He let out a low chuckle, anger plastered on his face, “You’ve got a bad habit of pissing off dangerous people.”

Trying to deescalate the situation, you smirked playfully, “You’re one of them.”

Jungwon turned to you, something unreadable in his expression. “Yeah,” he murmured, “I guess I am.”

He kept walking, your face fell to a frown. You held your breath. You grabbed his hand.

“What’s wrong with you!”

“Nothing!” he shouted.

Your eyes glanced down at the blood smudging on your hands as you hold his.

You shook your head, “this won’t do. Let’s go back to the motel to treat your wound.”

Before you could move, he yanked his hand from your grip.

“I don’t need your help,” he murmured, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Anyway, you have your leads and clues now, so this is over,” he locks eyes with you.

“This isn’t over. We haven’t even found the real culprit yet!”

“You can handle yourself perfectly fine!” He retorted.

“Stop…dragging me into this mess more than you have. Because of this, word is probably out about me being involved in this. Everything is on the line. My career. My reputation. Everything,” he continues, stepping closer to you.

The thought of being so close to finding out the long-awaited truth just for him to back out is killing you. You’re so close yet so far. And as much as you know you can handle yourself, you wouldn’t have gone this far without Jungwon. And you hated the thought of relying on him more than you thought you would.

“Jungwon,” you reached out for him, “I still need you. Please, we’re so close.”

Jungwon’s eyes flickered in something unreadable. He stepped impossibly closer to you. You could feel his heat radiating off him.

“Don’t…say stuff like that,” he fumed, “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand you a second longer.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. With all the anger and confusion that went through your veins, you let impulsivity take ahold of you.

“God I hate you so much, Jungwon,” you hissed, before leaning in to kiss him.

A million bolts of adrenaline fired up within you, sighing against the kiss.

Jungwon took his hands out of his pocket, cupping your face with his bloody hands to deepen the kiss. His response was urgent, desperate, and yet so tender. You both forgot how to breathe, too focused on your lips on each other to worry about taking a single break from tasting each other.

And then, finally, you broke away to catch your breath. Small pants came from one another, processing what just happened. Jungwon leaned in almost immediately after breathing to give you small and slow pecks onto your lips, refusing to be away from you. You smiled against the kisses, trying to move away but he locked you against him with his arm around your waist.

“Jungwon, stop it. Let’s go treat your wounds, okay?”

“Okay, but i’ll drive,” he stated, grabbing the keys from your pockets.

The moment the door shut closed behind Jungwon, he quickly captured your lips. Caught off guard, you stumbled back against the wall, a soft thud in result. You softly groaned against his lips, grasping onto his shirt. Jungwons hands travel down to your waist, his fingers sliding under your shirt to touch your bare skin. Your heart fluttered at the sudden contact. The kiss was now sloppy, hot, and desperate. He lifted you against him without breaking the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck. He blindly carried you to the bedroom, softly laying you on top of the bed. You sat up slightly, going further into the bed.

You felt like prey, the look in his eyes eliciting a lewd response from you. He took off his jacket before his shirt, he crawled slowly onto the bed. Eyeing you down dangerously. He hovered over you, kissing you slowly. He tugged at your shirt before helping you take it off. You tossed it aside along with the other clothes. He left hot wet kisses along your neck, trailing down to your chest. His big hands wandered across your body, resting to cup your breasts slowly. He sucks and bites the skin of your neck and collarbone before leaving more love bites onto your breasts. You let out small airy moans, gripping onto his hair. He unclasped your bra, tossing it aside.

He kisses you once more, “You’re so beautiful, it’s driving me insane.”

Your hands slowly glide against his bare chest, feeling him as he sucks onto the sensitive buds of your breasts. A warm pulse between your legs becoming gradually unbearable.

He pulls away, playing with the hem of your pants. You nod, allowing him to slide it off. You shyly tighten your legs together, embarrassed of how damp your panties are from the arousal. As if he couldn’t get any harder, the sight of you under him, wet just for him, made his cock ache. He forcefully pulled your legs apart before settling in between them. He leaned over to kiss you, hungrily. His bulge rubbing against you, creating torturous friction. You moaned, your hips subconsciously bucking up to feel more of him. He groaned against the kiss, his cock begging to be released from his tight pants.

“Jungwon, please,” you tugged onto his pants.

“Please what, y/n?” He teased, slowly grinding his hips into you.

“Stop fucking teasing,”you replied, becoming frustrated by the second.

He smiled before quickly standing up to unbuckle his belt and slid what was left of him off. Your eyes swallow the sight of him whole. He slowly pulls off your wet panties down your legs. He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your stomach. Finally, he envelops your clit into his mouth. The sensation rushed right through your body, causing a yelp in pleasure to escape from you. You reach out to him, gripping onto him as he savors you. Lewd wet sounds fill the room.

“oh, fuck—oh, Jungwon…” you moaned, biting your lip in hopes to keep quiet.

He pulls away, aligning his twitching cock between your wet folds. He rubs it in a bit, slow and deliberate.

you groan, “I can’t wait any longer…”

“What was that, detective? Couldn’t hear you…” he taunted.

“oh, you asshol—!” you argued, but quickly cut yourself off with a moan at the feeling of Jungwon pushing himself into you.

You felt like you were being filled up. So full.

He was slow, gentle, yet unforgiving.

Once all the way in, he leaned over to give you a sloppy kiss.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

You shake your head, softly whining at the stuffed feeling.

He smirked, pulling his hips back before pushing back in. He moved slowly at first, waiting till you adjusted to him. His face flinched in pleasure, your tight grip onto his cock driving him crazy. He cursed under his breath, picking up his pace. He threw one leg over his shoulder, wrapping his arm around it to secure. His hips snapped against yours, hitting spots deep within you. You moaned loudly, gripping onto the sheets beneath you in ecstasy.

“fuck…you’re taking me so good, pretty,” he whispered, admiring your fucked-out face.

“so pretty, just like this,” he continued, pressing a hand on your lower stomach, feeling where his cock thrusted within you.

“oh my—mhm,” you choked out, your mouth falling agape at the overwhelming sensation.

He let go of your leg, towering over you in missionary. He used his arm for support, kissing you tenderly. He left soft kisses onto your neck and jawline as he continued to thrust into you. The sound of leather jackets hitting the ground and lewd sounds filling the room.

“Not so bossy now, are you, detective?” he laughed, his voice coarse and airy.

“I still hate yo—!” you attempted to argue, but instantly failed at the feeling of Jungwon going deeper—faster.

“Shut up and take my cock,” he groaned, fisting your hair before slightly pulling your head back.

Your eyes rolled back, digging your nails onto his back. You clenched around him, approaching your high.

“So fucking pretty, my cockdrunk slut,” he grunted, his eyes locking with yours.

You stared back into his, feeling a knot begin to form in your stomach. It was all to intimate—too much to handle, yet neither of you could look away. Too scared as if to lose this special moment, this undeniable connection.

You cupped his cheek, glancing at his lips. Jungwon leaned in, kissing you lovingly.

“M’gonna cum,” you whined against his lips, wrapping your legs tighter around him.

“Me too,” he exhaled.

He quickened his pace, cursing under his breath. Finally, you let out one last yelp in pleasure, shaking violently against him as you reached your high. His cock twitched shortly after, filling you up entirely. He moaned your name like small prayers, thrusting a few more times to ride out the high. Then, he drops beside you. Sweating and panting, you both close your eyes and catch your breath. Lying on his stomach, he opens his eyes to face you. He meets your softly asleep expression and the way your chest rose and fell. He smiles to himself, finding it cute how fast you fell asleep. He reached to push out a strand of your hair from your face delicately, mesmerizing by your beauty. Wholeheartedly, just you. He loved the sound of your soft breathing, the smell of your hair, the warmth of your touch, and how perfectly you fit right in his arms. Like you were meant to be there for him. Just for him.

He scoot closer, wrapping you in his arms gently. You stirred softly in your sleep before snuggling up into his warm chest. He smiled, looking at you shift for a comfortable position. He analyzed your face until his eyes became heavy. He kissed your forehead before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

The next day, you hadn’t realized how long you fell asleep for. Your eyes flickered open at the stinging sensation of the sun. You looked around gently, finding yourself entangled in Jungwons arms. Your eyes widen as memories of the previous night flashed before your eyes. You freeze as he softly stirs in his sleep, groaning. Once it’s safe, you carefully and slowly manage to release yourself from his grip. You tip-toed across the room, picking up your pants from the floor. You hurriedly put them on, as you rushed down the hallway.

“Crazy,” you whispered to yourself scoldingly, “you must’ve gone crazy, Y/n!”

You threw on his jacket and put your shoes on before grabbing the keys from the table. You made yourself outside the motel, turning on the car. You sit there, recalling every single touch given to each other. You could still feel his lips on your body, his big and warm hands gripping onto your ass, and how broad his back felt as you scratched onto it. You groaned, resting your head onto the steering wheel in frustration.

How were you supposed to face him now? What is there to say after that?

You know you should ignore it, disregard it as a moment of weakness and desire, but you know it’s far much more than that. At least for you.

Jungwon reached out for you absentmindedly, only to be meet with a cold, empty, spot. He quickly sat up, looking around the room. Your clothes weren’t on the floor, the door was opened, and no sound of you. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/n?” he called out, putting on his pants.

No response.

He walked into the hallway, opening the bathroom door to check.

no one there.

He went into the living room, then the kitchen. He finally pieced it together. But then, the front door opened. He whipped his head around to catch your figure.

You held a plastic bag from the store and a nervous expression.

You tossed the keys onto the table.

“Y-you’re up…” you broke the suffocating silence.

You focused your attention onto the materials in the bag, trying to ignore his piercing gaze—and his unusual silence.

You took out the bandages and alcohol solution to treat his wounds.

“These are for you…we didn’t get to treat it yesterday so I—” You froze at Jungwon’s lips onto yours.

He cupped your face, pressing his body up against you. You lose your balance, your back hitting the wall. You softly moan against his lips, attempting to push him away but he deepens the kiss. You stop fighting it, gripping onto him tightly as you close your eyes and melt into him.

You break the kiss to catch your breath, your gazes meet. He glances down at your swollen lips. He leans in again, as if trying to devour you whole. You stop him, signaling to the table.

“Let’s get your wound treated first,” you swallowed, “please.”

“fine,” he mumbled, plopping himself onto the chair.

You let out a shaky exhale, sitting down in front of him. You open the contents, treating his wound delicately. His face would flinch here and there, but no sound. Jungwon observed you intently, as if watching an art piece. He couldn’t help it, and it frustrated him so much. He glanced down at his jacket you’re wearing. A small smiled crept onto his face, a prideful feeling in his chest arising at the sight of it.

You looked at his direction, realizing you’re wearing his jacket.

“Oh, i’m sorry…I grabbed the nearest jacket and i didn’t notice it was yours…”

“I don’t mind. It suits you better,” he smirked.

You blinked, dumbfounded.

After you finished treating his wound, you got up.

“We should get some days to rest…I’ve found the place and time that will lead us to Mr. Yang.”

He stiffened a bit before nodding.

You told yourself it would be the first and last time, that the first time was just a mistake, that you found him annoying, and that you couldn’t stand him.

Yet, you found yourself for the next few days in his arms over and over again, his lips worshiping your body, and his cock deep within you.

You both argue, fight, but end up making love to each other at the end of the day. It was a predictable, frustrating, routine. One which you both felt frustrated by but couldn’t change even if you wanted to. Because you both knew; you liked this more than you expressed.

And tonight, was just another one of those moments.

“ngh…fuck, Jungwon,” you moaned, riding his cock on the living room couch.

He looked up at you with his half-lidded gaze, immersed into the pleasure you gave him. His strong arms rested onto your ass, gripping and pulling it towards his cock every now and then.

“fuck, pretty, just like that,” he groaned, throwing his head back.

You bounced on his cock, your breasts mimicking your movement. Your moans became more persistent as you felt your orgasm approach. The room was filled with heavy breathing and the sound of skin. You were so adjusted to him, that he could easily slide in and out from you. It drove him crazy.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him sloppily. He returned the kiss almost immediately, locking you tightly against him with one arms around your waist and the other up your back. And then, he thrusted upward, forcing you to take every single each of him.

You yelped in pleasure, gripping onto his shoulder for support.

“You can take it, baby,” he cooed, watching your mouth fall agape.

You nodded insistently, biting back curses. Tears swelled the corner of your eyes, the pleasure becoming more and more intense.

“Jungwon I’m…” You cried out, digging your nails into his skin.

“I know, baby,” he moaned, “you’re taking me so fucking good…”

A ring of your cream built around his shaft, his cock glistening from how wet you are.

He slapped your ass harshly, leaving a permanent mark onto it. You whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders. You clenched around him, his twitching cock begging for release.

And then, with a final thrust, you both come undone. He groans your name before coating your velvet walls with warmth. You shook vigorously, falling onto him in exhaustion. Panting, he welcomes you in his arms, embracing you.

You stirred softly in your sleep, slowly opening your eyes at the light of your phone turning on. You looked around, careful to not wake up Jungwon—who was sleeping peacefully in your arms. You felt a warm feeling in your heart at the sight of him. You reached for your phone from the nightstand. Your eyes gazed over the message from an unknown number.

‘Find the phone booth.’

The neon glow of the city flickered in the rain-soaked streets as you paced outside the dingy motel. You made your way inside the phone booth, just outside your motel room. You pressed the ringing phone to your ear. Static crackled on the other end before a voice—gruff and familiar—cut through.

“You’re in over your head, Detective."

Your grip on the phone tightened, “Then why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?"

A long pause.

“Mr. Yang. He’s a ghost. You won’t find him unless he wants to be found.”

"Good thing I make a habit of pissing off men like him,” you stated.

"And that’s exactly why you’re about to get yourself killed."

You exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over your face, “I don’t have time for riddles. My partner is dead, and I’m going to find out who put the bullet in his head—"

"Then stop looking where you shouldn’t."

Your face twitched, "What the hell does that mean?"

“See that key on top of the phone box? Take it to the mailbox. Go alone. And…” he warned, “Don’t show Jungwon.”

“What? why?”

The line went dead.

You lowered the phone, unease twisting in your gut. Something wasn’t adding up. Someone was playing you, nudging you closer to the edge of a trap you couldn’t see.

And the worst part?

You had a sinking feeling that Jungwon knew more than he was telling you.

You turned, heading to motel’s unit mailboxes. You opened the corresponding box with the key. Your hands trembled as you pulled the white envelope out, labeled with red pen ‘Y/N.’

You opened it to reveal various photos.

But, they weren’t just photos. They were surveillance footage snapshots of Jungwon.

The days and time leading to the murder and of the murder. At the same place of the crime scene.

Your blood runs cold and you feel yourself sick. You swallow hard, ignoring the familiar sting in your eyes and ache in your heart. But most of all, the boiling coursing through your veins.

No, this couldn’t be. Jungwon wouldn’t…?

Why was he there? Has he been lying to you this whole time? stringing you along?

The weight of the realization crushed you. You looked over at the glistening fire pit inside a metal can. You threw the pictures in. You made your way back inside. As you walked down the hallway, you felt sicker and sicker.

What does those photos mean? why should I trust him? Should I confront him? What should I even do?

You froze outside the bedroom door. Your hand hovered over the doorknob, hesitant. Then, you slowly opened it.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped together, his expression unreadable. The room smelled like rain and worn-out tension, like two people teetering between trust and betrayal.

"Who was that?" he asked.

You hesitated, looking over at the window with shifted blinds. He must’ve heard the phone ring…and saw me out there.

You flashed a soft smile, “An old friend. Says I should stop looking.”

Jungwon’s jaw tightened but then relaxes, returning a teasing smile, "Maybe you should listen."

Your eyebrows furrowed, "You sound just like him."

He gets up to walk over to you, placing a tender kiss onto your lips, "And maybe that should tell you something."

And although you knew those words were teasing and light, you couldn’t help but to feel as if there was a deeper meaning to it.

The words hung between you, heavy and unspoken.

For the first time, you wondered if Jungwon was trying to protect you—Or if he was keeping you from the truth.

So you waited, watching.

You both went to the boxing gym he practiced at. This was the ways he wasted his time, so you accompanied him. He rented out a private room, claiming he needed to focus. So there you were, sitting on the mini couch in the corner, watching as he boxed away all his thoughts and feelings onto the bag. You tried to focus on your phone, but your eyes kept finding their way back to his figure. He was panting, a determined look on his face, and his forehead sweaty. It turned you on, weirdly enough. Your mind drifting off to many dirty fantasies. Jungwon looked over to you, catching your gaze.

“What is it, pretty?” He asked, walking over to you.

You shifted in your seat, embarrassed. He tossed his boxing gloves onto the couch.

“Nothing,” you lied.

He narrowed his eyes on you suspiciously, lifting his eyebrows in a flirty manner. You could tell he was frustrated from his boxing performance, you saw the irritation on his face when he missed something.

“Don’t lie,” he warned, gripping your face to look at him.

You batted your eyelashes at him, innocently. Albeit to the many fantasies flashing through your mind at the moment just at the sight of him.

He tilted his head slightly, examining you. His thumb made its way into your mouth, coating it with your salvia. You suck on it softly, to tease. His face flinches, a bulge growing in his pants. He lets out a low chuckle. He leans down to kiss you, slowly. You lean back onto the couch, allowing him to tower over you, his leg between your thighs and his arms resting on either side of you. You sigh against his lips, melting into him. He kisses you deliberately slow, passionately, as if to drive you mad. And it was working.

His hot, wet kisses trailed down your jawline up till your neck. You softly moaned, incapable of thinking rationally. You looked at the door through your half-lidded eyes, the fear of being caught arousing you. He lifts off your shirt, you let him. He tosses it onto the floor, cupping your breasts that sat so pretty in your laced bra.

“My God,” he mumbled, “I can never get enough of you.”

He recaptures your lips once again, his hand trailing down your bare waist to grip your ass. You whimper against his lips, your panties feeling soaked. Breathless, he pulls away.

“Get on all fours. Now,” he demanded.

You nod, pushing yourself further onto the couch. You take off your pants, tossing them alongside his pants and other clothes on the floor. You get on all fours, your cunt aching to be filled by him.

He goes behind you, giving you a harsh slap on your ass before pulling down your wet panties. Your hips moved closer to him, pressing against his throbbing cock. He griped onto your hips tightly.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” he teased, rubbing his dick between your wet folds.

He cursed under his breath, pushing into you with a harsh thrust. You cried out, gripping onto the couch for balance. He started to rock his hips against you, his pace deliberate and hard. You could tell something was on his mind, and he was using you to release all the pent-up emotions he had. But you didn’t mind.

The sound of skin filled the room, but it wasn’t louder than the people outside the room. Your moans were broken, the air taken out from you as Jungwon pushed his cock further into you. He was filling you up so good.

His pace quickened, he reached for your hair, pulling it back to deepen his cock within you.

“Take it like a good girl, I know you can do it, detective,” he cooed, watching as you struggled to form words.

Your moans became louder, the pleasure becoming intense the more he hit the deep spots. Tears formed the corner of your eyes, you were drowning in pleasure. You didn’t want this to stop.

Jungwon softly shushed you, “Do you want everyone out there to know you’re getting slut out by me?”

You shook your head, whimpering in attempt to bite back your sounds. He lets go of your hair harshly, the mess of your hair and makeup arousing him.

“fuck,” he groaned, “look at you. Such a gorgeous mess.”

His hips snapped against your hand-marked ass, tears falling down your face. You’re a moaning mess, uncontrollable panting and incoherent words. Jungwon grabbed a boxing glove, placing it in front of your mouth.

“Open,” he demanded before stuffing your mouth with it. You bit down on it, hard.

His pace was merciless, pounding into you till your legs trembled. Your loud cries were muffled against the glove, your eyes rolling back into your head as he repeatedly hit your spot. Tears dripped down your chin.

He fucked his anger out on you, focusing on where your dick entered and slid out your cunt. His breath rigid and unstable. He cursed under his breath, throwing his head back. He leaned forward to harshly press you against the couch, arching your back for him.

This new position brought you to the stars. Jungwon let out a loud groan, slowing down only momentarily to thrust harder into you.

“i’ma fucking cum,” he grunted, pressing you harder into the couch the closer he got.

You only whimpered in response, feeling your legs violently shake as you became closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he breathes, releasing his warm load inside of you.

Your eyes roll back, letting out one last moan before coming undone. Your legs immediately give out, falling onto the couch. You both laid there, entangled in each other’s arms till you were ready to go home.

The underground fight club reeked of sweat, blood, and desperation. The crowd roared around the cage as two men beat each other senseless under the flickering overhead lights. You stood at the edge of the chaos, hidden in the shadows, your gaze locked onto one man.

Jungwon.

You followed him here, the middle of the night, after kissing you on the forehead while you were “sleeping.”

He moved like a predator—fluid, precise, devastating. With a swift hook, he sent his opponent crashing to the ground. The bell rang, signaling his victory, but he barely acknowledged the cheers. Instead, his gaze flickered to the edge of the ring—where a man in a black suit surrounded by countless bodyguards sat, watching. A face I couldn’t manage to see beyond the countless of people.

Your hands curled into fists. Who was he meeting in secret like this? Surely it isn’t to fight, he didn’t seem to enjoy it a bit in the ring. Why is he doing this?

And then, it clicks.

You had spent weeks tracking down leads on your partner’s murder, and every single road led back to this place. To the crime syndicate Mr. Yang ran. To the fights Jungwon couldn’t seem to walk away from.

And now, you knew why.

“He’s…meeting Mr. Yang,” you whispered to yourself. Realization crashing down onto you mercilessly.

As Jungwon exited the cage, wiping blood from his knuckles, Mr. Yang gestured for him to come closer. You pressed yourself against the wall, listening intently.

"You’ve done well," He mused, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand, “But you and I both know fights like these won’t get you what you really want."

Jungwon didn’t reply. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Mr. Yang smirked, “I hear your detective has been getting too close. Poking around where she doesn’t belong. Looking for me?”

Your heart pounded.

"Leave her out of this," Jungwon said, voice cold.

Mr. Yang let out a low chuckle, “Oh, Jungwon. You don’t really believe you can protect her, do you?"

He leaned forward, his expression turning lethal, "Your little girlfriend is a problem. And problems need to be handled. You know this.”

A muscle in Jungwon’s jaw twitched, “What do you want, Seokjin?"

Seokjin smirk widened, "Y/n."

He took a slow sip of his drink before setting it down. "I’ll make it simple for you. You deliver Y/n to me. Alive. I’ll make sure she disappears, without a trace. No pain. No struggle. Just gone."

Your breath caught in your throat. You catch a glimpse of his face.

"You want me to turn her over to you?" Jungwon asked, the weight of it suffocating. "What happens if I refuse?"

Seokjin’s eyes turned colder, "You’ll make her an enemy, and you’ll be forced to kill her yourself. Your choice."

Jungwon clenched his jaw, the words burning like acid, “I’m not killing her."

Seokjin’s smile widened, “Then you’ll do what I say. It’s simple, little brother. You give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you need. Y/n will be safe. I’ll make sure of it."

Jungwon’s hands trembled, but he kept his face neutral. He wasn’t afraid of Seokjin. He was afraid of what he would become if he gave in. But there was no choice. Your life was in the balance.

"I’ll do it," Jungwon said quietly, “But this is the last thing I ever do for you."

Seokjin’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, “I’ll hold you to that."

As Jungwon turned away, the weight of the decision hit him like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t just betraying you. He was betraying everything he had ever believed in.

His undeniable love for you, in which he held dearly.

And for what? To save your life. At least, that’s what he told himself.

But deep down, he knew that the moment he betrayed your trust, he would lose you forever.

He couldn’t look Seokjin in the eye any longer—not after the ultimatum, not after hearing those words, but just as he turned toward the exit, the harsh whisper of a breath cut through the air.

“I heard everything.”

Your voice sent a shockwave through him. His blood ran cold.

Your figure emerged from the shadows at the far end of the club, standing near the entrance with your gun still holstered at your side, but your expression was a mix of disbelief and crushing disappointment. Your eyes bore into his, like daggers, each one colder than the last.

Jungwon froze, his throat tightening. He had no idea how long you had been there, how much of the conversation you’ve overheard. But one thing was certain—everything had changed in that moment.

The distance between you both had just been measured in miles, and it felt like an ocean had opened up.

“Y/n…” His voice cracked despite himself. He couldn’t bring himself to take a step toward you. How could he? How could he explain this?

You didn’t move, your stance unyielding, "How long, Jungwon?”

Your voice was low, controlled, but there was a tremor in it, one that echoed deep inside him. Memories of all the moments you’ve spent together flashing before your angry eyes.

"How long were you planning to keep this from me?" you fought back the tears threatening to form in your eyes.

His eyes flickered between Seokjin, who stood silently, watching the scene unfold with a smug satisfaction, and you.

"I didn’t want you to know,” He hated the weakness in his voice, “I didn’t want you to be part of this."

"Part of this?" You laughed bitterly, though it didn’t sound like humor. It sounded like a wound being ripped open.

"You don’t get to decide that. I’ve been part of this from the very start. Every decision you’ve made, every lie you’ve told—I've been there. Has everything been in a lie?”

“No, I—”

“You think you were protecting me, huh? By keeping me in the dark? You think you’re a hero here?!” you shouted, your hands trembling in rage.

Your eyes were hard, unforgiving.

Jungwon clenched his jaw, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he say?

That he had betrayed you to save you? That in his twisted logic, letting you hate him would keep you alive?

He didn’t know if he could even convince himself of that anymore.

“You knew,” you whispered, “You knew what would happen to me the moment you decided to carry out this lie. You knew how much it meant to me! You knew you were signing my death sentence, but you still did it. You still betrayed me.”

His breath caught in his throat. You were right, and he knew it. Every excuse he had built up, every lie he had told himself to justify his actions shattered in that moment, leaving nothing but the truth. He had given you up to protect you... but in doing so, he had destroyed everything you’ve both built. Every kiss, every touch, every lingering gaze, every passionate night, the subtle phases. Everything.

"Y/n, listen—”

"No," you cut him off, your voice breaking.

The gun at your side glinted in the low light as you took a step forward, but this time, it wasn’t aimed at him. It was held loosely, the weight of it feeling heavier than anything you’ve ever felt.

“You don’t get to apologize now. You don’t get to fix this. You made your choice,” you hissed.

Seokjin finally spoke, his voice a chilling interruption, "She’s right, Jungwon. You’ve chosen your side. The moment you decided to play hero, you sealed your fate—and hers."

Your gaze shifted toward Seokjin, icy fury radiating from you, "You. I’m not afraid of you."

Seokjin raised his hands up, a mocking smirk on his face.

"You’re just a coward hiding behind your power, your money. You don’t control me,” you fumed.

Seokjin smiled, but there was no warmth in it—only a cold satisfaction, "I control everything. Including your fate, Detective."

You didn’t flinch. You took another step toward him, your eyes never leaving Seokjin’s, “Then come at me."

Jungwon’s heart sank as he watched you stand your ground, the fire in your eyes only growing stronger. You had no idea what you were dealing with. Seokjin wasn’t just a criminal—he was the mastermind, the puppet master who pulled every string in their world. And right now, he held all the cards.

But as you locked eyes with him, something shifted inside Jungwon. The familiar, heavy weight of guilt and regret flooded over him, and suddenly, it wasn’t about Seokjin anymore. It wasn’t about the choice he had made or the lies he’d told.

It was about you. He was so ardently in love with you.

The words exchanged between you both hit him harder than any punch could. You had never looked at him like that—never with such raw hurt and betrayal.

You turned to look back at Seokjin, but he was no longer in sight. Just a bunch of bodyguards.

"Where is he?" you asked, your voice steady despite the unease curling in your gut.

Jungwon didn’t answer right away. He just stared at you, his jaw tight, hands curled into fists.

"Jungwon," you warned.

"You need to leave," he said finally.

Your brows furrowed, “What?"

“Right now. Walk away and don’t look back."

A cold chill ran through you, “Why the hell would I do that?"

A low voice echoed from behind you, "Because you were never supposed to make it this far, Detective."

You whirled around, your gun drawn, but before you could react, strong hands gripped your arms, yanking you backward.

Jungwon didn’t move from his place, tightly having his hand fisted to prevent him from interfering. He looked away, couldn’t bare the sight of betraying you evermore.

Rage ignited inside you, hot and consuming, “You set me up."

You struggled against the men restraining you, fury twisting in your chest, “you bastard!”

Jungwon finally looked at you then, something unreadable in his gaze, "I’m sorry."

But you didn’t believe him. You couldn’t.

Because the man standing before you wasn’t the Jungwon you thought you knew. He was just another enemy. Another bittersweet memory.

The sharp sting of metal bit into your wrists as you struggled against the cuffs, your pulse hammering in your ears. The cold cement floor beneath you sent a chill up your spine, but it was nothing compared to the ice in your veins as you replayed the moment Jungwon betrayed you.

The moment he handed you over to his older brother, Seokjin Yang. The one you’ve been looking since the start.

Days had passed, and each one even worse than the other. Jungwon had returned home, where he was originally from, in Seokjins mansion. Where you were held captive, underground. It was a harsh awakening, to see that all this time you’ve known a version of him that wasn’t true.

But he didn’t try to correct you, nor open up about it either. And he technically didn’t lie, he wasn’t who you was looking for. But he knew…all this time. He stringed you along. He played with your feelings.

But it wasn’t the last time you’ve seen him. He would come down, everyday, with food trays and clothes. He looked different than when you first met him. He was properly clothed, his basic outfit probably costing a fortune. It was a bitter reminder that you hadn’t known him at all. He was just a rich, corrupt, boy after all.

And the family of your partner’s murderer.

He looked at the other untouched food trays from the previous days. He sighed, kneeling in front of you. You looked away, couldn’t bear the sight of him.

“You need to eat,” he urged angrily, “are you trying to kill yourself?”

You glared at him, your face pale and beads of sweat grouping on your forehead. Small cuts on your face and bruises on your body.

‘you did this to me,’ you thought.

You stayed silent. His expression softened, guilt plastered across his face. He placed the tray on the ground in front of you.

“Y/n, I know you’re angry, you have every right to be,” he pleaded, “but please. I beg you, eat something. At least drink some water.”

He grabbed a bottle of water and opened it, he pressed it to your lips. You hesitated at first, but then took a long sip. You brought your swollen wrists up to your mouth, wiping away dripping water.

His lip twitched into a hopeful smile. He grabbed a spoonful of hot soup, bringing it up to your lips. He blew on it before letting you swallow it.

But then, you spit it back to his face.

“I don’t want it,” you said coldly, “don’t show your face in front of me again. I don’t want to see you.”

He wiped off the food from his face with his shirt, revealing his bare chest. Your eyes flickered, memories of the intimacy you both once shared flashing for a split second.

The bodyguard at the door checked in and saw the scene. He came closer, ready to attack. Jungwon extended his hand, signaling to stop.

“Im fine. I provoked her,” he defended. He stood up, looking at me once more before turning to leave.

“I’ll be back,” he stated, “please eat.”

He didn’t come back for the rest of the day. You were slowly becoming impatient. You needed to leave.

How long were you going to stay like this? Helpless? You needed to leave.

Seokjins men paced outside the locked room, their voices low and guarded. They thought you were helpless. Powerless.

They had no idea who they were dealing with.

You forced yourself to stay still, controlling your breathing. Then, with one swift motion, you dislocated your thumb, ignoring the sharp pain as you wrenched your hand free from the cuffs. Blood trickled down your wrist, but you didn’t care. You had one goal.

Survive.

And then, make the Yang family pay.

You moved quickly, silently. One of Kang’s guards turned just in time to see you launch at him. Your elbow slammed into his throat, cutting off his air before he could sound the alarm. His gun clattered to the floor, and you caught it in one smooth motion, spinning just as another guard rushed toward you.

Two shots. Two bodies down.

The door burst open. You raised your weapon—

But it was him.

Jungwon stood in the doorway, breathing hard, his gun still lowered at his side. His dark eyes flickered between the unconscious men on the ground and you, standing there with a gun aimed at his chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

And for a moment, you had a flashback to the night you first met. You guys started like this, and now it seems like you’ll end like this.

Then your finger tightened on the trigger, “Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you right now."

Jungwon didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

He exhaled slowly, stepping forward, “Because if you do, you’ll never know the whole truth."

Your hands trembled, anger and betrayal warring inside you, "You don’t get to talk about the truth. Not after what you did."

His jaw clenched, “I had no choice."

"There is always a choice, Jungwon."

Something flickered in his eyes—regret, guilt, something deeper. But you weren’t ready to listen. Not yet.

"Move," you ordered, keeping the gun trained on him.

“No,” he said, standing in front of the gun. But as you brushed past him, his voice was quiet—almost broken.

"If I had told you everything back then, would you have believed me?"

You didn’t answer. Because you weren’t sure.

You heard the commotion upstairs, probably back-up. Jungwon grabbed your wrist.

“where are you going?,” his face softened, “i’m coming with you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, about to protest, but you had no time to spare. You both managed to rush out through a secret back way. It was cold, you were weak and exhausted, but you made it out. Your eyes frantically looked around for a car. You pointed the gun at Jungwon, signaling to the luxury lined cars.

“Turn one on. Hurry,” you threatened.

He nodded, grabbing keys from his pocket, he rushed to a car. You both got inside the car, he turned it on, you kept the gun pointed at him.

You left out a shaky exhale, clearly in pain. You flinched, glancing at your wound on your side and cut on your shoulder.

Jungwon glanced over to you, worriedly.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

You tightened your grip onto the gun, “Eyes on the road.”

You guided him to a place. The only place you could think of now. The only place you wish to be.

Home.

You push him inside, gun still pointed to him.

His expression was unreadable, he looked around, observing the place. You carefully reach for his pocket, your hands coursing through his body, taking his gun out. He didn’t reach for his weapon. He didn’t try to run. He just stood there, staring at you like he was bracing for impact.

"You betrayed me."

The words barely made it past your lips. You hated how raw they sounded, how much hurt was laced in them.

Jungwon exhaled slowly, “I know."

“you lied to me!”

“I did.”

Your finger hovered over the trigger. You had pictured this moment a thousand times since the night he handed you over to Seokjin. Since the night he let you believe he had chosen the enemy over you. The night he gave what you both had up. If anything.

"Then why?" Your voice shook, but your stance remained firm. "Why did you sell me out? Why did you let me think—"

"Because it was the only way to keep you alive!" His voice cracked through the silence, loud, desperate.

He took a step forward, and you immediately cocked the gun, making him halt. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

"Seokjin was going to kill you, and nothing—not your badge, not your skills, not even me—was going to be able to stop him. So, I made a deal."

"A deal?" You scoffed, rage clawing its way up your throat, "You handed me over like I was some bargaining chip!"

Jungwon shook his head, “I bought you time. I knew you'd escape."

His voice was strained, laced with something that sounded dangerously close to regret, "I had to make sure Seokjin didn’t see you as a threat long enough for you to get out of there alive."

Your pulse roared in your ears, “You think that justifies what you did?"

"No," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, "But I’d do it again if it meant keeping you breathing."

For a moment, all you could hear was the rain outside, the faint hum of the city beyond these walls. The weight of his words settled over you like a storm, suffocating and relentless.

"I don’t need you to protect me," you whispered.

“I know that. But i can’t…I can’t help it,” he confessed.

He took another step forward, and this time, you didn’t stop him.

"Then why?" you asked again, but this time, the question wasn’t just about the betrayal.

It was about everything. The tension, the lingering touches, the stolen glances. The way his eyes lingered too long when he kissed you. The way he caressed your hair as you slept in his arms.

Jungwon swallowed hard, "Because I love you."

The confession hit you like a blow to the chest.

Your hands trembled around the gun, but you refused to lower it. You didn’t know what was worse—the betrayal or the fact that some part of you had wanted to hear him say it.

“How do i know that’s not just another one of your lies? How am I supposed to trust you?”

Jungwon took one last step closer, close enough that the gun was pressed against his chest. The only barrier between you two. His voice was raw when he spoke.

"You can hate me. You can pull that trigger. But don’t ever doubt that I would’ve given up everything if it meant keeping you safe."

The gun in your hands felt impossibly heavy.

And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you had the strength to pull the trigger.

Then, finally, you sighed, “You really are an idiot."

Jungwon blinked, "Excuse me?"

"You love me, but you thought lying to me and betraying me was the way to protect me? Idiot."

“There is something I must give you,” he said, reaching for his pocket.

You observed carefully as he pulled out a flashdrive. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You need to see this,” he handed it over to you.

You grabbed your old laptop, the screen flickered on. You plugged in the chip. Jungwon sat at a safe distance beside you. The audio file played through the tiny speakers.

"Y/n… if you’re hearing this, then I didn’t make it."

Your heart clenched. It was him, Hyunjin.

"I don’t have much time. They know I’m close. But listen—Seokjin isn’t our enemy. He was helping me. He’s an old friend from high school…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But, I have proof that the real threat isn’t him—it’s someone inside our own department. Someone powerful. Someone who’s been playing both sides."

Your throat tightened as your partner’s voice cracked, “Seokjin tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. And now I’m running out of time. If something happens to me, don’t trust anyone. Find the evidence. Finish what I started. And Y/n… whatever happens, don’t let them turn you into their pawn like they did me.”

The recording cut off.

You barely registered the moment the room started spinning. The flash drive felt like a dead weight in your palm.

You were too in shock. Hyunjin and Seokjin, friends? Hyunjin running from someone in your department?

This whole time…you had it wrong.

For months, you had poured every ounce of your rage into bringing Seokjin down. You had been convinced that he was the one who ordered the hit on your partner, that he was the reason for the blood on your hands. And now—

Now you know the truth.

Jungwon, who had been sitting beside you, finally spoke. His voice was careful, measured.

“Your partner had been investigating a dangerous underground crime syndicate—one even more powerful than Seokjin’s operations. He and Seokjin had a secret alliance, working together to take them down from the inside. Seokjin, despite his reputation as a crime boss, had been trying to dismantle the organization in his own way, using his influence to protect those who couldn’t go to the police. But then, Hyunjin got too close. He uncovered something that put him directly in the syndicate’s crosshairs—maybe evidence that tied corrupt officials and high-ranking officers to the criminals. He needed to get it out.”

“So he turned to Seokjin,” you continued.

He nodded, “But before Seokjin could move, the syndicate acted first. They made it look like Seokjin had ordered the hit on Hyunjin, knowing that it would shift all suspicion onto him. By the time we arrived to help as back-up, he was already dead. Which is why I was there the day of the murder. The real mastermind, A high-ranking official or someone within the police force who had been feeding information to the syndicate. They needed Hyunjin gone, and framing Seokjin was the perfect cover. That’s the real truth, Y/n.”

Your eyes flickered, tears stinging your eyes. This was your breaking point. You had been so blinded by rage, you hadn’t realized the answer was there all along.

Jungwon hesitantly reached for your shoulder, caressing it.

You turned to him, embracing him. He immediately welcomed you in his arms, caressing your back in comfort.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “As long as i’m here, no one can hurt you…”

you pulled away, gently.

“I love you, Jungwon,” you confessed, “as much as I hate to admit it.”

He paused for a moment before flashing you a genuine smile, his dimples showcased.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say that,” he whispered, towering over you.

He kissed you lovingly, soft, and slow. As if you were fragile, as if he was scared of hurting you.

As if he was going to lose you if he let go.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. You fell back onto the couch, allowing him to hover over you.

“If I could go back and do it differently, I would. I’d choose you. Every time,” he whispered.

Your heart slightly ached.

"I don’t deserve you," he continued, “But if there’s even the smallest chance that you could forgive me… that we could try again… I swear, I won’t waste it."

"You’re going to have to prove it," you said softly.

Jungwon’s lips parted, as if he hadn’t expected you to give him even that much. But then, after a moment, he nodded, a small, almost broken smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He recaptured your lips again, this time more yearnfully.

"I will," he promised, “Every day, for as long as you’ll let me."

tbc…!

[echantedtoon]

Yandere Shadow Milk Cookie x Pregnant Reader

Yandere Shadow Milk Cookie x Pregnant Reader both pre and post corruption. Idk how timelines work lol. Warnings for your usual yandere themes, pregnancy, obsessive behavior, etc.

-You were one of the few cookies working for Blueberry Yogurt Cookie the Fount of Knowledge and his ever growing spread of knowledge. After all with so much information to convert into books and with the new school being constructed, he was going to need some help. So there he was just walking by the scholars, tons of them working on writing his own notes and large pamphlets and converting them into physical books, running back and forth with ink or paper, or delivering hardback book covers for the newly printed pages.

-Until one of them bumps into him nearly toppling over the large pile of papers in her arms all about the Earthbread's native plants. "Careful there! You ..nearly.." Everything else does on his tongue once he sees your beautiful face smile up at him. "My apologies, Fount. Excuse me, I have to deliver this to the second floor." He stared awestruck as you go eyes wide and jaw dropped.

-He's immediately smitten by you and Tries to learn everything about you. How long you were here, your family, what your hobbies were- He's the Fount of Knowledge. Learning information about anything abd everything was easy for him. So he was absolutely prepared for when he eventually gathered up the courage to ask you out and to his delight, you said yes.

-Being the wife of the Fount of Knowledge lead you to live quite the comfortable life, even though you insisted on still working despite Blueberry Yogurt Cookie insisting you didn't have to and could just let him take care of you. Don't you want him to take care of you? But he says nothing against it, though suspiciously you find yourself working closely to his office and he seems to (conveniently) pop up wherever you are after a while although at the time you didn't think anything of it

-However as time goes by things start to subtly shift within the world. Burning Spice Cookie is the first one to be corrupted spreading chaos and destruction to a third of the continent. Many fled in refuge from his lands seeking shelter in the protection of the other Pillars. It brings shock to your husband who seemed very shocked but not overly worried. "Keeping calm in any situation is vital. We mustn't let fear consume us."

-That's the first time you feel something shift. You suddenly find yourself checked on lots more by him and being assigned to your husband's side much more frequently. Too frequent to be a coincidence anymore. When you bring it up to him he looks extremely guilty. "Im sorry. I'm just worried about you is all. Are you angry with me?" This is the first time he's dipping into gaslighting but he himself doesn't realize it yet, only thinking he's being cautious.

-More and more cruelty struck the land. Mystic Flour Cookie was the second that fell followed by Silent Salt Cookie which meant more cookies flowed to the Fount and Eternal Sugar's territories for refuge and protection. You could see the strain suddenly forced upon your husband. The sleepless nights answering the countless questions cookies kept throwing at him. DEMANDING to know what was happening and why! Demanding he do something to stop the former pillars' rampage.

-You were there next to him as he dug through book after book continuously seeking answers to why this was happening. Constantly sending messangers to Eternal Sugar to converse and make sure she wasn't going down that path. Trying so hard to provide for the hundreds of understandably angry and frightened cookies he wasn't prepared for. Spent so many nights alone as he was suddenly so busy. Never spending time with you anymore unless you were helping him. Even then you both barely got time for one another.

-It left you staring at the ring on your finger every night wondering if your marriage was worth it anymore. You didn't blame Blueberry Yogurt Cookie for the responsibilities or his stress, but it's been almost two years now with each Pillar slowly corrupting one by one and he still barely spends time with you. It only gets worse more complicated as time drags on. One day you get sick. And then the next. And the next. Getting sick during the early mornings and your stomach starting to hate certain foods. This finally makes him pause his stress to help you.

-"My lady, you're pregnant." The expert healer Blueberry Yogurt Cookie hired had took one minute looking at you before announcing the devastating shocking news. The feeling is shock before immediately your husband is hugging you full of joy he hadn't felt in ages. "Praise Dough!! The Witches have blessed us with a child!! I love you so much, Pudding Cup!" You however aren't so sure about this. "Is this really a good idea? With everything going on maybe having a baby isn't the best idea right now." "It's a miracle, a blessing, a beacon of hope in these trying times! Don't fret, Love. Everything will be fine."

-Everything is not fine. Nothing changes. Despite his promises he's still away. You wake up to him gone bed cold left to handle the nauseating feelings and dizzy spells and aches that you never wanted. Your own sleep schedule was a wreck and you were barely able to get work done. His solution to your pleas was to reassign all your work and order you constant bed rest. Now the one thing distracting you from your misery was gone. Leaving you aimlessly wallowing and wondering looking like you were miserable and you were without the help.

-"You said you were going to take the day off." You stared at him throat sore from excuse the pun toss cookie after your body decided you could eat your favorite oatmeal anymore. "Im sorry, Cupcake. I really am. But Im having a problem with resources getting scarce and I need to make sure my cookies don't starve." "Are you free? I think I need-" "Whatever it is, have Black Sapphire Cookie assist you. I need to reevaluate these blue prints." ".....You promised to help pick out things for the nursery with me." "I already did." He smiles at you briefly from his stacks of papers looking frazzled. "It's all set up with a crib and toys- You'll love the stars I had painted on the ceiling! They're realistic!" You had already left.

-You started avoiding him from that moment on. It wasn't hard. He was always so busy with work and you were already trying to push through this. Until you couldn't take it anymore. The final straw was when he finally bothered to show up. Eternal Sugar had finally succumbed to the corruption and he wanted to inform you. That meant the cookies coming to him would increase. The stress would only be worse than it was. "What are you going to do about it?" His stare was..oddly calm and devoid of something but he inhaled. "I don't know, but I want to try and sort out the worst parts of it before little Blueberry Milkshake arrives." You paused looking at him. "Who?" "Our little star of course." "...You...already decided a name?" "It works for a boy or girl! Do you like it?"

-You already decided that you were done with this entire thing right then and there. He may be a good person but clearly this marriage was a huge mistake. You weren't happy being stuck in a marriage that only he was happy in. So...you made preparations to leave. It wasn't hard putting together an official annulment document together being a scholar under the Fount of Knowledge. You had barely any joint assets save for the baby you already planned on giving up. There's no way either of you were ready for a kid. It was easy for you to slip it in with other documents he signed on a daily basis. It was already in order with your signature. All it needed was for him to sign it himself. He signed document after document all the time. He wouldn't notice.

-Unfortunately you underestimated that part of him. He did read what he was signing. The Fount of Knowledge wasn't foolish enough to make that mistake. Blue hands froze as eyes stared down at the paper. Word after word echoing in his mind and breaking him apart from the inside out when. His jam quaking like an earthquake swallowed him whole as one signature he recognized caught his eye. And all was silent within the estate.

-In fact no one had seen Blueberry Yogurt Cookie in a week not that you minded. You were busy readying to leave secretly packing a hidden bag under your bed and secretly planning out your escape route. You only stayed to sort out a few last things before leaving, spending a few final days with friends and family just hanging out. Constantly you were being pestered by cookies asking or demanding to know where Blueberry Yogurt Cookie was. Each time you only looked at them tired of dealing with this anymore. "Do I look like I know where he is?! If I knew I'd tell him to stop leaving his wife sleeping alone at night!!" Although you were sure you weren't married anymore since he would've signed it by now.

-However that night was oddly ..silent. Not the peaceful silence but a weird creepy silence that was like in those horror novels you read just before the monster caught it's victims. It made your hair stand on end and instinctively your hands clutched the swell of your stomach. Odd. Usually cookies would be coming to badger you or searching for Blueberry Yogurt Cookie. So where was everyone?? You picked up your pace passing by the nursery on your way b- "It's beautiful tonight."

-You pause freezing at the familiar voice before ever so slowly turning your head. A familiar figure stood there in the middle of the nursery with his back to you, a plush sugar gnome in his hands. "Blueberry Yogurt Cookie?" You turned to him feeling uneasy. "Where have you been? No one's seen your in nearly three weeks. Black Sapphire Cookie and I've been bombarded with cookies looking for you." He didn't turn to you making you shift in place. Now that your eyes adjusted to the dark, you could make out the-

-What...was he wearing? His usual robes and hat were gone, replace with some kind of suit with puffy sleeves and a large white collar. He still remained silent playing with the gnome plush. ".....Blueberry?" "You wouldn't leave me right?" The question pinned you to the spot, and in an instant you knew...You both knew. The silence stretched on further until you exhaled, dread piling in your stomach. "I-...I don't feel like you want me anymore." His body flinched. Tensing up and his hands licking around the toy. "I think..this marriage just wasn't going to work out. Too many things are happening and we don't have any time for each other anymore. I know I should've told you in person-"

-You stop when he laughs. A deep chuckle that sends ice in your veins and shivers down your spine. He finally turns around and your mouth drops in a silent scream. Eyes. So many eyes blinked at you from the darkness. "Oh, darling. Is that what's the matter?" His head twists at an angle that should be impossible as he's suddenly standing before you, dark and menacing aura heavy. Like a dog moving over you. "Aw. You should've said so sooner, Dumpling.~ I would've gladly made time for my wittle wife. Well no..I already did really. Hehehe! Didn't take me too long."

-"Too long? What have you done?!" "Sshhh." Arms slunk around your arm pulling you against a body as cold as ice as your eyes widened. "You don't have to worry about anything anymore. You or our little poppet.~ After all the world's a stage and the most entertaining scenes are yet to be written.~"