#(but anyways this is the kind of thing that intrigues him. excites him even) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seongwars · 2 months ago

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forget me not | iv

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (my bad) Warnings: infidelity, use of the k word

Fic Masterlist

a/n: my stitches reopened and I had to go back and get restitched 😬 so I spent all day in bed editing this chapter. i love reading everyone's theories and feedback is always welcome!

The first time Haewon saw Yunho, it was at your dorm during a study session. You were both surrounded by books, notes, and various pieces of stationary scattered across the floor. While you were focusing on writing out your note cards, Haewon was dancing around the room in an attempt to “activate her brain cells”.

She had been caught up in her own world until the sound of a knock interrupted her antics. You stood up to answer the door, and a low voice followed, mingled with a chuckle—deep, familiar, and warm.

Yunho.

He was your best friend, someone she’d heard about but hadn’t paid much attention to. But that day, something was different. He sat with a pile of books and a look of quiet concentration that intrigued her. His presence was magnetic, though subtle, and without realizing it, Haewon found herself sneaking glances at him, captivated by the calm determination in his demeanor.

She wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, between stolen glances and shared laughter over late-night group study sessions, she started to fall for him. Yunho was kind, always the first to offer a helping hand, and his dedication to his friends and family was unwavering. He had a way of making everyone feel valued and heard.

And when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she was over the moon.

"Did you know Yunho was going to ask me out?" she beamed, her voice laced with an excitement that made your heart sink.

You froze for a second, your pencil hovering above the page. There was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe even hurt—but you quickly swallowed it down.

"Maybe," you muttered, your voice light, almost teasing, though it took everything in you to keep it that way. Haewon didn’t see the way your grip tightened on the pencil, or how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I can’t believe it," she gushed, oblivious to the turmoil behind your composed expression. "I mean, I’ve liked him for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, but when he asked me…God, it was perfect."

"That’s great, Haewon" you said, your voice quieter than before, trying desperately to sound convincing.

You fell in love with the way Yunho truly saw you, even when you tried to hide parts of yourself. He understood you in ways no one else ever had, knowing your fears, your dreams, and all the things that made you tick. Somewhere along the line, you stopped worrying about what he would think of you because with Yunho, you never had to pretend.

That’s when you knew you loved him—because the idea of life without him didn’t feel like life at all.

But how could you tell him? You weren’t like Haewon—bold and unafraid, able to voice her feelings as if vulnerability wasn’t terrifying. She was all confidence and ease, speaking her mind without a second thought, while you were cautious, overthinking, content to blend into the background.

Telling Yunho how you felt would mean stepping into the unknown. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him if things went wrong. So you stayed silent, burying your feelings deep, hoping that somehow, you could protect what you had by keeping your secret.

But things went wrong anyway.

You tried not to not let their relationship affect you, told yourself you were happy for them. Haewon and Yunho were two of the most important people in your life, and they deserved happiness. You repeated that to yourself like a mantra, hoping that if you said it enough, you might actually believe it.

It hurt seeing them together, knowing that while you were happy for them, you couldn’t help the ache in your chest every time Yunho laughed a little too easily at something she said, or when she rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry. How could you? Haewon hadn’t done anything wrong; she hadn’t stolen Yunho from you, and Yunho hadn’t abandoned you. It was like watching sand slip through your fingers—nothing to hold on to, nothing you could do to stop it.

Yunho was happy, and you cared about him enough to want that for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

After you disappeared, everything fell apart in ways neither of them expected. Yunho and Haewon participated in search parties, posted on social media about your disappearance, and cooperated with law enforcement. But there were no answers, no trace of where you’d gone or why. The emptiness you left behind was palpable, a gaping hole in both their lives.

At first, Haewon believed they were grieving together. She felt the weight of your absence in every corner of her life, and Yunho, in his quiet way, did too. But then, she began to notice the way their relationship shifted.

It was subtle at first: a slight distance in Yunho’s eyes, the way he seemed preoccupied even when they were alone. He would zone out in the middle of conversations, and even when he held Haewon in his arms, his heart wasn’t fully there.

Slowly, painfully, she realized the truth. Yunho wasn’t just mourning you—he was waiting for you. He was still tethered to you, pulled by an invisible force that Haewon couldn’t compete with.

She never considered herself a mean girl. Sure, she had grown up in a comfortable world, surrounded by friends who were a little more tightly wounded and concerned with appearances. But now, standing on the other side of it, Haewon could see the truth for what it was. Yunho was never really hers to begin with. She hadn’t stolen him—not intentionally—but she had taken something that was never really hers to claim.

Then there was Sungjae.

Sungjae had never been a close friend, not really. He was more of a background figure—someone on the outskirts of Haewon’s social circle who, little by little, had weaseled his way in. He was everything Yunho wasn’t: impulsive, flirtatious, unpredictable. And it was those very qualities that ignited something in her.

The affair began quietly, like a secret Haewon wasn’t ready to admit even to herself. It started innocently enough—casual conversations, coffee outings after shared classes. They’d stay up late in the library, long after everyone else had left, talking about things that felt too personal, too vulnerable to share with anyone else. Haewon convinced herself it was nothing more than a close friendship—after all, she had a large circle of friends. What harm could one more friend do?

As time passed, the line between friendship and something more blurred. In the quiet moments following your disappearance, Haewon found herself relying on Sungjae in ways she hadn’t with Yunho in years. He became her anchor when the world felt uncertain, someone who made her feel alive and seen.

At first, it was easy to justify: she and Yunho had been drifting apart. Haewon had noticed it in the way their conversations had become shorter, less meaningful; the way they sat together in silence more often than not, the air between them filled with unspoken tension.

But there was also something darker about Sungjae—something tied to the past Haewon desperately tried to forget. The night you disappeared, Sungjae had humiliated you, his cruel words cutting through the air as everyone watched in uncomfortable silence. And Haewon had stood by, doing nothing. She had stayed silent, too afraid to confront him, too indifferent to speak up.

Yunho had done nothing, either. His usual kind, gentle demeanor had turned into passive inaction, making excuses whenever Haewon brought up the topic like "It's just a phase" or "They’ll work it out."

“Do you think Sungjae had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” Haewon suddenly blurted out as the two were cooking dinner.

Yunho froze, his jaw tightening. He knew the answer—he had always known. The last time anyone had seen you was when you stormed out of the apartment, cheeks flushed with shame and frustration. And yet, Yunho couldn’t admit it out loud. Admitting that Sungjae was responsible meant confronting his own failure, his own role in pushing you away.

“If he did,” Yunho said, his voice low, a dangerous edge creeping in, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“But you were the last one who saw her.”

His entire body tensed, the weight of Haewon’s accusation hitting him harder than he expected. He turned to face her fully, eyes dark and cold.

“You think I had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” His voice was low, hurt and anger threading through each word. He could feel the bile rising in his chest, burning with the injustice of her suspicion.

“That’s not what I said—”

“But it’s what you meant.” Yunho cut her off. “You think I’m the reason she’s gone?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” she murmured, her voice softer now, though the accusation still lingered between them.

“All I did was walk her out, and the CCTV proved that! You have no idea how much Y/N’s disappearance is affecting me! But to even suggest that I could’ve done something…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by a surge of emotion.

“I can’t do this,” Yunho muttered, his voice barely audible now as he turned away from her. Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he headed for the door, his movements tense and deliberate. “I’m done with this conversation.”

His footsteps faltered just before reaching the door, the frustration inside him boiling over. He spun back to face Haewon, his voice sharp and biting.

“Every time it comes to Sungjae, you choose him. Why?”

“I–” Haewon’s voice cracked, but Yunho didn’t stop. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

Haewon knew it wasn’t fair to keep dragging him along when her heart was no longer fully his. But the thought of actually leaving—the finality of it—terrified her. The knowledge that once she walked away, there would be no going back was something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

And then Yunho proposed.

It caught her completely off guard—a moment she hadn’t prepared for despite all her doubts and uncertainty. She hadn’t expected him to propose, not now. But instead of facing the truth, instead of admitting that her heart had drifted away and she was entangled in an affair with someone else, Haewon did the only thing she could think of: she convinced herself that accepting Yunho’s proposal would fix everything.

Haewon felt trapped. She felt the walls closing in, suffocating her as she tried to play the part of the happy fiancée. On the night of the engagement party, everyone around them was celebrating, toasting to their future, but all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. Her heart wasn’t in it—not fully—and she knew it.

The alcohol didn’t help. Glass after glass, Haewon drank to drown out the noise in her head, to silence the guilt and doubt. She wanted to forget, to numb herself to everything, but instead, it only made her feel more exposed.

She avoided Yunho most of the night, choosing instead to party with her friends, laughing too loudly, her smile brittle around the edges. Yunho tried to get her to slow down, to pull her back to him, to hold her close, but every time he did, it felt like the air was being sucked out of her lungs. It wasn’t his fault, but being near him only made the weight of her choices heavier.

Finally, something inside her snapped. Right there, in front of everyone. The frustration, the guilt, the suffocating pressure of pretending—it all came to the surface. She knew it was unfair, that Yunho didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

Now, as she laid in bed next to Sungjae, the weight of her betrayal closed in on her. The wedding was fast approaching, a date circled on the calendar like a death sentence, and there was no backing out now. The dress had been chosen, the invitations sent. Everyone was expecting a celebration, but all Haewon could feel was dread.

Yunho had betrayed you too, hadn’t he? He had stood on the sidelines, just as complicit, watching as Sungjae’s cruelty unraveled you. And yet, he had stayed—stayed with her, proposed to her, tried to build a future with her. It was laughable.

The two of them, pretending like they could escape what they’d done, like they could forge something real out of ashes. But the truth had always been there, lurking beneath the surface.

They were no better than the man lying next to her now.

Perhaps this was what she and Yunho both deserved—two people who had betrayed you, condemned to a life of misery together.

Life in the Emporium was nothing short of magical surprises.

Each day began with a quiet ritual, a moment of calm before the shop's unique energy fully awoke. The first thing you’d do each morning was reach for the incense—carefully selected for its cleansing properties—and light it. As the fragrant smoke curled into the air, it seemed to reset the entire space, gently sweeping away the lingering energies left behind by the previous day’s visitors.

Above, the flowers in the hanging garden stirred with the first touch of morning light, their vibrant petals responding as if in greeting. You watered them with a flick of the wrist, though it felt more like a gesture of care than necessity—they thrived on the shop's magic more than on water.

The shop had its own rhythm, a delicate balance between the mundane and the mystical. Travelers, clients, and even the occasional spirit wandered in, drawn by the promise of wishes granted—some simple, others far more complicated. You had seen all kinds: the weary traveler who just wanted safe passage home, the desperate lover seeking a second chance, or the ambitious merchant hoping to change their fortune.

But nothing in the emporium was granted without a cost, and the price wasn’t paid in gold or silver. Every transaction required something far more precious—a wish. Not the kind made on a whim, but a deeply held desire, pulled from the very core of one’s soul.

You would watch as they approached the counter, hands trembling ever so slightly as they revealed their request. Their eyes flickered with doubt as the weight of the exchange settled upon them. Standing before you, they were caught between what they needed and what they were about to give up, realizing that their wish, once surrendered, would be gone forever.

You always asked if they were certain. If they understood the nature of their sacrifice. But the emporium never rejected a payment once it was offered.

You had become accustomed to the shop’s quirks, trusting its ancient magic to maintain a balance that you could only partly comprehend. It was more than a shop; it was a living entity, guiding not only the customers but you, its keeper, shaping the course of both your lives in subtle, unseen ways.

Everything functioned smoothly, like clockwork—until the day Yunho arrived.

From the moment Yunho stepped into the emporium, his presence unsettled you. There was a calm assurance in the way he carried himself, grounding everything around you. Despite never having met him before, something inside you insisted Yunho wasn’t a stranger.

You recalled the strange memories that had flooded your senses—the wind whipping around you as you sat in a car with Yunho, the sun illuminating the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It felt so real, as if you’d lived that moment before, but then it dissolved into something deeper, something raw.

The emotions had gripped you before you could react, dragging you under like a riptide. Your knees buckled, and the world tilted, leaving you gasping for air. Yunho was there, of course. Even through the thick haze of your feelings, he kept you steady, his arms the only thing keeping you from crumbling completely.

Even now, the echoes of that moment lingered in your body. You could still feel the weight of the emotions that had passed through you, as if the magic had left an imprint on your soul.

“Fate has already tied their threads together.”

Your mind raced, trying to grasp Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s conversation.

What did that mean? What threads? Could the connection you felt—this strange, undeniable pull—be part of some cosmic plan, one that had existed long before you even stepped foot in the emporium?

But how could you accept something so profound when you couldn’t even remember him? The thought haunted you, and yet, deep down, the pull toward Yunho only grew stronger, as if Fate itself refused to let you walk away.

You sighed, taking a long drag from your pipe, leaning back as you watched a few late summer blooms drift down from the skylight’s hanging garden. Their petals fluttered like tiny omens in the gentle breeze. Fall had arrived, and with the change in seasons, the line between the living and the departed would thin, bringing even more travelers and clients from different realms.

The bell above the door jingled faintly, drawing your attention. You glanced over, catching the sleek, shadowy form slipping through the crack in the door—a flash of fur before it darted out into the evening. You immediately knew who it was.

“Wooyoung,” you called out. The cat froze mid-step, his tail twitching with surprise. Slowly, he turned his head, his onyx eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light.

“Don’t even try it,” you added, placing your hands on your hips. He blinked at you, feigning innocence, but you weren’t about to let him slink away without answers this time.

The cat stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneak out, then padded toward you with that familiar, too-casual saunter. By the time he reached you, he shifted back into his human form with a dramatic sigh, ruffling his messy hair as if you’d truly inconvenienced him.

“I was just stepping out,” Wooyoung said, giving you that infuriating smirk of his. “Needed some air. It’s stuffy in here with all this—" He waved his hand around vaguely, “—magic.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “You are magic, Wooyoung.” Your tone was teasing, playful. “Haven’t you had enough of the outside world and tormenting humans for one lifetime?”

“I’m a cat. Gotta see what the world’s up to,” he shrugged.

There was a beat of silence, and you took a breath before speaking. “I heard your conversation with Hongjoong last night.”

Wooyoung froze for the briefest moment, his eyes widening just slightly before he masked it with another lazy grin. The shift in his demeanor was quick, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the flicker of panic he tried to bury.

"It’s not polite to eavesdrop," he teased, his voice light but edged with a subtle wariness.

You weren’t about to let him wiggle his way out of this one. You had seen the way he was squirming, avoiding the real issue, and this time you needed answers.

"What does fate have to do with me and Yunho?"

His smile faltered, a crack in his usual carefree facade. Wooyoung shifted uneasily, searching for the right words to soften the blow, but knowing there was no easy way out. He could feel your frustration mounting, the tension stretching unbearably thin.

"It’s... well, it’s like this," His voice lowered, and for once, he sounded serious. "Hongjoong thinks you and Yunho are bound together in ways that we don’t fully understand. It’s something that’s deeper and older…something that humans refer to as soulmates."

Soulmates.

It sounded ridiculous, unbelievable. You and Yunho, tied together by fate? He was just a traveler, someone the shop had revealed itself to. There was nothing special about him.

"How?" you scoffed, shaking your head as if the mere action would dispel the ridiculous notion. "He’s a stranger, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you.

"Well… the thing is you have met him before.” But the thing is... you don’t remember. Because you can’t, Wooyoung wanted to say.

"What are you talking about? Then why can’t I remember him? What did I forget?"

Your chest tightened. The frustration, the confusion, the pull you’d felt around Yunho ever since he first entered the shop—it all started to transform into something deeper, something more unsettling. It was as if a fog was lifting, revealing shadows of memories you couldn’t quite grasp.

He let out a long breath, rubbing his face. "It’s complicated. There are things...about you, that you don’t remember. That you chose not to remember."

Your mind raced. Memories? With Yunho? The man you barely knew, who had walked into your life like any other traveler? It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

"If I erased him from my life, then maybe I had a reason," you snapped, the words tasting bitter. Wooyoung winced but didn’t argue.

"Fate doesn’t just disappear because you forget. He’s still tied to you, even if you can’t feel it." He paused, his eyes searching your face, hoping for some sign of understanding. "Maybe it’s why the shop revealed itself to him. It’s fate, pulling you back together."

You could feel the ground slipping from beneath you, your grip on reality loosening with every word he spoke. What Wooyoung was suggesting—soulmates, forgotten love, fate—it sounded like something out of a dream, a fantasy too far removed from the life you knew.

"Why does it matter if I’m connected to him or not?" you continued, your throat tightening as the question lodged itself there, too painful to speak.

The air grew heavy, thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were reacting to the storm brewing inside you. The shelves rattled, and the shop’s energy pulsed erratically, reflecting the confusion and fear you could no longer keep at bay. The lanterns flickered wildly, casting frantic shadows that danced along the walls, twisting in the growing unease.

You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the chaos within, but your mind raced with unanswered questions, with the gnawing suspicion that Wooyoung was right, and it terrified you.

Wooyoung’s face fell, the spark of his usual wit dimming into something darker, something almost sorrowful. He shifted uncomfortably again, as though he wished to be anywhere but here, at this moment.

"Because no one wants to see you hurting, Y/N,” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with regret. "You were in so much pain that you thought forgetting him and becoming the keeper would make it stop."

That name again. Y/N. It echoed in your mind, a foreign weight on your chest. It felt like a name you should know, but it slipped through your grasp. A name tied to a life you no longer remembered.

"That toy," he continued, "it triggered something, didn’t it? The memories—the emotions—they were too strong. And when you felt that, your magic went unstable. The shop could barely handle it."

You shuddered, the memory of that moment still fresh, still raw. But one question clawed at you, louder than the chaos you’d unleashed.

What had been so unbearable that the only answer was to forget?

“Why is it so cold?” you groaned, bouncing on your toes and rubbing your hands together, trying to get the blood flowing.

The train station was always drafty, but today it felt like the cold had settled into your bones, refusing to leave. You shivered and glanced around, surprised to see no snow on the ground. It was odd—this time of year usually meant blankets of white everywhere, the world covered in a quiet stillness. Yet now, all you had was the biting wind and a gray sky threatening snow that never seemed to come.

Yunho stood beside you, his breath puffing out in small clouds as he huddled deeper into his coat. He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you.

“You’re always cold,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Should’ve worn more layers.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re practically a furnace,” you grumbled.

The two of you had decided to take the train home for the holidays after your first semester of university. You were both exhausted—finals had drained whatever energy you had left—but there was excitement in the air as Christmas approached.

“I’m surprised there’s no snow,” you mused, gazing up at the dull, overcast sky. The clouds hung low, thick and heavy, but still no sign of snowflakes falling. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Christmas without snow.”

Yunho hummed in agreement beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he followed your gaze. “Yeah, it’s like something’s missing. Hopefully, it’ll snow while we’re home.”

His voice was hopeful, and you could see the small spark of excitement in his eyes. Yunho loved snow—it wasn’t just the beauty of it, but the way it brought a sense of stillness and magic to the world. The kind of magic that reminded you both of simpler times, of building snowmen as kids and staying out too long until your fingers were numb.

The next morning, Yunho’s wish came true.

Snow. Fresh, untouched snow covered everything. The rooftops, the streets, the trees—it all glistened under the early morning light, as if the entire world had been dipped in magic overnight.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he hoped for when you both had been standing at the train station, wondering if Christmas would even feel like Christmas without snow. Now, it was here. His wish had come true.

But more than that, he wanted to share this moment with you.

You blinked up at the sky, a few lazy snowflakes still drifting down, landing on your lashes and melting against your skin. Yunho stood beside you, watching the way your eyes lit up, the way you took in the moment like it was something precious.

The two of you stood there for a while, wordlessly watching the snowfall together. It was the kind of stillness that felt sacred, the kind that only came with the first snow of the season.

As Yunho glanced at you, his breath caught. You weren’t doing anything special—just standing there, bundled up in your oversized hoodie, your hair slightly messy from sleep, your cheeks flushed from the cold. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all him. You were just you, in the most effortless way, and somehow, that had always been enough.

There was a simplicity to the moment that felt different, more profound than he expected. Last summer, when you’d spent long, sunny days together, he’d thought he understood what he felt for you. He cared about you more than anyone, maybe more than he should’ve let on. It was a love that had grown quietly, steadily, and was beginning to envelop him.

It was too easy to love you. Too effortless, too natural, as if his heart had always been meant for you. And that’s what made it so dangerous.

He knew that sometimes, love—no matter how powerful—wasn’t enough. The thought of risking what you had—this simple, effortless connection that meant everything to him—for something as unpredictable as love felt like falling into the ocean.

And Yunho wasn’t ready to make the jump.

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples as if that could somehow ease the pounding in his skull. His head felt like it was being split open, a dull, relentless ache that refused to let up. The events of the previous night were a blur—fragments of conversation, too many drinks, and the sinking realization that he’d gone well past his limit.

He’s supposed to head back to Seoul today, back to his life and the steady rhythm of work that usually kept his life in order. But there was no way he could face that right now, not with the amount of alcohol that had been consumed.

The events of last night came back to him in disjointed, hazy flashes. He remembered the way your fingers brushed against the plush toy, followed by the sudden paling of your face right before you collapsed to the floor.

Yunho’s heart had nearly stopped at that moment, the world around him crashing into stillness. The usual hum of the emporium faded into nothing, the vibrant colors of the shelves and strange objects blurring into meaningless shapes.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and he was running, sprinting toward you as if the very air had been torn from his lungs. The world shrank, narrowing to the sight of you lifeless in his arms.

"Y/N, stay with me," he whispered, panic thick in his voice as he cradled your unconscious body. It was the same terror he’d felt the day you disappeared, the same helpless, gut-wrenching fear that had kept him awake at night, haunted by the thought that he’d never see you again.

Yunho held you like his entire world depended on it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, desperate and unrelenting. He pressed his forehead against yours, as he cradled your head against his chest, the warmth of your skin barely noticeable as panic surged inside him.

“I’m sorry, just please, please don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice barely holding together. His fingers tightened their grip on you, trembling with the fear that if he let go, even for a second, you’d slip away for good.

He couldn’t lose you, not when he had just found you again.

Then came Wooyoung’s revelation. You had chosen to disappear from his life. It wasn’t an accident, or some cruel twist of fate. You had asked the shop to erase your memories—all of them. He could still hear Wooyoung’s voice, bitter and sharp, recounting the details, but the exact reason why Wooyoung had been so angry at him was lost in the fog of the night.

He remembered the sting—the way the door slammed behind him, the coldness of the night hitting his face as he stood there, dazed, confused and frustrated. You were alive, bound to this strange realm by forces he didn’t fully understand. But worse than that, you had willingly cut him out of your life.

After that, things blurred even more. He’d ended up at a bar, the numbness setting in as he ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the sea of emotions that threatened to consume him. Somewhere along the way, Yeosang had joined him, and Yunho found himself pouring his heart out—his frustrations, his guilt, his failures. He had ranted about the weight of trying to be the good guy while everything around him crumbled.

Now, in the harsh light of day, the weight of it all hit him with a different kind of intensity. His heart felt heavy, and he had no idea where to go from here.

Yunho sat up, staring at his phone as if it might give him the answers he was too afraid to ask for. His thumb hovered over Haewon’s name on the screen, trembling slightly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—he didn’t have a plan, only a sinking feeling in his chest that told him he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.

The line rang once, then twice. By the third ring, his heart had started racing, the weight of everything he had to confront pressing down on him like a vice. When it went to voicemail, Yunho’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, it’s Haewon! Sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!”

The artificial cheer in her voice made his skin crawl, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He could almost picture her—smiling, carefree, the version of her that had loved him wholeheartedly. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. That wasn’t who they were.

"Hey..." he finally whispered, “give me a call when you get a chance.” Yunho waited for a beat, as if hoping she might pick up at the last second, but the line remained silent, empty.

“Yunho? Aren’t you getting ready to head back?” His mom’s voice was gentle, but it startled him from his thoughts. She appeared in the doorway, concern etched in the lines of her face.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I’m going back,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with uncertainty.

His mom walked in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, her presence warm and calming. She had always been able to read him better than anyone, even when he was trying his best to hide. Mrs. Jeong didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence hang between them, giving him the space to breathe.

“Tell me more.”

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything he’d been holding in. It was strange—he felt like a teenager again, venting to his mom about his problems, but this time it felt more suffocating. The future he had thought he wanted, the life he had worked so hard to build, no longer felt like his.

“I’m hungover. I’m miserable. I don’t want to marry Haewon. I’m not happy with my job or where I am in my life. Mingi is my only friend, Yeosang kind of hates me, and Y/N…” He let out a watery chuckle, the sound laced with bitterness. “She’s gone.”

There it was, the truth laid bare—the reality that had been gnawing at him for months, too terrifying to confront. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything he had been trying to ignore.

Mrs. Jeong’s gaze softened as she listened, her heart heavy with a mother’s instinct to protect, but knowing she couldn’t fix this for him. She reached out, placing a hand over his.

“You’ve been carrying this for a while, haven’t you?” Her voice was soft, laced with a sadness that only came from witnessing the quiet battles of someone you love.

Yunho looked down to their joined hands, his throat tightening. The words he had held back for so long hovered on the edge of his lips, threatening to escape.

“I thought I could handle it. But—" He paused, his fingers gripping hers a little tighter, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the floodgates closed.

"I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Mom. Of the job, the engagement, everything. It’s like I’m suffocating, and I don’t know how to breathe anymore.” he replied, quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. The fear that had been chaining him to a future he didn’t want.

His mother exhaled softly, her brow furrowing as she absorbed his words. After a moment, she squeezed his hand and spoke gently, her voice calm but firm.

“You’ve always been so considerate. Always thinking of others. But have you thought about what you want? Truly want, not just what you think you should want?”

It wasn’t something Yunho had ever allowed himself to consider fully, and even now, the thought seemed almost too outlandish, too selfish. But the way his mother looked at him, with such understanding, made it feel less frightening, less impossible to confront.

“You’re allowed to want something different, Yunho. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to choose yourself.”

Her words struck something within him, unraveling the tightly wound rope of expectations he had tangled himself in for so long. He hesitated, his heart pounding as he dared to voice the question that had haunted him for months.

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I called off the wedding?” His voice was small, almost as if he were afraid the very mention of it might cause everything to collapse around him.

His mother shook her head, her expression soft and reassuring. “Of course not, Yunho. Haewon is lovely, but…” She paused, choosing her words carefully, as she looked at him. “I always felt like she wasn’t the one for you.”

Yunho blinked, surprised by the admission. His mother had never said anything like that before, and in all their talks about the wedding, she had always been supportive, never giving any sign that she might have doubts of her own.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, almost incredulous.

“Because you’re finally listening to yourself. This is your life, not mine, not anyone else’s. It wasn’t my place to tell you how to live, Yunho. I wanted to believe that you knew what was best for you.”

“And if I quit my job?” he asked, testing the waters, anxiety sparking in his voice.

“Gunho would be thrilled,” she laughed. “You know, he was absolutely livid when you took the finance job over the Tigers. I’ve never seen him so upset with you! He ranted for weeks about how you were wasting your talents behind a desk instead of being out there building the ultimate dream team.”

His mother’s laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “We’ve all had our hopes for you, Yunho. But those were our hopes, not yours. Life’s not a straight line. It’s full of twists and turns. You don’t have to stay on a path that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

There was something comforting about the idea, the notion of stepping away from the path he had chosen, back to something that felt more like home—more like himself. Sitting with his mother, he began to wonder: What if it wasn’t reckless? What if choosing the life he truly wanted wasn’t some wild, selfish fantasy? What if it was okay to dream again?

His mind wandered to you, to the quiet snowfall and how the snowflakes caught on your lashes. He thought of that summer, driving to the beach, the wind in your hair and the sun beaming down on you, like the world itself couldn’t touch you as long as you were together.

He thought of meeting you for the first time at six years old, running across the street and greeting you as if he’d known him your entire life. It was as if he’d found his other half that day, the person who made him feel complete even in his innocence.

But then, more painfully, he thought of meeting you for the first time again. Only this time, you hadn’t known him at all.

With you, there was no need to fill the silence. Everything felt easy, natural, like you were meant to exist beside each other. You were his best friend, the one person who made him feel like himself. And suddenly, Yunho knew.

It was you.

The version of himself that existed when he was with you—that was who he truly was. It was a terrifying realization, but at the same time, it was the most certain thing he’d felt in a long time. You had always been the one constant in his life, the one person who made everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t.

And he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose you.

He wanted a future with you.

Yunho swallowed, his pulse quickening, but for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind was clear.

“I think…” he began, his voice steady, resolute, “I know where I want to go from here.”

Pushing open the door, the familiar chime rang through the shop. It was empty, save for you, and Yunho’s breath caught when he saw you standing behind the counter, bathed in the glow of fading daylight.

He glanced over at you, watching the way you moved, how you seemed so different and yet so familiar. The person standing in front of him was still you, the same person he’d known since childhood. The memories from childhood rushed back again—the snow, the summer sun, the first time you played baseball together. It all made sense now, in ways it never had before.

“Yunho,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth as you lifted your hand with a graceful flick. The scroll hovering beside you shimmered for a moment, then dissolved into the air, disappearing as if it had never existed.

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asked quietly. There was something boyish, almost shy, in the way he looked at you, like he was a kid again, standing in front of his crush, hoping for something, anything, that would tell him he was making the right choice.

“Better. Thank you for being here the other night. It seems like you were a big help to Wooyoung.”

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmured, his voice soft as his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a quiet admiration that he couldn’t quite hide, no matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"I uh…" he hesitated, his eyes flickered away for a moment, as if searching for courage in the silence between you, “I’m leaving for Seoul. Just to take care of some things. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your eyes, the corners of your lips lifting in that familiar way that made his heart stutter. A playful yet gentle hum escaped your lips.

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Your question hung in the air, teasing him, pulling at the tangled mess of feelings he'd tried to bury for so long. He looked at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he struggled to find the right response.

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he felt completely exposed. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

The air around you seemed to still, the gravity of his admission settling like dust in the corners of the emporium. The idea of leaving felt wrong to him, and yet it was inevitable, something he had to do.

Your eyes softened with understanding, feeling more like home than any place he could go. Something in your gaze recognized him, sensing the invisible thread that tied you together.

“No matter where you are,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the same calm assurance that had always soothed him, “the emporium will always be within reach. As will I.”

The words were simple, yet they held a promise—a promise that went beyond physical space or memory. The emporium was never bound by the ordinary rules of the world, and neither, it seemed, were you. Your small, understanding smile made Yunho feel that, despite the uncertainty, everything would be okay.

“Besides,” you continued, a playful glint flickering in your eyes, “I can always ask Wooyoung to lend a helping hand. He knows the way.”

“That cat does nothing but bully me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, recalling how Wooyoung had made him a target of mischief.

Your laugh filled the space between you, a sound that seemed to chase away the heaviness for just a moment. Though Yunho tried to maintain his frown, the corners of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a reluctant smile.

Even though you didn’t remember him, it didn’t matter. There was something deeper between you, something unshakeable. And that, in its own way, gave him the strength he needed to leave.

You stepped forward, that invisible thread that had always seemed to exist between you tugged at your heart, drawing you toward him. It was a connection that transcended words, possibly even space and time. Yunho’s eyes lingered on you, their quiet intensity making your heart skip a beat.

“The next time I come into the shop,” he began, his voice low, “I’ll be ready to make my wish.”

You searched his face, trying to read the depths of what he meant, but all you found was that same gentle fervor staring back at you.

“You’ve thought about it?”

“I have,” he admitted. “With everything that’s happening, I think I finally know what I want.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a promise. Whatever his wish was, it wasn’t something to be rushed—it belonged to the future, a time when he was ready to claim it. And somehow, you understood that.

“I’ll be waiting,” you whispered, though you knew Yunho heard it.

As he turned to leave, a sudden thought gripped you, pulling you back from the brink of your goodbye. “Yunho… before you leave…”

He froze at the sound of his name on your lips, his heart fluttering. Every breath, every glance, vibrated with something unspoken, something powerful.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

<< iii | v >>

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie

#ateez #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez fic #modern au #ateez au #magic au #yunho #ateez imagines #yunho angst #forget me not #supernatural au

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roseykat · 1 year ago

Text

TITLE: Table Manners and Bible Studies

PAIRING: Jeongin x reader

SUMMARY: Jeongin, a churchgoer who is also a very sexual person, likes to immerse both you and himself in the realm of sensory play, among other things as well.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: themes of BDSM centred around sensory play, soft dom Jeongin, explicit language, use of ice cubes, body-safe hot candle wax, a feather, blindfold, safe and consensual play, nipple stimulated orgasm, mentions of religion (no specific religion is being mentioned here but the concept is that Jeongin is religious for the purposes of this work).

MASTERLIST

He goes to church. That’s all you know about one of the guys in your class who always dresses well, dons cute glasses and seems well put together. He’s an intriguing one among the masses of students that attend and even with the volume of people, he still stood out to you even if he was quiet.

However, it was never in your interest to approach a guy like him. He and his four friends, all from the same church, seemed relatively lovely and all kept to themselves. From your perspective, it appeared as if two of the girls really liked him. If they did, you don’t blame them. Whoever he was seemed to be sweet.

“Still eyeing him up?” Your friend Minho pokes you in the ribs with his finger, lulling you out of your thoughts.

“I’m not eyeing him up,” you snap defensively, averting your stare away from his group to refocus on your lunch with him.

“Just say he’s hot,” he encourages. “If I’m willing to admit it, then you should.”

“You think he’s hot?”

“And you don’t?” He questions back, almost offended that you didn’t assume otherwise.

“I suppose that means something coming from a whore such as yourself,” you remember with a sigh.

Minho nods in agreement with your statement, “and as a whore, I’m telling you he’s hot. So why not go for him?”

“That’s not who I want though,” you say to him.

A cackle nearly breaks out from his mouth, “that’s right. So how is the hunt for one of those dom boyfriends going anyway? Isn’t that the type you’re looking for?”

“He doesn’t have to be, but it would help significantly,” you answer truthfully. “I just think that would be the best way to get my foot in the door for getting into BDSM.”

“I seriously don’t know where you got that idea from, but you don’t need to go searching for a boyfriend who’s into BDSM to get into it,” Minho truthfully informs you. “There are sites and apps where you can connect to doms and go from there. But if you do, don’t just jump at the first dom that you see. Always do background checks.”

You sometimes forget that Minho himself is in the BDSM scene. He has been for a while and for as long as you’ve known him, you’ve always been interested in what he does. From his stories, they sound exciting and riveting; exactly the kind of thing you want to try out to make your sexual life a little more lively.

“I know that,” you whine. “If not that, then I don’t really know where to begin.”

“Well, we all start somewhere,” he says with a hint of optimism. “Since you’re interested still, there’s a BDSM convention at the end of this week. If you want to get your foot in the door with it, I reckon you should go.”

“A convention?” You ask with intruigue. “What do they host there?”

“They’re there to promote safe BDSM to people and have a variety of pop up stores on site that sell anything related to it,” he answers. “I’m supposed to be going but, I’ve got something else on at the same time. In fact you can have my concession.”

“Are you sure?” You ask.

“Yeah, it’s already printed off,” he says. “I’ll give it to you on Thursday.”

It was a good idea at first, but come the day of the event, your nerves were shot. It was your first time being surrounded by anything like this. Particularly by yourself. It was a bit stereotypical to assume that the convention was run something along the lines of seeing naked people tied up, some in cages, or live scenes taking place in front of crowds.

That wasn’t the case at all. It was almost like a niche grocery store where the locals gather to buy homegrown fruit and veggies. Some part of that concept helped calm a few nerves.

Once you receive your concession band, you start around the front area of the pop-up stores. People were lining up to see demonstrations of shibari methods and most were interested in buying a series of items for the bedroom.

They were all displayed like sea creatures at a fish market, waiting to be bought. From cattail butt plugs, clover nipple clamps, juicy erotica novels - one of which you picked up - lengths of different coloured ropes, wooden floggers, riding crops, and so much more.

Away from all the chaos at the stalls was an area called BDSMC; BDSM and coffee. It was a way to set people up with potential doms and or subs. Each individual looking for a buddy would order a coffee or drink with a green cup that had either letter on it; D for dom or S for sub. Red cups were exclusively 'do not approach' because the person either didn’t want to engage or they may already have a partner and are just there for some good coffee.

It was an awesome set-up and had you thinking about heading over to maybe find someone who would be interested. However, you stored away that thought as you continued to have a look around.

One thing that was painfully obvious to you was the fact that people weren’t there by themselves. They were either there with a group or their partner, making you feel even more out of place and slightly overwhelmed. But you weren’t going to tap out early. Minho gave you his ticket not only because he couldn’t attend, but also because he wants you to experience what you’re looking for, for yourself.

So you scour out the stores under the guise of your own interest, coming across a few which struck that interest. There was one store tailored specifically to pain play, a heavy aspect of BDSM. Another stall had all to do with sexual health, consent and BDSM - not necessarily selling anything, but just there to answer any questions that people may have.

One place had caught you attention, a store all to do with sensory play and deprivation - a term in which you’ve came across within the realm of research into BDSM.

In nicely orgasnised lines were individual packets of silk blindfolds in a variety of different colours. There were boxes of body safe candles, most likely for temperature play, noise cancelling headphones, sleek metal handcuffs, and other items that had you wondering how they work.

“Hello, anything I can help you with or just browsing today?” One of the shop owners approaches you from behind the table.

“Oh, just browsing thank you,” you reply back to her.

“No worries, let me know if you need anything,” she smiles back at you and walks down to the other end of the long table.

“Hello, do you have any of these in black?” A person beside you asks to another store keeper.

Out of sheer interest, you briefly look up at the person just as an unspoken social acknowledgement while the owner tends to their new customer. But to your absolute shock and surprise, the person enquiring happened to be someone very familiar.

The jet black hair, distinct glasses, the trendy casual outfit...

…there was no way.

“We should do. I’ll have a look around in some of our storage containers just behind the back for you,” she says helpfully.

“Thank you,” the customer responds.

It was definitely him, and whilst your eyes had been glued to his presence for such a long time, his gaze catches onto it.

“Hey,” he spoke in a mousey volume.

You stall in your step a bit just as you were about to walk away to remain unknown, but the angelic purity in the tone of his voice lulled you back. You’d feel bad if you didn’t greet him too.

“Hey,” you say to him awkwardly. “How are you?”

“I’m good thank you, yourself?” He asks back.

“Yeah, good thanks. I know you, sort of. Aren’t you in my class?”

It was a useless question to ask considering you’ve spent too many times looking at him to know that it’s definitely him. That distinct soft expression couldn’t pass you by. The only thing different is that he wasn't swarmed by his usual collective of friends.

A small smile spreads on his face, “yeah. I’ve seen you here and there. You usually sit close to the front.”

“That’s right,” you nod, bewildered that he knows who you are and where you sit during class. “So…what brings you…here of all places?”

Jeongin shrugs with a smile, “interest. You?”

You nod, “also interest.”

The lady pops back from behind the screen with some items, “you might be out of luck. We’ve only got grey and white left but there’s a couples' one for you and your partner here.”

Your mind stutters upon hearing those words come out of the lady’s mouth, “oh he’s not - we’re not-“

“What about any more of these? Preferably in black as well?” Jeongin picks up a baby pink coloured blindfold and presents it to the woman. He seemed to have saved that awkward statement yet wasn’t entirely effected by it as you were.

“I’ll have a look around the back again and see if we’ve got anything,” she says, quickly rushing off.

“Sorry about that,” he says apologetically to her.

He was as nice as he looked. Almost like a gentle, placid puppy which makes you wonder, how is someone like him at one of these conventions. Specifically, someone who is quite religious. You didn’t want to judge right away, but that was the preface of your observation.

“I take it you’ve never been to one of these before,” he points out as he waits.

Your shoulders relax defeatedly, someone had finally ripped down your facade, “can you tell?”

“Just a little bit,” he grins. “But props to you for coming here on your own by the looks of it.”

“A friend of mine recommended I go so I thought I should,” you respond, eyeing up some of the other products.

He nods engagingly, “really? Why did they recommend it to you if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Just…looking to get into BDSM,” you reply honestly, feeling comfortable enough to talk to him about this. Plus there was no point in hiding your intentions given where you are now. “He said I should go to one of these events, check out the stores, and see how some of this stuff works I suppose.”

The lady returns from the back with exactly what he requested while also picking up a few extra things before paying for the lot. Your attention fixates on those items, wondering who he uses them on; a pyrex glass dildo, one tube of strawberries and cream flavoured lube, and also a ball gag

Whoever his partner is must be lucky.

The shopkeeper bags all of the items he paid for in a discrete bag before he thanks her.

“That's a good step, but if you’re a beginner, it’d be best for you to start out small,” he advises just an idea suddenly strikes him. He wonders for a second about whether or not it’s appropriate to ask, but he considers your circumstances and why you’re even here.

“I figured that. No point in me diving right into the deep end when I can’t swim yet,” you agree.

“You know, because we’re both here, we should get together sometime so we can talk about these kinds of things. I could show you how all of these work too if you want,” he pitches his suggestion to you, holding up the bag of things that he just purchased.

You stare up at him, utterly bewildered, “wait, are you serious?”

“Only if you are, otherwise-“

“No!” You cut him off. “I mean, yes - yes I am serious. It’s just, I was shocked that you even asked me.”

He stifles a chuckle as a reaction to you being so oddly yet unforceably cute, “alright then. I’ll give you my number. I’m Jeongin by the way.”

“Jeongin, okay. I’m Y/N.”

It was nice to finally put a name to a handsome face. Jeongin, who was as unsuspecting as the come, had exchanged numbers with you before you both departed. He left you wondering so much more about his personality and particularly his interests with BDSM. It even made you forget to text Minho to tell him how well the convention went.

Right before you decided that you were going to ring him, a text came through to you from Jeongin.

To you from Jeongin: ‘Hey Y/N, it’s Jeongin. It was nice meeting you the other day. I was wondering if you wanted to catch up over coffee to talk and get to know each other more. If so, when are you free?’

You to Jeongin: ‘Hey Jeongin, it was nice meeting you as well. I’m free in the afternoons throughout the week. We could go for coffee on campus after class if it’s not too far?’

Jeongin to You: ‘Nope, that’s perfect. Shall we say Monday straight after? We can head there together.’

You to Jeongin: ‘Sounds good to me. See you then.’

Jeongin to You: ‘Yup! :)’

With those responses from him in mind, it made looking forward to Monday a little more palatable. Usually, it’s hectic with quizzes, tonnes of readings, and a boring two hour lecture. Meeting up with Jeongin meant you had something to look forward to after class.

Just as the lecture comes to an end, you look back to the middle row of seats in the centre section of the room as you pack up your things and see Jeongin waving out to you. You wave back, acknowledging that you’ve seen him and watch him say bye to his friends before he makes his way down to you. A couple of them seemed rather puzzled that he was leaving them, but nonetheless, they let him be.

“Hey Y/N,” he says to you, walking down the steps. “What did you think of that?”

“Boring as per,” you groan. “It made me want to sleep.”

Jeongin laughed, “shall we go before you fall asleep then?”

The pair of you exited the theatre together and headed to one of the nearby cafes on campus. Normally teeming with hungry students, the venue wasn’t as packed as it usually is from the help of classes that run through into lunch. It meant that you and Jeongin were able to receive your drinks relatively quickly in order to sit down and start talking.

“How was your weekend?” He asks you.

You finish bringing your drink down from your lips, “not as exciting as I wished it had been. Mainly just catching up on some of the online work that we were meant to do.”

Jeongin is shaking his head but silently agreeing with you, “I don’t know why they bother giving us tasks to do online.”

“I suppose to make us suffer even more,” you guess.

“I think you might be right, and since it’s worth credit, we have no choice,” he snickers. “But anyway, on a completely different note, what did you think of your first BDSM event?”

“Not as daunting as I was expecting it to be,” you answer honestly. “It was pretty pleasant, to say the least, and the people I met were really nice.”

“That’s good to know,” Jeongin nods. “Usually I hear of beginners who get too overwhelmed and never come back. It’s a shame really because they only see the tip of the iceberg.”

“Do you normally attend those events?” You ask him, still immensely intrigued that he even went in the first place.

“Only when I can,” he responds. “Most of the time, classes and other stuff get in the way, but I’ve found a balance now. What made you want to get into BDSM anyway?”

“A friend of mine is well into that space and I always hear him talking about it. Since then it’s always interested me, so I started doing some research about it,” you answer. “It was the same person who told me to go to that event.”

“Smart choice for doing your research, not many people do and just head straight into something they don’t know,” Jeongin mentally applauds you. “It can turn out to be a really good or really terrible experience for beginners.”

“Yeah, he warned me about that,” you chuckle, just thinking of Minho and what he’s said to you in the past. “What about you? How did you get into BDSM? Sounds like you’re already in that space.”

“I am. I’ve been in it for four years, since the start of my degree,” Jeongin confirms adjusting his black glasses. “I got into it just by interest as well - similar to you, except, I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing someone who was already part of this space so some things I had to learn the hard way.”

“Then I take it that you’re relatively experienced then,” you respond, inferring an assumption already.

Jeongin smiles shyly, almost like he’s somewhat embarrassed by your comment, “you could say that. Is it right to assume that you’re looking for someone to do scenes with?”

You give a nod, “yes. Just…didn’t know who with.”

“That fits then; given that I have some experience and you haven’t yet, then maybe we do a trial, see if we click, those sorts of aspects. What do you think about that?” He asks you.

An excitement thumps against your chest, “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” He replies with optimism. “Then if it’s okay with you, do you maybe want to talk about some of your kinks and things that you don’t like and organise a time and place for our first scene?”

“I’d love to.”

Both you and Jeongin brought a lot of ideas to the table, conducting a healthy discussion about what you’re both into and not. Although he openly stated to you that he mainly presents himself as a dom, he was open to switching too. However, for the purpose of getting you into the swing of BDSM, it would be best for him to take the reins.

So with a little more talking, you both came up with a set date and time for the first scene which was to be at Jeongin’s place; not too far from campus. All the information and the logistics leading up to the scene were slightly nerve-wracking but didn’t match your level of excitement.

Considering your inexperience with BDSM, Jeongin had to factor in what would be the best method of easing you into things. Sensory play was the one thing that came to mind. It’s not too extreme, can involve some restraints, and can act as a good stepping stone for a BDSM beginner.

“It’s a good way to start off,” Jeongin said to you back at the cafe. “If it’s just sensory play only, people don’t usually climax from it. But if there’s some sort of sexual penetration that’s involved, then most likely. I don’t do the latter.”

“Still sounds like fun,” you replied.

“It is. I can deprive you of one or more of your senses which will only enhance the other.”

His way of describing the basics of sensory play could’ve easily put you to sleep – not because it was boring, but because his voice was so silky smooth that you could listen to it all day. The fact that he has so much knowledge about a subject was strangely erotic.

With your mind cleared in preparation for the scene, Jeongin flicks you a text an hour beforehand to see if you are still keen. He definitely knows that you are, but it’s also to cover his end as a dom to ensure that you know that you can pull out of the scene before it starts.

To You from Jeongin: Hey Y/N, still on for tonight?

From you to Jeongin: ‘Hey! Absolutely, I’ll text you when I’m at yours?’

To You from Jeongin: ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

Even if you didn’t want to go through with it tonight, Jeongin would be okay with that. For whatever reason why you would say no, he’s happy that you would feel safe to refuse. But never in your wildest dreams would you ever think of refusing, because as soon as it was time to leave, there was no doubt in your mind that you would turn back.

You had showered and packed a bag with a towel, extra clothes in case, a water bottle, and some snacks. If anyone were to come up to you and look into your duffle, their only thought would be that you’re heading to a gym nearby, not heading to your first BDSM scene. It was a nice little secret to have.

As you arrive on the street of Jeongin’s apartment, you text him to say that you’re nearly there and knock on the door once you’ve officially made it.

“Hey,” he greets with his smiley usual self. “Come in.”

“Hey,” you respond, looking around as you step in.

It was rather spacious which is usually not generous with student accommodation. Normally it’s one room cramped with a desk, chair, inadequate storage underneath the single bed and a community bathroom down the hall. By the looks of it, Jeongin had all this space to himself including a small bathroom and mini kitchenette area.

“Wow, you got lucky with student housing around here.”

“Can’t stress the word ‘lucky’ enough,” Jeongin emphasises, closing the door behind you as you take your shoes off. “Took me about four months last year just to apply for a viewing. But after living in shared accommodation on campus, I needed my own space.”

“Fair enough,” you say. “Some student spaces are lucky enough to have wallpaper. But anyway.”

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” He offers. “I bought food earlier on.”

“No it’s okay thank you, I made sure to have some water and food before the scene,” you politely refuse.

“Okay, good,” Jeongin nods, impressed even. Those who forget to eat before a scene will often find that their energy depletes faster, rendering them unable to continue or even worse, it could go hand in hand with a sub drop. “Then in that case, shall we get started?”

Your stomach flips excitedly, “sounds good to me.”

Jeongin does the honours of leading you to his bedroom. It’s adorned with a minimalistic aesthetic and beautiful muted tones. There’s a decent queen-sized bed centred back against the wall. Laid on top of its surface is a black cardboard box and a set of black restraints right beside it in contrast with the white fitted duvet. Flickering on the bedside table burned a red candle.

From what you could gather, it was most likely for wax play, but it smelt amazing. Almost a woody with a tinge of floral essence to it that filled his room.

“We can start the scene by taking your clothes off and I’ll get these restraints ready, okay?” Jeongin suggests to you.

“Okay.”

He steps over towards the mattress, picking up the long restraints. Only two – one for each of your wrists that he was going to link to the bedposts. He secures the ends of them in place while you strip yourself down to your bra and underwear. You fold them over your arms as Jeongin returns to carefully take them from you and places them on his chair in the corner of the room.

He comes back once he’s done, eyeing up your body. It’s not that he meant to gawk or observe you per se, but he was in fact silently appreciating your body. He could only just hide the fact that he’s very taken with how you look and the way you pull off a simple black bra and underwear set.

It wasn’t lingerie, but they were intricated pieces. Jeongin seems to be aware of that when you feel him delicately glide his fingertips down the straps of your bra from behind while you stare into his mirror on the wall.

“This is is pretty,” he says.

You swallow quietly, content with his observation, “yeah?”

“Yes, but unfortunately I need it off for this scene. Is that okay with you?” He asks.

“That’s okay,” you reply clearly.

“Okay then, what’s your colour?”

“Green.”

With your given consent in mind, Jeongin works behind your back to unclasp your bra and places it with the rest of your clothes. It’s not an awkward moment for either of you given that it was nothing in comparison to the things he had planned for you.

“Beautiful,” he comments, his eyes lingering for a few seconds too long in the mirror. Your cheeks instantly become hotter, hoping Jeongin can just hurry up and put the blindfold over your eyes so you don’t have to look at him. “Let’s move to the bed. I’ll get you to lie down so I can put the restraints on your wrists.”

On his instruction, you make your way over to his bed after he moves the black box to the nightstand. You sit down on the mattress edge and prop your legs up until you’re able to lie down flat with your head on his pillow.

Jeongin slightly manoeuvres each of your arms before strapping your wrists into the restraints and for a couple of seconds there, you’re in your own mind. It still baffles you that you struck gold with Jeongin by absolute chance. Not to mention he’s the same person who attends church and goes to bible studies and is the same person who’s tying you to his bed.

“Not too tight?” He checks in with you.

“Nope, that’s fine,” you reply.

Jeongin takes the lid off of the box on the side and takes out the silk black blindfold he purchased from the convention the other day, “okay, I’m going to place the blindfold over your eyes now.”

You nod as total darkness shields you from the predictable. Now you can’t see what’s coming next. The excitement and anticipation hinder all nervousness you’ve been feeling while Jeongin takes a moment to appreciate the state that you’re in. It’s not often for him to be so taken with a person to the point where he just about forgets what he’s doing.

Only then does he realise that he’s in a scene and needs to refocus.

Once he’s content with everything, he decides to move on, “now we can start.”

He goes back to the box, careful not to make too much sound so that you can’t grasp a hint of what might be inside. The first item he picks up is a long, spindly black feather. It’s simple yet very effective, responsible for creating that ticklish sensation when he dances it lightly and softly along your skin. On its first contact, your nerves try to anticipate where Jeongin will take the feather next, but their guesses come up short when he uses it somewhere else.

The feather glides from the base of your throat, downwards and in between your tits. Jeongin then uses it to delicately lick over your nipple, making you keen slightly to one side. You can’t help but suppress a moan by biting down on your lip. It shouldn’t feel this good too early, but you can’t help your body’s natural reaction to the feather that leaves tingles in your muscles throughout its wake.

The smile on Jeongin’s face indicates that he’s enjoying watching you squirm and quietly whimper, still teasing you with the black plume. He drags it from the tips of your toes, up your shin, and right over your clothed pussy, making you press your head back into the pillow.

Jeongin makes a mental note of that reaction and smirks. To him, those small effects of what he’s doing to your body with only a feather, make him wonder how sensitive you really are. But it’s not his whole desire to spend too much time with it and proceeds to move on to something else; the hot wax.

After placing the previous item in the box, Jeongin swaps it for the candle. The catcher has collected a substantial amount of wax at the bottom which will allow him to pour the majority of it out before it starts to solidify. But Jeongin stalls for a moment as he tries to make up his mind on where to pour first.

In his opinion, he wants to cover all the sensitive parts that you’ll let him. Your tits, collarbone, throat, tummy, wherever. Eventually, however, he knows he’ll get to those places. So he starts with your tummy, watching the hot wax drip and dribble onto your skin, hardening as it makes contact.

A gasp is forced out of your mouth, “s-shit-“

“Too hot?” Jeongin asks you, pulling back the candle before he goes to pour again.

“N-No,” you shake your head fervently. “J-Just wasn’t expecting-"

Jeongin pours a steady line of wax in between your tits, prying your mouth open for slightly quiet yet strained moans to roll from the base of your throat.

He expects you to have some sort of reaction to the hot wax, but not like this. Usually, people try to escape from the head, some swear like sailors, and others might scream or yelp. You on the other hand…it makes him wonder if you’re a masochist with the way you’re moaning from the slight pain.

Nonetheless, he drips more wax, this time down your abdomen, forcing you to purse your lips to suppress any sound.

Despite the temperature of the thick content, your brain, for whatever reason, deduces it as a good sensation rather than a bad one. It does burn a bit, but not to the point where you feel like you need to call for a break. That feeling when it settles into the skin where it’s magnificent and warm is too good to pass up, allowing you to keep going.

With the session barely in full swing, you’re trying to keep it together for Jeongin so that hopefully he’d invite you back for another. Yet, within the second you even start thinking about that, Jeongin pours some of the wax, just about the line of your underwear, making you tug hard on the restraints.

“Fuck – oh my god,” you groan, feeling the heat emulsify within your lower half. It spreads beautifully, just where you want it. “That feels…”

“Good?” Jeongin asks, making your back arch slightly when he drips more wax from your sternum to just above your belly button. There are some areas that he won’t cover with the wax since he wants enough sensitive space for the next part of the scene.

“Y-Yes.”

Since Jeongin has some verbal confirmation from you that the heat feels good, his indication of pinning you for being a masochist grows stronger. It’s not abnormal, but it’s rare. Not everyone is a fan of pain and some even find it confusing when it’s applied in the bedroom.

That’s not Jeongin though. He appreciates pain and pleasure in a controlled environment. In saying that, he cannot make a full observation of whether or not you’re a full-blown masochist. He’d need to actually ask you first and run other ‘tests’ to achieve a result.

In light of the pain, Jeongin makes use of the little wax he has left, steadily pouring it onto the underside of your tits – close to where you want it. When there’s no content left at the bottom of the catcher, he moves on once more. This time, to a completely opposite temperature.

He sets the candle back down on the nightstand, leaving it to continue burning so that the aroma fills the room rather than smoke if he were to blow it out. You then hear his footsteps shuffling around to the other side of the bed, making you wonder what it is that he’s doing. But despite tuning your ears into his every movement, Jeongin makes sure to be as careful as he can to ensure that you don’t know what’s coming next.

The one thing that you hadn’t noticed in his room the second you walked in was a mini tin bucket of ice cubes on the other side of his bed. He gave away zero hints towards his next move, so when he quietly picked up one of the cubes and immediately placed it just above your tits, you suck in a huge gasp.

“Geez, I wasn’t ready,” you sigh out some of the anticipation that’s building inside of you.

Jeongin smiles, “good.”

The areas of your body that are free from the hardened wax allow him to glide the ice cube gently over your skin. The temperature in comparison to the wax is electrifying, more so than what you ever would have anticipated – had you known it was coming.

Jeongin watches the ice cubes melt from your body heat, seeing the droplets of water pool for a second and run down your sides. When the first cube has melted down completely, Jeongin picks up another. This time, he drags it slowly above the band of your underwear again.

“Mm! Fuck…” you exclaim loudly, trying to conduct the sensation when it only just builds. “S-Sorry.”

“You’re okay,” Jeongin reassures you.

He then brings the ice cube up to one of your nipples, causing you to arch your back and tug on the restraints simultaneously as a sharp gasp leaves your mouth. The corners of Jeongin’s mouth perk up at your reaction. He doesn’t want to be too predictable and switch to your other nipple. Instead, he manages to pick up another ice cube and uses it on your other nipple, dancing it around your sensitive buds that have begun to stiffen and perk up.

Your poor brain is confused by the stimulation. It’s not happening between your legs but you can feel it from your chest. It feels weird not to be contracting around anything, which only makes you wish you were. Nonetheless, it’s still valid stimulation that you feel building and at first, you’re not sure if it’s an orgasm that’s forming or if it just feels good.

Regardless of the matter, you can’t help it. It’s patterning the pleasure for you to experience without you having any say in it whatsoever. Your mind is muddled with what to say – how to express how you feel or what’s happening to your body.

Jeongin has some idea of it now that he’s been listening to you panting and watching you writhe on his bed just from a couple of ice cubes. However, he wants to see how this plays out.

“J-Jeongin,” you mumble, sucking in small breaths of air. “I’m…”

His ears spring up at the sound of his name, but he refrains from saying anything at all. Instead, he picks up another ice cube, allowing the one in his left hand to melt away before applying the fresh one. The chilly sensation replenishes but it doesn’t stop that sensation that you can feel in your tits all the way through to your pussy. Even though it feels similar to an orgasm, it triggers zero verbal response when it decides to hit you out of nowhere.

Jeongin sees your mouth part, your legs bracketing together like they’re trying to find something to clamp around. All the while, he doesn’t stop stimulating your nipples with the cubes until your back is flat on his bed again. He had to see it through to the end.

Breathless and slightly dazed as you were, the first thing that came to mind was that you did in fact cum. Following that came anxiously wondering what Jeongin’s reaction was.

At that, an invisible weight of embarrassment starts tugging you down. You wanted the blindfold to remain over your eyes, terrified of meeting whatever expression was laden on Jeongin’s face. There was no point in trying to gauge how he reacted when you orgasmed, but there was one thing for sure and that was he didn’t stop you from doing it.

A few lingering moments later, Jeongin becomes satisfied with the tail end of the scene. He got through the aspects of sensory play that you both wanted to cover from the conversation you had at the beginning of the week.

He gently removes the silk blindfold from your eyes, fixing some of your hair in the process to get it out of your eyes. Even though your eyes shy away from his face, Jeongin can easily see the deep red burning through your cheeks.

“I’ll get these off for you,” Jeongin murmurs, already freeing one of your wrists from the restraint before moving on to the other.

Once you’re completely unrestricted, you sit up straight away and start blabbing out an explanation to him.

“Just so you know, I didn’t have other intentions going into this,” you speak quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting to…to-“

Slightly taken aback, Jeongin had to step in to reassure you that there’s nothing wrong, “Y/N, it’s okay, seriously. It’s not your fault that your body couldn’t help but do what it needed to. But you’ve just come out of a scene and I want to make sure that you’re ok-“

“Yes but, you said the other day that people don’t usually climax from sensory play only,” you interrupt him.

He softens a bit, a small grin forming on his face, “I said ‘usually’ not ‘never’. I didn’t rule out that possibility.”

You suddenly click onto his words, “so there is a possibility that they still can.”

“Yes, but you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about or sorry for. Some people can orgasm through nipple stimulation. It’s not always easy, but you managed to do it, with ice too, and relatively fast. Plus, I thought it was cute,” he responds.

‘Cute?’ If melting from embarrassment was a thing, you’d be a puddle all over his floor. Your face comes to fall into your hands, almost making him giggle.

Jeongin then continues, “now, if you’ll let me help you, I’ll show you to the shower to get some of the wax off. Then we can have some of that food I was talking about earlier.”

A/N: again, this was meant for Kinktober but my dumb ass didn’t upload it. I’m turning this into a bit of a slow burn series, but not just yet because I’m working on other things atm as listed down below:

1. Noxious Compulsions

Minsung x reader (you can find the snippet here)

2. Foul Play

Part 2 to Don’t bite the hand that feeds you

3. Venom Eater

Part 2 to Venom Biter

4. Some things are better left known

Part 2 to ‘Some things are better left unknown’

These are the main pieces that I’m working on at the moment bc they will be quite dense, and I try to add as much detail in as I can. However, there are 100% other things that I have still sitting in my Doc’s folder that I’ll release too!

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader

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m0llygunn · 1 year ago

Note

had a cute thought: reader speaking softly to eddie as he’s asleep. reader does this occasionally and they whisper sweet nothings to eddie or tells eddie about their day (he doesn’t know this since he’s passed out) though, this time he’s pretending to be asleep. not for any reason, he just didn’t move or anything when reader entered his room and sat next to him in bed. would eddie stay pretending to be asleep as the reader whispers to him or would he surprise and embarrass them by responding? 💕

anyway it’s not much to go off of i apologize, but i hope to get ur input on it! have a good day x

this is sooooo cute!!! don't even apologize omg i love this so much! i personally think that eddie is an act first, think later kind of guy, so embarrassing you would be nothing but an afterthought; however, he'd also be intrigued to hear what you had to say and would continue pretending until you were done (or until his lovey dovey heart couldn't take it anymore hehe). then once he got his fill of sweet nothings, he'd absolutely be surprising you and littering you with kisses and his own sweet nothings! I wrote a quick little something-something inspired by this bc i love it!! but i changed your idea a teensy tiny bit (hope its okay!)

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Eddie loves you dearly— so, so, so dearly. You know that, he knows that, and he’s pretty sure that every person in the country knows that.

He loves you so much, but he would oh-so-dearly love to go to sleep right now.

The only issue is you’ve got what he likes to call the ‘zoomies’. Yes— like puppies get when they’re all full of energy and excitement, and just have to have everyone’s attention. You’re being silly, and giggly, and prodding at him to entertain yourself— which he loves and finds so endearing, but after a full day of work, band practice, and then doing all the chores that just won’t leave him alone, he’s wiped clean.

So when you continue giggling, making yourself laugh by doing things like squeezing his cheeks together, and playing with his hair by putting it in all different directions that you think is just so funny, he ‘falls asleep’.

At first you don’t buy it.

“Eddie, I know you’re faking,” you said, still giggly as ever.

Eddie responded in a grumbled and sleepy ‘huh’, that had you second guessing.

“Are you really falling asleep?”

Eddie hummed quietly, sealing the deal.

“No fun,” you pouted quietly, leaning into him.

Under the weight of your shoulder pushing against his chest, he pretended to rouse the slightest bit, quietly murmuring your name, putting on the best performance of his life. You made a quiet little sound, like a sighed defeat.

He felt bad making his poor baby upset like this, all pouty and huffy, but it’s late and you should be going to sleep anyway (or maybe he’s just tired and trying to justify this one teeny tiny little white lie).

As the seconds on the clock ticked by, you seemed to accept that he was asleep. Giggly-no-more, you settle into his side, laying close to him, both of you cozied under the blankets together. Despite the warmth and calmness that now encapsulates the room, Eddie was so wrapped up in selling the idea that he was asleep that he forgot to actually fall asleep.

Just as he had begun to nod, you placed a flat hand to his chest, stirring him back awake.

“Just keep sleeping, Eddie. Okay?” you had whispered. It was an odd tone that you used, and an even odder phrase, seeming almost like you were up to something. He kept his eyes closed as you paused, keeping your hand pressed to his chest. It felt like a trap to him, like somehow you knew he was faking. In a quick decision, he decided to stick to his guns and continue his facade.

“Eddie?” you had said not long after, voice raising the slightest bit louder.

With a quiet hum from your lips, he felt your hand move from his chest, fingertips gravitating upwards, brushing over his bangs, pushing them back with a gentle lightness that was almost tickle inducing.

Voice honeyed and sugary sweet, “I love you,” whispered from your lungs, making his chest squeeze.

Your fingers brushed against his forehead again, grazing so softly down to his cheek, and he questioned whether or not he had actually fallen asleep. With the edge of your nail coasting across his chin, he decided he was still very much awake, he’s not dreaming just yet.

Only now he was faced with a dilemma. Does he do what he so desperately wants to do? Give up his act just to kiss you? Or does he continue pretending to be asleep, keeping you blissfully unaware of how he’s deceiving you?

“Thank you for loving me,” you whispered even more quietly than before, pulling Eddie from his internal debate. “I never could have imagined finding someone who is as kind as you are.” You let out a quiet breath, gathering your thoughts. “And for you to love me… I’m the luckiest person in the world,” you continued.

With every word, you took shallow breaths that fueled your whispers. Eddie felt his whole chest squeeze all at a once. His heart pitter-pattered happily in his chest and his lower lip threatened to jet out, revealing all of his ever-growing big emotions, but you continued, forcing him to pause and listen.

“‘Cause you’re so nice, and funny— and I love that you let me squeeze your cheeks and poke your bum and make your bangs all messy,” you giggled softly to yourself, and Eddie was a melted puddle of a man at your side.

He let you continue, selfishly wanting to hear more.

“And I love that you are so good at being yourself and… I don’t know…” you trailed off. “I guess, being around you has helped me be myself too. Thank you for loving me,” you sighed. You’re starting to sound tired, no doubt getting closer and closer to the cusp of sleep, but you push forward, voice turning into the cadence of a groggy ramble. “I love you so much, Eddie, and I hope you’re having really good dreams right now because I love you and you deserve them.”

Such a powerful ability you have, to be able to reduce him to a love-stricken mess of a man. All it took were a few sweet nothings whispered in your gooey, syrupy sweet voice and he was melting. A mess of a man that suddenly had the slightest threatening sting behind his eyelids as his soul swooned for you.

The final straw; when your lips connected to his chest in a loving, drawn out kiss, his fate was set. He couldn’t not kiss you. Without even blinking his eyes open, he was pushing himself over you just enough to press kisses wherever he could land them.

“Eddie!” you exclaimed in true shock. He pressed kisses across your cheek and down your jaw.

“I fucking love you,” he rasped through his tired voice.

“You— you’re sleeping,” you huffed. “Eddie,” you drew out in a whine.

“Thank you for loving me,” he said with all the conviction in the world. He truly was a lucky guy to get to call you his.

His kisses expand down to your neck, just dainty things, light presses of his lips that he hopes translate the way his heart soars for you. Gentle, chaste kisses, one after the other, all the way down to over your heart. He presses a matching kiss to the one you had given him, drawing it out, adding all of his love and adoration into it, just for you.

“I love you,” he promised, lifting his head to catch your gaze. A cross of embarrassment and smitten affection spans across your face, and he moves in for the kill— a kiss straight to your lips.

“You were pretending,” you pouted, furrowing your brows at him.

“Never,” he lied.

“You were.”

“But you’ll forgive me because you love me, right?” he smiled as big as he could, doing his best to butter you up. He watches the way your coy smile breaks and he considers it a win.

You didn’t dignify him with a response, you merely rolled your eyes before pushing yourself into his chest, cuddling close enough to hide your face and your growing smile.

“I’m going to sleep,” you huffed against his skin.

“I love you,” he replied proudly, both smug and happy.

“Love you,” you mumbled back, and he swore that even if you were mad at him in the morning, it was all worth it.

Maybe he ought to pretend to be asleep more often.

──────────── ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

i hope you liked it! sorry if there were any spelling mistakes! thank you and hope you're having a good day as well! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #anon ask

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gabessquishytum · 5 months ago

Note

The Honorable Mr. Dream Endless is engaged to Mr. Hob Gadling, and while he’s perfectly happy to be so, part of him can’t help feeling just a little disappointed. Don’t get him wrong, he’s head over heels in love with the gentleman, and is confident in Hob’s love for him. But he’s always been a voracious reader of novels, and when he had first entered into society a part of him had been hoping for the type of wild and dramatic romance he’d always read of.

But their courtship and subsequent engagement, while lovely, was rather sedate and lacking in drama. Both of their families approved of the match, and neither Dream nor Hob had any other jealous suitors or past entanglements looking to separate them. There were no financial or class issues that could be obstacles to their marriage, and no buried secrets or scandals threatening to come to light. Neither of them even had any dubious acquaintances or access to properly mysterious locales that could provide such excitement.

When Dream confesses such to his sister Death one evening, he reassures her that he is definitely, wildly happy to be engaged to Hob. It’s simply that he’d had such delicious fantasies of rogues and abductions and intrigue, and it’s a little hard to let them go now that he’s settling down, even if it is with the love of his life.

Death comforts him, but he completely misses the thoughtful and mischievous look that appears on her face, and he also misses her quiet scheming with Hob later the next day.

Dream does think it’s odd, a few days later, when she suddenly suggests that the three of them go visit the couple’s new estate—their soon-to-be home after the wedding—for a time, and Hob immediately agrees but claims that he still has some business in town that would keep him behind a day or two. But Dream shrugs and agrees to the plan anyway, and he and Death set off.

He’s completely taken by surprise when the carriage is stopped, about half a mile away from their destination, by the sound of a gunshot and a vaguely familiar voice shouting “stand and deliver!” He’s alarmed and a little excited, until he turns to look at his sister and is instead suspicious, as she seems not at all worried or even surprised.

The carriage door opens, and there stands a dark figure dressed in black, holding a pistol, with a handkerchief tied around his face. It’s not enough of a disguise, however, to conceal for longer than a moment or two that this sudden highwayman is in fact his fiancé Hob!!

Indeed, upon seeing Dream’s recognizing him, the “highwayman” winks at him before turning to Death (who is clearly trying to fight off a grin) and declaring that he can see they have no real money or jewels for him to steal, so instead he’ll be taking the lady’s lovely companion with him as compensation. He then pulls Dream from the carriage and whisks him past all the drivers and footmen—who do nothing but look indulgently on—to a waiting horse, before carrying him off into the woods.

——

Hob and Death had indeed thoroughly planned the whole thing out in order to give Dream the kind of romantic escapade he had longed for. They’d planned exactly where Hob would intercept the carriage, and had informed all the necessary servants in advance so that no one except Dream would be taken by surprise. Hob had waited by the side of the road with his face bare until he and the carriage driver had made eye contact and clearly recognized each other, to prevent any mistaken identity shenanigans, before tying on the handkerchief and getting into character. He’d only had the one pistol with the one shot, which he’d fired into the ground, to minimize the possibility of accidental injury or damage.

The estate has a cottage in the woods, close enough to the house to be easily reached by horse in case of an emergency, but far enough from anywhere else that it was unlikely to be accidentally disturbed. They’d made sure that the cottage was fully supplied and prepared to have Hob keep Dream “captive” there for a day or two in order to thoroughly ravish him, before Hob escorts him to the house and drop hims off. He “threatens” Dream to keep his mouth shut about this experience and any other visits the “highwayman” might be inclined to make in the future, lest his husband-to-be “discover” that Dream was now ruinously compromised, before riding off and returning again as himself, inquiring with a grin and a twinkle in his eye if anything exciting had happened while he was gone.

Dream hadn’t thought he could possibly love his fiancé more than he already did, but after the deliciously thrilling experience he’d been so generously given, he feels like his heart could burst with emotion. In response to such a cheeky question he can only wordlessly throw himself at Hob and kiss him with all the passion he possesses, before remembering to play along and pulling back to claim that nothing particularly interesting had happened, he had just missed his betrothed so very much.

(Already Dream is looking forward to the next spontaneous appearance of The Highwayman, and wondering if there were any other roguish characters from his novels that Hob could also be convinced to masquerade as. Certainly he no longer has any concerns about the rest of their marriage being disappointingly sedate!)

-🪽anon

This is utterly wonderful and so delightfully written, I had so much fun reading and imagining the shenanigans.

Dream has so much to think about as his wedding day approaches that he almost forgets The Highwayman altogether. Certainly on the day of the nuptials he's thinking only of Hob, of their love for each other, and the deep contentment that he feels in the knowledge that they are forever united. Even better, Hob has planned a honeymoon at the seaside, which is something Dream has always longed for. Their wedding night is unspeakably perfect, and the morning after is even better. Dream is sure he could get used to being pleasured by his dear husband every morning.

For the duration of the honeymoon they stay at a very pleasant inn, and several days pass in utter bliss... before Dream wakes up one morning and Hob isn't there. He's disappointed, but only momentarily - the door creaks open and standing on the threshold... its The Highwayman!

Hob enters the room with a roguish grin and puts his (empty) pistol down at the end of the bed, before pouncing on Dream. He growls that he'd been laying in wait for a moment to catch him alone, that he needed to be sure that Dream would "behave" and not inform the authorities of his previous kidnapping. He says that Dream’s husband must be very unattentive to leave such a pretty little morsel waiting in bed...

It's a very nice wedding present, and Dream enjoys his second visit from The Highwayman almost more than the first. Hob allows himself to be a little more rough in this persona, and Dream loves it. Having all of his husbands strength let loose on his body is the most excellent treat. And after their morning adventure in bed, Hob sweeps him up and takes him on a long horseback gallop across the beach, which leaves Dream feeling thoroughly sore and sated. He's honestly pleased to be treated gently for a day or two after!

Hob has other characters he plans to debut later (The Pirate, for example), but The Highwayman will always be an old favourite. And of course, Dream loves his husband best, out of all the characters he may play <3

#🪽 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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greg-montgomery · 2 years ago

Note

energetic!reader going on long rants while grumpy old man aaron just sits and listens with a small smile. he lowkey loves being able to be silent for long bits of time.

-🍒

“Mmm…you smell so heavenly,” you murmured against Aaron’s neck, curled up nicely on the couch, right by his side. His hair was still wet from the shower he had taken and you felt little drops of water falling on your cheek.

Your fingers pushed back his hair and ended up scratching his temples, causing him to close his eyes in bliss. “That’s nice,” he said.

You’d keep going forever if it meant Aaron would be happy.

“I missed you today,” you pouted. “I wish you had the same days off as me.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He kissed the side of your head and spoke again. “Tell me about your day.”

‘Tell me about your day.’ That was a sentence you heard from your boyfriend almost daily, whether he was right next to you like he was at that moment, or in a hotel room away from you and whispering on his phone.

You suspected it was therapeutic for him, to listen to you talk about silly things and forget about his work problems, even for a moment or two.

“Well, first of all I went on this long walk in the morning, after you left,” you said, continuing to play with his hair. “And I tried those new headphones you got me!” You shifted from your comfortable position and sat on your knees in excitement. “They’re perfect.”

He smiled softly, and reached out for your face. His thumb stroked your cheek, gently, for a few seconds and then his hand was back on his lap.

“And then, on my way home, I went to this little coffee shop that I showed you last week I wanted to try. And the barista drew a little heart on my cup, how cute is that?”

Aaron chuckled, softly. “Very cute, honey.”

“Then I made lunch and watched TV for like two hours,” you laughed. “I liked being lazy.”

“You deserve it,” he answered.

“But then I got all motivated!”

“Oh?” he raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah! I cleaned out our closet. All your ties are organized by color now, so it’s easier for you to choose one every morning! Same with your suits and shirts."

"That's very thoughtful, baby."

"I stole some of your old sweatshirts, I hope you don't mind," you said acting guilty with your palm covering your mouth.

"I don't," he smiled.

"Then Jessica called and we facetimed for about an hour. Jack is so excited to come home tomorrow. He said he has some new projects to show us! Something, about Spider-man, apparently. I know, shocking," you said, laughing at your own joke.

Aaron joined you with a more quiet laughter, but genuine anyway.

“What else?" you paused, thinking. "Oh! Earlier in the evening I started reading this story.”

“What is it about?” he asked, always happy to hear about your interests. You adored him for it.

“It’s about this girl…she’s dating a really sweet guy, but then she falls for his older brother. It’s like a love triangle.”

“With two brothers?” he asked, intrigued.

“I know. But the older one is hot, so I kind of don’t blame her,” you giggled.

“Hmm…” he said.

“It’s only because he reminds me of you” you said, and pressed little kisses against his jaw.

He grinned and his hands went to your sides, bringing you to his lap and soon you were straddling him.

“Come here,” he whispered and you leaned in giving him a sweet kiss on the lips.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Make my world so beautiful.”

You got flustered at his words and hid your face in the crook of his neck. “I love you, Aaron. I’m happy to have you back home.”

“I’m happy to have you here waiting for me, my love.”

#aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #ask #🍒 anon #hotch 🪐

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luci-is-a-bitch-x3x · 1 year ago

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Obey Me! Diavolo & Barbatos with a Goth MC! : basically my thoughts on what their reactions would be, how they would handle having a goth partner, ext.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Welcome! to another part of this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Goth MC! who does the make up, the white foundation the "crazy" eyeliner, the black/grey or dark color eyeshadow and blush. Classic black or red lipstick with matching nail polish on the Mc's fingers. The saggy looking hair that matches the make up, oh so well. Goth MC! Who has the unkept look, but at second glance you can tell their well kept. At least to some extent. The Mc has raggy, ripped looking outfit but upon closer inspection its clear the outfit is perfectly kept up with. Goth MC! Who has an over extent looking outfit, looking like rags on rags, and the Mc has a dead looking apperance appearing to have risen from the grave. Almost the perfect example of a goth baddie. How will they react?

Diavolo

When Goth Mc crashlands in the Devildom, Diavolo is Fascinated! He may not understand why their dressed Goth but he still thinks Goth Mc looks adorable! Diavolo would ask all kinds of questions. "Why do you choose to dress like that? Is it a human custom? Goth?? Whats that? Tell me everything!!" This is all assuming he doesn't already know what goth is lol. Diavolo is just an excited puppy eager to learn anything about humans. So please entertain him with Goth culture or just tell him dark stories. Maybe even talk about music and how complicated that can be. He'll be amazed! "There's a whole sub-culture for Goth? Thats wonderful! You must tell me all about it!!" With those puppy dog eyes and that grin of his, Goth Mc would have no choice but to talk nonestop about goth things until Diavolo's curiousity subsides. If it ever does.

Diavolo can listen to Goth Mc for hours. Even when Mc leave Diavolo will be thinking about what Mc had been telling him. Instead of doing his paperwork he would daydream or think of more questions related to Goth culture just so he could ask Goth Mc. Barbs and Luci are banging their heads against the wall, so much unfinished paperwork. Poor bbys.

Dating Diavolo is super supportive. Diavolo loves Goth Mc's look! Humans somewhat looked down on the Goth apperance? Diavolo will make a Devildom where its the complete opposite! He wants Mc to be happy and safe in Devildom. I mean honestly, whos going to say anything to Goth Mc when the Demon Prince is standing next to them anyways? A psychopath? "No harm or hate shall come to you when hes besides you, Mc!" Diavolo will happily parade Goth Mc around formal events, arms linked proudly showing the Devildom that he's with them.

Speaking of formal events, Diavolo expects Goth Mc to dress gothic when attending an event. "You should feel comfortable being you, Mc. The Devildom is a Safespace for you." Or he'll make it one. Diavolo will gladly provide Mc with formal gothic attire if Mc doesn't have/can't afford any. He just wants to see his cute little human all dolled up! It fills Mc's gothic desires so win, win situation.

Diavolo is the Demon Prince so he is going to give Mc amazing gifts, and he'll do it all the time. No occasion needed! Diavolo may give Mc some extravagant goth item. Or maybe he'll bring Mc along to the grand opening of something spooky like. Diavolo doesn't care what it is if Goth Mc wants it he'll give it to them. As long as its reasonable. Diavolo may one day be becoming king, but Goth Mc is his ruler.

Barbatos

Barbatos can see the future so like he probably saw Goth Mc coming before they actually arrived in the Devildom. But even if he didnt,the most of a reaction Mc would see is an intrigued eyebrow raise. Barbatos is very good at keeping his composure. Nobody can know his thoughts or see how hes feeling hy his reaction.

I feel like Barbatos would enjoy the goth aesthetic. Similar to what i said with Satan's reaction, Barbs enjoys that the goth look appears to be an artistic outlit. Barbs also makes clothes so i feel like he would appreciate the Goth attire in general. Taking inspiration from it at some points.

Dating with Barbatos is pleasant. Barbs isn't always free. Hes a busy man babysitting taking care of the Demon Prince. However Barbs always makes it up to Mc. It can be small acts or even small presents just subtle ways of trying to apologize for not always being free. Barbs knows Goth Mc's favorite everything, as a butler its his job to be observant and know everything about those he looks after. So Goth Mc can expect their favorites with him.

Barbs will gladly sit and have tea with Goth MC as they teach him of Goth culture or talk about something dark. Mc's telling him about this gruesome horror movie they watched recently? He's nodding along and sipping his tea with a fond smile. He'll occasionally ask a question or add something into the conversation. "The suspense is killing me, do tell me what happens next my dear." Said straight faced, but he really is intrested!

Barbs doesnt find Goth Mc's appearance or interests offputting. Everyones fond of their own things, and he finds Mc to be very unique. Barbs is a high respected demon with a lot of power. I doubt anyone would say anything bad to Mc with him around, but if they did he would handle it very professionally. He would give them a snarky passive aggressive remark. He cant do anything crazy without "shaming" Lord Diavolo so he just handles it calmly and professionally. The poor sap that said whatever to Mc was never seen again tho. Mystery what happened lol.

Barbatos defiently gives Goth MC amazing gifts. He has connections everywhere, if he sees something goth or something that makes him think of Mc, he'll get it for them. Mc will also recieve outfits he made for them, obviously it matches their goth aesthetic. Barbs maybe a busy man but he's always thinking of Mc. He gives them gifts all the time, small or large with no reason other than- "I saw it and I immediately thought of you, my dear. I may not be allowed to be with you always, but you're forever on my mind." Barbs is unbashful and will gladly spoil Goth Mc, with compliments or presents and any other ways he can. He just wants his little human to understand he cares.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Next up will be: Solomon, Simeon, & Luke(platonic) Stay tuned! Stay safe! & EAT YOU'RE VEGGIES! ‹𝟹

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

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808airsoftbros · 8 months ago

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The Half Engine (Blackpink)

Author: Just a teaser hint for my upcoming Halloween oneshot. If you want to see more of my stories check out my Masterlist

The Original Half Engine story was by: [thebogieboy] (His Youtube) Genre: Crossover/Horror

Author's POV

It was a ordinary day on the island of Sodor, the engines had been working hard all day on their branch lines delivering passengers and goods across the island.

They were all looking forward to a goodnights long rest at the sheds, everyone that was except for James.

"How long are we going to be kept waiting? At this rate, will be home by nightfall," James sighed as he was waiting at the station.

"Have no fear, James, I'm confident will be back home in no time!" His driver assured but that didn't help ease his mind one bit as he had already seen the sun about to set down soon.

But it didn't help the fact that the weather forecast that there will fog this evening meaning their visibility is limited and travelling down the tracks will be dangerous.

Thankfully for James, he didn't have to wait much longer as his last passengers boarded the coaches.

James blew his whistle as he puffed out of the station to the next, the trip lasted about a couple hours and by the time he shunted the coaches into the yard, it was dark and foggy as predicted.

Despite Jame's headlamp shining brightly, he could hardly see a thing ahead of him so he had to travel down the line cautiously to prevent him from hitting anything.

Despite the Driver and Fireman being experienced navigators, they were eventually lost in the fog, and they didn't know they travelled down into a abandoned siding on the line.

"Stupid fog... I can't see a thing..." James muttered as he puffed down the line.

"Yeah, can't see anything in the distance either, no signs, nothing I'm afraid..." His driver replied and sighed.

"In that case, why don't we just get rid of these unused..." James paused as he saw something that caused his boiler and firebox to freeze.

James applied the brakes slowly putting him into a halt, the fireman and driver were confused and asked what he had stopped for.

However, James couldn't mutter a word out of his mouth as he shook nervously and the Driver got out of the cab to see what was wrong and they gasped as they caught the sight of a scrap engine.

"W-what the bloody hell?! What kind of sick person would scrap an engine like that?!" The driver exclaimed as they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

It was indeed a sorrowful sight to see the empty soul of an engine lying on the side but this was different... The engine was cut perfectly in half without error.

Half of the boiler, cab, funnel, and whistle can be seen, and they wonder how this would be possible as no skilled scrapper is capable of such a thing.

"I don't wanna know! Get me out of here! Get me out of here!" James demanded as he was too terrified to linger any longer.

The crew were quick to agree, they boarded into his cab and James reversed out of the abandon line as fast as his pistons and wheels can take him.

Back at the sheds, the engines were finally able to rest after a long day of work, Sir Topham Hatt arrived to deliver some news to the engine but they had to wait as James was absent.

Finally, James arrived back at Tidmouth sheds and the others were a bit worried and curious as to where James has been all this time as it was late in the night.

"Ah, James, so glad you can join us," Sir Topham Hatt greeted but James didn't reply as he was still too shaken from what he had seen earlier.

"Anyway, onto the point, I've come here to inform you all that we will be visited by celebrities from Korea, so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior, we do not want to give a bad impression, do we? Gordon, I'd like you to transport them from Vicarstown to Tidmouth Station, there we will begin the tour," He explained to the engines and they were quite intrigued and excited as they never had celebrities coming from across the world.

After that, Sir Topham Hatt got into his personal car and drove away from the sheds.

The engines chatted a bit about tomorrow until they eventually fell asleep except for James who could hardly sleep as he had a dreadful feeling that something or someone was watching them from the distance.

The night went on without any incident, James hardly got any sleep but still carried on with his duties as Gordon coupled to the express coaches and made his way to Vicarstown to pick up the guests along with Sir Topham Hatt.

When they arrived, Gordon saw a group of four young women, they stared at him with such curiosity and fascination that it almost made Gordon nervous.

"Ah, good morning, girls, I hope you all had a safe and pleasant trip! It's such a pleasure to have you all come to my railway, my name is Sir Topham Hatt II, and I'm the second generation running this fine railway. This is one of my prestige and trustworthy engines, Gordon, he will be taking you all to Tidmouth station, and we will begin our tour from there!" Sir Topham Hatt greeted to the four girls and they all smiled.

"Thank you for having us, sir, my name is Jisoo, I'm the eldest, and this man here is my manager," Jisoo introduced herself.

"I'm Jennie, I'm the second oldest, surely, you've once watched our music videos?" Jennie introduced herself with a hint of pride.

"My name is, Chaeyoung but everyone calls me Rosé, it's a pleasure to meet you~," Rosé introduced herself with such elegance in her voice.

"Hello, I'm Lisa, the Maknae of the group! This railway is such a nice place!" Lisa introduced herself as she admired the scenery and countryside.

After the introductions, the girls and the Controller boarded onto the express coach and Gordon puffed out of Vicarstown and began the journey to Tidmouth station.

Y/N's POV

As I finished doing my morning routine, I put on my work uniform, put on my coat, I put on my shoes, and walked out of the dormitory to Tidmouth sheds.

It was early in the morning at five am, I yawned a bit as I greeted Thomas as I was his driver.

"Good morning, Y/N, I heard we're getting visitors all the way from Korea!" Thomas greeted and I nodded.

"Yeah, I heard about it, they're a Kpop group called Blackpink, I doubt you heard of them... Ya know, since you're an engine," I replied.

"Oh, you'd be right, who is Blackpink and what is Kpop?" Thomas asked as he was slowly generating steam in his boiler.

"Kpop is a music genre, it's quite popular nowadays, can't go one day without hearing one of their songs, and they are talented singers and dancers, I watch them some time," I answered as I was shoveling coal in his firebox getting ready to start the day.

Then we heard a loud whistle and I recognized it to be Gordon as he rolled onto the rolling platform and joined the rest of us in the sheds.

I was wondering what was going on as Gordon should be heading out to take the express coaches by now but I was shocked to see Blackpink themselves.

They were walking with my boss Sir Topham Hatt, and they all stared at the engines with wonder and fascination.

"Good morning, everyone! I'd like to introduce you all to Blackpink, and they have come here for a tour around the island as I announced last night! To start things off, I'd like you all to introduce yourselves!" He instructed.

Henry, Emily, Thomas, Percy, and Edward all introduced themselves to the girls and letting out loud whistles as they generated enough steam in their boilers.

All except for James who still looked uneasy but he snapped out of his trance and introduced himself giving a fake smile trying to hide something.

"Wah, it's such a pleasure to meet you all! I heard so much about this place and it's amazing to be here in person!" Lisa replied as she walked up to the engines.

"Now, Thomas, Y/N, and Elliot, I'd like you to give them the tour around Sodor. Toby will be taking over your branch line for the day, that will be all!" The boss ordered us and we nodded.

"Yes, sir!' Thomas acknowledged and the controller got into his car and drove away leaving us alone.

I showed the girls inside of Thomas's cab, I let them blew the whistle a few times, but while I showed them around, I noticed James looked uneasy and so does the others.

"James, is everything okay?" Edward asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Oh, it's nothing..." James tried to play it off but it wasn't going to deter Edward one bit.

"Well, if I don't know any better but is quite rare... Poor little James has seen a ghost," Gordon teased.

Henry and Gordon laughed but the others remained silent including Y/N and the Blackpink members.

"I-I did see something..." James softly spoke up and the two stopped laughing.

"And what is that?" Henry asked in an amusing tone.

"I saw a scrap engine..." He answered and their smiles dropped to a confused to look.

"A scrap engine? That's it? I understand it's rather distressing to see those poor souls but we've all seen them plenty of times yet you never once looked this disturbed," Gordon pointed out but James sighed.

"T-this one was different, the engine was cut in half without a fault... Never seen anything like that before," James mentioned and the others were deeply disturbed.

Myself, Jisoo, Lisa, and Rosé, we're also disturbed about this, except for Jennie was very skeptical about the whole thing and wondered if they were just hallucinating the whole thing.

"James, you must've seen a victim of... 'The Half Engine'..." Thomas replied to him with a nervous look on his face.

"Thomas! This is no time for teasing!" James angrily growled.

"I'm not teasing you! I know exactly what happened!" He assured and Edward insisted on telling us.

Looking at Jennie's skeptical expression, I thought she wouldn't bother listening but she stayed and paid attention to Thomas anyway.

"A long time ago, when Sir Topham Hatt I was running the railway, it was the time when the North Western Railway was founded, many engines had been brought here to help including myself and others. However... there was one engine that was different," Thomas paused as he recalled the tale.

"Something horrible went wrong with her construction, she only had half a face, and the other half being her smokebox door, we could hardly understand what she was trying to say, maintenance on her was a nightmare to watch or listen to, and through all of this... She was in immense excruciating pain, every night we heard her crying and pleading for the pain to go away, it was so horrid that many of us could hardly stomach it," Thomas explains the whole story and the girls were in deep shock about this and again deeply disturbed.

Lisa and Rosé looked at each other with fear written all over their faces and Jisoo didn't say a word but Jennie was skeptical as ever.

"But the nastiest of us and even some of the crews saw it as nothing but a joke, this would all boil up inside of her and one day, her behavior changed for the worst... She became more violent, snapping at everyone she came across, even those who pitied her, and to make things worse, at night, she traveled down the sheds and down a heavily forested line, and when she returned, she swore that we would all perish on this railway, in her gargled barely identical speech, and we began to believe she was possessed and deranged in all her suffering, seeking any ways to get rid of her deformity,"

"Eventually, the Director of the Railway had enough, and he ordered another engine to take her down the smelter yard to be cut up for scrap, at the same time, myself and another engine were heading home from work, but as we made our way down the line, we saw smoke and multiple sounds of fire engines, we rushed to see what happened, and there was a sight I'll never forgot..." Thomas again paused.

"We never saw her again after that day... But rumors spread from workmen about noises on foggy nights, they all told us the same thing, it sounded like someone screaming in pain, and now it seems like her spirit still roams around the railway to this day..." Thomas finished his tale.

Again, the others were silent as the grave, deeply disturbed and terrified of this, the girls were shivering as they looked down the line wondering if perhaps the Half Engine was watching them.

"Pft. What a load of rubbish! Come on guys, you can't be seriously believing this is all real?! It's fake! Just like every other folklore tale! James, what you say may have been a hallucination!" Jennie exclaimed but the others didn't seem to agree with her.

"Jennie, I'm being serious here! It's all real and I was there!" Thomas warned her but she scoffed.

"Yeah, sure... Almost as real as any other scary ghost engine story!" Jennie sarcastically replied and Thomas sighed in defeat.

But little did Jennie know was that something was lurking in the shadows of the yard, watching the others before disappearing in the wind.

I swore I caught a glimpse of an engine down near the shunting yards but it vanished before I got a good look but I have a bad feeling about the whole situation especially for Jennie's safety.

We continued on the tour as scheduled, the camera crew and the girls were vlogging around the island as Thomas, Eliiot and I, were travelling down the main lines.

When it was getting dark, we head down back to the main line and concluded the day as we got good footage for their Youtube channel, and we arrived back to Tidmouth sheds.

After I finished putting Thomas into his designated shed, I guided the girls to the dormitory where they'll be sleeping for the rest of their stay.

"For a railway dormitory, it sure is nice..." Jisoo complimented.

"Yeah, not bad, right? Provided a place to stay and get paid, can't really beat that," I replied and chuckled.

"By the way, Y/N, is the Half Engine, real?" Rosé nervously asked and I sighed.

"If I'm being honest... That is up to you to believe what is real and what is not," I spoke to her with a solemn tone and she gulped.

Not wanting to intrude any further, I bid them goodnight and I went back into my own dorm to get some rest for the night.

Jennie's POV

As we settled into our dorm, the girls were getting ready for bed and go to sleep but I wasn't tired yet as I wanted to find out myself if the story of the Half Engine is real or just made up to scare us.

Regardless, I don't believe in the thing but I'm willing to give it a shot, I grabbed my phone and flashlight.

I snuck out of the bedroom without waking up the girls as I quietly exited the dormitory, the night was foggy and quiet giving an uneasy ambience.

Despite all of that, I pressed on as I made my way into the heavily forested line where the Half Engine is said to reside.

I pop up my camera app on my phone beginning to record my investigation.

"Alright, Blinks, this is the investigation of the legend of the Half Engine, where it says is a ghostly engine with half a face and the other half being her smokebox door. To be honest, guys, I'm not too sure about the whole thing, so let us find out!" I started the recording as I ventured down the foggy line.

Ten minutes into my mischief yet dangerous investigation there was nothing out of the ordinary that appeared other than some owls and occasionally deer.

Eventually I was starting to grow bored and figured this whole thing was a waste of time and began pondering if I should just head back to the dormitory.

"Aish, you know what Blinks, I'm tired so this concludes-" She was cut off when she heard a loud banshee like scream causing her to freeze.

"U-uhhh... D-did you hear that...?" She nervously asked the camera and again the scream was heard but this time it was louder.

Then I heard a faint sound of puffing of a steam engine heading my way along with the banshee-like scream.

"W-whos there?! This isn't funny?! Thomas is that you?!" Jennie called out but there was no response.

But at the corner of my eye, I looked into the fog and my stomach dropped as I saw a rusted engine charging at me. But her face was skeletal and the other half being her smokebox... IT CANNOT BE!!!

"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!" I screamed in terror as the deranged engine was charging torwards me and was about to run me over.

I closed my eyes standing still then I heard someone shouting out my name as I was trembling and frozen in terror.

"Jennie?"

"Jennie!"

I opened my eyes fearing to see that ungodly engine but it was long gone and I sighed in relief when I saw Y/N with Thomas with worried looks on their faces.

"Are you okay, Jennie?" Y/N asked as he shined his lantern in his hand.

"I-I guess..." I answered as I was shaken.

"You really shouldn't have gone out this late, do you know what could be out here? Bears, wolfs, and maybe even dangerous people," Y/N scolded me and I looked down in shame.

I pulled out my phone to call my members as they are probably worried sick about me but I gasped when I saw my phone cut clean in half without error...

"N-no way... How is this possible...?" I trembled as I tried to figure out what the fuck happened to my phone.

"You should consider yourself luckty it was your phone... Instead of you," Thomas spoke and I looked up to him.

"What do you mean...? The Half Engine did this to my phone...?" I nervously asked and Y/N nodded.

"Not many people live to tell their tale... Instead, they are found with their corpses cut in half... Just like the engines. I saw her once myself and that's why I consider myself the luckiest man on the island," Y/N explained and shivers ran down my spine as I felt thankful that it took my phone instead of me.

Thomas and Y/N gave me a ride back to the sheds and he guided me back to the dormitory and I was in for a lecture from Jisoo that night but that was the least of my concerns.

Whatever I saw... Whether it be the Half Engine or not, I will never forget it and I feel like this will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I feel sorry and regret that I didn't believe Thomas and instead risked my own life to prove that the Half Engine is nothing but a made-up folklore tale.

Throughout the rest of the trip, nothing happened and I never saw the Half Engine again, but the thought of it lingered in my mind, and sometimes... At night, when I sleep... I feel being watched by something or someone.

#kpop #kpop idol #kpop gg #bxg #x male reader #blackpink #blackpink rose #blackpink jisoo #blackpink lisa #blackpink jennie #kim jisoo #jisoo kim #jennierubyjane #kim jennie #rose #park chaeyoung #lalisa manoban #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine

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fatgirlonadate-blog · 1 month ago

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21 Days - Day 4

Life as an undercover fake wife isn’t exactly exciting, as it turns out. You’ve only been here for four days, and you’re already starting to feel restless. Xavier has spent most of the day setting up surveillance around the apartment, while you’ve been busy cleaning up the small piles of mess he leaves in his wake. Tech gadgets aren’t really your thing, but the telescope he set up on the balcony off your bedroom is intriguing. The thought of him out there, spying on people like a nosy old woman, is somehow much cuter than it should be.

Living with him is both like and unlike what you expected. He’s still the same quiet, sweet, and thoughtful person he’s always been, but you’d imagined the two of you would spend more time together. Instead, Xavier is always busy with one thing or another. You’re not exactly sure what he’s doing—after all, it’s just the two of you in this tiny apartment—but somehow, he always seems to be in a different room. Aside from sharing a haphazard meal and a bit of playful bickering about the ideal apartment temperature, you’ve barely spoken to him today.

You’ve been out on the balcony for a while, watching the sun dip below the horizon as the evening chill settles in. The last light of day lingers, painting the sky with deep shades of yellow and orange that gradually melt into a delicate blue. It’s the kind of sunset that holds you in place, almost hypnotic in its beauty, and it makes you think of Rafayel. He’d love this—he’s always had an eye for moments like these, where nature seems to put on a show just for the few who take the time to watch. You linger a moment longer, breathing in the crisp air and letting the colors wash over you before snapping a quick picture to send to him.

After slipping out of your t-shirt and jeans, you reach for your favorite cozy pajamas, a soft, well-worn purple set that’s just perfect for a cool evening like this. The fabric feels familiar and comforting as you pull it on, wrapping you in warmth. You glance over at the bed, which seems to be calling your name, promising a cocoon of softness and quiet. With a satisfied sigh, you pull back the covers, savoring the feel of the crisp sheets as you settle in, letting the day’s tension melt away. Snuggling deeper into the pillows, you grab your phone and open your text messages.

Miss Bodyguard: How's my favorite artist doing? I saw this and thought of you. Could be inspiration for a new painting?

Fishie: so you are alive

Fishie: its been like 800 years

Fishie: when are you coming back

Fishie: Reddie misses you and has been refusing to eat

Fishie: he dun like it when youre gone

A smile spreads across your face as a stream of incoming texts lights up your screen, each one making you miss him more. You shift, settling deeper into the pillows on what you now think of as your side of the bed. It strikes you as odd to have a side at all, something you’ve never really given much thought to before. But here you are, and it’s official now—Xavier claimed the side closest to the door on your first night together, and it’s been the same ever since.

Miss Bodyguard: Really? Reddie told you that?

Fishie: yes isnt it obvious

The next text brings a smile to your face—it’s a picture of Reddie floating in his bowl with a cartoonishly exaggerated sad face drawn onto the image, complete with stickers of oversized, dramatic tears. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the absurdity of it, but a laugh escapes you anyway, bubbling up unexpectedly.

You’re so absorbed in the conversation that you don’t even hear Xavier enter the room. It isn’t until you feel the bed shift under his weight that you realize he’s there. Startled, you glance up just as he sits down beside you. He peeks over your shoulder, his curiosity evident as he studies the screen.

"What has you smiling like that?" Xavier asks, his voice close to your ear.

You quickly angle your phone away from his prying eyes, casting a playful, almost challenging glance over your shoulder. He’s close—so close that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, an undeniable presence at your side. His eyes narrow as you shield the phone from him, and the soft glow of the lamp on his bedside table makes his clenched jaw look even sharper.

"Nothing," You reply quickly. "I'm just catching up with a friend."

Xavier hums thoughtfully and leans closer, "Which friend? Tara? What is she saying that's so funny?"

"No, not Tara...Rafayel. I think I've mentioned him before. The artist," you explain, unsure if you've ever actually told Xavier about Raf before. "And nothing really. He's just being his usual dumb self."

"Dumb, huh?" Xavier echoes in a colder voice, "He must be very dumb if you're smiling and giggling like that."

"He is. Very dumb. And you're very nosy."

"I am not. I'm just curious." Xavier argues.

"About Raf?"

"About you." He corrects.

You nod, acknowledging him with a small smile before turning back to your phone, ready to continue texting. But you’re fully aware he’s doing that thing again—the one where he pretends to be curious and indifferent, even though there’s an edge of jealousy just beneath the surface. It’s a confusing mix of emotions, but you’ve seen it enough times to recognize it now. You know you probably shouldn’t tease him about it, but it’s hard to resist; he’s adorable when he gets pouty and sulky, his aloof demeanor slipping just enough to reveal a hint of something real. It’s a strange blend of endearing and challenging, making you want to poke the bear even more, just to see how he’ll react.

Xavier casually shifts his body to lie down beside you, stretching out his legs on the bed with an effortless ease. He props his head on one hand, his gaze fixed intently on your fingers as you type out another message.

Fishie: even his scales are starting to get dull

Miss Bodyguard: I don't know. Little guy still looks pretty red to me.

Fishie: cadmium red is the color of sadness

Fishie: its a fish fact

Warmth blooms in your chest, and you stifle a laugh at his response. It’s a rare moment, almost like a confession, and you realize this is as close as Rafayel will ever come to admitting he’s the one who misses you.

You sneak a glance at Xavier, who is pointedly ignoring you by staring up at the ceiling. His brows are furrowed in concentration, and a small pout forms on his lips, giving him an adorably petulant look. He looks like a puppy who is being ignored.

Miss Bodyguard: That's a real fish fact?

Fishie: yes a very important one

Fishie: i was gonna tell you earlier

Fishie: but i didnt wanna interrupt your honeymoon

Fishie: hows your fake husband doing

The last text catches you by surprise. Rafayel has never asked about any of the other hunters before, and has never seemed particularly interested in getting to know your friends. He isn't exactly a people person.

Miss Bodyguard: Fake husband is fine. Getting ready for bed.

Fishie: oh so youre sleeping with him now

Fishie: moving a little fast dontcha think

A snort escapes your nose before you can stop it, the sound surprising you with its suddenness. There's no way to play it off or hide the embarrassment that washes over you, and heat instantly rushes to your cheeks, tinting them a light pink. You can feel Xavier's questioning gaze on your profile, even without turning to look at him.

"Do you like him?" Xavier asks abruptly.

You meet his gaze, surprised by the directness of his question. "Who? Raf?"

Xavier nods, watching you closely.

"Of course I like Raf. He's impossible not to like," you bait him. "It's a long story, but I was kind of his body guard. Now we're friends."

Xavier's expression darkens and a small frown pulls at the corner of his lips. "Do you wish you were more?"

"More?" You repeat slowly, pretending to be confused, "Like best friends?"

Xavier is silent for a long moment. His eyes flick from the phone grasped in your hand and then back to your face. "Do you have feelings for him?"

The tension between you is growing thicker by the second, and a small wave of uneasiness courses through you. You’ve teased him like this before about coworkers and strangers, but this moment feels different—more significant, more real. The truth is, you do have genuine feelings for Rafayel, and the thought that it might be obvious sends a flutter of anxiety through your chest.

"Not really," You reply evasively, trying to squirm out of the predicament you've gotten yourself into. "I told you, we're just friends."

Xavier studies your face for a moment, then turns his gaze back to the ceiling. His voice is tight as he says, "You seem very happy when you talk to him. He makes you laugh."

"Rafayel is funny," You defend, fidgeting with the phone in your hands. "He's my friend, of course he's going to make me laugh. What is wrong with that?"

"Nothing is wrong with that," Xavier agrees, but his eyes hold a storm in their depths.

Silence stretches between you, filling the dimly lit room with an electric tension. Your phone has become nothing more than a weight in your hand, the conversation with Rafayel fading from your mind as you become acutely aware of Xavier’s presence. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way he’s looking at you now, his gaze intense and unwavering. He studies you as if you’re the only thing in the world, a complex puzzle that he’s determined to solve.

You open your mouth to break the silence, but before you can utter a word, Xavier shifts closer, closing the distance between you. In one smooth motion, he reaches out and snatches the phone from your hand. Without a word, he tosses it onto his bedside table. It lands with a soft thud.

Your mouth drops open in a mix of surprise and annoyance. “Hey! That’s mine!” you protest, your voice a blend of indignation and disbelief.

Despite the instinct to climb over him and snatch your phone back, you remain rooted in place, caught off guard by the sudden boldness of his action.

Xavier deliberately ignores your protest, leaning over to turn off the lamp beside him with a casual flick of his wrist. The soft glow is extinguished, and the room is instantly plunged into darkness.

"It's getting late, Mrs. Shen. You can talk to your comedian in the morning," Xavier says coolly.

You huff in exasperation and turn away, facing the opposite direction on your side of the bed. It’s not like you to back down so easily; you’re not usually a pushover. But something about his tone drains the fight out of you.

"Fine,” you mutter, annoyed but clearly giving in.

Xavier pulls the blankets over both of you and settles down with his back to you. You close your eyes, trying to coax sleep to come, but it eludes you. Restlessness takes hold as you toss and turn, your mind replaying the earlier conversation that hadn’t gone at all as you’d hoped. You had wanted to bait him into doing... something, though you’re not entirely sure what that “something” was. But it was definitely not this.

Xavier's soft, even breathing is the only sound in the room, a gentle rhythm that fills the silence. Though he’s at least two feet away, you can still feel the warmth radiating from his body, trapped beneath the shared comforter. After a while, you sense the mattress shift as he turns, settling onto his back. The slight movement draws your attention.

"You're not asleep?" you whisper in surprise. Xavier has never struggled to sleep in the time you've known him.

"No," he replies simply, his voice low and steady.

You sigh and roll onto your other side to face him. The room is dark, but you can just make out the contours of his body and the angles of his face.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, turning his head to look at you. The hard edge that had marked his voice earlier has softened, easing the tension in your shoulders and making you feel a little lighter.

“Obviously not.”

"Have you tried closing your eyes?" he suggests wryly.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Mr. Shen," you reply sarcastically.

Xavier laughs quietly, and whispers, "See? I'm funny, too."

His laugh is soft and sweet, a sound that’s utterly contagious. Despite the tension lingering between you, you feel a smile creeping onto your face. You can’t stay annoyed with him. It’s one of the things you love most about him - he always seems to be able to make things better.

"I never said you weren't," you agree.

Xavier hums softly in response and shifts closer, closing the distance between you. He drapes an arm over your waist, pulling you gently against his side until your head rests on his chest. You can hear the steady rhythm of his heart and feel the rise and fall of each of his breaths. It easily banishes any remaining tension.

“Do you want me to help you fall asleep?” Xavier murmurs softly, his voice a gentle whisper in the darkness.

He brushes his lips against the top of your head, and his hand slides from your waist to slightly stroke your back through the thin fabric of your pajama shirt.

"Oh? Do you have a secret trick?" You ask, more awake than ever now that he's pressed against you.

Xavier's fingers move in a gentle pattern up and down your spine, "No, but I can tell you a bedtime story."

“A story?” you echo with a laugh, unable to hide your amusement. “I’m not a kid anymore, Xav.”

“You don’t like stories?” He asks, and his fingers pause on the side of your neck. “I thought everyone liked hearing a story before bed. You don’t want to hear it?”

“No!” You quickly correct, not wanting this moment to be over. “I do, go on. Let’s hear it.”

“Alright,” he says, and you feel his smile as he nuzzles against your hair. “Let me think.”

His hand glides from the base of your neck down to the small of your back, each gentle stroke sending warmth through you. Every time his fingers brush against the hem of your shirt, your heart races a little faster, a flutter of anticipation coursing through you.

"Once upon a time," Xavier begins, his voice low and soft, barely above a whisper. "There was a prince who was tasked with saving his kingdom. All hope seemed lost until he met a girl at school -"

"Did they fall in love?" You whisper, unable to stop yourself from interrupting.

Xavier huffs out a quiet laugh that rustles against your hair, and he shushes you, "Be a good girl and close your eyes."

A pout tugs at your lips, but you close your eyes as instructed, even though sleep is the furthest thing from your mind. You're acutely aware of his every move: the gentle brush of his fingertips against the bare skin of your neck, just above the collar of your shirt, and the reassuring rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. He resumes stroking your back, his warm breath grazing the top of your head as he speaks, each word wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

"The prince and the girl became friends and sparring partners. She was-"

"Was she pretty?" You interrupt him again.

"Be patient," he admonishes gently and continues, "She was very pretty, and she was the only person he had met in years who was able to beat him in a fight. He wasn't sure why, but he was drawn to her. He found himself watching her more than usual and trying to get to know her."

Despite the thrill of his fingers trailing lightly along the back of your neck, you feel yourself sinking deeper into sleep. The warmth of his body and the soothing cadence of his voice are a powerful combination. It isn’t long before your breathing deepens, and the words he’s saying start to blur together, becoming a gentle hum in the background. You begin to drift in and out of consciousness, catching only fragments of his story.

"...she was a special girl with an even more special heart..."

You slowly blink and try to listen to his words, but it's a struggle to keep your eyes open and your mind alert.

"...she had a heart so bright and powerful that it could save the prince's entire kingdom..."

Your eyelids are heavy and the pull of sleep is becoming impossible to resist. His words are soothing even though you are no longer listening. All of your remaining focus is devoted to the feel of his hand sliding down your side and the warmth of his chest against your cheek.

"...and the prince didn't know what to do..."

The feel of him so close to you, his smell, his voice, the sound of his heart beating - it's a lullaby that lulls you to sleep.

"...No matter how many times it took, no matter where she went...he'd find her."

#lads fanfic #lads x reader #lads xavier #love and deepspace #lnds #fanfic

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ghostxrose · 2 months ago

Text

𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒆 | 𝑨𝒊𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒂 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Part One | Part Two

Summary ~ You have been doing this job for a very long time. Maybe since the dawn of time, but who knows? In all of that time, you never had a doubt or question about the way things were. That is, until now.. because you’re pretty sure that Protectors aren’t supposed to fall in love with those that they’re protecting.

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Guardian Angel!Reader, canon typical violence, character injury, angst, hurt, comfort, fluff, medium-slow burn because Shota is bad at feelings, more tags to come as the story develops..

Note ~ Hey, Lovelies! This is something that I've been working on for awhile, and am excited to share with you all! The idea was actually derived from a concept I had for an Original Story that I had started writing a long time ago! There's just something about characters falling in love with ethereal beings and vice versa that I love so much, lol! Anyway, enough of my rambles, enjoy the read, My Lovelies!

Your kind has many names amongst the humans; Protector, Keeper, Champion, Lifesaver, Watcher, Divine Messenger, Guardian Angel, Guardian Spirit, and so on. In the many millennia you’ve existed, you’ve never had a preferred title, just settled on the most accurate term; Protector. Label or not, you simply exist and you have one job. Something that you instinctively and unconsciously perform, no matter who you’re paired with. Your only job is to steer someone away from life-threatening danger. However, it is up to the person to either acknowledge your signs or ignore them.

You’ve never questioned why you exist, why you’ve been given your role, or who was in charge of all of this. You don’t even remember how you came to exist if you were being honest. But from time to time, you do think about some peculiarities you’ve encountered over the thousands of years you’ve been doing this. One of the peculiarities you find to be more.. odd, for lack of a better word, is that of the billions of souls swimming around out there in the universe you’ve experienced repeated pairings with one of them. Though, once again, you don’t ask questions, you just do your job.

Over the last 500 years, you’ve watched over just under a hundred different souls, and that number has only been so low because you keep getting paired with one soul in particular. He’s had a different name each lifetime that he’s lived through, and his appearance changes with each new life. But you can always recognize his soul; the colors of it, the shape of it, the feelings ebbing from it, and.. the way it pulls at yours unlike any other soul has. In this new life, he has dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin, and goes by the name Shota Aizawa.

The world that he has been born into this time intrigues you. It seems as though most humans, including Shota, are born with powers of all kinds. It fascinates and challenges you in the sense that these “Quirk-powered” humans will make your job of protecting Shota a bit harder. But despite being paired with his soul again and the impending challenge, you silently vow to do your job as best you can. Shota certainly doesn’t make things easier for you when he decides to attend a high school that helps the youth to become Heroes. You stay by his side, though, unseen to the human eye as you watch him work to become a Hero.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

Let it be said that while your sole purpose is to protect those you’re paired with doesn’t mean that you are some unfeeling being. Countless times have you wished so desperately that you could provide comfort to the humans you protect. Moments when they’re overwhelmed, devastated, or grief-stricken, and all you can do is watch them break apart emotionally. Sometimes, most times, it feels like their pain is your pain. Unfortunately, now is one of those times…

You’re standing beside Shota as he looks down at a pile of rubble that has crushed one of his friends. He’s clutching his bleeding arm with a devastated and traumatized look on his face. As if by reflex, you reach out to put a hand on his shoulder, but your hand phases right through him. You whisper an apology to him even though he can’t hear it, and look at the being across from you. The ethereal glow of their body flickers and dims sporadically as they gaze down at the rubble. It’s hard for you to see the look of deep sadness and guilt on a fellow Protector’s face, especially one you’ve come to know fairly well. They look up at you and the disappointment they feel in themselves is practically palpable.

“You did well… His will to save those children just happened to be stronger than his will to pay attention to your signs… You did all that you could…” You say to them in reassurance, the ethereal echo of your voice holding a certainty to it.

“Thank you…” They say before vanishing into thin air, likely pulled to the next soul they’ll be protecting.

You look back to Shota and wish that he didn’t have to experience such pain so early on in his life. A heavy feeling weighs over you as you follow him to the ambulance that he’s being led to by paramedics. You give silent nods of acknowledgment to other Protectors when you cross their paths. You try your best to offer reassurance to dejected-looking Protectors whenever you notice them lingering. When the day is over, and Shota is curled up on a bed trying to deal with his emotions, you almost dread what the future may hold for this lifetime.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

Years pass by, and you watch Shota shape into an amazing Hero and person. You feel some relief when Shota accepts a teaching position at the same school he graduated from. You hope that maybe he would mostly stay out of trouble being a teacher versus being a Hero full-time. It wouldn’t be a lie to say that this lifetime has been really making you put in the work toward keeping Shota safe.

School year after school year, you watch Shota intimidate his students and make drastic decisions geared toward helping them realize the path they’ve chosen to pursue. It can be said that his methods are harsh, but you know that he is just trying to help them understand the realities of becoming a Hero. Oftentimes, you think back to the day he lost his friend, and it feels as though you are the only one to see his reasoning.

The day you walk into the classroom for Class 1-A behind Shota, you are interested in what he has planned for this new group of students. The year prior he expelled his entire class, which had even thrown you off a bit. As he gives his introduction, you scan the small sea of students and their Protectors. Most of the Protectors appear neutral, almost laid back for the moment, but a few catch your attention.

The Protector standing near a boy with a scar on his face seems to be wilted, their helplessness almost making their ethereal glow dim to nothing. The Protector to the left of a boy with green hair appears to be harshly glaring at the blonde boy in front of the green-haired child. Meanwhile, the spiky-haired blonde boy’s Protector seems to be exhausted, and from the aura the boy gives off, you wonder if the exhaustion is from protecting him or just observing him. Lastly, the Protector standing near the blonde boy seated closest to the door is rather.. shifty, like they’re nervous. Their gaze keeps darting around the room to look at the other Protectors, then back down to the boy they are paired with.

You understand that as children, none of the students really pose any threat to Shota, but you find that it’s still best to be on higher alert if a human’s Protector is acting strangely. Especially in this lifetime and with all of the many Quirks you’ve seen from being by Shota’s side. You’d much rather err on the side of caution than ignore a potential threat.

By the end of the first day, you’re quite surprised that Shota only expelled one student this year. The short boy seemed quite upset when he learned of his expulsion, but his Protector seemed to have slumped with relief. It made you wonder just what that Protector had observed of the boy throughout his life. Regardless, seeing the posture of the Protectors near each of the female students ease at the news of the boy’s expulsion was enough for you to agree with Shota’s decision.

The second day doesn’t go as smoothly as you or Shota had hoped. Shota wasn’t in any danger, thankfully, he just slept peacefully in the teacher’s lounge while a Hero called All Might took over the class. When Shota was awoken by his phone ringing, it was Recovery Girl informing him that one of his students was very injured during the battle training All Might was supervising. You could practically feel Shota’s worry and anger as you followed behind him as he made his way to the infirmary.

After watching Shota give All Might a stern talking-to for letting the students go that far during training, you followed him back to his classroom. You listened idly by as he announced that he would be taking the class on a trip to a facility called the USJ in a couple of days. Most of the students cheered and voiced their excitement over going on a field trip, but Shota was quick to quiet them. He made it clear to the class that it wasn’t going to be a leisurely trip, but another means of Hero training. With most of the class deflated down into more of a serious state, he dismissed them for the day.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

The day of the trip arrives without much fanfare, and you stay dutifully by Shota’s side as he leans back against the seat of the bus and naps. Vehicles such as buses were always an interesting environment to be in as a Protector. Looking over your shoulder at the rows of seated students, you see each of their Protectors lining the middle aisle. While your kind doesn’t really exist on the same plane of existence as humans, your ethereal bodies are comparable to what humans call ghosts, you still prefer not to be phasing in and out of a human body.

As the bus slows to a stop, Shota awakens and stands to face the class. He tells them to be on their best behavior and to focus on learning all that they can today. You make your way off of the bus with Shota leading the way and his students following behind. You and Shota walk up to the doors of the USJ, joining up with another Hero dressed in a spacesuit.

The spacesuit Hero, Thirteen, cheerfully greets the students and then begins explaining the purpose of the USJ. They get serious while explaining that there are a lot of dangerous Quirks out in the world that have the potential to be deadly before showing and explaining their own Quirk. Your gaze sweeps over the students, and you find that most of their Protectors are absentmindedly nodding and checking to see if their humans understand the warning being given.

Soon enough, Thirteen pushes the doors to the USJ open, leading Shota and his students into the facility. The students audibly marvel at the inside of the USJ and its different disaster zones. Thirteen gets into explaining what the different zones are and the unique difficulties that come with each zone. When they finish, they look to Shota and he nods at them before beginning to tell the students who would be in which zone. Shota gets interrupted by a red-haired student, their Protector pointing to something behind you and Shota. When you turn around to see what the Protector is pointing at, your intuition and protective instincts flare to max levels.

A massive portal has opened up down in the center plaza of the USJ and sketchy-looking humans have begun pouring out. You hear Shota identify them as villains and you gear yourself up for the fighting he will inevitably engage in. As expected, Shota yells for the students to stay with Thirteen and rushes into battle. You follow closely behind him, confident in his fighting abilities and quick reflexes.. But, you know that even if he isn’t aware of your existence or the parameters of your job, he does rely on you to watch his back.

Being a Hero’s Protector is no easy feat since villains have their own Protectors. Your kind have a job to do, no matter the human you are paired with. A villain’s Protector will protect them just as fiercely as a Hero’s. That said, since being Shota’s Protector in this lifetime, you’ve worked harder to become faster at alerting Shota to danger. More often than not, you can get Shota’s attention and help him to strike before a villain’s Protector can warn them.

As Shota is taking down villain after villain, you take a brief moment to look toward three unmoving villains. The one with multiple severed hands clutching his body scratches at his neck wildly as his Protector stands near him. You notice something strange about the other two near the Hand Villain, though.. While they both seem to be alive, neither of them has a Protector within sight. It’s unusual for your kind to stray very far from the human they are paired with, so not seeing a Protector right next to either villain is very abnormal.

In your momentary distraction, Shota takes down two more thugs and is rushed by the Hand Villain. Disappointment, in yourself, floods you as you watch Shota blink and his Quirk deactivate. The Hand Villain monologues as the spot where his hand is on Shota’s elbow begins to crack and flake away until the muscle underneath is showing. Shota reactivates his Quirk and breaks away from the Hand Villain, but his groans of pain echo in your mind. Berating yourself for being so careless, you stick closer to his side as more low-level thugs surround him.

The Hand Villain continues his annoying chatter as Shota, tired and worn out as he is, fights off the thugs using his good arm. His elbow looks bad, and you feel like you’ve failed him. You work harder to give him every sign and warning possible to take down the thugs relentlessly rushing him. Difficult as it is with one arm, Shota succeeds and turns to face the Hand Villain, putting you both back to back. Horror fills you along with the urgent and intense need to warn Shota, but with the state he’s in, he misses sign after sign that you send his way. He doesn’t notice the hulking beast behind him until the Hand Villain says something.

Despair like nothing you’ve ever felt before fills you as you watch the monstrous creature beat Shota down like he’s nothing but a small bug under someone’s boot. You scream, but the echoing ethereal sound only catches the attention of other Protectors around you. You flinch every time you hear the snapping of bone and cry of pain. The ethereal glow of your body dims from the feeling of failure filling you, and when the merciless creature slams Shota’s face into the ground you think only one thought…

‘Shota is going to die today…’

Falling to your knees next to Shota, you’re gaze is too focused on the growing puddle of blood on the ground to realize that the monster leaves Shota to defend the Hand Villain. Apologies spill from your lips over and over again as you continue looking at his limp and broken form. You can feel that he is dying and for some reason, it causes you immense pain. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before with any other soul, or during any of his other lifetimes. Everything else going on near or around you becomes irrelevant as you place a hand on Shota’s head, your touch light enough to not phase through him.

You startle when you feel the touch of a hand on each of your shoulders and looking up, you find a Protector on either side of you. You also notice that three of Shota’s students, the green-haired boy, the girl with the frog Quirk, and the boy with the tape Quirk, are carefully lifting him. The three students’ Protectors help you up off of your knees and walk with you when the students start moving toward the entrance of the USJ.

“Fret not, he may still have a chance…”

“You did all that you could…”

“His will was to protect those students, and you helped him achieve that…”

The echoing ethereal tones of the three Protectors walking with you fill your ears, but you find it difficult to take comfort in their words. Words that you’ve said to so many others before. Words that you’ve found comfort within before when you were feeling far less pain than you are right now. You can’t find it in yourself to respond to the other Protectors, so you just continue to walk in solemn silence.

At some point, the green-haired boy and his Protector break away to head back to the fight, leaving the other two students to carry Shota to the entrance. When they finally get up the steps and rejoin the small group of other students, they carefully lay Shota’s body down next to Thirteen who also seems to be injured greatly. You gaze down at Shota numbly, unable to comprehend why you feel so.. broken.

“What the hell is going on..?”

You startle as a sudden presence from beside you speaks. Recognizing the voice, your head whips to the side in complete shock. Standing there right next to you is Shota, looking far more translucent than he usually does. You just stare at him in shock and disbelief, your mouth agape and eyes blinking owlishly.

“Who the hell are you? Is this some kind of Quirk? Are you one of the villains?” Shota asks, his tone is demanding and quite confused, not that you blame him.

“Y-you.. you can see me?…” You ask, disbelief and confusion coloring your ethereal voice. Now, at this moment, in this lifetime, you have so many questions as you also wonder what the hell is going on.

“Uhm.. yeah. I can see you.” Shota says with uncharacteristic uncertainty. Apparently deeming you non-threatening, his posture deflates into resignation as his gaze sweeps across his students, “So.. are you here to take me wherever it is dead people go?”

Sadness creeps back into you and you look back down at his broken body, shaking your head, “No, I.. I only protect… Escorting the dead is not part of the job…”

“Protect?” Shota questions quietly as he looks back at you. “What, like a.. Guardian Angel?” The skeptical tone in Shota’s voice makes the corners of your mouth tick up ever so slightly because even though he is quite literally dying, of course, he is trying to be rational right now.

You meet his eyes with a slightly amused look in yours, “You humans have many names for my kind, ‘Guardian Angel’ is one of them… Many are like me; uncaring of what we are called, just here to do our job…”

Shota still looks skeptical, but he nods his head, “Does this normally happen when a person dies? We get to meet our.. Guardian Angels before we move onto whatever afterlife is out there?”

You shake your head and look back down at his body, “This has never happened to me before… We are not meant to be seen by humans, dead or alive.. and technically, you are not dead… Your body is struggling, but you are still alive…”

You pause for a moment as the weight of your failure falls back over your shoulders, almost tenfold. You speak again before Shota has the chance, your tone heavy with sadness, “I am so sorry, Shota… I should have done more to keep you safe… It is my fault that you are in this position… I failed you…”

Silence hangs between you both as you watch paramedics move Shota’s body onto a stretcher. They spend a few moments wrapping his injuries with makeshift bandages and attaching various equipment to him. When they begin moving him to an ambulance, you step forward to follow but are stopped when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. It’s different than the cold feeling of another Protector’s touch and stops you in your tracks. You turn slightly, your wide eyes meeting Shota’s uncharacteristically soft ones.

“You.. I’d like to think that you did your best to protect me, and whatever happens to me.. just know that I don’t blame you.” Shota’s gentle tone catches you off guard and also strikes something deep within you. The most you can muster is a shaky nod before you both begin to head for the ambulance his body was taken to.

Divider Credit ~ @cafekitsune

#shouta aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa shōta #eraserhead #shouta aizawa x you #bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa brain rot #eraserhead x reader #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #guardian angel #my hero academia #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction

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rainforestakiie · 15 days ago

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AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Nipple Play~

this is an au i wanted to write for sometime. i was going to use horns and tails, but i have another idea for that! i am a bit tired, so sorry it's a bit shorter then it should be. anyway, hope you all like it!

@adamsappleweek

Lucifer reclined in his seat, his gaze flicking through the case file with a predatory gleam, every detail scrutinized under the rhythmic, irritated tap of his nails against the battered diner table. Across from him sat Adam, his posture practically vibrating with anticipation, his eyes alive with a curious, innocent excitement that Lucifer found maddeningly sweet.

"Centralia, Pennsylvania," Lucifer drawled, his voice rich and laced with amusement as he read aloud. "Abandoned town, evacuated after a coal fire ignited underground in '62. Desolate. Thick with smoke. Dolls littered around like lost souls."

He closed the file with a practiced flick of his wrist and gave a dismissive scoff. "Sounds like the plot of a low-budget horror flick."

Adam's face fell, but his grin held on, stubbornly. "Come on, Luci. You’ve got to admit—it’s chilling. A ghost town with fire still smouldering beneath it, creepy dolls just lying around... even you have to find that intriguing."

Lucifer sighed, his cheek sinking into his palm as he looked out the diner’s fogged window. Outside, shadows curled in the mist, rippling as if they were alive, as the dim light flickered erratically, casting his face in a haunting, spectral glow.

"Tell me again," he said, a hint of reproach in his tone, "Why you didn’t bother mentioning this before we boarded the plane?"

Adam let out a soft laugh, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Because if I had told you, you wouldn’t have come. And," he hesitated, a flicker of something almost wistful in his eyes, "I thought you might… enjoy it. Centralia has this heavy silence, like it’s waiting to share some dark secret with you. And who knows? You might feel that sense of… wrongness."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his scepticism cutting through Adam’s words. "If this turns out to be anything like that ‘haunted swamp’ in Louisiana, I’m docking your allowance, Adam," he muttered, voice laced with dry amusement.

Adam merely shrugged, waving a dismissive hand. "This is different. Centralia’s scarred in a way you can feel just walking through. Secrets seep into every crack, and it’s not just dolls either. Locals swear sometimes they catch glimpses of… people. Shadows in the fog that vanish as soon as you notice them."

Despite himself, Lucifer felt a twinge of something deep and dark twist in his chest, an emotion both strange and hauntingly familiar. He tried to ignore it, forcing his gaze to Adam's face, only to find himself distracted by the softness of Adam’s smile, the gentle warmth that had somehow worked its way through his defenses.

“Sure,” he said, feigning boredom. “Probably just kids trying to spook tourists like us.” But his words held no weight, and he knew it. Something about Centralia felt… ominous. And for reasons he couldn’t name, that hint of danger intrigued him more than he wanted to admit.

They sat in silence, the air between them heavy and unspoken. The ancient jukebox in the corner crackled to life, crooning a love song that seemed to drift in from another time, filling the diner with a haunted melody that clung to the walls. Lucifer looked down into his coffee, tracing small circles in the dark liquid, feeling its warmth bleed through his fingertips as his heart thrummed with a strange, quiet thrill he couldn't ignore.

And then, Adam’s hand was on his, light and familiar. The warmth of it pulled Lucifer out of his thoughts, grounding him in the smoky chill of Centralia. Adam’s fingers brushed his ever so gently, almost teasingly, before resting there as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Come on, Lucifer,” Adam murmured, his voice soft, coaxing, the kind of earnestness that made Lucifer’s heart falter despite his best intentions.

Lucifer glanced down at their joined hands, his pulse quickening, and for a moment, he felt his mouth curve in a small, unwilling smile. He pulled his hand away, fingers grazing the warmth of his coffee cup instead.

“Fine,” he sighed, feigning exasperation but failing to mask the hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

Adam’s gaze lingered on him, warm and searching, but if he sensed any more than that, he kept it to himself.

"But I’m holding you personally responsible for every creepy doll, every unexplained shadow, and every sleepless night in this godforsaken town." Lucifer leaned forward, his gaze intense, a glint of challenge dancing in his eyes.

Outside, fog twisted against the diner windows, mist curling around like fingers reaching for the warmth inside. Lucifer glanced toward the glass, feeling the weight of something—or someone—watching them from the shadows. His heart skipped a beat, but as quickly as the sensation came, it faded, leaving him uncertain whether he’d really seen anything at all.

With a sigh, Lucifer stretched, allowing his arms to linger as he yawned, watching Adam with hooded eyes. Adam was beaming at him, eyes bright with excitement. Lucifer smirked, appreciating how Adam’s grin only grew the closer they got to danger.

“Fine. At dawn, we’ll head out to that miserable little town you’re so thrilled about,” he muttered with an air of reluctant resignation.

“But for now, I’m going to unwind in my room before I start regretting letting you talk me into this mess.” He let the word “room” hang in the air, subtly hinting with a playful flicker in his gaze.

Adam just grinned, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. “Good call! We need rest if we’re gonna explore the whole town tomorrow.”

He completely missed Lucifer’s intent, oblivious to the invitation hanging between them. Lucifer watched as Adam scribbled down the room keys he’d booked—two rooms.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed slightly, though a hint of a smile crept onto his lips despite himself.

“Two rooms, huh?” he murmured, his voice silkier than usual, but Adam was already absorbed in his plans, oblivious.

“Yup! I figured we’d each want our space, you know? Gives us room to process… all that haunted energy we’ll be dealing with!” Adam said, as serious as ever.

Without another word, Lucifer slid out of the booth, leaving the bill as a silent payback for this misguided little excursion. Adam, grinning as always, waved it off and hurried out into the fog, disappearing with a last, excited glance back.

Once alone, Adam’s gaze softened as he took in the diner’s strange, nostalgic quiet. Fluorescent pink and teal lights buzzed overhead, casting a ghostly glow across faded linoleum floors. Old photographs were plastered across the walls—grinning locals, waitresses balancing trays, children with melting ice cream cones. All relics of a different time. They seemed to watch him from within the frames, each face holding secrets he could almost feel crawling up his spine.

Eventually, Adam sighed, paid the bill, and stepped out into the thickening fog. The mist had grown dense, a smothering blanket that softened the distant streetlights. In the direction of Centralia, it hung in the air, pulsing like a living thing. Adam squinted into the fog, a strange unease settling in his chest.

“Not from around here, are you?” a voice rasped suddenly, slicing through the night.

Adam turned to see a tall figure leaning against the diner wall, a cigarette burning between their fingers. The man’s face was obscured under the shadow of a battered cap, only the faint glow of his cigarette illuminating his sharp, unreadable gaze. He watched Adam with an intensity that was almost unnerving, exhaling smoke that curled into the fog like an omen.

“Just passing through,” Adam replied smoothly, his voice as even as his expression.

The stranger gave a low chuckle, eyeing him with an unsettling familiarity. “Be careful in Centralia, friend. Not everything that burns there shows itself by daylight.”

“Uh, we’re just...just... visiting,” Adam replied, trying to shake off the tension crawling up his spine.

The stranger chuckled softly, the sound low and humourless. “Interesting choice of places to visit. Most folks steer clear of that town. Bad luck sticks to it like tar.”

Adam forced a polite smile. “Well, we’re hee to film an episode. Centralia’s kind of... infamous, right? Stories practically make themselves thee.”

The stranger’s eyes flickered in the dim light, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette, blowing out the smoke with deliberate slowness, his gaze fixed somewhere over Adam’s shoulder, toward the foggy stretch of road.

“What’s so bad about it?” Adam pressed, trying to break the silence. “I mean, I get the fire and all, but... it’s been decades. Surely there’s not much left.”

The man’s expression didn’t change, but something dark and amused glinted in his eyes.

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” He shrugged, his voice soft and dismissive, almost like he was talking to himself. “Guess some things just... hang around. Like they got nowhere else to go.”

Adam furrowed his brow, frustration prickling at him. “What do you mean? Like ghosts?”

The stranger tilted his head, a sly grin curling his lips as he let out a dry chuckle. “Ghosts? Yeah, if that’s what you wanna call them. Spirits, shadows... memories that don’t know when to die.”

Adam’s skin prickled, but he forced out a nervous laugh.

“Well, I’ve heard worse. Doesn’t scare me off.” He jutted his chin defiantly, hoping to keep the unease from his voice. “We’re heading out first thing. Nothing wrong with a little thrill, right?”

The stranger’s smile faded, replaced by a look that was almost pitying. “It’s your funeral, then.”

He took one last drag on his cigarette, the ember casting a brief, red glow across his face, which seemed gaunt, almost hollow.

Adam tried to keep his cool, brushing off the odd sensation creeping up his spine. “Any advice, then?”

The man’s eyes glinted, his lips curling into a shadow of a smile as he flicked the cigarette stub into the mist.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Be careful.”

Before Adam could respond, the stranger turned and walked into the fog, his footsteps soft and swift.

“Hey, wait—what do you mean?” Adam called out, but the stranger didn’t answer, his silhouette swallowed up by the mist. The silence settled back in, deeper and colder than before.

Adam stood alone in the dark, the fog curling around him like silent fingers.

“Okay, weirdo,” Adam muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turned away from the diner, casting one last glance in the direction the stranger had gone. The fog swallowed up the spot whee he’d stood, like the man had melted back into it.

Adam shook his head and made his way down the cracked sidewalk toward the motel. The town around him seemed quiet—too quiet. Only one or two stores had lights on, and even those looked like they hadn’t seen many customers in years. Rusted signs creaked in the slight breeze, and every now and then, a hollow thud echoed down the empty street as the wind nudged a loose shutter. Thee was no nightlife, no buzz of activity, only the occasional stray cat darting out of sight as he passed by. This place felt like it was holding its breath, like an echo of a town that had long since faded.

When he reached the motel, its neon “Vacancy” sign sputtered, casting a flickering red glow across the parking lot. It was eerily empty, with only his and Lucifer’s rental car parked out front. The rest of the spaces stretched out in neat, abandoned rows. He fihed his key from his pocket and unlocked his room, stepping inside.

The room was dim, with an old, faded carpet that might once have been red, now a muted rust. A musty smell clung to the furniture, and the walls were a sickly, wahed-out yellow. Adam tossed his bag onto the bed, letting out a breath as he glanced around, feeling that slight tickle of unease creeping back. He tried to shake it off and pulled out his notes instead, spreading them across the small desk in the corner.

Adam shook his head, trailing down the cracked sidewalk toward the motel, feeling an odd sense of regret tugging at him. Maybe he should have convinced Lucifer to share a room—at least he wouldn’t be alone in the eerie quiet that wrapped around this town like a shroud. As he walked, his footsteps echoed on the pavement, each one sounding unnervingly loud in the stillness. There were no passing cars, no distant hum of voices, only the occasional whisper of wind that seemed to sigh between abandoned buildings.

The storefronts he passed were dark, but one or two were lit with faint, flickering lights that looked as though they hadn’t been turned off in years. Rusted signs creaked lazily in the breeze, and every so often, a dull thud echoed down the empty street as a loose shutter banged against a window. There was no nightlife, no sign of people—only a few stray cats that darted into the shadows as he passed, their eyes gleaming momentarily in the lamplight before they vanished. This place felt hollow, like the shell of a town, a hushed echo that lingered after everyone else had moved on.

The motel came into view, its neon “Vacancy” sign sputtering and casting an uneasy red glow across the parking lot. The only cars there were his and Lucifer’s rental, parked in silence like forgotten relics in the desolate lot. Adam fished his key from his pocket, glancing over at Lucifer’s door just a few steps away. His hand hovered, almost reaching to knock—but he hesitated, feeling a prick of embarrassment he couldn’t quite explain.

Instead, he unlocked his door and slipped inside, shoving away the nagging feeling that being alone might not have been the best idea. The room was dim, bathed in the weak, yellow glow of a single lamp. The carpet was faded and thin, with spots that looked suspiciously like stains, its original red color long since dulled to a rusty brown. The air was stale, carrying the faint smell of dust and something metallic, something that lingered in the corners like it had been there for ages, waiting.

Adam tossed his bag on the bed, exhaling as he tried to shrug off the tension coiling in his chest. He pulled out his notes, spreading them across the small desk in the corner, hoping that diving into research would distract him. His fingers skimmed over the pages, picking up on the names and dates he’d scrawled, notes about Centralia’s strange stories and elusive myths. The more he read, the more he felt a creeping discomfort, a sense that the puzzle pieces he’d collected didn’t quite fit, like he was brushing up against something he wasn’t meant to uncover.

He lingered on one passage detailing the town’s missing people, people who had supposedly disappeared in the years following the fire. Yet when he’d tried to find reports, there was next to nothing. Police records were scant, newspapers barely mentioned any names. It was like these people had simply… vanished, swallowed by the town itself. The locals he’d spoken to had hinted at the strange quiet that followed the fire, how authorities had sealed off the area for years. And when they reopened it, the case files, the investigations—all of it had been dropped without explanation, like they had never existed.

Shuffling to another page, his gaze snagged on the words “police tape” and “five years” scrawled in his own hurried handwriting. Whatever had happened here was buried deep, hidden beneath layers of silence and secrecy. Government records, local history—nothing mentioned Centralia, and yet the town persisted, clinging stubbornly to life, the last whispers of a place the world had tried to forget.

But it was the stories of the dolls that lingered in his mind, chilling him in a way that felt far too close to fear. Supposedly, no one knew where they came from, or why. Dolls had just begun appearing all over town, scattered in alleyways, slumped on porches, wedged in trees like abandoned memories. Some were broken and dirty, their faces smudged and cracked; others looked freshly made, pristine and new. Locals claimed that sometimes, in the night, the dolls seemed to move, like something unseen was shifting them from one place to another. People said they were markers, warnings—or worse, remnants of the spirits that wandered these desolate streets.

A shiver prickled up Adam’s spine. He tried to laugh it off, to brush away the thoughts of glassy-eyed dolls watching his every move. But the stories lingered, each one weaving a sense of dread that crept into his bones. He could almost feel their vacant eyes on him, could almost hear the whisper of something brushing past his door.

A final note, hastily scribbled, caught his eye: Be careful. It was the stranger’s warning, the low voice that had whispered to him outside the diner. Adam scoffed, attempting to shrug off the heaviness settling in his chest. Lucifer would probably tease him for it, brush it off with a smirk and some sarcastic remark. But the words hung in his mind, echoing through the room with an ominous weight. This town felt like a trap, a place waiting to ensnare anyone foolish enough to step inside.

He glanced at the clock, noting how little time remained until dawn. Outside, the fog thickened, pressing against the window, swirling and shifting as though it were alive. He found himself staring at it, at the dense haze that seemed to swallow everything beyond the glass.

Finally, he closed his notebook, a chill tightening in his stomach as his gaze drifted back to Lucifer’s door through the wall. He wondered, not for the first time, if maybe he’d made a mistake staying alone.

Adam was barely conscious when a relentless, echoing pounding rattled his motel room door, jarring him awake. He groaned, rolling over and pressing his face into the thin motel pillow, clinging to the hope that maybe this was some half-formed nightmare.

“Get up, sunshine!” Lucifer’s voice cut through the door like a razor. “We’ve got work to do, and I’m not waiting all morning!”

Dragging himself from bed, Adam forced his eyes open, stumbling toward the door and barely managing to pull it open after a few failed tries. Lucifer leaned against the frame, arms crossed, looking far too awake—and suspiciously amused.

"Why are you even up? It’s not even light out," he mumbled, fighting a yawn as he squinted at Lucifer.

Lucifer gave a dramatic sigh and then reached out, slapping Adam’s shoulder with a smirk.

“That’s the price of fame, kid. Besides, can’t waste a perfect, misty morning.” He paused, tilting his head. “Or did you need a bit more sleep, hmm?”

Adam scratched his head, his grogginess fogging any awareness of the lilt in Lucifer's voice. “You seem... unusually chipper.”

Lucifer chuckled. “No point crying over spilled blood, right? We're here, so we might as well make a killer episode.”

He turned, calling back over his shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Now hurry up! Don’t keep me waiting.”

Adam sighed and closed the door, shaking his head. Lucifer was like caffeine at double strength—enough to make him jittery. Rubbing his eyes, he shuffled around the room, grabbing his things. Outside, the cold motel walls couldn’t hold back the chill that seeped in, making his skin prickle.

When he stepped outside, the world was blanketed in fog so thick it pressed down, muffling everything, swirling around the empty parking lot in sluggish, ghostly waves. He pulled his hoodie tighter, moving toward where Lucifer stood by the car, his breath visible in the frost-laced dawn.

Lucifer arched a brow, his lips quirking. “You ready for the hike of a lifetime?”

Adam winced. “Honestly? Not really.”

Lucifer chuckled, a glint in his eyes that sent a shiver up Adam’s spine. “Too bad. And if you’d done your research right, maybe you’d have noticed that the roads are... let’s say, out of order.”

Adam frowned, trying to make sense of his words. “What? What do you mean, out of order?”

Lucifer shrugged, running a gloved hand through his tousled hair, as if savouring the chance to reveal something unsettling. “All the roads leading that way are cracked open, like something... crawled out of the ground. There’s no way we’re getting a car over that mess. Guess that leaves our feet.”

Adam stared at him, his unease deepening. “But… I didn’t find anything about destroyed roads. How does a whole town end up sealed off?”

Lucifer’s grin widened, his eyes glittering with a wicked excitement. “That’s why we’re here, genius. To find out what’s really hiding in this lovely little death trap.”

He shot Adam a challenging look, lingering a beat too long before turning toward the fog-shrouded path. “So, are you coming, or are you just going to stand there daydreaming about me?”

Adam jolted, warmth creeping into his cheeks. He muttered an awkward laugh, hurrying to catch up. “I wasn’t—I’m not daydreaming. Just... thinking.”

The forest closed in around them as they trudged into the thickening mist, the silence so dense it felt like it absorbed their footsteps. Branches curved overhead, twisted and blackened, forming strange shapes that cast warped shadows onto the ground. Adam’s nerves prickled as he took in the sights, the trees like dark sentinels guarding the way forward.

Hours slipped by, fatigue weighing their steps, until finally they reached a small clearing where a stretch of broken road appeared, half-lost in the mist. Just as Lucifer had described, the pavement looked like it had been torn open by some force from below. Blackened asphalt lay in jagged pieces, with cracks snaking along its length like the veins of something diseased.

Lucifer crouched beside the broken road, tracing a gloved finger along one of the deep fissures.

“Get the camera rolling, Adam,” he said, his voice hushed, as though even he felt the weight of whatever had scarred this place.

Adam nodded, pulling his bulky camera out and resting it on his shoulder, focusing the lens on Lucifer, who was now scrutinizing the road with an unsettling intensity. As he filmed, Adam felt the stillness press in, his pulse thrumming beneath the eerie quiet. In the distance, the fog moved like fingers stretching across the earth, curling around trees and rocks, thickening as though something lay hidden within its depths, just waiting for them to get closer.

Lucifer glanced up, catching Adam’s eye with a slow, unsettling smile.

“You nervous, Adam?” His voice held a teasing edge, but his gaze lingered, a flicker of something unspoken dancing in his expression.

Adam swallowed, gripping the camera tighter. “Uh, no... I’m just... focused.”

He felt a strange warmth under Lucifer’s gaze, but brushed it off, chalking it up to the unnerving vibe of the place.

Lucifer’s chuckle was low, almost conspiratorial. “Good. Wouldn’t want you running off before we get to the really creepy part.”

Adam forced a smile, feeling a bit off-kilter, as though he was being led somewhere he couldn’t see.

“Here we are,” Lucifer began, his voice slipping into the low, haunting tone he saved for only the creepiest of shoots.

“The first stretch of road leading into our ‘special’ town. And it looks like something clawed its way right through it.” He knelt, fingers tracing the jagged cracks that split the asphalt wide open, dipping into the fissure like he was teasing something slumbering beneath.

“It’s as if the earth itself wanted to swallow this place whole,” he murmured, almost to himself. His fingers lingered along the blackened, crumbling edge of the road, drifting with a strange grace. Then, with a slow, taunting glance back at Adam, he smirked. “Every road leading into Centralia looks like this. Fractured, twisted… like it was burned from the inside out. No earthquakes, no natural disaster on record can explain it.”

Adam shut off the camera, sliding it back into its case. “So, what do you think actually caused this? I mean, logically.”

Lucifer shrugged, lips curling into a faint, almost knowing smile. “A fault line, maybe? Or some underground activity we’re not privy to? But let’s be real—an earthquake wouldn’t turn the ground black as tar, would it?”

Adam shook his head. “No… that’s just it. It’s like the ground’s been scorched.”

They walked further down the road, the destruction growing worse with each step. The asphalt disintegrated beneath their feet, parts of it crumbling like old charcoal. He knelt to examine it, and the road material dissolved under his fingertips like ash.

The silence thickened around them, pressing down as the road began to twist, scars widening into gaping chasms. The trees lining their path grew dark, their trunks streaked with a slick, oily residue, and Lucifer reached out, touching one of the trunks. His gloved fingers came away smeared with a thick, inky substance that reeked faintly of smoke and decay.

“What the hell is this?” he muttered, scowling as he wiped the black gunk on his leather jacket. The faintest flicker of disgust crossed his face as he looked at his now-stained hand.

Adam glanced up, uneasy. The trees loomed like skeletal fingers against the dull sky, their branches stripped bare and clawing outward. Somewhere above, two crows circled, their harsh cries slicing through the dense silence. Adam shivered, muttering, “Bad omen.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, though a glimmer of amusement danced there. “Come on, don’t go getting all superstitious on me. There’s no such thing as ghosts, Adam.” His gaze lingered a moment longer. “And if anything creepy does decide to show, I’ll be the one to protect you. Promise.”

Adam chuckled, brushing off the chill that ran down his spine. “Oh yeah, that’s comforting.”

They continued forward, the fog thickening as it curled around them, swallowing the road in shadows. Lucifer took a step ahead, casting a quick, roguish glance over his shoulder. “Try to keep up, won’t you?”

Adam rolled his eyes, stumbling as he caught his foot on a loose chunk of asphalt, narrowly catching himself. “Careful, Lucifer,” he teased, trying to see through the mist. “Can’t have you tripping over your own confidence.”

Just then, Lucifer stumbled, his foot catching on a jagged edge, forcing him forward. He straightened quickly, cheeks coloring faintly as he huffed, brushing off his jacket. “Watch yourself, sunshine,” he shot back, though his smirk softened as he narrowed his eyes playfully at Adam.

The fog grew denser still, heavy and damp, clinging to their skin as the silence settled like a shroud. It felt as if they were pressing deeper into something they weren’t meant to uncover. Finally, a faint shape began to form through the mist—a weathered sign, its letters faded and streaked with grime. Adam pointed, barely able to contain a strange thrill. “Hey—look!”

The sign came into view, its rusted lettering peeling, spelling out the town’s name: Silent Hill.

“We’re close now,” Adam murmured, his voice barely audible as if even he didn’t want to disturb the silence that held the town in its grip.

Lucifer cocked a brow, his smirk widening. “Silent Hill? Sounds like the setup for some god-awful horror movie.” He stepped closer, examining the sign, its chipped green paint looking more like moss than a welcome. “If I see any creepy nurses or monsters with freaky heads, I’m done.”

Adam’s laugh drifted out, his breath visible in the cold. “Silent Hill… yeah, like something straight out of a nightmare.”

Lucifer scoffed, though the smile tugging at his mouth didn’t fade. He stepped back, taking in the battered, eerie sign as if it were a warning rather than a greeting. The letters were unevenly scrawled, as if someone had tried to maintain it against the slow crawl of decay, but years of neglect had turned it into a relic of something best forgotten. It stood like a final boundary, almost hesitant to let them pass.

“Well, lead the way, fearless leader,” Adam murmured, casting him a glance of playful confidence.

Lucifer shook his head, muttering, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, sunshine,” before stepping through the fog-drenched threshold, his smile hiding something darker, something that felt like a dare.

They walked on, each step swallowed by the spongy earth, muffled and ghostly, as if the ground itself wanted to consume the sound. The road wound and twisted like something diseased, cracked wide open and jagged, leading them further into the blackened heart of Silent Hill. Burn marks crawled across the surface in strange, charred patterns, as though scorched by flames that had left no warmth, only a deep, dead cold.

Crossing the town’s threshold, an unnatural chill slipped around them, tendrils of cold tightening like skeletal fingers. The silence grew oppressive, thick as fog, broken only by the rare crackle of unseen leaves and the distant, throaty caws of crows watching from the void above. As the mist shifted, the town’s structures crept into view—rows of decayed buildings slouched on either side, their broken windows dark and hollow, watching with an unsettling, silent patience.

"Alright, Adam. Start recording," Lucifer's voice cut through the silence, his tone lower, sharper, as if the air itself might eavesdrop.

Adam shook off his trance, lifting the camera, adjusting until Lucifer was framed perfectly against the mist-bound ruins behind him. Lucifer's gaze turned forward, his voice slipping into that eerie cadence, something almost too perfect, too practiced, as he let the weight of the town seep into his words.

"Here we are," he began, his voice low and hushed, as if afraid to wake something lurking in the shadows. "Silent Hill. Abandoned, left to rot in its own silence, a town filled with... echoes."

He took a step forward, gesturing toward the broken asphalt and the derelict buildings lining the streets, their faces streaked with age and soot, like scarred, forgotten souls.

“Why was it abandoned? What horrors lie within these walls? The few records that even acknowledge Silent Hill suggest something went terribly wrong here—something everyone wants to forget.”

He motioned to a row of dolls that lined the fog-choked sidewalks, strewn like discarded relics along benches and steps. Each one was twisted, scorched, their faces cracked and vacant, eyes burned black as if watching things no one should see. Lucifer crouched by one, lifting it gingerly by its scorched, brittle arm, and his voice dropped lower, almost reverent.

“These dolls... there are stories about them, tales of how they just… appear. No one knows who placed them, or why. Silent reminders, arranged by unseen hands. Left to watch, or to remember.”

Setting the doll down with care, Lucifer straightened, locking eyes with Adam. Something raw flashed across his face, almost vulnerable before he blinked it away, the ghost of a grin slipping into its place. The camera’s whirr cut off, leaving Adam and Lucifer in thickening silence. Adam lowered the camera, but the unease pressing on his chest only grew heavier, thicker, like the fog itself was alive, tightening its grip around them.

“So... what do you really think happened here?” he asked, his voice barely breaking through the stillness, as if the fog might listen in.

Lucifer tilted his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he scanned the dead street, his gaze drifting over every eerie detail with something almost... hungry.

"Who knows? Could be superstition—or maybe there’s something someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to keep hidden." His eyes glinted, flashing with something sly and unsettling. "But I can tell you this—there’s something wrong here. Like the town itself is... waiting."

Adam felt a shiver crawl up his spine, but he forced it down, eyes following Lucifer’s long strides as he moved deeper into Silent Hill. The fog clung to them, thickening, folding in on itself like it was swallowing them whole. It felt alive, sentient, as if it had memories of its own, unwilling to let them trespass so freely. Silence closed around them, heavy and choking, but finally, Adam spoke again, his voice low and cautious, barely daring to break the hush.

“Did I mention the police had this place locked down for five years straight?”

Lucifer paused, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “No… Why?”

Adam’s voice fell even lower, an almost conspiratorial whisper. “They wouldn’t say. Anyone who tried to access the records was met with the same answer: Silent Hill didn’t exist. The police… they outright denied the town, and those who asked too many questions? They disappeared.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, a genuine spark of intrigue mixing with something darker. His gaze shifted, lingering on the scattered dolls that lined the road, each one dressed in faded clothing from different eras. They were strange, eerie effigies, like something a child might stitch together from memory—only they had faces, darkened, broken. Each one looked like it had been through a hundred fires, sitting in still, quiet torment, watching, waiting, their black eyes searing right through the mist.

“Look at them,” Lucifer muttered, almost to himself, his gaze running over the ragged forms. “Dressed like the townsfolk, aren’t they? Some are modern, some from who knows when…”

He leaned closer to one with a tattered floral dress, its painted eyes glinting with something sinister beneath the grime. “It’s like the town’s leaving us clues, weaving its own twisted history into these… remnants.”

Adam swallowed, his skin prickling with the sensation of unseen eyes tracking their every move. Each doll seemed to stare, their hollow eyes following, dead and endless, as if the secrets of Silent Hill had carved themselves into their wooden faces, as if they knew why the fog was growing thicker, why the silence felt so… predatory.

The fog thickened around them, swallowing the path back, as though Silent Hill itself had decided to keep them here—trapped in the fog’s cold embrace, with nothing but the dolls for company, watching, waiting, as if the town had only just begun to tell its story.

Adam’s gaze clung to the rows of decrepit, darkened buildings, each one slumped and shadowed, lining the street like silent sentinels. They seemed frozen in some agonizing moment, leaning just slightly as if bending beneath the weight of years. Broken windows dotted each structure, some fractured to reveal nothing but blackness within, others smudged with grime and dust. Behind that filthy glass, there was the chilling impression of unseen eyes watching, waiting.

Silent Hill wore an eerie veil of ordinariness, yet everything was touched by an unsettling stillness, a silence that hummed with wrongness. It felt like the ghost of a bustling town had been preserved here, in the middle of an invisible breath, right before disaster struck. The empty shops on the main street seemed ready to come alive at any second, their dust-laden windows showcasing displays of strange, outdated goods—canned food lined up in warped metal, posters faded beyond recognition, mannequins with their faces nearly worn away, leaving only empty sockets and chipped, lifeless smiles. This wasn’t simply abandonment; it felt as if the town was decaying from the inside out, like an old film reel rotting to darkness.

Ahead of them, a solitary hotel loomed, its faded sign hanging on a single rusted chain, swinging slightly in the chill air. The paint had peeled away, showing faded layers of once-vibrant color—blue, red, green—like the ghostly remains of a thousand attempts to keep the place alive. But time had worn it all down. Fog crept around its upper floors, pressing against the windows like an insistent hand, and as they neared, the doors of the hotel seemed to gape, black and empty, like a mouth waiting to consume them.

Lucifer’s gaze moved slowly, flicking from building to building, lingering on the strange dolls that peered from windowsills and shadows. His voice was soft, like an unspoken thought.

“This place is… something else,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Adam nodded, catching Lucifer’s gaze for a moment before glancing away. “It’s like the town’s holding its breath. Waiting for someone to walk back in, like nothing happened. But there’s nothing here. No life.”

They walked on, their footsteps echoing unnaturally loud in the suffocating quiet. Every shop sign, swaying faintly in a non-existent breeze, bore faded names—almost too worn to read. There had once been a bakery, an old-fashioned barbershop, a florist with a mural of roses on its wall, though the once-bright reds and greens had faded into sickly shades of grey and black.

Yet something about the town didn’t seem completely dead. Every so often, an unseen sound would drift through the fog—a clatter, a shuffling echo—like footsteps moving just out of view, or a door creaking on its hinges. But whenever Adam turned, no doors ever visibly shifted. He could have sworn he saw something—a flicker of movement—in one of the upstairs windows of the hotel, just for a moment, like a shadow pulling back a curtain. But when he blinked, it was gone, leaving only the desolate street and the blanket of fog.

A shiver ran down Adam’s spine, thickening with the gnawing sensation that they weren’t alone here. The emptiness of Silent Hill felt deceptive, like it wore its own mask. Some unknown presence seemed to lurk just beyond his line of sight, concealed in the heavy fog, watching them with a deep, quiet hunger.

Lucifer took a slow breath, his exhale curling through the mist like a ghost of warmth. His eyes were fixed on the looming hotel, a glint of something dark and excited flickering in them.

“Come on,” he murmured, almost playful, like he was coaxing Adam closer. “Let’s see what’s inside the hotel. If there’s any place with answers in this town, it’s bound to be that relic.��

Adam swallowed, nodding, his voice caught in his throat as he felt Lucifer’s gaze linger on him a moment too long, like the town wasn’t the only thing here with secrets. He cast a last glance over his shoulder at the dolls scattered along the street, each one tilted just so, their hollow eyes following, as though either warning him—or welcoming him.

As they neared the hotel, the weight of Lucifer’s stare didn’t fade. Adam felt an odd warmth creeping under his skin every time their eyes met but dismissed it as just the strangeness of the place, the unease it stirred in him. Lucifer moved closer, his fingers brushing Adam’s arm lightly.

“You scared, Adam?” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips, his tone just a little too teasing.

“Of course not,” Adam muttered, his voice wavering in spite of himself.

Lucifer’s smirk grew as his fingers lingered a moment longer, a touch almost intimate, almost… possessive, but Adam brushed it off, too rattled to let himself wonder why his pulse quickened at the closeness.

Adam trailed behind Lucifer, eyes wandering the fractured streets and dilapidated buildings cloaked in mist. A chill clawed its way down his spine as he turned his head by chance, catching sight of a side street buried in fog. He squinted into the haze, his breath catching as he made out rows upon rows of doll-like figures scattered down the street—at first as silent and unmoving as the rest. But then, one of the dolls moved. It bolted across the street, limbs jerking, disappearing into the fog. Adam’s gasp cut through the silence, his green eyes widening as he yelled, “Wait!” before tearing off in pursuit.

“Adam?!” Lucifer’s voice, sharp with alarm, echoed behind him.

Adam heard him call again, but didn’t stop, his heart thundering as he plunged deeper into the mist. The fog thickened, blurring the edges of buildings and muting his own footfalls until it felt like he was running through some endless dream. Finally, his breath heaving, Adam stumbled to a halt, hands braced against his knees as he gasped for air.

Moments later, Lucifer skidded to a stop beside him, doubling over with a muttered curse.

“What...in hell’s name...do you think you’re doing?” he panted, casting a furious but relieved look at Adam. His hands fell to his hips as he caught his breath, concern flickering in his gaze. “Damn it, Adam, don’t pull stuff like that.”

Adam shook his head, still trying to steady his breathing.

“I’m sorry. I...I saw someone,” he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucifer blinked, his eyes narrowing. He glanced around at the empty, mist-choked street, his brows knitting in disbelief. “Are you sure it wasn’t another doll?” His voice held a teasing lilt, but his eyes darted over every shadow, scanning the fog as though daring it to reveal itself.

“No,” Adam insisted, shaking his head emphatically. “I’m sure. It wasn’t a doll; they were running, Lucifer. I swear.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened a fraction, his mouth twisting with a bemused smile. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

He folded his arms, sweeping the fog-shrouded street with another hard look. “Alright, let’s assume you did see someone. If they were here, they’re gone now. We’re all alone again.”

Adam groaned, rubbing his temples as the edges of doubt crept in. “But they were right there,” he muttered, casting another glance over his shoulder, half-expecting the figure to reappear in the shadowed doorway of a building.

“Maybe it was a shadow or a trick of the fog,” Lucifer suggested, a strange softness entering his tone as he placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Places like this…they have a way of playing with your mind.”

Adam sighed, his eyes fixed on the deserted street, though he could still feel Lucifer’s hand lingering on his shoulder, warm and oddly reassuring. He glanced down, confused by the strange warmth blooming under his skin. But when he looked up, Lucifer’s expression was calm, even affectionate—a look that made his heart stutter for reasons he couldn’t quite name.

“Alright, alright,” Adam mumbled, brushing off the thoughts as he turned back. But the silence around them felt heavier, as though they were no longer alone. It was as if the entire town was pressing closer, listening, breathing with them.

Lucifer watched him for a moment longer, then tugged gently on his sleeve, his voice soft and coaxing. “Come on, if anyone’s still lingering here, they’ll find their way to the hotel sooner or later. Let’s keep moving.”

Reluctantly, Adam nodded, casting one last look into the swirling fog before following Lucifer back toward the hotel that loomed like a dark monolith in the distance. Its empty windows were like hollow eyes, staring out into the town’s forgotten streets.

They walked side by side, Adam’s green eyes darting nervously between the empty buildings as they neared the towering structure. The dolls seemed to watch from every window, their vacant eyes following the two as if each step brought them closer to something they couldn’t turn back from. Lucifer noticed his tense glances and gave a small, amused snort, jerking his head toward a faint shape emerging in the mist.

“Would you look at that?” he muttered, nodding to a red-roofed building that had been partially obscured behind a row of gnarled, withered trees and crumbling storefronts. “A school. Guess even this town thought it would last forever.”

Adam squinted at the faded schoolhouse, its once-bright paint dulled by grime and fog. The sight unsettled him, a reminder that Silent Hill had once been a town full of life.

“They must have thought they’d be here…forever,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he imagined what it might have looked like, full of children and families.

Lucifer chuckled, casting him a sidelong glance that made Adam’s pulse skip.

“That’s the thing, Adam,” he said, his voice low and laced with something darkly amused. “People never think they’ll just… disappear. One day, they’re putting up schools and bakeries, and the next…”

His words trailed off, but his gaze lingered on Adam, as though there was a deeper meaning he wasn’t quite saying.

Adam laughed awkwardly, forcing himself to break eye contact. “Yeah. Guess it was a dumb statement.”

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on him, a strange fondness flickering behind his eyes as he smirked.

“Maybe not that dumb,” he murmured, so softly that Adam barely heard him. He gave the school one last glance as they walked past, letting its ghostly presence sink into the fog behind them.

The hotel loomed closer, its faded sign hanging at an angle above the door, weathered and abandoned yet strangely inviting. Adam quickened his pace, falling in step with Lucifer as they approached the entrance, feeling the eyes of the forgotten town watching them from within every broken window and every shadowed corner.

They entered the hotel, swallowed by darkness and the faint scent of mildew and decay. The heavy doors creaked shut behind them, sealing them in. Dust drifted through the air like fine ash, and the air felt thick, weighted with years of silence and secrets. The lobby was eerily pristine despite the dust; old armchairs sat arranged as though they’d been waiting forever, empty yet expectant. A fireplace lay cold and dark, its ashes undisturbed but somehow recent, as though someone had been here, warming themselves by the fire… waiting.

Adam turned, uneasy, only to find Lucifer leaning against the counter, studying him with a gaze that felt like it could pierce right through him. The look in Lucifer’s eyes was strange—dark, a little too intent, as if he was savouring every moment here, every glance, every touch. Adam could feel his cheeks warm slightly but chalked it up to nerves, unaware of the amusement glinting in Lucifer’s eyes.

“Come on, partner,” Lucifer said, his voice sliding through the dark like honeyed poison. “Let’s see what else this place has to offer.”

He offered his hand with a crooked smile, a silent invitation—or was it a dare? Adam hesitated, but after a heartbeat’s pause, he took it, feeling the warmth of Lucifer’s hand swallow his own.

They moved together deeper into the shadows, the broken mirrors lining the halls casting fractured reflections of themselves back as they walked side by side. In the mirrors, shadows seemed to cling to their images, dark shapes flickering just behind them, stretching longer than they should, as if the darkness itself wanted to reach out, to touch.

Adam couldn’t shake the feeling of being drawn deeper, not only by the hotel but by the faint, relentless pull of Lucifer’s eyes. The walls seemed to tighten around them, the whispers of fog drifting through cracked windows, curling like breath. Somewhere in the distance, a soft, melodic hum echoed, barely audible, like a lullaby sung in another life.

Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, low and almost… fond.

“Stick close to me, Adam. I’d hate for something to happen to you here.” The words lingered in the air like smoke, curling into Adam’s mind as they stepped further, deeper, into the heart of Silent Hill, and the strange, twisted secrets it seemed all too eager to share.

Adam coughed, the dust prickling in his throat, prompting a pointed look from Lucifer.

“You got your inhaler?” he asked, one eyebrow arched in concern.

“Of course I do,” Adam replied grumpily, patting his pocket.

“Good,” Lucifer said, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Last thing I need is you having another asthma attack like in Italy.”

“That won’t happen,” Adam assured him, a mix of amusement and defensiveness colouring his voice. “Quit worrying, Mom.”

Lucifer gasped in mock offense, playfully swatting at Adam's shoulder. “Mom, huh?” Their laughter echoed through the fog, a reminder of the years spent together, a bond forged in darkness and light. In that moment, Adam felt an overwhelming swell of gratitude—Lucifer had been his anchor during the stormiest days, his truest friend.

With a shared sense of determination, they pushed through the dusty double doors, stepping into the hotel’s entryway. The interior was as lifeless as the exterior, drenched in shadows. Faded, peeling wallpaper clung to the walls like dead skin, and the ceiling bore dark patches of mold that spread like inkblots across the surface. The carpet lay in tatters, moth-eaten and reeking of neglect, while pieces of upturned furniture lay scattered as if the hotel had been abandoned mid-chaos, frozen in its last moments of despair.

And then there were the dolls.

Dozens of them, seated in eerie, haphazard clusters across the lounge area. Some perched on the edges of tables, others sprawled over upturned chairs, all facing forward as if waiting for a performance to begin. Their lifeless eyes, dull and unblinking, created an unsettling audience, their blank stares fixed squarely on Lucifer and Adam, silently judging their intrusion.

Lucifer glanced back at Adam, a mischievous smirk creeping onto his face. Taking a deep breath, he bellowed, “HELLO!”

Adam jumped, his heart racing as he clutched his chest. “Lucifer! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Lucifer burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. “See? Nobody here but a bunch of creepy dolls!”

Adam rolled his eyes, letting out a huff of relief, though the earlier image of that fleeting shadow lingered in his mind like a bad dream. “Maybe it was just... I don’t know, my imagination playing tricks,” he mumbled, still unsettled.

“Probably,” Lucifer replied, giving him a knowing look. “You didn’t sleep much last night. That always happens when you’re tired.”

He spun around, fingers snapping as he backtracked toward the front desk, gesturing for Adam to get the camera ready.

Adam shrugged off his pack, pulling out the camera and lifting it to his shoulder. With practiced ease, he directed it toward Lucifer, who was positioning himself near the counter, standing in front of a weathered wooden wall of room keys, many of which were mysteriously missing.

Clearing his throat, Lucifer lowered his voice into a haunting, theatrical tone. “Behind me, you’ll notice the once-grand Silent Hill Hotel, left to rot in its own quiet despair. Dusty floors, overturned furniture, and most curiously…”

He stepped aside, allowing the camera to focus on the wall of tarnished keys. “These.”

Reaching out, he tapped the tarnished plaques with his finger. “Each key here would have led to a room filled with life—a family on vacation, a couple celebrating an anniversary, a businessman traveling for work…”

His voice softened, leaning in closer to the camera. “But look closely, folks—more than half of these keys are missing. You have to wonder… where did all those people go?”

His hand fell as he gestured to the empty spaces on the wall, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe they never checked out. Maybe they were… spirited away in their rooms, vanished without a trace, leaving nothing behind but these eerie dolls as reminders.”

Despite the unsettling atmosphere, Adam couldn’t help but grin. Lucifer had a unique talent for transforming any setting into a stage for shadows and mysteries, and Silent Hill seemed to inspire the most chilling performances. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the camera’s whir, as he glanced around the empty lobby.

“And if you listen closely,” he continued, leaning toward the lens, “You might just hear them whispering, waiting… as if they’ve never really left.”

He stepped back, letting the weight of his words linger in the air. Adam clicked the camera off, still feeling a tingle of excitement from Lucifer's performance. He exhaled, shaking his head in admiration.

“You sure know how to make an empty room feel haunted,” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

Lucifer shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “It’s all about selling the story, my friend.”

His gaze flicked past Adam, fixating on the shadowy stairwell that led up into the darkness. “And I have a feeling… that we’ve only scratched the surface.”

With that, the two of them exchanged a glance, a mix of apprehension and exhilaration swirling in the air between them. Whatever secrets lay hidden within the heart of Silent Hill, they would face them together, united against the encroaching shadows. As they moved deeper into the hotel, the atmosphere grew heavier, thick with the weight of memories long forgotten and whispers yet to be spoken.

As Adam and Lucifer ventured deeper into the hotel’s shadows, the building seemed to creak and groan around them, as though the hotel itself was alive, watching them navigate its decay with quiet amusement. Dust floated thickly in the air, catching in Adam’s throat and clinging to every surface, and the once-grand decor had faded into bleakness. Blue paint peeled from the walls, curling back like desiccated leaves, and patches of garish, outdated wallpaper hung limply, stained by years of neglect. Holes and gaping fissures pocked the floor, leaving yawning gaps between the remaining boards—forcing the two to climb gingerly along the edges, testing each step before daring to proceed.

Lucifer paused beside Adam as they stepped around a particularly large hole. He nudged Adam, eyes alight with mischief despite the grim surroundings.

“You know,” he purred, his voice low and teasing, “We are in a hotel. We could find a room and... make our own kind of fun.”

Adam let out a bark of laughter, entirely oblivious to the suggestive undertone. “Yeah, sure! You really want to hang out in this dump? We’d probably get tetanus from the sheets.”

He grinned, nudging Lucifer back, seemingly amused by his friend’s “joke.”

Lucifer chuckled, lips curving into a soft smile, enjoying the obliviousness. He glanced sideways at Adam, eyes flicking over his childhood friend’s face, savouring the unspoken tension between them even if Adam remained blissfully unaware.

They came to another gaping hole in the floor, wider than most, the broken edges of wood jutting upward like teeth. Adam surveyed it and turned back to Lucifer, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’ll go first. Long legs have their advantages, you know?” he teased, making a show of easily leaping across the gap and landing on the other side with a graceful thud.

He turned, offering his hands to Lucifer with a grin. “Need a hand, shorty?”

Lucifer’s cheeks puffed out indignantly. “I am not short.”

With a defiant huff, he took a few steps back, then sprinted forward, eyes trained on the other side. But as his feet left the ground, his boot slipped on the dusty floorboard. He teetered on the edge, arms flailing, a flash of fear sparking in his blue eyes.

Before he could slip back, Adam lunged forward, grabbing Lucifer’s arm and yanking him close, pulling him flush against his chest. For a moment, the world went silent, and Lucifer’s arms instinctively wrapped around Adam’s middle, his face pressed into the warmth of his friend’s chest. His heart thundered, not entirely from the near-fall.

Adam grinned down at him, brows raised with amusement. “Scared, Lucy?”

Lucifer lifted his gaze, cheeks tinged pink as he met Adam’s eyes. His voice dropped to a murmur, barely audible above the quiet creaks of the hotel. “Not when you’re here, I’m not.”

Adam’s grin widened, his face lighting up at the compliment. He gave Lucifer’s smaller form an affectionate squeeze, and Lucifer let out a small yelp, squirming as Adam’s strong arms held him tight.

“Y-you’re crushing me, you oaf!” Lucifer whined, his face heating further as he half-heartedly pushed at Adam’s chest.

Adam laughed, loosening his grip but keeping his hands steady on Lucifer’s shoulders, his expression playful. “Alright, alright. But you’ve gotta admit—this shorty’s a little lucky I’ve got long legs.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, huffing, but his smile lingered, soft and genuine, his flushed cheeks betraying the gratitude—and something else—that Adam hadn’t yet recognized.

As they continued their careful exploration through the silent, desolate hotel, Adam and Lucifer walked side by side, their footsteps muted by the thick layer of dust coating the carpet. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, lined with broken light fixtures that flickered faintly, casting eerie shadows across peeling walls and rotting doors. Faint, twisted sounds reached them from deeper within the corridor—odd, distorted groans, metallic scrapes, and an unsettling whining that seemed to ripple through the walls themselves.

The two exchanged a wary look, and Lucifer instinctively shuffled closer to Adam, his hand brushing against Adam’s. Adam, almost reflexively, took hold of his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Lucifer’s breath hitched, a brief smile flickering across his face as he clung tightly, his fingers laced with Adam’s. Together, they gazed down the dim hallway, where half-open doors revealed rooms in various states of decay. In some rooms, a few dolls sat on the floor or propped against beds, their lifeless eyes fixed vacantly on the doorway, as if waiting.

They ventured further down the corridor, drawn by the unsettling noises. As they approached, the sounds intensified, morphing into something far worse than simple groans—now inhuman whining, like metal grating against bone, underscored by the eerie sound of wire stretching and snapping in sharp bursts. Adam’s grip tightened as they stopped in front of a door marked "Janitor’s Closet," its handle tarnished and faintly rusted.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for the door. Slowly, he pressed against it, and the door dragged open with a grating, ear-piercing whine. It scraped along the floor as it swung open, revealing a grotesque sight.

Inside, wire webs stretched in tangled webs from wall to wall, binding every inch of the small room. The wires crisscrossed in intricate patterns, wrapping around and pulling tight across a form—a corpse hanging midair, twisted backward by the sharp, biting wire. Its face, pale and rotted, stared blankly forward, its mouth open in a silent scream as the wires twisted through its limbs, pinning it in a grotesque puppet-like pose.

Lucifer’s eyes widened in horror, his hand flying to his mouth as he stumbled back, his face ghostly pale.

“That—that’s not a doll,” he gasped, his voice trembling. His stomach twisted violently, and he choked out, “I’m… I’m gonna be sick!”

He clamped a hand over his mouth, slipping his hand free from Adam’s grasp as he turned, desperate to get away.

Adam covered his own mouth, his own pulse pounding as the rancid odour of decay filled the air. The sight was sickening, even worse than the dolls—something about the way the corpse was suspended, bound like some macabre piece of art, felt personal, as though the hotel were trapping them in a twisted game. His heart raced, and he didn’t need another look to agree with Lucifer’s instinct to flee.

They stumbled back into the corridor, both struggling to shake the haunting image from their minds. Just as they caught their breath, Lucifer’s foot hovered over empty air where solid ground should have been. He screamed, the sound piercing as he lurched forward, the floor giving way in the blink of an eye.

“Lucifer!” Adam shouted, lunging forward and grabbing his arm just before he could fall into the dark chasm that had somehow formed behind them. He pulled him back with all his strength, and they both toppled back, landing heavily on the ground, Lucifer landing squarely against Adam’s chest.

For a moment, they lay there, Lucifer’s rapid breaths hot against Adam’s neck, his fingers digging into Adam’s hoodie with a death grip. Adam rubbed his back in soothing circles, his own heart still pounding.

“You—you okay?” he managed, his voice gentle as he glanced down at his trembling friend.

Lucifer nodded, though his expression betrayed his rattled state. His fingers clung to Adam’s hoodie, eyes fixed on the spot where solid floor had just been, his breath coming in short, gasping pants.

Adam’s gaze followed Lucifer’s, staring at the gaping hole in the corridor with equal disbelief. Had the floor just given out after they’d walked over it? The quiet realization settled over them that, like everything else in this town, the very structure of the hotel was shifting, moving beneath their feet, as though leading them deeper into its depths.

But with Lucifer’s fingers clinging to his shirt, Adam felt a surge of determination, a silent promise to keep him safe. Squeezing him tighter for just a moment, Adam whispered, “I’m not letting go. Not in here—not ever.”

Lucifer blushed, his grip softening as he looked up, his eyes meeting Adam’s with an unspoken gratitude.

Adam’s soft smile lingered as he slowly loosened his hold, but not before giving Lucifer one last reassuring squeeze.

Lucifer’s breaths came shallow and fast, his chest heaving as he clutched at Adam’s hoodie, his wide blue eyes staring up at him, filled with horror.

“Who… who could have done that?” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper, hands shaking. “That body… Adam, how was it even here? Shouldn’t the police have found it? Taped this place off or something?”

Adam’s face softened, and he reached up, gently cupping Lucifer’s face between his hands, thumbs brushing lightly over his cheeks.

“Hey, look at me. It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady, grounding Lucifer. “Just take a few deep breaths. Focus on me, alright? We’ll be fine. I don’t know how long that poor person has been there, but it could have happened after the police last came through.”

Lucifer stared at him, his breaths gradually slowing, his gaze locked onto Adam’s eyes. He nodded, a little unsteady, as he processed Adam’s words.

“So… we’ll leave, then? Tell the police?” he asked, his voice still shaky.

Adam nodded, his grip on Lucifer steady as he helped him to his feet. But as Lucifer straightened, his legs buckled, his strength giving out as he slumped back into Adam’s arms, his whole body trembling.

“I’ve never… I’ve never seen anything like that,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Adam held him closer, rubbing his back in slow, comforting circles. “I know. Just breathe. I’m right here with you.”

After a few moments, Lucifer’s breathing steadied again, and he nodded, his fingers still gripping Adam’s sleeve tightly. Adam looked back to the broken floor ahead, the gap stretching across the hallway.

“Alright,” he said, Llooks like we’ll have to shimmy along the wall to get around it. It’s too big to jump.”

He stepped up to the edge, pressing himself flat against the wall, his movements careful but confident as he edged along the narrow strip of floor that remained. Reaching the other side, Adam turned back to Lucifer, offering him a reassuring smile.

“See? It’s easy. Just keep looking at me, okay? Don’t look down. I’ll be right here.”

Lucifer glanced down at the dark void beneath him, swallowing thickly before looking back at Adam. He nodded, his face pale, and followed, trembling as he pressed himself against the wall, inching along with his eyes fixed solely on Adam. When he reached the other side, he reached out, and Adam took his hand, helping him up onto the platform.

“There. You did great,” Adam said softly, smiling down at him with a gentle warmth that steadied Lucifer.

Lucifer sniffed, managing a faint smile as he shook his head.

“Maybe… we should wait until morning,” he mumbled, gesturing to the window at the end of the hallway, where the sky had darkened. “I don’t want to walk through this place—and then the forest—in the pitch black.”

Adam nodded, glancing around at the nearby doors. “Agreed. It’d be unwise to head out now.” He nodded toward one of the cracked, ajar doors. “We can wait in here until dawn. The hotel might actually be our safest bet for the night.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened as Adam pushed the door open, revealing a small, dusty room, mercifully empty of any dolls.

“We… we’re staying together?” he asked softly, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

Adam blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Yeah, that was the idea. Unless… you’d rather not?”

But Lucifer immediately shook his head, his grip tightening on Adam’s hand.

“No! I… I don’t want to be alone,” he said quickly, stepping closer to him, his expression earnest.

With a soft smile, Adam led him into the room. The door didn’t lock, so they improvised, stacking a few heavy objects—an old wooden chair, a dusty crate—against it, creating a makeshift barricade. It wasn’t much, but it gave them a little sense of security.

They both settled on the floor, their backs against the wall, both hesitant to touch the bed, its stained, dust-coated mattress giving them second thoughts. Lucifer leaned into Adam’s side, his head resting against Adam’s shoulder, his eyes still wide and wary, his body tense.

Adam slid an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in a little closer.

“It’ll be alright, Lucifer,” he murmured softly, his tone warm and reassuring.

Lucifer’s breath hitched slightly as he glanced up at him, finding comfort in the warmth of Adam’s presence. The weight of the room, the decay, the darkness—they all felt a little less suffocating with Adam by his side.

For the first time that night, Lucifer closed his eyes, allowing himself to let go, even if just a little, as Adam’s steady presence kept his fears at bay.

The room lay silent, thick with dust and shadows that seemed to stretch toward them, yet all Lucifer could focus on was Adam’s peaceful face, his steady breaths and the soft rise and fall of his chest. The faint moonlight filtering through the grimy window cast gentle shadows across Adam’s face, highlighting his strong jawline and the faint curve of his lips. Even in sleep, Adam’s expression held a quiet strength, and Lucifer couldn’t look away.

A wave of something familiar but forbidden rose in Lucifer’s chest—an ache that had lingered there for as long as he could remember. Adam’s presence was a balm, easing an ache he never fully understood. Shifting slightly, he slid from Adam’s side to his lap, moving carefully so as not to wake him. His fingers found the zipper of Adam’s hoodie, pinching it lightly, hesitating for a moment before he slowly pulled it down. As he did, a faint rustle of fabric stirred the silence. He took a deep breath, settling himself against Adam’s chest, laying his head there, feeling the warmth seep through the thin fabric of Adam’s shirt.

He closed his eyes, listening to the steady thump of Adam’s heart beneath his cheek—a comforting, rhythmic beat that lulled his own fears and stirred up a bittersweet comfort. Lucifer’s hand found its way to Adam’s chest, his fingers splaying out, his palm pressing against the gentle curve of muscle. He could feel Adam’s heartbeat even more strongly now, each beat a reminder of the warmth, the safety, and the longing he felt so acutely.

Lucifer had always admired Adam’s way of falling asleep so easily, no matter where they were. Adam could drift off anywhere, in the middle of any situation, with a trust that everything around him would work out. Lucifer had never had that kind of peace. There was a restlessness in him, a cold hollowness that felt as though it was etched into his very bones. Ever since he could remember, he’d felt different, as if he were missing some vital piece, some part of himself that would make him feel whole. It was a feeling that had gnawed at him for years, a creeping emptiness he couldn’t shake.

But with Adam, the edges of that hollow feeling softened. The emptiness seemed bearable, and he felt… alive. Whole, in a way that both soothed him and made him ache even more deeply. He longed to confess these feelings, to tell Adam the truth of the love he kept locked away, yet he never found the courage. Adam was his best friend, his one constant—and the thought of risking that friendship, of confessing something that might drive a wedge between them, was terrifying.

He felt Adam stir slightly beneath him, his heartbeat quickening for just a moment before slowing back down. As Lucifer rested his hand on Adam’s chest, feeling the warmth and life beneath his fingers, he allowed himself a rare vulnerability, a quiet confession to the darkness around them. He gazed down at Adam’s face, memorizing every detail, every angle, allowing himself to imagine—for just a moment—that Adam felt the same way.

Lucifer closed his eyes, pressing his palm more firmly against Adam’s chest, feeling the strong, steady rhythm beneath his hand. That heart had saved him more times than he could count, had pulled him back from the edge of loneliness and fear. Here, in the silence, it felt like the only sound in the world, and for this one night, it was enough.

Blue eyes opening again, Lucifer began to slid his hand back and forth, rubbing Adam’s chest. His fingers brushed against Adam’s nipple, feeling it beginning to harden under his fingertips. Lucifer slowly pulled back and tilted his head, gazing up into Adam’s face as he played with Adam’s nipple. He began to lift his other hand, cupping Adam’s other breast and squeezing gently, rubbing both nipples through his t-shirt.

Honestly, Lucifer would have never done this. He would have never had the courage too. But for some reason, he felt different. Being in Silent Hill, he felt like he was different.

Leaning forward, Lucifer parted his lips and licked at Adam’s hardening nipples through the t-shirt. He sucks softly, groaning as he heard Adam’s breathe hitch. His blue eyes became dazed as he played with them, his hands twitching with the urge to slip underneath the t-shirt.

A startled gasp escaped Lucifer as he pulled his hands away in shock.

What was he doing? He shouldn’t be doing that. Not to Adam. Not his Adam.

Rubbing his hot face, Lucifer buried his head back into Adam’s chest and clenched his eyes shut. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. He chanted in his head. Sleep and don’t do anything!

No matter how hard Lucifer tried to forget about it, he still found himself thinking…

Adam’s nipples felt so nice on my tongue…

Adam’s eyes flew open, squinting against the soft morning light filtering in through the grimy hotel window. He let out a groan, arching his back until it cracked, trying to shake off the fog of sleep that still clung to him. Blinking, he surveyed the room, momentarily thrown by the strange surroundings, until the memories of last night crept back.

The cold, dusty room. The unsettling feeling of being watched. Lucifer…

Adam’s hand went instinctively to his hoodie, frowning as he noticed it had somehow come unzipped. He could’ve sworn he’d zipped it up tightly before they’d hunkered down, and he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that something had shifted overnight. That’s when it hit him—Lucifer was nowhere in sight. The spot beside him was empty.

A spike of panic shot through him, and Adam spun around the room, his gaze snapping to the door. The makeshift barricade they’d set up was partially displaced, the door cracked open just enough for Lucifer to have slipped through quietly in the night.

“Shit,” Adam muttered, rushing to the door and practically throwing himself through it into the corridor. Why would Lucifer leave? It didn’t make any sense. They’d both agreed it was safer to stay together.

"Lucifer!" Adam shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth as his voice echoed down the eerie, empty hallway. He strained to listen, waiting for any reply, but was met with a chilling silence. The only sound was a faint creaking from the floor above, like someone was slowly pacing or…running.

“Lucifer?” he called again, voice tight with worry as he sprinted down the corridor, reaching the staircase and taking the steps two at a time until he arrived at the sixth floor. His footsteps echoed, and a shiver ran down his spine as he noticed that, unlike the lower floors, this hallway was lined with enormous, imposing paintings instead of doors.

The paintings loomed on either side, all religious in theme—depictions of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and saints—but there was something disturbingly distorted in the details. Each figure’s expression was exaggerated, eyes hollow and haunting. It felt like they were staring directly into his soul. Adam’s pace slowed as he took in each unsettling face, his gaze lingering on a massive painting labelled “666.” It portrayed a monstrous, twisted angel wreathed in black flames, its expression somewhere between agony and rage.

Just then, a blood-curdling scream cut through the air, echoing down the corridor and jolting Adam from his thoughts.

He spun around, shouting, “Lucifer?!” Panic laced his voice as he searched for the source of the scream.

It seemed to be coming from behind the “666” painting. Adam’s brow furrowed as he reached out, pressing his hand to the canvas, feeling along its edges. To his surprise, the outline of a hidden door lay just beneath the surface. He took a quick glance down the hall, then spotted a shard of broken glass nearby.

Without hesitating, he grabbed the glass, using it to slice a line down the painting’s centre. The material gave way, peeling back like a dark curtain and revealing a concealed door behind it.

As the canvas fell away, Adam stood before the hidden door, his heart pounding fiercely against his chest. The screaming had stopped as abruptly as it began, leaving an unnerving silence in its wake. He wrapped his fingers around the cold handle, hesitating for a fraction of a second before pulling it open. The door creaked, revealing a narrow, dim passage beyond, barely lit by the weak rays filtering through cracks in the walls. Dust danced in the stagnant air, swirling around as if disturbed by some unseen presence.

Adam swallowed, bracing himself as he stepped into the dark corridor. His mind raced with worry, images of Lucifer lost or hurt flashing through his thoughts. He clenched his fists. Why would Lucifer wander off alone? And where could he have possibly gone?

As he moved forward, the unsettling feeling of being watched grew, pressing down on him, but he pushed through it. Ahead, he glimpsed another door, its wood rotted and scarred. Carved into it was a crude engraving of the same twisted angel from the painting outside. Beneath it, words were scratched in haphazard, jagged lettering:

"Sins left unspoken. Souls left forgotten."

Adam stood just beyond the threshold of Room 666, staring into the yawning chasm that awaited him. The room had the desolate feel of a once-grand ballroom, stripped of all its former glory, and now opened into a blackened pit. The faint odor of charred wood and scorched metal hung in the air, with only a few skeletal remains of the floor left intact. Where walls and pillars once rose, there were now jagged platforms clinging precariously to the edges, each one groaning under even the smallest weight. Adam’s gaze flickered down, noting the precarious squeak of the platform beneath his feet. One wrong step, and he’d be swallowed whole.

With a cautious breath, Adam scanned the ruined expanse, his green eyes adjusting to the dim, heavy gloom. And then he saw him—Lucifer. The figure crouched across the vast drop, perched on another brittle ledge. His head was bowed, his platinum hair casting a soft glow in the shadows. Adam felt his breath catch.

“Lucifer?” he called softly, his voice echoing across the darkness.

At the sound, Lucifer’s shoulders tensed, his silhouette somehow smaller, as if retreating inward. Relief washed over Adam, his voice trembling with the weight of worry and a thread of hope. “Hang on… I’m coming to you.”

Adam’s eyes traced the exposed framework around them. Torn wires dangled like twisted vines, their ends sparking faintly in the darkness. Wrapping his hands around one, he tugged, testing its strength. It held firm—enough, he hoped, to bear his weight. He cast one last glance at Lucifer, steeling himself. “The things I do for you,” he murmured, trying to keep his tone light. But Lucifer gave no reaction, his silence stretching cold and empty.

Adam bit his lip, suppressing a pang of dread as he swung across, landing heavily on the opposite platform. His sneakers slipped on the charred surface, nearly sending him over the edge, but he steadied himself. Just a breath away now, he took in Lucifer’s form—crouched low, back to him, so still he could’ve been a statue. He looked… different. Smaller, more fragile somehow.

“Lucifer?” Adam whispered, voice soft and reassuring as he moved closer, bending down until he was nearly eye-level. “Hey… it’s okay. I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”

He reached out, fingers brushing against Lucifer’s shoulder, and felt the shudder that rippled through his friend’s body. Slowly, Lucifer lifted his head, turning to look at Adam. The movement was unnaturally stiff, his head snapping around with a predator’s precision. Adam’s breath hitched, his blood running cold as he locked eyes with the figure before him. Lucifer’s gaze was a shocking blaze of blood-red and gold, gleaming with a darkness that seemed to pulse in the shadows. His lips twisted upward in a smile that was both seductive and sinister, sharp teeth glinting beneath the soft glow.

Adam’s heart lurched. This isn’t him, he realized, his gaze dropping from Lucifer’s eyes to his outfit—no longer the oversized sweater and dark jeans, but something far more elegant, though distinctly inhuman. His best friend looked like a creature draped in an ethereal, almost otherworldly suit, stitched from shadows and something darker, something unknowable.

“L-Lucifer?” Adam’s voice cracked as he edged backward, careful not to stumble off the platform.

Lucifer grinned wider, his gaze trailing Adam with a predatory intensity, his movements sinuous as he advanced. Adam flinched, his back colliding with a twisted, jagged piece of metal. He was trapped, his escape cut off.

“Oh, Addie…” Lucifer’s voice slithered through the air, a sound like silk sliding over glass shards. His hands rose, long, clawed fingers stretching towards Adam. Those black claws traced the line of his jaw, the touch cold as ice yet burning against Adam’s skin. “You’ve come back… I always knew you would.”

Adam’s mouth opened, but no words came. His mind raced, but it was as if the shadows themselves were pressing down on his chest, stealing his voice. And then, in one swift movement, Lucifer leaned closer, his lips brushing over Adam’s. The touch was intoxicating, a kiss both tender and consuming, a union of hunger and desperation.

Adam felt Lucifer’s tongue, serpentine and invasive, slip past his lips. He gasped, feeling his heart pound with a mixture of fear and something darker, deeper, an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Helpless, he succumbed to the kiss, caught in the grasp of something that was both his friend—and something far beyond that.

Jumping, Adam’s eyes widened when Lucifer’s claws suddenly ran down his front. They gripped Adam’s chest tightly, his claws fondling Adam’s breasts before Lucifer pulled back with a grin. He yanked Adam’s t-shirt up, revealing his chest and delicious nipples.

“You’re so pretty~” Lucifer cooed, beginning to rub Adam’s nipples with purpose, “You still so pretty and lovely, Addie~”

“W-Wait, what – Ah!” Adam gasped as Lucifer pushed his knee forward, pressing it against the area between Adam’s legs.

“Addie, you’re still so bashful~” Lucifer whispered, lowering his head and allowing his long serpent tongue to slip out.

A whimper escaped Adam as Lucifer began to lick at his nipples, sliding his tongue back and forth. Tracing it was hunger before he took it into his mouth and sucking. All the time, Lucifer was rubbing his knee against Adam’s hardening cock.

Adam gasped as Lucifer’s kiss faded into empty air, his knees nearly buckling beneath him. His glassy eyes darted around, scanning the eerie, desolate pit. But the twisted, demonic vision of Lucifer had vanished, disappearing into the shadows as though he’d never been there.

Adam’s heart pounded in the hollow silence, his breath shaky as he whispered, “Lucifer…?”

His voice was a frail thread of hope, swallowed by the cavernous darkness around him.

Then, faintly, he heard it—a familiar voice, fragile yet achingly familiar, echoing softly. “Adam? Where are you?”

Adam perked up, clutching his chest as if the sound might disappear. Relief and confusion tangled within him, grounding him just enough to regain control of his legs. He gripped the hanging wire he’d used to cross the chasm, taking a moment to steady himself before carefully swinging back to the other side. He dared not glance back at the desolate pit, forcing himself to ignore the icy dread it left lingering in his bones.

He hurried down the narrow, decayed steps of the abandoned hotel, following the faint echoes of Lucifer’s voice as it led him forward. Bursting through the double doors into the crisp night air, he saw him—Lucifer, standing alone in the middle of the deserted street. The glow from the street lamps cast soft shadows over his familiar form, and for a second, Adam’s chest clenched with something like longing.

Lucifer turned sharply as Adam threw open the doors. For a brief moment, they simply stared at each other, Adam’s breath catching in his throat as he drank in the sight before him. It was truly Lucifer, his best friend, with the warm blue eyes that sparkled under the streetlights, wrapped snugly in his oversized, worn-out fuzzy sweater and leather jacket.

“Lucifer!” Adam called, his voice cracking with relief as he sprinted down the steps, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. He threw his arms around Lucifer, pulling him into a fierce, desperate hug.

Lucifer jerked in surprise but quickly hugged him back, clutching him tightly as if afraid he’d vanish. He tilted his head up to look at Adam, brows knitting together in frustration. “Where were you? I woke up, and you were just… gone!” His voice trembled, laced with both irritation and the lingering echo of fear. “How could you just leave me like that?”

Adam’s eyes widened, his pulse racing. “What? No, Luci, you were gone when I woke up! I looked everywhere, and then I found—”

He paused, swallowing hard, struggling to push the vision of the other Lucifer out of his mind.

Lucifer’s eyes flickered with a mixture of confusion and fear, his brow furrowing as he shook his head.

“N-No… that’s not possible. I woke up, and… you weren’t there. The door was open, and I thought—” He trailed off, his voice catching, eyes darting briefly over Adam’s shoulder to the ominous hotel looming behind them.

Adam cupped Lucifer’s face gently, his thumb tracing the edge of his cheek.

“You’re here now. That’s what matters,” he whispered, his voice low but filled with a strange, newfound intensity. He realized he’d been trembling, his whole body humming with the memory of the other Lucifer’s claws and smile. He forced himself to focus on the warmth of the real Lucifer in his arms.

Lucifer blinked up at him, his gaze softening, the fear slowly melting from his expression.

“You scared me, Addie. Don’t do that again,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

Adam took a shaky step back, his hand instinctively reaching out to grip Lucifer’s tightly. He gave his friend a weak but earnest smile, squeezing his hand as if to ground himself in the reality of Lucifer’s warmth. "I won’t leave you again. I promise."

Lucifer sniffed, eyes damp with relief as he looked up. "Then… let’s go. I want to get out of here, Adam. I want to leave Silent Hill behind."

“Me too,” he murmured.

Together, they set off, urgency fuelling each step as they retraced their path through the darkened, fog-drenched streets. Their footsteps echoed off the silent ruins, the unsettling quiet of the town feeling heavier with each stride, as though something watched from the shrouded windows and cracked walls.

Soot drifted through the sky like snow.

As they neared the town’s edge, Adam felt his pulse quicken, eager to put Silent Hill—and its horrors—behind them. But then, they stopped dead, horror seizing them both.

The road had been torn asunder. Where the street should have stretched on, there was now only a jagged cliff, yawning open like the mouth of some immense beast. Rocks and debris tumbled down into an endless darkness below, swallowed up without a sound. Silent Hill seemed to have devoured its own exit, sealing them in.

Adam’s heart pounded as he peered over the edge, his grip on Lucifer’s hand tightening.

“No… this can’t be,” he whispered, the hopelessness clawing at his chest.

Lucifer’s face paled, his blue eyes wide with disbelief. “Adam, what do we do?”

His voice trembled, and he looked back at Adam with a helplessness that broke Adam’s heart.

“We’ll find another way,” Adam said, though he could barely keep his own voice steady. “We have to.”

But even as he said it, the air around them grew colder, the fog thickening into an almost solid wall of mist. It pressed in, swirling around them like a shroud, obscuring everything but each other. Adam pulled Lucifer closer, their breaths mingling in the chilling air as they clung to the one familiar warmth.

“We’ll…we’ll figure this out.”

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