#Team Solitude

[raebaekaedae]

Volume One, Episode Seven: “Extracurricular”

Series: SCWR Rating: PG-13 (Foul Language, Violence against Fantasy Monsters, Violence, Death Mentioned, Prominent Themes, Themes of Racism) Summary: (3,583 words) “Finally healed and ready to return to action, Hadrian ends up trapped underground with Ryder after an extra credit mission goes awry. With no where to go but up, the boys will have to work together to escape the cavern crawling with Creeps. However, Haddy’s unsure of what will kill him first... the grimm or his awkward attempts to get to know his quietest teammate.”

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How could one person be so heavy? Hadrian heaved along with Ryder's torso thrown over his upper back, securing him by his scaled arms as his cheek was pressed into Haddy's shoulder. Sweat, iron, oil, and moldy dirt bombarded his nose. He could feel his fellow faunus's feet dragging along the ground, but he really couldn't help that Ryder was a solid six-and-a-half feet tall. His first day without that stupid sling in over a week, and he had to spend it trapped underground in a musty cave caked in a mildewy smell.

His scroll was secured in his teeth with the flashlight pointed forward, feebly trying to illuminate any obstacles; however, it was mostly just making annoying shadows that obscured said obstacles. When he stumbled over yet another loose rock, he let out an echoing growl of irritation. The sound reverberated quietly off the walls of the cave, slowly disappearing into the darkness behind them.

Haddy grumbled as he readjusted Ryder's weight on his back, pushing on into the cave system. As he sighed once again, he thought back to a few hours ago, before all this happened.

"Field trip!" Robyn excitedly shouted as she jumped up into the air with her arms and legs spread. Ryder caught her on her way down and set her back on the ground with a roll of his yellow eyes.

Monroe sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she asked, "Really? On the weekend?" The other students gathered around the student message board all groaned, some of the older fourth years and even bolder thirds even started to walk away.

"Welllllll, not exactly," the redhead drew out, snatching the flyer from off the poster board and reading it over, "It says here that Mrs. Heather is offering extra credit for each picture of a different grimm that you can take with your scroll by the end of the day."

"Sounds like a pain," Monroe said, linking her fingers behind her head as she sighed.

Hadrian, however, walked up behind Robyn and started reading the flyer over her shoulder. After a moment, he smirked, "It's worth it though. Ten points on your choice of attendance, test, or participation per grimm."

When Monroe again didn't look enthused, the husky faunus nonchalantly expanded, "It'd be perfect for three, unnamed students who skipped out on a class covering regional grimm-- in which their valiant leader had to cover for and tutor them-- and they lost precious attendance and participation points in said class, dropping them to B-averages."

The blonde pirate looked over at Haddy with a raised brow and judgmental frown. Ryder, however, chuckled as he walked over and started to look over the flyer as well. After a moment, the trio looked back to their secret leader and dug into her with shit-eating grins. Monroe huffed out a sigh and rolled her eyes before also joining them to read the instructions.

She pouted as she glanced over the flyer, "If we want to get our grades back up to A's, we'll each need four grimm; two for attendance and two for participation."

"No problemo," Robyn chirped with a smile, "We can easily grab an Ursa, Beowolf, and Boarbatusk in the Emerald Forest."

Haddy rubbed his chin as he thought, "Yeah, but what about the last one? Sure there are Deathstalkers and King Taijitu out there, but they're pretty rare. How about a Nevermore?"

"Too quick and small," the blonde replied, "Goliath?"

"The closest herd is out by Mount Glenn, too far to get there and back before sundown," Hadrian sighed. When his teammates turned to look at him with surprise in their eyes, he nervously laughed, "I might have done a little research after our Goliath fight."

With a laugh, Robyn jumped up and ruffled Hadrian's hair. As he batted her away and started to smooth out his hair, Ryder spoke up, "What 'bout a Creep?"

The trio looked at him, before weighing their options. Monroe remarked, "They are indigenous to the Forest..."

However, Robyn quickly added, "We'd have to split up though. They're usually found underground."

"Not a problem," Haddy smiled, standing on his tiptoes to wrap an arm around Ryder's scaled shoulders, "Ryder and I can go spelunking while you guys find the easy shots."

He honestly just wanted a chance to bond with his fellow faunus...

Almost immediately, Robyn and Monroe looked at each other. He could have been wrong, but the husky was sure that he'd seen concern in their eyes. However, before he could ask, Ryder nodded, "Sound's good t' me."

Robyn hesitated before she reached a hand up to Ryder's forearm and asked, "You sure, R?" The brutish armadillo only nodded.

"Okay," Monroe decided, clapping her hands together before continuing, "Everyone's got their roles. Just make sure to grab pictures from four different angles so we can each use them for the credit."

As his mind cleared and returned to the present, he was reminded of the girls' behavior at Ryder's mention of going underground. He didn't seem apprehensive or frightened, but then again no one suspected his fear of Beowolves until he was half-dead in a field needing to be rescued. His pale eyes turned back to his friend as he slept.

They'd just entered the narrow of the cave when the Creeps came burrowing out of the walls. He didn't have time to even activate his semblance before the ceiling was caving in. If Ryder hadn't thrown himself over top of him, he'd have surely been crushed. Unfortunately, the scaled faunus hadn't been so lucky. Just as the tremor was dying down, a rock struck him in the back of the head and knocked him unconscious... His aura must have broken or gotten too close to it from the debris without Haddy noticing.

He cursed himself briefly for having to be saved, again, before he sighed. At least that meant that he had people who cared about him. As if on cue, Ryder started to rouse as a soft groan echoed through his chest. Immediately, Hadrian stopped, looking back at his friend as he lowered him to the ground. As he leaned back against the cold, damp cave wall, Ryder rubbed his head.

"Wha' happ'n'd?" The armadillo asked, his faunus eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light.

Haddy sat down indian-style in front of him, propping his elbows up on his knees as he finally took the light from his mouth. He worked his sore jaw for a moment before answering, "The Creeps took out the structural support and caused a cave-in. I think we fell down a level or two."

Ryder sighed and leaned his head back so that it rested against the stone wall as he stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Haddy examined his expression as the same emotionless look stained Ryder's face. After a moment, the armadillo faunus stood up and offered his partner a hand. With a half-frown, the husky joined him.

Without much more, Ryder headed off in the same direction Hadrian had been heading while he was unconscious. Quickly, the husky joined him, shining the light from his scroll ahead in the cave. He watched as Ryder silently examined the cave walls while walking down the claustrophobic corridor. He almost had to lean down so that his head didn't scrape against the jagged ceiling.

Against his better judgment, Haddy swung his arms back and forth awkwardly and slowly drew out, "So... Ryder..."

The scaled faunus glanced back at him, wordlessly signaling that he was paying attention. Hadrian instinctively looked away as he rubbed the back of his neck and continued, "Uh, 'Roe and Rob seemed... kinda... hesitant about you coming down here..." The husky swallowed hard as Ryder remained quiet.

After a moment, he shrugged and turned back forward, explaining, "Yeah..." Ryder briefly paused before sighing, "My paren's died in'a dust mine when I w's a kid."

Great freaking job, Hadrian.

"Oh," he replied with a squeak in his voice, "I'm, uh, sorry to hear that..."

"I's all good, man. Not'chur fault..." Ryder answered solemnly, continuing to lead them through the cave system.

The pair of boys walked in silence for a few minutes, Hadrian too afraid of bringing up any more awkward topics of conversation and Ryder being his usual, quiet self. However, being left alone with his thoughts brought another question to Haddy's mind. He waited another moment or so before he took a deep breath and tested the waters again.

"You're from Menagerie, right?" He asked. When Ryder nodded in response, the husky quietly remarked, "There, um... aren't any dust mines in Menagerie..."

"Tha's right..." the armadillo replied after a moment, still not turning around to face his friend.

Hadrian was more than willing to let it go, but after a moment Ryder took a deep breath and sighed, "I grew up 'n Menagerie, but I w's born 'n Mantle, like you..."

The husky swallowed the lump in his throat as Ryder came to a stop and leaned back against the cave wall while he crossed his arms.

Haddy halted as well and listened as his quiet friend explained, "My folks weren't 's bad off 's alot'a tha people down 'n Mantle, but'cha know... i's still no Atlas...

"When I w's born, they both start'd workin' f'r tha Schnee Dust Comp'ny. Got trap't in'a cave-in. Coron'r said they prolly died as'a result'a tha residu'l dust 'xplodin'. I don't rememb'r nuthin' 'bout 'em, 'cause I's sent t' live with my uncles 'n Menagerie right aft'r. I w's two."

With a sigh and shrug, Ryder finished, "So, y'know... Cade an' Robby 're less th'n happy when I 'ave ta go und'rgroun'..."

Hadrian listened intently, hanging on every word until he was done. After a minute to collect himself, Haddy asked, "And you're not?"

Again, Ryder only shrugged before replying, "Not really... d'dn't kill me, so I ain't worried."

"That's..." Hadrian started, unable to find the right word.

"Morb'd?" The scaled faunus chuckled. Haddy could only slowly nod in response, so Ryder continued, "Y'know, if ya worry 'bout ev'ry lil' thin' that happ'n'd t' ev'ryone, you'd b' scar'd'a ev'rythin'. Sometime's ya jus' gotta leave tha past 'n tha past or it'll drag ya down in tha pres'nt..."

Something about that struck a chord in Hadrian. Honestly, it reminded him a lot of some of the wisdoms that Tadashi used to tell him and his team in bleak moments. Tall, kind-hearted, stoic, and quiet... he could see the similarities between the two. They could have been great friends in another life. Ironically, they would have had a lot to talk about.

As the boys' short break came to an end, Ryder pushed himself off the wall and motioned for Haddy to follow him. They followed the light from their scrolls through the damp cave system. They were walking on an incline, so it was assumed they were headed back towards the surface. After about another ten minutes of silence, Haddy couldn't take it anymore.

"Why'd you wanna be a Huntsman anyway?" He asked curiously.

They were walking side-by-side at this point, so Hadrian could clearly see the smirk and cocked eyebrow as Ryder smiled, "It w's eith'r th's 'r a dust mine."

The husky laughed, "Oh, so you've got jokes now?"

"Figur'd s'nce I told ya my 'trag'c backstory', I'd light'n up," Ryder replied, still smirking.

Hadrian chuckled as the armadillo elaborated, "I dunno, really. Just seem'd like tha right thin' ta do. I'm strong, an' I'm able t' prot'ct people. So... Huntsm'n Acad'my 't was..." Ryder paused as he looked down at the fluffy-tailed faunus and asked, "What 'bout you?"

"Well..." the husky started, rubbing the back of his neck, "I had this exaggerated idea of what being a Huntsman was as a kid. I thought it was all adventure, glory, and money... and growing up with nothing... well, it just seemed like a dream come true. Honestly though..."

He paused, shaking his head before solemnly repeating, "It really was either this or a dust mine..."

Ryder silently listened as he continued, "Leon-- my brother-- and I crafted our weapons based on designs that our dad left behind before he disappeared doing the job. We didn't use them to fight grimm so much as to hunt and keep our mom fed. We would sell the pelts for more ammunition, but after that we weren't left with much... if any. It wasn't going to work in the long run.

"So, I decided that I was going to apply to Atlas Academy's first-- and only-- Faunus Outreach Program. Leo did too. We were the only two who actually applied through the program. Guess no one else thought they were being serious. We were awarded scholarships and placed on an all-faunus team with the only other faunus in our year; both of whom got in through legitimate-- albeit a little back-handed-- means. Together we were four of the six total faunus enrolled at Atlas Academy.

"If we hadn't signed up, we'd both be at the bottom of a dust mine right now..." Hadrian sighed, finishing his long-winded rant. After a moment he glanced up to see Ryder looking down at him intently, so he quickly added, "Uh, sorry. I didn't mean to carry on like that..."

With a half-smile, the scaled faunus raised a hand up to stop him as he replied, "Don't worry... I like ta list'n."

Somehow, that wasn't surprising. After another few quiet minutes of spelunking, the pair came into a wide, open cavern. There were three, rocky columns holding up the ceiling where stalactites hung and dripped water into a shallow puddle in the base of the cave. It was dark, but light flooded into the hollow from an opening collapsed in the roof. The boys could see the beginning of the evening sky between thick tree trunks and the emerald canopy. The only problem was that their escape was about twenty feet up.

"Well... we can get out through there... if we can make it..." Haddy frowned as he rubbed the back of his head.

The faunus had to slide down a small dip to reach the bottom of the cavern. As their feet splashed into the ankle-deep water, a familiar rumbling started to shake the walls. Before they could arm themselves, Creeps began to burrow into the underground room by the tens. Instantly, Ryder and Hadrian fell back-to-back as they pulled out their weapons. The husky nimbly leaned around his partner, sniping the entering grimm, as the armadillo shifted Allegheny into its minigun form and sprayed down any that got close.

They were quickly overwhelmed though, forcing the boys to switch to melee combat. Ryder swung the extended barrel of his gun up, smacking a Creep on the underside of its jaw and sending it flying, as he transferred it back into its warhammer form. Continuing with his momentum from the swing, he whipped around and smashed into three of the grimm that had tried to take him from behind. As he spun around, the dark-skinned faunus swept downward in an over-head arch, crushing one of the Creeps beneath the face of Allegheny.

Beside him, the husky faunus spryly limboed under the handle of the warhammer before he sunk his picks into the head of an approaching subterranean monster that was poised to attack his partner from behind. He twirled around, flinging the body of the grimm into an approaching hoard, sending them staggering back. Quickly, Haddy jumped up, flipping in the air and using Ryder's shoulder for support before falling into a roll to protect the armadillo's back.

As a Creep crept up from behind and charged, Haddy's instincts kicked in. Just as the grimm came into range, the husky whipped around-- putting all his strength into his riposte-- and met its armored maw with the tip of his ice pick. The black skin of the subterranean monster reverberated with shock waves as it shot backwards and turned to goop. He didn't know he had that in him.

The grimm kept coming though, pouring out of the tunnels they had already dug out. After a few minutes, Hadrian stumbled back into Ryder, who was breathing heavily. He could see the golden specks of the dark-skinned faunus's aura starting to falter. Haddy himself was starting to get a little winded. They needed a new strategy.

Ryder seemed to have the same idea as he asked, "Cant'chu use y'ur sembl'nce ta zip 'round an' t'ke these thin's out fr'm b'h'nd?"

"No," he answered, redirecting a jumping attack from another Creep, "The water is going to put up too much resistance. It'll be like trying to run in three-and-a-half feet of snow."

With a huff, Ryder nodded, bringing his hammer down on another pair of approaching grimm. That did give Hadrian an idea though as his eyes drifted down to the water where his feet shifted in the dark, murky liquid. As the cogs turned in his head, the husky leapt into the air to avoid a sweeping tail attack from one of the grimm. When he landed, and planted his pick firmly behind the thick plating of the Creep's armored hide, his plan came together.

"Ryder!" he shouted, gathering his fellow faunus's attention before he explained, "If you can use some dust to freeze the water and trap the grimm that are already in here, I can close up the tunnels. That should give us enough time to climb out of here."

With a smirk, Ryder gave him a thumbs-up as he shifted Allegheny back into its gun form, whacking another Creep on his way. He reached deep into his pocket and pulled out a large dust cartridge, snapping it into the underside of the minigun. Hadrian had just enough time to jump up and sink one of his picks into a column before the armadillo opened fire. Suddenly, hundreds of icy shards were pelting into the water and freezing it solid. The bipedal grimm didn't have time to react as they were stuck in the ice.

Haddy didn't have a lot of time to close off the tunnels before they would be flooded with more Creeps. He checked his dwindling dust supplies with a heavy heart as he pulled several of the cartridges out. There were five tunnels total, so he'd have to exhaust pretty much everything he had. In an instant, he assembled Sleigh into its rifle and pushed in the first magazine of dust.

He shot his remaining two ice containers, his last two earth, and had to get creative with his incendiary shot to collapse the final tunnel. With each discharge, he flicked the guard of his rifle down and reloaded with another set of elemental ammunition. When he was done, he lowered Sleigh and waited to see if his plan had worked. When nothing happened, Hadrian breathed a sigh of relief.

When he turned to look for his partner, he watched as Ryder took the last picture needed for their extra credit. In all honesty, Haddy had completely forgotten about the reason they were even in the cave. The scaled faunus smiled as he awkwardly tried to slide towards his friend on the ice. With a chuckle, Haddy clicked his heels together and allowed a set of thin blades to jut out from the soles of his boots, transforming them into crampons.

Ryder watched with an interested gleam in his eyes as Hadrian hiked over to him and took an arm to help guide him towards their exit. Before they made it to the base of the rocky wall, the armadillo remarked, "Ya got any more Atlas trink'ts ya wanna show me?"

With a devious smirk, Haddy replied, "Not right now."

It didn't take nearly as long to climb out of the cavern as they'd originally thought it would. That didn't stop them from only making by the skin of their teeth though. As soon as Ryder pulled himself through the cave entrance, the shaking started back up and new tunnels were drilled into the cavern. The pair watched as even more Creeps flooded the hollow expanse they'd just been trapped in.

The faunus exchanged a glance before they laughed and shared a celebratory fist bump.

Hadrian started walking back towards Vale when Ryder initiated a conversation for the first time since they'd met, "Uh, Haddy?"

"Yeah?" the husky replied, turning back to see that the scaled faunus hadn't moved yet. He stopped with a confused look on his face.

Ryder sighed as he remarked, "Ya said sumthin' 'bout a scholarsh'p back 'n Atlas?"

Oh, he did not like where this was going. Hadrian rubbed the back of his neck as he quietly answered, "Uh, yeah."

"An' y'ur family not havin' alot'a money," the armadillo continued.

"Yeah..."

"Then... how're ya affordin' all tha expenses of bein' a Huntsm'n-'n-trainin'? Like ammo, dust, an' repairs?"

Haddy turned away as he nervously laughed back, "Well, uh... I'm not?"

Ryder frowned as he closed the distance between them and crossed his scaled arms. Quickly, the husky clarified, "I'm looking for a part-time gig though. I figure there's enough stores in Vale that could be looking for an extra set of hands."

The dark-skinned faunus was quiet for a long time before he rolled his eyes with a half-smile and clapped a strong hand on Hadrian's shoulder. With a chuckle, he said, "I got a buddy who owns a stall in tha market. He us'lly works week'nds. 'E could use tha help."

With a half-hearted smile, Haddy shrugged, "I dunno, man. I'd rather find something without any help."

Ryder laughed as he wrapped his arm around Hadrian's shoulders and the pair started back towards the city, "Tha great thin' 'bout havin' frien's is that they're gonna help no matt'r what..."

[ratatatastic]

"...where everybody is...except for-little bit further for barky but it's good for me!" you can tell matthew has never stopped chirping sasha for living in boca (most of the sane guys chose places in ft lauderdale) which is a good half hour drive away from both amerant bank and the iceplex and those etas are sans traffic! the i-95 gets so congested i cant imagine what the drive is like when its rush hour lmaoooo yeah sasha deserves to be chirped to hell and back for choosing boca raton of all places and yeah no wonder this guys got a lead foot on the pedal huh

the fond little smile like oh here he goes again he does this all the time and matthews cheesy little proud grin "yes i do give you grief over this! its not the first time and it wont be the last time! i will keep doing it until you move closer to me!!"

HAPPY RAT ALERT! hes certified in the art of subtly that is if you chirp your captain enough maybe he will listen to the hints youre dropping and will in fact not live so far away maybe he will move into your house

the old married couple are doing old married things

"barky are you going to move closer to the facility?"our beat has to have their fun too and if it makes sasha smile then i can allow it! yes thats it bully him into moving closer!!!

edmonton oilers @ florida panthers game 5 post practise interview | 6.18.24 (x)

[transguyhawkeye]

its way too late to do a full analysis rn but i feel like hardwons arc in campaign 1 fits really perfectly into the four seasons:

summer -> early campaign, bravado and hubris, energy

fall -> crick arc onwards, new wisdom and change

winter -> vampire arc, death and isolation

spring -> reincarnation, rebirth and renewed vigor

[wetslug]

to b quite honest ive never dated bc im not a fun person to be around. The Sad But Sorry Truth Is I Was Made To Be A Sometimes Blogger Online

[stackslip]

[grampacory]

He’s literally me

Been thinkin about the sea recently

[pupmusebox]

Tag dump 6/?

{ First Brother and Avatar of Pride - Lucifer } { Second Brother and Avatar of Greed - Mammon } { Third Brother and Avatar of Envy - Leviathan } { Fourth Brother and Avatar of Wrath - Satan } { Fifth Brother and Avatar of Lust - Asmodeus } { Sixth Brother and Avatar of Gluttony - Beelzebub } { Seventh Brother and Avatar of Sloth - Belphegor } { Human Exchange Student Among Demons - Yuki/Male!MC } { Royal Demon and Future King of Devildom - Lord Diavolo } { Loyal and Impeccable Demon Butler - Barbatos } { Powerful and Immortal Sorcerer - Solomon } { Calm and Serious Archangel - Simeon } { Quiet Spear Wielding Seraphim - Raphael } { Reaper and Caretaker of Life Candles - Thirteen } { Young Devil Bird of a Son - Lucius } { Playful Half Demon and Prideful Bird - Dante } { Royal Heir and Half Demon Dragon - Caius } { Crafty Bird of a Half Demon and Fae - Mael } { Mystery Demon of a Moth Pet - Samuel } { Warm Heart of Royal Dragon - Silas } { Sharp Witted Bird of Pride - Ignatius } { Noble Demon of Wickedness - Belial } { Shepherding Archangel of Justice - Raguel } { King of Knights - Arthur Pendragon } { Solitude Psychic of a Legendary - Vero/Mewtwo } { Tech Talented Alibaba and Oracle - Futaba Sakura } { Team Rocket Boss and Former Gym Leader - Giovanni } { Cold Eyed Rocket Executive - Archer } { Team Rocket's Master of Disguise - Petrel } { Team Magma's Boss - Maxie }

[jadeannbyrne]

Behind the Cold Door: The Walk-In Cooler as Food Service’s Emotional Sanctuary

Absolutely! In the world of food service, the walk-in cooler is more than just a storage space—it’s an unofficial sanctuary where pressures simmer down and raw emotions often bubble up. It’s the behind-the-scenes confessional where stainless steel walls have absorbed more than just the cold; they’ve witnessed the spectrum of human emotions from exasperation to moments of unexpected…

[hierneneuro]

I was not fully expecting tears of the kingdom to be as fun as it is

[vifilms]

≛ THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE!

❝ ABBY!CENTRIC ONE SHOT ❞

♪ ˚. THE BRAT CHALLENGE ♱ ⋆.˚

feat. drummer!abby x fem!reader x footballplayer!ellie

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: switch!abby (kinda), jealousy, cheating, abby’s pierced nipples, reader desc. feminine, fingering, munch activities, toxicity ensuing, voyerisum, strap sex.

THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE, ellie williams, sporting 88’ on the back of her jersey, the world renowned football player from the united states. the overly competitive blood runs through her veins, passed down from her father, just as well as an overpowering ego the size of texas. she has the girl of her dreams, the most important game of her life in sight, but what happens when one drummer threatens to wreck it all?

wc. 10k

It’s easy to feel safe and comfortable with her, slipping into a simple life. Traveling the world with your favorite soccer player, the auburn-haired five-foot-five of pure talent, as soon as her custom cleats step foot on the field. 

When the crowd echoes chants of her name, the rumbling of the rowdy fans, aggressive shouts cursing the other team. With crushed beer cans, sunflower seeds are spat on the ground, and they are begging for a goal. The 88’ jersey was littered across the stands. Every fan in the arena went to see her, yet you aren’t here. 

It was one of the biggest games of her career, and you would not be seen anywhere, especially after the past week. She doesn’t blame you; Ellie could only blame herself but needs her good luck charm. The events replaying in her mind, haunting her while she tries to get one wink of sleep, but the look of horror in your eyes, the shoulder check you left her with, green eyes pleading to reason with her, but you refused. 

Let me know when you want to grow the fuck up and tell me what’s wrong with you. 

The words running in her mind, haunting her as she sleeps at night, wondering if today is the day the stone will be unturned or if she’ll actually tell you everything bothering her. But she doesn’t. Never had she seen you like it; rage carries higher than the waves of a tsunami, and all of it, every drop of water, seems to be crashing over her. 

Every drop of it suffocates her until there is no oxygen left to breathe. 

When she gets home, she scours the apartment for a trace of you, yet half of your belongings are absent. Ellie starts to wonder if she’s pushed you too far this time. Always, she’s betted on you sticking around through thick and thin but maybe you finally had enough. 

Has she pushed you too far? Are you too far out of reach? She has no choice but to let you drown with the devil itself, succumbing to your own needs for once, not hers. 

The side of the closet holding your belongings was in disarray. Ellie could see that your favorite belongings were absent. All the sweaters, hoodies, hell, even the flannels you would steal from her were meticulously folded and placed in the corner. 

Ellie thought you would give her the benefit of the doubt. She thought you would let her explain why she had taken the job offer without consoling you. Now, considering what she seems to be losing, there’s nothing she wishes for more than to take it all back. 

Any success is so trivial if she has no one to celebrate it with, not without you. 

From the very start, you’ve been right there by her side. From the very beginning, it wasn’t as picture-perfect as she imagined. The fairytale began with what she thought would be a never-ending love story. 

Something so pure, it could never turn rotten. 

—

Growing up on the outskirts of New York had its perks. The small town was busy, yet the countryside tucked an hour away gave you a sense of solitude. Entirely predictable suburbs, the cul-de-sac tucked in the back of the neighborhood reeks of disturbed suburbia. 

Everyone knew everyone, and you knew Ellie. 

You were ten the day the two of you became friends, and you’ll never forget it. Clumsily, you had just fallen off your bike, knees skidding by the concrete as the skin had been peeled, the wound viciously open. 

“Did you fall—” the girl shakes her head at herself, curses flying into the wind. “Of course you did. God, so stupid.” 

She continues talking to herself as you weep slightly in a pathetic manner. Affectionately, the mysterious girl who also happens to be riding her bike past the park in your neighborhood pats you gently on the shoulder. 

“I'll be right back. Stay there. I'll be back. Promise.” 

She disappears on her blue and red bike, red hair flying in any direction the wind takes, but returns just like she said — a girl of her word. 

“Here, let me fix you.” She grabs the first-aid kid from the bucket on her bike. Ellie kneels on the ground. You notice her bright blue Converse with red laces, which match her bicycle perfectly. 

“Yeah, okay—” you sniffle, wiping away your tears as the nice girl tends to your knee. “Thanks.”

She grabs the needed tools, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Well, I used to fix my dad all the time. He's a soccer player and gets hurt a lot. 

You stay silent as she rambles on. 

“One day, going to be just like him, but better. My old man got too old before he decided to be good. I'm going to be the best player ever.” 

“I bet you will be.” your eyes find hers, the sun making them shine like an emerald diamond, just like the one your mom wears on her ring finger. 

“My coach says I'm good already but tells me not to get my hopes up.” 

You realize Ellie has already cleaned your wound; her small hand applies pressure with the gauze as he wraps it away. She's so concentrated but simultaneously rambles away about her dad, the last soccer game she played in, and jokes to get your mind off the pain. 

“How does it feel?” Ellie asks, the corner of her lip upturns, a soft smile gracing her freckled, full cheeks. 

“Better,” you thank her, smiling shyly. She observes you as you hop back on your bike, ensuring you aren't in pain. Curiously, her mind drifts to how cute you are, and she wonders why her stomach is in complete knots. 

She confuses it for sickness. 

“You’re welcome.” Ellie stretches the nape of her neck, and her short hair sticks to her skin from the heat. “I'm Ellie, by the way.” 

“I know.” You offer your name as Ellie blushes, her cheeks tinted pink. The love you feel is etched right into her heart, and she feels it from the first moment your name is said. 

In a cliche, obvious way, the rest was history. 

The two of you were best friends until college, bringing out the best in you—platonic love blossoming into something sweet, a one-in-a-million love you can only hope to find in someone else. 

The tricky thing? It works. The two of you fit better than you could have ever dreamed of. The incredible bliss of youth leaves your faith blinded, corrupted by the true love you have for Ellie. Oblivious to flaws, all you see is her. Assuring you follow her around like a lost puppy; anything she wants, she gets. The skeletons in the closet are no match for the two of you, each being dragged out one by one. 

But not by either of you. 

— 

One Week earlier…

“Would you stop so we can talk about this?” Ellie nearly shouts at you, granting her another eye roll, she’s lost count on how many you’ve thrown at her since the two of you left the club. The longing looks, her wandering olive eyes on someone else all night, gawking at the muscles, making you feel envious of someone you couldn’t have. 

Your girlfriend’s attention. 

But this is all your fault, right? 

“Talk about what? How you, Ellie, made a decision to make a life altering decision without me? Yeah, okay, let’s fucking talk.” You have a bite in your voice, one Ellie has rarely heard, the sweetness diluted with her consistent need to keep you in the dark. “Fucking talk, please. I’d love to hear the bullshit excuse you’re gonna give me.” 

“Why are you making this a big deal? It’s my career, not yours.” You bite your tongue as the words leave your mouth. Instantly, you feel burned by the person who thought loved you more than anything. Even in the heat of the moment, you figured she would give you the benefit of the doubt, even when you’ve been blind sided by her teammates. All because she was too much of a coward to tell what she’s already done. “Right. Foolish of me to think we’re a team.” 

Spitefully, you throw your belongings in your tote, ignoring when she tries to grab your wrist, dodging her quickly. She tries again but stops when you tell her to. The only boundary she leaves untouched it seems. 

“We are a team.” Ellie tries to convince you, but you don’t budge. Not an inch of you believes the shit she’s spewing at you. 

“Oh! Well, that’s a surprise to me. If we’re such a team, why don’t you tell me why you won’t have sex with me….for eight months?” You raise your eyebrows at her, giving her an opportunity to speak but she stays silent like she always does. “If we’re such a team, why did you accept a job offer on another continent without even giving me the respect to tell me about it before you accepted the offer?” 

Ellie stays silent, finding the hardwood beneath her feet more interesting. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

You change into something more comfortable, slamming the bathroom door shut as you do, gathering other toiletries, different necessities you would need for the next few weeks. 

You find her sitting on the edge of the bed in tears, as much as you want to hug her and give her the comfort she probably needs, there’s no good will in your heart. As much as you love her, only the boiling anger can be found. Blistering frustration, the one someone has when their girlfriend won’t touch them, kiss them, or even warrant them the truth. 

“I love you, okay? I just need to figure some things out.” Ellie pouts, eyebrows furrowed as she says enough to get you to look at her. She sees the tears threatening to spill over, but you won’t let them fall in front of her. Never have you liked crying in front of others. Just as if she was anyone else, you would wait until you were in private to lick your wounds. “I just need some time, I just don’t know what’s happening to me.” 

But all sincerity is lost, all you see in front of you is lies and deceit. Someone backed in the corner with no way to manipulate their way out. 

“Well…figure your shit out, Els. Right now? It doesn’t seem like you do.” You grab your bags, slipping your shoes on, “I’ve had enough for now. Let me know when you grow the fuck up and let me know what’s wrong with you.” 

— 

Still, your blood boiled from last week’s exchange, the venomous words crawling up your throat like bile, as if this wasn’t what she wanted, what she started. All of this had been her idea. 

Time and time again, dismissive words found their way into your heart, making a home before you had enough time to catch them. Sure, committed and faithful, she says. Then, she does this, makes your decisions without consulting you, and scolds you for getting upset about it. You craved space, so you did what any rational person would. 

Swiftly packed your bags and flew to the other side of the country. 

The fresh feeling is still swarming through your head, and the lingering words are aimed at your heart with more impact than you could stand. When they were told, Ellie regretted them the second they left her heart-shaped lips. Yet she stands there as she analyzes your tense frame, avoiding her at all costs. 

You leave her with a soft murmur: staying at a friend’s. What you neglect to mention is that your friend lives on the other side of the country, tucked away in the safety of New York. Luckily, the nightlife is an easy distraction and does its job. 

Intentionally, the first few nights are spent drowning yourself in liquor, letting yourself be grinded on by other drunk girls until they buy you shots, walking up back in your hotel room alone — then the cycle repeats. 

The tranquility of a life forgotten, the gift of Don Julio, so like anyone else, you chase it. The drinks are free, the girls flirting with you are prettier than you’d ever seen but maybe that’s just the loneliness eating you up from the inside out. Yet, you find yourself itching to venture beneath, allow yourself to drown in someone else. Was there black lace? Possibly white or navy green boxers underneath? But you couldn’t, and you won’t. The guilt would eat you alive. 

You told yourself it was just a fight, but was it? It’s when the second thought seeped in, invading the pessimistic part of your brain and feeding into malicious tendencies. Maybe you do want this? Something new? 

Someone who wasn’t Ellie. 

The thought alone sends shivers down your spine; an agonizing dread fills you. Never had you ever been provoked to leave, but the longer the silence welcomes you with open arms, the more the affliction lingers. 

No text. No calls. No voicemails. Nothing.  

Part of you ached for resolution. Even if it meant a means to an end, you could somehow soothe the aching in your chest. On the seventh day, she reached out. 

A lazy effort of a text — couldn’t even be bothered to call. 

elsbaby: can we talk, baby? please. 

Perhaps if it had been the day after, two, three, even four — you would have the compassion to empathize. When she comes crying a week later after she spewed the most severe insults you’ve ever heard come out of her mouth? Any need to reconnect has dissipated at the drop of a hat. 

this is what you wanted. 

It shouldn’t make you spiral, but it does. You end up at a show; a rock band takes center stage at The Wolfhouse, and upcoming musicians try to make a name for themselves. Sitting at the bar, letting the vibrations of the base and the thumping of the snare drum infiltrate 

Solemnly tapping the beat of your healed boot to the beat of the drum, you take in the singer on the stage. Black raven-haired beauty with a prominent nose and beautiful lips. She made the stage her own as she worked every angle known to man. 

A firm belief is settled in your heart and everyone in there. She was born to be up there. You were too entranced, enjoying the music too much along with the cocktail in your hand, and you didn’t even notice the blonde making her way up to you. 

As soon as you felt someone next to you, the first thought in your mind was how hellbent you were to be left alone. Even if it physically put you in distress, fuck, you couldn’t even remember the last time Ellie and you went on a date. The last time she touched you, kissed you, fucked you within an inch of your life. 

It’s a pathetic, good for nothing excuse. 

The line of morality blurs whenever your eyes latch onto eyes so gray the blue almost fades into them. Gorgeous freckles scattered across her smooth cheeks like twinkling stars in the galaxy. 

Slowly, she takes your figure in, examining you up and down before smirking. She says nothing to you as she orders a neat whiskey. She hands her silver credit card to the bartender, “and whatever she wants for the rest of the night.” 

You think for a moment she’ll talk to you, but she winks before settling into a booth with four others who look oddly familiar. The rest of the night, you’re met with tranquility and the steady and skilled bump of the bass guitar. It reminded me of when you were young, ambitions were the only thing on your mind, and you were lost in the never-ending need to be someone. It’s when you still believe something is worth living for, more than beating your drum to someone else’s tune. 

You sipped on three Mexican martinis throughout the night and got lost when you walked up to the bar. The beefy, muscular blonde was there to greet you. This time, you got a clear look at her. Her rugged and toned frame shows off her commitment to the gym. 

Yet, her deep blue pools are more charming than you would like to admit. A delicate edge to her jawline pulls you in as you admire the septum ring decorating her freckled nose, the bump in her nose making you smile softly. 

You’ve always loved a girl with an intense nose for many reasons. 

Mouth-watering, luscious, bliss - are all the words coming into mind when you’re looking at her. She’s wearing as little clothing as you would expect someone who leans masculine to wear, but fuck does she know it works for her. Black leather vest worn in, eating you up from the inside out, the musky scent filled with mahogany and a dash of vanilla. 

The mysterious blonde's lack of undershirt adorns her body and steals the show. Immediately, she commands attention in every conceivable way. As mesmerizing as the raven-haired beauty appears, you would pay a lot to see her front and center on that stage. The shape of her small breasts is the real show in your mind, and the broad and toned torso gives you much to gawk at. 

Nearly, you salivate at the defined four-pack she’s sporting. A pretty enticing deep v disappears delectably into her black leather pants as if she’s a modern-day adonis but with divine feminine written all over her. Without one doubt in the world, she knows she’s the hottest piece of ass in this bar, and for some unknown reason, she’s made you her target for the night. Wined and dined you all night without saying more than a sentence to you, and it seems she’s here to collect. 

In the forefront of your mind, you believe it’s to serve some self-serving action to get off from what’s between your thighs, the sweet treat every girl has chased in this long week, but your long-term commitment tying you down like handcuffs to the post of your bed Ellie has kept you in. 

Petrifying you to your bones, you aren’t sure what to make of the thrill building up; you can’t deny the longer you look at her, the more your thighs rub together in sync with the other. 

“So—” With her tall stature, decisively, she steps forward, lips pressing against your ear with her hot breath seeping under your skin, “Are you wet because you know who I am or because you can’t stop looking at my tits?” 

“Who are you?” Your eyebrows quirked up, and you wondered why it was a factor. Was she someone you were supposed to know? Now that she said something, there was something familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. “Why would I have any idea who you are?” 

Though your pussy has a heartbeat and seems to have a mind of its own. You forget about everything else when the woman gives you a toothy grin, which is too perfect. 

“That’s cute, but see, everyone knows who I am—” Abby takes matters into her own hands and begins to nibble on the side of your neck, harshly biting and sucking lightly, taking in the taste of your skin as if she’s trying to find the perfect vein to puncture with her pointy canines. If it were the case, you’d let her suck the life out of you if you got to keep her to yourself for the night. “Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll know by the end of the night.” 

She’s passionately driven when her skilled lips and velvet tongue continue to make a mark on you as if you are hers to own, hers to please as she sees fit. You don’t even know her name, but the raging storm of lust isolates you within her honey trap. All of it feels too finite, everlasting, even if it’s just solid concrete to stand on for the night. 

Then, you remember Ellie. The longing text sent to you, not even a call. The love of your life, or so you’d always hoped, couldn’t be bothered to call you this entire week. The fallout of an inconceivable aftermath only now did she try to reach out. 

“Tell me why you’re soaking wet, baby girl.” 

You try to push her back, but she doesn’t even move; her frame is too strong. Now, your warm, firm hand places itself on her defined abdomen, pressing against the clearly defined muscles. 

You can’t deny how flushed you’ve become. 

This time you are drooling; her thumb wipes away the liquid before she sucks it back into her mouth. Her grin is even more wicked, knowing she has you right where she wants to be. 

It’s when you notice the mirrored scorpions, one on either side, her muscular biceps littered with tattoos, and the front of her neck — practically having fuck me written all over her. 

You should leave. 

You fucking should. 

She has an appetite for something else, pulling you by the waistband of your pants, her finger securely wrapped around the belt buckle. Pelvis to pelvis, grinding against you swiftly to see how much you move, and the smile she’s wearing is satisfying enough. 

She’s always liked them needy, messy, and so damn right horny they’re putty in her extensive and capable hands. 

“I’m waiting.” Her hunger is evident in her tone. She is ready to relish her sudden craving, at least to you. 

“I-I don’t even know your name,” you confess, hoping it will steer her away from you, but it’s a pathetic attempt. 

“Abby. What else is your concern, babygirl?” Her knee sneaks between your legs, applying pressure to your cunt. 

“I—” Almost with a soft thrust of her knee, Abby pushes against your cunt, damping her leather with a fucking desirable slick she’s dying to taste. Although it’s clear you like the chase, she gives it. 

Had you had sex in the past eight months, you might have pushed away the overly cocky specimen, but it has been that long. Only making the patch in your panties grow as she teases your pussy. 

Abby’s frame blocks anyone from seeing what she’s doing to you, your skirt riding up so much she can see the rounded cheeks slipping out, the black fabric slightly exposed under the bar's dim light. The more she presses, the faster your hips move against her. 

Without a care in the world, you slid so far back, and you’re on her thigh, strong arms wrapped around you, whispering filthy nothings in your ear as you get yourself off on the stranger’s muscular body. If the bartender notices, she doesn’t mind. Pretends like you’re not even there. You’re not sure which is more embarrassing. 

“Fuck, move those hips. Just like that, yeah.” 

The high, the one you’ve wanted from your girlfriend who doesn’t even want to touch you, is so close. There’s a burn in your throat infused by sheer guilt that someone else will bring you to head. Some stranger you don’t know, one handsome stranger, yet when she pushes your panties to the side and thumbs your clit it’s so challenging to care about anyone but yourself. 

You moan her name as she touches you, a skilled touch as she lightly pinches and soothes the sensitive bud. She completely enraptured you with the light touch she had to offer. Terrifyingly so, it shouldn’t affect you the way it does. 

The look in her eyes would have sent you reeling. Her musky scent is already doing enough for you. You find yourself tangled in the webs of honeydew, suckling until you’ve had enough of the sweet sensation. 

You’re just not sure how long it’ll be until you do. 

“God, acting like you haven’t been fucked, baby. Such a dirty slut letting me do….well, whatever I want.” 

Abby uses her free, dominant hand to guide your hips at a pace she sees fit. A thrill shoots down her spine as your incessant need grows like a flower at the dawn of spring—a tiny seed that is useless unless it bears root flourishing from where it’s planted. 

“So, what’s it going to be?” Abby questions. A glimmer of assurance fills her ocean eyes. She was playfully biting your exposed shoulder blade. 

“I can get you off right here, or you can come home with me.” the incredible sensation of her pierced muscling punching your skin with a chill, the stainless-steel ball adds a new sensation you weren’t expecting. She suckles and bites, marking you the more bruises as if she’s decorative for her enjoyment. “Or both. I think someone is close. I bet you’re ready to spill on my thigh. Wanna give me every last drop like the whore you are.” 

“Your home?” you manage to spit out, trying to ignore the filth she spits, but it only brings you closer to your much-needed euphoric bliss. Abby’s efforts double over as if she’s fucked you before, bouncing her leg as as you ride her thigh, knowing exactly what you need to cum all over her. 

Typically, the thread of your orgasm wouldn’t have been so easy to pull, but it seems she’s the one who placed it there in the first place. Months of not being touched left you in the hands of this Greek god who could make you feel whatever you wished for. 

She’s cocky, confident, and the sexiest woman you’ve ever seen. Yet, the answer is still hard to find. 

“Yeah, angel, my place.” You nod, unable to make a verbal confirmation. 

“Gotta hear you say it.” Just then, the feeling that was bubbling spills over and all over her hand as she cups your cunt, thumb continuing to rub at your puffy clit. 

“Yes, Yes, Yes.” you curse, chants of ecstasy fumble from your loose lips. Carelessly, you’re focused on the intense heartbeat between your legs, your body convulsing against her. 

“What's that? M’not sure if I can wear you over your weeping cunt.” Repeatedly, Abby slaps your cunt as punishment. 

“I-I want to, fuck, shit. Oh god, yes. I want to go home with you.” Your body slumps against her as she holds up your weight, and your high fades. Still, you feel blissful against her touch. Any other worry plaguing your mind dissipates, and all you think is her and strong muscles keeping you upright. 

“Good girl,” she whispers before paying off the tab and putting the lace material pack in place. You feel the white liquid stick to you, filthy, resting against you—the once taintless fabric coated with the pleasures of your sin. Dizzy, unsteady, breathless — it’s everything you feel. 

She thrives on knowing you need her. Even if it’s for tonight, the purpose will be served. Regardless of what she needs, this will be even more of a thrill, and the only thing she uses is her hand—not even her dominant one. 

Abby moves your skirt down so your ass is covered again. “C’mon, pretty girl. let’s see how much of a slut you are." She leads you outside while she makes quick work of her phone, and suddenly, there’s a sleek black car, a Cadillac, you assume, with a driver in tow. The windows are tinted enough for you to wonder if it’s even legal. Silver rims, with a diamond emblem in the center shining so bright under the moonlight that it nearly takes your attention from the woman who has you in her grip. 

“Last chance? I can have her drive you home.” She smirks, knowing you won’t take the out that’s being so generously given. Perfect, beautiful, she thinks, eyes still dilated from you getting off on her thing and the continuous swipe of the pad of her thumb. 

It’s there. The smidge of penance you feel you’re obligated to ask for. Regardless of how amazing it feels, there’s something about the ending. This will be the end of all fuck ups; maybe, there’s still hope for the two of you if you go home. Call Ellie in the morning before the need to suppress the shame. 

But don’t you deserve this one thing for yourself? 

Everything under the sun has been for the auburn-haired beauty who has held your heart from the moment she patched up your bleeding knee. The moment a total stranger managed to win your heart, an adolescent love that knew nothing of the lesson of heartbreak or the years you chased after Ellie while she was chasing others. 

How she let her feelings hover over the friendship of years with no consequence, especially after her long-term high school girlfriend, the one whose heart she broke into a tiny million pieces. Tragically, there still stood an existing fear for you. She was just a kid, but would she move on as quickly now as she did back then? It was as if they meant nothing to her, moving from the next one as if the time spent together had been insignificant, meaningless, just an ease to pass the misery of time. 

You feared you would be the same. 

Falling under the same umbrella, but you hope you are different. There were talks of marriage and settling into the countryside once she could retire. A shared dream, you thought. Perhaps it was a foolish sin to keep close to your heart. 

Then there was Abby, a heavenly distraction from all the dread waiting for you. Everything you must pick back up eventually if you want to stay tucked into the nightlife of New York is just your dreams hanging up on the shelf, totting away with the relationship. An expiration date was labeled on the two of you, and an impending doom you could only fall through. 

Everything was always for her. 

Ellie. Ellie. Ellie. 

“What’s it going to be, princess?” She pulled you towards as she spun you around with ease, back pulled to her chest, her lips kissing your ear. All you could focus on was how strong she felt. Her strong hold bending you to her will wouldn’t be a challenge. If she wanted to, she could do whatever she liked. You are sure no isn’t a word she’s used to hearing. 

But it went further than just how she looks. 

It’s in the way she doesn’t even have to lift a finger to have you hooked on her. It entices you, thinking about how long she’d been staring at you all night. The curve of your ass in your tight, little skirt — was she staring at it? Did she think about all the ways she could fuck your perfect little hole if you would let her do everything she’d been thinking of? The way your hardened nipples poked through your mesh top. If she said anything, you could blame it on the draft, not just her sheer presence making them protrude through the fabric. 

She did no work whatsoever to make you cum, letting you use her to get yourself off. There was an ease to it. One you hadn’t experienced before. 

Here she is, using it against you again. 

“Am I coming in the car with you, or will you rub your clit, alone, wishing you’d let me fuck you in all the ways I’ve been dreaming?” Her hands sneak under the lace, pinching your nipples between her thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way your hips buck up, aching to be touched by her again. 

“Just give in, baby. I know you want to.” Her dominant hand abandons your nipple, leaving the other to tease it. While she escapes underneath your skirt once again, “So wet for me already, huh?” Harshly, she grips your cunt, a finger sliding up your slit, but she’s intentional about not letting it slip in. 

“I-I shouldn’t, shit, oh my g—” You try to think of an excuse, one good enough to convince yourself you should not go through with this. “I really shouldn’t.” 

“And?” Abby’s canines dig into the side of your neck as she teasingly bites the flesh, soothing it with a velvet tongue, making more marks on the side she hadn’t touched tonight. “Are you taken?” 

“That’s a complicated question.” Abby grins at your response with a sinister smirk. 

“Well, if she’s not making you happy, let me do it for her.” Abby tilts your jaw, forcing you to gaze at her. 

“Let me guess, no one has touched this perfect pussy in a long time. So, fucking neglected, huh?” 

“I didn’t say I had a—” 

“It doesn’t matter to me.” Your pussy dripping with shame at her words. 

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You admit. Abby continues to torture you with the split of your slit, the two of you starting to draw attention, but you think it just excites her even more. “I haven’t felt—” 

The moment you say the words, Abby spins you around. You whine at her touch leaving your pussy, but she makes up for it slightly when her hands palm your ass. “Tell me. Look me in my eyes, baby, and tell me what you need. I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.” 

Your hands weave themselves into her golden locks. You are intertwined with the waves that disguise themselves as shimmering waterfalls. But you look down as you try to think of some excuse to leave and make yourself leave with dignity. 

Big mistake. 

The happy trail, the blonde hair travels inside her pants, leaving you in awe underneath the moonlight. Abby’s leather vest pushed off slightly, her tits still covered with black pasties. 

“Why don’t you take them off? Wanna see my pretty tits, baby?” You nod with too much eagerness. Abby chuckles. 

She watches with a smirk as you take them off. The silver, shining barbell has you moan at the sight of them—the sight of her. Smudged black eyeliner makes her appear even more irresistible, hooded eyes gazing at you; a gentle hand finds your throat, applying pressure with her thumb, constraining your breathing slightly. 

“Fuck, they are perfect.” You confess, your eyes gleaming at her pink nipples exposed before meeting with her eyes once again. 

“Yeah, they are, but they would look even better with your pretty lips around them.” 

She will not give up. 

“This is such a bad idea.” Abby knows your mind is made up, and you’ll come home with her. Even if the guilt swarms like a bee to a honey hive, it’s all the same to her. “But, God, you’re so fucking hot.” 

Your hands roam her toned, tattooed torso, the scorpions so delicious you want to outline every detail with your tongue. The thought of being strong has worn off—only the woman before you is on your mind. 

“Well, to me, it seems you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” Fingertips grazing her tits, her nipple hardening underneath you touch. “I’ll let you do whatever you want after I’m done with you. Well, if you still have the energy.” 

A grumbling of frustration leaves your lips — you aren’t sure if it’s a desperate plea, a sigh of relief, or something else entirely. 

“Like what?” You can’t stop touching her breasts, continuing to tease her pink nipple, but you meet her eyes. Abby’s positive you’ve never seen a smirk so wide. 

“What do you like?” Abby pushes your hair back, fuck me eyes looking up at her. The ones that hadn’t left from the moment you laid eyes on her. She leans down just a little so her lips are pressed against your ear, “Do you wanna fuck my ass? Want me to sit on your gorgeous face while you eat me out? Fuck me in front of the mirror and watch my face when I cum?” 

Grabbing your hair, she yanks it. Exposing the expanse of your neck. She’s grown so fond of marking. The slick between her thighs continued to blossom as you let her do whatever the hell she wanted. Like a whimpering bitch in heat, you took everything she had to offer. 

Fuck it. 

You cradle her face with her palms, smashing her lips to yours. It’s all tongue and teeth. Rough palms squeezing your ass, making you grind into her again. Your force casually lets her stumble into the car but you don’t let up. Whimpering and moaning into her mouth like there’s no tomorrow, as if this moment will slip right through your fingers. 

Her breath smells of fresh mint, her tongue casually dominates yours, staking claim to what she already believes to be hers. It’s then you realize your forever doomed because you feel the fluttering in your stomach as she growls in your mouth, animalistic — your pelvis grinding against her much more defined one. 

You pull apart for one moment, unable to take one more moment away from her. 

If you don’t get it, her tongue, her cunt, those pretty fingers decorated in silver jewelry, hell, you would settle for her pierced nipples rubbing against your clit. 

“Abby?” She stops, opening her eyes to see you. You’re even more fucked out than she is. “Yes, baby?” She hums into your mouth, the sweet sensation vibrating your entire body. 

“Let’s stop giving everyone a show and give me one.” Abby nods, the first sign of her eagerness as she opens the door for you, unable to keep her hands off you. 

“We better go before you soak my car then, hm?” She slaps your ass as she leads you in. 

— 

As she has you in tow, hand in yours leading you towards the elevator in her building, the most luxurious one you’ve seen, one so high you’re sure it’s the highest in the skyline of New York City.

 It isn’t surprising she has her own driver, or she lives in the penthouse of the building, even the plaques decorating the wall — a shrine to her evident success. Everything just…makes sense. Yet there’s a pit in your stomach, crawling and feasting. It's swarming within you, a nagging incessant fly buzzing around warning you to run. You don’t have much time to think about how horrible of an idea this is. 

Alone with someone who could easily overpower you, at the mercy of a complete stranger yet when she puts her arms around your waist, all of it seems to melt away. She’s given you no reason not to trust her. You’re just thinking too much. 

That’s all it is. 

The little voice chants in your head, trying to make excuses for yourself as to not go through with this but they dissipate when her calloused palms find home on your waist. Soothing over your delicate skin, enticing you into her impenetrable web. Everything about her intoxicates you. Making every thought vacant your head, even more so when she starts playing with the hem of your skirt. 

“Let me get you a drink.” She kisses your temple before going behind the makeshift bar in the dining room. An assortment of every liquor component known behind her. Part of you thinks she’s doing it for show, the way her biceps flex as she shakes the drink in the silver canister, pointingly making the drink you’d been ordering all night long. 

So, she had been watching you all night. You knew if she wasn’t as hot as she is, you’d be creeped out. But it’s hard to be creeped out when she’s still shirtless, the black leather vest doing very little to cover her. Any time she moves you see her pink pierced nipples, nearly making you salivate. 

With the Mexican martini in her grip, with her own in the other, you’re stuck. You didn’t think she’d actually want to have a conversation with you. Leading you out to the balcony, almost the entire view of the city before your very eyes, practically causing you to freeze in your footsteps. 

“Wow.” Unable to conceal it, you voice your immediate awe. Abby chuckles, the first sign of sincerity you’ve seen all night. Everything else only seemed as a woman trying to get a needed fuck but right now but she hasn’t even tried to even so much as kiss you. Taking small sips of her whiskey, hip touching yours as the moonlight reflects from the water to her blue eyes, nearly as vivid as the moon itself. 

“Yeah, it’s quite a view, think it’s the only thing keeping me coming back here. I’m on the road so much, it’s nice to have some stability.” Abby smiles softly, the confession tumbling from her lips before she can catch it. ”A pretty penny for me to keep it but it’s worth it.” 

“Is this your move then?” You know the martini is doing the talking for you, if not you’d be a mumbling mess unable to form one sentence that even sounds remotely coherent. Abby quirks one of her blonde eyebrows upwards but keeps her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue. “Is this what you do with everyone?” 

Abby takes a step closer to you, giving you all her attention. She plays with the chain on your neck, pulling it lightly to bring you closer to her. Carefully eyeing you up and down, smirking as she does, “Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie like I do with everyone else?” 

It’s more than you expected her to offer. A careless lie would have suited her more. If there is one thing you know for sure, Abby could get anyone she wants and she wouldn’t have brought you here if she didn’t want you to be here. 

“Are you capable of the truth? M’not sure you are.” For once, Abby is a bit silent. Carefully, she contemplates on what to say next. She isn’t sure what she should say. Usually she’s the one laying the honey traps for the swarming bees but right now? Abby feels like the control is slipping from her grip. 

She can’t have that. 

“Which one is going to make that guilt easier on your conscience?” Abby smirks as the shame fills your eyes. “It’s a girlfriend, isn’t it? It always is.” Anyone else would take two steps back, maybe even see themselves out but you want to prove a point. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” The immediate rejection of your very real girlfriend fills you with even more shame than you know what to do with. Abby chuckles at the omission, the way your voice shrieks out the statement with a sense of urgency. A desperate action to cover the truth. “Sure you don’t.” 

“I’m telling the truth!” Your voice raises as you lean into Abby, her firm hands on your waist as you both face each other. Abby nods, tongue poking through her cheek, pulling at your necklace once again. Admiring the curve in the E, the gold chain shining. It’s a pretty necklace, probably one your girlfriend gave you but Abby makes no comment of it. 

“Yeah, okay, and I hate pussy.” Abby giggles. You think it’s so cute, it shouldn’t even be funny, but it is. Just like earlier in the night, you’re so close to her, nothing as slim as a sheet of paper could fit in between the two of you. Without even thinking about it, you rest your hand on her abdomen again, her strength tangible as you feel her up once again. Truly, you’re unable to stop touching her. Every part of you wants this to happen, even if it comes back to bite you in the ass, the curiosity and your fluttering cunt can’t really think of anything else. 

“You can still walk out that door. Just say the word and my driver will take you home.” Abby whispers into the busy street beneath you, it’s so faint from the distance but the two of you can hear it. “Or you can let me slide your pretty little skirt up and let me make a slut of you, babygirl.” 

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it’s your throbbing clit, maybe it’s the lack of contact in months, most of all maybe it’s the fact Ellie took so long to reach out, but you give in. Throwing your arms around her neck, pulling her lips to yours, regardless of the possible consequence looming after you, threatening to tear apart the picture perfect life you thought you’re living. 

All of it happens in a blink of an eye. Abby’s tongue staking claim, dominating in ways you didn’t know were possible before she’s pushing your front against the balcony, placing your hand on the railing. With ease, she maneuvers your body in just the way she wants. “Gotta tell me yes pretty girl, that’s the only way this is going to start.” 

Facing the view, the buzzing city filled with nightlife and wonder, endless possibilities on your fingertips but you’re thinking about her hands. How much you want them inside you, fucking you full, or the strap in her pants you’d be rubbing against earlier. The thoughts of her slipping her cock inside you, claiming you in a way no one has in awhile. Making you feel wanted, needed, even if it was a fleeting feeling just for the night. You deserve it. Just one, stupid, decision — you were owed at least one. 

“Yes, s’what I want. You.” That’s all it takes before Abby pushes your skirt to your waist, sliding off your panties as she allows you to step out of them. 

“Are you sure?” Abby questions you. She pushes off from you, you hear her zipper being brought down as you look back at her, her vest being chucked to the lawn chair by the pool. 

Fuck. 

If she’s even half as good as she’s claiming to be, you are so fucked. 

“I’m sure.” 

Abby wraps her hands around your waist again, hands dipping under your shirt as she squeezes your breasts, teasing your hard nipples with her fingers. You sigh instantly, loving the stimulation she’s providing. You feel the barrel of her tongue piercing as she lightly sucks behind the sweet spot behind your ear, as if Abby's the one to place it there in the first place. 

“Good.” Abby teases your entrance with her cock, your body shuddering as it slides over your folds, using your slick as lubricant. Already, you’re grinding against her, just like before as she guides your hips in the pace she likes. “Do you like getting off on my cock, baby?” 

“Mhm, yeah, I do.” It’s all but a whisper. Abby still hears you speak, slapping your ass playfully, blunt fingers digging into the skin. She can’t believe anyone not wanting to touch you, not wanting to make you feel good. You’re the hottest person she’s ever fucking seen. Your ass, your tits, the moans spilling from your mouth, it’s been in her filthiest dreams. 

“What about now?” Abby lets her cock slip inside you, stretching out your walls as you take everything she has to offer. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled like this, your cunt greedily taking every inch has she slides in further and further. With a tight grip, you hold onto the railing as she thrust with her strong hips forward, your back arching so deep as she places her hand on your lower back, forcing the bend. 

“Oh…” Abby grins at your desperate moans, “You really do know how to be a good girl and take it.” Her name falls from your lips like a stuttering prayer, as if she’s the god you’re praising at the altar. With each thrust, Abby back more of her strength into, packing a powerful punch to your cunt. Pulling at the strings, already making you see stars as you take from the angle. 

“Fuck!” With no warning, Abby pulls at your hair, your body conforming to her will. She could do as she pleased and you would let her. You wonder if you even had a chance or if this is what was meant to be. Her speed grows rapidly, your stomach doing flips as she penetrates you, fucking you until you’re irrevocably spent. 

“See? You’re just a whore. My whore. Got you cock drunk for me. Don’t I?” Abby thumbs with your clit, making you see stars. Lost in the effortlessness of her actions, calloused fingers playing you like her drums set. With ease, from memory she pulled out a performance, just like she did at every show, aiming to please her audience. 

“Do you—” Abby draws circles on your puffy clit, your growl as you attempt to push through your words. “Shit, I’m—” 

“Hm?” You hear it, the sound of your cunt being fucked blending into the busy street, her hands pulling you on her cock over and over. “Didn’t think I’d take it easy on you now, did you?” 

“I just didn’t think you’d actually feel this good.” With one particular hard thrust, Abby has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your body begins to shake at her ministrations. 

“We’re just getting started but I wanna see that gorgeous face.” She pulls out of you as she sits on the nearest lawn chair, “Hop back on, babygirl, s’all yours to use.” You remove the rest of your clothes, the E chain the only thing adorning your body. 

Messily, Abby spits on her large palm, mixing your slick coating her cock making sure she’d be nice and ready for you to slide right back on. You grip her soft, freckled shoulders as she helps guide you, her blue eyes darkening as she sees the bliss written all over your face. Sinking on her cock is a sight Abby wants to replay in her mind, the high pitched moan that releases from your body is food for her soul. 

“Fuck yourself on me, babygirl. Mhm, show me how much you need it.” You lean her forehead against yours, look in her beautiful blues, feeling a strange sense of intimacy as she fucks hours brains out. Abby likes the fact you have no idea who she is but you’re riding her like no tomorrow. 

When you start bouncing on her cock, Abby loses all coherent thought. Your not so subtle bounce of your tits, she loves them so much she cranes her neck to suck on your nipples, her tongue piercing adding a new sensation, unable to stop your pussy from gushing around her. 

“Does your girlfriend fuck you like this? Mhm, I don’t think so. My sweet babygirl, so frustrated, and all you need is some good fucking cock, huh?” 

“All I need is you.” Abby thrusts her hips into you, her heavily ring hand slips her pinky ring off, the shimmering gold is placed on your clit, your body jerking from someone so cold on your throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“Since you can’t feel the little ball on my tongue right now, I suppose this will have to do.” 

“Is that so, baby? Need me?” Abby glances over your shoulder before looking back at you, before she continuously meets the roll of your hips with her thrusts. “Dirty fucking slut, so horny for your cunt to be fucked properly. It’s why you came out tonight, why you got off on my thigh at the bar, why you couldn’t stop looking at me, s’why your hands have been over me all fucking night.” 

“Abby, shit, keep talking like that.” 

“Hm, you like when I call you my dirty slut? When I tell you how needy you are for me? Bet you would have let me bend you over the bar and fucked you right there.” You’re groaning, you scream her name so loudly, Abby can’t help but grin with a sinister smirk. 

“Yes, would let you do anything.” Abby hums approvingly, the cool sensation of her diamond encrusted ring doing wonders to bring you over the edge, “Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever—” 

One particular hard thrust has Abby wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you up as your body nearly becomes deadweight, her head making home on your shoulder. It’s when she steps into the light, met with Abby’s darkness. The night she had perfectly curated to fully benefit her, the strategic planning of a rotten apple, split right down the middle when push came to shove. 

— 

Three Months Prior…

“You said you would tell her.” The frustration written all over Abby’s face, her voice only raising an octave higher. Abby has never been so disgusted with herself, stopping so low, thinking she would get chosen over the long term girlfriend. 

Stupid. 

“I know what I said. I’m telling you, I can’t.” Ellie pinches the bridge of her button nose, trying to concentrate as Abby makes no move to do anything else but continue to fuck Ellie’s cunt. 

“Oh no?” Abby slips a third finger in her pussy as she shoves her face between her slender thighs. “You don’t wanna tell her why you won’t fuck her anymore? All the light night calls with your manager are flights to come to my penthouse and get your pussy fucked out?” 

Her tongue dips into Ellie’s pussy, she flattens her pierced tongue, the cool golden ball adding stimulation to the weeping woman’s clit, her body jerking at the action. “She’s too fucking good for you.” The speed of the bigger girl’s fingers send Ellie into godspeed, flirting with another dimension as she allows Abby to play tricks on her pussy. 

The reason she comes back, no one makes her cum like she does, not even you. Abby wants more but Ellie refuses to give it, not willing to leave you even if you know what she’s been doing, all the lies she’s told in order to fuck Abby, you’d never look her way again. “She can't do this though? It’s why you keep coming back, you need my fingers stuffed in your pussy.” Abby’s fingers are reaching so deep, kissing Ellie’s cervix as she grips onto her wrist, bucking her hips up into the rockstar’s fingers. 

“Maybe I should give them to her instead. I’m sure she would be more grateful.” Abby spits sloppily on Ellie’s pussy, kitten licking her clit until she sucks it in her mouth, tongue rapidly flicking over her bundle of nerves. Abby tsks, “Selfish slut, cum on daddy’s tongue like you fucking mean it.” 

Like the greedy whore she is, Ellie squirts into Abby’s mouth and the blonde doesn’t waste a single moment, she slurps obnoxiously on Ellie’s cunt. “Fucking whore.” Her tongue flattens as he licks from her puckered hole to her clit, every drop dispersing into mouth. 

Ellie’s entire body shakes, barely registering when Ellie throws on a robe, leaving it open and she lights up a cigarette on the balcony of her bedroom. Ellie whines for Abby. 

“This was the last time.” With a flip of a switch, Abby’s tone changes, her cunt with her blonde pubes making her pussy appear even more irresistible, all she wanted was to get on her knees for Abby, repay the favor but the stoic look on her face tells her she won’t be getting anywhere near her tonight. 

She exhales a puff of smoke, her sun kissed skin reflecting off the moonlight, every defined line of muscle making her even more beautiful. “But why? Did you suddenly grow a conscience?” 

“No but I’m not interested in being someone’s side piece. I’m the main fucking show.” Abby shrugs her shoulders matter of factly, “Show yourself out, Williams.” 

— 

The memory flashes before Abby’s eyes, she’s sure it’s crossing Ellie’s mind, her worst nightmare playing in front of her. Her girlfriend, screaming her mistress’s name, as she clings onto Abby like a second life line. The look of horror in her emerald eyes, she would know your body everywhere, it’s you. 

“All mine, my pretty pussy baby, m’babygirl gonna cum soon? yeah? can you do that for me?” Every word spoken was salt in the wound, smearing in as Ellie stood frozen still. The text was deliberately sent tonight for her own demise. Using Ellie’s needy nature against her, but it seems someone else was quite needy, but fuck was she prettier. 

Ellie is a fucking idiot, Abby thought. 

Knowing how much she loved it, Abby brought her finger to her mouth, sucking on the digit, then she teases your puckered hole and you’re begging to convulse. Letting yourself be held by Abby, but your hips don’t stop moving. 

No. 

You’re fucking yourself even harder on her. 

“Mommy, please? Make me cum, fuck, need to cum all over your cock. Gonna dump her for you, please. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” With her finger only slightly slipping into your ass, you see pull on her golden waves, allowing yourself to slip into the hold of rotten intentions. Ellie has seen enough as she slams the door on her way out but you’re too fucked out to even clock it. 

“Good girl. Let it go. Mommy’s got you. Mhm, give it all to me, baby.” When she’s don’t fucking you into another dimension, Abby lays back on the chair, feeling quite satisfied with her successful plot of revenge. 

Even better, she has you. 

You fall on top of her, still stuffed full, when she finds sucking on her nipples. Your tongue toying with the barbell, pushing and pulling as Abby takes a sharp intake of breath. 

“Sorry, I've been wanting to do that all night.” You giggle lightly, Abby drawing random patterns on your exposed back. She doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt as she lets you suck on her tits, marking her porcelain skin. You’re already more of a giver than Ellie, she smiles at the thought. 

“Don’t have to apologize. Never going to say no to a beautiful girl sucking my tits.” 

She’s entirely mesmerized by you, in ways she hasn’t been before. Truthfully, she almost came from seeing you cum. Never in her life has someone brought her so close without having her pussy in their mouth. “Do you want the driver to take you home or do you want to go for round two? I’d like to fuck you on my bed, feel your dripping cunt on mine, make you forget about that pathetic girlfriend of yours.” 

You forget she’s still inside you because you sit up fully and you’re moaning, again. 

“I’d like that but let me give you another ride, yeah?” 

Unbeknownst to you, the rotten apple lays beneath you, the same E chain hidden beneath the countless chains adorning her neck but sometimes they can taste just as divine as the sweet one. Sour or sweet? That’s for you to decide. 

Bloody, intentional, reckless — Abby Anderson has brought it all. 

Showing Ellie just how sweet something rotten could really be if preserved for someone else.

reblogs and extra thots are appreciated! hope you enjoyed ♡

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[raebaekaedae]

Volume One, Episode Fourteen: “The Wrong Kind of Tournament”

Series: SCWR Rating: R (Some Foul Language, Violence against Fantasy Monsters, Excessive Violence, Drugged, Death Mentioned, Subtle Themes of Racism, Prominent Themes of PTSD) Summary: (5,679 words) “In part one of the thrilling finale, Haddy faces his deadliest challenge yet. When he and some other students are kidnapped and held against their will to fight in cruel battles against creatures of grimm, Hadrian must find a way to escape and keep everyone safe at the same time...”

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"Mr. Snow... Mr. Snow, please, wake up..."

The soft voice slowly lolled him back into consciousness. For a moment, he was too weak to open his eyes. His head felt light and loopy like he was spinning through the air and the only thing tying him to Remnant was the musty, muddy smell pounding through his nose. With some effort, he managed to force his blurry eyes open and look up at the ceiling. Or what he thought would be the ceiling. Instead, he was met with the fuzzy visage of a blue figure staring down at him.

Once he blinked the drugged sleep out of his eyes, he found himself laying on a cement floor with his head resting in the lap of a blue-haired faunus girl. She had tears running down her cheeks in waves, absolutely ruining her makeup. She had scratches and bruises on her face and arms from a fight. Her dress was torn in places and dirty in others, and he was willing to bet that was what he looked like too.

She was familiar though... he'd seen her at the dance.

"Blue...?" he weakly asked through parched lips once he found his voice.

If she wasn't already sobbing, though he thought she might have burst into tears when he finally spoke. She frantically nodded, unable to find words as she smoothed his hair back with one hand and wiped her face with the other. After a moment, Haddy managed to push himself up into a sitting position and get a good look around.

It was dark, there wasn't a lot of light, only the dim luminescence from a few scrolls. The walls of the cramped room were lined with steel reinforcement and no windows. The walls were bare with the exception of an iron door sealed on one side. He and Blue weren't alone, there was another girl sitting in the corner with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was wearing a green dress with a golden necklace draped across her chest. She didn't look much older than the faunus girl.

"Where... are we?" Haddy asked, scooting a little so that his back was resting against one of the walls.

"I dunno," Blue said quietly, following him and bringing her own knees up to hug, "I was just walking back to my dorm from the dance with my brother and then everything goes black..."

The husky closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened. He was at the dance, and then Ozpin revealed the memorials and he bolted. He ran. He was sitting on the edge of the school, crying, when Monroe, Robyn, and Ryder showed up and told him... told him that they knew... and that they didn't blame him.

He fumbled around with his pants pocket, pulling out his scroll and opening it. His lock screen was blown up with messages and missed calls.

CADE: Whoever shot you got away, we're coming, hold on

-Missed Call from RBYN-

RBYN: Are you okay?? Haddy, please respond!

RYDR: Your map is offline, we can't find you. Please, we need you to respond

Haddy watched as about five minutes passed before the messages resumed.

QROW: Haddy! Robyn just burst in here and told us what happened! Are you okay? Where are you?

-Missed Call from RBYN-

-Missed Call from RBYN-

CADE: We're coming, I swear, please hold on

TAIY: Dude, Summer is talking to Ozpin rn. Gene and a couple other students are missing too. Are they with you?

There was another pause.

QROW: Come on, man, say something please

-Missed Call from RBYN-

-Missed Call from QROW-

-Missed Call from CADE-

Then, about half an hour later, Summer texted him.

SUMR: We're on our way. We got a tip from someone about some students being seen downtown before they were abducted.

There was a long pause after that. Then, finally...

CADE: I'm sorry

CADE: I'm so sorry, Haddy

He looked to see if he had any reception, not surprised to see zero bars. Reluctantly, he closed the scroll and returned it to his pocket. Haddy turned to see Blue burying her face into her arms, still quietly crying. He sighed before scooting closer to her and putting his arm over her shoulders and pulling her in closer.

"Hey, we're gonna get out of this," he smiled down to her, "Our teams and the Beacon Professors are already looking for us."

"It doesn't matter..." the other girl said from across the room, pausing before she looked up, a haunted look on her face, "They're gonna kill us before anyone can save us..."

Before Haddy could ask her why she was so certain, the sound of a locking mechanism shook the quiet of the room. Instinctively, the three Huntsmen-in-training jumped up and backed towards the edge of their cell. Hadrian stepped in front of the girls, guarding them with his body as he heard Blue whimpering behind him. He braced himself for a fight as the door slowly creaked open, scraping along the floor as it swung open.

The smell of blood hit him like a freight train.

He wasn't expecting the body of another student to be thrown in with them, battered and bleeding. The blond boy's once glittering, golden suit was caked in grime and blood, now half-dyed a muddy shade of crimson. He stumbled into the cell, bleeding from a large gash somewhere in his hair, falling forward. Hadrian just barely managed to jump forward and catch him before he face-planted into the cement. The boy was hardly breathing, his chest rising in jagged motions. Haddy quickly flipped him around to examine his wounds.

His dress shirt and suit jacket were torn and tattered, revealing a nasty, slashing gash from his shoulder down his torso. His arm, which had been ripped from his ribboned sleeve was bruised to Hell, most likely broken in multiple places or crushed. When Hadrian moved his bangs from his eyes to get a better look at his head wound, he gasped.

One amber eye was swollen shut and his nose was broken and bleeding, but staring back at him was Gene Aurum. His glittering golden eye shadow was smudged along with his dark eyeliner. His lipstick was more red than yellow, now glistening with blood instead of gloss. He looked up at Hadrian with the same recognition, reaching up weakly and gripping on to his shirt sleeve.

"H-ddy..." the broken Beacon student croaked as the door slammed shut.

"Gene!" Haddy cried, shaking away his shock to quickly tear away his classmate's jacket, "Oh my Gods!"

The husky wrapped the ruined jacket into a ball and pressed down on the gash that was still weeping blood from Gene's torso. The blond nearly screamed but kept himself from crying out by clenching his fist and pounding it into the floor. Team GOLD's leader took in a sharp, shallow breath, still laboring his breathing. Hadrian pulled at the sleeves of Gene's shirt, checking his wrists and finding them absent of his signature golden bracers.

Haddy turned to the girls and hastily asked, "Gold? Are you wearing anything gold?"

"What? Why?" The other girl asked, still shaken from Gene's entrance.

"His semblance is Golden Touch, he can regenerate his aura when he's in contact with anything gold," the husky quickly explained, "More aura means he can heal faster!"

Blue instantly pulled a ring from her finger, handing it over as she stammered, "I-I think this is real, I-I'm not sure!"

He took it, placing it into Gene's palm. Almost instantly, his golden yellow aura sparked back to life weakly. The girl with the green dress hesitated, but then shook her head and unlatched her necklace, nearly throwing it to the husky as she reached up to take off her earrings as well. With the additional jewelry, the blond's aura steadily grew.

After a moment, he weakly lifted his head and asked, "Had-dy... Lamb'rt... Ru... Doron... where...?"

His teammates. Hadrian nodded down to him, "I dunno, Gene. I dunno. I haven't seen them."

Monroe and the R's hadn't been taken, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to send those texts, which meant that maybe... "I-I don't think they're here... I think they're safe."

He watched as Gene let out a shaky sigh of relief, visibly releasing tension that he probably wasn't sure he was holding. The girl knelt down and took over applying pressure on his wounds as Haddy tore his own sleeve off to start wrapping around the golden leader's head. It wasn't much, but it was all they had at the moment.

"What..." Blue hesitantly asked, "... happened to you?"

He took in a ragged breath, laying his head back down as he struggled to reply, "It w's... some kinda... f'ghting ring... 'gainst grimm... but my aura... my aura wa'n't work-ng..."

Hadrian's blood ran cold. He must have gasped or shuddered or fallen back a pace because Blue looked up at him with her big, sad eyes and asked, "What's wrong? What's wrong??"

"Gene..." the husky asked, steeling himself, "Did you hear the name 'Diana Gae'?"

The blond weakly nodded, "She's... th' anno'nc-r..."

He knew he fell back this time. Hadrian ran his hands through his hair, nearly pacing as he stood up and tried to recall every single thing they had learned about the matriarchal murderer. Semblance; pheromones. Contacts everywhere. Fights don't take place in the city...

"Y-u... know 'er..." Gene said, looking up at him with a sharp determination in his eye.

Haddy knelt back down and nodded, "She's the one who killed Peri..."

The blond leader took a deep breath as he closed his good eye, quietly breathing out, "D-mn't..."

"Peri??" the girl asked, half-crazed, "The guy from the memorial? Oh my Gods, I was right; we're gonna die here!"

Blue whimpered, pulling her knees back up again as she wrapped them in her arms. Hadrian quickly interjected, "No one is dying tonight! We just have to stick together and remain calm!"

Just as he finished, the slow unlocking of the door tore through the flimsy shield of faith that the students had. The green-dressed girl was nearly hysterical by this point, pushing harder and harder down on Gene's chest wound, causing him to gasp and wince with pain. The husky rose again, positioning himself between the girls and Gene and raising his arms to defend them if he needed.

When the metal door scraped along the stone floor it sent little chunks of cement scattering through the cell. Four armed and armored brutes entered the room in a wave. As they approached, Hadrian hunkered down, remembering all that Tai had taught him, as he sharply inhaled and threw a hook into the jaw of one of the men. The brute was sent sprawling back a few paces before another one of his friends slammed the butt end of her rifle down onto Haddy's shoulder.

The husky was flung down into the floor, his aura protecting him from the brunt of the blow. He quickly adjusted himself, kicking forward as he connected his foot with the knee of the woman who had hit him. She screamed as her leg crunched and bent back at an angle it wasn't supposed to bend. Haddy activated his semblance, sliding to the side just as the boot of brute he'd punched came crashing down towards him.

Before he could do any more damage, the other two armored goons jumped on top of him and wrestled him onto his stomach as they dug their knees into his back and pinned his arms there. After a moment of struggling, he was pulled to his feet. No matter how hard he pulled, he couldn't get free. But still, he fought against his grapple, shouting and kicking in futile attempts to escape.

He was almost gifted the strength he needed when the female brute grabbed onto Blue's bicep and pulled her up, despite the beagle's desperate cries. Hadrian snarled, "Leave her alone!"

The golden-haired spartan was pushing himself up onto his elbows weakly, determined that no one would have to go through what he just had despite his injuries. However, the remaining goon put an end to his feeble attempts with a swift kick to the ribs. Gene cried out, falling back as he coughed and sputtered.

Hadrian continued to fight back, now yelling and screaming. There wasn't anything he could do as both he and Blue were ripped away from their cell and pulled along through a dimly lit hall. He could only watch as the thick, metal door was slammed shut and locked behind them, sealing Gene and the female student away. He continued to struggle and fight as he was dragged along.

Soon after, he was thrown forward into a copper cage, stumbling forward and slamming into the opposite wall. Before he could turn and resume his fight, Blue was tossed into him. He caught her before she fell, but not before the cage's door was shut and locked. Just as suddenly as they'd appeared, the brutes were gone, leaving the two faunus trapped and alone.

Blue rubbed the red mark on her arm as she softly cried, "What are they gonna do to us?"

Haddy wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly as he reassured, "I don't know, but I promise that I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Okay?"

The husky quickly pulled his arm back, yanking his remaining sleeve up to reveal his beaded and leather bracelets. He swiftly unlatched the brown sling, unwinding it as he revealed its hidden weapon properties. Hadrian brought his wrist up to his mouth and tore the beaded string with his teeth. The plastic-coated dust capsules broke free as he caught them in his hand. He had two sets of fire, lightning, gravity, and ice pellets.

It paid to keep some of his Atlas trinkets a secret.

"Stand back," Haddy ordered, clicking his heels together to reveal his crampons.

The blue-haired, blue-eyed girl nodded as she sniffled and wiped her nose with her arm. She moved against the copper bars, shifting herself so that she was braced. Hadrian lifted his boot and gingerly pierced one of the black orbs with his spiked soles. Once it was secured, he brought his leg back and kicked forward. A blast of energy buckled the cage's door as the husky felt a wave of pain reverberate up from his ankle to his hip.

Just as he was lifting his boot up to go again, the ground shifted, nearly knocking him off balance. Blue caught his shoulders as the pair started to ascend with their cage. She whimpered, but she stood strong as she raised her fists for a fight. Haddy quickly stuck one of the colored orbs into his sling and pulled back his arm to fling the projectile if the need arose.

Blinding lights shone down as a trapdoor opened above them and the thumping bass of music tore through his ears. Haddy had to raise an arm to block the shining stadium lights as loud roars of cheering erupted around them. The floor beneath them sputtered and locked into place as the copper walls fell, sending a puff of dirt up as they slammed into the packed floor.

"Welcome," a feminine voice rang out over loudspeakers, "to the Ataxia Arena!"

"Blue..." he whispered, moving in front of her and taking a good look around, "Stay behind me..."

They were in a lowered arena of some kind. The uneven, bumpy floor was packed down with dirt and splattered with blood and viscous grimm goo. They were surrounded by smooth, stone walls that rose about fifteen feet up before a chain-link roof separated them from rows and rows of stands; completely full of raging "fans". The walls were lined with large doors that could be raised up to reveal whatever monsters were making the hurt growls from inside their dark cages.

As he scanned the stands, his eyes crossed a box raised above the sea of onlookers. There she was. Her hair was black with a magenta ombre weaving through her wavy curls. She was wearing tight, black leather pants with golden buttons and zippers. You could see the curves of her hips underneath her deep purple corset with the transparent, flowing sleeves that tied off at the wrists. Her boots rose up to her knees and wore six-inch heels.

And she was staring right at him.

"Hello again, folks," she seductively spoke, "If you were paying attention before then you'll know I'm your hostess, Diana Gae, and that we here at Ataxia have a special, Vytal Festival show here for you tonight!"

Angry cheers rang out before she continued, "Let's give a great big round of applause for the hypocritical, Atlesian figureheads of the famed 'Faunus Outreach Program'! Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between; Isabella Blue and Hadrian Snow!" Her voice was sweet like honey but had a deadly venom to it.

Screams of mixed affirmations and boos rang out through the arena as all the patrons roared with anticipation. Through the pungent smell of blood, Haddy could faintly sniff out traces of gunpowder and steel. He scanned the pit again. He couldn't see any weapons, but as his eyes ran across one of the lumpy mounds of dirt, he couldn't help but think it was vaguely shield-shaped.

He nudged Blue's arm, motioning with his eyes towards the mounds as Gae continued, "We wanted our Atlesian mutts to feel at home, so we have a special selection of grimm chosen for them tonight!"

He made a mental note that Diana Gae wasn't a fan of him, Blue, the Faunus Outreach Program, and/or Atlas. Maybe there was a rhyme or reason the students who'd been kidnapped were chosen. That could come in handy if he made it out of here.

When he made it out of here.

His thoughts were cut short as the grinding screech of metal-on-metal tore through his ears. Haddy whipped around, following the sound, as one of the large doors slowly rose. Icy claws scraped at the ground, trying to get traction before they were fully released. He'd recognize them anywhere; Sabyrs. At least three trying to scratch their way out.

Quickly, he pulled back his sling and prepared to fire, shouting, "Blue! Make a break for a weapon! They're--"

"--Hidden in the floor!" She called back, already making a break for one of the closest mounds, "I've got it!"

Cheering erupted once again as one of the feline grimm managed to claw its way out and began making a mad dash for Haddy. He threw his sling forward, pelting the iced beast with an explosion of fire. It was sent tumbling in the smoke, but it quickly recovered as it rose and shook itself off.

"Looks like Hadrian has a few tricks hidden up his sleeve!" Gae announced with a smirk, watching from above, "I can't help but wonder how he managed to sneak that past security, right folks?"

If there was laughter in the stands, he wasn't paying any attention. Haddy had already pulled his hidden sling and pushed another capsule inside. The Sabyr hissed as it resumed its charge, eager to tear into the husky. Swiftly, Hadrian began backpedaling, throwing another charge at the grimm. However, just as the black pellet was about to reach its target, the cat-like monster skidded to a halt and ducked its shoulder, dodging the impact. The dust capsule exploded on the wall behind it.

Before he could pull another capsule, the Sabyr had closed all the distance between them. It pounced and pinned him to the floor as its red eyes cried with hunger. Haddy felt the wind rush from his lungs as he was thrown onto his back. Gene was right; his aura wasn't protecting him. Just as the beast opened its maw to sink its dagger-like teeth into his flesh, there was the distinct sound of releasing pressure, and the grimm was flung from his chest.

Haddy quickly recovered, jumping to his feet as he watched the grimm begin to dissipate, leaving only the thick stem of a crossbow bolt stuck into its hide. He half-turned his head to see that Blue was supporting a comically-sized crossbow with ease, staring down the sights as she nodded to him.

He didn't have much time to nod back as Gae spoke, "Looks like Isabella found one of our toys! Too bad it's only got one shot... although, she could reuse her ammo, that means running straight toward our little kittens!"

Haddy hated to admit that Gae had a point. He quickly snatched the crossbow bolt as the remaining two Sabyrs clawed their way out of their prison. They circled for a moment, studying their prey before they lunged into a sprint. The husky quickly whipped around, tossing the bolt back to Blue as he pulled another pellet into his sling.

"Find a melee weapon," he called back, "We don't know how many of these things she's gonna throw at us!"

"Yes, sir!" The beagle shouted back, knocking the bolt again.

Together, Haddy and Blue fired their projectiles. On the right, the crossbow bolt tore through the eye of its Sabyr, downing the beast in one hit. The husky flung his sling ahead, striking the grimm on the shoulder. Frost and ice exploded, creating a misty fog as the capsule burst. The feline beast hardly even flinched. Damn it; he really should stick that last ice pellet in his pocket if the grimm Gae was going to throw at them were from Solitas.

He wasn't gonna give the grimm the same chance its brethren had. Haddy ran at the charging Sabyr, jumping just before it pounced. As he kicked, he activated his spikes, slamming his boot into the face of the big cat. It screamed and hissed the husky pushed off and forced the beast into the ground. Before it could recover, Haddy braced and jumped as high as he could, crashing down onto the Sabyr's skull.

As black, smelly goo splattered against his boots and pants legs, he heard Gae announce, "Ooh, that doesn't wash out. Looks like we're gonna have to up the ante if we're gonna see any blood!"

The creaking sound of another door being hefted open shook the arena. Hadrian took the chance to get a better look around. Blue had her arms full of weapons, her beautiful, tattered dress now covered in even more dust and dirt, and she was headed for him. She was good. There was no trace of the shy, skittish kid she'd been up until the fight. No aura meant limited or no semblance, so she wasn't relying on that, which meant she either didn't use it often or she was capable of switching up her style. Either way, she's pretty cool-headed under pressure.

Alright, he didn't have to worry about her as much as he thought he'd have to. He turned his head up. The walls were made of sheer concrete, so they definitely weren't gonna be able to climb out... not that they could get past the fence trapping them in. He might be able to pry open that rising trap door if they could get back to it, but he doubted it.

By this point, Blue had joined him, opening her arms to show a myriad of choices. He asked, "Which ones do you want?"

"I can use anything, sir," she replied sincerely.

He nodded, quickly glancing before snatching a painted shield and wooden hatchet. That left Blue with the crossbow, a training dagger, and a dulled greatsword. Gae really wasn't making this easy for them... That was when he realized he hadn't been paying attention to the next wave of grimm approaching.

Blue was already searching; but, as Haddy scanned the area, there was nothing. The heavy door was chained up, revealing a dark and empty cage. Not good. As the pair slowly circled with their backs together, he continued to look around.

The magenta murderess said she'd be using creatures of grimm from Solitas, which narrowed the pool of potential candidates down. He couldn't currently see them, which meant they were invisible or currently undetectable. He took a deep breath in through his nose. His senses were bombarded with what felt like ten thousand different smells. Popcorn, blood, metal, sweat, honey, pollen, make-up, crowds, death, and... something sharp. He focused, inhaling as his nose told him an acidic story.

Centinels.

On cue, the creepy crawlies burst from the ground. Both he and Blue barely managed to push off into the air as the ground exploded. The beagle girl shouted as she twirled around with the sword horizontal at her hip. She easily slashed the head off of the nearest Centinel, clearing a place for the pair to land as Haddy threw another capsule with his sling.

Lightning jumped from grimm to grimm, stunning them long enough for the husky to quip, "I hate these damn things..."

The faunus split, each jumping off in separate directions to try to thin out the hoard. Hadrian slid on his knees as he slashed into one of the scaled grimm, slicing it in two with a jagged cut. He managed to twirl up to his feet to avoid the corrosive blood that splattered to the ground, sizzling as it landed. As he twisted, he used the edge of his shield to partially decapitate another. The arthropod nearly ripped its own head off to turn and drench the husky in a generous bath of acid. The beagle girl landed, bringing the large sword through the remaining tendons.

Haddy danced around the Centinels, striking the back of their necks with the dulled blade of his hatchet, aiming to injure them while Blue followed his lead and finished the job. They worked well together despite having never fought side-by-side before. Atlesian training, he suspected. In his mind, he counted down the number of fallen grimm, trying to keep track of how many enemies were left.

The blue-eyed girl ducked under a wide swing of his shield as she sunk her dagger into the eye of one of the arthropods. As she pulled back, a few drops of the corrosive blood boiled on her skin. Haddy quickly pulled her around as he bashed the grimm back with the painted shield, finishing it off with a strike in the break of its segmented, scaled armor. He quickly turned his head back to Blue, only to find that she'd easily recovered and already stabbed the greatsword through the next grimm. He couldn't help but wince at the growing burn on her forearm.

"Ooh," Gae commented, "Not quick enough on the follow-through, ladies and gents."

He didn't let it distract him though, instead, he pulled his sling back as he easily slipped one of the icy blue pellets into its cradle. With no effort at all, he flipped clear over the beagle, flinging the projectile at the ground in front of her. It exploded with a frosty mist, which once cleared revealed that he'd frozen the remaining Centinels in place... or so he thought, at least.

As Hadrian approached the ground, upside down no less, he flung his shield like a discus straight through the segmented torso of one of the grimm where it slid around on the ice, bouncing off the trapped grimm and back to Blue's feet. He had planned to finish his aerial feat with a graceful landing atop the shield to use as a sled or ski along his icy path. What he didn't expect was the gentle rumble of burrowing as one of the Centinels burst from the wall, apparently just able to avoid being frozen.

He watched in slow motion as it opened its proboscis maw stretched open and a spray of green acid came flying at the pair. Blue had already started to fall to her knees, dropping her sword in favor of going for the shield to attempt to protect herself. Haddy wouldn't be so lucky, and he knew that she wouldn't either. No matter how fast the beagle was, she wasn't going to be able to prevent herself from being coated in the corrosive spit.

Instead, Hadrian used his falling momentum to twist around and push his back towards the Centinel. He pushed down a scream as the viscous venom splattered onto the back of his shirt and easily burned through into his skin. The acidic sputum tore through his muscle and forced an explosion of pain to tear through his nerves, but he didn't care. Haddy worked through the pain as the world sped up again.

He clicked his boots together, activating his crampons as he slammed into the dirty ground and couldn't hold back his pained scream this time. He didn't hesitate though, just pushed through as he used all his strength to push back up into the air, connecting his spiked boot to the underside of the Centinel and goring it through. He barely managed to keep his balance as he continued what had morphed into an attacking back handspring and staggered into a landing next to Blue.

Cheers erupted louder than ever as Haddy fell to one knee, straining not to howl with pain. Gae gleefully clapped as she exclaimed, "That's gotta hurt, folks! Looks like our perfect, little faunus-in-shining-armor isn't as indestructible as he'd have us believe!"

By the Brothers, he hated this woman.

Blue had already jumped to his side, putting a ginger hand on either of his intensely burning shoulders. He sucked in a sharp breath before ordering, "Blue, you need to take out the rest of the grimm while they're still frozen in place! I'm fine; go!"

She hesitated but complied, turning on her heel and charging the short distance between her and the remaining arthropods. She had enough sense to kick Mr. Snow's shield back towards him as she knelt down and sunk the flat greatsword deep into the abdomen of one of the beasts. The beagle easily bisected the creepy-crawly, jumping as she carried the blade through the air. Using that momentum, she swung the sword around at her waist and easily decapitated the remaining grimm before her feet even touched the melting ice.

By this point, Haddy had managed to use the wall and his returned shield to push himself up along the wall. His blue-haired partner quickly came to his side, pulling one of his arms across her shoulders to support him as the crowd began to boo and throw drinks and refreshments into the pit.

"Isn't that adorable..."

Hadrian's head rose back up to where Gae's announcing box was stationed high above everyone else. She was staring down at them with an amused smirk, one arm perched on her hip as she leaned to one side. She chuckled, "Let's see how that 'pack mentality' holds up against another one..."

The creaking of more chains quickly drew his attention back down into the arena. Another one of the metallic doors was being hoisted open. He wanted nothing more than to just collapse there and leave whatever was coming at them this time to Blue, but he refused to give in to the throbbing pain pulsing through his back. With a shaky inhale, he pulled himself off the girl's shoulders and brought the shield up defensively. For just a moment she looked as if she were going to object, however, she just nodded and returned her attention to the grimm.

Quickly, Haddy stuck the hatchet into the back of his belt, securing it by the wooden head as he loaded his sling with one of his two remaining shots. He pulled back his arm, readying to fire as soon as the door was high enough for one of them to slip in and take the grimm by surprise. He just needed one more moment... as his arm started to fling itself forward...

A shrieking, bloodcurdling howl pierced his ears as flashes of heartbreaking pain tore through him.

The orb of lightning slipped from the sling just a tad late as Haddy nearly stumbled backward. It exploded harmlessly against the rising door. He couldn't help but shake as a large paw stepped into the blinding light of the arena, followed in suit by many more. The iced Alpha had to lean down to not hit its head on the metallic door as it sulked into the pit, scanning until it found its prey.

When its bloody red eyes met Haddy's, he couldn't help but fall back a pace, nearly dropping the shield as his weeping back painfully scraped along the concrete walls trapping them here. He could feel himself hyperventilating as his entire body shook uncontrollably. He knew Gae was taunting him and that Blue was trying to talk to him, her back turned to the enemy as she gripped onto his shoulders and shook him, but all he heard were screams.

"Y'all have'ta get outta he-AGRHHHHHHHHH--"

"OLLIE! YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT, BASTARDS! I SWEAR, I'LL MAKE YOU PA--AHHHHHH!!"

"NOOOOOOOO!!"

Leo didn't even have time to scream out in pain...

That had been his first coherent thought after waking up in that infirmary.

He was jolted back to the present when Blue grabbed the shield from his grasp and twisted around to charge at the murderous grimm. They were still grouped together, circling one another as they howled and waited for the students to make a move. He wanted to scream for her to fall back, to yell and plead up at Gae to release them, because he knew that he and his team hadn't been able to beat a pack like this at their full power with their auras, semblances, weapons, and training... so, what chance did they stand now?

Blue parried away a sweeping set of claws that attempted to gore her as she drove her sword through the chest of another Beowolf. She easily twisted out of the way as another tried to tear into her flesh, pulling her blade from its brethren and swinging it into the lanky arm of her attacker, literally disarming it. However, she couldn't avoid it as the Alpha swung down at her, creating a set of bloody gashes down her torso from her shoulder.

She screamed in pain as she was no longer able to hold the heavy weapon, dropping it into a puddle of her own blood. He could only watch as she tried to grab her wound, apply some feeble pressure to alleviate the gushing tears in her flesh... and as the Alpha's gaping maw dripped with saliva, raising its blood-soaked claw up again to strike her.

"BELLL-AAAAHHH!!"

To be continued...

[cupidlovesastro]

symbols and their meaning (bug edition)

🌸moths- transformation, healing, endings, death, rebirth (pluto/ scorpio energy !!)

🌿butterflies- freedom, beauty, hope, transformation. in chinese culture it’s also said to symbolize the human soul !

🌸beetles- prosperity, luck, wealth, growth (mainly from chinese & native american cultures)

🌿ants- unity, team work, power of collaboration and cooperation. in native american culture they can also represent allies

🌸bees- dedication, prosperity, fertility, focus, team work, hard work, kindness, success, positivity. in christianity it can represent forgiveness

🌿scorpions- protection, independence, intelligence, solitude, transformation, sex, lust, fertility, defensiveness

🌸spiders- patience, persistence, omens, fate. native american culture also believe they represent creation, protection, and wisdom

🌿ladybug- positivity, good luck, spiritual guidance, trusting the universe, protection, past lives, wishes being fulfilled, abundance preying

🌸mantis- clairvoyance, meditation, stillness, awareness, balance, peace. christian’s believe it symbolizes piety or that angels are watching you

🌿dragonfly- rejuvenation, unexpected, self realization, mental & emotional maturity, fantasy, adaptability, joy, courage. in buddhism, they believe that dragon flies represent overcoming illusion, through the transformation of your perceptions.

🌸firefly- attraction, self illumination, hope, unity, harmony. the ancient japanese also thought that they were to represent love and war

🌿centipede- healing, hidden things, doubts. although in other cultures such as chinese and african, they believe centipede’s bring wealth, and prosperity

[elysianightsss]

Another sweet sweet price thot💋

Okay but let’s talk about Mountain man Price. He retired a few years ago and decided he much prefers the solitude of the beautiful mountains, with the tips of them all covered in snow. He likes the quiet, knowing he won’t run into anyone here. No one from the little town at the bottom of the mountains would be brave enough to hike the mountain trail.

He remembers the day he built his nice log cabin with the help of his trusty lieutenant of course. Simon helped his Captain one last time, before parting ways. Price wanted to be alone, after everything he’d experienced in the military, he wanted it to be just himself and the weather to keep him company.

He’d have the survival skills no doubt about it, but the more time he spent up there the more his social skills began to fade away. He’d have to come down every six months or so to restock his food, he make his trip down the hike trail to the little town at the bottom of the mountains and through the woods.

But the shop workers weren’t his biggest fans. He’d practically clear them out of their stock, the poor little local shop. They didn’t like his attitude either, found him strange and unapproachable. Though that’s exactly what John was going for. The less people that spoke to him, the better.

Until he met you of course.

It was only your second week at your new job, you’d just moved to the little town around a month ago and this was the only job available after some woman called Darlene went of maternity leave.

My gosh the way you’d be so nice to him having no idea the stigma that surrounded him and how suprised he’d be at the kindness you showed him. He’d actually look forward to coming down to the town.

He’d come more often as well, saying he’d ran out of supplies and yet he’d only buy a bag of fruit or some meat. Then he’d start to tidy up his appearance too, trim his over grown beard and moustache back to its former glory. The blush that would spread across your cheeks the first time you see him like that.

Hair trimmed too, you’d be able to see his perfect lips and crooked smile. It provoked a feeling in you that you’d long forgotten. Slowly but surely he’d start trying to flirt. Trying. Though you found it endearing how bad he was at it. Finally though he’d succeeded asking you out on a date and fuck the moment he’d turn up in his dark blue jeans, black shirt and dark brown leather jacket and boots. You swooned.

He had the charm turned on, especially after his phone call with his ex team. They could all hear how nervous their former captain was for this date. It made them very intrigued to meet you one day.

John didn’t miss a beat, almost as if he’d laid this date out like a mission. Going step by step to win your heart. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made you smile until your cheeks ached. Ordered the food and drinks impressively, no umming or stuttering.

He gave you butterflies when he reached over the table to grab your hand in his larger one. The skin was rough and calloused, but it felt amazing against your hand. He loved how soft your skin felt against his. He traced around the palm of your hand with his thick index finger, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing into your soul.

After dinner, John took you to a local bar that you were pleasantly surprised with. A few drinks later you tipsily confessed how handsome you thought he was. The longer the evening went on, the more longing looks and teasing touches were shared.

The evening ended with the two of you slow dancing until last call. The way your bodies pressed together, the intimacy and warmth. The way he’d always make eye contact, almost as if he was trying to read you. The way he held you so tender yet tight, his large hands on your body. It all just felt so right.

John walked you home, looking so sad when it was time to part ways. “Please, let’s do this again sweetheart.” When your manager Billy had called you that, it made you feel sick. Had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, disgust shivering down your body. But when John said it, damn. Your body shivered in delight, the deep mumble entangled with that delicious accent of his made you gulp back a lump in your throat. You swear your underwear was a little wet too.

You nodded leaning forward to kiss his cheek goodnight, John was quick to take your cheeks into his hands and press his wanting lips against yours. He was hungry and almost vicious when he kissed you, it made you wonder what kind of lover he was like as he pressed you against your front door and kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.

[emacrow]

Danny had a very rough week of not sleeping....

Five days straight of non stop ghost hunting, barely focusing on whatever their parents new inventions were and sabotaging them..

Then Saturday began...

There was skulker with him, ghostnapping and chasing him at 12am in the morning to 3:20am in some new extravagant hunting ground in the ghost zone which ended up backfiring on him later when it wasn't even his hunting ground as the original ghost owner started chasing skulker.

Then there was Johnny and kitty argument and dragging him along as an unwillingly victim because johnny was flirting with some ghost girl as he was trying to fly back to his family portal around 4am.

Accidentally crashing into Youngblood ship who rather excited to play again for the 28th this week and it fucking Saturday man..

He finally back home at 10am.. only to noticed that his parents left him to go on some honeymoon field trip since Jazz was in gotham for her collage and part time job as a assistant turned into a full time therapist in Arkham because she actually got a break through with Scarecrow with his childhood trauma and the Arkham are still flabbergasted by her abilities and immediately slapped her a full time sponsorship.

He tries to go back to sleep only to get notifications at 11:03am from tucker that Techno and Vortex teaming to cause a full blown out town wreacking havoc with a literally tornado dragging machines into it for some grand plan which was a fucking pain in his ass because his thermo also got caught in it.

Danny is dragging himself back to his bed after souping both Techno and Vortex, flopping onto his bed to finally catch those zzz when it about 6:29pm

Only for fucking Vlad to start his own bullshit with a new invention.

Danny is about to fucking snap at this point, vlad doesn't know what he released over a week of sleep deprived danny.

Maybe because how tired he was at that moment to not noticed the ray gun that vlad had looked oddly like the one his parents were making yesterday only to get hit by it directly...

Only to noticed he not in his bed anymore..

He was in snow.. iced cold snow in the middle of freezing temperatures and near some icy like palace..

He could cry right now..

He thought he got sent to the Far Frozen, welp this would be a great spot to take some much needed sleep. His mind is too muddle right now to even takea glance on small his form is now at the moment.

Flying a bit loopy through the icy palace, not noticing humaniod like giant crystallized statues with a S on their chests blinking some kind of alarm.

Making himself right at home as he made a nice snow like fluffy blankey that Frostbite once taught him whenever he went through his daily shots and stay the night there..

Drifting off to sleep finally with the sound of the silence..

He was already too far gone into unconscious to be awakened at this point..

Unaware that his presence brought alert to a certain Superhero.

Whom found a tiny little boy in the Fortress of Solitude, sleeping peacefully like the dead despite his heart beating very very slowly to health concerning matter.

Trying to wake him up only brought him a tiny punch to a face so hard and fast that it actually hurt him.

Which made Clark froze as he realized that punch actually hurted...

Which brought a major misunderstanding that slowly became a much bigger one later on in the dna scanner.

[mr-cha-n]

Through the Lens

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genres: Smut, fluff, photographer x model AU

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, sexual content, penetration, nudity

Word Count: 12.5k

Summary: Six months. Full access. Intimate photos. A glimpse into the world of celebrity. And the last thing Jeon Wonwoo thought he was signing up for.

A/N: Publishing a draft, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

The email arrives at the most inconvenient time, as all important emails do. Wonwoo had spent the entire day at the studio, taking newborn photos of a client’s latest chow chow—"latest" being bolded because this was the third time this year that he’d been called in for this client’s endless stream of puppies. By the time he’d finished, his body was ached raw from awkward angles, and his mind was numb from a six-hour editing marathon. He only managed to drag himself back to his flat after the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, craving the sweet refuge of solitude. 

Alas, he was dragged through a two-hour catch-up session with his flatmate, Mingyu, who, with his never-ending supply of caffeine and chatter, somehow managed to convince him to watch a movie about a guy who falls in love with his childhood friend who is also a ghost. (No, it didn't make sense, but Mingyu enjoyed it, and Wonwoo had long given up trying to follow his logic.)

By the time he collapses onto the couch, half-dead from human interaction, the email is waiting. 

"Subject: Assignment Confirmation: (Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

He groans as he clicks it open, his finger hovering over the delete button, ready to toss the whole thing into the digital voice. Then he reads the first line:

"Dear Mr. Jeon, we are pleased to confirm that you have been selected as the official photographer for the upcoming feature on (Y/n) (Y/l/n), world-renowned socialite and philanthropist."

"What in the world..." Wonwoo mutters. He doesn't even really remember submitting his name for this, and he's shocked he'd ever consider it. Wonwoo has long made a mental vow to avoid people like you - socialites, celebrities, influencers - whatever you call them. In the world of photography, they are all the same: walking photo opportunity with zero personality and way too much drama. Perfect for paparazzi, but not something he has time for. 

He's a quiet, detached observer of the world. He doesn't need to be a part of it.

But the email continues:

"We have full confidence in your ability to capture the raw and humanising side of Ms. (Y/l/n), giving our readers an intimate glimpse into her life, both public and private."

Raw? Humanising? Intimate? Which magazine is this again, the National Geographic?

His eyes flicker back up to the top of the email, growing wide as he sees the sender. Well, shit. Opus Magazine. He does remember applying for this, although, in his defence, they hadn't specified the subject of the op-ed when he'd submitted it. 

"We are excited to have you on board for this project, which will span the next six months. Your first shoot is scheduled for next Thursday, at 10 AM, at Ms. (Y/l/n)’s residence. We look forward to seeing how your unique perspective brings this project to life.

Thank you for your time and commitment.

Best regards, The Editorial Team Opus Magazine"

Wonwoo leans back, tilting his head toward the ceiling as if the world would offer him an answer. It doesn’t.

In all fairness, he has never actually met you before. But he's seen you everywhere. The perfectly curated Instagram feed. The charity galas. The interviews. The way you seem to be exactly what everyone wants you to be: flawless, effortless, untouchable.

A three-page approval form for every photo, he assumes. 

The door to the living room creaks open. "How are you not asleep yet?" Mingyu says cheerfully, poking his head in. Wonwoo glances at the clock on his screen: 2:43 am. He chooses not to point out that Mingyu's still awake too.

"I've been assigned to photograph (Y/n) (Y/l/n) for the next six months." Wonwoo grumbles, tapping his phone screen as if he could wipe away the whole thing with a swipe.

Mingyu's eyes widen in surprise. "Wait - (Y/n) (Y/l/n)? As in Forbes Under 30 (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?!"

"Yes. That one." Wonwoo replies flatly, eyes narrowing. "Six months. Full access. I'm going to want to die halfway through."

Mingyu looks delighted, clearly missing the gravity of the situation. "Ooh, this is going to be so fun! You're going to be all glamorous and -"

"No. No, I'm not," Wonwoo interrupts. "I'm going to hide behind my camera and take photos of her from so far away that she doesn't even know I'm there."

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Anti-Social. But—” Mingyu plops down beside him, grinning. “—what if she wants to get to know you?"

Wonwoo turns to him, unamused. "It's a professional gig to make her look good; she won't want me digging into her real life."

Mingyu, without missing a beat, grabs a bag of chips and shoves them into Wonwoo’s lap. “Just saying. People don’t come with Instagram models and high-profile gigs attached unless there’s something extra special about them, right? Maybe she’s a hidden gem.”

"Hidden gem?" Wonwoo scoffs. "Or a nightmare in designer shoes."

It doesn’t take long for Mingyu to bombard him with unsolicited advice. “... here’s my tip for you. Don’t just take boring photos. You know what’s going to make her stand out in the sea of perfect socialite portraits?” He paused dramatically. “Unfiltered moments. Catch her when she’s off guard. Capture her when she doesn’t know she’s being watched.”

Wonwoo shoots him a deadpan look. “What, you mean like stalking her?”

“I prefer the term artistic observation,” Mingyu replies, grinning mischievously. “Trust me. You’re going to fall in love with her vulnerability. You know, the real her. The one she hides behind all the glam.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, already regretting this conversation. He’s not even met you, and here Mingyu was, crafting an entire narrative of undiscovered depth based on nothing but a couple of well-lit photos.

Still, his finger hovers over the accept button. 

Six months. Full access. Intimate photos.

Maybe he should just ... get on with it.

Wonwoo hasn't actually met you yet and he's already regretting his decision. 

He's spent the past week alternating between panicking and ignoring the dozens of emails for your team, each one more frantic than the last. First, they sent a detailed itinerary of the shoot, followed by an even more detailed list of instructions on what he should wear, when to arrive, and what colour lens he should use for "optimal lighting" - as if he didn’t know how to work a camera by now.

9:00 AM, Inbox:

“Subject: URGENT: RE: Ms. (Y/l/n)’s Preferences for the Day”

“Good morning, Mr. Jeon,

I hope you're prepared for today’s shoot! Please note that Ms. (Y/l/n) prefers a soft light filter on all images, especially when she’s not directly posing. We’ve attached a sample of how she likes her candid photos to look (it’s very specific). Do ensure that you have the required lens, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out.

Best, Assistant to Ms. (Y/l/n)’s PR Team.”

Wonwoo stares at the email for a moment, blinking. Soft light filter? Do you breathe, or do you simply exist in a perpetual soft-focus glow? His finger hovers over the "delete" button, but he refrains. He already knows this is a battle he’s not going to win.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to get up. He throws on his jacket, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him worse than when he submitted his final portfolio at college, and the project hasn't even begun yet. There's no escaping now. He has to do it - he's been hired for this. Paid for it, too, which means he's legally obliged to at least try.

He arrives at the shoot location just before 10 AM: a sprawling, minimalist mansion that looks like it's been pulled from the pages of an interior design magazine. It's sleek, modern, and incredibly intimidating. The atmosphere is slick with an 'unapproachable luxury' vibe, and Wonwoo can already feel the tension in his shoulders as he steps out of his car. 

A member of the PR team greets him immediately, smiling far too brightly for someone who's probably already been working since 5 AM. "Mr. Jeon! So glad you could make it. Please follow me inside, Ms. (Y/l/n) is just getting ready.”

Wonwoo nods, trying to maintain the calm he doesn't really feel, muttering a "thank you" in response.

Inside, everything is sleek and spotless - nothing out of place, nothing too personal. Like no one's ever lived here. He's brought to a sitting room where the lighting is admittedly perfect. Almost too perfect. He's not used to working in these conditions. He's used to having to fix things last minute, create something out of nothing, or use the imperfections to his advantage. A soft hum of quiet chatter fills the air, and a stylist is busy adjusting something behind the curtain.

He doesn't know what he's expecting as you walk out. Maybe someone a little more ordinary, a little less polished than the figure seen in magazines. He's worked with models before, and they've always been so normal outside of shoots. But when you step into the light, it's like the room takes a collective breath. You're impossibly beautiful, even he can admit that, in that "perfectly put together, but effortless charming" way. Your smile hits him like a tidal wave, all dazzling teeth and liquid confidence, and for a split second, he forgets why he's here. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but what comes out is a dry, “Hello.”

You tilt your head slightly, looking him up and down with eyes that seem to see everything. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice smooth, almost teasing.

Wonwoo feels a flutter of unease in his chest, though he’s not sure why. It’s not like he hasn’t worked with famous people before, and yet something about you—something about the way you look at him—feels like an interrogation.

“Ah, well,” he stammers for a second, clearing his throat, “I… I hope it’s all positive.”

The smile on your lips doesn’t waver, but there’s something almost too sharp about it. The kind of smile that’s practised, like you’ve been wearing it since you were a child in front of mirrors, learning the exact angle for maximum charm.

“Oh, absolutely. You’ve got quite the reputation,” you say, as if it’s an afterthought. “They told me you’d be professional.”

Professional. Right. Because that’s exactly what he is. He’s always professional, no matter how much he wants to roll his eyes at the utter insanity of the situation. 

He offers a stiff nod. “Good. That’s what I’m here for.”

You smile again, but this time it’s softer. There's a flicker of something in your eyes, almost like amusement, but also curiosity. For a moment, Wonwoo wonders if he's just a novelty to you, something to poke at for fun. Or maybe you think you’re the novelty here, and he's just another player in the game you're used to winning. Either way, he can feel the weight of that gaze, and it’s not entirely comfortable.

You take a step closer, and Wonwoo resists the urge to take a step back. It’s like you have this gravitational pull—magnetic, impossible to ignore. But he’s not going to let that faze him. His eyes stay focused on your face, trying not to let your presence throw him off his game.

“So,” you say, tilting your head slightly, “what’s your plan for today? I’m assuming I’m not just going to stand here all day and look pretty?”

It's a light question, but he can hear the expectation in your voice. He’s used to people expecting things. It’s just—well, usually, it’s an email with 10 bullet points, not an interrogation delivered with a smile.

“I’ll take a few shots first,” Wonwoo replies, keeping his tone neutral. “Get the feel of the lighting. Then we’ll see if we need anything more posed.”

You nod, and decide the conversation is over, floating back over to the set.

Wonwoo lifts his camera, adjusting the settings to give himself a moment to settle down.

You stand still, not quite posing, but perfectly aware of your body. Everything about you seems calculated. Even your fingers, relaxed at your sides, seem to fall into the right positions at just the right time. It’s strange, though, because you’re not the robotic kind of poised he’s used to. There's a subtle looseness to you, a humanity that he doesn't expect.

“How does this work?” you say after a beat. “You just take my picture and call it a day?”

Wonwoo focuses on adjusting the lens, trying to suppress the slight frustration that’s bubbling up. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to take your picture. All he wants is to get the job done and move on.

But instead, he clicks the shutter. One, two, three shots in rapid succession. The light catches your face in a way that’s almost too good to be real, too perfect for anyone to be this unfailingly photogenic.

“Relax,” he mutters more to himself than to you. “Just act natural.”

You tilt your head again, this time a little more playfully. “Natural?” You raise an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping you. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what that is.”

Wonwoo’s finger freezes over the shutter, and he looks at you again, the barest hint of annoyance tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’m sure you can manage."

You laugh then, a light, almost mythical sound, and for a moment, the tension in the room eases just enough for Wonwoo to breathe. “I’ll try. But no promises.”

He clicks another shot, and for the first time, something in his chest loosens. It’s not much—just a tiny shift—but it’s there. You’re... interesting.

“Tell me, Mr. Jeon,” you ask, your voice low. "I'm intrigued as to why you decided to do this shoot. What's your opinion on people like me?"

Wonwoo lowers the camera, the question catching him off guard. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, your gaze flicking toward the window, your expression momentarily unreadable. “People who live in the public eye. People who everyone thinks they know, but don’t. What’s your opinion on that?”

“People like you don’t need opinions,” he says, his voice flat, “because you already know how everyone feels about you.”

He’s being sharp. Cold, even. And he knows it. But he can’t help himself. This isn’t the first time he’s worked with someone who expects the world to revolve around them. It’s what they do. It’s why he keeps his distance.

You don’t react immediately. You just stare at him for a moment, your expression unreadable.

For a split second, he wonders if he’s crossed a line. But then your lips twitch, just the slightest hint of a smile.

“Well,” you finally say, your tone warm but still guarded, “I suppose that’s one way to see it.”

Wonwoo wants to say something else, maybe something witty or sarcastic, but he stops himself. Instead, he lifts the camera again, focusing on the next shot.

No matter how much he tries to bury it, Wonwoo can’t help but feel... a little intrigued by you.

Just a little.

The second shoot is at your apartment. 

Wonwoo had been floored when he'd found out - although the spotless nature of the first home had kind of given away that it wasn't actually yours. More than that, the fact that he, despite meaning to have creative control over the project, wasn't told that the purpose of the first shoot was to show a contrast between how people thought you lived and how you actually lived. Seemed like something he should have a say in.

As he arrives, the reality is different to what he'd imagined, and the opposite of the slick, minimalist mansion. 

Your apartment is, in a word, alive. The first thing that hits him is the colour. Bright hues of teal and mustard yellow leap off the walls, the kind of vibrant tones that feel like they belong in a 70s sitcom. The entire place seems to be a throwback to a cooler, bygone era, as if time itself was gently bent to live in this space. Mid-century modern furniture clashes with bold retro patterns—geometric prints, zigzags, and polka dots galore. 

The space is wide and open, but it’s not the sterile kind of open that’s all white walls and cold metal. No, this is a living, breathing room that demands attention with its quirk and charm. He prefers it.

The walls are covered in vintage posters from concerts, movies, and random ads from the 60s and 70s—faded, but still full of energy. One poster catches his eye in particular: it’s a photograph of an old jazz band in action, the colours almost washed out but still vibrant in their intensity. He notices that it’s not framed, just tacked on with mismatched pins as though it was thrown up without a second thought. It’s a detail that makes him think you probably chose it on a whim.

At the far side of the room, there's a vintage bar cart—wooden, with brass accents, stocked with various bottles and a large glass decanter that catches the light as though it’s waiting for its next cocktail to be poured. A small but proud collection of classic board games, with bright, cheerful colours that look like they belong on a childhood shelf, sits close next door. 

Despite the space being filled with vintage charm, there’s a kind of organised chaos to it all. The floor might have an old rug with faded patterns that don't quite match the couch, and the coffee table—half-full of magazines, books, and a stray mug—couldn’t be called tidy, but it’s the kind of mess that makes the space feel lived-in.

The thought makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

You lead him inside, wearing a loose, earthy sweater and faded denim jeans, a marked contrast to the polished image he’s gotten used to seeing in magazines. You still look beautiful, but comfortable. Not model-perfect. 

“You can set up wherever you’d like,” you say casually. Your voice is warm, and easy-going in a way that’s almost disarming.

Looking around, he realises for the first time that none of your team is here. And, weirdly, it unsettles him.

He finds himself pausing for a moment when he notices a worn book sitting on the coffee table, the edges curled with time. He’s always had a soft spot for books, the way their covers could tell so much about the person who owned them. And that book? It’s clearly one you’ve read over and over.

His fingers hover over his camera lens for a moment, and before he can stop himself, he mutters, “You read a lot?”

You glance over, surprised. “Hmm?”

“The book.” He gestures vaguely, “It looks well-loved.”

You laugh softly, a short, pleasant sound that makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t fully understand. “Oh, that? It’s nothing, really. Just something I found at a little bookstore in Paris. I’ve read it a million times, but... sometimes, it feels like you can always find something new in the pages, you know?”

Wonwoo opens his mouth, but no words come out. It's almost spinning his head around - the way that you're mixing together something so casual like a well-worn book with the detail that you got it in Paris. There's this weird grating of human and celebrity that he doesn't know how to deal with.

You seem to notice the shift in his gaze, your smile becoming a little softer. But instead of explaining more, you walk over to the window and lean against the frame, glancing outside. “So, how do you want to do this today?” you ask, clearly trying to get back on track.

Wonwoo nods, snapping himself back into work mode. “Let’s start with some natural shots,” he says briskly, pointing to the light streaming in through the window. “You can stay by the window, maybe. I’ll catch the light.”

You agree without hesitation, sitting down on the frame. 

The shots begin. You sit, your eyes thoughtful but distant, as if lost in some thought. He clicks the shutter a few times, and the room is silent except for the rhythmic sound of the camera.

The more he shoots, the more he finds himself paying attention to the small things. The way you absentmindedly twirl a lock of hair between your fingers. The way your posture softens after a few minutes, like you’re forgetting he’s there, and yet still poised.

The next shot clicks, and you look up at him, catching his eye. 

“Is that good?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He swallows, feeling a slight tension in his throat that wasn’t there before. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

The words come out without thinking, and he can feel his cheeks flush slightly at the sincerity with which he says them. He's fiddling with his camera settings again, trying to adjust the light for the shot, as you sidle over to the small vintage record player near the window. The soft crackling sound of a jazz record fills the air. 

He doesn’t expect it when you suddenly speak, your voice soft but with an underlying curiosity.

“So,” you say, not turning around, your fingers gently tapping against the edge of the record player, “I’ve been wondering… you’ve been pretty quiet this whole time. Not like the others. Why is that?”

Wonwoo glances up, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t look at you directly, still adjusting the focus on the lens, anything to avoid eye contact.

“I mean,” you laugh lightly, spinning the record player’s dial, “everyone else I work with is always talking. About work, about their lives, about whatever’s trending—people like to talk, especially when they’re nervous. You’re the only one who hasn’t said much about anything.”

There’s an open quality in your tone, no judgment, no pressure, just curiosity. And for some reason, that makes him feel even more exposed than if you had pried into his personal life directly.

“I guess I’m not a fan of small talk,” Wonwoo mutters, setting the camera down a little too abruptly, feeling a tightness in his chest. “I don’t really need to fill the silence.”

You turn to face him then, and for the first time, he notices how unguarded your expression is. There’s no fake smile or calculated pose—just an interested look.

"I get that," you say, your voice now quieter, almost thoughtful. "But... do you ever feel like you miss out? I mean, silence is... great, but it’s also really lonely sometimes, isn’t it?"

"Not really,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “I’m fine with being on my own. I’ve always preferred it.”

You tilt your head, studying him with an intensity that makes him shift uncomfortably. "You know," you say, taking a step toward him, your voice soft but deliberate, "I always thought I’d be fine alone too. It's funny how we get so used to being surrounded by people, by noise, by the ‘right’ kind of company—when, in the end, it’s really the silence that’s the most honest."

Your words sink into him, a little unexpected, a little disorienting. There's a weight to them—like you’ve really thought about this. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his voice less guarded, almost teasing, but there’s an edge of curiosity there too.

You pause for a beat, a soft smile playing on your lips. There's something mischievous in the way your eyes twinkle. "Well," you begin, you're voice light, "what I mean is that maybe the real stuff gets lost when you get too good at hiding behind the quiet."

He raises an eyebrow, but before he can reply, you finish with a playful, almost theatric sigh: "Or maybe I'm just trying to get you to talk. You know, because I certainly don't want to be the only one in the spotlight in this room. It's exhausting, really."

He can't help it—he laughs. A quiet, breathy sound, but it’s real. Something about the absurdity of it all. Something about the way you deflect it all with that charming, nonchalant smile.

"You're a work in progress," you grin wider, eyes narrowing. "But I'm going to crack you open."

Wonwoo is still chuckling, a disbelieving snort of laughter he can't hide. He leans back in his chair, running his hand through his hair as he studies you with a wry smile. "Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’m the one who needs cracking open," he says, his tone half teasing, half resigned, as if he’s already lost the battle.

You pause for a moment, surprised that you've actually got him joining in on your jokes. But you don't press. Instead, you give him a sideways grin and lounge out over your statement, mustard couch. "Tell me, Mr Jeon - do you still think your opinion of me doesn't matter? Should I go back to hiding behind the perfect image for you to capture what everyone else already thinks of me?"

Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head. He can’t deny that something about you has started to chip away at his carefully cultivated indifference. "I don’t think you could ever hide, even if you tried."

The jazz record continues to hum in the background, and Wonwoo starts to wonder if he's finally found something worth shooting beyond the lens. 

When he makes it back home, the camera bag feels heavier than usual, and the moment he closes his front door, he's hit when the familiar sense of quiet. 

He dumps the camera bag on the kitchen counter and heads straight for his desk, flipping open his laptop with the enthusiasm of someone who’s about to dive into hours of editing. The usual dread of looking through the pictures fades as he opens the files. He didn’t think he’d be so invested in this shoot, especially not with you, of all people. But the truth is, the moment he starts scrolling through the shots, he’s a little bit stunned.

There are candid moments of you, captured so naturally. Your hair falls in your face as you laugh at something he barely remembers, the light coming in through the window bathing you in that soft golden glow like you were born for this. The quiet, unguarded moments—your fingers absentmindedly tapping against the coffee table, your eyes softened with a thought he’ll never fully know.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until the shot where you’re sitting by the window, gazing out at the street, completely oblivious to the lens. It’s raw. And weirdly, it’s beautiful in a way he didn’t anticipate.

With a sigh, he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

And damn it, now he’s got to figure out how to keep it professional when all he wants to do is scroll back through these photos of you for the next few hours.

He grabs his coffee again, takes another sip, and mutters under his breath, "What’s the point of professionalism, anyway?"

Wonwoo is not thrilled about attending the gala. In fact, he's pretty sure if he could just get lost in the crowd and pretend he's not there, he would. But, alas, work. He's there, standing awkwardly by the hors d'oeuvres table, holding the camera like it's a shield. The entire place is dripping in opulence - golden chandeliers, champagne towers, and a sea of glittering gowns and tuxedos so shiny they could be mistaken for mirrors.  It's the kind of event where everyone’s either a billionaire or pretending to be one.

And then, of course, there’s you.

You move through the room like you've got a personal spotlight, laughing with people he's never heard of, shaking hands with people he has. The dress you're wearing is stunning, too, naturally - deep emerald green, with a neckline just high enough to make it look elegant but low enough to make him briefly question his entire career as a photographer. He should be focused on the job. But you're flashing that perfect smile, chatting with rich old men and influencers alike, completely different from the version of you he saw in your apartment just a week ago, laughing over a worn book.

He watches you interact with the other guests, a dance of small talk, well-placed compliments, and calculated interest, and suddenly, he feels like he’s been shrunk down to the size of a cockroach. If someone took a photo of him, An intruder in your world would be the title. The camera, which he thought would make him feel a little less out of place, feels heavy in his hands, as though it might give away the fact that he’s just not meant to be here.

You glance in his direction, catching his eye from across the room. He freezes. He can almost hear you sighing internally before you offer a small, knowing smile.

"Mr. Jeon!" Your voice floats toward him over the clink of glasses and high-pitched laughter. "How are we doing? Getting some good shots?"

He stares at you, blinking. You’re asking him in that casual, sweet tone that’s just different from your “public persona” voice. It’s like a crack in the glass, and he suddenly feels... disoriented. The contrast is so stark that for a second, he forgets how to respond.

"Uh—yeah, I mean, everything’s fine," he stammers, adjusting the camera lens like it might offer him some sort of escape from his discomfort. "Just, you know. Capturing the glamour." He motions vaguely at the glittering scene around him, feeling more awkward by the second. His fingers hover over the shutter button, but they hesitate.

You laugh, a polite, rehearsed sound. "Ah, yes. Glamour. The thing I do so well." You flash him a smile that could melt diamonds and suddenly he feels like he’s about two seconds away from accidentally snapping a picture of his own nervous breakdown.

The silence between you stretches just long enough for him to feel like the entire room is waiting for him to speak. He clears his throat. "It’s... different, isn’t it? Here?"

You tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow, as if trying to gauge whether he’s joking or not. "Different?" You laugh again, but this time it’s more self-deprecating. "I guess. But it’s what I’m used to. The lights, the faces. I mean, it’s all a bit much sometimes, but..." You trail off, and for a second, it feels like you're letting something slip.

But then someone else approaches you, pulling you into a conversation about some charity auction or art gala (he stops paying attention, realising he’s been trying to capture your attention too long), and just like that, the moment is over. You slip right back into the role, offering another perfect smile, your body language straightening, as if you’re suddenly filled with all the energy you didn’t seem to have a second ago.

The space feels suffocating all of a sudden, and Wonwoo wonders if he should have stayed home, maybe edited a few more of those photos, or gone for a walk—anything to avoid being a part of this gilded zoo. He looks through the lens, catching another shot of you laughing with an older gentleman, your hand resting lightly on his arm. 

A loud crash breaks through the air.

Wonwoo's head snaps in the direction of the sound, instinctively lifting the camera as if it's somehow going to make sense of the situation. 

He spots a waiter, wide-eyed and mortified, standing frozen next to a toppled champagne tower. Glasses are shattered everywhere, a sea of bubbly liquid spilling across the pristine white carpet like some kind of modern art installation.

The room falls into a hushed silence.

He can feel the collective tension, the people who’d been laughing and chatting a second ago suddenly stiffening in disapproval. Someone gasps—probably just for dramatic effect—but the truth is, everyone’s too rich, too important to react with anything other than mild disdain. A few uncomfortable glances are exchanged, and one of the older men starts muttering under his breath, his hands clutching his glass like it’s a lifeline.

And then, like someone flipping a switch, you’re there.

You glide through the crowd with a purposeful ease that makes everything else fade into the background. People part for you as though they know exactly what you’re about to do. The smile that had been plastered on your face during the earlier conversation is gone, replaced with a soft, serious expression, one that’s sharp in its concern.

"Excuse me," you say, your voice suddenly commanding but not unkind. Wonwoo can tell the waiter is waiting for the blowout, the yelling, the anger - but it's not there.

"It's alright, don't worry. It's just a few glasses. Are you hurt?"

The waiter shakes his head, and you kneel down beside him to start gathering up the broken shards of glass with careful motion. "Let me help, then."

The people around you are still hesitant, staring awkwardly, unsure whether they should step in or just stand back and pretend like nothing's happening. But you’re focused on the task at hand, moving with precision, completely unaffected by the sea of disapproving looks that surround you.

Wonwoo finds himself frozen again, his camera half-raised. His finger hesitates on the shutter button, unsure if he should capture the moment. You don’t seem to care about the image you're creating, not in the way you do for the cameras. Here, you’re just someone helping out, unbothered by the chaos unfolding around you. 

After you finish clearing up the last of the glass, you stand up and dust your hands off, flashing a quick smile to the waiter, who looks completely relieved. You stand tall, taking in the now-silent room with a playful glint in your eye.

“Well," you say, wiping your hands on your dress, "I always knew I was good at breaking the ice, but I didn’t think it’d be literal this time."

The room goes quiet for a beat, and then, just like that, a few people start to chuckle. Someone claps lightly, another offers a small cheer, and the tension evaporates into a burst of laughter.

You throw your hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, don’t all applaud at once. Just trying to keep things interesting around here."

With that, the conversation picks up again. The guests move, shift, and suddenly, the night feels like it’s back in motion. Wonwoo watches from a distance, surprised at how quickly the entire atmosphere shifted. You just defused the room with a smile and a joke, as if it had all been part of the plan.

"Hey," you're walking up to him, stepping into his personal space as the final whirlwind of flashing cameras wraps up an evening of too many glasses of champagne and handshakes that feel more like a chore than a greeting. "What are you doing after this?"

Wonwoo looks up, startled. "Uh, I… well, I was just going to head back. Got a few edits to finish up," he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

You tilt your head, studying him with a slight grin. "That sounds like fun," you tease. "But I’m guessing it’s not exactly going to be a good time."

He pauses, feeling almost embarrassed for a moment, before shrugging. "I guess I could skip it."

A small beat of silence passes between you, and then you speak again, quieter this time. "You know," you start, your voice softer than before, "if you don’t have anything better to do... I’d, uh, actually kind of like to go out. No fancy people, no cameras. Just… I don't know, something normal."

Wonwoo looks at you for a beat, wondering if you're asking him to go with him, as the corners of his lips twitch upwards. "You mean no red carpets and champagne?"

You laugh, soft and genuine. "Exactly," you say, your voice laced with a touch of vulnerability. "Just, you know, being normal for once."

The way you say "normal" almost makes it sound like a forbidden word in your world, and Wonwoo feels a flicker of something.

"I’m in," he says, the words slipping out before he can think too much about them.

You give him a small, almost shy smile. "Alright. You follow me."

It’s an hour later, and you’re driving through the city, the sound of the tyres on the road mixing with the faint hum of the radio. You didn’t tell him where you were going, just that it was "something fun." Wonwoo’s pretty sure you’ve never driven anywhere that didn’t require a driver, but here you are—on a small, crowded street near the heart of the city, pulling up to a diner with neon lights flickering like they haven’t been replaced in a decade.

"This place?" Wonwoo asks, looking out the window at the 24/7 diner with its retro sign and low-key vibe.

"Yep. We said normal, right? Well, this is as normal as it gets."

He raises an eyebrow, but before he can protest, you’re already getting out of the car, leaving him no choice but to follow.

Inside, it’s a whole different world. The diner smells faintly of coffee and fried food, and the clink of mugs and chatter of a few late-night patrons makes the place feel strangely cosy. There’s a jukebox in the corner, and despite the place being stuck in a time warp, you both sit down at a booth, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you slide in.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the normal kind of silence that feels more like breathing than awkwardness. And then, finally, you speak.

"You want to know something crazy?" You say, looking down at the menu, though you made it clear in the car that you've already memorised it. 

Wonwoo looks up, his brow furrowing slightly as he nods.

"This is probably the first time in a while I haven't felt like I have to perform. Which is, actually, crazy. Because I'm hanging out with a professional photographer who's being paid to capture every moment of my life." You let out a disbelieving scoff, your lips curling into a grimace-like smile.

"I get that," he replies, his voice softer than he expects. "It's different for me too. I'm not sure I remember the last time I spoke to any of my friends, other than my flatmate, who insists that we have a catch-up meeting every day."

You chuckle, the crinkles of your smile flattening out. 

The waitress arrives, interrupting for a moment, and you order a milkshake without hesitation. He orders something random, revelling in the thrill of not thinking too much about anything.

"I get lonely sometimes," you say after your order arrives, so quietly that Wonwoo almost misses it. "I know it’s weird, I mean, people are always around me. But it’s like... they don’t really see me. They only see the version of me they expect."

He's not sure if you're still tipsy, although the rosy flush of your cheeks suggests so, or if you now feel very comfortable with him. 

Wonwoo isn’t sure what to say, so he just lets the silence settle for a moment, letting your words hang in the air like a soft echo.

"You know," he says after a beat, his voice lighter than before, "I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can juggle both a charity gala and a diner milkshake at 3 AM with such grace."

You snort, blowing bubbles into the drink that leave splashes of pink liquid sizzling on the diner table. The sight is enough to set Wonwoo off too, laughter spilling out of him in a way that's only possible in the early hours of the morning. 

"I should take a photo of that," he chuckles as you give him a large grin, the straw still sticking out of your teeth as you mop up the spilt drink. 

But he doesn't. Doesn't even think to take his camera out of its bag. 

Instead, he just watches you—really watches you—for the first time tonight, as you sit there, messy and unapologetic, with your eyes twinkling. And you're not the person everyone in the ballroom thought you were. 

"Maybe we should do this more often," you say, your voice unexpectedly soft as you look up at him. 

Wonwoo nods, the corner of his mouth curving up in the smallest of smiles. "Yeah. Maybe we should."

You've taken a surprising interest in Wonwoo’s regular work. Since you got him to admit that this project wasn’t really his usual gig, you've made it your personal mission to dig deeper. 70% of your questions have revolved around what he actually enjoys doing, the kind of work that doesn’t come with velvet ropes or high society guests. It’s a little like watching a puzzle slowly get pieced together—a mixture of curiosity and the way you just can't let go of something that intrigues you.

So, when you mention, "I think it's only fair you show me what you usually do," it’s not entirely out of the blue.

"Alight, alright," Wonwoo mutters, realising that he owes it to you to let you peek inside his world too. "But don't expect anything glamorous. Magazine spreads don't feature heavily."

Your eyebrows shoot up in an exaggerated gasp that has him rolling his eyes. "I'm not expecting you to change into a suit and tie, if that's what you're worried about." You grin. "but if you do, I'll totally snap some behind-the-scenes shots."

"Don't get any ideas," he mutters, but there's a soft laugh behind his words. 

You look like an archaeologist discovering ancient treasures as you step into the studio, and Wonwoo has to resist the urge to photograph the look on your face. He wasn't lying when he said it wasn't much, but it's quieter than the outside world, which is just the way Wonwoo likes it. The walls are lined with a few scattered prints, some framed, others just leaning against the wall, like they’ve been left to gather dust for the sake of catching a different light. The easel in the corner holds the remnants of his last attempt to paint, the workbench cluttered with film rolls, empty coffee cups, and a few stray brushes.

You pause in the doorway, taking it all in.

"So," you begin, "where's the real deal? Show me your favourites."

He shrugs and walks over to a table filled with various photo equipment, adjusting his glasses as he picks up a roll of film. "I’m not sure what you’d consider my 'thing,' but I mostly shoot for personal projects. I like experimental work. I mean..." He looks over at you, and for a second, there's a flicker of something more, something deeper. "I like showing things that don't get seen. Telling stories that don’t get told."

You step further into the room, your curiosity piqued. "The more I learn, the more I marvel at the fact that you chose to do photograph me," you tease. 

He looks back at you, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "It's good to try new things sometimes. And, well ... I'm not so sure you're story has been entirely captured yet."

He pulls a print down from a shelf, careful with the edges, and walks over to where you're sitting. "This," he says, sitting next to you, "is one of my newer pieces. It’s… different from the usual stuff I shoot. It’s a little raw, a little wild."

The picture is a little hard to make out - a blur of colours and light, like a dream caught in motion. There's an image of a figure - slightly distorted and bathed in neon blue and orange, wrapped in streaks of light that seem to bend and curve in ways that don't make sense. It almost looks like the figure is dissolving into the frame itself, as though they’re becoming part of the world rather than a separate subject within it.

"It’s a long exposure," he continues, "but I played with the focus to distort things more than I usually do. You can see the movement in it—like the person isn’t static. They’re not just there. They’re changing. Becoming."

You tilt your head, your gaze flickering back and forth as you try to make sense of the image.

"It’s unsettling," you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

Wonwoo nods, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "That’s what I like about it. People always expect something clear, something neat when they look at photos. But sometimes, the chaos is what’s real. The blur, the overlap of light, it’s how I see things."

"It’s like… you know when you try to hold onto a moment, but it keeps slipping away? That’s what this is. The image is still, but everything around it keeps moving. It doesn’t stay still, no matter how much you want it to."

You reach out, fingertips brushing the edge of the frame, tracing the glowing streaks of light. "It’s almost like you’re trying to capture the space between things."

He pauses, eyes flickering to yours as if reading your expression. "It’s like that with people, too, right? You think you know them, but then they change. Or maybe you change. And all of a sudden, you’re looking at them and wondering who they really are. Who they were. Who they’re becoming."

You’re silent for a moment, but your gaze hasn't left his and it's piercing into him with all of the unspoken words.

And then you're eyes snap to something behind him, and he feels a little empty in the void of your gaze. A small smile slips across your lips. And you're gone, moving quickly out of your seat to get a closer look at whatever has pulled you away from him.

Wonwoo's head swivels around, like if he loses sight of you, you'll disappear. 

"Now, this is unexpected."

Your voice is laced with that mischievous tone, and it snaps Wonwoo back into reality, his gaze darting to where you're now standing, eyes fixated on the shelf behind him.

He feels his cheeks heat up before he even registers why. The camera equipment on the shelf, partially obscured by a few stray photo albums, is a large, well-worn camera with an impressive lens. But it’s not the camera that’s got your attention—it’s the stack of photos beside it.

He swallows. "Oh, those. They're… um, just some old shoots,” he mutters, reaching for the pile as quickly as he can.

But you're already stepping closer, your grin widening as you grab one from the top of the stack. Your eyes light up as you hold it up, and it’s immediately clear why you’re grinning. 

The photo is a high-end fashion shot, one of those artsy ones. It features a model—clad in nothing but strategically placed shadows and some very expensive body paint, in what can only be described as sultry poses. The subject's entire form is captured with the kind of grace and sensuality you normally associate with glossy magazines and high-end ads.

You raise an eyebrow. “So… this is what you’re hiding in here?”

Wonwoo, face flushed to a shade of pink that doesn’t belong anywhere near a professional photographer, clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s not what you think. It was a concept shoot. A long time ago. For... art.”

“Art.” You repeat the word slowly, like you're savouring it. “A concept shoot. Right.” You peer closer at the picture, almost squinting like you’re studying the fine details. “Well, I have to say, I didn’t expect you to have such a niche portfolio.”

He snatches the photo from your hands, but you’re quicker than him, leaning in just a little too close for comfort. "Come on, don't be shy. I'm sure these shots went for a pretty penny. You should be proud of them."

 “It was a collaboration with a friend. We were experimenting with lighting and shadows. It wasn’t meant to be, like, that kind of shoot.”

You tilt your head and flash him a teasing smile. "Right. I'm sure it was all very tasteful."

“Stop it,” Wonwoo says, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual. He starts sorting through the other photos quickly, trying to hide the embarrassing ones. “There were plenty of clothes involved, okay? I mean, mostly clothed. Sometimes there weren’t.”

You laugh—genuine and loud—and Wonwoo has never felt more like a teenager caught in a lie.

"Don’t worry." You lean back casually, looking him up and down. “I’m not judging. Everyone needs a little fun with their camera work. Besides, I bet your models really appreciated your... attention to detail.”

“Oh my God, stop," he groans, hands covering his face.

"Oh, I know!" You jump up, the wideness of your grin setting of alarm bells in his head. Your body contorts into a lewd pose he's sure is captured in one of the photos. "Maybe you could shoot me like one of your French girls."

Wonwoo's brain is split in half between wanting to laugh at your stupid joke, and trying to stop his mind from digging any deeper into the way you look right now. He's never been more thankful for someone laughing so hard at their own joke that it gives him the time to remember to laugh too.

"Okay, okay, seriously though." You say, your words punctuated with breathy laughs. "I'd like to do a shoot in your style. Even if you don't use it for the feature, I'd like to have them - a little memory of the project."

He’s not sure what to make of it—after all, he’s never shot anything like that with someone like you. It’s one thing to let a stranger model for his more experimental projects, but someone who’s become... well, important to him? That complicates things.

You seem to sense his hesitation, so you quickly soften your expression, dropping the teasing tone. “I mean, no pressure. You don’t have to,” you add, but your smile stays. “I just think it would be fun, you know? Something a little out of the ordinary.”

He shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to think of a way to deflect without sounding awkward.  But then, he catches the way you’re looking at him—expectant, yet light-hearted. And he knows there’s no way he can say no. And the idea of capturing you in his world - through his lens - is far too appealing.

"Alright," he finally says, "“I could set something up. But it won’t be anything like what you’re imagining,” he warns, though the faintest glimmer of a smile tugs at his lips. “You might hate it.”

"I highly doubt it." Your grin widens, and you step closer. "The camera loves me."

He struggles to disagree.

You follow Wonwoo into a dimly lit loft space. The high ceilings make the place feel vast and open, but the shadows, thick and heavy, seem to swallow any trace of warmth. The windows let in just enough light to make the space feel like it’s holding its breath. Concrete floors, industrial beams, exposed brick—this place is a world apart from the glamorous venues he's captured you in so far. 

There's no luxurious set, no artfully arranged props, no stylists running around with last-minute adjustments. Just you and him. And a collection of cameras, lenses, and other mysterious equipment scattered about the space.

"We'll start here," Wonwoo's voice is firmer than he intends, and he hopes you can hear the edge of excitement underneath his words. He’s already moving toward the equipment, setting up the camera on a tripod with a smooth, practised hand.

You take a deep breath, looking a little more nervous than he expected. "What's the concept? Just… me in a room full of shadows?” You try to make light of it, but your voice betrays a hint of apprehension.

He glances over his shoulder, catching your gaze for the briefest moment, and his lips curl into a faint smile. “Something like that. I want to capture you as you are, not as the world expects you to be.”

He steps toward you, then pauses. “But it’s up to you. You can be whoever you want to be in front of the camera.”

You take a breath, almost like you're accepting something, and step deeper into the room. Wonwoo can feel his pulse pick up just a little. Something about your movements makes it hard to look away, even as he tries to keep his focus on the camera. 

As his gaze probes deeper, Wonwoo realises something. You're so used to being a perfect image that now, here, in the quiet, you have no idea what to do with yourself.

His breath catches as he presses the shutter for the first time. The soft click breaks the silence, but he doesn't lower the camera. His eyes stay on you, unable to tear away; even if he should be focused on the technicalities - the lighting, the exposure, the composition - he's not. He's seeing the cracks. The little parts of you that you've been hiding. 

Another click. And another. His fingers move over the controls, adjusting the focus, framing you just so - but all the while, acutely aware of every tiny shift in your body. The way you inhale, the way you let go of something hidden, and your shoulders relax, just slightly. 

"Good," he murmurs, though he barely recognises his own voice. The words are soft, his tone low, almost like a breath rather than a command.

You shift again. There's no thought to it, just a fluid movement, as if you're letting go of some invisible restraint. It's an instinctive thing, Wonwoo realises. You're not really posing anymore.

The camera clicks again, capturing the stillness in you, the way you seem to dissolve into the shadows, becoming part of the room. Part of the moment. He knows instantly that it's going to be his favourite.

For a split second, he wonders if you know what you're doing to him. If you know how you're affecting him, even without meaning to. His heart beats a little faster. 

He doesn't lower the camera, not yet, not wanting to lose the moment.

"Okay, that's enough," he says finally, voice low and deliberate. Even as he says it, he's not sure if he wants to stop. He wants more. But it's not just the image he's chasing now. It's something else. 

You reemerge, the colour of your confidence returning as you step out of the camera frame. "Was that okay?"

Wonwoo isn't completely sure what to say in response. If he should tell you that he wants to restart the entire feature, or that he's never felt like he's seen anyone as much as he just did. So he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I want you to see the full vision, so I'll show you once they're edited, but I think they're going to be the best ones."

A beaming smile is released onto your face. It's heart-wrenchingly endearing how proud you are of yourself. "I'm so glad. I don't know if you noticed, but I was a little nervous about this one."

He lets out a little chuckle, his head hanging slightly as he looks to the floor, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips. "I couldn't tell. You were," he clears his throat, hands moving to adjust the settings on the camera again, "perfect. And I mean it. It's ... not just the shot. It's you." The words come out in a rush, but even as he says them, he’s certain they’re true.

He wonders, fleetingly, if you hear the difference. If you sense the subtle change in his tone—the way he can’t quite look away from you now, the way his eyes linger just a little too long.

You don’t respond immediately, and for a brief, agonising second, he’s unsure of how you’ll take it. Will you laugh it off? Will you brush it aside with that carefree charm you wear like a second skin?

But then, your smile softens, your gaze a little less playful, and you step closer. "Do we need any more?"

"I don't think so," he pauses. "Unless there's anything you want to try?"

"Well..." You look nervous, like you're trying to make your mind up about something. Your fingers play absently with the sleeve of your shirt, tugging at the fabric as if it’s a lifeline. "Maybe ... maybe I could try something different?"

Wonwoo's eyes flicker up to meet yours. He's not quite sure what you're asking, and it both terrifies and excites him in ways he's not ready to admit. He leans back slightly, considering it.

"It's your shoot," he says softly, "If you want to do something different, we can. You sound like you've got something in mind?"

You exhale slowly, and the air feels thick, drawn tight with possibility. There’s a hesitation in the way you look at him, but then you take a step forward, your presence commanding yet gentle, a stark contrast to the vulnerability in your eyes.

"The photos in your studio," your voice is soft and low, as though the words themselves are a kind of confession. "The ones ... with no clothes." Your gaze flickers briefly, almost shy, before you steady yourself again. "I want to try that. I want to see what that feels like."

Wonwoo blinks at you, his breath hitching for just a second as the words register. His fingers instinctively tighten around the camera, but he doesn’t lower it. He can’t look away from you now.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rougher than he intended, though it’s more a response to the sudden surge of emotions than anything else. The suggestion itself isn’t unfamiliar, but the weight of it, coming from you, catches him off guard.

You nod slowly. 

He breathes slowly, trying to steady himself, but the air feels tight, like his lungs have forgotten how to expand properly. Wonwoo clears his throat, suddenly aware of the weight of the camera in his hands—of how utterly out of place it feels now. He thought he had control of this situation, of this shoot, of everything. And now he feels entirely, completely, out of control.

"Okay," he says finally, voice low, his throat dry.

You exhale, a small, almost imperceptible breath of relief, and for a moment, you both just stand there. Wonwoo watches you, his gaze tracing the small movements of your fingers, the way you breathe, the slight shift in your posture. You’re standing there, raw and vulnerable in a way that no one else ever sees, and yet you’ve asked him to witness it.

His chest tightens.

"Whenever you're ready," he murmurs, trying to sound as professional as possible, but the words come out softer than he means. He takes a step back, his heart pounding louder now, but he’s not sure if it’s from the anticipation of the shot or something else entirely.

You move slowly, agonisingly slowly, towards the chair that's hidden in the corner of the room and pull it into the camera frame. The clip holding your hair back is the first thing to go, and even watching you shake the tresses free feels like a glimpse of something he's not meant to see. Wonwoo's breath hitches as your fingers hesitate against the buttons of your shirt.

You look up at him, eyes glittering in the light of the loft. "Can you talk me through it?"

Wonwoo gulps, his brain desperately trying to keep a tether to his thoughts. 

His voice is strained when he finally speaks, a quiet rasp that betrays his nerves. "I - uh - yeah. Sure." He clears his throat again, trying to steady himself. "Just take your time. There's no rush. I want you to feel comfortable."

You nod, but your gaze doesn’t leave him. It’s heavy, almost expectant, and Wonwoo feels it pressing down on him like the air in the room has thickened with each passing second.

His heart races, and he forces himself to look away from you, staring at the camera for a moment to regain some semblance of control. But when he finally glances back, there’s no denying it: you're not just in front of the camera. You're right there, your presence inescapable. The air crackles between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer despite the distance.

You slowly unbutton your shirt, each movement measured and deliberate. The soft rustle of fabric seems deafening in the silence. Wonwoo tries to focus on the camera - on the framing, the lighting - by the sight of you undoing the buttons is sending jolts through him, making it hard to concentrate.

"Wait, stop." He's struggling to get out more than a few words, but he realises he has to explain himself as your head whips around, alarmed. "That shot - if you push the shoulder down a little -"

"I'm not sure I quite get it," your voice is a quiet invitation. He doesn't know if its a test, or something far more dangerous than that. 

He moves slowly, not wanting to startle you. And, if he's being honest, not sure that he can handle being any closer. But he's started now, and he can't not go through with it just because he's nervous about seeing skin. Focusing on his task, Wonwoo's hands gingerly pull the loose fabric of your shirt, draping it down the side of your upper arm, the fabric slipping with an almost unbearable grace, revealing the curve of your shoulder, the soft line of your skin. Wonwoo feels his pulse spike, his breath coming in shallow bursts as his fingers brush against the bare skin of your arm. It’s delicate, unintentional contact, but it feels like an electric shock, jarring and intimate all at once.

You hold your breath, your gaze fixed on his hands, your body still. 

“Just like that,” he says, his voice quiet, as though speaking louder might shatter this delicate balance between you. “Now, tilt your head just a little to the left. Keep your eyes soft... like you're looking into something just out of reach.”

Your eyes flicker, a knowing glint passing through them. “Like I’m seeing something I shouldn’t?”

Wonwoo’s stomach tightens, a shiver creeping down his spine at the way you put it. His hands hover over the camera, but for a moment, he forgets the frame, forgets everything except the weight of the moment.

"Exactly," he breathes, almost afraid to admit it aloud, but the words escape him. He’s standing so close now, every muscle in his body taut, straining against the pull of something he doesn't know how to define.

You do as he asks, your eyes softening, lips parting ever so slightly, as if you’re leaning into the invitation.

The camera shakes in his hands, and for a second, he worries that you’ll notice the tremor, that you'll see how much this is affecting him. But you don’t. Your focus is unwavering.

“Can you… can you move your hand to your collarbone?” he murmurs, barely trusting himself to speak the request aloud. “Just… trace it, like it’s the only thing you’re focused on.”

You nod, and there’s an eerie stillness in the air as your fingers drift up to the curve of your neck. Wonwoo feels like he’s drowning, like every movement you make pulls him deeper into this quiet, dangerous place between photographer and subject, between the lens and the reality unfolding just beyond it.

Each click of the shutter feels like a bullet leaving a gun.

Your fingers are back on the buttons before he can realise that the moment has moved on, and you let the shirt fall, the fabric slipping to the floor with a soft whisper. He can’t breathe for a moment.

You stand before him, unguarded, vulnerable, and yet there’s something about the way you hold yourself—so composed, so intentional—that makes him swallow back every word that he tries to form.

Your eyes lock onto his again, and it’s like time stops. “How’s the lighting?” Your voice is steady, calm, but the tension in it is undeniable.

Wonwoo’s throat is dry as he forces himself to focus. "The light... it's perfect." He clears his throat, his voice tight. "You look perfect. Just... just keep moving, slowly. Let the camera catch it all."

You nod, your lips curling into that familiar smile that has him reeling.

Wonwoo’s pulse quickens, but he doesn’t dare look away. He’s caught in the gravity of your gaze, drawn into the quiet intensity of the moment. He raises the camera, his fingers trembling just slightly as he adjusts the lens. The click of the shutter still sounds harsh, but it doesn’t break the tension.

Wonwoo almost drops the camera when your fingers hook around the loops of your pants. 

You slide them off in fluid motion, far quicker than the shirt. The smile on your face is more playful now, taunting and teasing. "What were those poses again?" 

Wonwoo’s breath catches in his throat, his hands freezing just above the camera as the image of you in front of him—the subtle arch of your back, the way your skin catches the light—burns itself into his memory. He can’t look away, and it’s like everything in the room sharpens.

"Stop," he whispers, his voice shaking. "You’re—"

He cuts himself off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. How could he describe the storm he feels brewing inside of him? The way his pulse is beating in time with the shutter clicks. The way he’s watching you, but feels like he’s barely holding onto himself, like the space between him and you has closed to a point where it feels impossible to stay just the photographer.

“Stop?” you repeat, tilting your head, the playful glint in your eyes both a challenge and an invitation. "You want me to stop?"

"I—" He clears his throat, trying to force his words into something coherent. You take a step closer, and the words fail him. 

You stop a few inches away from him, your breath mingling with his, and for a split second, you both stand there, locked in a stare that feels like an eternity. Wonwoo's heart races, and he can hear the rush of blood in his ears, but the sound of your breath, shallow and steady, is louder than everything else.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, and the way you say his name—so softly, so deliberately—has his chest tightening even more.

His heart stutters for a second, and before he can think about it, before he can second-guess himself, he lowers the camera, his hand almost involuntarily reaching for you.

“Are you sure?” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t say anything at first. Instead, your fingers brush against the fabric of his shirt, dancing between the creases. The world seems to spin a little.

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice steady but low. “Are you?”

Wonwoo’s pulse thunders in his ears, and he thinks he's nodding his head, but he's not sure. He swears he can feel the heat radiating off of you in waves. The tension is almost unbearable now, and his hands are shaking so badly that he’s not sure if he should step back or close the space completely.

Before he can decide, you close the gap for him, your lips brushing against his in the gentlest of kisses. It’s soft at first, tentative—like you’re both waiting for the other to pull away—but when Wonwoo doesn’t, you deepen it just enough to make his head spin.

Everything—his thoughts, his control, his self-restraint—fractures.

He pulls you closer, his hand finding the curve of your back as he deepens the kiss. He can feel you shiver as his warm hands trace the exposed skin. He has to hold back a guttural moan at the feeling of your body pressed against his.

Your hands have found his hair, tangling your fingers through the strands and feeding off of the reactions, tugging a little every time he grumbles against your lips. A small gasp leaves your lips as he pulls away from your mouth, burying into your neck, which stretches prettily with each biting kiss he leaves. 

"Is this how all your photo shoots go?" Even with your head tilted back, voice breathy as his fingers grasp onto your waist, you still find time to tease him. A small whine leaves you as his lips abandon your skin.

"You'll believe me if I say no?" His throat is scratchy, his voice raw, and it comes out more as a question. 

You laugh. "Yes - I, yes, I believe you."

The silence feels unbearably tension, like both of you are trying to blindly navigate the other's feelings. Neither comfortable enough to take the next step forward.

"What did -"

"I thought -"

Your words stumble together as you search for the right way to break the tension. Wonwoo stops, not pressing you to continue, but his grip tightens on your waist slightly, a silent question hanging in the air. 

"I was just - I wasn't sure you'd want to do this, too." You finally say. You still have that teasing smile, but your voice is small, almost unsure. 

"I do," his voice is low, rough, and there's something tender there too. "I really do."

Your lips twitch upwards, a fleeting smile curving the corners of your mouth as you move closer again. "Then, what happens next?"

Wonwoo's head darts around, looking around the dim loft. There's nothing there, other than his equipment and a few chairs - nothing particularly helpful in this scenario. Although, he should admit, he wasn't expecting anything like this when he'd set it up.

"We could go somewhere else, if that's what you want to do?"

Your eyes follow his gaze, realising the dilemma.

"But I'm already half undressed." You bat your eyelashes innocently, and he knows you're fully aware of what you're doing to him. Yet, that doesn't prevent his trousers from feeling way too tight. 

"I-" his breath catches, his fingers digging into your side. "I guess we'll have to stay here then."

"I guess so," you grin, and he wants nothing more than to pull you back in. So, he does. It's messy, primal, a tangle of limbs as your hands sloppily undo his shirt and his look for anything and everything he can reach. He doesn't miss your noise of appreciation when his shirt falls to the floor. 

Soon, his hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling you up in one swift motion and carrying you until you hit the nearest wall. You're panting, your eyes wild and hair tangled as you grab at his neck, pulling his lips back to yours. 

It's not long before the rest of your clothes join the others on the floor. He feels a flutter of shyness as you take him in, eyes roaming across his body. But you're smiling, wide and joyful, the soft flesh of your thighs squeezing tighter on his hips. 

"Fuck, I always thought you were hot, but I can't believe you were hiding this underneath those baggy sweaters."

Wonwoo can feel the blush running up his neck like a schoolboy being complimented for the first time. His heart is hammering in his chest, a warm rush spreading through him from head to toe as he tries to work out what his eyes should be focusing on.

"I wasn’t expecting any of this. You... you’re making me nervous," he admits with a shy laugh, his hands feeling clammy against your skin. "I mean, I'm sure I'm not the first person to say you're beautiful, but I think you're so much more than what they see."

Your smile softens for a moment, and you reach forward, fingers grazing lightly over his arm, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. "I'd like you to know all of me."

The words are soft, tender, and you can probably hear his heart fluttering. And, all at the same time, the implication of them is making more than his heart flutter. 

"You're sure?" His body presses against yours even more, pushing your back further into the wall behind you. 

"Please," you nod breathily, and that's all he needs. "I want you."

His hips grind against you, head swirling at the feeling as your arms wrap around his neck for stability. "I don't have-" he manages to choke out. 

"It's fine, I'm on the pill. Just - just fuck me, please?"

His head buries into your shoulder, body twitching at your words. Pushing inside of you, the pleasure is immediate. Your hips are moving back onto him as far as you can against the wall, and his hands are firmly clenched around the flesh of your ass, holding you up in an iron grip. And you sound so good, and - more than that, you feel so good, so unbelievably good, that he's gasping out your name between thrusts.

Nonsensical words are babbling out of your mouth too; hot, dirty words of praise that only spur him on further. Your nails dig into his back, and then his hair, and then back again, like you can't pick which part of him you want to touch more. 

And fuck, you're so beautiful. Like a goddess in the low lighting of the room - but he's too scared to tell you that just yet. Soft and hard and warm against him, surrounding him, engulfing him. 

It's not long before he can feel you clenching around him, one hand clinging onto his shoulders and the other snaking between your legs. The muscles of his arms are burning slightly, but it feels too good to stop now. You're dragging him with you, panting moans with each pulse. You press your lips against his one more time, and it's all it takes to push you both over the edge.

After a few moments, he lifts his head from your shoulder and looks at you, a tender smile on his face. His lips press against yours gently, sighing with soft pants.

"Shit," You breathe, a small giggle bubbling out of you. The sound is so sweet it knocks any remaining wind out of him. 

Wonwoo chuckles, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your jaw as he holds you in place.

Your smile is warm and teasing, and you press your lips to his for a second longer. "If I had the camera, I'd capture that look forever."

[narcjsistx]

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 | OS

sae itoshi x fem reader ; words: 1.4k (1487)

coming from this event, second day, 19/12

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: that your boyfriend was sometimes distant was not a new thing. he often needed his space, both physical and mental, and you accepted this. but you did not expect him to put a match in the first place of the list on the day of your wedding anniversary

The pillowcase was slowly drying after collecting all those tears, but a wet feeling was still noticeable if you rested your cheek on it. Even though hours had passed, the wet feeling remained on your cheeks too. The room was silent, the only audible noise came from the flat-screen television, which with dazzling lights transmitted the face of your boyfriend, now husband, in his ReAl uniform. Hair combed as usual, the same serious face, the same Sae Itoshi. The only thing that still gave a little hype to his fans was the ring that reflected on his finger, which he had been wearing for exactly a year now. Your wedding had left the entire football world speechless, because no one would have ever expected to see Sae Itoshi, the Japanese prodigy, become a mass of love for a simple girl

Yet, exactly one year ago, Sae had sworn to himself that your dreams, your ideals, your everything would now also become his inspiration; that now, no matter what the situation, he would do anything to be by your side. Your dream was to have a normal first anniversary, but why he wasn't there with you? What happened to his heartfelt promises?

It's that Sae, despite being a mass of love, remained Sae. Sae, who needs his space from time to time; Sae, who loves solitude as much as he loves being with you; Sae, who nevertheless remains the most famous soccer player in Japan for his prodigious skills. You had to understand that something like this would happen sooner or later, but you didn't expect it on this day

The game begins. You watch your husband move nimbly among the opponents, who try in every way to keep him from getting close to the net

Your head still hurt a little from the little fight you had. This morning you had woken up with the intention of spending the most romantic day in the world with your husband; yet, when you woke up and didn't find him in bed next to you, you realized that there was a problem, or that maybe he was simply hungry and had gone earlier than expected to have breakfast in the kitchen. Getting out of bed you heard his voice talking on the phone to someone, and when you arrived in the living room he didn't even say 'good morning'

"I'm leaving. The team is one player short due to an injury, they asked me to play"

You had replied that he didn't have to accept, that he had literally asked for a day off just to be with you, and yet now he didn't seem to care as he packed all his usual things into his sports bag and left the house, leaving you sad and also a little disappointed. You couldn't explain how you, his wife, had been put in second place because of a stupid game. How could he have done it?

You and Sae had been together for years now, but never, never, absolutely never, he had put you second to soccer, which was strange actually. When you started dating him you had already gotten used to the idea that, if everything had gone well between you, you would always be second to his greatest passion; and yet, it had never happened, in fact, it had happened that he had canceled training to be with you. But why did it happen now that you were even married?

He was playing in a nearby stadium actually, a few kilometers from your house in sunny Madrid. For a moment you had the idea of taking the car and going with him, surprising him and forgetting about this situation, but you hadn't done it for the simple reason that you felt exaggeratedly annoyed. You have always been a calm and patient person, especially with Sae who you knew needed his space and, in some cases, his time. But now, wrapped up in your bed with the pillow to your chest and your gaze fixed on the television, calm and patience seemed to be only a distant and beautiful memory

The commentator starts talking in a rant just as your husband is frighteningly close to the opponent's goal, the ball tightly in his field of action. With a sharp and precise backheel the ball ends up in the net, causing the entire stadium to erupt in a hungry roar for more goals from the Japanese prodigy. Even though you were angry with him, deep down you couldn't help but be proud to see him shine, even if him being there had caused you pain and annoyance

The cameras are all focused on the boy, who with his usual nonchalance does nothing special. Scoring goals is extremely easy for him, more than once you have asked yourself if he actually puts in the least effort or if he just puts the autopilot on every time he enters the field. The precision with him kicks the ball is measured to the millimeter, and you have to say that it is the same he has always had with you since you have been together. It wasn't an easy cohabitation at the beginning, but you loved him and he loved you, so with patience you tried to understand how to reach a point of agreement

The second half begins. The opposing team marks him with a sort of rage, but the ball always comes back to your husband's feet, like a magnet. It only takes a few minutes before another goal, again by Sae, brings his team to an unmatched level, no longer reachable by the opposing team. It is impossible to recover 2 goals in less than 10 minutes, and then frankly the opponents seem a bit poor to you. And just as you predicted, the game ends with the spanish team winning and the crowd chanting your husband's name

You get out of bed, sitting on the mattress as the reporters come out to interview the players. You know Sae doesn't like being interviewed, so he'll probably be home in less than another hour; the air will probably be a little uncomfortable because of the little fight, but you sigh. It just happened

You are about to leave the room to go get a glass of water, when you hear your husband's voice on television. An interviewer caught him just as he was about to enter the players' exit corridor, the one that leads to the locker rooms

"Sae, really amazing match today"

"Yes. I think the same."

"From the director it was understood that today you actually weren't supposed to play, you had the day off but you freed yourself anyway when you learned about the problem due to the missing player. The day off was for your anniversary?"

"Yes. I was supposed to celebrate with my wife actually."

"And you're playing here? Wife in the background like most players? It wouldn't actually be new-"

"Please don't label me as someone who doesn't care about my wife. If I didn't care about her, I wouldn't have asked her to marry me, right?"

"I'm not saying that's, just that-"

"I love my wife. Today is our anniversary and if I scored 2 goals the team should thank her, since they were dedicated to her. It's just the first part of my gift"

"It's just that-"

"I have to go. You're taking away time I could spend with her."

And so, walking away from the reporter, Sae enters the corridor and disappears. You remain still for a few seconds, turning only when the reporter talks about something else. Sae is not one to show his love, not that he is ashamed, but it is not in his reserved nature to do so; and now, in front of millions of people, he has so freely admitted everything he feels?

Was that your husband? It really was your Sae?

You run to the kitchen, grabbing your phone and entering his chat, where you find a message you hadn't read, sent shortly after you argued

— hubby <3 🐙❤️

Don't take this the wrong way. I'm not doing this because I don't care about our day

- Did you actually say those things on TV? Do you have a fever?

You finally answered. No fever, sorry to disappoint you. I just wanted to do it

- It was unexpected

That I dedicated goals to you or that I talked about you so openly?

- Both

I'm coming home. Sorry for earlier, but I want to tell you to your face. There are more gifts I still have to give you, it is our anniversary after all, right?

If he had all these gifts he talked about, maybe you could give him yours that you've been mulling over since last night. Maybe it was time to show him that pregnancy test that's been in your drawer for hours

TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix