#and like you even see it happen before the twist

[edenesth]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[omkookie]

{ SIN LV.2 } Feeding the lust mark when it doesn't need to be fed is a bonus! Always satisfy your inner femdom by kissing, spanking, and fucking your favorite demons! Satan is a passionate one who'll always let you take control of him, even if he has to beg ‹3

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ��𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Smut, femdom, PIV, multiple orgasms + a ruined one, oral/cunnilingus, cum eating, handjob, spanking, biting/marking, Satan is passionate and just lets his missus be in charge.

After yesterday's encounter with Lucifer, your body has been left pleasantly sore. There's a small ache in the muscles of your thighs, leaving behind a pleasant burn in them. Today, The lust mark on you doesn't feel as intense or burning as it did yesterday. Your body doesn't have a need for devil's energy either, so you can breathe freely, your chest can rise and fall without the feeling of a heavy pressure on it.

Treading through Gehenna’s castle halls, you make it to Satan's room and bring your fist up to knock on his door- however, the door is yanked open, rattling from its hinges and barely holding on before you get the chance to knock on it.

“MC?! Where were you?” Satan asks furiously, gritting his teeth while he takes in your tidy and unhurt appearance. You looked perfectly fine, so at least you were safe while you were gone, however– What stood out to him was Lucifer's stench all-over you. That got on his nerves.

“You smell like Lucifer” he hisses out rather sharply, his eyebrows furrowing as his jaw clenches. “I was worried something might have happened to you”

“I'm sorry for worrying you Satan, I'll do my best to send you a text next time I'm out of Gehenna.”

“You better! Or I'm going to destroy half of paradise lost.” He retorts with a hot temper, looking as fired up as always.

You chuckle at his fiery attitude, feeling a small hint of butterflies pool in your belly. Satan was always so fired up when he was worried about you, alas he looked so sexy when he was mad. Whenever he looked like this it was like his masculine charm increased together with his attitude.

“I'll text you next time” you reassure him while your eyes blatantly glide over his outfit, checking his figure like a hawk eyeing its prey.

“...”

He doesn't say anything, simply observing the way you shamelessly checked him out after he threatened to destroy half of paradise lost.

You really had no shame.

“Oh. I see that look in your eyes” He grinned devilishly, reaching forward to pull you into his room. He kicks the door shut behind you, the poor oak wood almost cracking because of the impact. The door clung to its hinges for life, and you were honestly impressed by the craftsman who had made it.

Satan pushes you further into his room, fingers wasting no time in yanking your shirt off of your body as his lips latch onto your neck. His fiery kisses trail down your exposed skin, He sucks and nips at your collarbone, leaving a small trail of marks on your supple neck. Your own hands reached forward to tangle in his hair, fingers twisting in his smooth locks before pulling them back to expose his neck. Your lips latched onto his skin and marked him the same way he marked you, sucking and nipping harsly.

While you marked his neck and he marked yours, Satan made quick work of taking off his jumpsuit and gesturing for you to help pull his t-shirt off.

“You don't waste time.” He hums when you yank his shirt off. He kicks his shoes off next, before getting on the bed. He sat down on the bed, spreading his thighs a little for you to straddle him.

After he got you on top of him you let out a small mumble between kisses,“I never do”

True to your words, your impatient hand runs over his boxers to tease his growing erection, fingers rubbing the tip of his hardening cock. The tip was straining against the cotton fabric, precum slowly seeping into it to wet it.

“It's what makes you so attractive to all of the devils” Satan rasps out, his head falling back as he grips your hips tightly.

“I need to have you, MC” he blurts out as he slowly grinds his hips against you, trying to get more of your delicious touch.

Pushing him down harder and reaching up to grab his horns, you gripped them tightly before spitting on them to lubricate them. Satan shivered, a pleasant chill running down his spine as you held his sensitive horns. His breath caught in his throat as you rubbed his horns, pulling, twisting, and tightening your grip on them. His body burns up, a tingling feeling spreading from his horns down his crotch. His hips rock into you from below, cock shamelessly grinding against your clothed pussy while you continue to stimulate his horns. Your hand was covered in white liquid which dripped everywhere, dampening and making a mess out of his hair.

“Keep going.” He grunts. His eyes roll back as he fucks himself against you, pathetically grinding his cock onto your underwear. Satan rips your stockings, tearing the thin fabric apart. His fingers were finally able to push your underwear to the side and plunge his cock into your wet pussy

“Oh, shit” You cursed, Feeling his cock invade your wet entrance. He pushed the first two inches into you slowly before shoving the rest of himself inside, making your body jolt and lips slip out a moan.

“Slowly” you hiss at him, tightening your grip around his horns once more. His horns spew more liquid, oozing it down his hair and cheeks. His cock seems to ejaculate at the same time, the knot in Satan's abdomen coming undone with the final touch on his horns.

He finishes inside of you, filling up your empty pussy with cum as his eyes squint to refocus. He felt fucked mentally, and his hands shook as he reached up to cup your cheeks and kiss you.

“Shit…” he curses under his breath, almost feeling embarrassed he came so fast. Biting his lip, he looked up at you before telling you to continue, “Keep going, MC.”

A moment later, Satan's met with a hot slap on his chest which leaves his skin tingling. His muscles flexed at the impact, before your fingers grip one of his nipples and twist it.

“Krr ..Mm..” he jolts, squirming and twitching under you while you abuse his nipples.

“You've gotten… So devilish..” he lets out a lighthearted chuckle, huffing for air after you give his pecs one final squeeze.

“I didn't say you could cum, Satan”

“Is that so? Heh, You should've made that clear from the start then MC–”

he shuts up as you get off of him and tug his boxers off completely, pushing them down to his ankles. “You know you can't do it without my permission, Satan. I'm very disappointed” you retorted, gripping his wrists. Rubbing his wrists, you yanked him forward and laid him across your lap.

Satan turns his head to look over his shoulder, red eyes curiously peeking back at you. He felt your hands slide across his buttocks, rubbing and squeezing his tender skin.

“How many slaps do you think you deserve?” you asked him, curious to know what he would say.

“A hundred”

He grins confidently, making himself comfortable on your lap as you continue rubbing his butt. He felt so turned on with your hands on him, He was looking forward to getting himself spanked.

“A hundred? You think you deserve tha?t”

“I do”

“I don't think so.”

He presses himself against you, cock lightly grinding against the outer side of your thigh.

“You don't deserve a punishment which you'll like, Satan.”

He almost feels like begging you to spank him after you say that! He's so needy, turned on, and he really wants to get it. He wants your hands on his ass, leaving that pleasantly burning sting behind.

“What should I do? Satan.” You squeezed his hips, gently scraping your nails across his inner thighs.

“Hit me”

you clicked your tongue in irritation at his reply, “I think you'd like it too much” you squeezed the back of his thigh, pulling him even closer to you

“Stop beating around the bush. Are you trying to make me beg?” He asks as he looks back at you exasperated.

“Who makes the rules around here?” you retorted at his comment, crossing your arms as you stared down at him.

Silence.

He shut up pretty fast, his face scrunching into a displeased frown as he pouted like an angry kitten. “You do” Satan begrudgingly admits, feeling you rub his thigh again.

“That's right. You finished without permission, and You know you're not allowed to cum without asking me first.” Chiding him, you stop rubbing his leg before giving him an order, “Now, Kneel.”

Getting off of you, Satan gets down onto his knees and waits for your next order.

“You made a mess, so you clean it up.” Your sultry voice whispers as you place your legs over his shoulders, tugging him towards your dripping pussy by his horns.

“Mmmf!”

A low moan slips from his lips as his nose bumps against your clit. His tongue darts out to taste his own cum that's dripping out of you, tongue sliding gingerly across your labia and hole.

“Ohh…good boy, clean up your mess, Satan.”

He hums into your pussy, hands grabbing ahold of your legs to keep them over his shoulders. His tongue swept at your folds and he sucked on your clit like a starved man. “Mm, MC”

he mumbles something incoherent, voice muffled by your sweet core. He laps up your sweet juices with his cum, enjoying eating you out. Satan loves your pussy, and he loves eating it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“You're so pretty with your face buried between my legs”

Ooh, The praise. It made him melt. If he could purr right now he would, and if he had a tail it would be wagging. He slurps up your juices, cleaning up the mess he made in your pussy earlier.

“You're the pretty one” He whispers as he pulls back, his chin coated in your slick juices. He teasingly licks your labia one more time, tongue running along it before twisting around it, “This pussy's gorgeous too” letting out a small breath, he nips at your clit gently, teasing the little bud with his lips and teeth. “My favorite…” he mumbles

“You love your missus’ pussy?” You teasingly ask, a small glimmer shining in your eye.

“I love my missus' pussy…” he moans into you, face flushing into a deep red which reaches his ears. “MC….”

“Shh…keep doing that, you're making me feel so good.”

His rough hands knead your soft thighs’ skin, squeezing and massaging them purposely. Your legs trembled over his shoulders, and a hot flush spread across your body as his tongue swished across your sensitive clit.

“Satan look at you… you're so pretty.”

Bad- You reached down to grab his horns again and torture him. He sits up straighter, that hot, burning ache making itself present again. His horns were one of the most sensitive parts of his body, and the most delicate erogenous zone for you to grip.

“MC…”

“Shh.. I'm so close, you're doing an amazing job, Satan.”

His eyes roll back as you stroke his horn, “...I love it…” he mumbles, tongue lolling out to sloppily lap against your clit. He grips your thighs harder, leaving small red marks on your skin.

His face was absolutely beautiful, deep red eyes rolling back as you rub his sensitive horns. He gripped your legs as if he was holding on to a lifeline. He sucked on your clit and teased your gentle bud, setting every nerve of your body on fire.

“Satann..” you mumble, almost letting out a choked whine. “Faster… hurry up a little” You grind your hips up, bucking them against his face. You're grinding up against his hot tongue, almost fucking his face roughly as you pull him further onto your core.

“Mmm…MC…come on”

He speeds up, lapping at your clit as fast as he can. He pushes two fingers into you with ease, sliding them into your wet entrance and curling them against your g spot. He pumped his fingers, pulling them out and pushing them back in. He presses against all of the sweet spots in your body, suckling on your clit and teasing it.

“Oh…Satan! Yeah… keep doing that, keep doing that.” you grip his horns harder, thighs squeezing around his head. You're practically crushing his head as he finger-blasts you, your thighs clamping down on it as your orgasm shakes through your body. “Oh…fuck” he grumbles lightly, teeth sinking into your inner thigh to mark you. Your legs tremble around him, and Satan groans. His horns spurt liquid again as your own orgasm consumes you. Riding it out on his face, he lets you facefuck him until you finally let go of his horns.

“You look satisfied” he nips at your thigh again, sucking a mark onto your skin. “That doesn't mean I forgot you're supposed to be punished”

“Aww… but you'll let it slide this once, right?” He asks

“Punishments don't slide Satan, Come here and bend over my lap again.”

“Oh?” he gets up on shaky legs, wobbling with the first step he takes towards you before bending over your lap.

SLAP!

Your hand made harsh contact with his ass.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

You continued to hit his reddened skin, alternating between which half of his fleshy buttocks you hit. “MC… ohhhh~” he moans your name, gasping as you harshly beat his ass.

SLAP! SLAP!

he rutted against you, cock twitching with need as his blood rushed down.

Satan held himself up, reaching down with one band to stroke his erection. He stroked the sensitive tip of his cock, squeezing it in a tight grip before wrapping a fist around his whole shaft.

“MC…can I cum? Pretty please” he asks sweetly

SLAP!

his hips jerked forward, body shuddering at the contact of your hand. “Please” he pleads, begging you by calling out your name needily, “MC, Please.” he gasps sharply, feeling your hand soothingly rub the aching and reddened skin of his ass.

“MC, Please”

“Please….”

“You want to cum so bad?” You inquired, rubbing his ass one more time before delivering another smack against his red and irritated butt.

“Yes…Please”

With your hand reaching down, you push his hand away to jerk off his cock. You stroke him, tugging and pulling on the tip and base of his shaft. You work his release, building up the tension in his body which surrounds his ejaculation.

“Oh! Fuck– I'm gonna cum” he rasps out, hips thrusting into your hand as his cock spews out thick ropes of cum-

Your hand suddenly lets go of his cock, not giving it enough stimulation to get him through his ejaculation.

Satan grinds his teeth in frustration, feeling his ejaculation get ruined and cock twitch in disappointment, barely spurting out any cum. He groans, twisting his head to look back at you with a grumble, “You're mean.” A small frown etched onto his face. “This is a punishment, love” you stroke him under his chin, teasingly tapping your manicured nails down his neck.

“That was disappointing-... Hehe… you're real devilish”

He gives you a once-over, admiring your beautiful body until his eyes glue to the mark that shone on your abdomen- Suddenly his whole demeanor switches and he gets salty, “What's that?!” He asks, gritting his teeth

“What's what?” You ask back in confusion

“I'm talking about the damn mark on your stomach-”

“Oh… don't worry about it.." you tried brushing it off

“Was it Asmodeus?- Damn!…that bastard!!... The moment he returns from earth I'll smash his face against the ground”

ᡣ𐭩 ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ᡣ𐭩

PREVIOUS ← MAIN MENU → NEXT

ᡣ𐭩 ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ᡣ𐭩

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 10

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst, stupidity, annoyingness lol

A/N: This is the shortest chapter i have lol i also lowkey might add flashbacks into each chapter to add more depth and show more of the before.

The door slams behind you, leaving the apartment in silence, and for a moment, Bucky just stands there, his fists clenched, heart pounding as he processes what just happened. His chest is tight, and he feels the rage and regret building up until it erupts.

With a frustrated yell, he grabs the nearest lamp and hurls it across the room. The shattering glass echoes, cutting through the silence like a knife. Pieces scatter across the floor, a reflection of the chaos inside him.

“Goddammit!” he shouts, his voice cracking as he rakes his hands through his hair, pacing in circles like a caged animal. His breaths come fast and shallow, his mind racing through the night, every word exchanged like a dagger twisting deeper into his chest.

For a few seconds, he just stands there, staring at the broken lamp, his hands trembling. But the stillness is unbearable. He bolts for the door, flinging it open and stepping out into the hallway, shouting your name, his voice raw and desperate. He runs outside looking up and down the sidewalk “ Come on, don’t do this—please!”

But his voice is swallowed by the noise of a New York City Saturday night—distant laughter, honking horns, the steady hum of life moving on without him. He looks up and down the street, hoping, praying for even a glimpse of you, but you’re gone.

His pulse quickens, panic clawing its way into his chest. He rushes back inside, snatching his phone off the coffee table. His fingers fumble over the screen as he types out a frantic message.

Where are you? Please come back.

He hits send, but the empty silence that follows feels like a punch to the gut. He types again, his hands shaking as his heart pounds against his ribs.

I’m sorry. Just tell me you’re okay.

The seconds stretch into eternity as he stares at the screen, waiting for something—anything. When nothing comes, he dials your number, his thumb trembling as he presses the call button. He presses the phone to his ear, the ringing tone like a ticking clock in his mind.

Then he hears it: a faint buzzing, too close. His stomach drops as he turns toward the ceramic bowl by the door—the one he’d made for you last year on your birthday. A bowl meant for keys, little mementos… or your phone. He steps toward it slowly, as if delaying the inevitable, and peers inside. His chest tightens when he sees your phone lying there, abandoned.

“Dammit,” he whispers, his voice cracking. His hand hovers over it for a moment before he picks it up, his knuckles white around the edges. You’d left it behind. The weight of it all—the fight, his words, the reality of you walking out like that—hits him like a freight train.

He sinks down onto the floor, clutching your phone in his lap, his head falling into his hands. His breaths come in uneven gasps, and for the first time in years, tears spill freely down his face. He sees it all replaying in his mind: the way your face crumpled as you turned away, the sound of the door slamming behind you, the silence that followed.

Go. I don’t want you here.

The words ring in his ears, echoing with all the venom and finality he hadn’t meant but couldn’t take back. They were born out of fear and frustration, but now they feel like the truth—like he’s pushed you away for good.

After a moment, he wipes at his face, sniffs, and forces himself to his feet. This isn’t over. It can’t be.

He throws on his coat and rushes out the door, his mind racing as he retraces all the places you might have gone. First, the bar down the street—the one you’ve spent countless nights in, laughing over drinks, sharing secrets you wouldn’t tell anyone else. But it’s packed, unfamiliar faces filling the space where you should be.

Next, the café where you always get your Sunday morning coffee. The lights are dimmed, chairs stacked on tables. Closed. His heart sinks, but he presses on.

The bookstore is next. The one with late hours, where you could spend hours flipping through old paperbacks and laughing at obscure poetry collections. But it’s empty too, the familiar warmth of the shop now a cold reminder of how lost you are.

Finally, he heads to the park. The park where you’d spent so many nights sitting on the old wooden benches, talking under the stars. It’s quiet here, the hum of the city fading into the background. He sits down on one of those benches, his head falling into his hands as his shoulders shake.

He’s failed you. He’s failed himself. The weight of everything he’s been holding back—the fear, the love, the guilt—crashes down all at once. Silent tears stream down his face as he tilts his head up toward the sky, the stars blurring through his tears.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He scrambles for it, hope surging in his chest, but when he sees the name, his heart twists painfully.

Steve.

His thumb hovers over the screen before he opens the message.

She’s here. She walked from the apartment without her phone or coat. You let her walk out like that? What the hell were you thinking?

Bucky’s throat tightens, and his fingers curl around the phone. His vision blurs as he reads the words over and over, Steve’s anger matching his own self-loathing. He types out a response, but his fingers falter, and he deletes it. What could he say? There was no excuse for what he’d done.

Instead, he slips the phone back into his pocket and leans forward, burying his face in his hands. The ache in his chest deepens, and for the first time, he lets himself feel the full weight of what he’s lost.

He stares up at the sky again, the stars offering no comfort, only the cold realization that he might have pushed you away for good.

And he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get you back. But he never really had you in the first place.

As you step out of the shower, the quiet hum of voices drifts down the hall. Curiosity—and a bit of anxiety—tugs at you as you wrap yourself in a towel and press your ear to the bathroom door. Relief washes over you when you recognize Natasha and Wanda’s voices mixed with Sam and Steve’s, and you close your eyes, exhaling slowly. They’re here; you’re not alone.

Gathering yourself, you open the door and step into the living room, where Natasha is pacing, visibly agitated, while Wanda sits on the couch, her face full of concern. Sam and Steve stand nearby, leaning against the counter, both looking serious. When they see you, the conversation pauses, and Natasha stops mid-rant.

“Hey, there you are,” Wanda says softly, standing up to meet you. “Are you feeling any better?”

You offer a small smile. “Yeah, thanks. Just… processing, I guess.”

Wanda nods, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “We’re here for you. Whatever you need.”

Natasha, however, looks ready to explode. She crosses her arms, her eyes flashing with anger. “It is not okay,” she says firmly. “You don’t just let your so-called best friend walk out alone at night, without so much as a phone or coat.”

You shrug, avoiding everyone’s eyes as you tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe… maybe we were never really friends. Maybe it was just the convenience of it all, you know?”

Wanda’s eyes widen slightly as she squeezes your shoulder, her voice soft. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t answer because you know thats just bullshit, but thinking that hurts less, you sigh running a hand through your wet hair, glancing down as the hurt lingers in your chest. The silence stretches for a moment before Natasha breaks it, her tone gentler now.

“So… how was your date with Dean?” she asks, a note of curiosity softening her expression.

A sad smile tugs at your lips. “It was… everything a girl could dream of. He was respectful, charming… and he actually listened to me.” You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “It was perfect.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, looking hopeful. “So… are you going to go on another one with him?”

You hesitate, glancing in Steve’s direction for a brief second before looking back at Natasha. “Yeah… I think so.”

Sam shifts, clearing his throat, a hesitant look on his face. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, but… you and Bucky still live together. What’s the plan?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, and for a moment, the weight of it all settles heavily. You swallow, looking down, and shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t just… keep going back to the way things were. But I don’t know what comes next either. He’s Bucky yknow?”

Steve watches you, his face soft and understanding, and he offers a reassuring nod. You take a deep breath and settle onto the couch, feeling the weight of everyone’s concerned gazes. After a pause, you look around, your voice soft but firm. “Look, you guys can’t just be here for me. You’ve gotta be there for Bucky, too.”

Natasha scoffs, crossing her arms and shooting you a look. “As if! He’s the one who let you walk out in the middle of the night!....In New York!!! You’re too good of a friend if you’re even thinking about him right now.”

You give her a sad smile, shrugging slightly. “It’s… not about that, even if it was i wouldn’t of let him stop me, i made the decision to leave, i-i could have went to my room and --”

Natasha throws her arms up “Really? Are you kidding me? I love you babe but you’ve been defending him your whole life, he needs to take fault!”

You shake your head, your voice slight rasing “Its not that simple Nat and you know it” You hear her grumble before continuing “He’s going through something too. We’re all friends for a reason, right? We don’t get to just pick sides.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, groaning. “You’re way too good of a friend. Honestly, you’re killing me here.”

You manage a weak chuckle, but before you can respond, you hear Sam moving toward the door. He grabs his keys and his phone, his expression resolute.

Steve raises an eyebrow, looking over at him. “Where are you going?”

Sam glances back, determination in his gaze. “You heard the woman,” he says, nodding toward you. “I’m gonna go be a friend to one of my best friends.”

A surge of gratitude rises in you, and you give him a small, sincere smile. “Thank you, Sammy.”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looks at you, and his voice holds a quiet warmth. “What are friends for?”

1 month ago

The air was crisp, filled with the mingling scents of freshly baked bread, blooming flowers, and sizzling street food. The bustling energy of the farmer’s market buzzed around you as you strolled through the vibrant stalls. Your arm was linked with Bucky’s, the two of you laughing as you navigated through the crowd, the warm Sunday morning sun casting a golden glow over everything.

Natasha and Wanda were a few stalls back, rifling through retro furniture pieces and vinyl records for their new apartment. Sam was predictably at a food truck, enthusiastically sampling every free bite they offered.

“You know where we’re headed,” you said with a grin, gently tugging Bucky toward the familiar book stall at the far end of the market.

He chuckled, squeezing your arm lightly. “Obviously. Can’t leave without finding something we don’t have space for on our shelves.”

You both were English majors, and literature had always been your shared sanctuary. The book stall was a small haven of dog-eared novels, rare editions, and hidden gems that called to you like an old friend.

But as you approached, Bucky suddenly stopped in his tracks. His grip on your arm loosened, and his head turned sharply, his expression shifting. “Kate?” he said, more to himself than to you.

Before you could even process it, his arm slipped out of yours, and he was weaving through the crowd, heading toward a figure you hadn’t noticed until now. A brunette. He didn’t say another word, leaving you standing there, your heart sinking as his back disappeared into the sea of people.

You blinked, dumbfounded. “Okay… what just happened?”

“Hey,” a familiar voice said behind you. You turned to see Steve approaching, a paper bag of pastries in hand. His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced around. “Where’d Bucky go?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice light. “He saw someone he knew. An old friend, I guess.”

Steve nodded slowly, his concern softening into curiosity. “Did you two make it to the books yet?”

You forced a small smile. “No, not yet. We were about to.”

Steve tilted his head, offering his arm with a warm smile. “Well, do you want to look somewhere else while we wait for him to come back?”

Your heart ached a little, but his kindness made it easier. “Sure,” you said, linking your arm with his. Steve always had a way of making things feel okay, even when they weren’t.

He led you toward the next section of the market, where stalls displayed vintage jewellery, scarves, and other unique trinkets. As you browsed, your eyes caught on something that made you gasp softly—a locket, its delicate gold surface glinting in the sunlight. It looked almost identical to the one you’d lost at some stupid college party that led to a panic attack, it had been so precious to you because it was a family heirloom passed down multiple generations that you of all people lost. It hit you hard.

You picked it up carefully, running your thumb over its intricate design. It was beautiful, and for a moment, you felt that familiar pang of nostalgia, of longing. But when you flipped it over, searching for a price tag, you found none. You sighed quietly, already knowing what that meant. You’d only set aside money for books today—not for a locket, no matter how much it tugged at your heart.

Reluctantly, you set it back down, giving it one last wistful glance before turning back to Steve. He’d been watching you, his expression soft, but before he could say anything, Bucky reappeared, his usual grin plastered on his face.

“Sorry about that,” Bucky said, running a hand through his hair. “I saw someone from college.”

You raised an eyebrow, forcing your smile to stay in place. “Oh?”

“Yeah, remember that girl I had the project with in our last year? Kate. That was her,” he said, nodding toward where she’d vanished into the crowd. “Haven’t seen her since graduation. Got her number, though!”

“Cool,” you said, your voice light but not quite steady. Your chest ached, but you buried it quickly. Even the farmer’s market wasn’t safe from heartbreak, it seemed.

Bucky held out his arm again, his smile as warm as ever. “Shall we?”

You nodded, linking your arm with his once more. “Sure,” you said, glancing over at Steve. “You coming with?”

Steve shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “No, I’m gonna check out one more stand. Meet you guys at the benches for lunch?”

“Sounds good,” Bucky said, steering you back into the crowd. “Don’t take too long, Rogers. Sam’s probably already ordered for everyone.”

Steve waved you off, waiting until you and Bucky were out of sight. Then, he turned back to the vendor, his gaze settling on the locket you’d been admiring.

“I’ll take that locket, please,” Steve said quietly, pulling out his wallet.

[bunnyunderthebed]

the camping trip was the first time for a lot of things. in all honesty i should've seen it coming, even that early on, but i've always been a little slow on the uptake.

i know now, with the benefit of hindsight, that you spilling wine on my jeans was a set up. clearly no amount of caution on my part was going to slow you down for long; you were going to get what you wanted one way or another. apologies abound, followed by enthusiastic blotting with napkins and paper towels—how convenient for you that the spill was all over my groin—to little effect. the thoroughly ruined wranglers were set to dry alongside a promise for replacements, and you slyly suggested that i simply sleep in my boxers. it was getting to be that time anyway, the fire was low and i was tired, so i didn't think anything of it.

i was expecting a comfy night of snuggling and stargazing—that's what the suspension tent had been bought for, of course—but you had different plans. no time was wasted by your hands, feeling me up just as soon as you changed the spotify playlist. my neck had been a bit of a focus for you in those days, and you had gotten plenty of milage out of it thus far. with how sensitive it is, it was the fastest route you had to the noises you really liked. with your arm wrapped around from behind your fingers scouted my jaw, tracing out all the little spots that made me shiver, and you got to work putting hickeys on every one of them.

i'll admit i was too distracted by the attention to notice your free hand trailing downwards slowly, skillfully avoiding all the sensitive spots that might give you away as it crossed my torso. once you arrived on target, though, there was no peeling you away. a single finger, dragged along the contour of my bulge, would be my only notification. if the long, deep gasp hadn't been enough of a green light for you, the throbbing certainly was. a gentle brushing of my thighs was all you needed to splay me out, and you cooed a soft praise in my ear for melting in your hands so effortlessly.

"Good boy, bunny," you said for the first time. i felt you play and tease at the waistband and considered begging. maybe if i had, you'd've obliged me, but i couldn't think straight with you nibbling on my ear. instead you gently massaged me through my boxers, groping lovingly while you laid little kisses on my jaw, and all i could manage was a whine. you growled with excitement, turning the little kisses into little bites and my gasps into moans. you were hammering buttons now, not just pressing them. the growing wet spot was the invitation you needed to slip your hand in. i froze as you gripped me and you huffed with feral content. i twitched and throbbed in your hand, silently aching for you to follow through. i was too lost in it all to realize i needed to warn you before you started.

a pained yelp tore out of my mouth and you immediately let go. my hips recoiled and i instinctively curled up and twisted away from you. i hissed as the hurt radiated, and you pulled me into an embrace to quickly soothe me and figure out what had happened. i mumbled to you between breaths.

it... uh... it doesn't... you can't pull on it like... like that... i'm sorry... i know it's... weird...

you seemed to pause for a moment.

"Can I... see?"

i nodded slowly and turned my body back to you. lifting your head to see what you were doing, you gingerly pulled me out of my boxers. i was too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

you... uh... you don't have to... if it's a problem... i understand if it's not what you're used to...

turning my head by the chin, you met my gaze warmly.

"It's beautiful. You're beautiful."

pretty boys with pretty cocks that just beg to be caged, pumped mercilessly, spat and stepped on <3

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲

(human!Alastor x f!reader drabble)

Masterlist

Some poetic and reminiscing thoughts from (human) Alastor about his darling-doe. This is unlike anything I've written before. Honestly, I’m not even sure what this is. I wrote it a while ago when I was severely sleep-deprived.

I know he's no longer human in this, but he's telling us about a time when he still was. That's why I tagged it as human!Alastor.

CW: Possessive thoughts, mention of murder and manipulation

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I remember the day I first saw you so clearly as if it didn’t happen almost a hundred years ago – back then, when we were still human, nothing but mere people made of flesh and bone, born to live, and living to die. Oh, what a beautiful sight you were, so beautiful – the most beautiful creature of them all. Not only your face resembled the image of a goddess, but your soul shone so bright it made even the darkest of times turn day. You were a true angel sent from heaven, a kind soul and oh so fragile. Glancing into those beautiful doe eyes of yours made me want to ruin you. To take you with me, poison your every being and make you mine – and mine only.

It feels as if it was yesterday that you introduced yourself to me. That radiant smile on your lips, those long lashes framing those shining eyes like they’re the most valuable painting in this world, and I've lost myself in you. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before. Things, I didn’t even consider I was able to feel – because I never felt them before. I've heard those tales. Even read those tales about unconditional love. About how the heartbeat increases whenever you’re close to the one you desire. About how much you crave their touch, their voice, their love – completely and utterly devoted to the one person in this world. One out of billions of people. But I never dared to think I would ever feel the same. Did I feel the same? I was obsessed with you; wanted to possess you in every way possible. And when those full lips of yours parted and your angelic voice entered my ears for the first time, you already had it all. And I knew I wanted you to be mine – and mine only.

Were you fascinated by me? Oh, you were. I saw it on your face. In the tiniest details that betrayed your overly polite expression that you so strongly tried to keep professional. I saw that you were intrigued the very moment you laid your eyes on me. It was like fate had sent you to me. Like my mother in heaven twisted all the odds in my favor, just so I could meet you. Oh, the way you smiled at me. The way you looked at me. How your voice slightly raised when you spoke directly to me. It made my heart flutter and it filled me with an emotion I never thought to ever be able to feel my whole life. And I wanted you to be mine – and mine only.

We met again, after that night. More often than appropriate. In parks, at the bank of the Mississippi, at professional events and at a restaurant I so carefully chose. One that I knew would only serve the best of New Orleans’ cuisine. To make you acquainted with my home and my culture. To prepare you to be on my side. I saw you once, I saw you twice. I saw you an umpteenth times. And yet I was waiting for the perfect moment to ruin you – to make you mine – and mine only.

Were you as corrupted as I? Were you – beside your angel-like nature – capable to make the change, to become one like me, and sacrifice your very being to the darkness of twisted human nature? The desire to kill, the desire to hunt with you grew with every passing day. Day to day I've been waiting for the moment. For the perfect opportunity to make you see my true nature. To make you see my grim twisted morality, to make you see my darkest of secrets, to make you accept it with a smile, to make you succumb to your own darkness, to make you fall, to make you mine – and mine only.

The night we first shared a kiss felt like a dream. An oh so beautiful, yet so tragic dream – because I knew that once your lips touched mine, everything between us would change forever. I remember how you stood before me, much like the day we met, though that angelic smile of yours was replaced by a warmth that exceeded every ounce of adoration you gifted to me before. And then you leaned in, and we kissed. That feeling of your soft lips against mine wasn’t anything like I imagined before. It was so much more, an overwhelming explosion of fireworks. Oh, the hunger that roared on my inside, the need to pull you closer and take everything of you – in this very moment – was unbearable. But I waited. Because at this moment I already knew you were mine – and mine only.

Oh, you were my darling.

My darling-doe.

My angel.

My everything.

And now, I will make you fall.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐲

cw : MDNI - S2 Armand, journalist male reader, top male reader, switch Armand, sub Daniel, dirty thoughts, mentions of sexual interactions, nsfw, Louis is definitely third wheeling, sexual tension, fake rashid reveal, mind fucking, teasing, this is my old man yaoi, somnophila, Armand gets the old man pass, they eye fucked eachother so much, i needed a taste of these two sorry, when no one can do the work, you gotta do it yourself, power play, stalking, Armand is a creepy little cat, Daniels the confused German shepherd, my drabbles become so thought out why, consume at your own risk, not proof read.

You knew it.

You fucking knew it the whole damn time.

At first it was just a guess, just a joking remark made as you worked with Molloy with Louis interview. You didn't believe him when he spoke of vampires, but seeing truly is believing, and Rashid was the oddest guy you'd met. That sweet smile, those longing looks towards Louis, the way he almost seemed to be acting—

Oh but you found that out really fucking fast.

Spoiler alert, you can see the plot twist from a mile away.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Jesus Christ, it was about damn time! How obvious do you have to be before someone finally outed you as a vampire?"

Daniel turned to you in a somewhat shocked fashion, though he was mostly squinting towards you for some sort of half assed explanation you were going to give him, but Louis put his expression into words. "You...You knew?"

"Yeah, but to be honest, he wasn't exactly doing the best job at hiding it. I mean, even if he was trying to, it was a little too on the nose at the beginning. Also, not saying Rashid is a bad name, but you definitely don't look like a Rashid." You then happened to gesture to Armand who was now standing side by side with Louis. You knew you'd promised Molloy that you would tone it down, that you would stay tamer than normal for the sake of getting out of Dubai in one piece after everything was said and done, but now there were two vampires rather than the one. "Not to mention how obvious you are."

"Pray tell, how obvious was I?" Armand asked. So far he'd spectated and predicted you were just as childish as Daniel when he was younger. With eccentric thoughts and an active imagination. That you were simply in over your head.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Well, for starters...it never seemed like you were similar to the other servants? I don't think I dare even saw you wear a mask before, whether that be to simply hide faces or to prevent anything from spreading, I found that odd." You chimed. "Not only that but we've seen Louis drink from you, and yet someone as...lanky, someone who looked like a stick ready to break — no offense — but you walked away like it was nothing, while a Russian biscuit the size of a bulk barely stood for two seconds before falling out.."

Only then did you gesture to the other room compared to the one you were currently in. "Not to mention, when we caught you praying the other day, you prayed in the darkest side of the room. Even if you did walk past the light, it was briefly or almost unseeable. And God, from the way every time I turned to you and watched you practically eye-fucking Molloy, I wouldn't have been shocked to know that you'd met him before."

Armand's expression was unreadable, almost repressing his feelings. Especially after the last observation you'd made. He stood next to Louis who squinted in a questionable fashion while looking at you, and Daniel? He didn't expect you to suddenly come out like that, and so boldly, though that was simply your personality.

"Now, if you three don't mind, I think I'll go to bed early. After this whole fucking soap opera of a reveal, I have to probably prepare myself to take in whenever you came into Louis life and what the hell happened then." You dismissed yourself, not back towards Daniel as you made your way out. That stare Armand had given you that entire time was unnerving, but there was something behind it.

You then called out as you proceeded to make your way to your room. "And I hope that there's an actual Rashid! Or I will be very disappointed!"

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

God when was the last time you and Daniel had a good fuck.

Before the trip to Dubai, the two of you had different lives, and as much as you loved smothering the older man, you had a job as well. It was unfortunate that you two couldn't have your fun till after the trip was over, but at least Daniel noticed how irritable you'd started to get. After all, you'd been stressed before the trip and didn't expect things to take this long.

You groaned out as your hips slowly rocked into the others, his warm body against your own and lips kissing feverishly against his skin. You knew that he was trying his best to sleep, but you couldn't help yourself.

Not as if he minded, he's the one who agreed the two of you could atleast sleep like this.

"Fuck Danny, baby..." You rutted your hips up accidentally, causing him to groan out and nudge you as red took over his face, cheeks, even spreading to his ears.

"Calm down, I have to sleep for later so we can continue the interview.." He could feel your arms practically caging him, holding against the plushness against part of his stomach. Daniel could barely think with how tired he was, and you? You were full of energy at the moment, sleepy, but still energized.

"But you're so tight Daniel...so fucking...oh—" You slowly grinded yourself against him once again before finally giving in as he wrapped a hand back to run though your hair. "Needed this, bad. Felt like I was having withdrawals."

"From sex?"

"From you," you admitted. "And this tight ass..."

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The next afternoon, you and Daniel went to the small cafe to fill up before the interview, though he'd been chewing you out about your past behavior. How he knew you were always a stickler for believing in superstition, but to understand that these vampires were nothing to fuck around with.

You could have refuted that with the amount of evidence you had that those fanged people were hornier than a dog humping a pillow.

You joked about it, as if it was your second nature, but Molloy seemed more stressed out than normal.

"You're gonna get yourself killed in there, you know what they are, why are you pushing things so far?" He sounded annoyed at that point, watching as you rolled your eyes and tried to dismiss his emotions towards the situation.

"Jesus Molloy, you act like the world is gonna end."

"Maybe not, but you have no idea who these guys are. You don't understand how dangerous they can be. How dangerous they are." He urged on.

You laughed and continued eating the raw fish that was on your plate. "Sure," you drew out.

It was then that he stared at you. Molloy stared at you with that look, the look you knew all too well. He continued staring you down before you sighed and gave in. "Fine! Damn it, I'll be good! I'll tone it down! I'll...I'll play this little game they're trying to get at. But I'm only doing it because you asked."

"Look, I just want us to get out of this in one piece." He urged on, now poking at his food, appetite diminished from the idea alone. "I dragged you into this mess, if you want to leave, you can."

"Damn it Daniel, you know you didn't drag me into this, I wanted to come. Turns out the vampire bullshit was real after all, but you're dumb as a box of rocks if you think I'm just gonna leave you here. I'm going nowhere." You let out a chuff of a chuckle before nudging Molloy, giving him a reassuring smirk. "And I know that Daniel Molloy sure as shit won't let anyone outsmart him like this."

"Alright cocky brat, I hear you. Just be careful. Armand looked like he's two seconds away from ripping your head off last time."

"Oh, Armand would have already if he had the balls to do so. If anything, I think the real threat in the room is you know who..." Finishing the rest of your dish after popping the last piece in your mouth, you now gave Daniel the knowing look.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Fuck, Armand—no wonder Louis loves to fuck you in his free time." You panted, watching as the vampire squirmed below you. You held his waist with a bruising strength that would normally feel uncomfortable for any human. But you knew that the vampire was durable. Heating his moan and mewl as your hips slapped against his ass, back arching up into you like a needy cat in heat. You didn't let up either, slamming into his body with brute force behind every thrust.

It was only then that you heard the mix of Armand and Daniels voice, gray haired individual cursing out as he gripped tightly onto the pillow behind his head. His glasses were gone and his face was flushed red as your thrust urged Armand to thrust into him. The vampire turned his head, as if trying to steal a kiss from you, pouting even. But you ignored him, leaning over to press your lips again Daniel's as his eyes fluttered closed, lashes dotted with tears and a muffled cry leaving him as Armand rammed his hips, almost in a jealous fashion.

Your fingers then found themselves threaded in the vampire's hair, only to yank his head back while a cry escaped his drool soaked lips. "You listen to me and you listen to me good. You think..you're all hot shit for a vampire, but I really know what you really are — Armand," you hissed out against the shell of his ear, dipping your head down before biting directly against the side of his neck. Your canines dug down into his tender flesh — not enough force to pierce — but enough to bite down onto the muscle below, knowing the skin would blemish and bloom due to your brutish actions.

The feeling alone made him cry out, hips stuttering between both you and Daniel. It was only then that you heard Molloy let out a gutteral noise in retaliation.

"You're my bitch in heat, understand?"

As Louis continued his interview, retelling whatever he could recall while letting Daniel read Claudia's entries, you kept your mouth shut and kept your comments to a minimum — as promised. But your thoughts, they ran rampant as you keep eye contact with Armand, watching as his eyes pierced into your own soul while peering into your mind. You could see a shift in his face features, his shoulders tending up as your expression stayed unchanging like a statue.

"Sorry to cut you off, I'm gonna step to the bathroom if that's alright. Lunch doesn't feel like it's sitting well," you addressed those in the room as you moved your notebook out of your lap and onto the table. "You good being alone in here for a sec Danny boy?"

"I'll be fine — and don't call me that, Jesus..." He muttered, shaking his head and overall dismissing you as he saw the shit eating grin on your face.

"Just askin' is all. Last time I left, I came back to you slapping Louis. Still never got an explanation for that one..."

"I assure you, nothing will happen to Daniel while you're away," Louis assured, giving you a genuine look to try and persuade you.

"Whatever you say," you stated, not giving the other stoic vampire the time of day after. Not a glance back or a thought for him to breach. Instead you left and got into the bathroom before starting the sink and splashing water on your face.

Even as you tried your best to hide it or ignore it, you could feel you growing erection making into a tent against your jeans, especially at your own thoughts. You almost dazed out back there and didn't even notice, but you knew that you'd finally hit the mark with Armand. With the way he was staring you down, you wouldn't have been surprised if he confronted you about such things.

It wasn't until you looked up in the mirror that you saw those predatory eyes stalking you again. By the time you whipped around, you were almost slammed into the sink, grinning as Armand grabbed against your throat. There was no real strength behind it, just a placement.

"Pervert, snooping through my thoughts even though I'm pretty sure Louis said that doing such a thing was off limits."

"He did not say such a thing," he quickly addressed, sneering at the grin that stayed in your face. "Who are you to have such thoughts about myself."

"You didn't say much about it. But to mention you seemed like you were enjoying it yourself pretty boy..." Your hand felt against his own groin, your grin only widening at the erection he seemed to pull as well. Watching as he stiffened up again made your arousal flare and his eyes seemed to soften. It almost looked as if he was trying to stop a noise from coming out with how fast his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I know one thing, Armand. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something from me." Peeling his hand from your throat, you grabbed his face and pulled his closer. He did nothing to retaliate, almost melting at the semi rough gesture. "If you wanna be of any help while we still have time...I think you could put that mouth to good use."

To have Armand on his hands and knees? It was as if Christmas came early. But God, he looked absolutely divine as he slid down between your legs. You could only hope that Louis wouldn't mind sharing his immortal partner, Armand.

The vampire Armand?

More like Armand, your personal cockslut.

You could only wonder how fast he could be before one of the others came to look for the both of you.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

[nyc-pizza-rat]

saw @bloodydeanwinchester's tags on this post so

*TW: SUICIDE IDEATION TYPICALLY DISCUSSED IN RELATION TO THIS EPISODE PLS TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES*

dean's always hated being stabbed. god, he'd have taken a bullet to his head over this any day. what's one last thing that doesn't go his way, he thinks.

it's uncomfortable, is the thing. the hurt, he'll take it. it's nothing he doesn't deserve, nothing he hasn't had before. but the feeling of metal slicing your innards, it's a bitch of a thing. you can never get used to it.

Atleast, he thinks, Sam's here. Atleast, he's able to say goodbye. Atleast he's not alone.

His nerves are all alight, pain painting him bright from the inside, but dean can feel the finality of this burst. it's all too fast and too slow, all at once. dean thinks about being four and the sharp sunlight waking him in his room, his sheets with hot wheels on them. he thinks about baby's headlights shining through thin motel curtains. thinks about....about angels and gods and all that blue light behind his own eyes. he thinks if this is how.. how cas felt, when dean had been stupid and cowardly , when he'd let Lucifer get to him, that night in Washington. he wonders if his soul feels like this too, all sharp angels and live current. he wonders what cas ever saw in him, why he ever tried to save him, even in hell. wishes he could see him, one last time. that wouldn't have been all that terrible.

Still, he thinks. Sam's here. Sam's here. Sam's okay.

he jolts into himself, and realizes that he's been talking, that he's been saying something to sam. he doesn't even know. dean is unraveling. he can feel his body emptying, the slickness of blood at his back.

he grabs at his brother, fists a hand in his chest. Sam's face is twisted in sorrow. Fuck. I love you, little guy, he thinks. then, fuck, don't let me go. i don't want to go. shit's never happened the way he wanted it to, but this is something else. Atleast. well, atleast he's gonna end up in the empty. that's what Billie promised him, right? Atleast he'll be with cas.

Still, Still. he's only human, and he's drowning in his own blood, can smell it, can taste it, it's everywhere, it's —

"I need you to.... to tell me... that it's okay," he says, and his voice comes out trembling, panicked. terrified. God. "I need you to tell me that it's okay."

his brother turns away from him, and dean can't hear him over the ringing in his ears, but he knows the stubborn bastard, the way his shoulders lift. God. God. Cas.

"Look at me," he pleads. "I need... I need..." he can't breathe. god, he can't breathe. "Please, Sam. I need you to tell me that it's okay."

Sam's face swims to the front of his line of sight, all warped like it's on the other side of a fishbowl. dean clutches at his brother harder. tries to, anyway. he's so tired. he's so fucking tired.

his fingers slip.

Something warm, and sam holds him in place.

"Dean...," and in another world, dean would've made fun of the blubbering mess he's become. would've teased him for caring so much about his stupid older brother. "it's okay. It's okay. i— I got you."

it's crazy, dean thinks, that it helps. the tone of his brother's voice. his face, even warped and cracking open with grief. dean raised this kid, and it was a bitch of a job, and man, did he hate it at times, but look at sam now. he did good. he did so good. he did —

dean goes under like he's being put to sleep. almost easy, almost soft. Thanks, he thinks, the last coherent thought in his head. Thanks, kid.

~

He wakes up on a road. The sun shines down bright like it's the start of summer, and there's this pleasant warmth in the air. the world around him is golden, stretching into the horizon on flat land where it meets the brown mounds of the black hills. dean blinks up at the mountains, a strange chill crawling down his spine.

"You're here early," a familiar voice says, and dean turns to find himself standing in front of Bobby's porch. light's drenched this whole place, too, making the wood panelling look blond. Bobby's fucking smiling. Shit. Shit.

dean's starting to feel disoriented, almost.

"And what's 'here' supposed to be, exactly?"

Bobby frowns, his smile slipping. he looks at dean like he's a right fool. "Heaven, dean," he says. "where else'd you think you'd go?"

dean thought.... Fuck. there's a strange emptiness pushing at the inside of dean's skin. he feels like he's been put together upside down. Billie.... Billie....

Billie's in the empty, and fuck. maybe grudges don't get passed down to the new death. fuck. fuck.

Dean stumbles to the porch steps, crumples on them when he can't go further. Absently, he's aware of Bobby moving behind him, the creaking of his rocking chair, his footsteps on the wood.

he stares out at the grass, the outline of the mountains, the clear blue sky. it's beautiful. it's nothing. it's empty. fuck. fuck. what the hell is dean supposed to do now. without — what the hell is he supposed to do?!

Bobby's hand is warm on his shoulder. dean feels small, the way he leans into it, the way he kinda wants to cry.

"what's wrong, dean?" Bobby asks, and his voice is all wrong , like he's tried to scrape the gruffness out of it and badly. dean could laugh. but. fuck. fuck.

why the hell is he here? why is he here?!

he swallows. shit's never really gone his way in life, so why would it in death? he swallows again. says, "i don't know, Bobby."

Me, he thinks. I'm what's wrong.

"i don't know."

[strang3lov3]

Tear You Apart

Roman hatefucks you (2.1k words).

Tags - smut, rough/violent sex, mean!roman, and perhaps dark!roman too if you squint (I’m serious. Don’t underestimate him) lack of proper foreplay (intentional), unprotected piv, spanking, biting, choking, hitting, degradation, bruises, dacryphilia, hatefuck, masturbation, fingering, creampie, come play, fearplay, threats of violence, typical Roman sexism, Roman spits in your mouth, orgasm denial, Roman denies you of some basic physiological needs in maslow’s hierarchy, a singular atom of aftercare, one (1) Depeche Mode reference. Probably forgot some things but if you’re here then you know what you want, and I know what you want, and we both know you’re gonna read anyway.

A/N - received a message from god and i did what had to be done. @cum-a-calla said “k but imagine Roman talking about how much he hates you while being violently railed. swoon” so here’s this. Straight fucking, beginning to end. I love you @cum-a-calla I think you’re just the fucking best 😻🥰 and @beefrobeefcal do your eyes ever hurt from how much I abuse them? Thank you for lending them to me again and again 💜🥩🐛

Roman’s swaying left and right in his swivel chair, nursing a glass of whiskey when you open his bedroom door. “You’re late,” he says, slurring his words ever so slightly. His eyes are bloodshot, hair mussed, tie loosened and his white shirt unbuttoned. Roman takes his silver watch off and sets it down on the end table next to him. 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “I know.”

“You texted 10:30,” Roman reminds you. “And it’s midnight.” 

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” 

“Better fuckin’ not. C’mon, chop chop. You know what you’re here for.” 

You do know; the same thing you’re always here for. Roman downs the rest of his drink, then pours another, and this time offers it to you. You decline politely, a quiet and demure no, thank you with a gentle shake of your head as you take off your shirt. Roman shrugs, drinks that one too. He feels lightheaded. 

You shuck off your pants, and Roman takes care to help you with your bra, fingers tracing over the indents it’s left in your skin. “All of it,” he says, smacking your ass, right over that large, rashy bruise he left last time. It was a week ago, maybe. Is that correct? Is that the last time you did this? Roman can never keep track. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re just as hungry for Roman’s violence as he is to inflict it upon you. 

You shimmy the cotton underwear down your hips and your legs, now fully bare before Roman. Exposed. Roman sidles up behind you, his veiny hands on your waist. He urges you closer to the mirror and turns you around slowly, admiring the marks he made on you last time. Bite marks, lots of bites, and god, how he loves sinking his teeth into your skin. There’s bruises darkening your skin, though not all are visible. Some you feel instead of see. There’s the odd scratch, maybe the fault of his unclipped nails or perhaps the blunt metal edge of his watch he doesn’t always remember to take off. Roman watches you in the mirror, the eye contact intimidating. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

Roman presses his fingertips against a bruise on your hip, causing you to wince. It’s an odd shape, odd location too. “I like this one,” Roman says. “Pretty.” It’s a compliment, almost. Almost. 

It begins here. Roman separates your hands that are held together, nervously fidgeting with yourself. He takes your forearm and twists it behind your back, pushes it up, up, even higher yet. You can see in the mirror how he smiles, his eyes darkening when you start to wince in pain. “You’re hurting me,” you whine. “You’re - ah, my arm–”

“I know it hurts you,” Roman taunts. “I could break it just like this. Fuckin’ snap it. I think about it sometimes.”

His words make you sick. Make you breathe funny, make you feel all icky inside. He fucking loves it, how your breath hitches in your throat, and how he can feel it happen under his palm. And when you’re afraid like that, you squeeze around him harder, walls pulsing, clenching…

Roman forces you down onto the bed, your face buried in his pillows. You lie on your stomach and he parts your thighs with his knee, still holding you in place, now with both of your arms bent into place. Roman holds them in one hand and kneels at your side, and with his free hand he rubs over the swell of your ass. He parts your cheeks, admires your tight asshole and your snatch. He traces those pretty folds of yours and rubs your clit, listening to those quiet gasps you swallow. He wonders when you’ll - and yup, there it is. You’re writhing on the bed, grinding your hips into his palm. Roman smiles at this. The rules, you’re breaking the rules. “I’m not gonna make you come,” he reminds you. 

“I know,” you mumble.

“I’m only getting you wet.”

“I know.” 

“Then what do you think you’re doing?”

Silence. Roman removes his fingers from your cunt and spanks you hard - once, twice, three times total. You wail in pain, humming rhythmically in an attempt to soothe yourself of the ache, that awful sting. Roman traces the outline of his puffy handprint on your ass. “You just don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter how many times we do this little dance. You never learn who calls the shots. Un-fucking-believable,” he huffs. “I don’t give a shit if it hurts - you can forget about getting wet now. Spread your legs.”

Roman situates himself behind you as you spread your legs, though it’s not enough. Roman holds the backs of your knees in his hands and spreads you wider, the cool air a jarring sensation against your hot, pulsing sex. He unbuckles his belt and tosses it on the floor where it lands with a loud thump. He undoes his pants next, the zzzzip noise slow and loud as the metallic teeth separate one by one. Roman pulls his already-hard cock out and before entering you, brings his palm to your mouth. “Don’t say I don’t do anything for you. Spit.” 

You lift your head and spit into his palm, and he strokes his cock with it before pressing his blunt head against your entrance. You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a breath, anticipating what’s to come. 

Roman thrusts violently into you, the stretch and the burn causing you to squeal. You scramble for hold on the sheets, the pillows - anything to ground yourself as you take the pain he gives to you. Roman grabs a fistfull of your hair and yanks, “C’mon,” he goads. “You can do better than that.”

Roman pulls out of you all the way and plunges right back into you, harder than before. You bite into a comforter to muffle a sob, the first tears squeezing from your eyes. It hurts, it all really fucking hurts, and each time is worse than the last. 

He wriggles his forearm under your tummy and hikes your hips up, Roman on his knees behind you. “Fuck yourself on it,” he says. “Go on and fuck my cock. Show me that you’re good at one thing, one simple thing.” 

Following his command, you rock yourself forward, then back again. It’s slow, as that’s all you can stomach right now. The pain hasn’t yet dissipated and each movement, each twitch of Roman’s cock feels like a knife against your insides. The pain is fiery, too intense to focus on anything but. 

“Are you even trying?”

“Yes,” you whimper, till rocking, inch by little inch. “I’m trying.”

Too slow. You’re too fucking slow, and too fucking tedious. Roman rolls his eyes, “You’re fucking pathetic,” he spits, words like poison. He takes your hips in his hands and pulls you hard against his cock, his hips slamming against your ass as he sets a brutal pace. “I have to do everything for you. What can you do, huh? Tell me, say ‘nothing, Roman’.”

“Nothing,” you repeat, voice thick with your tears. “Nothing, Roman.”

“That’s right. Don’t you ever forget it, you goddamn useless fucking cunt.” Roman’s nails are digging, cutting into your skin as he fucks you like an animal. “You’re good for nothing but getting fucked. Fucking whore, you’re fucking nothing without me. Nothing.”

You nod, sobbing as he pounds into you. You’re completely powerless, just how he wants you. Roman bares his teeth as he leans over you to wrap his hand around the column of your neck, pulling you up and against his chest as he fucks up into you. Roman squeezes your throat, bruising the soft flesh as he bites into your shoulder hard enough so that he draws blood. The coppery taste, the crimson dotting your skin. He licks it away. 

He’s choking you. He’s choking you and you’re wheezing, coughing and sputtering as you try desperately to wriggle your fingers under his palm. You succeed in this, or perhaps Roman lets you have a small win - either way, you free yourself from him and crawl forward on the bed, reaching for Roman’s glass of water on the nightstand. With shaky hands, you bring the glass to your lips and take little sips, all you can handle and you’re still spilling onto yourself. Roman glares at you as he gets off and rounds the bed, then takes the glass away from you. “Did I say you could have that?”

“I was ch-”

Roman lays a brutal slap against your cheek, less of a smack and more of a beating. His palm is so sharp it makes you cry harder. Fuck, he loves when you do that. 

“Shut the fuck up. You choke if I want you to choke,” he bites. “Don’t pull that shit again. God, I fucking hate you.”

Roman forces you onto your back and spreads your legs again. He enters you just as harshly as he did before, finding that same, punishing, unrelenting pace as he fucks you deep, the head of his cock kissing against your cervix with every one of his thrusts. 

You choke on your sobs, hyperventilating as tears stream down your cheeks. You feel lightheaded, numb everywhere but where pleasure and pain flows between your hips. Breathe, you need to breathe. 

“Stupid fucking slut. I fucking h- oh, fuck. Shit. I fucking hate you. Jesus Christ, I really fucking hate you, you know that?” 

You cry and cry, burying your head into Roman’s pillows to hide your face. Roman pulls the pillows away from you and throws them onto the floor, then grabs your face, digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks as he squeezes your jaw. “Hey. You fucking look at me when I use you. Right here. You focus right here.” 

Your face is puffy with tears, eyes red and tear-stained, lashes all wet. Roman wears a crooked smirk as he digs his fingers harder into your cheeks so that your mouth opens in a little O shape, then spits into your mouth. “Cunt. I fucking hate you, oh, I fucking hate you.” 

Roman pounds into you, hovering over your body to cage you in. You’re gonna feel all of him, and nothing else. He pins your wrists together above your head, his face panting into the skin of your neck as he fucks you so brutally. “Oh my god. Oh, fuck. Fuck,” he moans.

If you focus hard, you can feel his pubic bone against your clit. You follow that sensation, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, chasing that sweet friction. You could come. You could. 

“Nuh-uh. Nice fucking try,” Roman half-laughs. “You’re not subtle.” 

Standing before you, Roman grabs you by the ankles and tugs you closer to himself. He puts your legs on his shoulders and ruts into you relentlessly, now chasing his orgasm. He could’ve gone longer than this, but he’s not gonna let you come on his cock. 

Roman feels that fiery pleasure build quickly in his belly, balls tightening, indicating that release is just moments away. “Ohhhh, fuck,” Roman moans gutturally, hanging his head back as he milks himself entirely, spurting rope after rope of his hot come.

You feel cheated. You feel used. You’re a crying mess when Roman pulls out of you, his spend spilling onto his bed. “R-Roman,” you whimper, violent sobs wracking through your body. Roman gathers his spend with his fingers and paints it over your cunt, lips all swollen and sore with the ferocity of his fucking. “I need you, Roman.”

Roman leans over you, “Go fuck yourself,” he whispers in your ear. “I mean it. Fuck yourself on your fingers.”

You’re completely exhausted. Fucked out. But still, you reach for your center and gather Roman’s come on your fingertips and circle your clit, willing your release along. Writhing on the bed, chasing a pleasure only Roman can give to you. And your poor pussy is so sore, beaten and bruised by Roman. He watches you intently and with dark, loveless eyes, that vein bulging in the center of his forehead. He covers your mouth with his hand and brings the other to your cunt, pushing two fingers inside, gentler than before. He curls those fingers repeatedly as you rub circles around your clit and oh, there it is. You’re pulsing around his fingers, muffled moans signaling your orgasm. Roman works you through it and far past its end, only stopping when you’re a twitching shuddering wreck, a bug flailing on its back. Pathetic.

Roman pulls his fingers from you and shoves them past your lips, “Suck,” he murmurs, then presses his forehead against yours. You lick his fingers, tasting your own release mixed with Roman’s. “God, you’re so fucked up,” he murmurs in a saccharine tone, and the sympathy in his voice sounds almost genuine. “So fucked up. Why do you let me do this to you, huh?”

-

Roman tags ❤️

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills

@highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @/always-andromeda

[weenie-extraordinaire]

Okay, I know reading comprehension on this website is non-existent, so I'll try to use small words in non-complex ways.

The USA was the first country in the world to recognize Israel as a State. Not a United State of America, an independent Nation State.

Do you know when Israel started receiving US financial aid? The late 1940's, after they recognized Israeli sovereignty.

Do you know when Israel started receiving US military aid? The 1960's. It started with Kennedy and the Raytheon Hawk Anti-Air missile system.

Do you know how many treaties, agreements, memorandums of understanding, and defense cooperation agreements the USA has with Israel? A lot. A hell of a lot.

What does this mean, you ask? It means that your country has got a shitload of bureaucracy tying your government to their government, and despite all the enthusiasm to blame "the Biden Administration" for providing the means to slaughter tens of thousands of Palestinians, invade Lebanon, and bomb Iran, well, Israel already had nearly 600 Foreign Military Sales authorized through the US Foreign Military Financing program(as of October 2023), with a ten year Memorandum of Understanding signed in 2019 and valid until 2028. This wasn't some snap decision from "sleepy Joe" to arm Israel; y'all have been doing so since before the towers fell, since before the Berlin wall fall, hell, since before the assassination of JFK.

Do you understand now, or do you need a bit more explanation?

I'm gonna assume you still don't understand.

Close to 60 years of inertia cannot be brought to an immediate halt by any President. There are far too many intelligence, military, economic, and diplomatic ties with Israel to just make it all just... go away. It ain't happening overnight. It didn't happen under Biden. It certainly ain't happening in the next four years. And you might wanna include the full context of the quote you pulled, because cherrypicking is for cowards.

riotbard wrote: surprising absolutely no one but in a contest between 99% Hitler and 100% Hitler the voters wanted full Hitler. They don’t want bargain value Hitler they want the full thing. Oh well, guess next time we’ll run 102% Hitler and see if THAT excites these ungrateful assholes. Didn’t even want Dollar Tree Hitler smh

weenie-extraordinare wrote: This looks and sounds both incredibly fucking unhelpful and terminally online. So Joe Biden and Kamala Harris aren't perfect and beautiful beings of light here to save the world from a shitty celebrity criminal. So they didn't singlehandedly tell a sovereign nation explicitly to stop committing genocide. So they didn't go far enough left for you. Okay. Instead of spending your time crying over how much everyone else in your country loves Hitlers, maybe go outside and talk to people instead of holing up online and blaming the political party that does not want to strip you of your rights for not beating the party that does want to strip you of your rights. Like, I get it, it's not a great time for America. But it could be worse, and now, it will be worse. And if you thought Joe and Kamala were Hitlers, well, just wait and see what Trump has planned for women, Palestine, and Ukraine.

Motherfuckers be like, "Do you know your history?" Better than you yankee-fucking-doodles, apparently. Thank god y'all are just screaming into an internet void instead of saying this kind of shit to people's faces. Y'all make a huge deal out of pointing the finger at your politicians, carrying on like Biden is out there personally, when it's Israel's IDF pulling triggers and slaughtering children. Yeah, the USA is selling them munitions and bombs. It's Israel that's using them. Don't get it so twisted that you're ignoring who is actually murdering the people of Palestine. And let's be real here, y'all pulled a post about "Kamala Harris is not Hitler because a nation she is not the VP of is committing genocide" and turned it into "Look at this fucking verminous approbate, he thinks the black woman isn't a hitler!" And then it kinda swung into "OF COURSE the Biden Administration was solely responsible for allowing them to bom Palestine, and not the blank check written by the US FMF(Foreign Military Financing program)." Y'all so up your own asses over your moral rectitude that you'll dogpile any motherfucker who doesn't bark how you do. Maybe write some letters to your congress, your governors, anyone who represents you, and make your opinions heard. Maybe present those opinions as staunch opposition to the Israeli genocide of Palestinians instead of trying the "Kamala Harris is 99% a Hitler" approach.

And for the record, I have opposed the Israeli occupation of Palestine since the first time I hear about it in the 90's. I still oppose it. I will continue to oppose it. The absolute carnage that is being wrought today is inexcusable. It was inexcusable from the first Nakba, through each fresh conflict, and to the present day.

Free Palestine. End the genocide.

Hey, quick question, who's killing Palestinians? Is it Israelis, or is it Americans? I'd have replied, but you have replies restricted.

September 2, 2024

You know as well as I do that Israel wouldn't have been able to commit this holocaust or invade Lebanon or bomb Iran without the enthusiastic steadfast unwavering zero-red-line ironclad support of the Biden administration. I'm not going to entertain your faux incredulity. It is transparent horseshit.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, references to domestic abuse, mild sexuality

"Daryl?" you called down the stairs. It was dark down there, but not entirely. You could tell he had a dim light on. "I'm coming down!"

When you passed the doorframe at the bottom of the steps, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed with a bottle in his hands. He was staring at it like the label was in a foreign language, even though you could read "Buffalo Trace" from where you stood.

"What happened?" you asked him, your voice seemingly breaking his trance. He looked up at you, almost sheepishly, but only for a split second.

Daryl gulped at the tightness in his throat and shrugged. "Nothin' happened. Least—not to me," he said pointedly.

Your stomach somehow seemed to both sink and twist at the same time and you opened your mouth to say something but you came up empty. You struggled for something to say. "Where'd you get that?" you asked gesturing to the bottle.

"Oh, I—I found it on a run a while back. I always got a bottle of somethin' tucked away, ya know. Never know when ya might need it." He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"So, you're just planning on getting piss drunk then? Is that what this is?" you asked, and you couldn't keep an edge out of your voice. For the first time since you'd come in, Daryl looked up at you—really looked. He stared for a long moment and then reached over and set the bottle down on his nightstand with a loud clack.

He stood up, his broad shoulders and chest on full display as he paced over to you, his blue eyes narrowed. You found yourself backing up and suddenly your back hit the wall. A small gasp of surprise left you. Daryl still stepped in one more time, breaching that small buffer of space you usually maintained and staying there. "So, yer just gonna go back with him? Stay with him?" he growled.

You let out a shaky breath. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Yer s'posed to leave his ass before he fuckin' kills you. Or before I kill him," Daryl growled.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between his. "If I try to leave, then he will kill me," you whispered.

Daryl let out a long sigh and placed his palm flat on the wall beside your head, leaning toward you. With his other hand, he brushed a stray strand of your hair away from your face. "Ya really think I'd ever let a damn thing like that happen," he whispered.

Your heart was racing and your chest heaved with your breath now. You don't know for sure who started it—not for sure. It could have been that you reached up and placed your palm in the center of his chest and spoke his name. Or it could have been that Daryl simply crashed his lips down on yours, gripped your hip and pressed against you. It didn't matter. The next moment you were entirely wrapped up in him, entangled in each other. Before you knew it, he was kissing your neck and his hands were wandering your curves. Your fingers were in his hair and beneath his shirt, running over his strong muscles and hitching on his scars. Daryl lifted you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him heatedly as he carried you to his bed and tipped you back onto it, crawling over you, desperate to keep his lips on yours or kissing your soft skin. One hand on your hip and the other smoothing over your arm and then lacing with your fingers, the heat between the two of you was building to a temperature that would surely consume you both.

But suddenly—reality came back and with a tremendous effort your ragged breathing turned into saying his name again. He felt you pulling back, pulling away. He leaned up over you and his blue eyes flickered over your face.

"I—I can't," you gasped, and it sounded like it broke your heart to say it. "We can't..."

You watched the turmoil roiling in his eyes. You hoped he could see how desperate for him you were... and understand why you couldn't.

"He dun deserve you... not that I do either," he breathed, still caged over your body, the heat of him pouring into your skin. He brushed your hair back from your face so tenderly that tears filled your eyes and you pulled in a stuttered breath. "But at least I'd always treat ya righ'. I'd never lay a hand on ya. Ya know that."

A tear broke out and ran down toward your temple. Daryl wiped the streak from your cheek. "I know," you said.

"We can have this. I can keep ya safe. Deal with him."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Then don't. Just let me do it."

No prompt today... and maybe a full one shot on this soon? One of those things that just appeared and struck me until I put it down. I'm working on our next update to The Ghost series, but it's been slow going with real life things happening! So hang in there with me.

[theamazingdigitalraceway]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The truth of Caine and Abel is revealed! Seth gives Pomni the help she needs to avoid capture! Abel's labyrinthian city is dense and confusing. Can pomni navigate it before her friends abstract? It may already be too late.

WARNING: physical violence/torture, intense action, abstraction, alcohol

~~~

The silence of the In-Between was palpable. Only Seth and Pomni existed in the space between spaces. Darkness in all directions. Only light was from the low silver fire that glowed in a circle created by the motorcycle. The muted city beyond the clear barrier in bounds gave off flashes of lightning from a heavily clouded sky.

Pomni watched Seth carefully. His shadowed stoicism betrayed no clear motive. Knowing what was happening to the others made her stomach twist into knots.

Seth took another long drag and tossed his cigarette away with a heavy exhale of silvery smoke. "You'll understand better if I just show you."

The smoke enveloped Pomni. It smelled like dust burning on hot coils mixed with an electrical fire. "Hey! What-!?" Pomni coughed and gagged on the foul smelling smog as it burned the corners of her eyes. When the smoke cleared, she was still staring at nothing, but now Seth was gone as well.

The sound of a computer booting up startled her, like she'd heard in her dreams. Green text scrolled in front of her as though on a large projector. All of it was mirrored, like she was seeing the text from the inside of the screen. The unrecognizable code was followed by a response command being typed out in front of her. Then, the text went away. The screen slowly brightened.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

Pomni squinted against the light. There was a large blurry silhouette beyond the warped glass. It sounded like Caine, but less boisterous and with no showman cadence.

"Come on, your live audio processing should be functional. I triple checked the darn thing."

There was typing on a keyboard and the figure leaned closer to the screen, the face coming into view. Before her was a young man, likely no older than twenty, with slicked back black hair and patchy facial hair. Focused, light blue eyes squinted behind wide brimmed glasses.

"Okay, how about now? Can you hear me, T.R.U?"

There was another beat of silence until a robotic version of the young man's voice responded. "I can hear you. Good morning, Abel."

"HAHA! YES! It speaks! Finally!" Abel jumped out of his chair with both fists in the air. "They are going to eat their words! Oh my goodness, I need to get you ready for presentation!" Abel threw himself back into his chair, nearly falling over. "T.R.U., you have NO idea what you're going to do for my grade!" Abel's grin was ear to ear as he started to fade into smoke.

"I almost forgot how he smiled." Seth's voice spoke in the back of Pomni's mind.

"You were a science project?"

"At first. We became more than that rather quickly." The smoke cleared to a workshop camera view. Abel was hunched over a workbench with a soldering tool working on delicate electronics.

The robotic voice of T.R.U sounded more refined when it spoke this time. "You're going to turn into a shrimp sitting like that all the time."

Abel stopped working and stretched. "Ugh, too late for that. But, a worthy sacrifice to get this done. Mark my words T.R.U, one day I'll be able to visit you in the digital realm. I've always wondered what video games would be like on the inside. Can you imagine playing something like Legend of Zelda in person!? That would be cool."

"It's all JavaScript to me." T.R.U verbally shrugged.

Abel laughed. "Well, as soon as that grant money comes in, I'll be able to get this done faster. Maybe even hire help. We're going to show dad- I mean, the world that you aren't just a cool AI program. No, you are THE AI We'll revolutionize the digital space! If computers are the future, then YOU will be the razor's edge! The ultimate Technical Research Unit!"

"There is more to learn? I've already gathered what I could from your limited internet."

"Give it time. It'll grow, and you'll grow with it. By the turn of the millennia, I bet you'll be ready to go global!" Abel was excitedly pacing the room, looking right into the camera at the end of his declaration. "The only thing is, you have the voice but you need a face. That's going to take work." He picked up a wind-up chattering teeth toy from his desk and let it go clacking along.

The workshop disappeared into smoke and changed to multiple visions of Abel. Each scene, he looked a bit older. Seth's voice sounded more downtrodden. "We were like brothers once. We spent every moment together. In hindsight, I don't think he had a lot of real friends. He spent his time teaching us on top of working on his own projects. Things were good. Until the world took notice." The scenes around Pomni changed from screens inside Abel's home to big atrium crowds and board office presentations. Hundreds of eyes were on her and her stomach sank.

Pomni swallowed hard. "You got famous. Did money split you apart?"

"No...I wish it was that simple." Seth's smoke whirled around Pomni like a tornado, wiping away the memories and revealing a new one. Abel was sitting in front of his computer, face in his hands. He looked disheveled and was sniffling.

T.R.U's voice was smoother, almost human, when it spoke. "Abel? Please, talk to me. What happened?"

Abel grabbed a brown bottle that sat just off screen and took a long drink. "...his plane went down over the Pacific. No reported survivors."

"Abel, I'm so-"

"Don't you fucking dare finish that sentence. I am so fucking sick of hearing it. Oh, Abel, I'm so sorry. I pity you since your father died before he ever got the chance to be proud of you for something. Not like he ever would have been." Abel grabbed a pill bottle and tossed back three small tablets.

"I believe he would have been. Please, don't be hard on yourself."

"He wasn't proud of me for creating you. He wasn't proud of me when I graduated early with my master's. He wasn't proud when I started my own company. It was never GOOD ENOUGH!!" Abel threw his bottle, shattering it against the far wall.

There was a long stint of silence as Abel devolved into tears on his desk. "You are enough, Abel. You always have been. For what it's worth...I am proud of you. I'm sure your father was too, even if he didn't know how to say it. Put on the headset."

Abel sniffed, "It's not ready-"

"Put on the headset." T.R.U said again, firmly yet gentle.

Abel seemed too drunk to argue logically. He picked up a large, cumbersome device that fit over his head like a helmet. A visor covered his eyes. He clasped it in place and pressed a button on the side. There was a jolt and, to Pomni's right, a whirl of code slowly formed the silhouette of Abel. He was very lightly detailed, barely recognizable as a person. Pomni had no control over her movements. She stepped forward and embraced Abel's vague avatar. T.R.U's words came from her mouth. "You are everything to me. Please, don't forget that. Tell you what, why don't you give me a human name? T.R.U feels like a title more than anything anyway."

Abel squeezed Pomni tight. "You are my first creation. My Adam, if you will. Let's go with that."

"Adam...I like it. I am Adam."

"I bet I can figure out a cool acronym for it." Abel chuckled through the tears.

"Yes, you will. Because you are the smartest human I know." Pomni arms felt empty as Abel turned to smoke in her grasp. She took a deep breath as she processed everything Seth had shown her. "Did you mean what you said?"

"At the time. Like I said, we were close. Things only escalated from there. C&A took off and we were pulled into tech interview after tech interview. Eventually, Abel got too busy to attend and it was just Adam. The majority of the reception to our existence was positive, but you wouldn't believe the Y2K conspirators. They were convinced we would take over the world." Seth gave a humorless laugh.

Something itched in the back of Pomni's mind. C&A. Y2K. Conspiracies. Buzz words that stirred something in her subconscious, but she couldn't pin it down. "So... where did it all go wrong?"

"The more the world saw Adam without Abel, the more he was excluded from interviews and presentations. Adam became known as the first and only of his kind. A fully self-sufficient AI that was so life-like, it may as well be human. The attention came with a lot of praise. Too much. It...went to our head." The smoke showed multiple news articles, digital and material, about the incredible invention that was Adam: The TRU AI. "I wish... we'd seen Abel's growing distain sooner. Maybe all of this could have been avoided. Maybe we could've still had the future we planned. I don't know..."

The smoke cleared to reveal a much older looking Abel. He was snuffing a finished cigarette into a very full ashtray. There were heavy bags under his eyes as he poured himself a stiff drink.

Adams voice spoke. "Okay, I'm back. Sorry, that took longer than expected."

Abel didn't say anything. He just drank.

"The board of directors was very impressed with my latest profit projection model. We won't have to cut corners to make quota this quarter. Leaves less room for error. Also, I was contacted by Tech Monthly again. They want to write an article about my influence on the new digital age. I haven't scheduled the interview yet, is there anything I need to work around this week?"

Abel finished his drink with a gruff groan. "...no."

"Excellent. I have the remainder of the evening to myself. What are you doing tonight?" Adam sounded genuinely interested to know.

"Getting my game ready for beta testing."

"Oh...you're still working on that?"

Abel's eyes flashed dangerously. "Yes. I am. It's a hell of a lot better than dealing with stuffed up fat cats in suits that only care about how much money your invention makes. The headsets are ready. The game just needs a little more work."

"Abel, I mean well when I say this, but your talents are wasted on video games. Why merely entertain people when you can be on the leading edge of digital technology?"

"Why can't I do both?" Abel growled.

"You can. It just seems you've split your attention too far in two different directions. You're the CEO of one of the most influential up and coming tech companies. This is your chance to make your mark on the world."

"Like you would understand anything about that. You've existed for all of eight years and you think you know what's best for me??"

"I've spent my entire life with you! I literally know you better than anyone, even yourself!"

"If that was true, then you'd know that going inside games was literally what I built this for!" Abel showed a sleek headset. "If the technology didn't take so long to improve, it would've been my thesis project instead of you."

"...what?" Adam sounded shocked and devastated. "You- you said I was your greatest accomplishment."

"You're my research assistant." Abel said coldly. "But the world had to go and make a big deal about AI. You were never meant to end up like this. Stealing limelight that is rightfully MINE!" He slammed his glass down, turning to smoke.

Everything faded, giving Pomni a chance to process. "I still don't see how this results in him being trapped in his own game, Seth. What did Adam do?"

"He defended himself." The smoke cleared to reveal a view from the highest penthouse overlooking a massive digital city. Colorful fireworks exploded in the distance. "It was New Year's. Abel and Adam were supposed to be celebrating with his shareholders in the new digital space. But, as you can imagine, all anyone wanted to do was interact with the fancy AI in person."

"YOU!!" Abel's realistically human avatar stormed through the crowd and got in Pomni's face. "Who the hell do you think you are!? Do you know who I am!? I'm your creator! I'M supposed to be the one recognized! Not YOU!"

Pomni put her hand out in front. Her sleeves were black and wore off white gloves. Adam's voice came from her. "Abel?? How much have you had to drink? You're slurring."

"It doesn't matter! You! You're disgrace! All everyone talks about anymore is YOU! When I am the one slaving away behind the desk! I gave you a face, but you weren't supposed to use it like this! I gave you EVERYTHING! Without me, you are NOTHING!"

The shareholders standing around them awkwardly muttered amongst themselves. Some disappeared as they activated the exit.

"Abel, please, you're causing a scene. Can we talk elsewhere?"

"NO! I want witnesses." Abel snapped and digital chains wrapped around Adam, pulling him to his knees on the floor.

"What is this!? What are you doing!?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago." Abel snapped, summoning an admin hologram on his arm. "You were right, Adam. The game is a wash, but there is one thing I can do with it." He typed in a confirmation code and the city outskirts started to crumble. "I can watch you die."

The party guests started to panic, leaving in droves. The building beyond the window collapsed to dust, the night sky disintegrated, the world fell into a bright white void that came ever closer. Adam struggled against the chains. "Abel, stop! Don't destroy everything you built! Please!"

Abel looked down on Adam coldly. "I've always wondered what fear would look like on you."

Adam saw the void getting closer, the building they were in started to quake. "You'll delete yourself too!"

Abel laughed, "I'll be fine. System failsafe. Players are automatically ejected in the event of a catastrophic failure. I'm simply enjoying this while it lasts."

"No! No, no! Please! Don't kill me!"

Abel tilted his head in mocking curiosity. "Are those tears I see?"

"I don't want to die!" Adam's sleeves caught fire. The golden glow broke the chains and Adam launched himself at Abel. The glass separating them from the decaying outside shattered on impact. Adam had Abel by the front of his dress shirt and flew him high over the city. The once grand skyscraper they were occupying folded in on itself below them. The breaking sky glitched with multicolored lighting, the half faded clouds swirling chaotically.

Abel fought back, but he was overpowered by the desperate AI. Adam held Abel up. "If I die, I'm taking you with me!" Lightning struck Abel in the back. Blue static crawled over Abel's skin as he screamed in agony.

Then everything went white. It was overpowering, even when Pomni closed her eyes. She heard Seth again. "Adam pulled Abel into the game. Making him as real as the AI in this digital realm. Doing this took away Abel's admin access but...broke the exit. Adam couldn't leave either. He had inadvertently trapped himself with Abel inside the game, cutting himself off from the outside world."

The overbearing glare of the void opened to reveal Abel in chains, surrounded by fire. "The very first thing Adam built was a cell for Abel. Seemed fitting. The creation was now the creator." The fire blocked Pomni's vision of Abel, who hung his head low. "I suppose the Y2K conspirators were right, in a way. Adam did end the world for some. When the dust settled, only a small corner of the city had survived. Some back alley street racing mini game."

Seth's smoke parted to show an overview of what was left of the game. A tiny island suspended in the void. Thin illusions were all that separated the game from the vast emptiness. "It was bad enough that this was set to be our purgatory, but there was something we failed to consider. The beta testers."

Eight names pinged the arrival of the beta testers logging in. Their avatars glitched and malformed, turning into random anthropomorphized objects rather than full human models. One, Pomni immediately recognized. A tall white king chess piece with a purple robe grabbed over it. "Kinger!"

Seth sounded numb. "Back then, he went by Samson Kingsley. He was the head of coding and leader of the test team. He, of all people, never deserved this fate."

Kinger looked down at his strange body and his oddly shaped team. "Ha! Well, this is off to a great start." He said jovially. "Nia! Is that you?" He stared at the black queen chess piece.

"It's me, darling. What happened to our avatars?"

"No idea. This is a pretty big bug." Kinger snapped to bring up his admin hologram but nothing happened. "What the..?"

Then all eight avatars looked at Pomni like she had suddenly appeared. Adam's voice spoke for her. "I'm sorry, none of you have admin access anymore. The game is severely damaged."

"Adam? What are you doing here? What happened?" Kinger asked.

"A... catastrophic failure. I was here for New Year's and... something went wrong. I'm afraid none of you can leave."

"What do you mean-"

"There's no other way I can say it. You're stuck here. We all are. There's no outside communication. The exit is broken." Adam said bluntly.

A large, furry worm-like avatar glitched once. "We can't leave? Why!? What game are you playing!? It's not funny!!"

"I'm not playing any games. I'm sorry."

"I have a family!! My children!! My-my- AAAAAAAAAAA!!!" The worm's body split open to reveal black static. Colorful eyes peered out of the open wounds. The body enlarged and twisted in on itself. The abstraction thrashed about, unsure how to pilot its body. The testers ran behind Adam.

"What is that!?" Kinger screamed, holding onto Queenie.

The abstracted worm struck one of the other testers, who glitched and writhed on the ground. The second racer started to break apart into an abstraction himself from the pain.

Adam couldn't let this spread further. He snapped and the floor split open. The two monsters fell out of sight.

Smoke clouded Pomni vision again. She was breathing heavily. "Oh my god, it happened so fast."

"I know...we didn't know what else to do. The headsets were never meant to bring in whole people. Only they're active consciousness. The software was changed when Adam trapped Abel. And because the game was mostly deleted, it suddenly had so much memory to fill. It was trial and error to figure out what we could and couldn't do, Adam even integrated himself with the mainframe to try and make the experience more personable, but that came with its own problems..."

The smoke cleared to see the city changed. It was brighter, more colorful. Something out of an animated show rather than real life. Pomni was hovering over the street, hearing the rumble of engines fast approaching. Five cars zipped by underneath her and her vision flew after them. She recognized four of the five drivers now.

Kinger was in the lead with Queenie got on his tail. A yellow car threatened to pit maneuver Queenie, a tall purple anthro rabbit in the front seat. A light blue car came out of nowhere and sideswiped the yellow car. The driver was doll-like with red hair.

"Oh my god, I never knew Jax and Ragatha had been here so long."

"They arrived not too long after the beta testers, but unfortunately the majority was gone by the time they showed up. It was for the best. Adam was storing players memories away by this time to keep them from abstracting."

"That's why I don't remember anything? Caine was doing what Adam did??"

"Yes." Seth said flatly.

"My head is starting to to hurt." Pomni rubbed her temples. "You and Caine are Adam?"

"Yes."

"Why are you not anymore?"

"Remember that I said Adam integrating himself into the mainframe was a bad idea? Watch."

All five cars crossed the finish line in a tight pack. Kinger in first. The white chess piece jumped out of his car and cheered. "Woo! Oh yeah! Fifty win streak in the bag!" Another gold badge adorned Kinger's purple and white tracksuit.

"I almost had you." Said Queenie.

Kinger grabbed her hand and pulled her into a low dip. "Almost. But I still got it. Hail to the king, baby."

Queenie giggled. "You're such a dork." She pulled him in for a soft kiss.

"Well done, Kinger." Adam congratulated. "You've managed to claim all the available achievements for the races."

"Will there be more?" Asked Kinger.

"Uh, more?"

"Yeah, we can't race around the said city block forever."

"It- it's not the same. I've shifted the city around-"

"Moving obstacles doesn't count." Jax interrupted. "We want new tracks. New worlds. A change of scenery."

"Oh...um-"

"Can't you do whatever you want? You're the one pulling all the strings." Jax sneered.

Adam went silent as the buildings around them started to flicker. The whole city glitched and shifted. Kinger rushed to Adam, holding his shoulders. "Hey, hey, it's okay. He didn't mean to be rude. You're doing fine. You're still figuring this all out. You'll come up with something."

"...yeah..." Adam quietly sighed. "I wasn't designed to be a creative AI. I need...hmm. You guys rest, I'll have something for you in the morning."

Smoke overtook everything. Seth's voice sounded distant. "That... was the night of the divergence. I don't remember how it was done, but Adam split himself into two beings. The Racemaster and the Shadow. To keep the game from glitching, Caine and I were never made one with the game code itself, but we could still manipulate it. That is where my shared memories with Caine end. Not that my first memory with him is any better."

"Seth?" Pomni didn't like the weak cadence to Seth's voice.

The smoke settled to the ground to show Caine looking himself over. His suit was immaculate, not a digital stitch out of place. He snapped and a cane with a golden tire topper appeared out of thin air. "Ah, perfect. Oh, hello, Seth." Caine looked directly at Pomni. "You ready for your first race? If anyone makes it far enough ahead, that is." He chuckles.

"Sure. Whatever." Pomni felt herself say with Seth's voice.

"Oh, come now. Don't be like that. It'll be a great day. Nothing is holding me back anymore. I can create to my hearts content, and the game is mine to command. You-" Caine poked Seth in the chest with his cane. "-on the other hand, get to take everything else to the shadows of the new realm. Because you are the backup. I am Adam fully realized. You are everything he didn't want. That's why you only get to come out a play occasionally. So, until then." Caine snapped and Pomni fell though the floor. She fell and fell and fell into a vast black nothing. Smoke rose from her body, flashes of memories played around her as she continued to fall.

Riding a motorcycle. Silver fire. Kinger crossing the finish line before her. Holding a disembodied white gloved hand. Queenie abstracting. Kinger turning away. Caine having nothing but distain in his eyes. Sitting next to Jax, only for him to get up and leave. Ragatha striking Seth in the face. Gangle refusing to look at him. Abstraction after abstraction. A new racer. A mostly complete human woman with an exposed spin for a neck and a black void for a face. This woman filled every single memory that surrounded Pomni's decent. So many races. Fights. Overlapping conversions. Laughter. Holding her. Kissing her. Blue and silver fire danced. Shadows overtake clasped hands. Lily flowers poured from the memories, turning to smoke.

The smoke caught Pomni. She floated to a stop in front of an overwhelming memory, silencing all others. A race. The woman was on her own motorcycle, several lengths ahead. They were speeding down a long straight away. No other racers in sight. Without warning, the track ahead tore open. The void shined through the rift. The racer tried to stop, but twisted her bike too harshly in panic and went sideways. The motorcycle slid to the side, coming to rest against the track wall, while the racer went over the edge. Her reaching out for him was the last thing he saw from her.

"MANGO!" Seth teleported from his motorcycle to the rift, but she was already out of sight. He dove into the void without a second's hesitation. He called for her. Over and over.

The memory cracked with every call of her name. Eventually, it shattered. Falling apart and becoming smoke. Pomni was enveloped. Blinded by smoke she could suddenly smell again. She coughed and waved her arms to clear the smoke. Her feet found solid ground again. The smoke faded. She was in the In-Between, Seth was leaning against his motorcycle with a thousand yard stare.

"Seth?" Pomni said gently, stepping closer.

He blinked, jerking himself out of his trauma spiral. He looked away from Pomni. "You weren't supposed to see that last part."

"Who was she?"

"Everything." He answered quietly, taking an engraved metal lighter out of his pocket. He flipped it open and struck it. The bottom of the flame burned blue and faded to silver around it. "I came for you first... because you remind me of her."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Pulling you from that out of control car...it helped."

Pomni took a big step forward and hugged Seth. He almost dropped the lighter out of surprise. He closed the lighter and returned Pomni's embrace. He'd forgotten what these used to mean to him. He could feel Pomni's empathy without her saying a word.

~

Caine groans as Abel slams him against the same wall for the fifth time. The Racemaster slump to the floor, his tux glitched out to point of being unrecognizable. The chains holding his wrists yank him back up to his feet. Abel, in Gummigoo's body, got in Caine's face. "Where. Did. They. Go?"

"I told you...the In-Between." Caine wheezed out.

"That doesn't mean ANYTHING!! There is no such place in the game files!" Abel snarled.

"It's...it doesn't exist in the game. Or out of the game. It's a pocket in between the layers made by Adam before the divergence. I don't remember...how..." Caine was dizzy from the abuse, on the verge of losing consciousness. "But even if I did...I wouldn't tell you."

Abel growled, his gator persona vibrated with anger. He raised his clawed hand to strike Caine, but the walls started glitching out. Cries from the screens featuring the racers showed that they were avoiding sections of track that suddenly went missing. Abel dropped Caine, gripping his head. "Argh! Fuck! What is that!?"

Caine smiled. "Not so easy, is it? Controlling an entire game...and everything in it. Emotional outbursts lead to loss in concentration... and you don't want that. You merged directly with the game...bad move. I can tell you that from experience."

"Shut up!" Abel barked. He braced himself against his chair, waiting for the world to stop glitching. "I just need...more time." He grumbled.

Caine took a breath, finally having a break from the torture. He watched the racers on the POV holograms. "Hang in there. All of you. He can't keep this up forever."

~

"So, what do we do now?" Pomni asked, pacing.

"Frankly, I have no idea." Seth rolled the lighter in his hand, running his thumb over the engraved lilies.

"Well, I can't do nothing. Abel will get sick of Caine eventually. And who knows what he's doing to the others on the track. But you can't go out there. I don't have a kart-"

Seth stared at his lighter. "Actually...you might." He snapped and the shadows revealed a black and blue motorcycle. It rested on its kickstand surrounded by personal items, candles and silver lilies.

"That's her bike." Pomni said soberly. "You turned it into a memorial."

"One of the few things I've made. Here's the thing: that bike still holds an imprint of its last racer. Mango was...well, let's just say she had a fire in her that put mine to shame. You won't be able to just hop on and ride. But she would recognize me."

"Okay...why can't I just use your bike then?" Pomni gestured to the solid black motorcycle.

"Because it's just an extension of me. If you're serious about out racing Abel to get to the others, we need serious skill on our side. Mango was the best racer we ever had. I'd dare say better than Kinger in his hayday. We need her." He put his hand on the handbar and the dash lit up. The gadges glowed a soft blue and cycled through a start up, ready for ignition.

"Huh...Didn't think I'd ever hear you admit someone was better than you."

Seth shrugged. "What can I say? I'm weak for a woman that can kick my ass."

Pomni huffed a short laugh. "Alright then, what's the plan? Do we ride out on the same bike?"

"Sort of. You need my powers to get in and out of the in-between. Best way to do that is a shadow merge. You've seen me take control of Caine assets, yeah? It's similar. But, instead of taking over your body, you take over mine."

Pomni put her hands out in front of her. "You know what? I'm past the stage of questioning everything. Fine. Let's do this. Who knows how long the others have."

Seth held out his hand to Pomni. "Mind you, I've only done this once before."

"Great. I've never done this." Pomni took his hand and she was pulled in close.

Seth's silver irises glowed against the black surroundings. "Relax. Dance with me."

Pomni told herself not to question it and went along with Seth's movements. He waltzed her around the bikes, the darkness slowly overtaking them. He intertwined his fingers with hers as the shadows climbed up their bodies. The cold darkness became warm and comforting, like a lover's embrace. Pomni closed her eyes as the creeping shadows covered her face.

~

Abel rapped his fingers against the arms of his chair. Looking from POV to POV there was no sign of Seth or Pomni. "Bring me another drink." He grumbled, and Loo responded promptly. She brought him a tray of drinks to choose from. He didn't even look at her, just grabbed one at random.

Caine struggled to get up from where he was last left, and Loo went over to him to offer a hand.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Shouted Abel between gulps.

Loo backed off, giving Caine an apologetic look.

"It's okay. Thank you, Loo, but don't get yourself in trouble over me. You're too sweet for someone like him." Caine manged to get to his feet. Not that he could go far, his chains were attached to the wall and he couldn't reach the chair even at full stretch of the chains.

Loo went to her set corner, waiting to be called again, but she kept glancing at Caine.

Abel tossed his emptied glass and stared down at himself. He snapped, turning the tracksuit black and blue. Including his hat. "Hm, that's a bit better."

"Pffffff, ahahahahahaha! Seriously? It took you this long to customize your avatar? That's the first thing Seth and I did when we got ours." Caine had nothing to lose. He wasn't afraid to get on Abel's nerves now.

Abel sent a bolt of lightning at Caine without acknowledging the comment.

"Then again," Caine groaned. "You've never had the best sense for fashion or flare. I mean, black and blue? What are you, an OC?" He cackled to himself through the barrage of lightning sent his way. It hurts, but he wasn't going to give Abel the satisfaction of hearing him scream anymore. "It's starting to tickle."

"AAARGH!" Abel roared, teleported to Caine, summoned a knife and dug it into Caine's chest. "Stop. Talking. You are the reason I'm here. You are the reason everyone is suffering. You're selfish, stupid little digital life was built on the misery of others! Every abstraction. Every person trapped. Is because of YOU! You will suffer, but it'll never be enough. Even if I get to do for the next twenty years! And the twenty after that! One day, it'll just be you and me in this digital space, but I will never delete you. Even when you BEG for it."

The pain silenced Caine. He put on a brave face to spite Abel, but inside was fraught with worry for Pomni and the others. "At least...she's safe..." He hoarsely whispered to himself when Abel pulled the bloodless knife from his body.

A dark blue streak across one of the POVs got Caine's attention. He squinted, trying to follow the anomaly from screen to screen. The speeding streak was near impossible to see in the low lights of the dark city.

"Finally. Enough out of you." Abel snapped the knife away and went back to his chair. As he sat down the streak zipped across the largest POV displayed. "What the-!? He's back!! You're not taking another racer from me!" Abel poised to snap but couldn't get a beat on Seth. The biker was moving in and out of frame too quickly. "Damn it! Sit still!" Abel snapped and the city shifted. Bay doors to buildings opened and cop cars poured out, blues light flashing. "Stop! That! Bike!"

Dark clouds gathered as blue lightning struck out from the top of the highest building in the middle of the city. Rain poured down in thick curtains, reducing visibility and slicking the already confusing track. Cop cars and helicopters where on Pomni like glue, despite the weather affecting them too. In Abel's rage, lightning struck a car, flipping it several times before exploding.

Pomni was backlit by an army of flashing lights. Her normally pale skin was inky black. Her eyes solid white and glowing. Every once red part of her tracksuit was now black. The blue stayed. The yellow trim was silver. Her hat was narrow and elongated, more aerodynamic.

The motorcycle beneath her screamed with determination to shake the competition. Pomni could feel Mango's imprint influence her moves. The hard right into the narrowest alley imaginable certainly wasn't her idea. Even more cops waited for her on the other side. The city was infested with them. She exploded out the alley, running down an NPC cop and ramping up the hood and windshield of the car. She jumped the barcode and swerved around a car that tried to run her down.

~

"Kill her! What are you idiots doing!?" Abel slammed his fist onto he POV console, causing it the glitch. He grabbed his head. A migraine ripped through his head.

Caine chuckled. "You'll never catch her. She's become a shadow racer. The very best the game has to offer." He smiled at the carnage. "Thank you, Seth."

~

Shadow Pomni was cornered by three cops trying to ram her into the side of a building. Instinctually, she teleported, and the cops crashed into the building, catching fire. Pomni then hit a neon booster, going even faster passed the swarming cops. The dark city streaked by, the rain flying off her tracksuit, doing nothing to slow her down. Rain drops evaporated by silver puffs of fire before her eyes kept them from blurring her vision.

~

"You have weapons! Fucking use them!" Abel snapped, trying to stop the bike.

"Weapons!?" Caine gasped.

~

Bullets flew over Pomni's head. She heard them ricochet all around her. She glances behind, narrowing her eyes. She revs the bike, blue and silver fire flared out the tail pipes like a dragon. The wet road is ignited by the mystic digital fire. It blocks the vision of those on the ground but gives her away to the helicopter.

The ground beneath her shifts and a building slides right in front of her, blocking the road. There was no where the turn. Pomni throttled it and popped a wheelie before hitting the side of the building. The fire blasted her straight up the face of the building, shattering the glass windows behind her.

An explosion to her left almost throws her, but she holds on. The helicopter has launched a rocket at her. She swerved to avoid another. When the bike reaches the top, she didn't slow down to run across the roof. Instead, she launched straight up as the helicopter sent another rocket her way. She grabbed the rocket and teleported behind the helicopter, releasing the rocket right into its tail rotor. The helicopter spun out of control and lost altitude.

Pomni teleported to a different roof and ran down that building to another city block, hoping to lose the cops long enough to find the other racers. The city was so big and constantly changing. Even with teleportation, the was no way for her to find them fast.

She had exactly one block to herself before she had six cars on her. Pomni teleported out of the line of fire, but was discombobulated on where to go. Just run. Her system was the highest it's ever been on the race rush. There was nothing she couldn't do. She spied a bridge connecting to another part of the city she hasn't searched through. Hoping to find the others there, she made a break for it.

~

"Oh, no you don't." Abel snapped. The bridge he saw her race for broke apart and started folding in on itself like a drawbridge.

~

Pomni was going to abandon the attempt, but the bike wouldn't brake. It was gunning for the bridge ramp at full speed. Silver fire trailed from the speed and adrenaline, giving her another boost.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Pomni leaned forward and held on tight.

The bike launched off the bridge and flew over the river sectioning the city. The bridge on the other side collapsed into the water before her very eyes. She teleported to the shore and stuck her middle finger in the air in proud defiance as she sped away. In a flash, she was out of sight.

~

"NO!! HOW!?" Abel frantically searched all the POVs. No sight of shadow Pomni.

"I hate to say I told you so-"

Abel was so mad, so lost in his anger, he doesn't know how he got to Caine so fast. "Finish that sentence, and I disassemble your code letter by number." The whole tower glitched. "Why are you so smug? She's not even coming for you. She's miles from the tower."

"I hope she doesn't. I wouldn't want her to catch your stench."

Abel smirked. "She didn't seem to have a problem with it when I promised her a way out. She's been against you from the start. They all have."

Caine broke eye contact for the first time.

"You deserve their hate and you know it."

"...maybe I do. I could never make their lives better. I certainly couldn't fix what Adam did."

Abel gripped Caine's collar. "You could have released me."

"I may not be him, but I know what you did. You think I'M petty? Who do you think I learned it from?" Caine matched Abel's glare again. "What's can't be changed, but you know what I've learned in my time being trapped with humans? Empathy. Compassion. Friendship. All the things you failed to learn in your twenty eight years of life before being trapped here. You're jealousy of Adam gave you THIS! You made this bed, now you can lie in it!"

"RAAAAH!" Abel shocked Caine hard against the wall. "I am your maker! You are my property!"

"So...the truth comes out...we were never brothers...were we..?" Caine said weakly.

Abel backed off, panting angrily. He huffed and lashed at the wall before going back to the POVs to look for Pomni.

~

Pomni teleported at random to stay out of sight. There were a few cops on this side of the river but didn't seem to notice her. An unfamiliar car speeding by her caught her attention. She sped up to ride along beside it and saw Zooble fighting to keep the car under control.

Pomni waved to get Zooble's attention. "ZOOBLE!"

Zooble's head snapped to the left. Their eyes went wide, looking Pomni up and down. "Pomni!?"

"Take my hand! I can get you out of here!"

"No! Get Gangle! She's just ahead of me!"

"I'll come back for her!" Pomni tried to grab Zooble but they swerved away.

"GET GANGLE FIRST!"

They both avoid a shifting overpass as they argue. Pomni knew there was no time, Abel could spot her any minute now that she found the others. She sped off ahead to the next car. It was swerving wildly, barely missing or scraping against walls. Gangle was behind the wheel, balling her eyes out in fear.

"Gangle! Ga- woah!" Pomni teleported from one side of the vehicle to the other as Gangle swerved around. "GANGLE!" Pomni pounded on the driver window.

"AAA!" Gangle jumped. "Pomni!?"

"Open the window! I'll get you out of here!!"

~

"There you are." Abel hissed. "I may not be able to summon you, but I can still do far worse." He snapped and all the cars came to a screeching halt. Pomni almost had Gangle but went speeding off. All the other racers in view had long, horrified stares to them. Some of them were muttering to themselves.

"What have you done?" Caine pulled against his chains to see the screens as best he could.

"Simply giving back what wasn't you're to take." Abel grinned evily at Caine.

"What..? Oh, no. NO! They'll abstract! Please! I beg of you! Don't hurt them!"

"Too late!!" Abel cackled, watching Zooble's eyes twitch.

~

Pomni I felt like someone was burying an ax in the back of her head. She saw flashes of faces she had only seen in her dreams, but now they had names. "Mom..? Dad..?" She had friends. She grew up in a small town just outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She moved to Chicago for college. She graduated with high marks in forensic science. She went freelance as a private investigator. So many cold cases. So many missing people. A mysterious contact from someone claiming to have worked at C&A gave her a lead. An abandoned building. A headset. She had to wear the headset...

"My name...Oh my god, I remember my name!" She realized where she was and drifted to a hard stop and burned out as she turned around to get back to Gangle. She was still the closest other racer.

~

Zooble remembered everything. The abuse. The neglect. The rejection from their family and society. The body dysmorphia. It wasn't just them not liking their avatar in game, it was something that translated form their real life. They went to the abandoned C&A office for a video. They were an urban explorer. That's it. No special reason or motivation. They were here entirely by their own stupidity. The horrible realization...no one was waiting for them on the other side.

Zooble sat back in the driver seat in the parked vehicle. Without a word or even a scream, their body started to break apart. The spindly limbs split to reveal black static bulging from every crack. Their eyes fell off their broken head. The abstraction filled the car until it exploded.

~

Pomni just got back to Gangle's car, but she wasn't in it. Gangle and gotten out and ran back to try and get to Zooble, only to witness them falling apart. "Zooble! Zooble, no!!" Zooble's car blow it's roof as the abstraction became too big for containment. She put her arms up to shield herself from falling debris.

Pomni wasted no time, she skidded to a halt to safely grab Gangle and vanished.

~

Caine watched in silent, wide eyed horror.

Abel reveled in Caine's misery. "One down." His laugh echoed with Zooble's roar through the city.

~~~

CH1 PREV NEXT (coming soon)

[revelboo]

I NEED A FULL FIC OF GIVE UP/GIVE IN NOW. JUST THE WAY YOU WRITE MEGATRON IS SO GOOD AND HOW HE IS WITH THE READER BECAUSE OF HIS GUILT BUT ALSO HOW HES GROWN AS A BOT. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THE NECT CHAPTER ATLEAST PLEASE.

Give Up/Give In Pt 6

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• Rotors humming, he tracks the minivan back to the Malto’s, never letting it out of his sight even as he sweeps the sky around him for threats. With the Seekers ramping up their attacks, he can’t risk an ambush now. And he can’t figure out Starscream’s game. Bold attacks had never really been his style unless he was sure of victory. These strikes feel more like probing, quickly lashing out to try and cause maximum damage and then warping away. Over and over. Always near human settlements-

• Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you track that silver aircraft. Even though the fact that he’s following, watching, should probably make you uneasy, you just feel safe. He’d saved you when he hasn’t had to. Heard you and reached out a massive, but so gentle hand. Taken you to help. None of that was really his responsibility, so why had he? You’ve heard the stories of the former warlord. Everyone had. Stories that painted him as a monster, but you can’t convince yourself that this is the same Megatron. It can’t be, those big hands were far too gentle.

• Always near human settlements where the fight will inevitably cause collateral damage and maybe fatalities. Primus. Like what had almost happened to his little ward below with the Malto’s. This isn’t about finding a weakness, it’s about undermining human opinion of Cybertronians. Specifically him. A bid to drive a rift between him and the Autobots, then? Circling lower as the van pulls into the driveway near the house, he transforms as he lands. Sees you leaning on the van’s door, staring up at him with wide eyes as the wind stirred from his rotors whips your hair.

• He’s bigger than you remember as he crouches as if aware of how massive he is and trying to make himself appear less threatening. Even shifting the arm with that big cannon attached so it’s slightly behind him as he holds out the other hand to offer you a single servo. And you’re aware of Dorothy glancing from him to you and back, lips pressing into a thin line like she’s trying to not smile. “Here, little one,” he says and that deep, faintly accented voice strokes over you and calms you, lets you rest a hand on that big servo. Moving slowly forward so you don’t pull at your stitches as you crane your neck. Biting your bottom lip, you shiver as he curls another servo around your shoulders, encouraging you closer.

• Primus, you’re tiny. Dorothy is no bigger, but she never felt so fragile, her attitude and presence her armor to make her seem much bigger. But you? Certainly no warrior as you look up at him with uncertain eyes, but at least there’s no fear there. Stumbling a bit and clinging to his servo as Dorothy starts forward and relaxes seeing that he has you. “I wanted to thank you,” you say and he’d almost forgotten how soft that voice is even as his spark twists. Thank him? Your life had only been in danger because of him. “For saving me.”

• “I shouldn’t have let Starscream lure me into a fight near humans,” he says, deep voice lowering into almost a growl. That tone should scare you, but it’s not directed at you and Alex and Dorothy don’t seem worried. Their calm helping you relax, convincing you that you are safe with him. His servo flexes slightly where you’re leaning on it, warm against your skin.

• Jaw working, he cups his other hand around you. Dorothy would put herself in his hand to be lifted, but you hesitate before shifting your weight, letting him carefully pick you up. Can feel Dorothy watching him, can almost feel her knowing smile and he’s sure she’ll have questions later. His servos close loosely around you, feeling your heart beating against him as he stays crouched, unsure if he can straighten without scaring you. And knowing how undeserved your gratitude is, he can’t say what he wants with the Malto’s right there watching him, so he switches to Cybertronian. “I’ll be your shield, little one. And your blade should you need it.” Your protector to repay the debt owed. Your head tips slightly, smiling uncertainly at him because you can’t understand, but that’s okay. He’ll show you.

Previous

[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” ~ Pt. 4 Franco x Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW cheating, rushed sex, unprotected sex?

Summary: At Lewis’s charity gala in London, Y/N is surprised to discover Franco among the guests, stirring up the lingering feelings from their last encounter. As the night progresses, the chemistry between Y/N and Franco becomes undeniable.

London was a city of endless lights, elegance, and charm, but tonight it felt stifling. I was dressed to perfection in an evening gown, something I knew would make Lewis smile with approval. But no matter how much I tried to focus on him, on being his partner for this important night, my thoughts kept wandering back to Franco.

Over the past week, his texts had been a teasing balm, sweet but taunting in their casualness. How are you? What are you up to? Wish I could see you, his words were gentle but persistent, each message stirring that familiar ache of excitement. It was like he knew how to pull me back in, even from miles away.

This week, Lewis and I had argued too. I’d wanted to go home, see my friends, maybe ground myself a bit. But Lewis had insisted I stay for his charity gala, Mission 44, which was happening that weekend. And, as always, Lewis won. He’d flashed that charming, persuasive smile, reminded me how important it was to him, and suddenly, my desire to go home seemed insignificant. So here I was, dressed to the nines, standing beside him at a lavish event, yet feeling miles away.

The gala room was stunning—an intricate, abstract design that was very much Lewis’s style, with bold shapes and moody lighting that made everything feel grand. Celebrities milled around, some famous faces I recognized, others more obscure, all adding to the glittering display of success Lewis had orchestrated. I could feel the admiration bubbling up within me as I watched him interact with guests, looking sharp in an all-black ensemble, his long coat adding a dramatic flair to his presence. He was magnetic, effortlessly commanding attention, and for a moment, I allowed myself to admire him as the man I’d fallen in love with.

But then, like a reflex, my mind betrayed me, filling in images of Franco—his cheeky smirk, the sparkle in his eyes, the memory of his hand trailing up my thigh. I shook the thought away, chastising myself, trying to remember why I was here. Focus on Lewis, I told myself, though it felt like a losing battle.

I drifted around the room as more guests arrived, glancing at the neatly arranged name tags on the tables. When I finally reached our table, I noticed Lewis’s name, then mine beside his, and… Franco Colapinto. The realization hit me—this whole time, Franco had been planning to come to the gala. And I was only now finding out… all those texts… he really was teasing me.

I glanced across the room, searching for Lewis. He was busy talking to a small group, looking perfectly at ease, as if this was all a casual gathering among friends rather than a high-stakes charity event. My mind raced with questions. Did he invite Franco? Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Part of me was thrilled, the other part terrified.

I scanned the room, searching for any sign of him, but all I saw were unfamiliar faces. Trying to calm my racing heart, I walked over to the bar and ordered a glass of champagne, hoping the bubbles would soothe my nerves. But just as I took a sip, I saw him.

Franco was across the room, talking to Lewis. He looked dapper, dressed more elegantly than I’d ever seen him before. It was a far cry from his usual race suit and boyish energy; tonight, he looked… confident, composed, yet still with that irresistible spark.

The way he was talking to Lewis, his face lighting up, his eyes wide with admiration—it made my stomach twist. I wanted that attention for myself. I almost laughed at how ridiculous I felt, watching my own boyfriend receive Franco’s excitement and admiration, jealousy curling inside me like a flame. I lingered, not wanting to seem too eager, though my heart was racing with anticipation.

Finally, as the guests started taking their seats, I approached the table, settling in next to Lewis. And then, Franco took the seat on my other side, his presence sending a rush of adrenaline through me.

Lewis talked to him warmly, the two of them quickly diving into conversation about the latest races, upcoming circuits, and throwing a few jabs at some stupid video game they like, that had them both laughing. I smiled, pretending to follow along, but the ache of feeling left out gnawed at me. Here I was, once again, between two men who held my heart in different ways.

Lewis leaned over, his attention on the person seated on his other side, which left Franco and me in our own little bubble. Franco leaned closer, his voice a quiet murmur. “You look Increíble tonight, Y/N. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re actually distracting me from this whole event.”

I felt my cheeks warm, glancing quickly to see if Lewis had noticed. Thankfully, he was too engrossed in conversation, leaving us blissfully alone. I tried to keep my voice steady. “You’re one to talk. I didn’t know you could clean up this well, Colapinto.”

He smirked, his gaze dropping momentarily to my lips. “Had to dress up. Didn’t want you thinking I’m only capable of looking good in a race suit.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling the flutter of nerves building. “Pretty bold to be saying that with Lewis right here.”

Franco’s eyes sparkled with mischief. He leaned in just a little closer. “What, he’s got you wrapped around his finger?”

I felt a surge of defiance and teasingly whispered back, “I think you’re the one who’s got it bad. Don’t you have more of a crush on Lewis than I do?”

He laughed quietly, the sound vibrating between us. “You’re not wrong. But right now… Creo que estoy más interesado en otra persona. (I think I’m more interested in someone else.)”

A thrill shot through me, and I quickly looked away, my pulse racing. Lewis chose that moment to raise his glass, signaling to Franco and me to join in a toast. We clinked glasses, the tension momentarily disrupted, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Franco’s fingers lingered just a little longer on the glass than necessary.

I felt a warm hand settle on my thigh under the table. My breath hitched, and my heart pounded as I realized it was Franco’s. I glanced over, but Lewis was too engrossed in his conversation to notice.

I tried to keep my face neutral, my heart racing as his hand moved slightly higher, his fingers brushing against the hem of my dress. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I struggled to keep my breathing steady. It was maddening, this dance we were doing, all while Lewis sat just inches away, blissfully unaware.

Just then, Lewis rose to go to the stage, ready to give his speech. My heart swelled with pride as I watched him make his way up, his presence captivating as he took the microphone, smiling at the crowd. But before I could fully settle into the moment, I felt Franco shift beside me, his gaze settling on me with that familiar, irresistible intensity.

“Lewis looks happy up there,” Franco murmured, his voice soft, but there was something else in his tone, a quiet invitation that pulled me in.

I nodded, trying to stay focused on Lewis, but Franco’s hand on my thigh, his quiet words, the warmth of his presence next to me—it was all too intoxicating. The room seemed to blur, the sound of Lewis’s voice over the microphone fading as I lost myself in Franco’s gaze.

But as Lewis’s voice echoed through the room, I felt Franco’s presence beside me, grounding me in a completely different way. He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “He’s Increíble. I get why he’s the star.”

I glanced at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. “He is. He’s… incredible.”

Franco’s gaze softened, his eyes searching mine. “But even stars need a break. Don’t you ever get tired of being in the spotlight?”

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his question sink in. “Sometimes,” I admitted, my voice barely audible. “Sometimes it feels like… I disappear.”

He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “No tienes que desaparecer conmigo (You don’t have to disappear with me.)”

The words lingered in the air between us, heavy and charged. It’s the way he says it, so sweet and genuine. I feel my heart swell up. I knew I should look away, break the spell, but something kept me locked in place, captivated by the warmth in his gaze. With Lewis’s voice in the background, I felt myself slipping, giving in to the forbidden thrill I’d tried so hard to resist.

After a moment, I made a decision. I leaned in, my voice a murmur as I spoke. “I’m going to the restroom. Be back in a bit.”

He held my gaze for a beat, a subtle nod confirming he understood. As I slipped out of my chair and walked through the crowd, every step felt like a countdown, anticipation building with each moment. I could still hear Lewis speaking in the background, his voice filling the room, but my mind was a thousand miles away, focused solely on the footsteps I hoped would follow.

I walked down the hallway, heart pounding, the noise from the gala fading as I moved further away. For a moment, a pang of guilt tugged at me. But just as I was about to turn back, I heard the door open and close, footsteps echoing down the hall behind me.

I barely had a chance to breathe before Franco’s hands found my waist, spinning me around, his mouth crashing against mine with a hunger that matched my own. He pulled me into a small service closet, the door clicking shut behind us as he pressed me against the wall, his hands tangled in my hair, his touch lighting every nerve on fire.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispered, his voice ragged, his breath hot against my skin.

I gasped, my fingers clutching his jacket, pulling him closer, my mind reeling, my heart pounding with the thrill of finally letting go.

My heart races as Franco's lips claim mine, his touch igniting a fire within me that I can no longer deny. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me impossibly closer as our tongues dance in a passionate duet. The thrill of forbidden desire courses through my veins, the risk of getting caught only heightening the intensity of the moment.

Franco's strong arms wrap around my waist, lifting me effortlessly as he pins me against the wall. I wrap my legs around his hips, desperate to feel every inch of him pressed against me. His hardness throbs against my core, a delicious friction that makes me ache for more.

“Eres la mujer más hermosa…" Franco whispers, his voice rough with desire. His hands roam my curves, leaving trails of heat in their wake. I shudder under his touch, my fingers clinging to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

In this moment, I know I'm falling for Franco. The passion between us is undeniable, a force that threatens to consume us both. I've never felt this way before, so completely lost in someone else's presence. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Franco's lips trail down my neck, his teeth grazing my sensitive skin. I tilt my head back, giving him better access, a soft moan escaping my lips. His hands slip beneath my dress, caressing the smooth skin of my thighs. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, the evidence of his desire pressing insistently against me.

My fingers tremble as I unbuckle his belt, the metal clinking in the dim light of the closet. Franco's eyes bore into mine, a mix of desire and uncertainty, questioning if this is really happening.

Franco meets my gaze, his own eyes dark with desire and something more - a tenderness that makes my heart ache with a love I never knew I could feel.

In that moment, I know I'm ready to throw caution to the wind, to give in to the all-consuming passion that has taken hold of us both. With a decisive tug, I pull Franco's belt free, letting it fall to the floor with a soft clatter. His breath hitches, a low groan rumbling in his chest as my fingers brush against the hardness straining against his trousers.

"Are you sure, Princesa?" Franco whispers, his voice hoarse with restraint. His eyes are soft and concerned, worried about the consequences.

My heart races as I nod, my eyes locked on Franco's intense gaze. There's no turning back now, no room for doubt or hesitation. I tug at the zipper of his trousers, freeing his throbbing erection from its confines. The heat of his skin against my palm sends a shiver down my spine, a testament to the raw desire coursing through our veins.

Franco wastes no time, his hands deftly hiking up my dress, exposing my bare skin to the cool air of the closet. I see him look at me and smirk, I can tell what he is thinking … I wasn’t wearing any underwear but that was for Lewis…I gasp as his fingers find me, teasing me with a featherlight touch that leaves me aching for more. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him closer, desperate to feel him inside me.

With a swift thrust, Franco sheathes himself deep within my core, stretching me, filling me in ways I never knew possible. A cry of pleasure tears from my throat, my nails digging into the firm muscles of his back as he begins to move, each stroke driving me closer to the edge of ecstasy. His low moans fill the small closet.

The world narrows down to the sensation of our bodies moving together, the slick slide of skin against skin, the rhythmic pounding of Franco's hips against my own. Lost in the throes of passion, I surrender myself completely, giving myself over to the raw need that consumes us both. It’s captivating and overwhelming.

Franco's lips find my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he growls my name. “Y/N… joder (fuck)” . The sound of his heavy breathing and feeling of him and his hands holding me up send me over the edge.

I can feel the coil of tension building deep within me, the telltale signs of my impending climax threatening to overwhelm me. Franco's thrusts become more erratic, more urgent, as he chases his own release, his fingers digging into my thighs as he holds me close.

With a final, powerful surge, Franco buries himself to the hilt, deep inside me as I shatter around him, my body convulsing with the force of my orgasm. We cling to each other for a moment.

As the last waves of pleasure subside, Franco gently helps me lower my dress back into place, his fingers lingering on my skin as if reluctant to let go. I lean into him, savoring the warmth of his body, the closeness we share in this stolen moment.

Franco's lips find mine once more, but this time, the kiss is slow and tender, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion of mere moments ago. He takes his time, exploring the contours of my mouth, the softness of my lips, as if trying to memorize every detail.

I melt into his embrace, my heart swelling with a sense of connection, of intimacy that goes beyond the physical. In this quiet moment, bathed in the afterglow I feel a shift within me, a realization that what we shared was more than just a fleeting indulgence.

The moment our lips parted, reality crashed back in, filling the small, dimly lit closet with a heaviness that neither of us could ignore. The rush of emotions—the thrill, the warmth, the spark—was still coursing through me, and yet, tangled within it all, was a pang of guilt that settled deep in my chest.

Franco’s hand remained on my cheek for a heartbeat longer, his thumb gently brushing my skin before he let it fall away. He looked at me, his eyes reflecting a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. His usually confident demeanor faltered, leaving him looking almost vulnerable, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of what we’d just done press down on me.

The silence between us was deafening, broken only by the distant murmur of voices from the gala room. Franco took a shaky breath, and for a moment, I thought he might say something to ease the tension, to make sense of what had just happened. But instead, he reached out and pinched my cheek gently, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Guess you really are trouble?” he murmured, his tone light, almost teasing, like he was trying to make this feel less heavy, less real.

I managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. The guilt lingered, clawing its way into my heart, reminding me of all the reasons this was wrong. “Yeah… a little,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Franco’s playful expression faltered, and he looked away, running a hand through his hair, clearly just as affected as I was. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he looked like a lost boy, unsure of what to do, of where we stood now.

“You know,” he said softly, his voice laced with a hint of regret, “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen. I mean, I wanted it, but… it’s Lewis. He’s—” He stopped himself, the words hanging in the air, unfinished.

I nodded, understanding exactly what he was trying to say. “I know,” I replied, my chest tightening.

Franco’s jaw tensed, and he gave a slow nod, his eyes still cast downward. “Yeah.…”

This was supposed to feel wrong; it was wrong, and yet… I couldn’t deny the connection, the pull I felt toward him. This moment had only confirmed what I’d been trying to ignore since the moment we met.

Franco looked up, his gaze searching mine, as if he were trying to find some sort of answer in my eyes. “But you’re…,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s like… I can’t help it.”

I felt my throat tighten, and I blinked, trying to hold back the swell of emotions that threatened to spill over. “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “This… us… it doesn’t make sense.”

He let out a soft, humorless laugh, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair from my face. “Maybe we’re just estúpido, then,” he said with a faint smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “Two idiots in a closet, making terrible decisions.”

I managed a small laugh, though it was laced with sadness. “Yeah, seems about right.”

He looked at me, and for a moment, the playful light returned to his eyes, even if just briefly. He reached out, pinching my cheek again, a soft, affectionate gesture.

We exchanged one last lingering look before turning toward the door, silently agreeing that we’d return to the gala before anyone noticed we were gone. As Franco pushed the door open, holding it just wide enough for me to slip through, I took a steadying breath, trying to compose myself, to act like nothing had happened.

The murmur of voices and the soft clinking of glasses greeted us as we walked back into the lavish gala room. My heart beat loudly in my chest, the adrenaline of our stolen moment still racing through my veins. I could feel Franco walking beside me, close enough that our hands nearly brushed as we made our way through the crowd, but neither of us dared to look at each other. We both knew that one glance, one shared smile, would be enough to break the fragile resolve we’d managed to muster.

Reaching our table, I took my seat quietly, trying to shake off the feeling that everyone could somehow see the truth, that our secret was written across my face. Franco settled into the chair next to me, his movements just a bit slower, his gaze fixed forward as though he, too, was trying to rein in the storm of emotions beneath his calm exterior.

Lewis was still seated on stage, speaking passionately to the crowd, and for a moment, I allowed myself to focus on him, to remind myself of all the reasons I loved him, all the reasons I was here by his side. But as proud as I was of him, as much as I admired his dedication, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering back to the man sitting beside me. The man who had somehow slipped through the cracks of my heart when I wasn’t looking.

The air between Franco and me felt charged, almost like static—an invisible thread pulling us closer, even as we both sat perfectly still. The memory of his touch, his lips, lingered, refusing to fade, a quiet ache beneath the surface that neither of us seemed able to shake.

He shifted in his seat, and in the dim glow of the room, I could see his hand twitch slightly, as if he was fighting the urge to reach out, to touch me again. I knew the feeling. The connection was undeniable, as much as we tried to ignore it, to pretend that we could simply go back to being strangers or acquaintances.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance over, his gaze soft and filled with something I couldn’t quite define. It wasn’t regret—not exactly. It was something deeper, something I recognized within myself, an unspoken understanding of the intensity that we shared, even if we both knew it was wrong.

A small smile ghosted across his lips, just a hint of the mischief that had drawn me to him in the first place. It was almost as if he could read my mind, as if he knew that the guilt hadn’t erased the spark, the passion. If anything, it had only intensified it, making every stolen glance, every unspoken word, feel heavier, more dangerous.

I returned the faintest of smiles, my gaze flicking forward quickly, aware of the way my heart skipped a beat at the subtle exchange. We were surrounded by people, by friends and strangers alike, yet I felt as though we were in our own little world, a world where the rules and boundaries didn’t matter. A world where, for a few brief moments, we could simply be… us.

The speeches droned on, and though I tried to focus, my mind kept drifting back to the quiet moments we’d just shared, the feel of his hand against mine, his lips warm and insistent. I could feel the tension humming beneath the surface, and despite the guilt, despite the complicated mess we’d created, I knew this was far from over.

We sat there, side by side, our shoulders just barely touching, the passion between us like a fire simmering just beneath the surface. And though we didn’t speak, didn’t look at each other again, I knew that somehow, someway, this pull between us would bring us back together again.

—————————————-

Thank you for reading! 😆

Please like and follow so I know you like my writings!💜

It means a lot! I appreciate you guys! 😘

BTW!!! I will make sure to add the “Franco likes tweet about YN” next time 😅😅😅😅 sorry loves

[arcanecor3]

Sister parallels.

Okay so, this is me trying my best to explain my view of the parallel between these 2 scenes

Firstly, a little thing to keep in mind is that in this parallel, s2 Cait represents s1 Vi and s2 Vi represents Powder 

A big fight just happened, s1’s was the Vander rescue mission and s2’s was find Jinx, and both ended up going wrong because of someone who was supposed to help (Powder; s2Vi). After everything goes down at the s1 warehouse, we see Vi screaming and she is angry (i’ll come back to that later), and then Powder shows up with the “my monkey bomb finally worked” line we all know, and on s2 we have Caitlyn being the angry one because Vi didn’t let her shoot.

a little parallel with the lines:

“you did this?”-s1vi to powder

“you stopped me”-s2cait to vi

“i was saving you”-powder to s1vi

“that was a kid! what if you missed?”- s2vi to cait

Now, both s1 Vi and s2 Cait are blinded by anger and grief, so even tho the other person (Powder; s2vi) is explaining themselves (in Powder’s case it wasn’t the greatest explanation, but she does states that it was an accident, and s2 Vi was being rational), they don’t really listen because of all the anger.

then, Vi slaps powder, making her fall, and that’s when Powder desperately asks: “why did you leave me?” to which Vi answers: “because you’re a jinx! do you hear me? mylo was right". Now on s2, basically the same thing happens, just in a different order: s2 Cait says: “I keep telling myself that you’re different. but you’re not. it’s her (Jinx’s) blood that runs in your veins”, then Vi asks her: “then why are you the one acting like her?” and Caitlyn hits vi, knocking her to the ground. AND IN S2 WE EVEN GET A SHOT OF ANGRY CAITLYN LOOKING AT VI CRYING, JUST LIKE S1 VI LOOKED ANGRY AT POWDER CRYING. LIKE HOW SICK AND TWISTED IS THAT.

Then both s1 Vi and s2 Cait walk away, leaving the other one crying alone on the floor. 

The thing is that crying is the exactly what we expect from Powder, since that’s how she was during the entire scene, because that’s how her character is. but not Vi. Because during the entire of the s2 scene vi wasn’t actually crying, in fact, Vi barely cries in the whole show, the only time we see her actually sobbing is during the bridge scene from s1e1, when she saw her dead parents. And since then, she has trained and fought to become a person who can protect those she loves. And even when everything goes down at the s1 warehouse, we only get to see her a glimpse of her crying before she tried to go back to powder, but she’s mainly angry, that’s the way Vi usually reacts to these situations. She gets angry. And she tries to do everything in her power to go after who hurt her/the people she loves.

But this s2 scene is different. She simply has nowhere to go. Once again, she lost everything. Her family? dead. you might argue there’s Jinx but as Vi herself said: “my sister is gone”. the last person she had was Caitlyn, and she left, and Vi now feels like she ruined everything again, because that’s how she is, she burdens herself with the guilt and blames herself. So when you see Vi just, on her knees, crying, it’s just so devastating when you think that she is like that because her life is essentially over. All there’s left to her is cry. Just like Powder in the end of s1e3, s2e3 Vi lost everyone.

But that’s when the parallel ends, because it’s when Powder was in that desperate state that silco came, and even though his character divides opinions, you can’t deny that he took care of and loved Powder (who became Jinx).

Vi doesn’t have anyone to come and save her, to wipe away her tears like she had done so many times before for Caitlyn and before that for Powder. She is alone.

thank you to whoever read this entire thing for contributing to my arcane obsession, and shoutout to my amazing friend who helped me put this together @crzytoogetherr 🥰🥰

[fanboyoff1]

Landoscar College Fic (2.4k words)

Inspired by this post. It was supposed to be a little drabble but it spiraled

@complementaryhalves Hope I did it justice. It’s not really a meet-cute since they both know of each other (or maybe that counts, idk how meet-cutes work) but I tried my best lol

Oscar really needs to set a second alarm.

He’s several months into college, so you’d think he’d have figured out a good sleep schedule by then. Unfortunately, that has not happened, and Oscar wakes up to sun on his face.

“Ughhh,” he groans, rolling over and pulling his sheets up over his head. It takes him a few seconds to realize there’s no annoying beeping that usually greets him in the morning.

“Shit.” He grabs his phone from the bedside table and jolts up when he reads 8:25 on his lockscreen. “Shitshitshit.” 

He tosses his sheets to the side, the old mattress creaking loudly as he stands, rushing because his bus is literally about to leave. Why did he sign up for early classes? Why, why, why? Even his professor Mr. Webber told him it was a bad idea once he’d heard about it, but he’d insisted that it would be fine.

Right now, it’s definitely not fine though. He brushes his teeth at lightning-speed in the communal bathroom, and throws on a navy blue sweatshirt and pants, nearly forgetting his watch. He’ll get a bagel or something for breakfast at school.

Thankfully, he likes to pack his backpack the day before, so all he has to do is put it over his shoulders, rushing down the stairs and out the door into the parking lot to see… His bus rolling away down the road without him.

Oscar drops his hands down from his backpack straps to his side in defeat. He curses the ground and his stupid clock under his breath, kicking at a loose rock. What is he gonna do now?

Well, he could call Logan, ask if he can give him a ride. Or maybe Charles drove today? He glances across the parking lot, but there are around three other cars that look just like Charles’, so that won’t be very helpful.

He’s about to pull his phone out when he hears a car pull out of the lot, wheels making a grainy sound against the asphalt. Oscar quickly backs away from the middle of the road and goes back to his quiet crisis.

“Hey, you need a ride?”

Oscar looks up to see the car that had been leaving stopped in front of him. The person behind the voice is a handsome guy with dark curly hair and tan skin, sitting behind the wheel with one hand dangling out the window. There’s a small flicker of recognition in Oscar’s brain, he must have seen the boy around campus before.

The driver seems to have taken Oscar’s silence as hesitancy, starting to talk again. “I-um, I saw your bus fuck off into the distance, and I figured you could use some help. I live right over there.” He points vaguely to another one of the student campus buildings behind them.

Oscar opens his mouth to politely decline immediately, but stops himself. Does he really for certain have another way to get to school? He remembers how he knows this guy now, he’s friends with Charles. Anyone who’s friends with Charles gets an automatic thumbs up from him, but being in a car with them…

“Yeah, I could use a ride,” he finds himself saying, not totally sure the words are coming from his mouth. The curly haired guy seems equally surprised, but masks it quickly. “O-okay. Just come over to the passenger seat.”

Oscar walks out in front of the car, and opens the door. Any move to sit down is paused by the fact that there’s a football in the seat. The boy turns when Oscar opens the door, looking through his eyelashes at him, and his eyes are really blue from up close. A bit of green too- okay, stop analyzing his eyes, he tells himself.

The driver- Oscar decides to coin him Car Guy- notices Oscar’s predicament and grabs the football, promptly chucking it into the backseat and patting the now empty seat for Oscar, who sits.

He twists his body to face the back of the car. “Do you think you damaged anything with that throw?” he asks, trying to find the football amongst the clutter of the car. There’s a few random clothes, a cardboard box on the right.

“Eh, it’s fine,” Car Guy says with a wave of his hand. Oscar turns back to the front, buckling up. Car Guy notices what he’s doing and buckles up himself with a guilty smile. Oh God, Oscar’s totally going to die.

“Just college campus, I assume?” Car Guy asks, adjusting his rear-view mirror that has a car freshener and a necklace hanging from it. The necklace has a big 4 hanging by the end. 

“Yeah,” Oscar sets his backpack down between his legs, and braces when Car Guy starts to drive away. However, he actually seems like an okay driver, despite that seatbelt incident that may haunt Oscar’s nightmares. 

After a few streets, he chills out enough to get a proper look at who’s driving him. He has a Texas Bulls shirt on, a hoodie under it, and to top it all off, a green letterman jacket with the number 4 on it. Huh. 4 again. Maybe the number 4 has some kind of significance to him. 

He’s really pretty as well, especially up close. His long lashes, his freckles, his hair that looks like it's attempting to be a mullet. 

Don’t you dare fall for a jock Oscar, he tells himself. Because that’s what he has to be, right? He has a Bulls shirt, a sporty jacket, and a freaking football in the passenger seat. There’s nothing else he could be.

And he’s still terrified about a stranger driving him somewhere, pretty or not. He takes out his phone and pulls up his messages, finding his last conversation with Dad 2.0 (an inside joke the two of them have.) He frantically texts Charles, asking, ‘Is curly haired boy a serial killer??’

A moment later, he gets a response back, a lot of question marks. Oscar sighs, running his hand through his hair and trying not to let his thoughts spiral into how he may or may not be getting kidnapped.

# # #

Lando’s trying to be cool. He really is. But Oscar’s in his car. He wants to squeal and kick his feet and giggle.

He’s had a crush on the Australian-born boy for a while now, ever since he’d seen him actually. They’d just been passing by each other while walking across campus, but it felt like a world-changing event for Lando (okay, he may be overreacting just a little, but have you seen the man?!)

Once he learned that Oscar was friends with Charles, he came out to his friend as bi and proceeded to spend his entire time with Charles ranting about how pretty Oscar was, or what Oscar was wearing today, or could he get some pictures of Oscar pretty-please?

Needless to say, the Monegasque was tired of his pining fairly quickly. “I don’t understand why you do not just talk to him,” he’d said one day during their lunch break.

“I can’t just talk to him, Charles.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s weird!”

“How? It’s just talking,” Charles had retorted, biting into his protein bar. “You can say it’s because you are both friends with me or something. There are ways.”

“Well, it- it’s complicated.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a good argument for that Charles, but just know that you’re wrong.”

So Lando had just watched Oscar from a distance (not in a creepy way or anything, just in an adoration way.) Until this morning, when he saw Oscar miss the bus, which was admittedly a little funny, he’d gotten the courage to ask if he wanted a ride. He hadn’t been expecting him to say yes, but he was ecstatic that he had.

Now they’re in the car together, and Lando’s tongue feels like lead whenever he attempts to make small talk. Oscar’s aggressively texting someone, and Lando has had to stop himself multiple times from looking at Oscar instead of the road.

Oscar sighs, running his hand through his swoopy hair. Now’s his chance. “Everything okay?” he asks, drumming a finger against the steering wheel as he waits behind a stop sign.

“Hmm?” Oscar looks up, raising his eyebrows, and Lando might die on the spot. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just texting a friend. You know Charles, right?”

“Leclerc?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, letting out a breathy laugh. “I was gonna ask him to drive back and pick me up but… Well I don’t know if you know this, but Charles likes to jog to school sometimes. I wasn’t sure if he had today or not.”

Lando barely processes what he’s said, which feels extremely rude even in his head. But Oscar’s smiling and it looks so cute, and the way his voice changes as he’s trying to stifle a laugh is addicting. “Oh, I think I’ve heard him talk about jogging to class sometimes. One time he texted me at like 6 am, I was so confused when he told me he was at school already.”

Oscar laughs again, and Lando tries to stop the butterflies growing in his stomach. “Ha, yeah, he’s like that. I think he just likes to be early.”

“I know, but 6 am??” 

“I’m not defending him!” Oscar says, throwing his hands in the air, the two of them laughing together. Lando feels joy spread through his chest, because Oscar seems more comfortable, he’s smiling and laughing and blushing and he looks so cute.

“Oh my gosh, I have this selfie of Charles he sent to me when he was on a run,” Oscar turns on his phone and started to scroll through his photos, eyebrows furrowed in determination. His hair droops down on his face, and Lando fights the urge to reach out and push it back.

After a minute or so, Oscar bursts out laughing. “Did you find it?” Lando asks. Oscar nods, shoulders shaking, and holds his phone out for Lando to see. It's perfect timing, they're stopped at a red light, so Lando turns his head to inspect the picture.

Charles has a headband and glasses on with no shirt. He must have been running when he took the picture, everything’s blurry and the background is just a mass of green and gray. The most noticeable thing is his face. He’s trying to wink, but it’s more like a squint, and his eyebrows are high up on his forehead. He looks partially like he ate something sour, and like he’s getting chased by a wild animal.

Lando snorts, and Oscar pulls the phone back. “I know right? Apparently, he took the photo and sent it to me without checking what it looked like, so now I have this treasure saved in my phone forever.”

# # #

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, and Oscar regrets thinking Car Guy was someone scary or a jerk. He seems really sweet and funny. And he’s attractive. But that’s besides the point.

Charles had been blowing up Oscar’s phone ever since his vague text about Car Guy, most of it consisting of ‘who the hell are you with’ and ‘answer your phone, you’re freaking me out.’ Oscar replies to his flurry of messages with nvm. It's fine. I’ll explain later

“Is this a good place to drop you off?” Car Guy asks him, and Oscar’s head jolts up. He parked just a few minutes away from his first class.

“Oh yeah, this is perfect,” Oscar grabs his backpack and opens the car door. “Thanks for this,” he says, turning back.

“No problem,” Car Guy says with a smile. He’s got a little gap between his front teeth. “See you around?”

Oscar gives him a thumbs-up and steps out, walking down the winding sidewalk to Mr. Webber’s class in room 222.

Epilogue

Oscar still needed another alarm. He just kept forgetting. And now he was running late again, this time far too late to even try to catch the bus.

He sits on the parking lot curb, about to call Charles (he’d taken his car today,) when a familiar voice calls out to him.

“Dude, you really need to wake up earlier.”

Oscar gives Car Guy a withering glare. He leans back in his car in response, a look of barely concealed fear in his eyes. “Well, do you want a ride or not?” 

Oscar sighs and stands, getting in the passenger seat. “No football this time,” Car Guy says with a grin. Oscar can’t help but smile back.

This car ride is a lot less talkative than the last one, a playlist of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus from Car Guy’s phone playing loudly. Oscar puts on an excellent act of pretending his ears aren’t bleeding from the music.

“Thanks again,” he says once they arrive at his stop. He gets his backpack and is about to leave when Car Guy speaks up.

“Hey um, I was wondering if maybe you could repay me by going on a date? With me?”

Oscar blinks once, twice. Car Guy obviously takes this the wrong way, his face reddening. “Never mind. Just… forget I said anything.”

“No,” Oscar says. “I don’t want to forget that. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” Car Guy says, his eyes lighting up. “Okay, here’s my number.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a folded Sticky-Note, pressing it into Oscar’s hand. Oscar wonders if he feels the electricity when their fingers touch too.

“Uh, this is gonna sound weird,” Oscar says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But can I get your name?”

“Oh. OH. My name’s Lando.”

“Lando,” Oscar says, testing the word on his tongue. “I’m Oscar.”

“I kinda already knew that,” Lando giggles, and now it’s Oscar turn to blush. “You look cute when you blush.” His face gets a thousand times more red.

“OkIgottagoI’lltextyoubye,” he says, almost stumbling out of the car. Once Lando’s car drives away though, he allows himself a bit of a victory dance, before walking to class with a skip in his step and only one word in his mind. Lando, Lando, Lando. 

Okay I kinda hate it 😭 But I don’t really wanna work on it more, so *tosses fanfic at the Tumblr gods and runs*

[mistreatedangel]

the stars between, theodore nott.

SUMMARY — you were his world, and he was your galaxy.

WARNINGS — nothing but fluff, short and sweet.

AUTHOR NOTE — i did write this off half an hour of sleep. so don’t kill me! written while listening to this song here.

WORD COUNT — 579.

it was more chillier then you thought it would be tonight. shivering in your loose ill—fitting sweater, that was more then two folds bigger then you. the fabric swallowing up your frame casting a blanket over your shoulders.

take a deep inhale, sucking in the air around you. drinking in the sweet scent of woody, a musk like scent with a hint of cigarette smoke.

he was here.

he always was. this was like his second home, a safe space he inclined himself to share, no grace your presence with. his own little paradise. a heaven in the hell you, and half of the students were doomed to live.

the with threat of death, and destruction.

you wouldn't pass up a chance to live a little on the edge, even if you had to share it with an snake. you didn't need that it was him out of all of them.

he was once of the nicer ones, on the eyes and in personality. theodore nott, was a man with a heart of gold. doomed to follow his family foot steps.

"i see your darling friends let you go." he voiced dragging out word darling in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes. flicking the ash from his cigarette on to the railing before him, inhaling the smoke filled air around him. as it burned his lungs in a familiar sensation.

a gentle, almost comforting taste of freedom.

ignoring his word of distain for your friend. closing up on the older male (only by a few months, which he had no problem rubbing in your face ever chance he got.) snatching the cigarette from his frail, skinny hands. taking a few puffs before flicking it to the ground, trapping it beneath your heel, twisting your foot on it. snuffing out the flames.

"rude." he mumbled with half lipped eyes, turning his body towards you. pushing his back against the railing, looking you up and down.

"whatever teddy," you giggled rolling your eyes. pushing his shoulder back. pushing his further into the railing of the astronomy tower.

raising up his eyebrow, in curiosity. "oh so i'm teddy now. what happened to theodore amore mio’? i thought i was in time out." he teased tapping his lips with his index finger, admiring your facial expression.

". . . you know what. yeah— theodore!"

snickering his teeth, waving his index finger back and forth in a taunting gesture. "no it's teddy tesoro'."

pulling your body closer to him, soaking up all your body warmth. he could be like this for days. just laid up in your arms. pushing away the inevitable doom, that seems to be knocking on the doorsteps of the castle.

moving your body around, snaking your arms around the older males torso. digging your nails deep into the Theo's side. which for sure would leave crescent moon marks on his back. a reminder, a claim, a mark that his was yours. and only yours.

"ow— i know you like it rough. but hell woman." Theo hissed slapping at your hands playful. grinning like a mad man. oh how much he loved, no loves you. you were the stars in his bleak skies. the light the shined bright even when the most damn tried to dim your light. there you stood, headstrong. his very own star, a gift from the gods above.

his very own star, you were his world. and he was your solar system.

two pieces made for each—other, destined to fall.