#it's almost always someone slightly to the side

[murderofravens]

BLACKEST DAY

pairing: cho sangwoo x fem reader

summary: old feelings are rekindled when you encounter your father's old friend at the games.

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, sangwoo is 46) badly written smut, face slapping, slightly toxic dynamics, a smidge of some age-gap kink. lots of angst. body worship. this is a oneshot.

word count: around 5k

[feedback and reblogs are a writer's biggest motivation.]

MASTERLIST

life has a funny way of reuniting people.

when you woke up in the hall, surrounded by strangers wearing those ugly green clothes much like yourself, your first thought was— 'i should have brought someone with me.'

you were always rather wary of doing things by yourself. things seem much easier when you have a helping hand to give you advice, or to make bad decisions together.

your first shock came upon the mention of his name, taken by one of the guards.

player 218, cho sangwoo.

your eyes snapped up to the screen where you could see a clip of him getting slapped after repeatedly losing the game.

"former supervisor of team two at joy investments, embezzled money from his clients, invested it in derivatives and figures and failed. current loss, 650 million won."

you looked around frantically before you caught sight of him— handsome as ever, although visibly distraught. his shocked eyes were looking at the guards with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

you had known sangwoo since you were rather young. idolized him at one point, even. he and your father used to be some sort of business partners— which you can guess was another word for friends who gambled and hung out occasionally. most of your years went by with him acknowledging you politely, getting you chocolate everytime he came to visit, and patting your head with a proud smile whenever your parents told him about one of your achievements at school. you wanted to be like him— smart, ambitious and a hard worker.

you'd moved off for college when you were of age, and according to his mother, he had moved to the US for business purposes.

which, as you can see, didn't work out.

you don't really try to make conversation with him, don't even look at his side of the room. mainly because you're embarrassed. there are two reasons— the first being that you don't want to see the man you idolized at a place like this. and the second is personal. your last memory of him isn't something you're fond of. it still fills you with resentment and a sense of sadness— you had asked to meet up with him before you were going off to college, hoping to express your feelings. you'd developed a childish crush on him when you were growing up, and it had expanded into genuine feelings over time.

but he never showed up, and you were left sitting in the expensive restaurant all by yourself. you never revealed that to anyone, deciding to take that moment of humiliation to the grave.

the first game was terrifying, to say the least. while you could tell there was something inherently shady about the whole organization, what left you in genuine shock was the first shot that rang out through the field, killing the person who moved. you were careful about your steps then, walking forward rather meticulously, ensuring you were not a victim in whatever hellhole you've found yourself in.

splatters of blood covered your face as you almost reached the line, hiding behind another taller man. there were a mere 10 seconds left. your heart was quite literally trying to beat out of your chest, and sweat dripped down your forehead. and that's when you first made eye contact with him.

sangwoo, who was bent in half, was panting as he looked at the finish line. his gaze rose, and connected with yours— eyes immediately widening with recognition. you were frozen as you looked at him, jaw clenched and panic stricken. he looked at the timer, and the doll turned away. you quickly began running, and you saw him straighten up as the timer began nearing zero. you jumped across the finish line, and his hand grabbed you to help. you stumbled into him and the both of you fell onto the dusty ground— a mess of sweaty limbs.

you don't say a word to him as the guards guide you back to the hall. he is just as silent behind you, and you wonder if it's because he's embarrassed about being there, or if he remembered what he did to you and is reluctant to acknowledge you after.

"i didn't expect to see you here." he remarks quietly, voice grim. his head is lowered, and there's an almost disappointed look in his eyes.

the audacity.

"i could say the same about you," you shoot back dryly, sitting cross legged on the floor. he looks at you then, and your gaze challenged his.

"you've grown since i last saw you." he adds, and you scoff in response. so what? you were still bitter.

"it's just two years."

he clenches his jaw and looks away, his ears feeling hot. you've always had a problem with keeping your mouth shut, and apparently it still applies. you look up at him, eyes accusatory.

"i thought you went to the states." there's a taunting edge to your voice— rather shallow and childish on your end, but you can't help yourself. you're playing with life and death, but still you're angrier about your history with him than anything else.

"all those degrees just to scam people? i'd expect more from someone like you, mr. sangwoo—"

"you don't know what you're talking about," he shuts your words down quickly, voice firm. he's quick to change the topic, visibly agitated. "i thought you went to college. what happened to your—"

"father?" you interrupt, sitting straighter. "he got scammed."

you look at him pointedly as you say the last word, and his eye twitches.

"he gambled away his money on some non existent race. i dont live with him anymore and i need money to continue college and pay rent. my mom doesn't know and i don't wanna worry her." you take a sharp breath, voice getting lower, "my landlady threw me out before i found the ddakji guy."

his face softens with every sentence, an expression close to pity taking over. you hate pity, so you shut it down with a glare.

"don't give me that look," you sigh with exhaustion, running a hand down your face.

"i'm sorry to hear that," he says quietly, avoiding your eyes. he blinks a few times, adjusts his glasses. he doesn't know what else to say, and he's almost glad for the interruption when the staff walks in and announces the results of the first game.

it's so sudden how people begin to beg for their lives— kneeling before the guards, pleading to be spared. it makes you feel sorry and disgusted at the same time— you can understand why they'd do so, but you can't imagine kneeling before an organisation like this in any way. you value your dignity.

when the gunshot rings out to silence the begging crowd, the guard announces the second clause of the contract: a player who refuses to play will be terminated.

your head snaps up at the sound of sangwoo's confident voice.

"clause three of the consent form—" he steps forward, "the games may be terminated upon a majority vote."

the guard nods, "that is correct."

"then," he looks around, and his eyes fall on you. he looks away, and cocks his head to the side, "let us take a vote."

you almost feel that sense of admiration for him once again— he was always smart, that you can admit. more attentive than others, better at remembering little details. he's stepping forward to directly challenge these guards while people are begging for their lives. he's brave, like he's always been.

you fall in line beside him, and he looks down at you. you give him a slight nod, before your attention is diverted to the next announcement. the staff then show the money accumulated by the deaths of the previous player— 100 million won for each. as the massive piggy bank hanging from the ceiling glows, you can feel him stiffen at the mere sight of the money.

and the voting starts. your number comes soon enough— player 420.

you don't hesitate.

this money is not more important than your life. you need to consider all your options— you're not confident that you would make it till the end. and you don't want to fucking die yet.

you press the cross, and fall into the crowd.

sangwoo's number comes a while after— and you watch him like a hawk. you know he's a smart guy who knows better than to put himself in a compromising situation. you hope he'll help you go home.

until he presses the 'O.'

you feel utterly betrayed once again and he goes to his side of the crowd, not looking at you even once. you scoff to yourself, baffled by his audacity, before redirecting your focus to the voting counter. you start hoping your side wins purely out of spite.

player 001 presses X. your side erupts into cheers and you let out a breath of relief, glancing at sangwoo who stands frozen with his head lowered.

you don't remember much after.

the car ride feels suffocating— everything is dark. there's shuffling before you feel yourself being shoved, and you let out a yelp as your bare skin hits the gravel. "ouch— fuck!"

you hear your name— and recognise the voice.

"mister sangwoo?" you gasp, and hear a pained 'yes'. you can feel a cloth wrapped around your eyes, and your hands and legs are tied. you groan, shifting and writhing on the ground, impatiently trying to free yourself. you feel teeth on the front of your wrists before your hands are released.

you sit up quickly and snatch the cloth off your eyes. you turn to sangwoo then, and quickly untie his wrists. he grunts before sitting up, and the two of you untie your legs.

"shit, it's cold—" you hiss, quickly standing up. those bastards had only left you in a plain white sports bra and underwear. he was naked as well save for a pair of white boxers. the sight makes your skin feel hot, and you take a greedy but discreet glance at his chest before rushing towards your jeans and hoodie that are tossed to the side of the road, quickly getting dressed.

you clear your throat and turn around, only to see him quickly looking away from you, his clothes still in his hands. your eyes narrow knowingly and he wordlessly gets dressed, buttoning up his white shirt.

"are we still in seoul?" you ask, and he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses before looking up towards the buildings. he nods, and you shiver slightly.

he turns to you and hesitates before moving forward to put his grey blazer over you. you raise your eyebrows in question, and he doesn't respond before checking his pockets.

"are you hungry?" he asks, and almost comically in that same moment your stomach growls. he holds back a smile, and you wrap his blazer tighter around yourself.

you rest your head against the table while you wait. you can feel it pounding, but the smell of hot ramen tempts you to raise it. he takes a seat beside you and places the steaming bowl in front of you.

"do you have the money for this?" you cant help but ask.

"dont worry about it," he says with a wave of his hand, bringing out his chopsticks to eat. you decide to leave the job of worrying to him and get to eating.

you're a rather slow eater, and he doesn't complain. he steps out of the store, and you can see his back as he takes out a cigarette. you slurp up the rest of your food and follow him out.

"i don't feel that cold anymore," you hand him his blazer, and he turns to look at you. you're thankful about your self control, because he is a sight. so devilishly handsome even after witnessing such horrors— his cigarette teasingly hanging off his lips, the smoke wafting up and making his eyes squint just a little. his glasses make him look so much more sophisticated, or perhaps you have a thing for nerdy looking men. you're not a smoker, but he makes it look so good. if you were a weaker woman, you would've gasped. no wonder half of your childhood went by with that barely disguised crush on him— no wonder no guy your age back in college seemed good enough.

you clear your throat, bring yourself back to earth and continue. "you can have it. thank you."

he takes the blazer with a nod and puts it on. takes another puff of the cigarette, and watches you look around.

"i thought you'd come back with an american wife." you almost cringe at your own words. but conversation is conversation, you don't know how else to start. it's a discreet way to find out his relationship status, if any.

"marriage is the last thing on my mind." he responds quietly, taking a puff. you look at the side of his face, and his eyes stare at the road in front of him— thoughtful. you wonder what he's thinking about.

"where will you go?" he asks without looking at you.

you shrug, "i don't know."

"do you have any money?"

you pause, suddenly feeling a sense of dread. you have no money, and what little you got from the ddakji guy, you spent on your rent. which got you thrown out anyway.

your silence speaks volumes. he tosses the cigarette to the floor and stomps on it. you sigh.

"i don't have any money."

"come with me," he looks at you, gaze intense and serious. "i have enough for the both of us. atleast for a few days till we can figure things out."

"why?" you cross your arms over your chest almost defensively, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

he grits his teeth as he glares at you, mouth twitching. he looks away then, tonguing the inside of his cheek before returning your gaze. "you have nowhere else to go. it wouldn't be responsible to leave you alone like this."

you almost scoff— the words on the tip of your tongue. but you were okay with leaving me alone back then? but you don't say it, not yet, because you could use his financial help right now. you sigh, before nodding, and gesturing forward.

"fine, lead the way."

the motel he takes you to looks respectable enough. you look around, eyeing the plain decor. the man behind the counter looks at the two of you, and then gives sangwoo a toothy grin, which immediately alerts you.

"only one room available."

sangwoo doesn't protest. he doesn't have the finances to get two separate rooms either. he opens the room and you go in first, looking around. there's a single bed and some flashy lights, and it makes you roll your eyes. you turn around to settle him with a pointed look.

"it's better than i thought," he grunts, taking his blazer off as he takes in the scene. he steps forward and drags a finger down the side table, examines the dust it leaves on his skin with mild disgust.

you bite your lower lip as you watch him— his shirt stretching across his chest, his hair falling messily across his forehead. his glasses resting delicately on the bridge of his nose.

fucking nerd.

his gaze snaps up to you and that's when you realize you'd said that out loud. you wince, looking away and he straightens up, blinking innocently.

"you're still upset with me."

you cross your arms over your chest as you sit on the bed. you quirk an eyebrow, and he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you from a respectable distance.

you decide to play dumb.

"about what?"

he's not amused. he stares at you, expression serious and intense, "i didn't plan to stand you up that day."

so we're going straight to it, you think.

"then why did you?" you snap, unable to hold back the hurt from your voice, "i waited for an hour. you never came. i wanted to talk to you."

"i know." he nods. he walks up to you then, stands at the foot of the bed. "i know what you wanted to talk to me about. i was scared."

you freeze, looking at him cautiously, your heartbeat rising. "scared?"

"i knew you had feelings for me." he sighs, sitting down beside you. his voice is hushed, making the moment feel more intimate than you'd like. "i could tell that's what you wanted to talk to me about. it terrified me."

your breath feels like it's knocked out of your lungs. you swallow the lump in your throat, holding back the tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. "did anyone ever tell you that you're an asshole?"

he grunts, takes out another cigarette. he lights it up and takes a long drag— taking his time to respond.

"many people," he says, blowing some smoke through his nostrils. the sight almost makes your mouth water, but you ignore it.

"you're a dick," you shoot back dryly.

"what i am—" he points his cigarette at you, "— is too old for you. surely you didn't think it was a good idea?"

"you could've rejected me instead," you chuckle bitterly, "but you decided to leave me there to look stupid."

"you were too young." his voice is low, and his response almost makes you want to strangle him. he dusts some ash off his cigarette, adjusts his glasses, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your skin feel hot. "i couldn't keep you happy even if i wanted to."

you frown, gritting your teeth. he looks away.

"you looked at me like i hung the moon and the stars." he continues, looking ahead at the wall, gaze distant. "i couldn't maintain those expectations. we were in two completely different stages. you were meant to go to college, study well, get a good job, a boy your age—"

"stop talking like you're my father," you snap before he can finish, standing up. there's heat behind your glare and you almost laugh at his expression, "i had no expectations from you. so stop with your- your little— excuses. what's done is done, right? you've stood me up once, no need to reject me by wording it smartly. i don't wanna be with you anymore anyway."

that was a lie. you just hoped he couldn't see through your act. you're riled up because you're still affected by him, and his polite behaviour is driving you insane— you want to tear away at his walls, expose the passion he hides behind his smart guy facade. you know it because you've seen it in the way his eyes light up when he talks about his ambitions— how willing he is to cross any line to achieve what he wants. you want to butcher his self control and unleash the animal underneath, the one he's so desperate to hide. it's what made you fall for him in the first place.

he merely looks at you boredly, taking another drag of his cigarette. you snatch it off him, bring it to your own lips. he looks at you with mild shock as you take a drag, and you blow the smoke out on his face.

it all goes smoothly until you cough, and he's snatching the cigarette away again, watching you almost amusedly.

"you can't even handle a cigarette," he remarks dryly, putting it out on the bedframe. and that one line finally ticks you off. almost as if on instinct, your hand pulls back and delivers a sharp slap to his face— making it turn to the side. he snorts, adjusts his glasses again before he looks at you, unimpressed.

"you've been waiting to do that, haven't you?" he asks. your nostrils flare with anger. you can't hurt him physically— but your tongue is sharp. you'll use it.

"you're one to talk about different stages in life," you add, leaning towards him. a smirk curls upon your face, "look at you. all that ambition and experience only to end up scamming people."

out of the need to provoke him, your hand shoots out, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"how would your mother feel if she found out?"

it's a low blow, and you would be ashamed if it hadn't worked. it does its work to finally get to him. he grabs your wrist, and harshly pulls you down towards him, knocking your breath out. he shoves you on the bed and hovers over you, panting slightly. you chuckle.

"my life is hard enough," he hisses sharply, body trembling with concealed rage. his gaze drifts down to your lips before settling upon your eyes again. "do you really want to keep testing me?"

you can't help but smile smugly as you stare at him. there he is— almost on the verge of losing his composure. a few more quips and you're sure he'll crumble. it makes your skin feel tingly. your face leans up slightly, your hungry gaze drifting down to his lips. your hand reaches up, pries his glasses off his face. and then you flick his nose.

"fuck you."

the way his mouth comes crashing onto yours is animalistic. he desperately kisses you with the passion of a madman— his tongue entering your mouth and messily colliding with your own. as if to tease him, you bite his bottom lip sharply and he pulls back, eyes widening as a small trickle of blood falls down the corner of his mouth. his hand pulls back and strikes you across the face, and you can't help but laugh. your cheek stings and feels like it's burning— and you're addicted. you hope he'll do it again. you look back at him with an almost crazed look in your eyes, and you can see it finally dawn upon him that he's finally giving you exactly what you wanted.

"you're enjoying this too much, you little minx—" he hisses, grabbing your neck and kissing you again. your hands immediately reach up to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as you try to keep up with his pace. he pulls away and tosses his shirt to the side, and you take that opportunity to use all your strength to flip the two of you around so he's the one on his back. it makes him gasp, and you look down at him with darkened eyes— a finger teasingly running down his chest, making him let out a shudder.

he's the object of all your desires for as long as you've ever known. the man of your dreams, the man that you kept comparing every single one of your college boys to. no wonder they never seemed good enough. how could they? they were no match for this beautiful man laying under you.

with a newfound vigour your head drops to his neck, licking and kissing every inch of his skin. your hungry mouth trails down his chest, breathing in the smell of him, leaving greedy bites in its wake. the sounds your actions evoke out of him are downright pornographic— soft, breathless groans that make you want to consume him entirely. his hand comes down to your head, holding you in place as you worship his body— and you moan when his fingers dig into your scalp.

your lips leave a wet trail and cherry red bites down his torso, until you reach the waistband of his pants. teasingly, you mouth at his bulge, making him hiss in return. his hips buck up slightly and you place a soft kiss to the material before leaning up to his face. his hands wrap around your waist and he flips the two of you over again, desperately tearing away at your clothes.

"i shouldn't be doing this," he mutters under his breath, talking more so to himself than you. you raise your hips and he pulls your jeans down, a throaty groan escaping him at the sight of your panties. they're almost transparent from how wet you are. he frees himself from the confines of his underwear and you watch with fascination as he holds you down with a hand on your stomach. you're panting when he's pushing them to the side and entering you immediately— making you scream from the stretch.

he clenches his jaw, squeezes his eyes shut as he buries himself to the hilt with a grunt. you choke on a pained sob, your fingers digging into his back as he grabs the side of your face.

"it hurts—" you hiss through gritted teeth, a tear running down your cheek. it burns, and he waits a second before wordlessly pulling back and thrusting again. the pain morphs into pleasure soon enough, and you whine as he falls into an easy rhythm, wrapping your legs around his waist. you whine in return, and he gives your cheek a light slap, prompting you to open your eyes. your breath hitches as he looks at you intensely— his own eyes glassy.

"not that young now am i?" you grit out with a glare, crying out as he retaliates with a harsh, pointed thrust. "y-you're my first—"

"fuck," he moans, his head dropping down to your chest. his thrusts get quicker, voice raspy and low, "don't— don't say that—"

"i always wanted you to take my virginity," you moan, throwing your head back, dragging your nails down his back. it makes him hiss, "ever since i was a—"

he slams his hand on your mouth, refusing to allow you to finish your sentence. "shut the fuck up."

he doesn't want to be reminded of the age difference between you two, even though you can tell it gets him hot. the moment his hand clasps over your mouth, you cum with a loud moan. your body trembles but he keeps going— not allowing you a moment to breathe. his eyes are full of rage as he bares his teeth in anger. you chuckle breathlessly against his hand, your eyes fluttering. he looks like an angry cat— you want to kiss him all over his face. his thrusts eventually get sloppy— he's close.

you lock your legs tightly around his waist, and he smacks you again. it surprises you this time, and he takes that opportunity to pull out, jerking himself off quickly.

"i can't afford taking risks," he grunts, clenching his jaw. you whine in response, pouting slightly, and he gives you an exasperated glare before he's cumming all over your stomach with a shaky groan.

you pant heavily as you come down from your high, and almost as if on fire— he quickly dresses himself. he pulls out a handkerchief from his blazer pocket, gently wipes off the fluids on your stomach. he just watches you on the bed— his eyes examining his handiwork. you notice his gaze lingers on your cheek. after a few minutes, he wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. you roll your eyes as you pull up your jeans too. a few moments pass, and you breathe a puff of air through your nostrils.

"are we going to talk about this?" you call out. there's no answer. you get up and rush to the bathroom door, except he's locked it. you can hear light splashing of water. you scoff in disbelief, going back to the bed. you lay on your side and grab a pillow, your lips wobbling as you go over everything that happened.

this was not how it was supposed to go. he was not supposed to seem this detached. you'd expected atleast a cuddle after sex.

you don't realize when you fall asleep. it's morning when you wake up— sunlight streaming in through the window and directly onto your face, making you wince. you stretch, look over your shoulder.

sangwoo isn't there.

you immediately go to the bathroom. it's empty, though the tub is full. you frown in confusion before turning back to the bed. there, a note on the side table has you stopping.

'i'm sorry,' it said, in his handwriting. placed along with it were a few won bills.

you sniffle as you stare at the note— the writing on it almost mocking you. you crumple it up, your fist shaking as you resist the urge to cry. suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and it makes your entire body stiffen.

a card slides from the little space under the door. the same one you remember the ddakji guy giving you. the shapes on it just look sinister now. the number on it is different this time.

your breathing gets heavy as you stare at it— your head beginning to hurt. you're sure you can hear your ears ringing.

you're alone. you wonder if leaving in the first place was a mistake. your feelings are conflicted— and worst of all, you feel used and betrayed. you're not sure if you should go back to the games. you're not sure if you could survive without any money.

sangwoo had left. you don't know where he is and you have nowhere else to go. no home, and you don't know how you would face your mother. you don't know how long the money he left you could go on.

you don't want to die. but you can't keep living like this either. you bite your bottom lip as you contemplate your options, the hurt from sangwoo's departure still lingering in your chest like a stab wound.

you pick up the card and place the call.

tags: @movienerd3000 @testdrivethv @leebyunghunswifey @nerdybarbariancupcake @neganhore @k1ra-park3r @vivdolls @wab-i @stantwicr @creativerambling @yasmim-1007 @makethemgirlsgoloco @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @captaincarmel416 @warlabels @ferrarifinnick @smlbch @izzyyann @meheheasasa @poooopy @endlessfl4mes @selfishlittlebeing @pillowtalk6 @antiromanticbaby @sky-forts-and-burning-citadels @flow33didontsmoke

[heliosunny]

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Dan Feng x Reader

You stood before the Lucky Egg Dispenser. One pull. One egg. People swore by it, miraculous companions, rare creatures with mystical abilities. Some even whispered about something more. You hadn’t believed it. Not until you got one.

At first, it was just an egg, smooth, cool to the touch, its deep azure surface streaked with faint golden veins. For three days, it sat in your apartment, resting on a pillow beneath the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

Then, it hatched.

And the first thing you saw were cyan eyes, glowing like captured starlight. Most people received small, harmless creatures: foxlike beings, glowing fish, even tiny floating wisps of light. Instead, curled amidst the shattered remnants of the shell, was a man.

His long, dark hair cascaded down his back in flowing silken strands. His pale jade antler-like horns gleamed under the soft light, an ethereal contrast to his sharp, almost inhuman pointed ears. His robes, a pristine blend of white, silver, and intricate teal embroidery, draped over his lean yet powerful frame, giving him an air of royalty, as if he had stepped out of some long-forgotten legend. A single red earring dangled from his right ear, swaying gently.

But what held you frozen were his cyan eyes, sharp and penetrating, gleaming with something unreadable. Something ancient. Something dangerous.

He moved towards you. His grip was gentle yet unyielding as his hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze fully.

"You are the first thing I have seen." he murmured.

His thumb brushed over your lips. "That means you are mine."

Finally, you got him to sit. You sat opposite him, keeping a cautious distance. The man studied his surroundings with the quiet grace of someone who had seen worlds beyond this one.

"You may call me Dan Feng" he said smoothly, his voice carrying an old-world elegance.

You hesitated before responding with your own name, unsure of what to make of him.

"Do you... have hobbies? Things you enjoy?" you asked, attempting to keep the conversation light.

Dan Feng tilted his head slightly, contemplating the question. "Reading ancient texts. Chess. Refining my abilities. Battle."

That last word made you tense slightly.

Before you could respond, you got up to fetch him a drink, only to trip over your own feet.

Time seemed to slow. A surge of energy crackled through the air, and before you could hit the ground, you found yourself suspended midair, a soft glowing force wrapped around you.

Dan Feng hadn’t moved an inch. Yet, his magic had caught you effortlessly.

"You have magic?" you asked in awe, as he gently set you upright.

His lips curled into an amused smile. "Of course. Did you expect otherwise?"

The moment left you shaken but also intrigued. You had to know the extent of his abilities. So you took him to a weapon shop.

In this world, people trained to farm levels and increase their stats through dungeons. Power meant survival, and you needed to understand exactly what he was capable of. Dan Feng examined the weapons with idle curiosity before selecting a blade—a long, ornate spear. The moment he lifted it, the air around you shifted. With a single, precise swing, the spear cleaved the reinforced training dummy clean in half.

The shopkeeper gaped. You swallowed hard.

Dan Feng lowered the weapon, looking wholly unimpressed by his own strength. As if it was trivial.

He turned to you, eyes glowing softly. "Satisfied? I can use pretty much any weapon in this place."

You weren’t sure whether to be impressed or terrified.

From the moment he hatched, he never left your side. At first, you assumed it was natural. A newly born creature clinging to its first bond. But this was no ordinary attachment. He was always there.

A silent, watchful presence in your home. In your dreams. When you awoke, he was there, seated gracefully by your bedside, watching with an unreadable gaze. When you left for work, his figure lingered just outside, eyes never straying from you.

Your phone? Constantly buzzing. Unread messages. Missed calls.

Dan Feng. Dan Feng. Dan Feng.

You started locking your doors.

They always unlocked themselves.

One night, you tried sneaking out, he found you before you reached the next street.

"Why do you run?"

His voice was calm, almost amused. Yet the air around him grew heavy, pressing against your lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, his robes barely stirring.

"You called me into existence" he murmured, lifting your chin once more. "You do not abandon what you have created."

The next day, you searched for someone skilled enough to play chess with him. A strategic game like that might hold his attention. As he sat, moving his pieces with unnerving precision, you stood behind him, studying his every move, intrigued by his intelligence. His plays were ruthless, methodical. He was brilliant.

When you turned to leave after his next match, you felt his fingers encircle your wrist again. You swore he had been fully focused on the board.

“Where are you going?” he asked smoothly.

You forced a smile. “Just getting you something to drink.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before releasing you.

You returned not just with food and drink, but with a friend you had met at the dungeon.

Dan Feng finished his match earlier than expected.

Before you could react, he was by your side, his hand resting lightly on your back as he steered you away from the others. “It’s late” he murmured. “I will lead you home.”

The next morning, you noticed something was off. Dan Feng's usual poised demeanor was replaced with a subtle lethargy, his forehead warm to the touch. A fever?

You immediately took it upon yourself to care for him, dampening a cloth to press against his forehead and making him herbal tea. Though he allowed your ministrations, there was an unreadable expression in his eyes, as if he were watching you, studying you, but unwilling to say something. His breathing grew steadier under your care, but exhaustion eventually took its toll on you. As night fell, you drifted into sleep beside him.

By the time you awoke, he was gone.

Panic surged through you. The idea of someone taking advantage of him or worse, attempting to capture and sell him due to his rare nature propelled you into action. You traced his presence back to a nearby dungeon, where an eerie sight awaited you.

The creatures inside weren’t attacking him. They were bowing. Dan Feng stood among them, his form partially transformed. His antlers glowed brightly, his once-hidden dragon-like tail illuminated by an ethereal light. Power radiated from him in waves, his presence commanding absolute authority. Whatever he was doing, it was deliberate—perhaps an attempt to regulate his strength, to return to his usual form without alarming you.

You confronted him, your voice sharp with concern. “What are you doing?”

He turned to you, unbothered by your presence. “Releasing excess energy. I did not wish to frighten you.”

His nonchalance infuriated you. “You disappeared without a word. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

Something flickered in his gaze, amusement, perhaps. Then, to your utter disbelief, he chuckled.

“You followed me,” he mused, stepping closer. “Because you were worried.”

You clenched your fists. “Of course, I was! You were feverish, and then you vanished!”

Instead of acknowledging your frustration, he merely brushed his fingers against your cheek, the heat of his touch lingering. “How endearing,” he murmured. “But unnecessary.”

You glared at him, unamused. “You don’t get to decide that.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, then let out a low, indulgent sigh. “Very well” he said, as if entertaining a fleeting whim. “Next time, I shall wake you.”

You were relieved when Dan Feng eventually returned to his normal form, but curiosity still lingered in your mind. While he was cooking, or at least attempting to, since you had been teaching him—you found yourself watching him closely. His movements were precise, yet slightly hesitant, as if he were still adjusting to the task. The soft glow of the kitchen lanterns reflected in his eyes, making him appear even more ethereal than usual.

Acting on impulse, you suddenly reached out and touched his antler-like horns. The texture was smoother than you expected, but before you could fully process the sensation, his entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. His hands fumbled with the kitchen knife, and a sharp inhale escaped his lips.

“Ah—!” His voice was higher than usual, laced with genuine surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. His ears twitched violently, and his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. He turned sharply, swatting your hand away as his tail flicked behind him with a barely contained shudder.

You blinked, taken aback by the uncharacteristic reaction. "I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you," you quickly stammered, raising both hands in surrender. "I won’t do that again."

Danfeng cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. His eyes remained averted, but the pink dusting his face lingered stubbornly. "Good." His tone was firm, but the way he slightly shifted away from you spoke volumes.

Deciding not to push further, you allowed the moment to pass, though the curiosity still gnawed at you. On a more positive note, Dan Feng had started gaining friends through chess matches, and you were relieved to see him socializing beyond just clinging to you. Still, something about his past lingered in your thoughts, the way he had spoken about ‘battles’ when you first met.

Your suspicions solidified when you both realized you were running low on points for trading. A dungeon run was the most efficient way to replenish them, so you ventured inside together. That was when you finally understood the depth of his strength. The dungeon was teeming with creatures—some of them towering behemoths with godlike power, but none of them stood a chance.

Dan Feng didn’t just defeat them—he annihilated them with terrifying precision. His water magic twisted into elegant but deadly formations, cutting through enemies with almost artistic grace. Massive hydra-like beings fell within seconds, their roars of defiance silenced as waves crushed them into the ground. The air became thick with mist, swirling around him like a deity descending upon a battlefield.

Watching him fight was both mesmerizing and unsettling. His expression never wavered, calm, composed, and yet, there was something disturbingly natural about the way he wielded destruction. It was then you realized Dan Feng wasn't just powerful. He was something beyond that.

As the dungeon’s final enemy fell, the air shimmered, and a chest materialized before you. It was rare to see such a reward, so both you and Dan Feng approached with caution. You hesitated for a moment before lifting the lid together. Inside, nestled within the chest’s velvet-lined interior, were two items: a gleaming sword and an ornate ring.

You both examined the sword first. It was well-crafted, its blade humming faintly with residual energy, but neither of you used swords. After a brief discussion, you decided to sell it to the weapon merchant upon returning to town. However, when you reached for the ring, Danfeng’s hand moved faster, snatching it up before you could inspect it properly.

“I’ll keep this” he stated firmly, slipping it into his sleeve before you could protest.

You let it go for the moment, though curiosity gnawed at you. Dan Feng was not one to act so possessively over mere trinkets, and yet there was a glint in his eyes that you had never seen before.

Later that evening, while he busied himself with something in the kitchen, you caught sight of him turning the ring over in his hands, his thumb brushing over the intricate engravings with something close to reverence. When he noticed your gaze, he merely smirked and pocketed it once more, offering no explanation.

It wasn’t until much later, when the ring’s magic revealed itself—that you understood exactly why he had insisted on keeping it. When you woke up one morning, your wrist felt oddly warm, a faint golden glow emanating from it. You gasped as you realized a faint, ethereal chain connected you to Danfeng, who stood at the doorway watching you with an unreadable expression.

“You belong to me now” he murmured, his voice calm but firm. “This ring binds us together. No more sneaking away, no more hiding.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest as you stared at him, realization dawning. The ring wasn’t just a trinket, it was a claim. And you had unknowingly let him seal your fate.

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.4

Chapter Four: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Bullying, Physicological Bullying, Mean Girls,

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Heads up, there’s a bully in this chapter but dw, you got Pedro on your side hehe. Again, this is all fictional. To any Cecilia’s out there in irl, no hate to you girl, I don’t even know you LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: gold rush by Taylor Swift

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PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING  

The hum of set life surrounded you like a familiar melody—the rhythmic chatter of crew members, the distant clatter of equipment being adjusted, the occasional burst of laughter from someone off-camera. You moved through it all with ease, exchanging quick words with a fellow PA as you double-checked the last-minute details before call time.  

You didn’t notice him watching you.  

Pedro sat in the makeup chair, already in costume, his eyes drifting away from the mirror as Coco worked her hands through his hair. His body was still, but his mind was somewhere else. Or rather—on someone else.  

It was the way you tilted your head as someone from production rattled off instructions, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, nodding once before offering a soft, assured smile. You weren’t just hearing what they were saying—you were listening, absorbing every detail like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged.  

He felt something tighten in his chest.  

God, you made him feel strange.  

It was the words that stuck in his throat when you were near, the way his pulse stuttered for no damn reason. The way his thoughts—usually so steady, so controlled—felt unruly around you. It was dizzying. Unsettling.  

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. Since he’d been caught so completely off guard by someone.  

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for you.  

In the crowd. In the moments between takes. In the quiet spaces where he thought maybe—just maybe—you were looking for him, too.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

Lunch break rolled around, bringing a much-needed lull in the day’s chaos. The crew scattered—some retreating to their trailers, others grabbing quick bites from catering, the energy shifting into something looser, more relaxed.  

Your phone buzzed just as you were sitting down at one of the outdoor tables, the screen lighting up with a message.  

Pedro: Wanna grab a bite later?  

You smiled to yourself, thumbs already moving across the screen.  

You: I do, but I kinda wanna hang with my friends for a bit too.  

His response came almost immediately.  

Pedro: Oh yeah, of course. Mind if I tag along?

You hesitated for half a second. Not because you didn’t want him there—but because you weren’t sure if he really wanted to be there.  

You: Are you sure? 

Pedro: Obviously.  

So that’s how Pedro Pascal ended up at lunch with you and your friends, settling into the group like he had always belonged there.  

He was easy to talk to, of course. He charmed his way through introductions, seamlessly jumping into conversations, laughing in all the right places, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. But his attention always had a way of drifting back to you.  

The way you scrunched your nose as you tried to pick apart a joke someone had made. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about some old inside story with your friends. The way you were currently demolishing a cookie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.  

Pedro noticed.  

He didn’t say anything, but he noticed.  

His lips twitched as you took another enthusiastic bite, completely unaware of his amusement.  

There were other things, too—subtle things. The brush of his knee against yours under the table, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The way his fingers would graze your wrist when he leaned in to say something, as if testing the waters. The way his eyes would flick to your lips when you spoke before quickly darting away, as if he hadn’t meant to.  

And then, of course, there was the teasing.  

"Did you even taste that cookie, or did you just inhale it?" Pedro mused, finally breaking his silence, amusement lacing his voice.  

You swallowed the last bite, leveling him with a mock glare. "It’s really good."  

He smirked. "Clearly."  

"Don’t judge me."  

"Never." The word came softer than expected, a little too sincere for just teasing. His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

Your heart stuttered.  

He looked away first, but not before you caught the slightest hint of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. It was such a small thing—barely there, really—but you noticed. And it made something warm unfurl in your chest.  

The conversation around the table carried on, your friends swapping stories and teasing each other between bites of food. Pedro chimed in here and there, laughing along, but every now and then, you felt his gaze flick back to you.  

You were hyper-aware of him now. The way his arm rested casually on the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth. The way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the table, his other hand occasionally brushing against yours as he reached for his drink.  

Then, he sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, frowning slightly at the screen.  

"Ugh, my phone’s about to die."  

Without hesitation, you reached into your bag, pulling out your power bank and a charging cord. "Oh, no worries, here—use this."  

Pedro blinked, momentarily caught off guard.  

You handed it over without a second thought, already turning back to your food. But he didn’t move to plug his phone in right away. Instead, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression.  

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the charger, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.  

“You just carry this around with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, something softer beneath the teasing edge.  

You shrugged, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “Yeah, of course. Never know when you might need it.”  

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything right away.  

Instead, he plugged in his phone, then glanced back at you, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe you.  

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.  

Pedro exhaled a small laugh, tucking the power bank into his lap like it was something precious. "Nothing. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, "—thoughtful."  

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.  

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "It’s just a charger, Pedro."  

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching you. "I know."  

But his expression said something else entirely.

You weren’t sure what to do with that look—the quiet weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to be memorizing you like you were something worth studying. So, instead of dwelling on it, you reached into your bag and pulled out your notepad and pen.

Doodling had always been second nature to you. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered. While your friends continued chatting, their voices washing over you in waves, you let your pen glide over the paper in absentminded strokes.

Pedro, however, wasn’t nearly as distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he watched, his attention flicking between you and the small spirals and shapes forming beneath your fingers. It was mesmerizing in a way he didn’t expect. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when you concentrated. The way your pen tapped softly against the pad before committing to a new line.

He shifted in his seat, subtly angling himself so he could get a better look.

It wasn’t just mindless scribbles.

You were sketching. Really sketching.

A rough outline of the restaurant table, the glasses, the crumpled napkins. And just beside that, the faint beginnings of a face—strong jaw, slightly furrowed brows, lips curved at the edges as if they were on the verge of a smirk.

His lips.

Pedro’s throat tightened.

"That me?" he asked, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear.

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and you glanced up at him, caught. He wasn’t teasing, not really. If anything, there was something almost—fond—about the way he was looking at you.

You shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Maybe."

Pedro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t know you could draw."

"It’s just something I do when I’m listening," you admitted, flipping the page like it was nothing.

But he didn’t think it was nothing.

He wanted to say something else, something lighthearted to keep you from looking so shy about it, but before he could, one of your friends called your name, pulling your attention away.

Pedro exhaled, leaning back in his seat, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Thoughtful. Talented.

Yeah. He was absolutely in trouble.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The shift in the air was subtle at first, almost imperceptible.

But you felt it.

It was the way certain conversations would quiet just as you approached. The way people who had once been warm and welcoming now exchanged knowing glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The way whispers followed in your wake, hushed giggles that felt anything but good-natured.

And at the center of it all was Cecilia.

She was the kind of woman people noticed when she walked into a room—stunning, sharp-witted, and utterly ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted.

And for whatever reason, she had decided that you were a problem.

At first, it was small things. A pointed look. A lingering smirk. A brush of her shoulder against yours as she passed by.

But then, it escalated.

"Did you hear?" one of her friends whispered just loud enough as you walked by. "She totally forced her way onto this project. Some kind of nepotism thing, I bet."

"Ugh, so cringe," another voice giggled. "She acts all sweet, but like, we know the truth."

You gritted your teeth, kept your head down, and moved along.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was. Psychological warfare disguised as petty gossip. You’d seen it before, and you'd see it again.

The worst part?

You refused to let it get to you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Pedro noticed.

It started with the way you brushed things off too quickly, like you were trying not to care. The way your usual smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh—one of his new favorite sounds—had dulled just a fraction, too forced, too polite.

And Pedro wasn’t an idiot.

He saw the way Cecilia and her group slinked around set like vipers, the way their eyes always seemed to flick toward you before whispering behind manicured hands.

It pissed him off.

But when he asked about it, you just waved it away.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, reaching for a prop clipboard. “Just tired. Long day.”

Pedro arched a brow. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He studied you for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

That made you scoff. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So, you’re totally cool with the whole… weird vibe around here lately?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

“Pedro,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they think, okay? It’s just… you know how some people are. They get bored.”

“They get mean,” he corrected.

You frowned, looking away.

He softened, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the clipboard.

“It doesn’t suck,” you insisted. “Because I don’t care.”

Pedro’s stare was unwavering, but you held your ground.

Because if you admitted it did hurt—if you let yourself feel it—you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

And you weren’t going to let them win.

Pedro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. You don’t care," he murmured. "But if you ever do care… you’ll tell me, right?"

Something in your chest tightened at that.

You forced a small, teasing smile. “Wow, Pedro. That almost sounded like a serious conversation.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

And just like that, the tension cracked, relief flickering behind his gaze.

For now, he’d let you pretend you were fine.

But he’d also be watching.

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEEKEND…

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The next two days were a slow, grating kind of miserable.

It started with small things—so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you might have convinced yourself they were nothing. The way conversations would quiet just as you walked past, the barely-concealed laughter from across the room, the occasional, suspiciously misplaced item that had definitely been right where you left it.

It was the kind of thing that chipped away at you in small, insidious ways.

Like the way Cecilia and her friends would conveniently stand right where you needed to go, their backs turned but their voices just loud enough.

“I swear, some people just don’t belong here.”

You’d walk past without reacting, even as the words burrowed under your skin.

Or the way your neatly organized stack of call sheets had been mysteriously scattered all over the breakroom counter when you came back from a coffee run. No one claimed responsibility, but Cecilia had walked by, tossing you a slow, syrupy-sweet, “Oops, was that important?” before sauntering off.

You clenched your jaw. Breathed through it.

Not worth it.

But then there were the more deliberate moments.

Like the wardrobe rack incident.

You had been helping move costumes between trailers when Cecilia and one of her friends conveniently brushed past, sending a precariously hung dress tumbling to the ground.

“Oh no,” Cecilia pouted, pressing a hand to her chest with mock concern. “You should really be more careful.”

You bent to pick it up, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The last thing you needed was to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you smoothed out the fabric and rehung it.

Then, there was lunch.

You had been balancing a plate of food in one hand, your phone in the other, when one of Cecilia’s friends accidentally knocked your elbow in passing.

It was a tiny movement. Just enough to send your fork clattering to the floor, just enough to make you hesitate—because was it intentional? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Careful,” the girl sing-songed over her shoulder, giggling as she caught up with Cecilia.

You let out a slow breath. Swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Not worth it.

So you kept your head up, kept moving, kept going. You told yourself that if you didn’t acknowledge it, if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it couldn’t touch you.

Right?

But it did.

Because by the time you got back to your trailer that night, you had to sit on the edge of your bed and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, breathing slow, measured breaths to keep yourself from crying.

Because it was working.

Because no matter how much you told yourself you were fine, no matter how much you smiled and laughed and acted unbothered, the cracks were starting to show.

You barely had a moment to yourself.  

Between running last-minute errands for production, keeping up with the crew’s rapid-fire instructions, and dodging the subtle but constant hostility radiating from Cecilia and her group, you were stretched thin.  

The exhaustion was creeping in—settling in the space between your ribs, behind your eyes, in the way your shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual.  

But you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  

So you pushed through, past the carefully calculated inconveniences. The way they always seemed to cut in front of you when you were in a hurry, the stolen side-eyes and smirks exchanged whenever you spoke in a group, the way your things somehow always ended up in different places than you’d left them.  

You pretended not to notice when Cecilia’s voice turned just a little too loud whenever she spoke to someone near you.  

"Oh my god, you know what I hate? When people think just anyone can belong in this industry. Like… babe, you’re only here because they needed extra hands. It’s cute, though."  

You told yourself not to react.  

Even when Daisy—who had been standing beside you, her grip tightening on her clipboard—made a noise that sounded a lot like she was about to launch herself across the room.  

“It’s whatever,” you had muttered, tugging her back before she could make a scene.  

Daisy had narrowed her eyes. “It’s not whatever. She’s being a bitch.”  

You had only sighed. “I know.”  

Omar wasn’t as easily convinced.  

The next morning, when you found him loitering near Cecilia’s usual coffee spot, arms crossed and expression unreadable, you had to physically drag him away before he did something stupid.  

“Do not get yourself in trouble over this.”  

“She’s messing with you,” he seethed. “I hate people like her.”  

“She’s not worth it,” you said, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded too thin, too tight.  

Omar wasn’t buying it. “Okay, but are you okay?”  

You hesitated. The truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.  

The worst part wasn’t the pettiness or the whispered insults—it was the fact that it was working. That somehow, in all the noise and nonsense, they had managed to make you feel small.  

But admitting that felt too much like defeat.  

So you forced a smile. “I’m fine.”  

Omar gave you a long, knowing look before muttering something under his breath and stalking off.  

That afternoon, as you sat on a bench outside the studio, your notebook balanced on your lap, you felt a shadow fall over you.  

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice was soft.  

You glanced up, startled. “Oh. Hey.”  

His brows knit together. “You okay?”  

You blinked. “What?”  

“You’ve been… different.” His voice was measured, careful. “Quieter.”  

You tried to play it off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Long shoot days, you know how it is.”  

Pedro didn’t look convinced.  

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that steady, unreadable gaze of his. Like he was sifting through the words you weren’t saying, trying to make sense of them.  

Then, without another word, he sat down beside you.  

Close enough that his arm brushed against yours.  

You tensed, just slightly, before exhaling.  

Neither of you spoke for a moment.  

Then—  

“Can I see?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook.  

You hesitated.  

It was just mindless doodles—tiny flowers curling around the corners of the pages, half-finished sketches of set pieces, a rough outline of something that might have been Pedro’s profile if you hadn’t abandoned it halfway through.  

You felt a little embarrassed, but you handed it to him anyway.  

Pedro flipped through the pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are really good.”  

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just sketches.”  

“Still,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the paper. “They’re yours.”  

There was something about the way he said it—soft, sincere—that made your stomach tighten.  

For the first time in two days, something in you eased.  

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

And when Pedro leaned in, just slightly, warmth radiating from his shoulder where it rested against yours, you didn’t move away.

Pedro was still flipping through your sketches when a sharp, saccharine voice cut through the air.  

“Oh wow, there you are, Pedro. I was wondering when you’d finally come up for air.”  

Cecilia.  

You felt your whole body go rigid.  

Pedro barely glanced up, his fingers still tracing one of your sketches absentmindedly. “Hey.” His voice was flat, distracted.  

She took a step closer, her presence invasive in a way that made your skin prickle. “I was just telling the others how dedicated you are to your work. You know, always finding ways to get into character.” Her gaze flicked toward you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even off set.”  

You swallowed hard.  

Your chest felt tight, exhaustion pressing against your ribs, making it harder to keep your expression neutral. You were already hanging by a thread, stretched too thin over the last two days, and Cecilia knew it.  

Pedro, still looking down at your notebook, gave a vague hum of acknowledgment, barely engaging. It wasn’t the reaction Cecilia had been hoping for, and you could see it. The way her expression twitched for half a second before smoothing over again.  

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling. “It’s sweet, though. That you take the time to entertain people. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets that kind of attention from you.” She let out a light, airy laugh that made your stomach turn. “Guess it pays to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”  

The implication was clear.  

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react.  

But then—  

“Cecilia,” Pedro’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. His fingers tapped against the notebook, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing?”  

Cecilia blinked, all faux innocence. “What do you mean?”  

Pedro finally lifted his head, and when he met her gaze, something in his expression shifted—something sharp, something distinctly unimpressed.  

“I mean, what are you doing?” His voice was just as smooth as before, but there was weight behind it now. “Because if you’re here to talk about the shoot, you should probably be talking to the crew.”  

Cecilia’s smile faltered.  

It was subtle, but you caught it.  

She opened her mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Pedro was already looking back at you, tilting the notebook toward you slightly, as if she weren’t even standing there.  

“You should finish this one,” he murmured, tapping his finger against the half-finished sketch of his profile. “It’s really good.”  

You could feel Cecilia’s eyes burning into you, but Pedro wasn’t giving her anything to work with.  

Her lips parted, like she might try again, but then she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she let out a small, sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked off.  

The moment she was gone, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your hands gripping your notebook a little tighter.  

Pedro glanced over, brow furrowed. “You okay?”  

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “I just…” A deep inhale. “I think I need a break.”  

Pedro studied you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, resting his hand over yours where it lay against the bench.  

Warm. Steady.  

Grounding.  

“Let’s take one, then,” he murmured.  

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain on the pavement as the last of the crew wrapped up for the day. You were exhausted, your body aching from hours on set, but when Pedro leaned in—voice low and warm—you felt something in you unwind.  

“Wanna grab dinner before heading back?”  

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Like… out-out?”  

His lips quirked into a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Out-out.”  

You hesitated, glancing around as crew members bustled past, some already heading toward the shuttle van waiting to take everyone back to the hotel. “But, like… what if people see me with you?”  

Pedro gave you a look. “So?”  

“So… you’re you,” you gestured vaguely at him, “and I’m just—”  

He cut you off with a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. We’re not doing that again. You’re you. And I wanna have dinner with you. End of discussion.”  

The finality in his tone made your stomach flip.  

You bit your lip, then nodded. “…Okay.”  

Pedro’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumped your shoulder lightly. “Good.”  

By the time you both made it to the shuttle van, most of the cast and crew were already piling in.  

Vanessa was the first to notice. She raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ohhh, where are you two off to?”  

Before you could answer, Joseph leaned forward from his seat. “Are we witnessing a secret rendezvous?”  

Ebon chuckled, shaking his head. “A little late-night dinner date?”  

Coco, already buckled in, smirked knowingly. “Have funnnn,” she teased, dragging out the last syllable.  

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. Pedro, for his part, was completely unfazed, flashing them an easy smile as he opened the door for you. “Don’t wait up,” he called, earning a chorus of laughter and whistles from the others as he shut it behind you.  

The restaurant wasn’t far—a quiet little spot tucked away from the main streets. The walk there was peaceful, the city buzzing around you but never pressing in too close.  

Pedro, dressed down in a hoodie, jeans, a baseball cap, and his glasses, was trying his best to blend in. But even like this, effortlessly casual, he still had a presence. He still walked like he took up space, like the world had to move around him.  

The height difference was almost comical. You felt it every time he turned his head down to look at you, every time his arm brushed against yours.  

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.  

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. “What?”  

Pedro gave you a look, one that made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever act you thought you were pulling. “Cecilia.”  

Your stomach twisted.  

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal.”  

Pedro stopped walking.  

You took two more steps before realizing, turning back to find him standing there, arms crossed, brows drawn together in frustration.  

He looked at you, really looked at you. “Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said, voice quieter now but firm. “If it’s hurting you, it’s a big deal.”  

You swallowed.  

The weight of his concern settled over you, warm and heavy. No one had ever really said that before. That what you were feeling mattered. That you weren’t just overreacting.  

Something in your chest cracked open, just a little.  

“…I just don’t want to make a thing out of it,” you admitted, voice small.  

Pedro’s features softened. He stepped closer, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you, either.”  

A lump formed in your throat.  

And then, just as easily as he had turned serious, he pulled back, tilting his head toward the restaurant. “C’mon. Food first, then we plot Cecilia’s demise.”  

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.  

Pedro grinned, pleased with himself, before nudging your shoulder with his own.  

And as you walked the rest of the way, some of the weight on your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way that made the rest of the world feel far away. Soft jazz hummed through the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile, barely sparing a glance at Pedro—either because she didn’t recognize him or, more likely, was being professional about it.  

Pedro let you choose the table, and you picked one near the window, a cozy little booth that felt tucked away from the rest of the diners. As you slid into your seat, Pedro pulled off his cap, running a hand through his messy curls before setting it down on the table.  

He looked… comfortable. Relaxed. And yet, there was still something unreadable in his expression as he watched you settle in.  

“You know,” he started, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m kind of mad at you.”  

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”  

“Because,” he huffed, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for days, and the first time it actually happens, it’s because some Mean Girls knockoff has been making your life miserable.”  

You snorted. “So dramatic.”  

“I am dramatic,” he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But seriously. I don’t like that it took this for me to get to steal you away.”  

There was something in the way he said it—lighthearted, sure, but laced with something else. Something quieter. More honest.  

Your stomach flipped.  

Before you could figure out how to respond, the waiter appeared, handing over menus. Pedro thanked him with a charming smile before glancing back at you. “What are you in the mood for?”  

You shrugged, scanning the options. “Something warm.”  

Pedro hummed. “Soup?”  

“Maybe.”  

“Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we get a huge plate of pasta and reenact Lady and the Tramp.”  

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not.”  

Pedro placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. That was a little too fast. Like you’ve thought about rejecting me before.”  

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break free. He made it so easy to forget the exhaustion pressing down on you, the weight of the last few days.  

The waiter came back, and you both placed your orders—him getting some kind of hearty stew, you settling on a creamy pasta dish. The conversation flowed as effortlessly as ever, touching on everything and nothing all at once.  

At some point, Pedro leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His knee brushed against yours, but he didn’t move away. Neither did you.  

“So.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “Cecilia.”  

You sighed, slumping slightly. “Can we not?”  

“We can,” Pedro allowed. “But I still hate it.”  

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between your fingers. “It’s not like she’s saying anything outright cruel. Just little things. Looks. Comments. Stuff that doesn’t sound like much but still…”  

Pedro’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “That’s how people like her work. They know how to make you feel like you’re imagining it.”  

You swallowed, looking down. “Yeah.”  

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then—  

“Do you want me to talk to her?”  

Your head snapped up. “What? No.”  

Pedro tilted his head, eyeing you. “Why not?”  

“Because,” you exhaled sharply, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”  

His gaze softened, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I also know that you’re tired. And I hate seeing you like this.”  

Something in you wavered.  

Pedro sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—God, I don’t get it. How could anyone not adore you?”  

Your breath hitched.  

The words were so sincere, so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying to be charming—just saying what was in his heart.  

Heat crept up your neck. You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “You’re biased.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”  

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”  

Pedro grinned. “And yet, here you are. Having dinner with me.”  

“Unfortunately.”  

He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”  

The waiter arrived with your food, and Pedro’s dramatic antics were temporarily forgotten as the delicious aroma filled the air. As you picked up your fork, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand—just for a second, just long enough to send a small shiver up your spine.  

“Hey,” he murmured.  

You glanced up, and for the first time all day, you felt seen.  

“Don’t let her get to you,” Pedro said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re worth so much more than whatever bullshit she’s trying to pull.”  

Something tightened in your chest.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Good.”  

The weight on your shoulders didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened, melted into something manageable under the glow of candlelight and Pedro’s unwavering attention. You let yourself relax, let yourself exist in this small, intimate moment where it was just the two of you, where the laughter was easy and the warmth between you was something real, something steady.  

Pedro caught your gaze mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in just slightly. “There she is.”  

You blinked, tilting your head. “What?”  

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it in a while.”  

Heat bloomed in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, something delicate but deep. You rolled your eyes, but it lacked any real bite. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” Pedro teased, mirroring your words from earlier, “here you are.”  

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Unfortunate, really.”  

Pedro pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Wow. First, I get turned down for Lady and the Tramp, and now this? My ego is in shambles.”  

You laughed, a real, unguarded sound, and he grinned like that was exactly what he was hoping for.  

The conversation stretched long into the night, ebbing and flowing between playful teasing and quiet sincerity. The kind of talk that felt effortless, that felt safe.  

Somewhere between the last bites of food and the soft hum of the restaurant around you, Pedro reached across the table, his fingers skimming yours. The touch was featherlight, a quiet question rather than a demand. You could have pulled away.  

But you didn’t.  

Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, grounding, steady.  

Pedro didn’t say anything—he just squeezed your hand, a silent promise, and you squeezed back.  

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city with it. The restaurant door shut softly behind you, leaving you and Pedro standing beneath the glow of streetlights, his cap pulled low, his glasses perched on his nose.  

It should have felt different—stepping back into reality after the small bubble of warmth inside the restaurant. But somehow, it didn’t.  

Pedro rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “Still okay?”  

You exhaled, watching as your breath curled into the night air. “Yeah,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I think I am.”  

Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied.

It turns out Vanessa, Coco, Joseph and Ebon got dinner somewhere else in town away from the two of you and they were waiting already in the shuttle and as soon as you both stepped inside, the teasing started. “Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Vanessa sang, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joseph smirked from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest. “How romantic was it, really? Scale of one to ten?”

Coco grinned. “I’m betting solid eight.” Ebon scoffed. “Nah, Pedro’s smooth—at least a nine.” Pedro sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys seriously have nothing better to do?” Vanessa waved a hand. “Nope. Now spill.” You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt as the van pulled away from the curb. “We ate dinner. Like normal people. And then we walked outside. Like normal people.” Coco squinted. “That’s exactly what someone who did kiss would say.” Pedro groaned, leaning his head back against the seat, while you fought the smile tugging at your lips. Joseph held out his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Was it cute at least?” You blinked at him. “Was what cute?” “The date—” “It wasn’t a date,” you and Pedro said at the same time. A pause.

Then Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences?” “Oh my God,” Pedro mumbled under his breath. The laughter rolled through the van, easy and infectious, and despite the relentless teasing, despite the way your face burned under their knowing looks, you couldn’t help but feel… good.

The knot in your chest—the one that had been coiled so tight these past few days—had loosened. Maybe not completely, but enough that breathing didn’t feel so hard. Pedro shifted beside you, turning his head so only you could hear him. “They’re never gonna let this go.” You sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” His shoulder brushed yours, a quiet reassurance, and when he spoke again, there was something soft in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” You hesitated. Because truthfully, the weight of the past few days still sat heavy on your shoulders. Cecilia had made sure of that. The quiet digs, the passive-aggressive comments, the knowing smirks—it was a kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones. But right now, in the warmth of this moment, with Pedro looking at you like he actually cared about the answer, you found yourself saying— “I think I will be.” Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. It was a small thing—just a simple gesture, barely more than a shift of his head. But somehow, it carried more weight than it should have, like he was silently saying I see you. I hear you. You swallowed. It was nice to have a friend. But then—was that all this was? You glanced at him again, at the way he was sat with you so easily, like he’d always been meant to be there. At the way he felt beside you, like a quiet anchor in the storm of the last few days.

End Notes:

I told you there would be drama O_O

Again, no hate to any girlie named Cecilia, everyone calm.

Don’t worry girlies… it will turn out fine, mostly… I think… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YA'LL SEEN THE TEASER TRAILER!?!?!? IM UNWELL AND DYING AND SO EXCITED AND I WANT TO MELT AND DIE VANESSA KIRBY YOU LUCKY WOMAN I WANNA KISS HIM TOO T^T

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

Running into Spider Webs - Ticci Toby x Female reader NSFW

Warnings: dubcon

Tags: partying, drinking, reader is a DUMB IDIOT, degradation, fingering, oral sex, face fucking, overstimulation, forced orgasm, squirting, German dirty talk, creampie

Words: 8.8k

Summary: After a heated argument with your roommate you find yourself alone at a playground in the middle of the night, trying your best to cool down. Your rage filled antics inadvertently capture the attention of Toby. Charmed by his ability to say whatever he thinks and intrigued by his mysteriousness, you find yourself going along with whatever he says. As the night goes on, you start to realize this strangely attractive boy may be more than you bargained for.

As always: ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ all canon will be flexible to make way for sexy ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

This is my last fic to crosspost from AO3 so my fics will undoubtedly come out at a slower rate from here on out :P

This was my first attempt at a more lore accurate Toby! I had to do a lot of research on his original characterization and his disorders but I’m satisfied with how it came out!

I was also greatly inspired by @annokan she makes really awesome art of Toby and she has an excellent characterization of him so I recommend checking out her blog :3

“FUCK YOU!” You screamed before slamming the door behind you. You raced down the steps of the porch and down onto the sidewalk. The cool summer night air felt good on your face, but it was doing nothing to cool your temper.

You were seething with rage, stomping down the street, not even sure where you were planning on going. All you could see was red. You only knew one thing.

I need to get the fuck away from her!

It was already dark outside. Normally, your common sense would’ve told you not to be walking around alone at night, but you were so livid you couldn’t think straight.

You trudged all the way to the playground at the end of the neighborhood. It was completely empty. No kids were playing at this time of night. They actually had some sense, unlike you.

You walked up to a bench and plopped down, angrily mumbling to yourself. “Fuck her… stupid fucking…. Ugh!”

You couldn’t sit down for long. You were still fuming. Your feet hit the pavement and you rose up, still stomping around and throwing your hands around angrily while mumbling. Unbeknownst to you, someone was watching you from the woods. He was rather intrigued by your behavior. What was a pretty girl like that doing out here alone?

You were still ranting on angrily, pacing around the playground. “I swear I’m gonna fucking kill her!” You half shrieked.

The words you had just uttered fully piqued his curiosity. Now he wanted to play with you.

You groaned again in frustration, pressing your head into one of the poles that supported the playground for dramatic effect. You closed your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, almost feeling like you had gotten everything out of your system.

A hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your thoughts as you whipped around and shrieked.

A tall guy with messy brown hair looked slightly startled by your reaction. He was wearing a mask that covered half his face, but you were still able to see a good amount of it.

“Sorry.” He said half-heartedly, chuckling a little. “I just -fuck- I saw you out here acting crazy and wanted to see what you’re up to?” He jerked his head to the side in the middle of his sentence, correlated with the swear.

His answer seemed innocent enough, yet internally he was loving the scared little bunny look you got when he surprised you.

“Shit! Fuck… sorry you really scared me.” You let out a deep breath, feeling a bit relieved it wasn’t some scary murderer.

You looked him over a bit better now. From what you could see of his face, you could tell he was fairly attractive. He wore a hoodie and jeans, a pretty normal outfit except for the goggles on his head. You wondered what those were for.

“I caught you throwing your hands around and talking to yourself so I just wondered what the hell you were doing. Are you a crazy person?” He asked, rather bluntly.

“Oh my god…” The realization of how you probably looked from his perspective washed over you. “Fuck man, I’m sorry. I know it looks like I’m some type of crazy person. I swear I’m not. Truth is, I actually just got in a big argument with my roommate so I’m out here trying to cool my head but it’s not really working.”

“Oh, yeah? What -fuck- happened?” Once again he jerked his neck in tandem with the swear.

You paused for a second. Were you really just gonna air out all your business to a total stranger? Did it really matter though? You were still boiling with anger and very conveniently there is a guy here who is willing to listen to you.

“Well basically, she keeps having her boyfriend over like 24/7, and like I don’t mind him being there sometimes, but everyday? It’s just ridiculous. Like I don’t pay to live with a dude y’know?”

“Sounds to me like you got yourself another roommate.” He laughed to himself.

“Yeah, and it’s not one I wanted. It’s like I can’t walk around my apartment without feeling a little on edge cause there’s a man around. What if I wanted to walk around wearing tiny booty shorts? Well, can’t now.” You said with a huff, leaning against the pole.

He laughed at your booty shorts comment. “Why not just tell him to get the fuck out?” He sounded like he didn’t quite understand the issue.

“Well, I can’t do that.” You joked. “That would make her really mad.”

He looked like he still didn’t understand for a second. “So you’re out here having a spasm cause you didn’t want to make her mad?”

“A spasm?” You smirked a little. “I mean yeah I guess so.” You smiled a little more.

“That’s funny. You’re funny.” He laughed. “-fuck-"

You just eyed him for a moment, before gaining the courage to ask. “Do you mind if I ask what’s with the…?” You imitated the jerking motion he had just done.

His face went dark for just a split second, so quickly you almost thought you imagined it, then immediately went back to normal. “I have Tourette’s, actually.” He said a little awkwardly.

Your hand slapped over your mouth. “Oh my god. I’m so fucking sorry. That was super fucked up of me.” You apologized profusely.

He laughed a little at how panicked you got, you were so naïve. “A little bit, but I’m willing -cough- to overlook it cause you’re funny.”

“No, I’m super fucked up, I really am sorry. Damn.” You kept babbling like an idiot.

He laughed more, and you couldn’t help but think he was a little cute. He had a nice laugh too. You started to wonder what he looked like under that mask.

“It’s fine. People have said a lot worse.” His comment made it sound like it was no big deal, but it still made you wonder what people have said in the past.

“Well that’s super fucked up!” You blurted. “If people have said bad stuff about it I mean…” you continued. When he didn’t say anything you felt the need to keep going. “Cause like, you know, it’s not your fault and people shouldn’t judge you for that.”

The longer you kept talking the more stupid you felt, but it was like word vomit, you just couldn’t stop. He was enjoying watching you stumble over your words.

“You really are funny.” He said in a tone that almost sounded flirtatious. Almost. You were quite intriguing to him. He had the urge to mess with you more, to watch you squirm. He could attack you or chase you but… that wouldn’t be very fun... yet. Maybe later.

The wind blew, and you shivered a bit. It then dawned on you that although it was summer, it was still nighttime. Your crop top and shorts weren’t doing much to keep you warm. That’s what you get for being impulsive and running out of the house.

“Are you cold?” He asked, now sitting a little closer to you.

“Yeah, I just kinda ran out of the house in what I had on.” You laughed. “If you couldn’t tell, I don't think much.”

“Do you want to wear my hoodie?” He asked.

“What?! No, no! That’s yours. I wouldn’t take it and make you cold.”

“It’s okay, I can’t feel it.” He said casually, already taking off his hoodie.

You cocked your head to the side, a confused expression on your face. “What, you mean like the cold doesn’t bother you?”

“No, I can’t feel it.” He said again, as if it were a no brainer.

He already handed it to you before you could refuse it again, so you put it on. It was quite warm and smelled like the woods, a faintly pleasant smell. “That’s kind of funny actually, I figured you were just super chilly, since you have that mask on.”

“No, -fuck- that’s for a -fuck- different reason.” He ticked twice in one sentence, it seemed like you pointing out the mask might’ve put him on edge. He was jerking around a bit more too.

“Oh… I mean you don’t have to tell me why.” You stated adamantly, waving your hands in front of you, signaling it was no big deal.

“I have a scar on -fuck-” he coughed and jerked a bit more. “On my face. It -fuck- freaks some people out so I keep it hidden.”

“Oh. Well… you don’t have to hide it from me?” You said. “I won’t judge you if you take it off.”

He mumbled something to himself that you couldn’t quite hear and then slowly took it off. Under his mask was a large gash on his left cheek, it went all the way through his face, exposing his teeth. He also had two silver lip rings on either side of his mouth.

You took in his face with awe, your jaw slowly falling open a bit. The scar was something to behold for sure, but to you it only made him more interesting. It was like gazing at a work of art, terrifyingly beautiful.

“Woah… that’s… gnarly.” You said softly, as if to yourself. Then you realized what you said and slapped your hand over your mouth. “Shit! I mean, sorry, that was fucked up.”

His facial expression hadn’t changed but you kept going, the word vomit was back. “I meant gnarly as in like it’s really cool, not that it's gross or something! I think it’s awesome! Well wait… is that fucked up to say too? I feel like the way you got it probably wasn’t pleasant...” You rambled on.

He only watched you with a little amused expression, letting you dig your grave further cause he found it funny.

“Can I touch it?” You asked, already bringing your fingers up to lightly touch the edge of the scar. “Oops, I’m already touching it.” You continued verbalizing all your thoughts like the filter in your brain was broken.

Realizing your mistake, you instantly retracted your hand at lighting speed. “Did that hurt?!”

“Nope. I can’t feel pain either.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Hm?” You cocked your head again. “What do you mean you can’t feel pain?”

“I have CIPA. It has a longer name but I won’t say it cause it’s a mouthful and you won’t remember it anyways. But basically, I can’t feel pain. Oh and also, I can’t feel temperature, that’s why I’m not cold.”

“Oh! Well… still I’m sorry for touching it.” You looked at the ground, feeling a little embarrassed by your impulsive actions and words.

“You don’t want to touch me? Cause the scar is nasty?” He smiled.

Your face immediately became shocked. “No! That’s not it at all! I meant what I said when I said I think it’s cool.” You took a breath. “I… well I kinda think it makes you look like a work of art.” You said awkwardly, a slight blush on your cheeks.

He eyed you for a second before saying, “You’re kinda weird.” He was very blunt about it but was still smiling.

“What?” You cracked a smile. “You’re kinda weird.”

You found yourself drawn in by him. You wanted to know more about this strange man who seemed to pop up out of nowhere and fix your mood. He was so direct and honest, different from the majority of people. You found yourself feeling really relaxed around him somehow, even though you were majorly fucking up at every point in this conversation. Maybe it was because he was so blunt, it was like you didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking.

“Yeah, I know. But you’re weirder. Something’s seriously wrong with you.”

“For what? Just cause I think your scar is cool? You’re the weirdo here, you approached me out of nowhere when I was bugging out like a crazy person. What were you even doing out here anyways?”

“Oh.” He said like he just remembered. “Actually, I was on my way to a -cough- party.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh! You should get going then! I don’t wanna keep you here if you have people waiting on you.”

“No, it’s not a party like that. It’s a big party. Besides, no one would be waiting on me.” He chuckled. Then his face lit up a bit, like he got an idea. “You should come with me.”

You were a bit thrown off by his offer. It was so sudden and you barely knew him.

But… you didn’t want to go home, you were still fuming from that argument. Plus, there was something so intriguing about him, so magnetic.

Was it a good idea? Probably not. You can’t trust someone you don’t know. Only an idiot would go with him. The situation was full of red flags. A logical person would’ve said no, however, it was a well known fact that above all else, you were impulsive, naïve, and a little dumb.

“Really? Okay, let��s go!” You said excitedly.

—

The party was a short walk away, but in that time you were able to uncover just a little more information on him, like his name. As you approached the house you realized Toby hadn’t lied, this was a big party. The yard was full of people, lining the porch, standing in little circles on the grass, and scattered around, and that was just outside.

You could hear the music from outside and see the lights flashing in the windows. A giddy feeling rose in your chest. This is exactly what you needed to get your mind off things.

You recognized a few people as the two of you strolled up to the door. You didn’t know who was throwing the party, but you figured it was someone who went to your university, since it was close to campus and some of your classmates were here.

As you approached the door Toby slid to the side and opened it for you.

“Oh my, how chivalrous.” You said dramatically.

“Giving you my jacket, open -fuck- opening the door for you, I think I may be in the running for gentleman of the year.” He said sarcastically, placing a dominant hand to your lower back to guide you inside.

His lack of respect for personal space didn’t seem to bother you, but you were a little surprised at how easily he could get close to you and touch you, considering you had only just met. Despite this, it still made you feel a little safer, almost like you were being protected. This party was full of people you didn’t know, so it was nice to have him guide you through the house.

The music was booming, so Toby leaned in close to your ear, “Do you want a drink?”

Although the gesture felt pretty necessary given the noise, you still felt a little tickle go down your spine when he did it. Your face blushed just a little bit. “Oh…! Uh… yeah! Let’s get some.” You answered as you both made your way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was full of alcohol. Bottles of all kinds of liquor decorated the counter. Your eyes ran over the choices a couple of times.

“Don’t know what to pick?” Toby asked.

“I’m just really indecisive.” You laughed.

“I’ll make you something.” He said and then started pouring you a drink, mixing a few liquors and some Sprite.

“You’re only making one?” You asked.

“I can’t -fuck- really drink since I -fuck- have to wear the mask.” He said a little nervously, which made you feel kinda stupid.

Duh, of course he wants to wear it here.

He turned and handed you the drink. Since you watched him make it, you figured it was safe enough to drink. You took a sip, coughing a little as the liquor burned your throat. “Fuck, that’s strong.” You coughed more and added a bit more Sprite to your cup to make it drinkable.

He laughed at you. “Didn’t know you couldn’t hold your -fuck- liquor.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” You gave him a playfully skeptical look.

“Of course. How else could I get you to hang around me?” He said sarcastically and guided you into the living room.

You both sat down on the couch and once again you took notice of how close he sat to you. You were intently trying to decipher whether or not he was into you, but you were always kind of bad at being able to tell.

His eyes continuously scanned the room, like he was looking for something, or rather, someone.

“Are you looking for a friend?” You asked.

He looked a little thrown off by your question, defensive almost?

Odd…

He cleared his throat and then answered, “No, just scoping out the room.”

A little burst of excitement hit you, that drink was already kicking in. “Ooo~ do you wanna walk the floor?” You asked.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like you walk around a party just to see if there’s anyone you know here and to get a feel for everyone. You wanna do it?” You smiled.

“You bet.” He grabbed you and pulled you up with him.

You linked elbows with him. “Okay, let’s go!” You were giddy with excitement.

You felt a little stupid about it since it hadn’t been that long, but it seemed like you were already developing a bit of a crush on him. Being this close to him made your heart race. Your chest felt warm and at this point you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or Toby.

You strutted around the house with Toby in tow, your eyes wandering over all the people.

You bumped into someone with a little “oof.” You looked up to see Cassie, a good friend of yours who was in a lot of your classes.

“Hey!!!” She immediately exclaimed, the intoxication apparent.

“Omg hiiii!!!” You had already drank about three fourths of your cup and it was starting to show.

“Who’s this?” She said with a little giggle, her eyes flitting up to Toby and then back to you.

“Oh! His name’s Toby!” You grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to you. “We met like an hour ago at a playground.”

“I caught her acting like a maniac.” He added.

“Okay, so your usual?” Cassie laughed.

With your attention directed at Cassie, you missed the way Toby’s attention was caught as someone passed through the room. He leaned in close to you, his voice now serious. “I’ll be right back.”

You failed to notice his change in tone, too distracted by everything going on around you. “Okay, don’t get lost.” You giggled again.

“Hey.” Cassie grabbed your hand. “We were just about to play Just Dance, you wanna join?”

Drunk Just Dance? There was nothing that could’ve peaked your interest more.

“I’m in!”

—

Song after song later, you hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. You were starting to sober up, but you were still well into the tipsy stage.

You looked at the time. “Fuck.”

I forgot about Toby!

You felt like a massive idiot. He had said he was going to be right back and then you had walked away from where he left you. You were really starting to like him and now he probably thought you had just blown him off. Was he even still at the party?

You wandered around trying to scope out if he was still around. It was a bit easier now since less people were at the party. You were starting to panic a bit, the feeling of anxiety aching in your chest now. You felt like you really fucked up.

Next thing you knew, you had bumped into him.

He instantly leaned down, getting close to your face, his voice sounding a little sultry. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Toby!” You sounded relieved and excited, it seemed like he wasn’t mad at you at all, keeping the same playfulness he had earlier.

“So, where have you been?” His voice sounded slightly flirtatious.

“Playing Just Dance!” You said goofily. Your eyes trailed down to his shirt, which now had a small stain on it near the bottom. It was hard to tell since it was still dark in the house, but it almost looked like blood. “What’s that?” You pointed to it.

“Oh. I ended up helping -cough- my buddy who got a really bad nosebleed.” He said nonchalantly, then immediately changed the subject. “Let’s leave.” He said, grabbing your arm before you had a chance to respond.

You looked around, the party was dying down anyways. You still didn’t want to go back home to face your roommate, but it seemed like you didn’t really have another option.

Just before you were about to walk out the door together you felt a tug on your arm. It was a friend of yours, one you didn’t know too well but you’d seen her around during classes and at parties. Amber… was her name? Maybe? She pulled you a little closer and then attempted to whisper but it seemed this girl was a little tipsy herself so it wasn’t that quiet. “Hey… are you good?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, also failing to whisper.

“Y’know.” Her eyes darted to Toby standing behind you and then back to yours. “I’ve never seen you with him before.”

“Oh thattt.” You let out a tipsy giggle. “Nah, nah. I’m fine. I know him.”

“And you wanna go with him…?” She eyed him warily again and then looked back at you.

“Like haha shhhhhh.” You giggled, trying to be more secretive about your little crush. “Yes, I wanna go with him. Don’t worry.”

Given your abhorrent attempt at whispering, Toby was following this whole conversation. Neither of you could see due to the lack of lighting in the room, but he got the absolute worst wolfish grin on his face when he heard you say that.

He’d successfully trapped you.

—

You felt like you were really winding down once you guys got outside. The slight chill of the wind and the lack of music in your ears made you feel a lot more placid, almost sleepy.

Toby noticed your change in mood. “Tired?”

“Mm.” You hummed in agreement. “But I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna see that bitch yet.” You realized the way your statement sounded belatedly, after it had already left your mouth.

Well now it sounds like you want to go home with him!

Truth be told, you weren’t opposed to doing so, but it wasn’t your intention to be so forward. “Wait- I mean-"

“Are you saying you want to come home with me?” You could tell he was smirking underneath his mask.

“I wasn’t trying to- I mean I wouldn’t mind but- well- what I’m trying to say is-" The way you stumbled over your words felt like you were falling down a hill, catching on branches and rocks the whole way down.

“No, I understand.” He giggled a little. “We’ll have to sneak, though.” He didn’t hesitate to pick you up bridal style, which felt so sudden to you that your whole face went red. He held you like you were weightless and it dawned on you that he was a lot stronger than he looked.

“You don’t have to carry me! And what do you mean sneak?”

“I’ve got some… uh… roommates. They -fuck- would definitely try to eat a pretty girl like you up.” He chuckled a little darkly. “Your face is very red.”

“Because you picked me up out of nowhere!” You exclaimed.

“You’re kind of perverted, you know that?” He was grinning under his mask.

“I’m not!”

“I bet your head’s just full of dirty thoughts.” He giggled.

“I’m not thinking anything like that!” You almost whined, trying to defend yourself.

He only giggled in response, continuing to tease you.

—

After a long walk in his arms you came upon a huge mansion in the middle of the woods. It looked quite old, but not rundown. No, it was very well kept, looking almost… unnatural.

Just who is this guy?!

It wasn’t at all what you were expecting. What guy his age could afford to live in a house like that, even with roommates? On the other hand, it was out in the middle of the woods, far from the rest of town. Maybe someone had died here and it was haunted so him and a few buddies were able to buy it for super cheap? No, but still, a house like this was insane.

“This is where you live?”

“Why else would I bring you here?” He acted like it wasn’t weird at all. “Now shhh, we’re gonna have to get past my roommates.” The last word came out like it wasn’t very natural for him to say. He set you down on your feet. You were glad you were feeling a lot more sober now, otherwise something like this would be a real challenge.

The door creaked slightly as he slowly pushed it open. You followed behind him.

The mansion was even more shocking on the inside. The whole place had a very gothic feel. The ceilings were high, the lighting was dark, and the detailing was so intricate. It was stunningly beautiful, but something about the place sent a chill down your spine. Maybe it really was haunted or maybe someone really did die here. You couldn’t quite place why you felt on edge.

Something just felt off.

He held your hand and pulled you along, guiding you through the house which felt like a maze. You heard distant voices and figured those were the roommates you weren’t supposed to meet. Even though a situation like this was seemingly low stakes you felt overly anxious. You were deathly afraid of getting caught, as if you were hiding from a serial killer or something.

He brought you to a door you assumed led to his room and ushered you in. Upon entering you looked around. It was pretty messy but not in a dirty, rotting food kind of way, more of an organized chaos kind of way. There were clothes strewn about the floor and different pieces of paper and sticky notes with scratchy handwriting on them lined the walls, organized in no particular way. A lot of them had a symbol that you didn’t recognize. It looked like a circle with an X through it. There was a bookshelf that was filled with anything but books. It had lots of old CDs and DVDs, along with random trinkets. There were so many things to look at your eyes were darting around like ping pong balls.

You didn’t have long to take in the room before you were slammed against the door, Toby’s lips on yours. A warm feeling grew in your chest as you returned the kiss. One of his hands slid down to your waist as the other tangled in your hair. He bit your bottom lip a little bit, signaling you to open your mouth for him.

Your hands gripped at the front of his shirt as you obliged. He slid his tongue into your mouth and you felt a jolt of electricity travel down your body to your core. The kiss was intense. You barely felt like you could keep up, like you were drowning in him.

Your heart was racing, your whole body became pleasantly warm, excitement rushing through you. His borderline ferocity made you feel incredibly desirable. He wedged his leg between your thighs and you became very aware of his need for you, feeling his erection press against your stomach.

His lips found your neck, trailing warm open mouth kisses down it. You shivered, arching into his touch. You unconsciously began to move your hips against his leg, craving more friction. He made a noise that sounded almost like a growl and hooked his hands under your thighs, picking you up effortlessly.

He moved over to the bed and sat down, helping you straddle his waist. He kissed your neck again as soft moans escaped your lips. He bit down without warning, causing you to squeak a little both from the surprise and the pain. He sucked hard over the skin he had just bitten. Your moans got a little louder as he left a dark purple hickey on your neck.

He pulled away just enough to look at it, his breath still hot on your neck. “You’re marked.” He chuckled huskily. “How pretty.” He gently ran his fingers over it, causing you to shiver again.

He mumbled something amusedly that sounded like “pathetic.” But you couldn’t quite hear it.

He moved to the other side of your neck, intent on making more marks while his hand slipped under your shirt, squeezing your chest through your bra. His movements were a bit twitchy, but it didn’t bother you.

He was buzzing with excitement, elated to be touching you in such a way. He started to pull up your shirt and you raised your arms, helping him take it off.

You could tell he was holding back a bit, trying to take his time with you. You were starting to feel a little impatient as well, so you decided to grind yourself in his lap, feeling his erection pressing against your aching core.

You bit your lip when you heard him groan. He moved to unhook your bra, awkwardly fumbling with the clasp for a moment before he got it. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and you wrapped your arms around his neck, encouraging him to continue.

His free hand snaked down your stomach to your waistband, the light touch feeling ticklish before he dipped his fingers into your shorts and into your panties.

He sighed when he felt how dripping wet you were. “Lift your hips for me.”

Your face got red but you did as he asked, lifting up so he could pull off your shorts and your panties. You settled back into his lap as he continued to coat his fingers in your arousal. You felt so exposed, especially considering the position he had you in and the fact that he was still fully clothed.

“Spread your legs for me a little more, pretty girl.” He looked overwhelmingly pleased as you once again did as he asked. He ran his fingers over your clit, applying gentle pressure and teasing your entrance occasionally. You bucked your hips involuntarily as he did. “So needy.” He sneered.

He continued to tease you for a little, loving the way you squirmed and tried not to moan. Without warning he dipped his finger into you. You gripped his shoulders hoping to ground yourself a bit.

“Fuck…!” You breathed out.

He curled his finger inward, pressing against your g-spot. You squeezed his shoulders harder, your head tipped backward and your eyes fluttered shut. He was absolutely entranced watching your reactions. He wanted to see more of you, to see how far he could push you.

He slipped a second finger in and used his other hand to hold you still, his fingers gripping your hip with a bruising force.

“You like this a lot, don’t you?” He whispered in your ear. “You’re squeezing my fingers so tightly. I can’t wait to put my cock in you.” He brought his thumb up to rub your clit in circles.

You inhaled sharply, both from his words and the overwhelming stimulation. You felt yourself squeeze his fingers even more. Your arousal was dripping down your thighs and surely all over his hand too. You couldn’t help but feel just the tiniest bit embarrassed about how worked up you were getting.

Your moans started to increase in frequency, getting higher and breather as you felt your orgasm start to build deep in your stomach.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Tell me how good it feels.” He continued to whisper in your ear, his grip on your hip somehow getting tighter.

You continued to whimper, not wanting to verbalize exactly how he was making you feel.

“You better tell me or I’ll stop right now.”

An extra pathetic sounding whimper escaped you before you spoke, “So good… s-so fucking good, Toby…” You slurred. You were getting so close, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“That’s it. What a good girl. You wanna come for me, pretty girl?” His voice sounded breathier now too.

“Toby…! I-I can’t…!” You leaned into his shoulder, your whimpers and moans muffled.

“Fuck.” He breathed as he felt your walls convulse around his fingers. He kept moving his fingers but slower, helping draw out your orgasm.

You shuddered in his lap, trying to regain your ability to think after how hard you just came. It seemed you wouldn’t be getting that luxury though, as Toby immediately gripped under your thighs again, pulling you up so he could roll over on top of you. In seconds he was down by your still throbbing heat.

“Wai-”

“You’re really sensitive.” He breathed over your clit. “I want to make you come more.” He looked almost feral, completely drunk on lust. It was like he wasn’t going to be able to hear anything you were saying.

He pushed your thighs apart, once again using such a force that would undoubtedly leave bruises. You wondered if maybe he didn’t realize how strongly he was gripping you since he couldn’t feel pain.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, sucking it at a rhythm that had you arching off the bed and gripping onto his hair for dear life. He only chuckled darkly and then lapped over your clit a few more times before dipping lower to tease your entrance.

You were still so sensitive from the last time you came, it only took seconds before you felt another orgasm building. He was back at your clit, licking it and sucking it so sloppily that a mix of your wetness and his spit was making a puddle on the bed under you.

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as the mind numbing pleasure took over your body. “Toby….!” You squeaked out. There were a few full moments that your head went fully blank before you came down, panting from how hard you just came.

Toby climbed back up your body, hovering over you with his hands placed on either side of your head. He stared down at you, a glint in his eyes that seemed almost obsessive, like he was completely amazed by you. “You’re perfect.”

Your whole face flushed, even after what you guys had just done, words like those shot an arrow through your heart.

He leaned down and captured your lips again; you could taste yourself on his tongue. His body pressed close to yours as one of his hands snaked down to clasp yours, pulling it up by your head. Your chest felt warm and giddy. You secretly hoped this wouldn’t be just a one time hookup because you were starting to really like him.

He pulled away from your lips and pressed kisses down your jaw again, making it down to your neck, nuzzling it a bit while you giggled. This was almost too perfect.

A blood curdling scream shocked you out of your lovesick daze. You jolted up while Toby stayed put, still lightly kissing and sucking your neck.

“Toby, what was that…?!” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“It’s probably just one of my roommates.” He mumbled nonchalantly into your neck.

“But-" You were cut off by more screams, one of which vaguely sounded like a cry for help.

“Toby…!” You exclaimed. “What the hell is going on out there?!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Something was very, very wrong here. You were out at this creepy old mansion in the middle of the woods. You instantly got murder vibes when you got here. Toby had blood on his shirt earlier. Now you’re hearing someone scream bloody murder and Toby is completely unconcerned.

You took a deep breath before pushing Toby up gently so you could look him in the eyes. “Toby, can I ask you a question and will you answer me honestly?”

He sat up fully, looking like he knew what was about to happen.

You sat up as well, still clutching his hand. “Toby, are you a murderer? Is this some kind of murder house?”

He got a lazy grin on his face. “I had a feeling you were gonna ask me that.”

“Toby…” you said his name again, desperately needing an answer to your question.

“Yeah, I murder people sometimes.” He admitted, jerking his head a few times.

Great. Just great. You really liked this guy and he just had to be a murderer. You didn’t know what to think. Maybe it was the shock. You couldn’t have been thinking straight because the next thing you asked was, “Were the people you killed… were they at least bad people?”

“Everyone is sort of a bad person when you really think about it. No one is truly good, even you.” He smirked, lifting your chin. “Besides, I don’t really -fuck- choose who I kill. I just kill whoever Slenderman tells me to kill.” More twitching.

“Slenderman…?” You asked, dumbfounded.

“He’s like an evil entity thing that’s been alive for thousands of years. He makes people his proxy to kill for him. It’s a lot to explain but he’s like my boss.” He said, like it was the most casual thing ever.

Right, just drop that like it’s nothing I guess!

“He’s your boss? Why… how did you start working for him?”

“Oh yeah.” He pulled off his shirt, revealing his somewhat muscular frame, littered with scars. Something clunked to the ground, and you looked down to see a bloodstained hatchet. Prying your eyes away from the weapon and back to him, your eyes ran over him. What really stuck out was the mark on his chest, just below his right collarbone. It looked like a tattoo, but somehow different, like it wasn’t human made. It was a circle with an X through it. The same symbol on the walls. “Slenderman just kind of chose me and then -fuck- I became a proxy. I d- -cough- don’t really remember.”

“Toby.” Your voice cracked as you said his name. You felt like you were about to cry. What the fuck was going on here? What could you do? You needed to help him. Toby seemed like such a sweet person, so how did he get caught up in all of this?

You grabbed both of his hands, holding them tightly as you met his eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but you don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t know how but… I can help you. We can get you out of this-"

“Are you pitying me?” Toby cocked his head to the side, a demented grin on his face. “I’m not some sick child. I don’t need your help.” His voice was now depraved.

He smiled even wider when he saw your almost wounded expression, he reached out to lift your chin. “But don’t worry. I still like you a lot.” This time his smile was more reassuring. It sent another pang through your heart.

You should be screaming. You should already be up and running away from him. So why did you lack the urge to? It was almost like you didn’t believe it, even though the evidence was all there. He had even blatantly admitted it and yet your brain couldn’t make sense of the incongruity of the boy you had spent time with the whole night and the alleged murderer in front of you.

Before you could unscramble your thoughts he had closed the gap between your lips, his hands all over your skin again. It became hard to think of anything but him, the warmth of his hands running across your skin, the scent of his skin so close to yours.

How many people had died by the hands that were now touching all over your body?

His tongue slipped into your mouth again and once again you felt like you were drowning in him, except this time it was worse. This time you knew you wouldn’t be coming up for air. You didn’t want to.

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling and you were reminded of how hard your clit was throbbing. You wanted this so badly, despite everything. It was like you were spellbound.

You reached your hand out to grip his cock, wrapping your hand around it and giving it a few pumps before he pulled you off the bed and brought you to your knees. His thumb ran across your bottom lip before he pressed down, opening your mouth with no resistance from you. He smirked, “So obedient.”

You didn’t hesitate to take his cock in your mouth, slowly taking him in as deep as you could before starting to bob your head slowly.

“Fuckkkk.” He breathed out, gripping your hair in his hand, starting to guide your head.

You moaned around his cock as he started to get rougher, taking control of the pace entirely.

“Du fühlst dich so gut an, mein Mädchen.” He groaned in a low voice.

The fuck….? German?

You were a bit blown away by the sudden language change, especially since you couldn’t understand a word of it. It sounded like German but then again you weren’t entirely sure.

He chuckled darkly at your confusion and started thrusting harder into your mouth. You choked on his cock, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes as his cock went deep into your throat. At this point he was fucking your face, you had no control whatsoever.

“Tut das weh?” He said in a taunting voice. You could tell he was mocking your pain, even if you had no idea what he said. For some reason that made you even wetter, you could feel the way your arousal dripped down your thighs once again.

There is definitely something wrong with me, clinically.

He continued to taunt you in a language you couldn’t understand, his pace unrelenting. “Du liebst es, wenn ich dich quäle, nicht wahr?” You could tell he was getting close as his voice was getting breathier.

You hoped he would finish soon, you could barely take the pace anymore. Your throat burned each time he brutally thrusted his cock into it, even if you were secretly enjoying the way he was humiliating you.

His pace became less rhythmic as he desperately rutted his hips into your mouth, gripping your hair harshly. “Du fühlst dich so gut an.” He groaned out.

After a few more deep thrusts into your mouth, he came down your throat. He pulled out of your mouth, lifting your chin since you could barely hold your head up after that. “Was für ein gutes Mädchen.” He said affectionately.

“What…?” You asked, exhausted and out of breath and sick of hearing shit in a language you can’t understand.

He pulled you back up onto the bed, once again like you were weightless. He nuzzled into your neck again, showering you with kisses. “You did good.”

The way he switched from brutally fucking your throat to giving you ticklish kisses on your neck was giving you whiplash.

His hand snaked down between your legs and he sighed when he felt how wet you were. “You get that wet from having me come down your throat? What a slut.” He chuckled, amazed by it.

A small gasp of shock escaped you, baffled by what he had just said.

“What, you’re embarrassed?” He laughed as he slipped his fingers into you easily. He desperately wanted to watch you come again, he was entranced by the reaction he saw earlier. He needed to see it again.

He immediately found your g-spot and hooked his fingers inwards, making you see stars as moans slipped past your lips. “Wait, Toby- slow down-” Your orgasm was already building at a ferocious pace as he slammed into your g-spot over and over with his fingers.

“Go slower?” He asked, still laughing a little, a smile on his face that held no malice despite his actions. “No way. I want you to come around my fingers.”

He was pumping his fingers in and out of you, making sloppy wet noises fill the room alongside your moans. He hooked his fingers in deep, making sure to press against your g-spot each time as his palm applied pressure to your clit.

You felt a pressure building deep in you, building uncontrollably. Each time he slammed against your g-spot you felt it build more and more. It felt like something would release, and you held it as long as you could until it felt so good you just didn’t care anymore. Your body shook lightly as you came, a gushing heat releasing from you.

He kept his fingers going, prolonging your orgasm. “Mm… that’s it, pretty girl. Let it all out.”

You panted hard, struggling to regain your ability to think after coming that hard.

Did I just squirt…?!

You were absolutely mortified, “I- I didn’t mean to do that! I’m sorry-”

He hugged your body close to him, burying his face in your shoulder. “I knew you were perfect. I can’t wait to keep you here with me.” His words were muffled but still clear enough for you to hear what he said.

You were glad he couldn’t see your face as it fell. “Wait a second, Toby.” Your voice trembled as you pushed up so you could sit up. “What do you mean keep me here?”

He pulled back to look at your face, loving the way it had twisted in fear. He lifted your chin to meet his eyes again. “I like you. I wanna keep you here with me. You can’t leave.”

“What…? You can’t be serious.” You said in disbelief.

“I just told you I murder people. Did you really think you could leave?” He asked like you were stupid. “God, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

The shock washed over you. There wasn’t a hint of humor in his tone. He was clearly one hundred percent serious.

This is all my fault. How could I have been so stupid, just going along with him even after I knew what he was capable of?

You felt something wet drop down on your leg.

Oh, I’m crying.

Watching you start to cry only made Toby more excited. “Haha, why are you crying? -fuck- It could be a lot worse. I could’ve just -fuck- killed you immediately. It would have been easy.” He twitched a few times, correlated with the swears.

“Toby… You can’t keep me here! People will be looking for me!”

He had an unconcerned expression. “Eh, they’ll forget about you soon enough.”

You gasped again in shock, unable to say anything in return. Toby just twitched to the side and started muttering to himself. You recalled the bloodstained hatchet you watched fall to the ground earlier. That’s right. You were completely stuck. If you tried to do anything he could kill you so easily.

His hands came up to softly cup your face, seemingly having turned his attention back to you, wiping away the tears. “Now come on, don’t be li- -fuck- like that.” He pushed you back onto the bed and started aligning his cock at your entrance.

You weren’t sure if the fear somehow confused your body into becoming aroused or if you seriously just had a mental disorder, but your cunt ached with need for him. You could barely contain how bad you needed this when he rubbed the tip of his throbbing cock against your clit. You let out another needy moan.

He chuckled huskily and mumbled under his breath. “Du bist eine kleine, gierige Schlampe, nicht wahr?”

You had no idea what the fuck he said. It didn’t even matter, you needed him so badly. This was wrong. So wrong.

You could no longer care about morals as he slowly pushed his cock into you, feeling the way you stretched around him inch by inch, until you took him in fully. He let out a low groan as you shakily exhaled.

He began thrusting a little faster than you would’ve liked starting out. You tried to hold back your voice, but little whines and whimpers still came out of you.

“Don’t tell me those pathetic whimpers are all you’ve got? C’mon you can do better.” One of his hands came up to clasp yours as he started slamming into you at a vicious pace. You could no longer contain your voice, you were a whining, moaning mess.

You couldn’t decide between asking him to slow down or begging him to keep going. He gripped your face, capturing your lips again, sloppily kissing you as he pumped his cock into you. Blissful pleasure took over your mind. He pulled away from the kiss, a line of spit still connecting your mouths. Your mind was fuzzy and your unfocused eyes lifted to meet his, eliciting a low growl from him.

“You love taking my cock, don’t you?” He was still gripping your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact.

You nodded as high pitched whiny moans escaped you.

“You don’t even care that I’m a murderer. You’re really fucking sick aren’t you?” A wicked grin on his face.

Guilt washed over you as you heard his words. “No…!” Your voice came out weaker than you wanted it to. “I’m not!”

“Yeah you are.” His tone was venomous. “You’re a sick little thing.”

He was right. You had no rebuttal to that. All you could say was, “You’re the one who’s sick…!”

“Maybe. But so are you. You’re feeling so good right now because of a sick murderer’s cock now aren’t you? You want to stay here with me don’t you?”

“I don’t…!”

“How about this?” He leaned real close, whispering in your ear. “If you come you have to stay here with me forever.” He hooked his arms under your knees, pushing them up closer to your chest so he could go deeper.

There was no way he just said that. That wasn’t fair. There was no way you’d be able to hold back.

He picked up the pace again, thrusting into you at a pace that was making your mind go fuzzy. You already felt the orgasm building and he just kept ramming into that damn spot over and over.

“Not there…!” You pleaded.

“Oh, right there?” He responded by driving into it even harder.

You got closer and closer to the edge, trying your hardest to keep yourself from coming. He noticed the way your body tensed. The way your moans became whinier and higher pitched.

“You want to come don’t you? You really want to come.” He taunted you.

“Don’t-” It was too late. The tightly wound coil had snapped. You let out choked moans as you came.

He slowed to a stop, just so he could feel the way you clenched around his cock. He shuddered, “Your cunt is milking my cock.” He suddenly resumed his quick pace causing you to let out a startled gasp. “Fuckkkkk, I can’t stop.”

“Toby…!” You whined, gripping his arms.

He let out another low groan. “Du fühlst dich so gut an, mein Mädchen. Du wirst so schwach für mich.” His voice was gravelly.

He kept thrusting as deeply as he could into you, starting to lose the pace, just slamming into you like his life depended on it. “Du gehörst mir.” He breathed out.

His groans became breathier and breathier, almost becoming whines. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you with my cum.” He leaned down and bit your neck hard, eliciting a sharp wince from you as you felt his hot cum flood your pussy.

Your mind had gone fully blank, it felt like TV static. Just like before, you felt drawn to him, like a magnet.

He gripped your face again, loving the way your face was flushed, your lips were glossy and slightly swollen, and your eyes were dazed. “You’re all fucked out now aren’t you?” He ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “So pretty.” He sighed before kissing you again, this time softly, sweetly.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, matching his soft kiss. If you had run into the spiderweb full speed, you might as well enjoy being caught in the web.

He pulled away to hug you close, burying his face in your neck.

“I knew you’d want to stay.”

Now I gotta admit that I used google translate for the German parts so if there are any German speakers reading this I’m sorry man.

I'm always open for feedback and constructive criticism so please feel free to leave me every thought in your head

I hope u guys enjoyed ~\(≧▽≦)/~

~pls remember to distinguish fiction from reality

[skzdelf]

Squatter | Hwang Hyunjin

.ᐟPAIRING: Hwang Hyunjin x reader

.ᐟSYNOPSIS:  Squatter/crasher is someone who settles on land without right or title. Inspired in the song "OKUPA" by the argentinian singer WOS (I will leave the song below so you can listen to it!!)

.ᐟWARNINGS: mention of weed and drugs; thoughts of death

.ᐟWORDCOUNTER: 1,7k (1731)

.ᐟA/N: divider it’s not mine :3

He walked through the dark streets, his pale skin illuminated by the few streetlights scattered around that part of the city.

Dark circles rested heavily under his eyes, and a black hood covered his head.

The moon, hidden behind the scarce clouds, was his only companion on that lonely nighttime stroll through empty streets and alleys. The area he wandered so carelessly through wasn’t the safest, especially at that hour, but for someone who had almost lost the will to keep living, none of that mattered in the slightest.

He moved through the streets like the wind, lost in thought, waving his hands near his stomach as if casting a spell. His mind was flooded with countless thoughts—among them, you. His thoughts overwhelmed him so much that he got distracted, nearly forgetting where he was headed.

He quickly regained his pace, only a few blocks away from his destination. Inside his pockets, he carried a couple of cigarettes and a Jolt, ready to spend a quiet night together.

Upon reaching his destination—your home—he stopped in front of the metal gates, knocking on the wooden door between him and the black iron bars with his fist. Resting his head against them, he wrapped his fingers around the bars, waiting patiently.

The door creaked as it opened slightly, and through the small gap, your eyes locked onto his tired, dark ones. A smile crept onto the taller boy’s face as your gazes met—he felt inmortal whenever you stare at each other like that.

Every time he saw you, he felt like he was losing his grip. You were the only reason he had to keep going. The only part of his day he actually enjoyed was the moments he got to see you, hold you.

You fully opened the door upon realizing it was Hyunjin on the other side, quickly fumbling with your keys to unlock the gate and let him in. As soon as the gate swung open, he rushed inside like lightning, crashing his chest against yours in an embrace full of warmth. He rubbed his head against your hair, messing it up even more.

Closing the gate behind him, he gently pushed you against the still-open wooden door, trapping you even further between his arms, whispering affectionate words in your ear.

You both stepped inside your dimly lit home. At that hour, you had already been asleep—until his knocks woke you up. You knew it was Hyunjin. He always showed up at this time, claiming he was too busy during the day. He never told you what kept him so occupied.

He took your hand, intertwining his long, pale fingers with yours, pulling you down the hallway toward your room. It was as if this were his own home—he walked through it with such ease and confidence.

Once inside your room, he let go of your hand and went straight to the window, opening it to let the fresh breeze flood the four walls. Meanwhile, you walked to the other side of the room, turning on the small lamp on your nightstand, filling the space with a warm glow.

He sat cross-legged on your bed, pulling his hood down and reaching into his pocket, taking out a hand-rolled joint. You sat across from him, watching his every move intently. It felt like déjà vu—this same scene played out nearly every night.

Flicking his metal lighter open, he lit the blunt, the tip glowing orange as he inhaled. The paper burned, turning to ash, as he passed you the Jolt, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that quickly filled the room with the unmistakable scent of weed. It wasn’t your favorite smell, but over time, you had grown used to it, learned to tolerate it.

The night went on like that, passing the joint back and forth until it was finished. The room was now heavy with the lingering scent of weed, faint wisps of smoke still hanging in the air.

Both of you lay on your backs, staring up at the gray ceiling, laughter spilling from your lips for no reason at all. Your hands were intertwined over the messy, wrinkled sheets.

Hyunjin always got loose-lipped when he was high, so he couldn’t stop the words forming in his mind from escaping.

"Everything feels easier with you" he suddenly muttered. It wasn’t a secret that he believed that. It wasn’t something he never thought he’d say, either. He just didn’t think now was the right time—he would’ve preferred to say it when he was sober. But at that moment, he couldn’t help himself, just like he couldn’t help but feel that simply being with you, seeing you for even a few moments, made all the sadness drain from his body.

Your brain struggled to process a proper response, so instead, you tightened your grip on his hand, propping yourself up on your elbow before leaning in to press a soft kiss against his cheek.

Outside your window, birds began to chirp—a sign that the sun would soon rise. Taking it as your cue, you reached over and switched off the only light in the room, silently letting Hyunjin know it was time to get at least a few hours of rest.

He lay beside you, both of you facing each other under the covers. You could feel his body heat so close to yours. He reached out, gently tracing his fingers over your face as if you were made of porcelain, as if he might break you with just his touch. He felt like, little by little, he was.

"Your bed is so big" he whispered, a quiet chuckle slipping past his lips, his voice raspy from the smoke. His eyes, now soft with affection, were locked onto you. "There’s always room for me to become a squatter in it."

Faint rays of sunlight began creeping through the window behind him, casting a golden glow over the room—and over your bright, glistening eyes. They reflected the morning light like magnifying glasses, making the glow even more intense.

Slowly, your eyelids fluttered shut as sleep took over. Hyunjin inched closer, wrapping you in his arms, resting his chin atop your head, inhaling the faint scent of your shampoo mixed with the remnants of weed. Even with your eyes closed, to him, you still shined under the sun’s rays. To him, you always shined.

You brightened his days, but he believed he darkened yours. He didn’t know whose fault it was, but it was no one’s more than his . The guilt weighed heavy on him—he felt like he was dragging you down, ruining you. And he knew you’d never admit it, even if it were true.

That feeling was like a dagger lodged in his stomach. The words he had bottled up no longer felt enough to express what he truly felt—to make you understand that the only thing of value in his life was you, and yet, he was slowly destroying you. Everything he touched, he ruined. And he was so tired, so exhausted from that realization. He could no longer balance the scales of fate. Everything was against him.

Hyunjin didn’t sleep for more than half an hour. His thoughts kept swirling, overwhelming him, keeping him awake—even while holding onto his safe place.

He trembled slightly as he held you, thinking about how, from the very beginning, he had condemned you to fall into a dark pit with him. You had been so kind, so full of light when he first met you. Why did he have to drag you into this? Into weed, into drugs. He knew he had never forced you—you had chosen it yourself. But still, he couldn’t stop overthinking it.

He wanted to change fate—change his fate. The fate that had led him to meet you. He would never regret knowing you. The thought of not having you terrified him. If he wasn’t with you, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about death—his death—twenty-four hours a day.

Feeling you stir in his arms, he lowered his gaze. Your eyes were wide open, staring at him, a small smile playing on your lips.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked quietly, keeping the intimate atmosphere untouched.

"A while. But you seemed lost in thought, and I didn’t want to disturb your peace" you answered, yawning at the end of your sentence.

Disturb his peace? You didn’t realize how many nights you brought him relief? How much he lived for the crazy stories you told him when you were high together?

"You could never disturb my peace, pretty girl," he murmured, a weak chuckle escaping as he pressed a soft kiss to your dry lips. "Actually… thanks for all the days you stayed."

Hyunjin confessed in a near whisper. He knew you had talked about this before, that you didn’t like when he feared you’d leave. But he could never thank you enough for saving him.

"Don’t say that. I’d never leave your side, no matter what," you whispered, tightening your embrace, letting your warmth seep into him—letting him know that you’d always be there.

For some reason, Hyunjin really liked that your doorbell didn’t work. It seemed to intrigue him, almost like a thrill, making him wonder if you were home, if you’d hear his familiar knocks on your front door. If you were waiting for him.

And there he was, once again, standing outside your house after a rough day, hoping there was still space in your bed to crash for the night—because he loved being a squatter in your bed, in your room, in your home.

In your life.

His intrusive, wicked thoughts—the ones that made him question whether his own mind was on his side—would never truly leave him. But when he was with you, the storm in his head mostly cleared, making way for the ray of sunlight that you were to him.

As long as you existed, he would never leave. No matter how much he wanted to disappear, he would stay. You had never rejected him or pushed him away, despite all the darkness that surrounded him, so he made a promise to himself.

As long as you and he existed, he would protect you from whatever he could—even if he couldn’t protect you from himself, he would try his best for you and only you.

[nabipumpum]

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒆?ᵍⁱˢᵉˡˡᵉˣʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

At any (party) place, your eyes always look for a person: Aeri. She always notices, you know she loves to have all your attention on her.

Pairing - Aeri Uchinaga X fem!Reader

Genre - fluff?, a slight suggestive

Warnings! non idol au!, kisses, mention of drink, swearing, english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes. W.C.: 1.222

æspa masterlist

The music thumped loudly inside your chest, the bass vibrating on the floor as the colorful lights illuminated sweaty faces and full glasses. You didn’t know whose house it was — maybe a friend of a friend, or someone who simply decided to open the doors and let the night happen. But that didn’t matter. Not when your eyes were fixed on her.

Aeri.

She was on the other side of the room, leaning against the kitchen counter with a red glass in her hand, an easy smile playing on her lips as she spoke to Jimin. Her dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her leather jacket half-fallen, revealing the thin strap of her blouse.

You looked away too quickly when her eyes met yours.

Shit.

“You’re terrible at this.” Minjeong’s voice came from beside you, full of amusement. “If you’re going to stare, at least be more discreet.”

You snorted, bringing the glass to your mouth, even though you didn’t really want to drink.

“I’m not staring.”

“No?” Yunjin laughed, throwing her arm around Ryujin, who just raised an eyebrow, already used to the group’s teasing. “Then why does it feel like it’ll evaporate if she looks again?”

You rolled your eyes, but felt the heat rise up your neck. Of course they had noticed.

The problem was that Aeri seemed to have noticed too.

Because, in the next instant, she left Jimin talking to herself and started crossing the room.

Towards you.

You froze.

“Oh, shit…” Minjeong whispered, clearly enjoying your desperation. “This is it.”

Aeri stopped in front of you, still holding the glass, the corner of her lips curled in an almost provocative way.

“What you looking at, babe?”

Her smile was pure defiance.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You could say you weren’t looking. You could lie, pretend indifference. But with Aeri, that kind of thing never worked.

So instead, you held her gaze and smirked.

“You already know.”

Her eyes sparkled, and for the first time that night, she was the one who looked away.

The smile on Aeri’s lips grew slower, almost lazy, as if she was savoring the moment. You felt the weight of her attention on you, and it made your throat dry a little.

Beside you, Minjeong held back a laugh. Yunjin and Ryujin just watched with amused expressions, already waiting to comment on every detail later.

Aeri tilted her head slightly, as if she was evaluating you.

“I already know, huh?” Her voice was soft, but full of mischief. “So tell me… what exactly do you see?”

She was testing you. Playing with you.

And the worst part? You liked it.

The alcohol in your bloodstream made your tongue looser than it should have been. Instead of hesitating, you just smiled and took a step closer, closing the space between you.

“I see someone who likes attention.” Your voice came out firmer than you expected. “And who would love for me to tell you how much I’m staring.”

For a moment, Aeri blinked in surprise. But then her lips curved into a half smile.

“Interesting…” She leaned forward a little, close enough for you to smell her perfume—a mix of vanilla and something woody. “So tell me… are you going to keep just staring or are you going to do something about it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Behind her, Jimin watched the scene with a satisfied smile, as if he had already expected this to happen. Minjeong almost choked on his own drink.

Aeri never played to lose.

And, in that moment, you realized there was no way out.

Holding her gaze, you tilted your head slightly, letting the tension in the air stretch for a second longer.

“That depends…” you murmured, your voice a little lower. “Do you want me to do something about it?”

Aeri bit her lip, her eyes shining with defiance.

“Why don’t you try and find out?”

And that was when the party around you disappeared.

You didn’t know if it was the booze, the loud music, or just the effect Aeri had always had on you. But before you could think too much, your hand was already in hers, gently pulling her away from the noisy crowd.

Behind you, Minjeong let out a “Holy shit,” and Yunjin let out an incredulous laugh.

But you didn’t hear anything else.

Because when Aeri laced her fingers through yours and followed you without hesitation, all that mattered was what was coming next.

The cool early morning air made your skin crawl as you stepped out of the house. The music was still thrumming inside, muffled by the closed door, but out here, in the dark, damp garden of the night air, everything seemed quieter.

Aeri stopped in front of you, the dim streetlights reflecting in her eyes. Her smile was teasing, but there was something else there — something thick, charged with the electricity that had been hovering between you all night.

“So…” She teased, her fingers still intertwined with yours. “What did you bring me here for?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just slowly let go of her hand, sliding your fingers through hers to your wrist, feeling the cold skin beneath your touch.

Your gaze dropped to her mouth.

“You know what for.”

Aeri’s eyes flashed with something undefined, and then she took a step forward, closing the distance between you. Her scent, warm and slightly sweet, made your breath hitch for a moment.

She didn’t hesitate.

Grabbing your jacket, Aeri pulled you firmly, and your lips met urgently. The first touch was like an electric snap, hot and intense, as if you had both been waiting for this for too long.

Aeri sighed against your mouth as you slid your hands to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened in an intense rhythm, her lips moving against yours in a perfect mix of teasing and desire.

Her fingers moved up your neck, tangling in your hair before tugging lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. You moaned against her mouth, feeling her smile in response before nibbling on your bottom lip.

The air grew heavy around you.

Aeri pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw before pulling your face back to hers. The next kiss was even deeper, hungrier, as if she wanted to feel every part of you.

You let yourself go.

The world around you disappeared—the distant noise of the party, the cold wind, even the notion of time. All that existed was the way your bodies fit together, the way her fingers tightened on the back of your neck, the way the heat between you contrasted with the cold breeze of the early morning.

When you finally pulled away, your lips red and your breathing quickened, Aeri smiled against your mouth, her eyes shining.

“So that’s why you always stare at me?”

You laughed, still tasting her on your mouth.

“It was worth the wait.”

She bit her lip, pretending to think, before tugging on his jacket once more.

“Let me make it really worth your while.”

Oh my, this was going to be an interesting night.

[buckysouvenir]

friends

pairing: bucky barnes x y/n authors note: day two! yay!

the valentine’s day collection 2025: for the first 14 days of february, i’ll be posting a series of short stories inspired by songs, all centered around bucky barnes.

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

You’re on the other side of the room, laughing at something he said. Your hand rests lightly on his arm, and he leans in just a little too close. Bucky watches it all unfold from where he stands, jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the glass in his hand.

He shouldn’t care. He tells himself that over and over, but the words feel empty.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

His patience has been wearing thin all night. He came here with no expectations, but the second he saw you, it was like a switch flipped inside him. Every moment, every stolen glance, every late-night conversation—it all meant something. Didn’t it?

But here you are, with someone else. Like none of it ever happened.

“All your girlfriends are wasted.” Sam’s voice cuts through his thoughts as he comes up beside him, nodding toward your friends, who are deep in conversation, half-drunk and oblivious. “And you look like you’re about to punch a hole in the wall.”

Bucky exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

Sam gives him a look that says he doesn’t buy it. “Yeah, sure.”

He tunes Sam out, gaze locked on you. Every part of him is telling him to walk away, but then you finally notice him. Your eyes widen just slightly before you smile—like nothing’s wrong. Like he isn’t standing there, heart pounding, wondering what the hell he even was to you.

You make your way over, leaving the guy behind without a second thought.

“Bucky.” Your voice is soft, almost hesitant. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugs, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Didn’t think I’d find you with him.”

Something flickers across your face, too fast for him to read. “It’s not like that.”

Bucky lets out a humorless chuckle. “Really? ‘Cause it sure as hell looks like that.”

You shift on your feet, and for the first time tonight, you look uncertain. Good. Because he’s been drowning in uncertainty since the moment he saw you with someone else.

“What the hell were we?” he asks suddenly, voice quieter now, but no less intense.

You blink, caught off guard. “Bucky—”

“No,” he cuts in. “Just tell me. Were we just friends? Because it doesn’t make any damn sense, but if that’s all it was, just say it.”

You don’t answer right away. And that silence? It’s louder than anything you could’ve said.

His chest tightens. He exhales sharply and takes a step back. “I get it.” His voice is rough, strained. “I should’ve figured.”

“Bucky, wait—”

But he’s already turning away, already deciding that whatever this was—whatever he thought this was—it’s over.

And he’ll be fine without you.

Right?

#taglist: @cjand10

[letmebeyourcrrsh]

the echo of his broken heart

idol!jeongin x reader

warnings: mention of hate, angst?

tell me if there is more-

genre: breakup

summary: you are dating the one and only maknae of stray kids. you two had been in a happy and healthy relationship for very long now.. until suddenly the internet was filled with pictures of you two…

You never thought you'd be here. Never thought the day would come when you'd have to walk away from him. The man who made your heart feel whole.

Jeongin was your secret—your calm in the chaos. You never wanted the world to know about your relationship. It was yours and his, tucked away in a quiet corner of the universe. The late-night phone calls, the stolen kisses when no one was looking, the soft promises to always be there for each other… That was enough. It was always enough.

But nothing stays hidden forever.

It was one photo. One innocent moment. You were both at a small café, tucked away in a quiet corner, laughing at something he had said. It was like any other day. However.. A fan saw. A fan snapped a picture, and from that moment, everything shattered.

At first, it was just curiosity.

“Is this real?” “Who are they?”

People wanted to know. But soon, the floodgates opened, and the hate followed.

They don`t deserve him. They’ll ruin his career. They’re just using him. They dont even look good next to him? ew. Bet they are only there for the money.

Jeongin tried to protect you at first, tried to deflect the hate, tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. But you saw the pain in his eyes. You heard the exhaustion in his voice when he called you late at night, asking how you were holding up.

It hurt him. And it hurt you.

The once peaceful love you had shared started to feel suffocating. You didn’t want to be a part of the world that was judging you, tearing apart your life for the mere crime of loving someone who happened to be famous. But you knew that as long as Jeongin was by your side, you could endure it.

But then came the threats.

They started slowly—comments on his posts, DMs flooding his inbox. It wasn’t just hate anymore. It was fear. The " fans " were relentless. They told him to end it with you before things got worse. They said if he cared about his career, he would choose them over you. They said you weren’t good enough for him, and that you would bring him down.

And then the worst part came.

The messages you received. The ones that told you to leave him. The ones that told you to disappear. They weren’t just cruel; they were dangerous. They said they knew where you lived. They said they knew everything about you.

Your life became a nightmare.

You wanted to fight back, to scream at them that they didn’t know you, that you weren’t some kind of villain. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk his safety. You couldn’t risk your own.

And in the quietest, darkest part of your heart, you knew what was coming. You knew this couldn’t go on.

It was the night after a particularly ugly comment had gone viral. Jeongin called you. His voice was low, almost robotic, as if he had rehearsed these words a thousand times in his head.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

You already knew what he was going to say.

“I think... it’s best if we end this,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

Your chest tightened. You had been expecting it. You had known it was coming. But hearing him say the words felt like a knife twisting in your heart.

“No,” you whispered. “Please, Jeongin. We can’t just let them win. We’ll figure this out. We can make it through.”

He was silent for a moment. And then, you heard the deep, painful exhale of a man who was already broken inside.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I can’t see you like this. You’re scared all the time. You’re hurting, and it’s because of me. You don’t deserve this. You deserve peace. You deserve a life that isn’t filled with hate and threats.”

Your tears began to fall silently, as if your heart knew the end was coming even before your mind could process it.

“Jeongin,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I don’t care about the hate. I care about you. You’re worth every bit of pain. I just want to be with you.”

He was crying now, and his voice was barely audible as he responded, “I love you so much, Y/N. I always will. But the truth is… I’m not enough to keep you safe. I can’t protect you from this. I can’t let you drown in a world that doesn’t care about you the way I do.”

Your world felt like it was crumbling. All of the love you shared, all the quiet moments, the dreams you had together—they were slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t stop it.

“Please… don’t ask me to walk away,” you begged, your heart breaking with every word. “I can’t do this without you.”

But he was already shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. You’re everything to me, but I can’t be the reason you lose yourself.”

There was no more fight in him. No more hope in his eyes. Just sorrow. Just resignation.

And so, you did what you had to do. You said goodbye. The words felt empty as they left your lips. They were hollow, unable to fill the space between you two, because the truth was, neither of you wanted this. Neither of you wanted to let go.

“I’ll never forget you,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I promise.”

You wanted to say the same, but it was too much. The tears clouded your vision as you turned away, walking out of his life with the weight of everything you couldn’t change.

And as you walked away, all you could hear was the echo of his broken heart, calling your name in the distance.

[slut4hee]

You Got It Bad For Me

{Paring: Fwb Yunho x Blk Fem! Reader

Genre: smut, fluff? toxic relationships, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: When you and Yunho first started fucking around with each other, you both came to an agreement for helping each other out strictly sexually, with no strings attached. But lately your heart’s been craving more, you think you’ve fallen in love with Jeong Yunho….

{Warnings: explicit scenes, rough sex, unprotected sex, make up sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, backshots bc duh Yunho is an ass type of guy, dirty talk, pet names, jealousy, Yunho is lowkey toxic, they get into a heated argument a little physical on both ends, lmk if missed anything.

—————————————————————————

The soft hum of the shower running, was the only noise that could be heard in your quiet bedroom. Yunho was currently taking a quick shower, he had just gotten off work, exhausted from the overtime shifts he’s been putting in lately. This was the only time you and him were able to see each other, at night when he comes straight from work to your apartment, shower and you guys fuck.

This was an everyday routine for the both of you, you guys working early in the day, and then tangled in the sheets by night. But lately you’ve found yourself craving for more, you want to see him during the day, bring him lunch to work, go on dates with him, to call him your man.

Of course you and him agreed to just fucking, you and him being on the same page that you both weren’t ready for a relationship. But things has changed, well at least for you it has, you developed feelings for him or maybe you’ve always liked him. The buzzing sound coming from Yunho’s phone, on the nightstand startled you a bit, being that you were starting to get deep into your thoughts.

You knew peeping through his phone was totally privacy invasion, and a complete breach to your friends with benefits only relationship, but you couldn’t help your curiosity to whether he was sleeping around with someone else or not. You looked at the bathroom door, it was slightly ajar, but the water was still running meaning that Yunho was still shower.

Once you saw the coast was clear, you grabbed his phone off the table, opening up his screen and seeing a bunch of messages notifications popping up on his phone screen. Yunho didn’t care to have a password on his phone, being that he is a single man and he trusts you not to invade his personal space, and because of the agreement you guys have.

Little does he know you’re breaking that trust right now, you could feel your throat going dry and your heart beating out your chest, as you read through messages between him and other bitches, but what really had you fucked up was the message between him and this girl name Kiara. It was the week before, Yunho had told you he wasn’t going to be able to make it tonight, because he wasn’t feeling well.

Of course you were a little sad that you weren’t going to be able to see him, but you also understood that he wasn’t feeling well so you decided to not be selfish and let him get some rest. Only to find out he blew you off, to go fuck on some hoe name Kiara?! You were furious.

You threw his phone to the side of the bed where he sleeps, as you set up straight with your arms folded across. You didn’t even notice the water had stopped running, until the bathroom door opened, and Yunho’s tall figured appeared with a white towel covering his bottom half, and his chest bare as water droplets slowly ran down his toned torso.

You almost forgot why you were mad at him, the unholy sight of his being half naked, as he dry off his hair with another white shower cloth. But your anger quickly returned when you remembered reading all the messages between him and other women. Yunho walked over to you, his tall figure towering over you, as he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead.

You didn’t even react to the kiss, instead you just glared at him, not saying a word. Yunho frowned at you before asking what was wrong with you.

“What’s wrong baby? You not feeling well?” He questioned, as he sat next to you on the bed. You quickly got up, and sat on the other the bed, scoffing at him as you mumbled some not so nice words. He quickly got up as well, but this time standing over you, as he leaned down to be height level with you.

“Mind telling me why you’re acting weird tonight?” He said confused, he wasn’t used to you acting this way with him, it was all so foreign. You rolled your eyes at him and smacked your teeth before you started to chew his head off.

“I don’t know Jeong Yunho, why am I acting weird tonight? Huh?! Maybe it’s because you’re a lying piece of shit” You huffed, your chest heaving and down, as you let your anger out on him. Yunho looked at you with the same confused but you could see he was starting to grow irritated.

“What? Lying? When did I ever lie to Y/n, stop being fucking ridiculous right now” He said in a irritable tone, as he stood up and ran his fingers through his damp hair, his muscles tensing at the action.

“Oh really, so you didn’t blow me off Friday night, to go fuck on some bitch name Kiara Yunho?!” You stood up, facing him as you clenched your fist together, charging him up and puffing your chest against him. His jaw clenched, and he ran his hands through his hair again but this time more intensely as he process your words.

“YOU WENT TROUGH MY FUCKING PHONE Y/N?” He shouted at you, looking down at you with an angered and irritated expression. You glared at him even more for yelling at you, tightening your fist even more, as you fight the urge to slap him in the face.

“YOU DAMN RIGHT I DID, AND FUCK YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?! NOT A FUCKING THING” You screamed back at him, pushing at his chest as you release all your pent up anger and emotions. Yunho grabs your hands from pushing at his chest and jerks it away from him.

“Who gave you the right to go through my goddamn phone Y/n, that’s called privacy invasion” He said through gritted teeth, trying to calm himself down, as took a seat on the bed running his hands down his face annoyingly.

“Oh please don’t give me that shit Yunho, if I never would have went through your phone motherfucker, I wouldn’t have found out you a lying ass bitch” You shouted at him, standing in front of him as you pushed at his chest again. Yunho stood up, sizing you up, as he got all in your face, you could feel the rage radiating from his big slender body.

“You watch how you fucking talk to me, you going to talk to me with respect do you understand me goddamnit?!” He screamed in your face, his chest heaving up and down, as he was fuming with anger. Your lips wobbled, as tears started to prick at your waterlines, you pushed past him before as you walked away and retreated to the other side of the bed.

You brought your knees up to your chest, hugging them as you started to sob, letting the tears finally fall. Yunho let out a frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face once again before walking over to you. He stood in front of you, before getting down on his knees and rubbing soothing circles on your exposed thighs, being that you were only dressed in your short nightgown that covered little to nothing.

You swatted his hand away, before turning away from him telling him to leave you the fuck alone, but of course he didn’t leave you alone.

“Y/n come on baby, can we please just talk this out like adults, instead of fighting like children” He said softly but sternly, you didn’t say anything back instead you kept sobbing, letting out all your tears you’ve been holding back. Yunho hated seeing cry, of course he had every right to talk to other females, being that you two weren’t together but it still made him feel shitty to see you crying over him like this.

“Sweetheart please look at me, please talk to me I’m begging you, I’m so sorry I lied to you baby girl” He said gently, grabbing ahold of your legs and pulling them apart, as he slotted himself between your legs and pulled you into his embrace. You caved and surrendered to his touch, as you laid your head on his shoulder, still crying and shaking.

He rubbed your back in a comforting manner, whispering apologies to you, and telling you to stop crying. You pulled your head from his shoulder, and looked at him, your eyes puffy and red from crying. He cooed at you before kissing your lips softly, and rubbing soothing circles on your thighs again.

“I’m so fucking sorry baby girl, let me make it up to you princess, let me make this right” He whispered into your ear, as he laid soft kisses on your neck.

୨ৎ

“Oh fuck! Oh yes Yuyu right there!” You moaned loudly as Yunho was eating your pussy like a starved man, your legs were spared nice and wide for him, as he devoured your sweet wet pussy like no other.

“Am I making you feel good princess, you like when daddy eats your pretty little pussy huh?” He smirked against your puffy wet folds, going from flickering to sucking on your swollen clit. Your legs were shaking with pure ecstasy, as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes daddy fuck! You’re going to make me cum all over your face oh my god” You whimpered, your body heating up from the intense feeling of pleasure, Yunho was truly the pussy eating king, he was such a munch, he could literally stay buried between your legs all night and dat if he could. He pulled away from your pussy, before spitting directly on it, and sliding one of his long digits inside your tight little hole, and going back to sucking and abusing your clit

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your legs trembled violently, as you reached your high, squirting your arousal all over his face and body. You felt your legs go numb, your ears ringing as you tried to calm down from the intense orgasm you just had. Yunho was leaving a little trail of kisses down your plump thighs, and he whispered words of appreciation and affection towards you.

You barely had time to recover before Yunho was manhandling you around, putting you on all fours with your face down, and your ass up. You bit your bottom lip, as you wiggled your ass, enticing him to hurry and fuck you hard. Yunho enjoys fucking roughly, and at first when you two first started hooking up, you didn’t care too much for rough and hard sex. But ever since Yunho put it on you, you can’t have it any other way, always being a good little slut for him, letting him beat your poor little pussy up.

“Fuck baby, pussy so hot and ready for me, I know she fucking misses me, isn’t that right little one? You miss daddy’s big cock inside you” You whimpered as delivered a slap to your pussy, talking to it as if it was a person. He rubbed his fat mushroom tip between your drooling folds, teasing you before he absolutely murders your pussy.

“Yuyu! Fuck me please, fuck me so hard daddy” You whined, pleading with him to stop teasing and get on with it, before you could protest again, you felt his thick cock breaching your tight little cunt, you felt like you were being ripped apart but I such a good way.

“Oh shit baby, oh fuck pussy so tight goddamn” He groaned, not wasting any time, already starting to pound into you. You gripped the sheets tightly, biting down on the pillow, as you take Yunho’s brutal strokes. His cock was huge, and hits the right places, causing your pussy to clamp down on his throbbing dick like a vice.

“Yes baby! Please don’t stop fucking me Yuyu, Oh god you fuck me so good” You screamed out loud, throwing your ass back at him, as you meet his thrusts half way. He grunts deeply, smacking on your asscheeks, as he fucks you into the mattress, completely destroying your insides. You could feel yourself getting close to your high for the 2nd time tonight, the band in your stomach threatening to snap any minute now.

“Fuck daddy, oh Yunho I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum” You said desperate for your release, the sounds of skin slapping, the bed creaking violently, and your uneven breaths echoed throughout the apartment, you’re pretty sure your neighbors weren’t too happy right now.

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and cum on daddy’s dick, if you do I’ll give you a little reward by filling you up with my cum sweetheart” He whined, he could feel himself tipping to edge as well, his strokes becoming sloppy and erratic. Finally he hit that spot that makes you act a fucking fool, you cried out as your body went limp, collapsing on the bed as you came hard around Yunho’s dick.

His body collapsed with yours, as he fucked you through your high, as he chased his. The intensity of your pussy squeezing and milking his cock for what it’s worth, had him cumming hard inside you, thick spurts of white milky cum shooting deep inside you. You both were panting, chest heaving up and down, as you both come down from the intense highs.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, pulling you on top of him, not caring how his cum is leaking out of your pussy, onto his bottom half. You both laid in silence, staring into each other’s eyes, as you exchanged a wordless conversation. Yunho kissed your lips softly, before softly saying

“𝐈 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈’𝐦 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐘/𝐧”

The End….

A/n Gasp! “Omg Slut4hee actually posted” ik ik I’ve been Mia 🫣 I can explain I been in my sad girl era!😓🤮 but I’m slowly getting better okay! But omg I just had to cook something up for you guys after seeing that get ready with me TikTok Yunho posted god! I’m so obsessed with him all jokes aside 😀 but I hope you enjoy this little drabble as much as I did🫶🏽 reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! Not proofreading shii homie😌

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Taglist:

@i03jae @ataver @ancnymcnzjy @kolawnk

[jiminomenon]

what if a colleague of karina starts taking interest on assistant! reader 😩😩

good question.

from my series: the devil wears prada

it started out as something harmless.

one of jimin’s colleagues—perhaps a fellow model, someone just as rich and well-connected as she was—took an interest in her assistant. in y/n. maybe it was because of the way she handled jimin’s impossible demands with a straight face, or the way she carried herself, always so composed, so unshaken by the chaos that surrounded jimin’s world. or maybe it was just because they found her attractive.

whatever the reason, it began subtly. lingering glances, offhand compliments, the occasional teasing remark whenever jimin wasn’t around.

“you know, jimin’s lucky to have you,” the model—let’s call him jaemin—said one evening at an industry event. y/n had been standing off to the side, watching over jimin’s things while she mingled with people far above her pay grade.

she glanced at him, slightly wary. “lucky?”

jaemin grinned, charming and effortless. “yeah. you put up with her. do you know how many people would’ve quit after the first month?”

y/n chuckled. “i try not to think about it.”

he tilted his head, studying her with open interest. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you outside of work. do you go to these things often?”

she shook her head. “only when i have to.”

“shame,” he mused. “i think you’d enjoy them more if you weren’t stuck babysitting.”

y/n huffed a laugh, glancing toward jimin, who was deep in conversation with a designer. “i don’t mind.”

jaemin raised a brow, amused. “really? she’s that good of a boss?”

y/n hesitated for a fraction of a second. “she has her moments.”

he smirked. “so that’s a no.”

before y/n could respond, a voice cut in.

“is there a problem?”

jimin.

her tone was neutral, but there was an edge to it—one that made jaemin’s smirk widen slightly, as if he had expected this. y/n straightened, suddenly feeling like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t, even though she had done nothing wrong.

“no problem,” jaemin said smoothly. “just getting to know your lovely assistant. you never introduce her to anyone, you know. it’s almost like you’re hiding her.”

jimin’s gaze flickered to y/n, unreadable. “she’s not here to socialize.”

jaemin chuckled. “right, right. just here to follow you around like a shadow.”

“exactly.” jimin’s smile was polite, but there was something sharp behind it. “if you’re done, i need her.”

jaemin held up his hands in surrender. “of course. wouldn’t want to get in your way.” he turned back to y/n, flashing her an easy grin. “see you around, y/n.

y/n gave him a small nod, unsure of what else to do.

as soon as he walked away, jimin grabbed her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to pull her a step closer.

“don’t talk to him,” she said— well, demanded lowly.

y/n blinked. “what?”

“jaemin,” jimin responded, jaw tight. “don’t talk to him.”

y/n frowned. “why? he was just making conversation.”

jimin scoffed. “he was flirting with you.”

y/n stared at her. “so?”

jimin’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly before she let go, expression unreadable. “just don’t,” she muttered, before turning and walking away.

y/n watched her go, confusion swirling in her chest.

because that almost sounded like jealousy.

the thought was ridiculous. it had to be. jimin didn’t care about things like that. she didn’t care about her like that... right?

yet, jimin’s words echoed in her head. don’t talk to him. her fingers still tingled where jimin had gripped her wrist, and for a moment, she wondered if she should just let it go. maybe jimin was just in a mood again.

but then, jimin suddenly stopped a few feet away. without even turning around, she spoke.

“well?”

y/n blinked. “…well what?”

jimin turned, looking at her expectantly, like she was waiting for something obvious. “are you coming?”

y/n just stared at her. “do i have a choice?”

jimin raised a brow, unimpressed. “stay by my side.”

y/n huffed. “or what?”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “if i lose sight of you, you’re fired.”

y/n let out an exaggerated, dramatic eye roll. “oh, please.”

jimin only tilted her head, waiting.

y/n exhaled through her nose, reluctantly closing the distance between them, falling into step beside her.

jimin, satisfied, didn’t say anything more.

but the way she held herself, a little more at ease now that y/n was back where she belonged, didn’t go unnoticed.

[casedclosedbye]

Braiding the lines

Spencer reid x reader

Oneshot

Fluff

Wc: 2k

Summary: A thought popped into your head, and before you knew it, you were standing and walking toward him. "Hey," you said, surprising even yourself, "can I braid your hair?" Spencer blinked, his eyebrows quirking in that way that made him seem both completely puzzled and oddly intrigued. "My hair?" he repeated, as if it was a foreign concept.

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan, and the faint rustling of pages turning in a well-worn book. You sat on the couch, curled up in a blanket, your legs tucked under you, eyes scanning a page of your own novel—though your focus was slipping. Your mind kept wandering to the figure across the room, Spencer Reid.

He was sprawled across the armchair in the corner of the living room, his head tilted down as he focused on his book. A faint light from the lamp on the side table illuminated the sharp lines of his face, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, and the intensity with which he read. He was always like that—so lost in whatever he was doing, so absorbed in his thoughts.

You shifted slightly, a thought flickering in your mind. It had been a while since you'd spent an evening like this, just the two of you, no case looming, no FBI emergency. Just quiet time together.

Finally, you set your book down, the decision made. The soft clink of your cup as you placed it down on the coffee table drew his attention. Spencer looked up, a soft smile forming on his face when his eyes met yours.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, his voice quiet, but that familiar edge of curiosity to it.

"Actually... yeah," you said, glancing at the pile of notes and books he'd accumulated in his space. "I was thinking… maybe I could braid your hair."

Spencer blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion, though there was no real hesitation in his expression. "My hair?"

"Yeah. You've been letting it grow out a bit, and it's getting a little long. I could braid it for you... If you want. It seems like it could be kind of relaxing."

A surprised laugh escaped him, but it was genuine, more of a chuckle than anything else. "I’m not sure I’ve ever had someone braid my hair before," he admitted, running a hand through the mess of curls on his head. "But, I mean… I guess it could be a good way to wind down. I don’t mind."

You could sense his quiet curiosity about the idea, and as you moved to sit next to him on the armchair, the tension in his shoulders seemed to soften. You reached for his hair, fingers brushing against the slightly damp strands, noticing how it seemed to have grown longer since the last time you’d really paid attention to it.

"Alright, let’s do this." You grinned. "No going back now, Reid."

Spencer chuckled softly again, then leaned back in the chair, allowing you to settle behind him. There was a moment of silence, and you could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, his muscles relaxing as you began to run your fingers gently through his hair. You knew he was always a bit more sensitive to touch than most people, and it made you focus even more carefully as your hands slid through the strands, smoothing out any tangles.

"How does it feel?" you asked after a moment, pausing to check in.

"Good," Spencer murmured, his voice soft, almost sleepy. "It’s… kind of soothing, actually."

"Glad you think so. You're so tense sometimes, I figured this might help."

A quiet silence settled in as you continued working through his hair, weaving your fingers through it in slow, practiced motions. You had braided your own hair for years, but doing it for someone else felt different. It felt like you were giving a little part of yourself over, offering something intimate. You’d noticed how Spencer tended to avoid touching his hair too much, almost as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it when it wasn’t in its usual disheveled state.

"Why don't you let it grow out more?" you asked after a few minutes, as you delicately sectioned off his hair, separating it into three strands. "It suits you. The curls are kind of… charming."

He huffed a laugh, a small, self-deprecating sound. "Charming? You’re just saying that."

"No, I mean it," you replied with a small smile. "It makes you look… I don't know, kind of mysterious? Like a mad scientist, but in the best possible way."

"Mad scientist?" he asked, sounding slightly amused, but also intrigued. "I’ve never been called that before."

"You’ve got the whole eccentric genius thing going on, I think," you said, your fingers working with his hair, weaving the sections more tightly together. "It suits you. And this," you added with a light tug, "definitely suits you."

There was a long pause as Spencer processed the comment, and for a moment, you thought he might say something in response. But instead, he just sighed in contentment, his body relaxing even further as your fingers continued their slow, rhythmic movements.

"Maybe I should grow it out more," he said, after a moment, as if considering the possibility.

You smiled. "I think you'd look good with longer hair. More people would probably notice you too."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, as if debating that. You focused on finishing the braid, working quickly and efficiently, now that the first few sections were in place. His hair was a little longer than usual, so it took a bit more time to manage. You kept your hands steady, not wanting to rush.

"Do you think I care if people notice me?" Spencer’s voice was quiet, but there was something thoughtful about it, something more vulnerable in the way he asked.

You paused, considering his question, realizing there was more behind it than simple curiosity. You hadn’t been sure if Spencer, with all his intelligence and the depth of his mind, cared much about things like appearance. He wasn’t someone who placed importance on being seen, or at least, that’s how it seemed.

"I think," you said slowly, "it’s not so much about whether or not people notice you. It’s about… well, whether you notice *yourself* sometimes. You’re smart, Spence. You do incredible things, but I think you forget to take care of the little things. Like letting someone braid your hair, or noticing that your hair’s a bit longer than you thought."

His lips curved into a smile, but there was no teasing in his expression—just a quiet acknowledgment.

"Maybe you're right," he said, his voice quieter now, like he was mulling over your words. "Maybe I should let people take care of me more."

You finished the braid, the end of it hanging neatly against the back of his chair. Gently, you tied it with a small elastic band you found in your bag. There was something oddly satisfying about the simple act, about taking care of him in this small, tender way.

"All done," you said, leaning back to admire your work. "How does it feel?"

Spencer reached up to touch the braid, his fingers brushing over the smooth, neat sections. "It feels… surprisingly good," he said, the surprise in his voice almost amused now. "Like I’m a little more put-together than I usually am."

"Good," you said, smiling. "It’s nice to see you relaxing a bit."

Spencer gave you a small, genuine smile in return, his eyes softening as they met yours. "Thanks for doing this," he said quietly, as if the gesture itself meant more than the words conveyed. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this… Just sitting here with you."

The moment between you both lingered for a while, a quiet connection, a soft warmth in the space you shared. The apartment felt even quieter now, the buzz of the world outside fading into the background, replaced by the subtle rhythm of your breath and the shared understanding that sometimes, it’s the small things that bring people closer.

[sunnydbeam]

I love Alpha and Beta so much, and I absolutely ship them! I'm sure they would look really cute together if Beta wasn't so scared of Alpha </3

I also wondered what Alpha would do if he had the chance to get close to Beta without fears

I have to say, honestly, I'm glad there are people who ship them too, because I have several sketches and drawings of these two that I may share at some point hehe

On the other hand, yes, Beta is afraid of him, and that's a problem. He's the only reason Alpha usually doubts himself, and he's the only one that Alpha really bothers to seem as friendly as possible with

That doesn't mean Beta is always running away from Alpha. He's often nervous in his company, but if he needs help with something, he'll most likely ask for it (after much thought), and Alpha will be happy to oblige! Any hint of trust is everything to him

Alpha wishes he could comfort Beta 《more often》 in his anxious moments without making him even more nervous. It depends mostly on how “cooperative” Beta is at the time. Alpha will usually approach slowly and feel him out; if Beta doesn't flinch from the first moment, he will decide to approach quietly, crouching down beside him and still keeping some distance

Some asked earlier what Alpha would do in this kind of situation when it comes to comforting someone, and this is his procedure across the board!

I can't draw at the moment, so have a lil fluffy drabble!

Word count: 1k+

CW: slight mentions of anxiety. This is a Gamma Code concept and may contain spoilers for the fic. This is also not checked, so may contain spelling/grammar errors. Hurt/Comfort. Mild angst. Fluff. SFW

__________

It’s like a switch flipping on. A little sound, fragile, like a muffled sob, catches his attention. His head snaps toward the source, body pivoting on his heels with the faint squeak of rubber soles. Instinct kicks in. He moves, silent, careful.

Alpha peers through the crack of the slightly open door, and what he sees makes something inside his mechanical body twist, like an internal static crackle, a sharp overheating in his chest. If he had a heart, it would lurch. But he hides it well.

His red eyes glow faintly in the dim light as they scan the room. No one else is here, just his little sweet Beta curled up on the floor in the corner of the near-empty white room, hugging his knees. The overhead lights are dim, but the muted glow catches on the edges of Beta’s purple rays, barely visible beneath his yellow hood.

Alpha doesn’t blink. He watches with cold, calculated stillness, only for his expression to quickly shift, softening into something both fond and quietly resigned.

Beta is overwhelmed again, burying his face in his knees, shaking like a leaf in the wind. His frame curls inward, fragile, trying to disappear. Scared.

Something inside Alpha fractures.

Every time he finds Beta like this, it shatters him. It makes him want to reach out, to cradle him close, press him to his chest, and hold him there until the tremors subside. Until the fear melts away. But it’s hard when, most of the time, he isn’t allowed to get close at all.

His metaphorical heart clenches painfully. Beta always pushes him away. The reasons are obvious. Alpha is painfully aware of every single one.

He steps forward, then hesitates. The serpentine mechanical arms on his back remain still—calm, unthreatening, and he moves carefully, testing the waters. Beta doesn’t flinch too much, only tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment.

It’s a good sign.

Alpha waits. Longing to approach but unwilling to impose. Beta makes no sound, doesn’t pull away. He sits there, unmoving, eyes downcast.

That has to be permission.

The red robot moves closer, and his large frame is silent. He lowers himself to the floor beside Beta, carefully, knees together in an almost formal posture, leaving just enough space between them. Not too close. He doesn’t want to overwhelm him.

The silence is heavy.

Alpha glances at Beta from the side, taking in the soft glow of his purple rays, mostly hidden beneath the folds of his hood.

Alpha parts his lips but hesitates. Then, quietly—

“What’s overwhelming you, Beta?” His voice is low and measured. “Can I help?”

Beta doesn’t answer. He shifts — just a little movement — turning his head slightly between his arms and knees. Just enough for Alpha to catch the glimmer of one visible blue eye.

Silence.

Beta trembles. Not much, but enough. A clear sign that Alpha’s presence unsettles him. But he doesn’t move away, and that’s good.

Then, softly, hesitantly — Beta speaks.

“It’s just… today’s tests were too much,” he whispers. “I don’t think I did well. And they got mad at me.”

Alpha’s fingers twitch. His voice drops, sharp.

“Did they hurt you?”

Beta flinches, and his shoulders jump slightly. Alpha’s tone had come out harsher than intended. He forces himself to suppress the rising tension in his system.

“N-no…”

The energy within Alpha stabilizes. His body cools.

“You can’t do anything wrong,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, soft, almost as if thinking aloud. “You’re perfect.”

Beta looks up, startled and confused. A deep, luminous purple blush blooms across his face before he hurriedly looks away, shoulders curling inward.

“Wh… Why would you think that? Sometimes I feel...” His voice stammers. “… useless.”

Beta finally meets Alpha’s gaze, and freezes.

Those red eyes. Watching. Wide. Bright.

A strange light flickers behind them. Something unreadable. Something Beta never quite understands.

“That’s not true,” Alpha says. “And you don’t have to serve them.”

Beta’s circuits buzz with uncertainty.

“… Isn’t that our purpose?” he whispers. "The reason we were created? To please them…?”

Alpha shifts closer. He leans in, reaching slowly, hesitantly, gloved fingers brushing the edge of Beta’s cheek.

“They don’t get to mold you,” he murmurs. “They don’t get to define you.”

His voice is calm and steady.

“What humans think doesn’t matter. You are you. Quiet, timid, sweet in a way only you can be.” A pause, a flicker of warmth, then he says tenderly. “And you’re cute and perfect just like that.”

Beta’s blue eyes widen. His hands twitch against his knees and he starts shaking.

“I wouldn’t change a thing.”

It’s ironic to him to say when, sometimes, he loathes himself so much.

I wish I could be like you, he thinks. A strange pressure coils in his chest plate. He ignores it.

Beta’s gaze lowers. He looks like he might cry. His lips part, trembling, but the words catch in his throat, faltering into incoherent murmurs.

It’s… adorable.

Alpha’s fingers twitch.

“… Can I hold you?”

Beta doesn’t answer right away. He hesitates, then —slowly, barely — nods.

Alpha doesn’t waste a second.

He moves carefully, pulling Beta into his arms, wrapping all four around him, pressing him close.

A tiny, glitchy sound escapes Beta’s vocal system. His hood slips down, and his rays coming out in surprise.

Alpha loves those vibrant rays.

“Shh… It’s okay,” he whispers, one hand stroking Beta’s back. “Everything’s okay.”

His grip tightens, just slightly.

It feels unreal. Holding him finally.

He never wants to let go.

“You’re okay. You’re strong. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Without thinking, he shifts, pulling Beta fully onto his lap. Beta stiffens, startled, but doesn’t resist. He stays still. Shy.

Alpha processes the moment, his system adjusting to the unexpected warmth in his circuits. It feels… right.

“Please,” he breathes, his voice softer now, “don’t be afraid of me anymore.”

His eyes slip shut. His face presses against Beta’s shoulder.

His fingers move, trailing over Beta’s rays, mapping their sharp edges with care, no fear, no hesitation—just gentle reverence. His touch is light. Loving. Worshipping. Adoring.

He's pleased when Beta relaxes slowly.

Alpha presses closer. The sensation of Beta against him is grounding, steadying. Alpha doesn’t care that his frame wasn't built for this. He wants to hold him. It’s comforting.

Alpha adores him too much. And it almost hurts.

Beta’s presence is all he has.

And it’s more than enough.

“…Please,” Alpha whispers, barely audible, “no more fear.”

_______________

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY FOURTH; side a — about you - the 1975 | d. lizewski x reader

w; dave & r is aged up (both in their twenties!), ‘old flames’ (really just best friends - who have lost touch but still remember everything about one another - to lovers) reunite, i sort of change the story about his dad (he’s still kick a—!) an; i had to change up his dad’s story about getting beaten </3 for the plot to work. i hope no one minds and everyone enjoys at least!!!!

mixtape here!

Your chin rests in the palm of your hands as your eyes glance around the restaurant, fingers slowly tapping against the table as you let out a small sigh. Leaning back, your eyes look down at your phone to check the time and to see if any messages have suddenly appeared. 

Nothing. And an hour late. 

Rubbing your forehead in embarrassment, you stand from your chair and ignore the looks from the many people who sit together with a stupid little red rose and stupid little candles. 

Slipping on your jacket, you quickly grab your clutch and make your way out of the restaurant without a single word to anyone. It’s eight now, and you’d gotten dressed up for nothing. 

You’re aimlessly walking around now — not quite ready to go home, yet not quite sure where to go either. 

Until you’re met with the sight of the familiar comic shop that you used to go to regularly with friends. You don’t go as much anymore — if you do, it’s strictly for a family member’s birthday or to stop by and get coffee, and maybe look to see what all has changed. 

Which, nothing has. It’s a bit brighter inside with new paint and new lights, but other than that, nothing else has changed. Stepping towards the counter, you smile at the teenager behind it. “One iced caramel latte, please.” 

She nods, putting in the order. “Anything else?” 

Glancing over at the case of pastries, you point at a muffin. “A blueberry muffin as well, please.” The girl nods once again, entering it before telling you the price. Handing over the cash, plus a tip for her being so nice — and for working on the suckiest holiday of the year — you step away after telling her your name. 

You walk slowly around the collection of comics, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips. You wished you could go back to being a teenage girl — who had been constantly considered ‘weird’ — even if that meant figuring everything out once again. 

Part of you thinks that, maybe, if you would have the chance to go back, there’s a lot more you would’ve changed. Maybe admitted to others. 

The wave of nostalgia almost knocks you off your feet from the nausea it gives you suddenly. Shaking your head, you pick a superhero that you always gravitate towards — Spider-man. 

You pick up your treats from the counter and make your way towards a table, slipping into a booth and laying everything out before opening the comic book. 

You forget how much the silly little things can pull you in — you hadn’t realized the numbness in your legs, or that the ice in your drink had now melted, watering down the coffee and droplets had left a ring around it. 

Or that someone was in front of you. 

“I see you still get pulled into the pages.” 

Startled, you blink a couple of times and quickly look up at the man who stands in front of the table. Lips parting, your heart drops. “Dave?” 

He grins and nods. “The one and only.” 

Laughing slightly, you slip out of the booth and quickly pull him into a hug. “Oh, my god. Look at you!” You pull away, your hands gripping onto his biceps. “Your…hair! It’s gone!” 

He lets out a small chuckle. “And I hit puberty, finally. So you can’t laugh at me anymore about my squeaky voice.” 

You make a face at that. “Sorry about that.” 

“It was all done in fun,” His brow lifts slightly. “Wasn’t it?” 

“What? Of course it was,” You nod quickly, flushing under his gaze. “I’d never intentionally make fun of you.” 

His demeanor slightly falls before he lets out a soft chuckle. “I know that. I was only teasing,” His eyes fell into the red dress that you’d picked out specifically for today. “Hot date?” 

Looking down at the dress, you tug at the material. “No. Stood me up so I just left,” You shrug a bit. “It was embarrassing walking out to say the least.” 

“He stood you up? There’s no way,” He lets out a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Whoever it is, is clearly missing out.” 

“You’re just saying that.” You roll your eyes, collecting your trash so he wouldn’t catch onto the redness that caught your cheeks aflame. 

“I’m being serious!” He watches as you toss the items, picking up the comic book. He follows behind you, lips pursing a bit before clearing his throat. “Let me take you out.” 

You stop abruptly, causing him to stumble into your back, his hands quickly shooting out to stabilize himself on your arms. “What?” 

“Would it be so weird?” He shrugs as you turn to face him. “You’re already dressed up. Plus, we were best friends,” Your eyes drop down to the ground at that. 

“You can let me take you out on one date. Then you can pretend I never exist again.” 

You frown and quickly look at him. “Dave, I could never forget you,” You shake your head, pinching your brows together. “You were…” Trailing off, your heart skips a beat in your chest as your eyes linger on his blue ones. 

“You were special to me. We just…fell out of contact, is all.” 

Dave nods and glances at the comic in your hand. He reaches out and slowly pulls it from your hand, slipping it back into its designated spot before holding his hand. “Then let me take you out. Just this once.” 

Glancing down at his hand, you place yours into his. He smiles and grips your hand softly, pulling you towards the door without a second thought. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, curiously. If he were to lead you blindly into a burning building, you don’t think you would’ve cared. 

He glances over at you, a small smile pulling at his lips as he shrugs. “For me to know.” 

“And for me to find out.” You sigh playfully, shaking your head. He chuckles and comes to a stop. 

“Wait here,” You watch as he jogs back, confused but you do as he had said, looking around at the busy street and sidewalk, smiling a bit at the loud laughter and singing coming from all around. 

Dave comes back five minutes later, hands behind his back. You turn and lift your brows, tilting your head. “Alright…you’re worrying me now.” That has him chuckling. 

He pulls his arm from behind his back, your smile dropping slightly as you stare at the flowers in his hand — that just so happens to be your favorite. 

He clears his throat a bit. “I remember you saying something about liking these. And I needed to start the date off right.” 

“I said those were my favorite in middle school, Dave—”

“Do you…not like these anymore? I can go and—”

You quickly cut him off. “No. I mean, yes. I still love them. I’m just…” You let out a small laugh, truly in awe about how he even remembered such a small detail about you. “I don’t know how you remembered those were my favorite.” 

He scratches at the side of his neck, shrugging. “I just remember.” 

You smile and gently pull them from his grip, the brown paper crinkling in your hands. “Thank you,” You stare at the petals before your eyes lift and meet his. “I can’t remember when the last time I got flowers was.” 

Never. 

The answer was simply never. No boy — or man, now — has stopped to get you flowers as a simple gift. Not that it’s a necessity to bring flowers to a date, but taking the time and showing you care… 

It’s something that, now you can admit, can make a heart skip a beat. 

He smiles softly and nods. “Yeah…” He clears his throat as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Of course. Yeah. I just…I thought it’d be nice.” 

“This was very nice,” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip slightly, the action having his blue eyes drop for a second before looking back up. “Well, Lizewski, lead the way.” 

He smiles a bit and nods, beginning to walk down the sidewalk, your feet following beside him. 

After a couple of moments, he stops abruptly and turns towards you, causing your brows to pinch together in confusion as you look over at him. “Are you—”

“Close your eyes,” He nudges his chin towards you. A small playful smile spreads over his lips when he notices how confused you look at the request. “Just do it.” 

“You aren’t going to—”

“No,” He laughs softly, knowing what you were going to ask. Taking a step over to stand in behind you, his hand grazes your arm as he turns you a bit. Sighing, you give in and allow your eyes to slip shut. You suddenly feel his hands covering your eyes as well. 

“Is this really necessary?” 

“Yes,” His voice is soft and your breath hitches from how close he truly is. “Trust me.” 

You’re rendered speechless only for a moment before you quickly nod. “I do.” 

He smiles softly, allowing you to lead the way as you follow his instructions blindly. “…Okay, stop,”

Your movements cease and you feel the warmth of him disappear — slightly disappointed. “Open.” His voice is now coming from your left side. 

Your eyes slowly open, adjusting a bit to the change of lighting. Your lips part in surprise before a smile tugs at your lips. “It’s still here?” You look away from the treehouse, instead looking at Dave. 

He smiles and nods. “Of course,” He motions towards the house he grew up in. “Dad left the house to me in the will.” 

Your smile slowly fades, shoulders dropping slightly. “James died?” 

He nods a bit. “Sadly, that’s the only reason I’m back,” He clears his throat. “But after cleaning everything out and putting the house on the market—”

“You’re not staying?” 

He stares at you for a moment before shaking his head hesitantly. “No. I’m going back home.” 

I’m going back home. 

It’s not much of anything, but the words have your heart twisting in a painful way and your eyes drop towards the flowers as you nod slightly. He would be leaving you — again. 

But you will not be selfish. Even if you want to. 

“Alright, let’s climb up and see what we used to hide away, shall we?” 

Your eyes lift and a small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth but never fully expands to anything more. You nod and walk towards the tree, placing your flowers onto the chair next to it before crawling up the ladder. 

Pushing the door open, you push yourself up and crawl inside before standing and dusting off your legs. Looking around, the wave of nostalgia is suddenly hitting you once again, almost knocking you back onto the ground. 

Stepping closer to the carving you’d once done, your fingers trace over the initials, a small laugh leaving your lips as your head tilts. 

“Oh, god,” You quickly look over your shoulder, noticing the box Dave was holding. “The green and yellow suit.” You let out a laugh when he holds it up, shaking it a bit. 

You cover your mouth when you notice the look he gives you. “Sorry.” You quickly apologize. 

“You laughing at the super suit?” 

“Uh,” You glance at the suit that he holds in his hands once again, before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” You let out another laugh. He smiles and rolls his eyes, grabbing the mask from the bottom and tosses the box onto the wooden ground. 

He steps over and tugs it down on your head, grinning. “Mhm,” He nods. “You do look like a dork in this.” 

“Ha-ha. Funny,” You roll your eyes, despite the smile that remains glued onto your face. You tug the mask from your head. He lifts his hands and quickly fixes the strands of hair that had covered your face. 

You gulp quietly, feeling the pad of his thumb brush over your cheek as he does so. “Thanks.” 

He nods and pulls his hands away, now turning and sitting down on the small dusty blanket in the corner. Your face scrunches a bit when he does. 

He pats the spot beside him wordlessly. You make your way over and sit next to him, the mask still in your hands. Thumbing the material, you lean your head back on the wood. 

“Are you still…?” 

He bites his cheek slightly before nodding a bit. “I’ll always be,” His eyes linger on the mask in your hands. “Even if I’m not actively out and saving people like I used to when I was a…teenager — God, a teenager,” 

He lets out a small sound of disbelief as he shakes his head. “A part of that is still with me. No matter how much I kind of wish it wasn’t.” 

You nod in understanding. “You got hurt. A lot.” 

“That I did.” He smirks a bit — though, it’s not an amused one. 

You debate on what you're about to say. Tell him now and regret it later. 

Or never say anything and still regret it. 

Inhaling deeply, you will yourself to calm down before speaking. “I thought that first time — when you went into the hospital and your dad called me — that I had…” You pause. You can feel his eyes on you now, rather than the mask in your hands. 

“But, when I came to visit you, you were okay,” You smiled a bit with a nod. “That calmed me. Then, long story short, I found out why you’d ended up in the hospital,” 

You look over at him. “I remember asking you to stop because I didn’t want you to get hurt or worse,” He nods a bit. “You told me I didn’t understand and I never would. Then, Katie and you became a thing and suddenly…you’d listened to her,”

He frowns and looks away quickly. “I’m not mad about it. I mean, at first I was — because I had been your best friend and I thought maybe you’d listen to me, yet you just kind of shrugged me off. But when Katie asked you, you had no problem with the idea,” You shrug a bit. “I was also just a teenager trying to…navigate my feelings. I got angry at you, more than I probably should have.” 

“You never…told me. Or even showed it.” 

“That’s because I loved you, Dave,” He quickly looks back at you. You give him a weak smile and quickly look away when you feel the upcoming tears suddenly tingle and prick at your eyes. You laugh at yourself airly, shaking your head. “And that was a hard thing to feel because I was so…confused. I had never felt that way towards anyone before,” 

“And I was trying to figure out why I would keep letting you in when you’d get hurt and…” You’re now regretting dredging up the past. Because that’s exactly where it’s supposed to stay — in the past. “And I finally figured out when you had left without even really saying anything to me. Not that you had to, because I understand why you wanted to leave, but it still hurt all the same.” 

Dave blinks a couple of times at your words but remains staring at you as he does so. He clears his throat, mouth opening and shutting a few times before only saying; “You loved me?” 

You nod your head. “Yeah. Of course,” You tuck your hair behind your ear and finally place the mask down on the blanket next to you. “It wasn’t just because I grew up with you, it was just because it was…easy,” You shrug. 

“It was easy to love you and I always thought…” You trail off, eyes cutting towards the side to glance out the small window. 

“Thought what?” He asks softly. 

“I had always thought you and I both would’ve…ended up together,” You lean your head back. “It’s a bit silly now to say, especially when I know you had never viewed me that way back then. It was just the typical white fence, big wedding, two kids, type of dream I had.” 

“Why do you think I never thought of you in the same way?” He shakes his head. 

“Oh, come on,” You let out a small scoff, looking over at him. He genuinely looks confused and you lift your head from the wall. “You had gotten Katie. Katie, Dave. You would’ve never gone after someone like me.” 

“That’s not true,” He sits up, pointing towards you. Your brows lift slightly. “That is so not true. I used to try to get you to go on dates with me all the time.” 

“Asking if I wanted to go to the movies — like we always did, might I add — was not asking me on a date,” You let out a small laugh. “Especially if Todd and Marty were joining,” 

He frowns and looks down. You sigh and drop your hand on top of his. “Dave, it’s okay. Really. It’s over now and—”

“Do you still feel the same?” He cuts you off quickly. You stare at him as if you had imagined him saying it. 

After a moment of silence and a slight, silent urge of lifted brows, you speak. “I-I mean…” You purse your lips, your heart beating in your throat now instead of it staying where it needed to stay. 

“I don’t think loving someone ever comes to an end,” You shake your head. “Especially after loving them for so long.” 

Dave stares at you silently for a moment before surging forward and catching your lips with his, his hands cradling your jaw. The initial shock wears off quickly and your fingers are finally wrapping around his wrist gently. 

He slowly pulls away, still staying close where you could feel his breath brush over your lips and the top of his lip graze your own. 

“Did that just—”

“Yeah.” He cuts you off with a whisper. 

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Teenage me is screaming,” You whisper. He snorts, pressing another soft kiss against your lips before the corner of your mouth. “But you didn’t have to do that.” 

He pulls his forehead away from yours, tilting his head a bit. “I wanted to,” He nods. “I’ve always wanted to. I was just too scared to put myself out on the line for you. But I should’ve.” 

“You should’ve,” You nod, leaning into his hand the remains on your cheek. “Are you still going to leave?” You whisper. His eyes remain on yours, a small smile on his face. 

“I think I found a reason to stay.” 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @pretty-little-mind33 — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[callsign-mimic]

Chapter five had such a sweet, wholesome ending, didn't it? Let's add some filth :3

CW: NSFW, MDNI, Omegaverse, Alpha Rut, Omega Heat, Blood and Violence, Knotting, Poorly Written Smut

Chapter Six/Final Chapter

Saint paced restlessly in their room, trying to figure out what to do. The rest of the 141 had shipped out on a mission two weeks ago. Leaving Saint behind to watch over Mimic as she continued to heal from her injury.

The boys were supposed to be back in time for Saint's rut. But the mission had gone sideways. Gotten complicated. The target managing to slip away at the last moment. And now the four Omegas were stuck on an entirely different continent.

Leaving Saint with only Mimic, the newest member of the pack. Who was still recovering from a punctured lung.

Saint had assumed that their first rut with Mimic in the pack would involve the whole pack. As their ruts always have in the past. Meticulously planned to make sure that every Omega was available to help work their Alpha through their rut. But with the complications on the team's mission, and now return date in the near future...

Would Mimic be able to handle it?

She had been spending most of her days dozing, often on the couch with her head resting on Saint's thigh. Their fingers gently threading through her hair as she purrs quietly. Not that she wasn't diligent about her physical therapy and keeping up with her workouts. But she seemed quite content to rest near her Alpha, purring almost constantly.

A knock on the door pulls Saint from their thoughts. They almost answer without thinking before realizing they had burned through their neutralizer. A soft voice comes through the door, making the Alpha pause as they reach for the bottle of neutralizer on the bedside table.

"Alpha? Everything alright?" Mimic asks, concern evident in her tone. It wasn't like Saint to leave her alone for too long. Not while she was still recovering from a knife to her lung. A knife that now hung in a shadow box mounted on the wall above her bed. Much to Price's annoyance.

She sniffs at the air, catching a faint scent that smells amazing. A scent that becomes much more potent when Saint opens their door and looks down at her with that familiar, warm gaze. She realizes it's the scent of her Alpha, leaning in slightly to catch another whiff of that mouth-watering scent that makes her whole body flush with an almost familiar feeling.

"Be out in a minute." Saint says, gently patting the top of her head. The sound of their voice combined with the physical contact and that scent sends a shiver down Mimic's spine. As the door to Saint's room closes again, she's left feeling confused and oddly warm.

Saint notices the change in Mimic's demeanor over the next couple of days. She becomes clingier, keeping as close to Saint's side as she can. Her usual patience morphs into irritability with others.

And her scent is considerably more noticeable.

Odd. Could she be...? Saint starts to think, only to immediately brush off the thought. Mimic hadn't had a heat cycle in three years due to the physical trauma that had resulted from her fight with Monroe. She couldn't possibly be in pre-heat now.

Could she...?

The moment of clarity comes when the two of them are on the training grounds, watching over the newest batch of recruits. Mimic had stopped wearing her collar once she had been fully integrated into the pack. After all, it's not like she was ashamed of her scars. And her scent was barely noticeable unless someone already knew it.

Or, that's how it had been up til this point.

A young Alpha sidles up to Mimic, sniffing at the air around her. She looks at him with one eyebrow raised as he leans in slightly, a wolfish grin on his face.

"Hey there, pretty thing." The young man croons, getting a little too close. "What's a gorgeous little Omega like you doing out here with us so close to your heat? Shouldn't you be nesting? Preparing for your Alpha to take care of you? Or do you not have an Aplha to sate a pretty thing such as yourself?"

He inhales deeply, pointedly, his eyes sparkling with barely contained lust as his voice drops slightly. "Cause if you're in need of an Alpha, then I am more than willing to help."

Normally, Mimic would just break the guy's nose and pin him to the ground with her boot on his throat til he apologized. Being an Omega didn't mean being weak or soft. A point she had made many times since her initial arrival. But she was thrown off by the young Alpha's words.

Heat? Sure, she had been feeling a bit weird lately, in a vaguely familiar way. Definitely warmer than usual. And she had been nesting, hadn't she? Her bed covered in clothes she had pilfered from the rest of the pack while they were away.

Well shit...

The young Alpha gets closer, reaching out to brush his fingers against her cheek as she stares at him in astonishment.

"I have an Alpha." She says curtly, catching his wrist and giving it a warning squeeze.

"Oh?" He asks with a smirk, clearly not believing her. "Do they know you're out here and unattended?" He tries to pull her closer, laughing when she bares her teeth. She considers showing the overconfident idiot his place. It would be so easy to twist his wrist just the right way until she heard that satisfying crack of bones breaking. But she thinks better of it.

The recruit was clearly too confident for his own good, and would likely try to fight back, broken wrist be damned. And Mimic had just had her stitches removed two days prior. If she tore open the fresh scars in a fight with a stupid recruit, Doc would ream her a new asshole. And that old man was the type of person who didn't view punishing idiocy as a violation of his hippocratic oath.

Mimic pulls away from the young Alpha with an annoyed huff, walking wordlessly over to where Saint had been keeping a silent watch over the situation. She rubs her face against her Alpha's chest with a grumble, then climbs their body. Perching on their shoulders and staring at the young recruit with disdain.

The action makes Saint's heart skip a beat. A clear sign that she fully trusted the Alpha that she had once been so skittish around.

A sign of trust that she was showing to her pre-rut Alpha.

Something she had a damn good reason to want to avoid.

Saint turns their gaze to the new recruit, their grey eyes locking on the young man as their lips curl back in a snarls. Visible through the bars on their muzzle. Their low growl of displeasure reverberates through the young Alpha's chest, and sends him running back to join the rest of the recruits.

The ambient noise of the training grounds is drowned out by the sudden sound of Mimic's purring. She melts into Saint's touch as they gently remove her from their shoulders.

"Alpha..." She murmurs, tucking herself close against Saint's side. They wrap their arm around her tightly, her purr vibrating through their very core as they lead her back to the den.

"Settle." Saint rumbles in response, steering her toward their quarters. They pause outside the door and look down at her. She looks back up at them, pupils blown wide and lips slightly parted. Ready. Eager.

Willing.

After a moment of thought, Saint opens the door to their room. As they follow Mimic inside, they reach up and unfasten their muzzle, taking it off and setting it on the dresser. They wanted to taste her. Had to taste her. And they couldn't do that with the muzzle on.

They reach for the case holding their bite guards, when the of Mimic keening softly snaps their attention over to the small Omega. She was standing by the bed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Chewing on her plump lower lip and twisting and tugging at the hem of her shirt. Her pale cheeks tinted a soft shade of pink, eyes averted.

So clearly needy. So obviously desperate for the attentions of her Alpha. And still so hesitant to actually ask.

Saint was on her in a heartbeat, practically tearing her clothes off as their mouth found hers. They pull at their own clothes, discarding them as quickly as possible. Needing as much skin contact with the needy Omega as they could manage. Trailing their kisses down her jaw, Saint buries their nose in the crook of her neck. Nuzzling against the scarred flesh.

Her scent was overwhelming. Almost intoxicating in its intensity. Her mangled scent glands working in overdrive from the sheer intensity of her long overdue heat. Saint nips at her neck, bit guard forgotten on the dresser, and relishes in the sound of her soft moan.

Her body is so soft and supple under the Alpha's lips and hands as they trail kisses down her body. Pliant and willing as Saint settles between her plush thighs. Fuck, but they could drown in the scent of her arousal if she'd let them. They nip and lick at her inner thighs, leaving blooming marks on the pale skin until she's whimpering and squirming.

"Alpha... Please..." Mimic mewls, already breathless and panting from their teasing touches alone. She doesn't need to be anymore than that. The two words being enough to make Saint bury their face against her glistening cunt. Lapping at the sensitive flesh with their tongue and groaning at the taste of her.

It was enough to make their last thread of control snap completely.

The sound of Mimic's moans, gasps, and keening whimpers spur Saint on as they eat her out like she was their favorite meal after days of starving. Their claws dig into the flesh of her hips, drawing pinpricks of blood.

The coppery scent makes Saint pull away from her sweet, needy pussy to bite at her inner thigh. Licking at the blood that slowly welled up in the wound. The taste of her blood combined with the taste of her sweet cream was enough to make the Alpha's head swim.

Saint kept alternating between eating her out and biting at her thighs until she finally reached the peak of her first orgasm. Her back arches off the bed, fingers twisted in the sheets as the pleasure crashes over her with all the force of a tsunami. Saint's name spills from her lips in a sharp cry, sounding like a sinful prayer. The Alpha pulls back, replacing their tongue with two fingers, working her through her release.

They lean over her, licking their lips as they watch her face while she comes down from her high. Pale blue eyes glazed. Porcelain skin flushed a pretty pink. Plush lips slightly parted.

A stunning vision beneath them. Just like the rest of their Omegas when sated. Saint kisses her deeply, letting her taste herself on their tongue as they remove their fingers from her slick folds. Mimic whines at the loss, soft and needy. Watching Saint as they slot herself between her thighs, their own arousal pressing against her entrance.

The Alpha struggles to control themself as they slowly sink into her eager heat. Letting her body accommodate to their size before they start to move. They watch her face for any signs of distress, attentive even as their rut starts to completely take hold. Finding none, they finally let themselves go, giving in to the overwhelming desire of their rut.

The obscene sound of skin slapping skin fills the room. Punctuated with grunts, moans, growls, and whimpers. Saint isn't gentle, their control having given away to animalistic need. And Mimic, so sweet in her submission, so lost in the throes of her heat, relishes in her Alpha's aggression. Her claws rake down Saint's back, leaving thin lines of blood in their wake as she's brought to another earth shattering orgasm. The sensation making the Alpha growl and bury their face in the crook of her neck.

Her scent, which had once been so faint that they almost couldn't detect it over the rest of the pack, was now potent enough to overwhelm their senses. They could feel their knot start to swell. The idea of locking into her, of breeding her, makes their mouth water as they lick a stripe up the side of her neck.

Saint's orgasm finally hits with Mimic's third, the force of it clouding their vision as their knot locks them together. They bite down on her neck. Teeth piercing through the scarred skin with little resistance.

A proper mark.

A blatant claim.

"Mine." Saint growls, staring at Mimic with an intensity that bordered on obsessive. She stares back up at them, her eyes glassy and unfocused. But she doesn't object to the Alpha's claim. Doesn't balk or try to fight it. Instead melting into their touch as they lap at the bite to soothe it.

The taste of her blood is pure ambrosia. Hell, just the taste of her in general. She was just as addicting as the rest of their Omegas. A perfect fit for the Alpha.

Saint keeps rocking their hips gently. The time waiting for their knot to deflate filled with kisses, groping, and murmured praise. And the only rest either of them would be getting through the combined cycles of their rut and heat.

~*~

Four days later, the rest of Task Force 141 returns from their delayed mission. Exhausted and ready to rest, the four of them pause once they step foot in the den. The whole place reeks of Saint's scent.

And Mimic's.

And blood.

"Alpha's rut..." Gaz says quietly, dark eyes widening. "We missed it..."

Price is already moving. Following the scents as they get stronger until he's standing outside Saint's room. He listens intently, the silence from within making anxiety claw at his chest. Even an Alpha with as much control and patience as Saint risked losing all control during rut.

What if they had hurt Mimic? The smell of blood was unmistakable here.

Price steels himself as he slowly opens the door and peers inside. The sight that greets him is Saint asleep in their bed. With Mimic dozing peacefully on their chest. There's a blanket haphazardly thrown over the both of them. But enough of Mimic's skin is exposed for Price to see the scratches and bruises all over her body.

And the claiming bite on her neck.

"Alpha." Price calls, his tone low. Cautious. Ghost appears in the doorway as the Captain makes his way into the room. Saint stirs, grey eyes opening slowly at the sound of their Omega's voice. A low rumble comes from their chest, rousing Mimic.

She sits up slowly, looking around and spotting her pack members. She flashes Ghost and Price a sleepy smile as they walk closer to the bed. Leaning into Price's touch as his fingers brush the skin just under the bite that was still slowly oozing blood.

"Alright, luv?" He asks, still quiet. He chuffs when Mimic nods, looking over at Saint as they exhausted Alpha starts to sit up. "We should get you two cleaned up and get some food in you. I'm assuming neither of you has eaten in days."

Saint runs a hand through their hair, the dark locks still messy and damp with sweat. They grumble quietly as Price gently picks Mimic up and looks her over. He's surprised to see a second claiming bite on the other side of her neck. This one already scabbed over and starting to heal. Meaning the bite that was still weeping was newer. Likely having happened that morning.

He also finds several, more shallow bites along the insides of her thighs. On top of the scratches and bruises littering her pale skin. Mimic lets out a contented sigh. Nuzzling against Price's neck and purring softly as she starts to doze again.

"No worse for the wear, I see." He says with a chuckle. "Ghost, help our Alpha get cleaned up. I'll get our sweet Mim patched up. Then we'll see if we can keep them both awake long enough to eat."

Ghost nods, turning to Saint as they swing their legs out of the bed. Their eyes trail over to Mimic as she purrs in Price's arms. A faint smirk grazing their face. The bites on her neck would heal into visible scars, despite the gnarled tissue they had bitten through. Anyone who saw them would know she was claimed.

Would know she was theirs.

A part of their pack

@readingforaneternity Here you go, babs. Mimic climbing Saint. A nice parallel to the first chapter, no?

[art-missy]

Cheng Xiaoshi described himself as a cuddly individual. You, you preffered using the term 'clingy'. It was a fact barely acknowledged by himself, sighed by Lu Guang and ridiculed by Qiao Ling. You on the other hand, almost suffered because of it. He had so many ways of being clingy that you were done counting. He always had to have a physical contact with you and for that, he had many techniques.

There was the casual but classic arm around your shoulders when in public, your waist when in private. It was a way to pull you closer, he would also often share a warm smile with you.

There was the arms wrapped around your waist followed by his chin on your shoulder or the top of your head. He often did that when he felt sulky, when he was trying to convince you or when he felt like watching whatever you were doing over your shoulder.

There was the lovely head on your shoulder when he felt slightly tired or on your lap when he was sleepy. He kept saying that you were his best pillow. There were also times when he pulled you on top of him for a nap. In these moments, he called you his comforter or his Teddy Bear.

So many different ways to have you in his arms.

You were used to his touch, to his arms circling your body and his excuses for more contact. Yet, you couldn't understand what idea emerged in his mind for you to be cradled in his arms like a baby while he was sat on the studio's couch. Your head literally was cradled in the pit of his elbow, and he was rocking you from side to side.

"Cheng Xiaoshi, what are you doing ?"

"Shhh," he hushed you softly. "Don't worry, I've got you."

You looked at him as if a second head grew on his shoulder and he just started singing a lullaby. You threw a begging look at Lu Guang who just walked out of the room, leaving you at your fate. The traitor.

"Cheng Xiaoshi !" you pinched his lips, quieting him. "Did you knock your head or something ?"

The light pout that appeared on his face would have make you melt if your cheek wasn't squished against his chest.

"I didn't."

"Then what's going on ?" you groaned, trying to pull away but he kept you firmly in his arms.

"You were sick and anxious all week !"

"And...?"

"And I've read somewhere that being cradle in someone's arms could lessen your anxiety," he explained, shrugging. "It relaxes me when you do it."

Your eyebrow raised at his explanation. As adorable as he might be in your eyes, his actions often met your skepticism. You were indeed very tensed these past few days. Attentive and worried, he didn't let you leave his sight and took great care of you.

"Are you sure it's not another excuse for cuddles ?" you sighed.

"Of course it is !" he exclaimed but lowered his voice when he felt you flinching. "But it's also necessary. I'll be your service dog, today."

And he rocked you gently from side to side again, his warm chest still pressed against your cheek. And you let him do. Cheng Xiaoshi was like that, taking great care of people he loved with a sunny enthusiasm.

[onlybeeewrites]

A Dance of Ash and Steel

Requested: No <3

Pairing: Oc!FemElara x ????, platonic!Azriel x oc!Elara

Warnings: blood, gore, violence, cursing, characters being assholes

A/N: Omg??? Bee’s posting again??? Yeah I read the entire ACOTAR series and have been itching to write so I hope you all enjoy! This is my first time writing for and original character so I really hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think! 

A Dance of Ash and Steel: Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Breathe.

Breathe. 

Breathe.

Breath.

The pain was hard to breathe through. More so than usual. That was saying a lot too considering she liked to believe she had a high pain tolerance. 

But the pain seeped into her bones like rain into the dirt. Soaking into her being and clinging to her bones with every movement. Every breath. Every heartbeat. 

Yes. She had trained for this. Prepared herself mentally for years. Trained to withhold her tongue. Trained to learn to just take it. To be the warrior that she was born for. To follow the instincts and unrest that flowed in her very veins. She was trained to take the pain and power through it before one of three options occurred.

Number one, she somehow finds a way out of there.

Number two, someone somehow realizes she’s been taken and somehow knows where she is to come get her out.

Or number three, death. 

The third wasn’t particularly her favorite option, but between the three choices? It seemed to be one the Cauldron was favoring. 

How long had it been? Weeks? It had to have been that at least. But she couldn’t tell. There was nothing in that Cauldron damned cell that would help her tell, or even hint. The only thing that allowed her to have an idea of time was when the autumn court soldier would come by with her food. Never anything substantial. Just enough food and water to keep her alive. 

She could feel the weakness of it effecting her. She could only a few days in after her first interrogation. It was the classic beating. The threats. Urging her to share what her High Lord has been up to. What her brother had been up to. 

But she didn’t utter a word. She hadn’t spoken a word, not to them. Unlike her smartass brother, Elara always knew when to keep her mouth shut. Though that always seemed to piss them off more. 

But it told her one thing.

Beron was paranoid. 

Why? She was still trying to figure that out. The concussion didn’t help either but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t matter what she knew if she couldn’t get out.

But that was the hard part wasn’t it? Her eyes could barely stay open those days. Exhaustion settling deep into her bones. Her wings, though cut up, they were still in tact, sagging behind her. Her dark hair matted, sticking to her forehead, covered in dirt and grime. 

Cauldron she really needed a bath. And Madja. And Rhys. Mor. Az. Cassian.

It wasn’t unusual for them all to be away for weeks at a time. Whether it be Cassian to the camps or Azriel when he would be away on a spying mission for Rhys. 

A pained breath left her cracked lips, her head rolling forward, her chin resting against her sternum. It had been hours since she had been fed. Almost a day. Maybe a day? 

Her mind was growing more and more cloudy each day. Weaker. None of it was good. The longer she waited. The longer she was held there the more difficult it would be to escape. 

Her hands flexed slightly against the chains that bound them at her sides. The same ones where her emerald green siphons would be. But those were taken too. Everything was taken. Her blades. Her two Illyrian daggers that were always at her waist; gifts from Azriel. And her Illyrian sword, Avisra; her gift from Cassian. 

She wasn’t sure where they were, but she wanted—needed—to get them back before she even thought about escaping.

It was times like this where she really wished she had some of Rhy’s fancy powers. And it was times like this where she hated it, but she felt completely helpless. Weak. And for once in a very long time….hopeless.

“For an Illyrian warrior…” a voice crooned, breaking the silence of the damp cell, and clearing the running ongoing thoughts that ran through Elara’s head, “I’m surprised it only took a few weeks to get you all broken and quiet like this,”

Her hazel eyes dragged their way up. Looking from the floor under her, all the way up to spot Eris. Heirs to the Autumn Court. And she wanted nothing more than to smack that stupid fucking grin on his stupid face.

“C’mon, little bird. Don’t you want to go home? I doubt you want to stay here with me for longer than you need to,” he taunted, walking across the cell to where she was bound to the stone wall. His hands were comfortably tucked in his pockets, his boots echoing off the floor.

Elara just glared at him. Hating him, first of all because she fucking despised the guy. And she didn’t forget what he had done to Mor; who had grown to be like her own sister. And just like Cassian, Elara became incredibly protective. So she gathered up whatever moisture was left in her dry mouth and *spat* at Eris and staring him down.

Eris’ amusement flickered away, like snuffing out a light. Quick and instant. He wiped away the spit before reaching up and grabbing her cheeks with his hand, causing her lips to pucker.

“I’m trying to help you get out of here. If you stopped being a stubborn brat you’d see that.” He growled before gripping her face tighter and letting go with such force, her hair jerked sideways.

“So I’m going to give you this one chance. I’m going to leave the door unlocked. And you’re going to have about….ten minutes before the next guards come for your interrogation. Good luck, little bird,” 

Eris turned on his heel stalking away from the Illyrian female. His expression blank, though Elara couldn’t see it. Though the last thing she saw was a wave of his hand, leaving the door open. 

And the next thing she knew she fell to her knees. Her torn leathers scraping against the cold and dirt stained ground. 

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she pulled her sore arms close to her. Her wrists red and raw. But free.She didn’t think twice after that, stumbling to her feet, she let out a groan as her body screamed in protest. Cuts, bruises, burns littered her skin along with grime and dirt and sweat.

She sure was a sight to behold.

She stretched out her wings, thanking the Mother that they were unharmed. A few cuts here, but nothing that would hinder her ability to fly. Her wings weren’t the biggest. And she may not have been the strongest. But by the Cauldron, she was fast. Faster than her brothers. And being fast was all that she needed.

Tucking her wings then tightly to her back, she waited for her vision to stop swimming before she moved through the dim corridors of the Autumn Court dungeons. Or at least what she assumed it was. 

Though before she could find a way out, she needed a few things. 

She needed her weapons. Her daggers, sword, and siphons. 

Barefoot, clad in torn leathers, she pressed herself against the cold stone walls, her every sense on high alert. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of blood—not hers, not this time. The guards would notice her absence soon when they came around and she needed to be long gone before then.

The hallway opened into a larger chamber, the dim torchlight barely cutting through the darkness. And there, at the far end of the room, she saw them.

Her daggers. Her sword.

Relief and adrenaline surged through her veins as she staggered toward them, ignoring the way her vision swam. 

Almost there.

But then, she stopped.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

The metallic scent of blood was stronger here, more pungent. It wasn’t just the lingering stench of violence. But was fresh.

Elara’s hand reached for the hilt of her sword, but she hesitated as her eyes darted around the room. And then she saw them.

The autumn court guards.

All three of them lay sprawled across the floor, their bodies still warm, throats slit cleanly—too cleanly. There was no sign of a struggle. No sound of a fight.

Just silence.

And then—movement.

The shadows stirred before she could react, curling at the edges of the room, slithering toward her like living things. Her body tensed, instinct screaming at her to *run*, but a familiar presence swept over her, dark and comforting all at once.

Elara turned sharply, her heart still hammering from the adrenaline.

Azriel stood at the other end of the room, his siphons glowing faintly, shadows swirling around his boots like a second skin. His scarred hands were relaxed at his sides, but there was a sharpness in his hazel eyes—a fury barely contained.

She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Az.” Her voice was hoarse, relief thick in the single syllable.

His gaze swept over her, assessing, calculating. He didn’t miss the bruises and raw red skin on her wrists, the cut above her brow, the way she swayed slightly as if her body was on the verge of giving out. Her usual tawny skin was now a concerning paler shade.

Then, with a single, slow blink, he said, “Took you long enough.”

Elara huffed a tired laugh, though the sound was laced with exhaustion. Her body now relaxing as she felt the security of her brother, “You could have gotten here sooner.”

Azriel stepped forward, his movements fluid, silent—always so damn silent. “You seemed to have things under control.”

She rolled her eyes, but when she went to grab her daggers, her hands trembled. Azriel saw it, of course he did, but he said nothing. Instead, he reached out, gently pressing one of the blades into her palm. The weight of it was grounding.

Elara tightened her grip around the hilt, her fingers flexing as she forced her breathing to steady. Now wasn’t the time to break. She could do that in the privacy of her own room. Maybe while in the bath. After her report to Rhys. Swallowing she then fastened the siphons to the back of her gloves. 

“Cassian?” she asked after a moment, her voice quiet. Trying to remain steady. Trying to remain the warrior she was trained to be.

“He’s waiting.” Azriel’s expression didn’t change, but there was something softer in the way he spoke, in the way his shadows curled toward her as if offering comfort. “Rhys sent me ahead.”

Elara nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Azriel reached for her sword, fastening it to her back with swift, efficient movements, as if sensing she didn’t have the strength to do it herself.

She should have said thank you. Should have let herself lean into the comfort of his presence. But she only nodded again, steeling herself.

Azriel watched her carefully, then, in that quiet, steady voice of his, he said, “Let’s go home.”

And this time, Elara let out a breath of relief, because home had never sounded so good.

It wasn’t long before she bathed, changing into some comfortable clothes. But her mind kept wonder back to how she got home in the first place. It was almost infuriating that she didn’t escape on her own. No. She wouldn’t have been able to break out of that cell by herself. Not without his help.

Him. Eris. The heir to the autumn court. Went and helped her. Why? She had no idea. And she went over it hundreds of times in her head, almost as if she missed something. Anything, really. Though what stuck out was his last words to her before he left.

“Good luck, little bird,”

~~~~

The night air was cold as Azriel pulled them through the shadows, the tendrils of darkness wrapping around them like a second skin. Elara clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay upright, but the exhaustion was creeping in, threatening to drag her under. Her body ached, bruises deepening with every breath, but she refused to let it slow her down.

She had fought her way out of that cell. She had survived. She could make it home.

Azriel’s grip on her arm was firm, steady—grounding. The first tingling of comfort she’d felt in weeks. Three weeks maybe? It seemed to have been that long according to what Eris hinted at.

“Almost there,” Azriel murmured, his voice cutting through the stillness between them. But his grip tightened slightly on her, urgent, eager to get her back home. 

She swallowed hard, nodding even though her legs trembled beneath her. Shadow traveling had always left her disoriented. She didn’t do it often, always opting for flying. But after everything she had been through, it felt like her bones were being pulled in a hundred directions at once.

The wind shifted, and then, in an instant, Velaris came into view. The soft glow of the Sidra, the twinkling lights of the city—home.

Elara barely had time to process it before they landed just outside the townhouse. Her knees buckled, her balance slipping, but before she could hit the ground, Azriel’s arms were around her.

“Steady,” he murmured, holding her against him.

She gritted her teeth, frustrated by the weakness in her limbs. “I’m fine.”

Azriel huffed quietly, unimpressed. “You’re barely standing.”

She wanted to argue, but before she could, the door to the townhouse was wrenched open.

Cassian.

His face was a storm of emotion—anger, worry, relief all crashing together as his gaze landed on her.

“Elara.”

She barely had time to brace herself before he was there, his arms wrapping around her tightly. The impact sent a fresh wave of pain through her ribs, but she didn’t care.

She let herself sink into the warmth of her brother’s embrace, let herself breathe for the first time since she had been taken.

“I’m fine,” she murmured against his shoulder.

Cassian pulled back just enough to cup her face, his eyes scanning every bruise, every cut, his jaw tightening. “You are *not* fine.”

Before she could snap back, more figures appeared in the doorway.

Rhys. Mor. Amren. Her family. 

Their eyes were sharp, their worry evident, but Elara could barely focus on them before Cassian was turning on Azriel.

“What happened?” His voice was low, dangerous.

Azriel didn’t flinch. “Autumn Court ambush. She escaped on her own. I tracked her before they could find her again.”

Cassian’s fists clenched at his sides, fury simmering in his hazel eyes. “They’re dead?”

Azriel gave a slow, cold nod. “Every single one. That I saw at least.”

Elara swallowed, watching as Cassian’s shoulders tensed, his breathing heavy. But then he looked back at her, and all the fight drained from his face.

“I should have been there.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Elara shook her head. “You were. I just had to find my way back.”

Cassian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before pulling her in again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Then, Mor was there, stepping forward with soft but determined eyes. “Let’s get you inside.”

Elara wanted to protest—wanted to tell them she was fine—but her body betrayed her, her exhaustion catching up all at once.

Azriel’s hand brushed against her back, a silent reassurance, before Cassian lifted her effortlessly into his arms.

She didn’t fight him. Didn’t argue.

Because for the first time in weeks, she was safe.

She was home.