#that day and its a challenge for me to even work alongside her for just an hour or two when she drops in occasionally

[vampmilf]

if my posting gets concerning over the next two weeks just know that its because my two jobs somehow had to coordinate their shifts in a way that ill be working 10 days in a row with no break

[elikajinnie]

hii! hope ur doing good I have some ideas in mind hear me out demon sunghoon where he fell in love with reader and tries to protect and keep an eye on her and sunghoon tries to disguise himself as a human to get closer to her will do anything to protect her and love her, buttt what if reader discover’s his true identity. It could be incubus sunghoon BUT ITS UR CHOICE, Hope ur doing good :333

The Incubus's Touch - P.S

a/n: i hope you like it <33

P: Incubus!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader (Recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Obsession, Teasing, Possession, Seduction, Hurt/Comfort, Temptation, Stalking, Suggestive Content, Mature Content.

Wordcount: 10.2k

Synopsis: Working at the old campus library was fun—except for one rule: never enter the basement. Yet, one day, you found yourself there, holding an ancient book. You read a few words, and now strange things are happening, and a mysterious new student won’t leave you alone. Who—or what—did you awaken?

a/n: i got some inspiration from a new book im reading called The Devil Makes Three by Tori Bovalino - i would recommend it if you can handle slowburn.

now playing: woo by rihanna | sins (let me in) by kanii | temptation by ashley sienna | dont mess with my mind by emo

reblogs and commentary are welcomed <3

--

When you first decided to get a job close to campus, you weren’t expecting much. In fact, you didn’t have many choices at all. Most of the cafes and shops near the university had already filled their rosters for the semester, and every rejection you received only added to the growing knot of anxiety in your chest. As the weeks passed, you found yourself growing desperate, spending late nights scrolling through job postings that seemed to disappear before you could even send in an application.

It wasn’t until one quiet afternoon in the campus library that your salvation arrived.

The campus library had always been your sanctuary—quiet, calm, and filled with the smell of old books. It wasn’t unusual for you to spend hours tucked into one of the corners, surrounded by towering shelves of books and the gentle hum of the air conditioning. The librarian, Mrs. Choi, had gotten used to seeing you there almost every day, to the point where she’d started greeting you by name when you walked through the doors.

That day, she had approached your table while you were hunched over your laptop, your screen open to yet another fruitless job search.

“Still looking?” she’d asked, her voice soft but knowing.

You’d sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah. It’s been… rough.”

She’d nodded thoughtfully, her gaze drifting toward the stacks of books waiting to be shelved. Then, after a moment, she’d said, “How would you feel about working here? As my assistant?”

You’d blinked, thinking you must have misheard her. “Wait, really?”

“Really,” she’d said, smiling faintly. “It’s nothing glamorous, but we could use an extra set of hands. And you seem like the kind of person who’d do well here.”

You didn’t need to think twice. You’d eagerly accepted the offer on the spot.

The job, as it turned out, was exactly what you’d needed. Sorting out books, erasing stray pencil marks and doodles from pages, sitting behind the counter to check books in and out, cleaning shelves, making sure the computers were turned off at the end of the day—it was simple work.

You quickly fell into a routine. Most days, you worked quietly alongside Mrs. Choi, who was as patient and kind. Other times, you found yourself alone.

There were small challenges, of course— like figuring out the library catalog system, dealing with students who were less than gentle with the books, chasing down overdue returns—but they were minor in the grand scheme of things.

It wasn’t the job you’d imagined yourself doing, but it turned out to be exactly what you needed.

But there was one simple rule she had given you: never enter the basement alone.

At first, you thought it was strange. The basement was just a storage space, wasn’t it? A place to keep old supplies, forgotten books, and maybe some outdated equipment. Why would it matter if you were alone or not?

You got your answer the first time Mrs. Choi took you down there.

It had been a quiet afternoon, with only a few students milling around the library. Mrs. Choi had handed you a list of supplies needed to repair a torn book—a delicate process that required some old tools and adhesives she kept locked away downstairs. She led you to a small, unassuming door at the far corner of the library, almost hidden behind one of the towering shelves.

The moment the door creaked open, the atmosphere changed.

The air was heavier, colder. A faint smell of mold hit your nose immediately, mixed with something metallic that made you wrinkle your nose. The single light bulb at the top of the stairs flickered, casting shadows that danced along the narrow stairwell. You hesitated, but Mrs. Choi gave you a reassuring look and motioned for you to follow.

“I know it’s not exactly inviting,” she said with a small smile, descending the stairs, “but the supplies we need are down here. Just stick close to me.”

You nodded and followed her, but the deeper you went, the more uneasy you felt. The basement wasn’t just dark—it was suffocatingly so. The walls were lined with shelves cluttered with dust-covered boxes, forgotten stacks of books, and unidentifiable objects. The floor beneath your feet was uneven, cracked concrete, and your steps echoed in the silence.

And then there were the hallways.

You hadn’t expected the basement to be so sprawling. Hallways branched off in seemingly every direction, twisting and turning into darkness. Some of them were so narrow you’d have to walk sideways to squeeze through. Others disappeared entirely into shadows, the overhead lights either burned out or nonexistent.

“This library is older than the campus itself,” Mrs. Choi explained as she rummaged through a shelf near the end of one of the hallways. “The basement used to be part of an old archive building before the university bought the property. They’ve renovated the library a dozen times over the years, but the basement? Well…” She trailed off, gesturing to the decaying walls around you.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you muttered, wrinkling your nose at the sight of a particularly large spiderweb on the wall.

Mrs. Choi chuckled softly. “Exactly. What the students can’t see won’t hurt them—or so the administration likes to think. Just be glad you don’t have to come down here often.”

You nodded, but your eyes kept drifting to the dark hallways. There was something… off about them.

“Mrs. Choi?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Hmm?” she replied without looking up.

“Why don’t you want me coming down here alone?”

She paused, her hands stilling on the box she’d been searching through. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, and you felt a chill crawl up your spine. When she finally spoke, her tone was casual—too casual.

“It’s easy to get lost,” she said, turning to you with a faint smile. “The layout down here doesn’t make much sense, and it’s not exactly safe to wander around in the dark. The last thing I want is for you to trip and hurt yourself.”

Her explanation made sense, but the way she avoided your gaze left you unconvinced. Still, you didn’t press the issue. You helped her carry the supplies back upstairs, relieved to step back into the library.

After that, you made a point to follow her rule. The basement was creepy enough with someone else—there was no way you were going down there alone.

At least, not until the night you had no choice.

It happened a few weeks later, after a long shift that had stretched past closing time. Mrs. Choi had gone home early, trusting you to lock up on your own. Most of the evening had just been returning books to their shelves, tidying up the counter, shutting down the computers—but just as you were about to leave, you noticed a small stack of books on the repair desk.

You froze, staring at them. Mrs. Choi had asked you to fix those earlier in the week, but you’d completely forgotten. The supplies you needed were downstairs—in the basement.

You hesitated, debating whether you could just leave it for tomorrow, but you knew Mrs. Choi was counting on you. Sighing, you grabbed a flashlight from the front desk and made your way to the basement door.

You hesitated at the door, keys in hand, as a quiet, uneasy thought crossed your mind: Just leave it for tomorrow. But Mrs. Choi... She was counting on you. The supplies were just downstairs. It’d take five minutes at most.

With a resigned sigh, you unlocked the door.

The heavy, creaking groan of the hinges sent a shiver down your spine as the door swung open. The familiar smell hit you immediately: damp, mold, and that faint metallic. You reached for the light switch, flipping it on without much thought.

Nothing happened.

You froze, your hand still on the switch. You flicked it again. And again. Still nothing.

You swallowed hard, telling yourself the bulb had probably just burned out—though you couldn’t remember a time the light had ever failed before.

“It’s fine,” you muttered under your breath, bringing the flashlight you’d brought along up. The bright beam cut through the darkness as you clicked it on, illuminating the narrow staircase in front of you. You took a shaky breath and began your descent.

The further down you went, the colder it became.

The air felt heavier here, pressing against your skin like a warning. You tried to focus on the flashlight’s beam, watching it bounce against the cracked walls and uneven steps. It helped, a little. But not enough to shake the growing knot of unease curling in your stomach.

When you finally reached the bottom of the staircase, you paused to look around. The beam of your flashlight swept across the basement, revealing the same maze of shelves, forgotten boxes, and darkened hallways you’d seen before. But tonight, it felt different—almost unfamiliar.

A shiver ran up your spine. You adjusted your grip on the flashlight, forcing yourself to move.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Get the supplies and leave.”

You turned toward the shelf where Mrs. Choi always kept the repair tools. They were usually right there—neatly stored in a small wooden crate on the middle shelf. But as you shone the flashlight over it, you froze.

The shelf was empty.

Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly scanned the area. No crate. No tools. Nothing. You crouched down, checking the lower shelves, even though you knew they’d never been there before. Still nothing.

“Where…?” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own breathing.

Maybe Mrs. Choi had moved them? That was possible, right? She was always reorganizing things. You straightened up, your flashlight flicking from shelf to shelf, moving to step back, you were about tt turn to check the other shelves nearby. That’s when you heard it.

A faint sound, just on the edge of your hearing. A soft creak, like the sound of a door easing open—or maybe a floorboard shifting underfoot.

You froze, your flashlight trembling slightly in your hand.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice louder than you intended. It echoed through the basement, bouncing off the walls and disappearing into the dark hallways. No response.

You told yourself it was nothing. Maybe just the old pipes settling, or your own footsteps disturbing something. But as you turned back to the shelf, another sound reached you.

This time, it was softer—quieter. Like the faint rustle of fabric.

Your stomach dropped.

You swung the flashlight toward the nearest hallway, its beam cutting through the dark. Nothing. Just more shelves, more shadows. But your instincts were screaming at you now, telling you to leave. To get out of there.

"Okay, nope," you whispered to yourself, backing away from the hallway, your flashlight trembling slightly in your hands.

That’s when you heard it.

A hum.

Soft, almost melodic, like someone humming a lullaby just out of earshot. It floated through the air, carried on a breeze that shouldn’t have existed down here. The sound wrapped around you, tender and strangely inviting, tugging at something deep inside your chest.

You froze, the flashlight beam flickering as your grip loosened. The hum grew louder—not in an overwhelming way, but in a way that seemed to sink into your bones. It felt… warm.

Where were you again?

You frowned, the thought slipping through your mind like water through your fingers. You couldn’t remember. The dim basement around you blurred at the edges, the walls dissolving into a hazy glow. The tight knot of fear in your stomach melted away, replaced by a slow, pleasant warmth that spread through your body.

The hum wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting and wonderful, coaxing you to close your eyes and just… relax. The cold, damp smell of the basement faded, replaced by something sweeter. Flowers? No… vanilla, maybe. Something that reminded you of home.

You let out a soft sigh, your muscles relaxing, the tension in your shoulders fading. Your flashlight slipped from your fingers and clattered to the ground, but you barely noticed.

Everything felt so perfect.

You wanted to stay here forever.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the hum stopped.

And everything crashed back into focus.

The warmth in your chest was gone, replaced by a sharp chill that clawed at your skin. The sweetness in the air vanished, leaving behind the bitter stench of mold and metal. Your surroundings solidified, and you realized you were no longer standing where you’d been before.

You were in a different room.

The walls were smooth and gray, completely different from the crumbling concrete of the basement hallways. The shelves were gone, replaced by nothing but cold, empty space. The air felt heavier, colder, and every breath you took made your chest ache.

Your flashlight was nowhere to be seen, but a dim, pale light seemed to seep into the room from nowhere and everywhere at once.

The hum was gone, but the silence it left behind was worse.

You turned in slow circles, your heart hammering in your chest. The room was small, with smooth, gray walls that loomed over you, stretching upward into darkness.

“Hello?” you called, your voice trembling.

It echoed back to you, warped and distant, as if the room was far larger than it seemed.

The warped echoes of your voice faded into the suffocating silence of the room, leaving only the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

How did you even get here?

You couldn't remember. Your mind was still foggy, fragments of warmth and that eerie hum lingering in the back of your thoughts like an unfinished dream.

Did you walk here?

You felt like you were missing pieces of yourself, as if part of your memory had been swallowed whole.

You were about to take a tentative step forward when something deep inside you shifted—a strange, unnatural pull. It wasn't a sensation you could describe easily. It was as though a string deep within your chest was being tugged, pulling you toward something.

You froze, your breath catching as your eyes followed the invisible tether.

In the center of the room, sitting on a low, ornate stand, was a book.

Your heart stuttered. Had that been there before? You were sure it wasn’t. You would have noticed it immediately, wouldn’t you?

The book seemed to glow faintly, its crimson-red cover almost pulsating, like it was alive. There were no words or symbols on the front, just smooth, worn leather that seemed impossibly pristine for something that felt so… ancient.

You swallowed hard, your feet moving toward it as if on their own. Each step felt heavier, your instincts screaming at you to turn around, to run, but you couldn’t stop.

When you finally reached it, you hesitated.

It was smaller than you expected, almost delicate, as though it shouldn’t have belonged in a place like this. Despite its vivid crimson color, the book radiated a strange sense of calm—like it wanted to be touched.

Before you realized it, your fingers were brushing against the cover.

It felt smooth, almost unnaturally so, and surprisingly light when you picked it up. You turned it over in your hands, the edges soft and perfectly bound, as if the book had been untouched for centuries. But on the back, something caught your attention.

A pink heart.

It was imprinted into the leather, subtle, making it look almost playful.

You huffed, confused and almost annoyed by how strange it all felt. Turning the book back over, you slowly opened it.

The pages inside were blank.

Every single one, clean and untouched, as though the book had never been written in. But when you turned to the first page, something stopped you in your tracks.

There was writing.

It was delicate, inked in looping, elegant script that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. The letters were strange, unfamiliar, but they seemed alive, as though they were moving ever so slightly, shifting and breathing on the page.

Latin, your mind supplied, though you couldn’t remember ever studying the language.

You tilted your head, curiosity overriding your fear as your eyes traced the unfamiliar words. They beckoned to you, pulling you in deeper. Before you even realized what you were doing, your lips parted, and you read them aloud:

"Qui me legit, fiat noster ligamen aeternum."

Nothing happened.

You stared at the book, waiting for some dramatic effect—a rumble, a flash of light, maybe a ghostly apparition—but there was nothing. Just silence.

You let out an annoyed huff, rolling your eyes. “Great. Real spooky,” you muttered under your breath. Closing the book with a snap, you placed it back on the stand, wiping your hands on your jeans as if to rid yourself of its texture. “What a waste of time.”

Turning around, you glanced around the room again, your frustration growing. It wasn’t like you had time to deal with creepy books in creepy basements. You still needed to get out of here and figure out why the supplies weren’t where they were supposed to be.

Then, you saw it.

A door.

It was open, just wide enough for you to slip through. You frowned. Had it been there before? It must’ve been—how else would you have gotten in here? Still, something about it didn’t sit right with you.

Was that where you came from?

You shrugged. Probably.

With no other options, you headed toward it, slipping through the opening, the faint creak of the hinges echoing unnervingly.

And then you were swallowed by darkness.

“Of course,” you muttered, groaning. Without the flashlight from earlier, the darkness was thick and impenetrable. You could barely see an inch in front of your face, and the faint light from the room behind you did nothing to help.

Fishing your phone from your pocket, you switched on its flashlight. The beam wasn’t as strong as the flashlight you’d been carrying before, but it was enough to see the area around you.

The floor beneath your feet was uneven and cold, a mixture of dirt and cracked stone. You shone the light around, trying to get your bearings. The walls were damp and covered in spiderwebs, and the faint scent of mold and rust lingered in the air.

Where even am I?

You took a tentative step forward, the beam of light from your phone trembling as you moved.

The hallway kept stretching forward, narrow and seemingly endless. The farther you walked, the more the walls seemed to close in around you, the air growing colder with each step. Your phone’s light flickered once, then again, making your pulse spike.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” you whispered, gripping the device tighter.

The light steadied, and you exhaled a shaky breath, your footsteps faltering slightly.

Something felt off.

The air was too still, the silence too absolute. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like you were being watched, like something was lurking just beyond the reach of your light.

You shook your head, trying to focus. “Get it together,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just find the exit.”

But as you took another step, something caught your attention.

A sound.

It was faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grew louder the more you listened. A soft, rhythmic tapping, like footsteps… or fingers drumming against a surface.

You froze, the beam of your phone’s light shaking as your hands trembled. The sound echoed faintly through the corridor, coming from somewhere ahead of you.

“Hello?” you called, your voice cracking slightly.

No response.

The tapping stopped.

You waited, holding your breath, your ears straining for any hint of movement.

Then, suddenly, the tapping started again—this time behind you.

Your stomach dropped, and you whipped around, the flashlight from your phone sweeping over the hallway you’d just walked through. It was empty.

Completely, utterly empty.

You took a shaky step backward, your heart hammering in your chest. The tapping grew louder, faster, coming from all around you now, echoing off the walls in a maddening cacophony.

“Stop it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Just stop!”

And then it did.

The silence that followed was deafening, almost worse than the sound itself. You took another step back, your pulse racing, and suddenly the floor beneath you gave way.

With a startled cry, you fell, the phone slipping from your hand as you tumbled into darkness.

You hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Dazed and disoriented, you lay there for a moment, your head spinning and your body aching.

When you finally managed to sit up, you realized you were no longer in the narrow hallway.

You were back in the room.

The light was gone, replaced by an suffocating darkness that seemed to stretch endlessly around you.

And in the center of the room, sitting on the stand where you’d left it, was the book.

But this time, it wasn`t red.

It was black.

And it was beating.

You screamed, the sound raw and terrified as it echoed around the room. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Your body felt impossibly heavy, as though some unseen force was pressing down on you, rooting you in place.

Frantic, your eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out, for anything to explain what was happening. But the darkness seemed alive now, shifting and writhing just beyond your vision.

And then, you felt it.

Hot breath, impossibly close, brushing against your ear.

Your breath hitched as warmth spread through you, pooling low in your stomach, and you hated how your body betrayed you, reacting to something you couldn’t even see.

Then came the lips.

Soft, feather-light, trailing along the curve of your neck. The sensation was so vivid, so real, that a groan escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your body arched instinctively, leaning into the phantom touch, even as your mind screamed at you to fight it, to run, to do something.

“Shh,” a voice purred, its tone soothing. “There’s no need to be afraid, my sweet. You called me, remember?”

Your heart raced, and your hands clenched into fists as you tried to regain control of your body. “What… what are you?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

The presence behind you chuckled, the sound low and intimate, like a lover’s laugh shared in the dark.

“I’m yours,” it said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You read the words. You invited me in. And now… we’re bound.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “No, no, this isn’t real. This can’t be real.”

“Oh, but it is,” the voice replied, amusement lacing its tone. “You wanted something, didn’t you? Why else would you open that book? Why else would you speak those words?”

The weight on your body eased slightly, enough for you to shift and try to crawl away, but the darkness coiled around you like a living thing, keeping you in place.

“You don’t even know what you’ve done, do you?” the voice murmured, almost pitying. “Poor thing. You were so eager, so curious. And now…”

A hand—cold yet burning—brushed against your cheek, tilting your head up toward the stand where the book still rested.

“…you’re mine.”

The room seemed to pulse with those final words, the darkness tightening around you like a vice. Your vision blurred as panic clawed at your throat, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the book—its pages flipping wildly on their own—glowing faintly with a sinister crimson light.

You woke up with a sharp gasp, your body jolting upright like you’d been shocked awake. But as you looked around, you realized you were lying in the middle of the hallway.

Your phone was on the floor beside you, its flashlight pointed up at the cracked ceiling.

It was a dream?

You laughed, breathless and shaky, running a hand through your hair as you tried to calm yourself. “This is insane,” you muttered, your voice trembling. The laughter didn’t last long—it felt hollow, a desperate attempt to convince yourself that what you’d experienced wasn’t real.

You snatched up your phone, and scrambled to your feet. Without wasting another second, you sprinted down the hallway, the weak beam of your phone’s flashlight bouncing with every step. You didn’t care where you were going anymore; you just needed to get out.

The hallways twisted and turned, stretching endlessly, and every shadow seemed to claw at you as you ran. It felt like hours—like the labyrinth was mocking you, refusing to let you leave.

But finally, somehow, you found your way back.

The dim light of the main basement room greeted you, and your breath hitched as your eyes landed on something you hadn’t expected to see.

The box of supplies.

It was sitting on the shelf, exactly where it was supposed to be.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at it. The same box you’d been searching for, on the same shelf you’d checked before.

How had it gotten here?

You didn’t dare question it. Not now. Not after everything that had just happened.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the box, clutching it tightly in one hand while you snatched the flashlight off the ground with the other.

Then you bolted.

Your feet thundered up the stairs, your pulse roaring in your ears as you raced for the exit. When you reached the top, you slammed the basement door shut and locked it, your hands shaking so badly it took you a couple of tries to get the key to turn.

The moment it was locked, you pressed your back against the door, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

You glanced down at the supplies in your arms, the mundane, ordinary contents almost laughable now after everything you’d been through.

But as you stood there, something cold prickled at the back of your neck.

You turned slowly, your eyes drifting toward the library’s main floor.

Everything was still. Silent.

And yet, for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a figure standing in the shadows between the shelves.

Watching you.

You blinked, and it was gone.

This was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, shaking your head as you clutched the box tighter. You were just tired, that was all. You hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days, and the stress of balancing school and work was clearly catching up to you. Yeah, tired. That’s all this is, you thought, repeating it like a mantra.

Ignoring the lingering unease prickling at the back of your neck, you made your way to the counter. The two ripped books Mrs. Choi had left were still there, waiting for you. You dropped the box down with a thud, grabbed the tools you needed, and got to work.

Your hands trembled at first as you smoothed out the torn pages, applying the adhesive carefully. You focused on the process—cutting, pressing, and smoothing out the repair strips—letting the repetitive actions calm your frayed nerves.

This was normal. Fixing books. Doing your job. Nothing weird about that.

Minutes passed. Then longer. The books were almost done, and for a moment, you felt like you could breathe again.

But then, just as you reached for the last tool in the box, a soft tap echoed through the library.

Your hand froze mid-reach, your eyes darting toward the source of the sound.

Tap… tap… tap.

It came from the direction of the shelves, slow and deliberate, like someone tapping their nails against wood.

Your chest tightened as you stared into the rows of books, the library was dark now—darker than it should’ve been. The overhead lights seemed dimmer, casting distorted shadows across the shelves.

You swallowed hard, trying to convince yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was the building settling, or the heating system kicking on. Don’t be stupid. You’re just scaring yourself.

Still, you couldn’t help but call out, your voice wavering. “Hello?”

No response.

The tapping stopped.

You stared into the darkness for what felt like an eternity, your heart hammering in your chest.

Then, just as you were about to turn back to the books, a book fell from one of the shelves.

The sound was deafening, the thud reverberating through the library like a gunshot.

You jumped, your breath hitching, and spun toward the source. The book lay open on the floor, its pages splayed out like wings.

You didn’t want to go over there. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to stay behind the counter, to leave it alone.

But your feet moved on their own, taking slow, hesitant steps toward the fallen book.

When you finally reached the book, you crouched down, your hand trembling as you picked it up.

Your fingers brushed over the embossed title, and your stomach dropped.

It was the same book you’d seen in the basement.

You gasped, clutching the crimson book tightly as your eyes darted around the library. Maybe this was some sort of prank? Someone could have grabbed the book from the basement and planted it here to scare you.

“Hello?” you called out again, but the library was still empty, silent.

Your breathing quickened as you scanned the shelves, desperate to catch a glimpse of anyone—a student pulling some cruel joke, or maybe Mrs. Choi coming back to check on you. But there was no one.

You hurried back to the counter, your heart racing, and turned on the computer. Your fingers fumbled as you brought up the CCTV footage, the small screen flickering to life. You scrubbed through the past hour, watching yourself walking back and forth, grabbing the box, and fixing the books.

Nothing.

No one else had entered the library. The hallways and shelves were empty. It was just you, moving around, completely alone.

Well… almost.

You paused the footage, your heart sinking as your eyes locked onto a shadow. It was faint, barely distinguishable, but for one brief frame, something seemed to linger in the corner of the screen. Not a person, but… something.

It was gone in the next frame.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope,” you muttered under your breath, slamming the monitor off.

You looked at the crimson book sitting on the counter, its cover gleaming faintly under the dim light. It felt wrong—its very presence seemed to thrum.

Without thinking, you grabbed it and tossed it into the nearest trash bin, making sure it landed deep under crumpled paper and leftover scraps.

“There,” you said to yourself, your voice shaky. “Done.”

Forcing yourself to focus, you went back to finishing the torn books, your hands working faster than ever. As soon as the repairs were complete, you shoved the box under the counter and hurried to turn off the lights.

The library plunged into darkness, the faint moonlight filtering through the windows barely enough to guide you as you locked the doors behind you.

You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you stepped outside. The campus was quiet, the lampposts casting long shadows across the pathways.

You tightened your coat around you and began the walk home, your footsteps echoing loud. Every so often, you glanced over your shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that someone was following you.

But the path behind you was always empty.

Still, the unease stayed with you, like a cold weight settling deep in your chest.

When you finally reached your apartment, you locked the door behind you, double-checking it twice before collapsing onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe you were just tired, your imagination running wild after a long day.

Before you knew it, sleep had overtaken you. The exhaustion from the long day weighed down on your body like a blanket, pulling you into unconsciousness almost instantly.

But the peace of sleep didn’t last long.

You found yourself in a dimly lit bedroom, one you didn’t recognize. The walls were draped with dark curtains, and the air was heavy with the faint scent of roses. You sat up slowly, blinking in confusion as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“How did I…?” you murmured, your voice trailing off.

Before you could process anything, a voice, smooth and rich like velvet, broke the silence.

“My, you’re even more beautiful up close.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, equal parts alluring and unsettling. You whipped your head around, searching for the source, but the shadows in the room seemed to shift and dance, obscuring whoever was speaking to you.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” the voice continued, closer now, almost right beside your ear. “To touch you… to feel you…”

You gasped as a pair of lips suddenly pressed against yours, soft but demanding.

Your initial instinct was to pull away, but the sensation was overwhelming. Your mind grew hazy, a strange warmth spreading through your chest as the kiss deepened. It felt so intoxicating, so magnetic, that you couldn’t help but melt into it.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. The kiss was unlike anything you’d ever experienced—it was all-consuming, as though the very act of it was pulling you further into the dream.

You felt hands brush against your skin, feather-light but firm, holding you in place.

You tried to pull back, but the hands held you steady, the kiss turning more possessive. The warmth you’d felt earlier now burned, searing through your veins as if something was being poured into you.

Panic swelled in your chest, but just as you were about to scream, the room spun violently, and everything went dark.

When your eyes shot open, you were back on your couch, drenched in sweat. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

But the lingering warmth on your lips, the faint ache of the kiss, told you otherwise.

And as you glanced toward the door, you froze.

The crimson book was sitting there, completely untouched, resting on the floor as if it had never been buried at all.

Your blood ran cold.

You scrambled to your feet, your heart pounding as you stared at the book. How was it there again? You knew you’d buried it deep under the pile of scraps.

“Nope. Not dealing with this,” you muttered, your voice shaking but resolute.

You grabbed the book, your fingers brushing against its smooth, cold cover. A strange, pleasant warmth crawled up your arm at the contact, sending shivers through your body. For a fleeting moment, it felt good—too good. Your grip faltered as a soft sigh escaped your lips, unbidden.

No.

Shaking your head fiercely, you tightened your grip and turned toward the window. Without hesitating, you threw it open, the cool night air brushing against your flushed face.

With all the strength you could muster, you hurled the book out. It spiraled through the air before landing with a dull thud on the damp grass below.

You leaned against the windowsill, watching the book. It lay there, unmoving.

Relief coursed through you.

“That’s it,” you whispered. “Stay there. Stay gone.”

Slamming the window shut, you locked it, double-checking the latch before stepping back.

You needed to clear your head, to shake off the strange sensations still crawling under your skin. Heading to the bathroom, you stripped off your clothes.

The shower hissed to life, steam rising as the water warmed. You stepped under the stream, letting the heat cascade over you, washing away the sweat and fear clinging to your body.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to convince yourself it was all in your head. Just a bad day. Just a stressful, weird day.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the sound of the water beating against your skin filling your ears as you focused on your breathing. It’s fine. It’s just your imagination. Nothing weird is going on. You’re tired, just tired, you repeated in your mind.

The water seemed colder now, even though the temperature hadn't changed, and a shiver ran down your spine. You’re overthinking it. Just get out of the shower and relax, you told yourself, but your hands felt heavy as you reached for the soap.

Just as you were about to wash your face, a soft tap echoed from somewhere beyond the bathroom door.

You froze, the motion of your hands stalling in midair.

Tap... Tap...

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes darted to the bathroom door.

It was all too familiar. You couldn’t breathe, your chest tightening as the sound echoed louder in your mind.

No. No. It’s just the house settling. Maybe it’s the pipes. Just the pipes.

But the words felt hollow in your mind, the fear building with every passing second. The taps grew louder, clearer, almost closer.

You turned off the water quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. You stood there, motionless, listening, waiting for the sound to stop.

But it didn’t.

And then a creak. Just slightly, but enough for you to hear.

You gasped, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself as you backed away, your legs shaking. Your mind screamed at you to leave the bathroom, to get out of the apartment, but you couldn’t move.

Then, before you could react, the door opened, just a crack.

There was nothing on the other side.

Just the empty hallway beyond.

But you knew. You knew it wasn’t right.

You slammed the door shut and locked it immediately, your breath ragged. The air in the bathroom felt stifling now, the walls pressing in on you, the space shrinking.

Your hand trembled as you reached for your phone, desperate to call someone, anyone.

But the screen flickered as soon as you unlocked it. The text on the screen was warped, unreadable. You stared at it for a moment, your stomach dropping. Something wasn’t right with your phone either.

A sharp, guttural whisper curled through the air, a voice so low you barely caught it.

The voice was so faint at first, you thought it was just a figment of your imagination, a trick your mind had played in the silence. But then it came again, clear and sharp, wrapping around your senses like a heavy fog.

“Come closer...”

It was soft, smooth, but there was an undeniable edge to it—laced with something... something tempting.

You froze, the words swirling in your mind. It wasn’t your own voice. It was deeper, resonating through you, the very air around you thick with a strange pull. Your chest tightened, and you felt something shift within you, an involuntary tug deep inside your stomach, urging you forward.

“Just one touch... just one kiss...”

The voice slithered, curling into your ear like a lover’s whisper, and something about it stirred the air around you. Your body was heating up, your skin prickling with a strange energy you couldn't explain.

You swallowed hard, your breath quickening as you stared at the mirror, trying to make sense of what was happening.

That’s when you felt it—an undeniable heat at your back.

It burned, searing through you like something alive, something that wanted you. Your breath hitched, and you spun around in a panic, expecting to see someone behind you, but the bathroom was empty, the space cold and silent.

But the heat didn’t fade.

It lingered, crawling across your skin like a heavy presence, sending shivers up your spine. There was no one there, but the sensation of being watched was there. Your body tensed, the warmth spreading through your entire body now, suffocating you, as if someone was right there, pressed against you, whispering into your very soul.

“It’s just us now…”

You glanced into the mirror once more, and there it was again—the figure. This time, it was clearer, its shadowy outline just behind you, impossibly close. The reflection wasn’t yours—it was someone else, standing so close that the hairs on your neck stood on end.

You gasped, heart pounding, but the figure didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. It simply stood.

The heat intensified, and the whisper grew louder, more insistent, as if it had taken root in your mind.

“Come to me... you know you want to...”

Your pulse raced. The pull in your chest was growing stronger now, as if your body was no longer your own, as if it was being drawn to something that wasn’t just a dream anymore.

The room began to spin, and you had to grip the edge of the sink to steady yourself, feeling dizzy as the desire to obey, to give in, washed over you. But as you fought it, something else caught your eye in the mirror—something that made your blood run cold.

A pair of glowing eyes pierced through the shadows, locked on you. And they were hungry.

You staggered back, heart slamming against your ribcage, and in the corner of your vision, you saw a fleeting glimpse of something—something moving, shifting in the dark.

No… You wanted to scream, to run, but your body wouldn’t move. Your limbs felt like lead, and the heat had become unbearable, pressing into you, dragging you toward it.

With a strangled breath, you finally tore your gaze away from the mirror, blinking furiously to rid yourself of the image. But the voice didn’t stop. It echoed inside your mind, growing louder.

“We’re bound now... there’s no going back…”

You tried to pull away, tried to break free of the suffocating heat and the unbearable pressure, but you couldn’t move. It was as if invisible hands were holding you in place. Your body, already trembling from the overwhelming sensations, was paralyzed as the touch slowly traveled up your arms.

It was light, ghostly, like fingertips grazing over your skin—soft, but burning with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t. The sensation slid up to your shoulders, your neck, curling around you.

The moment it brushed your throat, the pressure seemed to increase, suffocating you. The touch lingered there, just under your jawline, fingers gentle yet firm. And then, before you could think, before you could react, you felt something else—lips.

A kiss.

But not from anyone you could see.

Your eyes snapped shut, your breath shallow as the kiss deepened, warm and intoxicating. It was urgent, burning, and wrong, but in a way that felt too good to resist. You tried to move, tried to pull back, but the invisible force held you in place, pushing you further into the kiss.

It was there, all around you—this overwhelming feeling of being wanted, of being pulled into something. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, fear and desire mingling into a sickening cocktail. The sensation of lips on yours, it felt alive, like the very essence of the kiss was drawing something from you.

A low, satisfied murmur vibrated against your lips, and something deep within you shivered.

No… stop, please… You tried to scream in your mind, but your body didn’t obey. You couldn’t pull away from it.

You were being pulled into it, held captive by something invisible, something that wasn't human. But what? What was kissing you, claiming you like this?

The answer felt just out of reach, like a whisper that barely brushed against your mind, too faint to grasp, too slippery to hold onto. The sensation of lips—too warm, too alive—pressed against yours again, and your strength began to wane. It was as if every breath you took was being drained, pulled out from you with each passing second. You felt weak, too weak to move, too weak to even think.

Your body, once full of fear, had gone completely limp, like a ragdoll strung up and held in place by an invisible force. The pressure around your throat tightened, suffocating, but you could do nothing to fight it. You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t even blink—all your energy was consumed, sucked away by whatever was holding you captive, by the kiss that wasn't a kiss.

You could feel your mind slipping, like your thoughts were dissolving into the heat, into the darkness surrounding you. The invisible force—was it a presence? A shadow?—held you in place, guiding you, manipulating you, as if you were a puppet and it was pulling your strings.

But still, the sensation of being claimed lingered, you tried to focus, tried to break free, but it was no use. Every attempt only made you feel smaller, more powerless, like you were losing yourself bit by bit.

Was this what it wanted?

Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. It felt... distant. Detached. Like you were a spectator in your own skin, watching as the thing—whatever it was—wove its tendrils around you.

Just as the world around you seemed to fade, a distant whisper echoed through the fog of your mind:

"Mine now."

The words wrapped around you like a heavy chain, pulling tighter and tighter until you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even feel the floor beneath you anymore.

You were slipping away, your body fading into nothingness, held together only by the force that had claimed you.

"Mine forever."

--

When you woke up, it wasn’t like any other morning. You felt... tired. Groggy, and exhausted. As you stretched, you looked around the room, everything exactly as you left it, nothing unusual. It felt normal.

When you arrived at school, you couldn’t focus. The lessons droned on, but your mind kept wandering. You couldn't shake the feeling from last night. There was a gnawing curiosity deep inside you, a need to know what had happened, to make sense of it. You couldn’t just ignore it—your body wasn’t the same.

You pulled out your laptop in the middle of class, and you typed furiously. Your fingers flew over the keys, searching for any explanation that made sense, some kind of rational answer.

You found nothing but chaos.

The results were all over the place: demons, rituals, ghosts, whispers about curses and creatures from myths, things you thought only existed in horror stories. At first, you dismissed it. This can’t be real, you told yourself. But the deeper you went, the more it all seemed... possible.

And then you found it.

Incubus demons.

Your stomach twisted as you read more. The descriptions, the encounters—everything fit too perfectly. A demon, often seductive, one that could manipulate dreams, feed off your energy, entwine itself with you in the most intimate of ways. It would drain you slowly, filling you with warmth, with need, until it had you completely. Some even said an incubus could bind you to them—forever.

You felt a shiver creep down your spine. Was this what had happened to you? Could it be real? Could the thing you felt, the presence that had been with you, be an incubus?

The deeper you read, the more it made sense. The powerlessness, the way you felt unable to stop it, to resist. The hunger, the overwhelming desire. You couldn’t imagine it. You couldn't dream it.

You were still lost in thought as the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You gathered your things mechanically, your mind still reeling from the unsettling information you had uncovered. The words about incubus demons echoed in your head, each sentence making you feel more and more trapped.

As you packed your bag, your hand brushed against something unfamiliar. A cold chill ran through you, and your stomach dropped. You froze for a second, staring at your bag with a creeping sense of dread. Slowly, you opened it, and your eyes widened.

The book.

The crimson-red book. The one you had thrown out the window, the one you’d left behind—it was here, in your bag.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your fingers trembling as you touched the book. It was impossible. How could it be here? You distinctly remembered tossing it out, watching it fall to the ground outside your window. You’d even seen it land on the grass—it couldn’t have just come back.

A deep sense of dread filled your chest as your fingers slowly curled around the cover. You could feel the pull of it again, that same suffocating desire that called to you, whispered to you.

You quickly closed the bag, as if hiding it would make it go away.

How... how was this possible?

Your mind raced, trying to piece it together, but there was no logical explanation. The book had been thrown out. It shouldn’t be here.

And yet, it was.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t in control anymore.

Something was toying with you.

You had just sat down in your next class, trying to focus, but your mind kept wandering. How was it possible? What was happening to you? You barely noticed when the seat beside you shifted, and someone sat down, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You turned your head instinctively, and your breath caught in your throat.

He was... stunning.

Tall, with sharp features and thick eyebrows that gave him an almost commanding presence. A few moles dotted his face, and his eyes were dark, almost mesmerizing, in a way which made your heart race in a way that felt unnatural.

But what really made your stomach flutter was the fact that you’d never seen him before.

Was he in this class?

You racked your brain, trying to recall if you had ever noticed him in the hallways or anywhere else on campus, but nothing came to mind.

He seemed to notice you staring at him, and a sly smile tugged at his lips. He leaned a bit closer, as if he didn’t mind the attention at all, his voice smooth and confident when he spoke.

"Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You blinked, caught off guard by the casualness of his tone. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine."

He chuckled softly, and you felt a strange sensation wash over you, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. It was unsettling, but you couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"I'm Sunghoon. Park Sunghoon," he said, his smile widening slightly.

You blinked again, now fully aware of how close he was. "Oh, uh, nice to meet you."

You forced a smile, but your heart was beating too fast. There was something about him, something that felt off—but also familiar.

Why did it feel like he already knew you?

The class went by as usual, the minutes dragging on in a haze. Sunghoon didn't speak much after you introducing yourself, but every now and then, you'd catch him glancing at you, his dark eyes glimmering with something you couldn't quite place. You tried to ignore the unease creeping up your spine and focused on the lesson.

By the time class ended, you were relieved to be able to leave. You needed some time to clear your head.

--

When you arrived at the library, you clocked in and slid behind the counter, but quickly growing bored, you leaned forward and opened the computer, deciding to look up something to distract you. You typed in "demon books," half expecting it to pull up some weird conspiracy theory, but to your surprise, a result popped up. There was a book, right there in the archives—on demons.

Your curiosity flared. This was what you needed.

You grabbed a pen and jotted down the shelf number before heading to the stacks. When you arrived, your eyes searched the shelves, scanning for the number you’d written down. There it was—just out of reach. The book you wanted sat high on the shelf, taunting you. You stretched on your toes, reaching as far as you could, but it was no use. You could feel the frustration rising as you considered your options.

As you were about to give up and turn away, a hand shot up from behind you, effortlessly reaching the book and pulling it down.

You turned around, heart skipping a beat. There, standing just behind you, was Sunghoon. He held the book you had been struggling to get, his expression unreadable.

“Need this?” he asked, his voice casual, almost too smooth.

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. Something about the way he said that sent a strange shiver down your spine. It was as if he knew exactly what you were searching for, as if he had been waiting for you to look it up.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the book from him, but your hand brushed against his for a moment longer than necessary. A jolt of electricity shot through you, and you quickly pulled your hand away, your face flushing.

“No problem,” he replied smoothly, his eyes twinkling. “Figured you needed a little help.”

You watched him disappear into the rows of books, and the unease from earlier returned, settling deep into your bones.

--

You don’t even realize what you've walked into, do you? Your deliciousness is like a siren's song, luring me in, and I am a lost soul, destined to follow. I've got you now, and I won't let you go. I'll devour every last piece of you, leaving no part untouched, for you're a feast that I'll savor forever.

Your beauty, it's like a spell, casting a shadow over my heart, and I want to take and take, until you give me everything, for I crave the taste of your soul, the essence of your being.

I think of your skin, smooth as silk, and how it feels under my touch. I imagine the taste of your lips, sweet like nectar, and how they'd satisfy my every craving. I envision your body, and how it yields to my every caress.

I'll trace the map of your body with my hands, my lips, and my heart, marking every inch as my own.

I'll feast on your lips, kiss by kiss, until my soul is satiated. I'll drink from the well of your desire, quench my thirst, and be nourished by your passion. I'll explore the depths of your pleasure, discover the peaks of your ecstasy.

And when I've had my fill, my sweet, I'll still want more. For you're an endless ocean, a bottomless pit of pleasure, and I can never quench my thirst. I'll always want to dive deeper, explore further, and discover more.

--

You stared at the book in your hands as you made your way back to the counter. And once you sat behind the counter, you placed the book down in front of you, the sound of the pages flipping echoing softly in the quiet library.

You opened the book, the musty scent of old pages filling your nose as you began flipping through it, scanning the words and images. Each page was filled with descriptions of various demons, their powers, their origins, and their terrifying abilities. But you kept your focus, searching for the section you had come here for.

Incubus demons.

When you finally reached the right section, your heart pounded in your chest. The words jumped off the page, unsettlingly familiar. It was like the book was confirming everything you had felt and the more you read, the clearer it became that this was no coincidence.

Incubi, it said, were demons who thrived on energy—specifically life force. They were known to seduce their victims, using dreams, lust, and an overwhelming need for intimacy to drain them. They were powerful, manipulating their prey until they were completely drained, their energy absorbed by the demon.

But what caught your eye was the last part.

"Once an incubus claims someone, it forms a bond—one that cannot be easily broken. The victim becomes a vessel, their soul linked to the demon’s for eternity."

You froze, a cold shiver crawling down your spine. Eternity. Was that what had happened to you? Had you unknowingly made a pact with something otherworldly?

You could feel your pulse quicken as your mind raced. Had you been claimed by the demon? Was it already too late to turn back?

You closed the book abruptly, the sound of it thudding against the counter loudly. You couldn’t breathe. Your stomach twisted, and for a brief moment, you thought you might collapse right there.

Just then, you heard a voice, soft but clear, cutting through the storm of thoughts in your head.

"Are you okay?"

You looked up, startled, and saw Sunghoon standing there, a stack of books in his hands. His eyes were searching your face, brows furrowed in concern.

"Uh... yeah, I’m fine," you stammered, trying to act normal. But you could feel the flush creeping up your neck, the words of the book still fresh in your mind. You quickly gathered your composure and grabbed the books from him, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feelings swirling inside you.

You ran the books through the system, scanning the barcodes one by one, all the while acutely aware of how close Sunghoon was standing.

As you glanced down at the books, you couldn't help but notice the titles—all of them were romance novels. It felt... strange. You glanced back at Sunghoon, trying to read his expression.

"Romance, huh?" you said, attempting to make small talk as you finished scanning the last one. "Didn’t peg you for someone into these kinds of books."

He chuckled softly, a low, smooth sound that made your heart skip again. "I’m not really. But, you know, sometimes it's good to pretend."

You blinked, unsure if you were reading too much into the comment. His smile didn’t help—he always had that air of mystery, like he was saying something and nothing at the same time.

"Thanks for helping with the book earlier," you added, trying to steer the conversation back to something neutral. "I appreciate it."

He shrugged, grabbing the books from on the counter. "No problem. Just looking out for you."

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. It felt like more than just a casual statement. Like he knew something you didn’t. Something you didn’t want to know.

You tried to push the feeling down. You had to stay focused. "Anything else you need?" you asked, attempting to keep things professional.

Sunghoon just smiled again, that strange glimmer in his eyes never fading. "For now, no," he said, his tone teasing. "But I’ll be around."

--

When your shift finally ended, the night had already settled in, the streets now cast in shadows. You clutched your bag tightly as you walked, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Eventually, you found yourself at the bridge, standing on the edge, the water below reflecting the lights.

You opened your bag, pulling out the crimson red book, the one you had tried so desperately to get rid of. As you held it, you could feel something radiating from it—a pull, tempting you to keep it, to keep following.

You shook, unable to tear your gaze away from the book, as if it were alive, trying to draw you into its dark power. What had happened to you? What had you gotten yourself into?

A cold sweat broke out along your spine, and for a moment, you thought you might lose control. With trembling hands, you lifted the book to toss it into the water, ready to rid yourself of it once and for all.

But just as you were about to throw it off the bridge, you heard a voice behind you, low and rough.

"Hey," the voice called out, sending a shiver down your spine.

You froze, heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you turned around.

Standing there was a man—a stranger. His features were sharp, his eyes narrowed in a way that made your stomach turn. There was something off about him, something unsettling in the way he watched you. His gaze was degrading, as if he had already sized you up.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here alone?" he asked, his voice slithering through the air.

You instinctively took a step back, clutching the book tighter in your hands, there was no mistaking the way his eyes lingered on you, his stare lingering a little too long.

His lips twisted into a grin, and it made your blood run cold. "You don't look like you're in a hurry to leave."

His tone, that smile—everything about him screamed danger, your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you fought the urge to run, but your feet felt rooted to the spot.

Your breath caught in your throat as the man took a step toward you, his hand reaching out with an unsettling determination. This was it. He was going to—

Suddenly, there was a sharp thud, and the man was thrown backward, crashing to the ground with a pained grunt.

You gasped, startled, and watched in disbelief as a familiar figure stepped besides you.

Sunghoon.

Without hesitation, he lunged at the man, throwing a fist that landed with a sickening crack against the stranger’s face. The man tried to scramble to his feet, but Sunghoon was relentless, his fists moving with precision, each punch landing harder than the last. You could hear the force of each strike, the sound of flesh hitting bone. The man barely had a chance to defend himself, crumpling beneath the force of Sunghoon’s blows.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, transfixed by the brutal scene before you. There was something terrifyingly powerful about Sunghoon right now, his movements were swift and calculated, as if he were punishing the man for something more than just the assault on you.

Your hands shook as you held the book tighter to your chest, you didn’t know why, but it felt like it was alive, pulsing in your grip.

The book was vibrating, faintly at first, but then stronger, almost as though it was purring, responding to the violence — to you.

You ignored it, trying to focus on what was happening in front of you. Sunghoon wasn’t stopping, his anger mounting with each punch.

The man on the ground groaned, clearly dazed, unable to defend himself. Finally, Sunghoon stopped, standing over the man, his breath coming in heavy, measured gasps.

"You shouldn’t have done that," Sunghoon said, his voice low and dangerous, his gaze unwavering. He turned to look at you, eyes locking with yours.

You were still frozen, your heart pounding in your chest, and you couldn’t make sense of it all. The way Sunghoon was acting, the way he looked at you—it was like he wasn’t the same person you’d met in the library. This was someone else.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice softer now, though there was still a sharpness to it.

You nodded, though your voice felt stuck in your throat. You couldn’t even find the words to thank him, or to ask why he’d come out of nowhere to help you. Why was he here?

Sunghoon glanced down at the man on the ground, his expression unreadable, before he turned to you again, taking a step closer.

"You’re safe now," he said, his voice more comforting this time, though the intensity never fully left his gaze.

Your hands trembled as you clutched the book tighter, trying to shake off the strange feeling it was giving you.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning you before he helped you steady yourself.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, his tone lighter, he glanced at the book in your hands, and that smile of his grew, just slightly, as if pleased.

He led you away from the bridge, the cool night air now feeling heavy around you. His presence beside you was comforting, but at the same time, you couldn’t ignore the sense that he was guiding you in more ways than one.

You looked up at him, and he caught your gaze, his smile widening ever so slightly. "Seems like you’ve taken quite the interest in that," he said, his voice soft but with an edge you couldn’t quite place. "You’re holding it tightly."

Your fingers ached as you continued to clutch the book to your chest, your heart still hammering from the encounter. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, too overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

"You shouldn’t have to worry anymore," he said, his voice lowering. “You’re safe now.”

Then why did something not feel right? Sunghoon was far too calm, too understanding. As if he already knew everything—everything that had been happening to you.

The way he looked at you, like he was watching, waiting for something.

And for the first time, you realized something that made your stomach twist in unease.

He wasn’t just helping you.

He was guiding you.

--

The moment you stepped through the door of your apartment, you immediately noticed it. The book was still pressed against your chest, and for the first time, it felt almost suffocating. You hadn’t even realized how tightly you had been holding onto it the entire time—your knuckles white. It was like it had become a part of you, and that realization twisted something deep within your gut.

You couldn't stand it anymore.

Without even thinking, you hurled the book against the wall, your heart racing as the impact caused it to thud loudly, the book sliding to the floor. The sound echoed in the quiet apartment, and you could feel your breath catch in your throat, as if your body had finally caught up to the chaos inside your mind.

For a moment, there was silence. The book lay on the floor, the cover staring up at you, as if mocking your decision. But you were too exhausted to care anymore. Too worn out by everything that had happened.

You stumbled fowards, your legs giving way, and before you knew it, you were sinking onto the couch. Your mind was foggy, too tired to think. Your body ached, your head pounded, but the exhaustion was overpowering. The last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered shut was the book, sitting on the floor.

And the only thing you could think of as you drifted off was how you felt that it wasn’t done with you yet.

--

You felt so... relaxed? It was like your body was weightless, wrapped in warmth and comfort. The air was thick, almost too hot, and the bed beneath you felt too soft, like sinking into a cloud. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling above you. A grand queen-sized bed stretched out beneath you, luxurious sheets tangled around your legs.

Your head was still foggy, like you were waking from a deep, dreamless sleep. But the discomfort of the heat around you was immediate, and you instinctively pushed the covers away, trying to breathe through the thick air.

That’s when you felt it.

A weight on your body, pressing down, holding you where you lay. Your breath hitched as the sensation of someone’s lips—warm, urgent—pressed against yours. The shock of it made your chest tighten, and you gasped, eyes wide as you tried to push the figure off of you, only to find you couldn’t move.

A voice, soft but laced with something darker, echoed in your mind, almost like a whisper, “Give in.”

Your body stiffened, the words familiar yet chilling. The lips on yours were insistent, coaxing you into submission. You couldn't understand—how did you get here? Why was everything so warm? And why did you feel this strange pull?

The kiss deepened as your breath quickened, and the moment your hands tried to reach above you, they tightened their grip. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

You wanted to push away. You wanted to scream. But you couldn’t. You were trapped in this sensation, helpless.

You felt so good. So pleasant. Every part of you hummed with a warmth, an overwhelming comfort, like sinking into the softest dream. But with it came an exhaustion, a draining weariness you couldn't fight.

As the lips moved from your mouth down to your jaw, trailing soft, slow kisses, you felt your body go limp beneath them. You tried to stay alert, to keep your mind sharp, but the sensation was too much. The warmth, the pleasure, it was like it was melting you from the inside out. Your energy, your strength, seemed to vanish with every kiss, every press of lips against your sensitive skin. You couldn't fight it. It felt too good.

A small gasp escaped your lips as they moved lower, their touch leaving a trail of warmth on your neck, then your collarbone. The sensation was both soothing and dizzying, like you were drifting between wakefulness and sleep. You felt so tired, but the pleasure pulling you under kept you from fully giving in.

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, quickening with each new kiss, each lingering touch. The sound of your breath was louder than the rest of the world, but even that was fading. You could barely hold onto your thoughts, the desire to move, to push, slipped further and further away.

And then you realized—there was nothing you could do. You didn’t want to.

You felt something deep inside you stir, a craving, a hunger that matched the pull of the lips against your skin. You were being drained, yes, but it also felt like it was what you needed.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to it. You let your body go, let the exhaustion wash over you, let yourself fall into the warmth of the kiss. You didn’t even care where it was leading anymore.

You felt your body give in completely as the lips on your neck paused, lingering there, and you could hear the soft hum of approval, a low sound of satisfaction. And just like that, it was too late to resist.

As you surrendered to the moment, the hands, ever so gently, pushed your shirt up, exposing more of your skin, as the heat in the room seemed to rise.

The lips, now free to explore, trailed kisses down your stomach, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. His hands slid down to your waist, he squeezed gently, pulling you closer, and you felt his body press against yours.

You didn’t want to fight it anymore. Your body was giving in, responding to him, reacting in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. It was as though you were caught in a web, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

His lips moved from your neck, tracing the sensitive line of your jaw before they found your lips again, kissing you. The kiss was hungry now, deeper. You felt his hands tighten around you, as though he couldn’t get close enough, as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

And somehow, it felt... right.

You felt so hazy, your mind clouded by a warm, soothing fog that made it impossible to think clearly. Everything was blurred, all thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand. The weight of your body felt distant, like you were floating. You couldn’t move your limbs, couldn’t even feel them anymore.

The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of the lips that pressed gently against yours, warm and insistent. Every time they left, it felt like you were waiting, craving the return of that contact. And when they did, you kissed them back instinctively, your lips parting slightly to welcome them.

"Let go," it murmured softly, the sound of it like silk against your mind. "Enjoy this. Let the pleasure take over. You deserve it."

You shivered, feeling the warmth of the words settle deep inside you, pushing aside any lingering doubts, any hesitation. The voice continued, coaxing you, convincing you that this feeling, this moment, was all that mattered. That you didn’t need to resist, that you could simply surrender and feel everything without fear.

There was no fight left in you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely at peace. You didn’t have to think, you didn’t have to worry— just the feeling of being taken care of, loved, and wanted.

You closed your eyes, lost in the comfort, the warmth, and the voice that guided you deeper into the haze.

--

You woke up suddenly, your mind heavy, still clouded in a haze, and found yourself lying on the couch. You blinked, trying to shake off the fog, and as you looked around, everything seemed perfectly normal.

One thing wasn't normal, though. It was the warmth, the sticky, almost suffocating heat clinging to your skin, like honey trapping you in its sweetness. The sensation was odd, and it was paired with an exhaustion that weighed you down, a tiredness so deep you could barely keep your eyes open.

You managed to sit up and push yourself to your feet, dragging yourself to the bathroom, needing to see your reflection, needing to understand what was happening. The mirror greeted you with an unexpected shock.

Your neck and collarbone were covered in marks—deep, almost bruised-looking impressions, some faint, others dark, like someone had pressed their lips into your skin too hard, leaving their mark. You barely recognized the face staring back at you. Your cheeks were flushed, the kind of flush you’d never get from just a long day, and your eyes looked distant.

You kept staring at your reflection, eyes wide in disbelief, and slowly pulled your shirt off, but what greeted you beneath your clothes made your breath catch in your throat.

Handprints. Dark, unmistakable imprints stretched across your waist, your hips, and even down to your thighs. It was like someone had gripped you there with force, leaving their mark on your skin, as if they couldn’t resist claiming every part of you.

You stood there, frozen, trying to make sense of what you were seeing. The more you looked, the more it seemed to confirm your theory.

An incubus had done this.

But the memories were murky, like a dream fading in the light of day. You couldn't remember the specifics, but the evidence was undeniable.

You were cursed.

The thought sent a shiver through your body. There was no other explanation. It was all pointing to something beyond your control, something that wanted you, that had claimed you.

But what did it want from you? Why you?

The mirror reflected your confusion, your unease, and your disbelief. Your hand instinctively reached up to touch the marks, your fingers brushing lightly over your skin. Each touch sent a wave of heat through you, a reminder that something was still there, still affecting you, even when you had no idea what was really going on.

--

Days passed in a strange blur after that. Each time you tried to focus, tried to pull yourself together, the exhaustion dragged you down further. You couldn’t remember when it had started, when your body began to feel like it was no longer your own, but it was now a part of your reality. Every night, you’d find yourself drifting off to sleep, only to wake up once again in that grand bed, under the same warmth, your body burning.

The familiar sensation of lips on yours, the heat of his hands—each kiss drained you, leaving you weak and confused. It felt as though the very life force was being sucked out of you, but you were too tired to resist. Too tired to care. The next morning, you would wake up again, just as exhausted, with the marks on your skin deepening, the imprint of his touch still there. You tried to push through the haze, but it felt like you were walking through quicksand.

And then there was Sunghoon.

He was there for you in ways you couldn’t explain. It started small—offering to walk you to class, making sure you ate something, checking in on you when you seemed too tired to function. You didn’t fight it. You were too exhausted to.

You would often find yourself slumped at the counter, fighting to keep your eyes open, and there he was, showing up with something to drink or a comforting word, offering you a brief respite from the overwhelming fatigue that seemed to cling to your every movement. You didn’t realize at first that you were relying on him, leaning on him without question.

But Sunghoon didn’t mind. In fact, he thrived in this new dynamic, in your dependence on him. He reveled in the way you’d look to him for comfort, for answers, for protection. You didn’t know how much it fed into his desires, how much he enjoyed being the one to offer you care, to have you rely on him completely.

And you? You were too tired to notice. Too lost in the fog of exhaustion, the haze of what was happening to you.

But.. the more time you spent with Sunghoon, the more you began to notice the oddities that you’d once brushed off. He was always there, always watching, always making sure you were okay. But something about him felt... off. It wasn’t just his constant attention—it was the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, before you even asked for it. It was the way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, his smile a little too knowing, like he was seeing something in you that no one else did.

Then, there was the issue with his past. Sunghoon never spoke about it. When you asked about his family or where he grew up, his answers were vague, brushing off the topic with a quick change of subject. No traces of a life outside of the moments he spent with you.

It didn’t make sense. You had seen him around campus, so you knew he wasn’t a complete ghost. But there were no photos, no friends tagging him on social media, no history to trace. He was just... there. As if he had stepped out of nowhere and appeared in your life, and now he was all you could focus on.

Something about him felt wrong, and the pieces were starting to fall into place. But you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning on him, allowing him to take care of you. You didn’t know what to think anymore, especially since you were so tired, so lost in the fog of exhaustion that you couldn’t tell if your thoughts were your own or if they were being influenced by something else.

So, you decided to test your theory—to see what would happen if you suddenly started ignoring him. It wasn’t easy. Sunghoon always seemed to find a way to be around you, whether it was sitting next to you in class or showing up at the library while you worked. But you were determined. You stopped texting him back, avoided his gaze, and made excuses to leave whenever he tried to engage you in conversation.

At first, he didn’t seem bothered by it. He would simply smile when you dodged him, as if he already knew why you were doing it. That unnerved you more than anything else. It was like he could see right through you, like he knew your thoughts before you did.

But as the days went on, his demeanor started to shift. His smiles became tighter, his gaze colder, and the once-comforting presence he exuded started to feel suffocating. He wasn’t following you outright, but every time you turned a corner, you’d catch him in your peripheral vision—leaning against a wall, walking just a few steps behind you, always near enough to remind you that he was there.

One night, after a particularly long shift at the library, you came home and collapsed onto your couch, exhaustion washing over you. The moment you closed your eyes, you found yourself back in that bed again.

But this time, there was a whisper. A deep, seductive voice you hadn’t heard before.

"You can’t ignore me forever."

Your eyes snapped open, your heart pounding. You were back on your couch, drenched in sweat, and your hands were trembling. You instinctively gripped the edge of the couch as you tried to ground yourself, but the tremor in your fingers betrayed how shaken you really were. The room was quiet—too quiet. It felt as though something was watching you, just out of sight.

Your gaze darted toward the windows, scanning for any sign of movement, but the curtains were still drawn shut. Slowly, you reached for your phone on the coffee table, wanting the comfort of a light, a distraction—anything. As the screen lit up, you noticed the time. 3:03 a.m.

And then you saw it.

A single notification. It wasn’t from anyone in your contacts, just an unknown number. You hesitated before opening it, dread settling in your stomach like a lead weight. The message read:

"Stop running."

You dropped the phone as though it had burned you, the clatter breaking the suffocating silence. Your breaths came shallow and quick as you stared at the device, afraid it would light up again.

No. This had to stop.

You pushed yourself off the couch and stumbled to the bathroom, your legs weak beneath you. Splashing cold water on your face, you tried to steady your breathing.

You gripped the edge of the sink, your knuckles turning white as you leaned forward, staring at your pale reflection in the mirror. Your breaths came shallow and uneven as you tried to process everything.

It didn’t make sense—none of it did. But your thoughts kept circling back to Sunghoon. His perfect timing, his uncanny presence, the way he seemed to know more than he let on.

Your throat felt dry as you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to say it.

“Sunghoon?”

The sound of his name echoed faintly in the small bathroom. You waited, holding your breath, your heart pounding louder and louder in your chest. Nothing happened.

For a moment, you felt ridiculous, like you were spiraling into paranoia. You let out a shaky exhale and closed your eyes, trying to collect yourself. But then, just as you started to relax, you felt it.

A heat began to radiate behind you, warm and heavy, pressing against your back like a presence. The air shifted, and before you could react, a soft whisper brushed against your ear.

“Did you miss me?”

Your eyes snapped open, wide with terror, as you froze in place. The mirror reflected nothing behind you, but the heat remained, and the voice lingered, teasingly low and intimate.

“Y-you’re not real,” you stammered, gripping the sink tighter, refusing to turn around.

The voice chuckled, soft and amused. “Oh, but I am. You called me, didn’t you? Thinking of me? Dreaming of me?”

A shiver ran down your spine as the warmth seemed to creep closer, pressing against you like an invisible embrace. You gasped, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of whatever was behind you.

“I-I wasn’t—”

“Liar,” the voice interrupted, a trace of playfulness in its tone. “You’ve been looking for answers, haven’t you?”

You felt something brush against your shoulder, light as a feather but enough to make your skin tingle. Your breathing quickened as the sensation spread, leaving you dizzy and disoriented.

“Stop,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

But the voice only hummed in response, low and pleased. “You can’t run from me. You’ve known that all along.”

“I never wanted this!” you shouted, your voice trembling but firm, defiance breaking through your fear. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”

The air around you grew colder, and suddenly a hand—a firm, invisible grip—wrapped around your throat. You gasped, your hands flying up instinctively to claw at nothing.

“Oh, but you did,” the voice purred, smooth and dark, vibrating through the room. The grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your pulse race, but not enough to harm you. It was a warning.

“You put this on yourself the moment you read the words in that book,” the voice hissed, hot breath fanning over your ear. “Qui me legit, fiat noster ligamen aeternum. Do you even know what that means?”

You shook your head frantically, tears pricking at your eyes as you struggled against the phantom hand holding you in place. The voice chuckled, low and condescending.

“It means, ‘Who reads me, let our bond be eternal.’ You invited me in.”

Your breath hitched as the words hit you like a punch to the gut. The book. The book in the basement. The words you read aloud.

“That’s not possible,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “It’s just a stupid book. It—it can’t be real!”

The laughter that followed was sharp, almost mocking. “Oh, it’s very real. And now, so am I.”

In the mirror, the reflection began to change. The shadow behind you shifted, growing more defined, more solid. Your eyes widened in horror as the silhouette morphed, taking shape, and then—

There he was.

Sunghoon.

Your heart stopped. You couldn’t believe it, but there was no mistaking him. The sharp jawline, the intense gaze, the faint smirk curling his lips. It was him.

Sunghoon stood behind you, his hand still firmly around your throat, his touch searing and impossible to ignore. His other hand came to rest lightly on your waist, and you shivered under the weight.

“Surprise,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as his eyes locked with yours in the mirror.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, panic rising in your chest. “This— you’re not—”

“Not what?” Sunghoon interrupted, tilting his head as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Not human? Not the man who’s been taking care of you? Or not the one who’s been in your dreams, night after night?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. The pieces were falling into place, but they painted a picture you didn’t want to see.

“You were so lonely,” Sunghoon continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “So desperate for someone to understand you. And I came to you, didn’t I? Gave you exactly what you needed.”

His hand on your waist tightened slightly, his grip on your throat loosening just enough for you to take a shaky breath.

“But you’re scared now. Why?” he asked, his tone almost teasing, as if he already knew the answer. “You’ve enjoyed this, haven’t you? The attention, the way I’ve made you feel.”

“No,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “You tricked me. This isn’t what I wanted.”

Sunghoon’s smirk widened, his reflection in the mirror impossibly calm, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “But you can’t lie to me.”

“We’re bound now, you and I,” he whispered, his voice soft but laced with finality. “You can’t run from me. You can’t hide. And deep down, you don’t want to.”

You stared at him in the mirror, your chest heaving, your mind screaming for you to fight back, to do something, anything. But your body betrayed you, frozen in place as Sunghoon’s reflection smiled, dark and triumphant.

His grip tightened around your arms as he suddenly spun you around effortlessly, your back slamming against the cold countertop. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the impact sent a jolt through your body, and you found yourself face to face with him.

Only... it wasn’t entirely him.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you took in his appearance. Sunghoon was still the same—his sharp features, his impossibly handsome face—but now, his true form was on full display.

Two curved, jet-black horns protruded from his head, his ears were pointed, inhumanly sharp, twitching slightly as though attuned to every sound you made. A pair of massive, leathery wings stretched out behind him. His skin held a faint reddish tint now, and his eyes...

They weren’t what you’d grown accustomed to.

They were blood-red, burning with an intensity that made your knees weak.

As your gaze traveled lower, you caught sight of a sleek black tail swishing behind him, the pointed tip moving back and forth like a serpent poised to strike.

“Like what you see?” Sunghoon asked, his voice low and smooth, laced with amusement.

You couldn’t answer. Your lips parted, but no sound came out as you stared up at him, utterly frozen. He leaned in closer, the heat radiating from him making it even harder to think, to breathe.

“You should’ve known,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You should’ve felt it. I’ve been hiding in plain sight this whole time, waiting for you to figure it out.”

“Sunghoon...” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling as you tried to push him away, but your arms felt like they were moving through water—slow, weak, powerless.

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent heat flooding through your chest. “Still clinging to the illusion, huh? Poor thing.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with an almost tender touch.

“This is the real me,” he said softly, his voice dripping with dangerous charm. “And now that you’ve seen it, there’s no going back.” His wings shifted slightly behind him, the sound making your stomach twist in unease. His tail flicked once, curling against your leg in a way that made your skin crawl—and, to your shame, sent a strange warmth pooling in your chest.

“You’re lying,” you said weakly, your voice barely audible. “This isn’t happening...”

Sunghoon tilted his head, his expression softening just enough to make it even more unsettling. “Lying?” he repeated, his voice almost offended. “Sweet thing, everything I’ve done has been the truth. You just didn’t want to see it.”

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his red eyes locking onto yours with a hypnotic intensity. “But now you can’t ignore it, can you? You can’t ignore me.”

You gasped, your body trembling as his tail coiled tighter around your leg, holding you in place. “You belong to me now,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice final. “And nothing will change that.”

You clenched your eyes shut, your entire body trembling as you willed it all to disappear. You thought maybe—just maybe—if you denied it long enough, it would go away. That he would go away.

But it didn’t work.

Instead, you heard his low, amused chuckle. The sound was rich and dark, crawling into your ears and embedding itself into your mind.

“You can’t escape me,” he murmured. And before you could protest, his lips crashed against yours, stealing your breath and overwhelming your senses.

The kiss was searing, a fire that burned its way through your body and left you paralyzed. It wasn’t soft or careful—it was commanding, leaving no room for resistance.

Sunghoon...

Sunghoon was an incubus.

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to fight, but your body wouldn’t listen. The warmth from his lips spread through you like molten lava, making you weak, making you feel... good. Too good.

You tried to turn your head, to break the connection, but his hand gripped your jaw firmly, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a skill that made your knees feel like jelly, and the heat radiating off him felt almost suffocating.

When he finally pulled back, your head spun, your breaths shallow and uneven. His glowing red eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the satisfaction etched across his face.

“See?” he purred, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’re not resisting me.”

You shook your head weakly, trying to deny it. “You’re not... I won’t...” you stammered, but even as the words left your lips, they sounded hollow.

Sunghoon leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You already gave yourself to me the moment you opened that book.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you struggled to comprehend his words. You’d read the words without understanding what they meant, unknowingly binding yourself to him.

“You belong to me now,” he said, his voice soft but firm, his hand trailing down to rest on your waist. “No running. No escaping.”

His tail flicked lazily at his side, as if he were toying with you, enjoying your fear and confusion.

“I’ll take care of you,” Sunghoon continued, his tone shifting to something almost... tender. “You won’t need anyone else. You won’t want anyone else.”

You clenched your fists, trying to fight against the pull he had on you, the way his words seemed to seep into your mind like poison.

“What do you want from me?” you finally managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I already have what I want,” he said simply, his hand tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look away. “You.”

His hand slid up to your throat again, his grip firm but not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you who was in control. You gasped, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, and before you could think or protest, his lips captured yours again.

This time, the kiss was more intense. It was intoxicating, a dizzying, heady sensation that left you feeling drunk and high at the same time, though there wasn’t a hint of nausea.

Instead, you felt consumed, like your body and mind were being submerged in a warm ocean. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

Your hands gripped the edge of the bathroom counter behind you, trying to ground yourself, but the heat only grew. It curled in your stomach, spread up your spine, and flooded every corner of your being.

Sunghoon’s lips left yours only briefly, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed down your jaw, tracing a path to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You couldn’t respond, your head spinning, your body trembling. Every word he spoke seemed to sink into your skin, fusing with your very being.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing over your ear. “No one else can make you feel like this. No one else can take care of you like I can.”

When he finally pulled back, his red eyes burned into yours, glowing with satisfaction.

“Say it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your pulse. ��Say you’re mine.”

You hesitated, your lips parting, but no words came out. Your mind was a swirling mess of emotions, torn between the primal pull he had over you and the small flicker of defiance still burning in your chest.

Sunghoon leaned closer, his smirk returning as he tilted your chin up slightly. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’ll say it soon enough.”

With that, he released you, stepping back just enough to let you breathe, though the heat still clung to your skin like a second layer. Your knees felt weak, your body trembling, and you gripped the counter to keep from collapsing.

“Rest for now,” he said, his tone almost affectionate. “We’ll see each other again soon.”

And with a flick of his tail and a low hum of satisfaction, he vanished, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bathroom, your body still warm and your mind reeling from what had just happened.

--

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Sunghoon’s persistence wasn’t just some fleeting infatuation—it was something far deeper. When an incubus claimed a human, it seemed, their desire turned into a relentless obsession. Sunghoon took every opportunity to have you, to pull you into the haze of his presence, leaving you breathless and weak in his wake.

In the library, you were shelving books in the far corner, but then, you felt it—the familiar warmth crawling up your spine. Before you could turn, his hands were on your waist, spinning you around and pressing you against the shelf.

“Sunghoon—” you started, but your words were cut off as his lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry.

The books nearly toppled from the shelf as his body pinned you in place. His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tightly before lifting you up effortlessly, your back pressed to the shelf. His kisses left you dizzy, your hands clinging to his shoulders for balance as his lips trailed down your jaw, his voice low murmurs.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your body trembling. He smiled, his red eyes glowing faintly. “Couldn’t help myself,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

In the kitchen, you thought you’d have a moment of peace as you cooked dinner, but of course, he appeared again.

You didn’t even hear him approach before his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter.

“Sunghoon!” you protested, but your voice wavered as his lips found yours, silencing any resistance.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them slightly as he stood between them, his kisses consuming. The heat of the stove was nothing compared to the fire he ignited in you with every touch.

“You taste better than anything you’re cooking,” he teased against your lips, as you shivered under his touch.

Even in class, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. At first, it was subtle—a hand resting on your thigh under the desk. But his touch was anything but innocent. His fingers pressed into your skin, his grip firm enough to leave an imprint through the fabric of your jeans.

One day, you made the mistake of wearing a skirt to class. His reaction was immediate.

His eyes darkened the moment he saw you, his gaze lingering on your legs with a hunger. The skirt seemed to drive him wild, and he didn’t bother to hide the want in his eyes as he took the seat beside you.

During the lecture, his hand found its way to your thigh again, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on your bare skin. Every touch sent shivers up your spine, your pulse quickening as his grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“You wore this for me, didn’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You didn’t answer, your face burning as you tried to focus on the professor’s voice. But Sunghoon wasn’t letting you off so easily. His hand slid higher, just enough to make you squirm in your seat.

By the end of class, you were a mess, your legs trembling as you tried to stand. Sunghoon, of course, looked perfectly composed.

But one event made you realize just how far Sunghoon's obsession had gone happened unexpectedly.

You had just finished getting ready, dressed to go out to the club, your outfit on point, and your makeup perfectly done. You were about to put on some music for the drive when suddenly, you heard a soft hum from behind you.

The sound was so familiar, so calming that you couldn’t help but pause. The familiar haze crept in, clouding your thoughts. Before you could even process what was happening, you felt a shift in your surroundings. The next thing you knew, you were no longer sitting in the front seat of your car but instead found yourself in the backseat, sitting on Sunghoon's lap.

“You going somewhere?” he asked, his voice smooth, leaning back, his eyes filled with contentment. He seemed to be enjoying the view of you on his lap, your body pressed against his, all dressed up.

You were about to move off, muttering to yourself about how utterly stupid this situation was.

However, before you could push him away, Sunghoon's hands went around your hips. He pulled you closer, his body pressing into yours, and then, with a sudden thrust, he lifted you off his lap.

The movement was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. You let out a surprised squeal as you found yourself being moved to lay down on the backseat. Sunghoon hovered over you, his body pressing down on yours, his eyes filled with a fiery passion.

You were on the brink of speaking, your mind filled with thoughts you wanted to express, when suddenly, Sunghoon's lips crashed down on yours, silencing your words in an instant.

His lips, soft yet demanding, devoured yours, a perfect blend of tenderness and dominance. Sunghoon groaned into the kiss, a deep, raw sound that reverberated through your core. His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. And as his kiss deepened, you felt him wrap your legs around his hips. You could feel the heat of his body, the solidness of his muscles, and the intensity.

You felt a sudden urge to pull away, to regain some sense of control and composure. With a gentle push, you tried to create some distance between you and Sunghoon. But Sunghoon, ever attuned to your every move, wasn’t about to let you escape so easily. As you tried to shift, reaching for the car door, his hands swiftly grabbed your waist, his strong arms pulling you closer. His chest pressed against your back, and you turned your head, your breath quickening as Sunghoon leaned over, his face now inches from yours.

His voice, soft and teasing, broke through your thoughts. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his tone low, almost playful.

You couldn’t find the words to answer, but you could feel the heat rising between you.

Sunghoon, sensing your hesitation, nuzzled his face against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The soft touch of his lips traced a path along your neck, sending a jolt of warmth through you. You shivered at the sensation, unable to stop the flutter in your chest.

"Sunghoon..." you breathed, trying to push him away again, but his hands tightened around your waist. He didn’t let you move, holding you there.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “You want me to slow down?” he teased, his voice amused.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat between you both. The car, once cool, now felt stifling, the air thick. You glanced over at the windows, noticing that the glass had fogged up, the condensation creeping in.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you tried to focus, but it was hard with him so near, his breath warm against your neck. You could feel him pressed against your back, his hands still holding you close.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely a breath, caught between uncertainty and desire. You shifted slightly, trying to pull away, but he gently tugged you back, his lips hovering just above your ear.

“Why resist?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but there was an edge to it, a quiet demand. His lips brushed against your earlobe, sending another shiver down your spine. “We both know you don’t want to.”

The fog on the windows seemed to grow thicker, the air growing warmer with every passing second, as if the space between you was becoming smaller.

You didn’t answer him right away, just closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to clear your mind.

But Sunghoon's voice broke the silence as he gazed at you. "You look perfect," he said, his eyes roving over your body, taking in every detail. "So delectable, it's as if you're offering yourself on a silver platter."

His hands, which had been resting on your waist, slowly slid downwards, tracing the curves of your hips with a gentle touch.

"I want to ruin your makeup," he said, his voice low. "I want to mark you as mine, to leave my touch on you."

His hands, which had been gently caressing your body, suddenly tightened around your hips. With a swift movement, he flipped you over, and you found yourself lying on your back, staring up at him with surprise.

"I want to look at you," he said, his voice low and intense. "I want to see your beautiful face, your eyes, your lips, as I kiss you."

His lips, soft yet demanding, pressed against yours, a perfect show of passion. His hands roamed freely, tracing the curves of your body. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, a gentle caress that sent a rush of pleasure through your body.

Guess this is what happens when you get claimed by an incubus in love.

a/n: well.. i have no other words. this had been sitting in my drafts for awhile so, yeah :)

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[oldsoul007]

Whispers in the Ward

doctorcharliemayhewxnursereader

a/n: I wanted to write about Dr. Charlie even tho I love father charlie. Sooo this is kinda following the plot but y/n and charlie were together in Lois coma…. not proofread

Dr. Charlie Mayhew was a dedicated and skilled physician, known for his calm demeanor and exceptional care. Me, equally committed and compassionate, worked alongside him in the bustling hospital. We had a great professional relationship, often relying on each other during the most challenging cases.

One day, we were assigned to care for a patient named Mrs. Lois Tryon , who had been in a coma for several weeks. Miraculously, Mrs. Tryon woke up one afternoon when Dr. Charlie was assigned to pass her on, much to the delight of Charlie and I. As she slowly regained her strength, she began sharing vivid dreams she had experienced during her coma to a specialist.

"You two were always together in her dreams," the specialist told us."It was like you were a couple, always by each other's side, as a priest and detective, but in some perverted ways.” Charlie and Lauren exchanged amused glances, at the specialist comments. "Well, we're just good colleagues," Charlie said, smiling. I felt a little pit in my stomach when he said that.

As the days went by, the specialist words lingered in my mind. I found myself thinking about him more often, noticing little things I hadn't before. Sure charlie is an attractive guy but I never thought I’d be with him in that way. He’s my boss, I appreciated Charlie's wisdom and gentle nature.

One evening, after a particularly long shift, we ended up in elevator together. As the elevator doors slid shut, the air between Dr. Charlie and me crackled with unspoken tension. “Maybe Mrs. Tryon was onto something," Charlie said, breaking the comfortable silence. "I've been thinking a lot about what the specialist told us she said, and I can't help but wonder if there's more between us than just being colleagues."

I looked into his eyes, feeling a flutter in my chest. "I've been thinking the same thing, Charlie. I really enjoy spending time with you, and I think there's something special between us." "Let's see where this goes, y/n. I think we owe it to ourselves to find out." Without another word, Charlie closed the distance between us, his hands gently cupping my face. Their eyes met, and in that instant, the world outside the elevator ceased to exist. Slowly, he leaned in, our breaths mingling as our lips finally met in a searing kiss.

The kiss was intense, filled with all the passion and longing we had kept bottled up for so long. Charlie's hands slid down to my waist, pulling me closer as our bodies pressed together. My fingers tangled in his hair, deepening the kiss as i poured all my feelings into that one moment.

Time seemed to stand still as we kissed, the elevator continuing its silent ascent. When we finally pulled apart, both were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other.

As the elevator doors opened, we knew that nothing would ever be the same.

[vivwritesfics]

The Bad Luck Boy

This is the story of the bad luck boy and the two people he loved.

2.3K

LeStappen x reader

This is the story of the Bad Luck Boy.

The Bad Luck Boy was a nice boy. He was polite and sweet, making those around him smile.

The Bad Luck Boy was a hard working boy. His career was his everything. Well, almost his everything.

The Bad Luck Boy was a handsome boy. Everybody knew it, including his teammate and his biggest rival.

Y/N L/N had known the Bad Luck Boy since her karting days. They raced each other, pushing each other off the track. Together, they moved into Formula Three. Together, they moved into Formula 2. When Charles won the F2 championship, he graduated up into Formula One, while Y/N was still stuck in F2.

She herself won the championship in 2018 and, by 2019, she was racing alongside Kimi Räikkönen in Alfa Romeo Racing. Two years later, after proving herself and scoring a podium in the Alfa Romeo car, Y/N L/N was offered the second seat in Ferrari.

When they were kids, Y/N and the Bad Luck Boy raced in karts alongside Max Emilian Verstappen. Max had always been an aggressive driver, but Y/N loved the challenge. Unlike with Charles, she didn't move through her career with him, instead following in his footsteps. When Y/N moved up into F1, Max was already racing at the front of the grid; she only really got to race against him when he pitted.

The Bad Luck Boy loved his job. His job treated him like shit, though. Y/N herself struggled weekend after weekend in the SF-23, but there was nothing worse than watching the Bad Luck Boy struggle in it.

The SF-23 got Y/N around the track at least in seventh, but the Bad Luck Boy was barely making it around the track. There was one race where Y/N didn't even make it onto the track, unable to start because of the car. But watching Charles wrestle with it, hearing him on the radio, was painful enough.

The Bad Luck Boy had one thing going for him. He was in love. Better than that, he was in love with two people. His teammate and his rival.

Yes, the Bad Luck Boy had some good luck. He loved two people and those two people loved him. But it wasn't without its complications.

Y/N stood beside Max as he drank his can of Red Bull, further down the paddock, Charles was completing an interview. "Shouldn't you be down there with him?" Max asked, offering her a sip of his drink.

Y/N shook her head, refusing the drink. "Unless we're doing our challenges or media duties, I'm staying away from him," she answered him. "I can't be shouting his name across the paddock or saving him seats for the drivers parade." Her tone was somewhat bitter as she kept her eyes on the pavement.

Letting out a laugh, Max finished his drink. "Oh, come on. It's not that mad. You're standing with me now, and nothings happening."

"Because I'm not your teammate, Max. Nobody thinks there's anything going on between us, but also because they're convinced I'm trying my absolute hardest to sleep with Charles. I've seen the edits of the two of you, grabbing each others waists with blushing smiles, but I don't get to do that. If I go near Charles, I'll be called a slut and accused of trying to distract him from the race. You don't understand how badly I want to kiss the both of you but I can't."

"Kiss me, then," answered Max.

Y/N stared up at him, her eyebrows furrowed. "All this winning has gone to your head because you're losing it," he said and shook her head.

"No, I'm serious. If you kiss me and everybody thinks we're going steady, they'll leave you alone about Charles."

"And then I'll be accused of sleeping with you because you're winning."

It really was a complicated situation. Y/N could be seen to be close with Max, but nobody thought they were romantically involved. But they were wrong and Y/N loved Max more than anything.

But she also loved Charles. Her teammate. The man she was being accused of sleeping with. Which wasn't strictly a lie. But it was more than just sleeping with him, she was in love with him too.

Max let out a sigh, but he placed his arm around her, anyway. "I'll blow you a kiss when I lap you later," he said and walked away.

Their relationship was rather... depressing. They could only be together when they were alone and that was heart breaking enough. Y/N watched Max walk away, walk back to the Red Bull hospitality unit.

Letting out a breath, she strode forward, walking towards her teammate. She passed him, and Charles' eyes moved across from the interviewer, looking at her. Y/N smiled, a smile that was surely captured by cameras, and continued on, making her way towards her drivers room.

As soon as Y/N got into her drivers room, she threw herself down onto the sofa.

Y/N loved her job, she loved being a driver. But it was getting harder and harder. If driving in the SF-23 wasn't bad enough, she had to avoid one of her boyfriends at all cost. One of them she could only briefly talk to. It really fucking hurt.

***

For once the Bad Luck Boy was having some good luck. He was at the front of the grid, fighting with Max and Lando.

Y/N, though? She was struggling.

The car wasn't handling well. She'd had an okay qualifying the day before, landing her in P5. After a good start she'd ended up in P3, driving with her boyfriends. If things kept up like this, they'd all be on the podium together.

But then Y/N had ended up with a shit pit stop. They'd called her in without having the tires ready and completely fucked up her race.

Y/N managed to complete two laps after that until the car began to malfunction. The hydraulics failed and she ended up in the wall.

Nothing serious, just a lot of frustration. "Fuck, shit, fuck!" Y/N shouted into the radio as she climbed out of her car.

And then it was Charles' turn. In the next race he had engine failure.

And then Y/N had engine failure.

All of that, on top of keeping their relationship a secret, Y/N was struggling. She was really, really struggling.

It was a whispered secret, something she said to Max and Charles in the late hours of the morning, when all three of them were half asleep.

While Charles and Max slept somewhat soundly, with Charles in the middle (most of the time. It was either him or Y/N. Max insisted on sleeping to the outside of the bed, closest to the door), Y/N thought. She thought a lot, about their relationship, about whether the stress was really worth it.

As soon as these thoughts came, they left. Y/N had shaken them away by the time she woke up.

She hoped they didn't know anything, but, of course, they did. Max and Charles were all too aware. They knew exactly how she was feeling, and it hurt.

Max wanted to say something, he wanted to talk to her, but Charles wouldn't. "Max, she loves us," he said. "She's with us, and she loves us."

And, of course, Y/N really did love them. She still does. But she'd been pulling away.

Where they'd used to spend all weekend every weekend together, Y/N was suddenly sleeping in her own room without the boys snuggled up against her.

The turning point was the Mexican grand prix. The race was going well; Max was P1, with Charles and Y/N racing close behind. When all three of them managed to cross the finish line, they were ecstatic. Maybe the Bad Luck Boy didn't have that much bad luck after all.

They couldn't keep their smiles from their faces as they spray the champagne over each other. It was something of an amazing night for the three of them. They celebrated and spent the evening together, sharing a bed and each other.

But then things started going down hill again.

Y/N used to stay in Monaco. She used to spend all of her time between races going between Max's apartment and Charles'. But lately she'd been returning to her own home in Switzerland.

Max was at a breaking point. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't sit around feeling anxious because of how distant his girlfriend was being. Charles felt the same, which was somewhat comforting. They needed to do something, they needed to speak to her.

Max was going to do it, Max was going to speak to her, but Charles wouldn't let him. As much as he tried not to be, Max was aggressive, and Charles couldn't see things ending well if he was the one to speak.

So, Charles took the reins. He attempted to cook them dinner (with Max and Y/N having to help a lot), and sat her down at the table.

Dinner was peaceful. It wasn't how things used to be between them, but it was peaceful. Still, it didn't feel as though Y/N was all there, and that left a horrible feeling in the pit of Max's stomach.

After dinner, Max began clearing things away as Charles took a hold of Y/N's hands. They were soft in his own, and he ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "You know Max and I love you, right?" He asked, staring into her eyes with his lovely green ones. "You know that Max and I would do anything for you, right?"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Y/N nodded her head. She knew. Her boys were amazing, the most amazing people she knew.

"Then tell us what's going on, please."

She sucked in a deep breath and pulled her gaze away from Charles. "I love the two of you," she said. "But I hate having to hide us. I hate the comments I get whenever I'm pictured with either one of you. I hate that I can't kiss either of you when any of us end up on the podium. I hate that we can't go on traditional dates and we can't hold hands when we're walking through the paddock," she admitted.

Nodding his head, Charles leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I understand, chérie. Maybe we should think about coming out with our relationship publicly."

As Y/N and Charles had been speaking, Max had been busy doing the dishes. He loved mundane little things like this, something he didn't often do. As he listened, he shook his head. That wasn't the whole issue, not at all. It might have been a large part of it, but Max knew it wasn't the whole story.

With the towel over his shoulder, he walked into the room and leaned against the door. "Spit it out," he said to his girlfriend, his voice with a particular edge. Charles sent a glare in his direction.

"Fine," Y/N said shortly and let out a huff. "I love driving for Ferrari, but the car is dogshit. Charles, imagine how many more times we could have joined Max on the podium this year if the car wasn't a pile of crap. We could have actually beaten him! The car, with everything else I listed, has pushed me to my breaking point," she whispered and pressed Charles' hand to her forehead.

Max let out a laugh. The bastard actually laughed! He pushed away from the wall and walked over to his partners. "Schat, you're ridiculous," he said and pulled Charles hand away. "I want nothing more than to kiss you when I'm on the podium. Charlie and I want to take you out on dates and hold your hand. If we were doing that, would you feel better about how terrible the SF-23 is?"

Y/N nodded her head. "Can someone please kiss me?"

The three of them attended the next grand prix together. They walked through the paddock, hand in hand in hand. Everybody seemed to be silent as they came past. Cameras flashed, but they didn't care.

Walking past the Red Bull hospitality unit, Y/N and Charles kissed Max goodbye and kept going, on to the Ferrari hospitality.

The gossip surrounding the three of them went on for weeks until Y/N, Max and Charles posted their announcements.

maxverstappen1

liked by username, charles_leclerc, y/nl/n95 and 199,453 others

maxverstappen1 She's a princess

view all 19,455 comments

danielricciardo finally! Sick of pretending I don't know y/nl/n95 but you didn't know? danielricciardo didn't I?

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen 1, y/nl/n95 and 188,329 others

charles_leclerc my kind of race weekend

view all 20,945 other comments

pierregasley congratulations to you three! y/nl/n95 thanks pierrrrre gasllllley! (i officially prefer you to daniel) danielricciardo hey!

y/nl/n95

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 193,457 others

y/nl/n95 losers

view all 19,743 other comments

maxverstappen1 that's not very nice charles_leclerc but she won't share the moments where she games with us y/nl/n95 i don't game because I'm not (guess what) a loser like you two

By the end of this story you would have realised that the Bad Luck Boy wasn't so unlucky after all. He had two people who loved him more than anything and, finally, he could show the world he loved them.

[kindestofkings]

what came first, the chicken or the dickhead? [3/3]

[smau]

f1driver!reader x lando norris

authors note: book a dentist app guys this shit is sweet !

yourusername 

liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername 😭 🥺 guys I, I, I just won at my home race with my best friend alongside me. those two kids dreamed of days like these. lan you next 💓

to the tifosi for your unyielding support, to scuderiaferrari for helping me achieve things like this, and to charlie the best teammate a girl could ask for <3

view all 890 comments

landonorris so proud of you luv but PLEASE let me win soon, we dont need another max situation

yourusername lando tries to be sentimental challenge: FAILED f1fan hahahaha mate please grow up and make a move !

danielricciardo incredible stuff mate! landonorris you were so cute, what happened?

landonorris ha ha ha 😑

​​taylorswift you are killing it girl !! I see you're stateside later this year maybe you could join us at the era's tour?

yourusername 😀😀😀 I need someone to confirm this is real, landooooooooo landonorris its real so please stop hyperventilating in you drivers room alex_albon do you forget you have millions of followers and a mega superstar yourself?? yourusername and what she's TAYLOR SWIFT. she writes works of art like folklore and i drive in circles. alex_albon AT A VERY INSANE SPEED learn your worth please ynfan1 you did so well with him lilymhe

maxfewtrell you know what they say couples who win together stay together !

[this comment has been deleted]

ynfan2 max you are not quick enough for me I saw that 👀👀

taylorswiftupdates

liked by ynlando4ever and others

taylorswiftupdates after a long time of online interactions the f1 ferrari driver yourusername was at tonights show!! it appears the driver was joined with fellow drivers lando norris,charles leclerc and daniel ricciardo.

view all 20 comments

ynfan1 can you imagine your favourite singer of all time making that face at you 🥺

ynfan2 and she got one of tonights secret song dedicated to her aswell!!

ynfan3 no way really!! what was it ynfan2 it was randomly Crazier, the song taylor sang in the hannah montana film 😂

landonorris

 liked by yourusername and others 

landonorris hope you enjoyed your birthday cause you're never receiving another birthday present again. why WHY is your favourite taylor swift song so obscure??

view all 300 comments

yourusername you are the best of the best of the best of the BEST

​​taylorswift you guys are the most adorable 🥺

charles_leclerc cause shes a country girl at heart come you know this 😂

yourusername ahem country girls shake it for me 🤠

ynlando4ever GUYS HE GOT TAYLOR TO SING HER FAVOURITE SONG THEY ARE IN LOVE!!!!

yourusername posted on their story:

eras tour READY

I lied nothing could've prepared me for this ....

replies

taylorswift so glad you could come and enjoy 💓💓 that boy of yours is such a cutie.. yourusername he's a keeper for sure! hate keeping it all so secretive but like someone amazing once sang romance is not dead if you keep it just yours 😂 ❤️

yourusername

 liked by landonorris and others

yourusername I dont do tiktok but I love the its all too much for little lando norris cause he falls asleep during my taylor swift rants 😤

view all 700 comments

landonorris EHHHHH DONT THINK YOU MEANT THAT LAST ONE RIGHT BABE?

ynfan1 BABE?? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMENTS yourusername oh fuck lan landonorris HA and you said it be me who would out us ynfan2 US? theres an us??

yncharlesshipper what happened to charlie??

ynlando4ever VICTORY

danielricciardo hahahahahah wait why does norizz look kinda ??

landonorris you can say it 😏😏

yourusername OKAY Y'ALL CAUGHT ME WE'RE NOT JUST FRIENDS! SHOOT ME LOOK AT HIM!!!

landonorris LOOK AT YOUUUUU ynfan1 k im obsessed with them even more now

landonorris

liked by yourusername and others

landonorris since she messed up I can FINALLY show off how I got the girl 2 years ago 😎

happy to announce i'm accepting apologises for all those norizz comments cause LOOK at who's my girl

view all 500 comments

yourusername thats right baby your girl !!

maxfewtrell FINALLY

danielricciardo agreed, and you're never hearing anything from me norizz alex_albon still in shock carlossainz55 can relax now, yn is scary

charles_leclerc we got there eventually! looking forward to not being shipped with you now yourusername 😂😂

yourusername I don't know what you're talking about I'm a catch!

yourusername

 liked by mclaren and others

yourusername car failures are a teams worse nightmare and unfortunately my hard truth for today's race in Singapore 💔 being ruled out during the formation lap is something I hope to never experience again, so sorry for disappointing everyone and the team!

ON ANOTHER NOTE its time for a hardlaunch cause LOOK WHO JUST GOT HIS FIRST WIN! congrats bro 😎 👍❤️‍🔥 💖

view all 290 comments 

scuderiaferrari could never disappointment, we win as a team and lose as a team!

yourusername you guys xx ynfan1 the teams support never fails to make me emosh, all you that deserve!!

f1fan still a slay in my eyes!

landonorris the use of bro here is conflicting to all the pride driven kisses i've been getting 🤔🤔

f1fanupdates

liked by f1fan1 and others

f1fanupdates gasly is once again providing all the drama for the viewers! after another dnf the alphatauri driver made a jab at mclaren's first driver, lando norris...

view all 90 comments

f1fan1 why have one feud with a driver when you can have 2!! right pierre?

ynfan2 man is just realising he can't blame yn anymore so he's picking on lando

ynfan3 do you think its all related? like continuous beef that all links back to her?

landonorris

liked by yourusername and others

landonorris the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake

japan its been real!

view all 473 comments

pierregasly imagine being this cocky all while being overshadowed by your rookie teammate

landonorris imagine ruining your own career because a girl told you she didn't want to go out with you pierregasly if shes going out with the likes of you, think I dodged a bullet landonorris do you or do you not have a girlfriend rn? yourusername enough of this. pierre you are a broken record stfu and focus on your driving

ynfan1 OH MY GOD its all clicking, all this mess cause of a bruised ego...

ynfan2 men being men ugh

yourusername tay tay 🥺🥺 in your caption 🥺 love you

landonorris and the edit! i want all the brownie points baby 😏

danielricciardo MY EX-MAN BROUGHT HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND SHE'S LIKE

yourusername "OH MY GOD," BUT I'M JUST GONNA SHAKE IT charles_leclerc AND TO THE FELLA OVER THERE WITH THE HELLA GOOD HAIR maxverstappen1 WON'T YOU COME ON OVER, BABY? WE CAN SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE landonorris wow wdc winner with the taylor swift lyrics in my comments??

ynfan1 OH MY GOD its all clicking, all this mess cause of a bruised ego...

yourusername posted on their story:

my man my man my man 💓

landonorris where gasly wishes he could be 👀 landonorris love love love you

AHH I hope this was worth the wait guys!! the beef is so squashed in but I was consumed be the full by then lol

-finished-

[3/3]

taglist:

@vellicoranorca @toasttt11 @dzastinocha @dzastinocha @landosgirlxoxo @2bormaybenot @jpg3 @celestialams @dreamsarebig @dreamercrowd @dracosswhore @kissesandmartinis @inejismywife

weirdly couldnt tag everyone sorry !!

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Distractions- Chapter 13

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

From the moment Tom left for Hawaii, you were battling yourself. You missed him terribly, and you wanted to take every chance you could to text or call him, but you didn’t want to bother him or appear clingy. He was working for Steven Spielberg in a tropical paradise alongside a long-legged, black-haired beauty. He would be much too distracted to think about you.

…

Tom knew he was going to miss you. After all, the two of you had become incredibly close over a relatively short amount of time. But he never could have predicted just how much he would miss you. Even halfway around the world, in one of the most beautiful places on earth, he couldn’t get you out of his head. It was incredibly frustrating. Especially when there were only small windows in the day when you both could talk, given the eleven hour time difference and your grueling schedules. Nevertheless, he took whatever he could get, whether it was a text here and there, or the occasional video call. 

“Hello, darling,” he greeted you cheerfully through panting breaths. He had just finished his morning run when his phone alerted him of a video call from you.

“Wow,” you said, looking taken aback. “It appears that in the battle between your hair and Hawaii, Hawaii has won!”

He chuckled. Ever since he stepped foot in the humid Hawaii air, his naturally curly hair had taken on a mind of its own, practically doubling in volume. He knew you would immediately notice and take the mickey out of him. “Yeah, well, humidity has never really been my friend.”

“I actually think your curls are rather adorable! Especially now they’re absolutely unruly. That being said, I’m glad I’m not the one doing your hair for this film. Whoever it is has their work cut out for them.”

“Oh I often hear her cursing under her breath when she has to keep putting the same curl back in place over and over again. Reminds me of you actually.”

“She reminds you of me?”

“No, just the cursing. I have yet to meet anyone quite like you. So how was your day?”

“Exhausting,” you huffed as you flopped backwards onto your sofa. “I’m not sure if I’ve just forgotten what it’s like to work on a project this big, or if this one in particular is just that challenging.”

Tom furrowed his brow in concern. “What’s going on?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “I just feel like I have to do everything myself if I want it done right. These children in my department are more concerned about their fucking instagram accounts than their jobs.”

“Can you have them replaced?”

“And train in a whole new batch all over again? Not worth it. I just have to power through.”

“Y/n, that’s not healthy.”

“Neither is improper sun cream application, and yet here you are with your chest as red as the glass of merlot I’m about to have, so you can save the lecture, Tommy boy,” you teased.

“I hardly think you can compare copious amounts of stress on a daily basis to a little sunburn.”

“Well, they can both lead to cancer.”

He laughed. “Oh how I miss your incomparable congeniality.”

 “I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing your face tiredly. “It’s just been a long day.”

“No need to be sorry. I just wish I could help. Get some rest, okay? I’ve gotta get ready for work.”

“Have a good day,” you told him, with as much of a smile as you could muster.

“Goodnight, darling.” And with a hint of regret, he hung up.

…

Seeing Tom all sweaty and out of breath, with his hair wilder than you’d ever seen it turned you on more than it probably should have. But it had been over two weeks since you’d seen him, meaning it had been over two weeks since you’d gotten laid, and the stress from work had you wound tighter than a ten day clock. 

Fuck this time difference. If he hadn’t had to go to work you would have told him to go somewhere private so he could watch you touch yourself, and inevitably start touching himself as well. 

Your eyes fell closed as you reached into your pants and ran your middle finger through your already slick folds. As you began to rub circles into your clit, you imagined Tom watching you on the video call with hungry eyes. 

That’s it, baby. Stroke that beautiful pussy for me, he’d say. 

You pictured him pulling his hard cock out of his shorts and slowly pumping it up and down as he continued watching you pleasure yourself. You’d put on a show for him, keeping your eyes on him as you made the most erotic noises you knew he loved. 

What I wouldn’t give to be inside you right now, he’d groan while his hand picked up speed. To be the one ushering those angelic sounds from those delicious lips of yours.

You rubbed your clit faster and harder while you thought of him using his thumb to spread his precum around the head of his dick, letting out a filthy groan as he did so. Then he’d pump his shaft even faster, breathing out, Be a good girl and cum for me, sweetheart. I wanna watch you cum.

Your orgasm hit you as you pictured Tom moaning your name while he came, the last of his cum spilling over his knuckles. 

You finished with a heavy sigh. Some of your tension had been relieved, but you weren’t nearly as satisfied as when you were with Tom. Even if you had used your favorite toy, it was nothing in comparison to how he made you feel. It was extremely irritating. Six more weeks, you reminded yourself. It didn’t help. It had only been 2 weeks and you were already going mad without him. With a huff, you got up off the sofa and resided to have a cup of microwavable noodles and a glass of wine before heading to bed early.

…

The next morning you wanted nothing more than to call in sick, just to get a break from work. Unfortunately, you weren’t one to call in unless you were actually physically unable to get to work. So you rolled over and checked your phone before you got up, and saw you had a text from Tom.

To the bewilderment of your team, you were in an uncommonly good mood for the rest of the day.

…

The next month was even more stressful for you than before. You had to train a temporary Head of Hair and Makeup to cover for you while you were gone, on top of compensating for the rest of your team’s lack of experience. You were also stressing about what to pack for your trip, worrying about all of your outfits as if you were going on a week-long first date. And for what? Tom had seen you in all states of dress and undress more or less, and being your best friend, you knew he wouldn’t judge you. But you hadn’t seen each other in person in six weeks, and in that time he’d seen a lot of Evelyn Dawson, one of the most beautiful female actors in the biz right now as well as his co-star. You had no idea if they’d slept together at this point and you didn’t want to know. Whether they had or hadn’t, either way you couldn’t help but feel like you couldn’t compete with such a gorgeous and talented woman. Most of all though, you just hated that you cared in the first place.

Despite all of your hesitations and hang ups, you managed to make it through the month feeling just as confident about the contents for your luggage as you did about your substitute: still apprehensive, but sufficient enough to get on the plane. 

Tom had gotten you first class tickets– because of course he did– and while you originally protested it, once you actually boarded the plane you were thankful you didn’t win that particular argument. It was an eleven and a half hour flight from Heathrow to LAX, and a six hour flight from LAX to Honolulu, so you were quite relieved when you saw how comfortable and spacious the first class seats were. It was like a private little suite. The seat reclined all the way back into a bed, complete with a pillow, duvet, and even your own loungewear; your tv came with endless films and series as well as noise canceling headphones; and there was even a complimentary bag of luxury skincare products. It was going to be difficult going back to flying economy after this. 

Once the plane was in the air and the captain turned off the seatbelt light, a flight attendant came by and offered you a mimosa.

“That would be lovely, actually. How much is it?” you asked, reaching for your wallet.

“All drinks and meals are complimentary, Miss,” she told you with a smile as she handed you the crystal champagne flute. 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you took the glass from her. “Thank you so much.”

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“I’m okay for now, thank you.” As she walked away you leaned back in your seat and took a sip of your drink. This was truly the stuff of movies, and you certainly weren’t complaining.

…

By the time you landed in LA, the local time was 1:30pm, meaning it was 9:30pm in London, and 10:30am in Hawaii. The jet lag was going to be horrendous. Luckily you had managed to get a little bit of sleep on your first flight, because you were going to attempt to stay awake for the second so you would sleep through the night when you got to Hawaii and hopefully better adjust to the time difference. 

When you got to the first class lounge, you texted Tom to let him know you arrived in LA safely, knowing he would worry if you didn't.

During your second flight you nodded off a couple of times, but you managed to stay awake for most of it, spending the last hour doing your makeup and changing into a little sundress. You were tired as shit, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to look good for your reunion with Tom. 

As soon as you landed, you texted him, and by the time you picked up your luggage, you received a reply on your way to the exit.

As if on cue, you looked up and saw a man in a suit, holding up a sign that simply said ‘Sweets.’ You chuckled to yourself and shook your head as you approached him. 

“You’re either selling candy, or you’re here for me,” you joked.

The man chuckled. “Based on the picture I was given, I believe I’m here for you, Miss. Though I have had several kids ask me if I had any lollipops.” He winked at you. 

You laughed. “I can’t imagine why.”

The man introduced himself as Koa and explained that he was hired as Tom’s driver while he was in Hawaii and that he prides himself on his discretion. Again he winked at you before leading you to the car.

It was dark when you arrived on Oahu so there wasn’t much you could see on the car ride to Tom’s, but Koa filled the time telling you about all the things you ought to do while you were there. You tried your best to pay attention, but you were too excited, and surprisingly a bit nervous, to see Tom. Finally, Koa turned off the main road and up a long path to a secluded house on a hill. After he retrieved your luggage from the boot of the car, he bid you “Aloha,” and left. 

Immediately, you spun around sped giddily up the walkway to the front door. You barely knocked once before the door swung open.

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly, @the-princess-of-loki, @princess-ofthe-pages, @darcylikesloki, @kikster606, @foxherder, @simone818283, @newtomofgods, @christinebloodwrittings

[1d1195]

Traditional Extra VI

Read Traditional here

Here's a little angsty bit from our lovely (jealous) MC this time around based on this ask

~4.5 k words

“I think you should talk to him.”

“No way,” she snorted. “Do you know how embarrassing that would be? And pathetic.”

Louis laughed. “The man has literally fired his best friend over jealousy of you. This is nothing,” he promised with a shake of his head.

“You don’t need to go with me, baby.”

“M’not arguing ‘bout this,” Harry muttered holding the door open for her to go through first. As she passed him, he glared at the cast on her delicate arm. For the last six weeks he looked at it loathingly. It hurt him to know she was in pain those early weeks, shaken, and physically broken.

Fortunately, it was the last day of glaring at it.

Things were better at Styles Incorporated. Her brilliant idea of course was beyond helpful, lifesaving in more ways than one. Harry was certain without it he would have had to make some deep cuts and would have ruined an innumerable number of his employees’ lives. They didn’t even know she was responsible for the idea.

Thanking her would never ever be enough.

Niall wasn’t fired anymore. She brought Harry tea every day at quarter past one. His office was spruced up with new furniture and electronics once more. Niall caught M&Ms in his mouth that she tossed from her desk and passed notes to her during meetings. Everything was right again.

Except her fragile arm. After the first week, she claimed it didn’t bother her (it didn’t, truly; but Harry was miserable about it). It was a little inconvenient. Showering was a challenge, but Harry rarely let her do that on her own without a broken bone, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Having sex with a cast on was also her least favorite. There was nothing un-sexier than a honking plaster on her forearm. Harry swore it didn’t even register in his brain.

I hope this doesn’t bother you... But m’never looking at your forearm when we’re in bed whether y’have a cast or not.

So, there was that.

Harry was still Louis’ least favorite person. It made him extremely anxious; in some ways, he was more worried about Louis’ feelings for him than her arm being broken or even the state of his company. There was no her if Louis didn’t like him. She reassured him that he was being extra, and she would speak to him, but he was certain Louis would melt him with his eyes if he could.

“It wasn’t his fault, Louis!” She whined laying across the sofa dramatically. “You’re being the worst right now!”

Louis shrugged. “I don’t like that you got broken.”

“It’s not like Harry was the one that crashed into me or snapped my arm,” she reminded him.

“I don’t care; you shouldn’t have left.”

She groaned. “So blame me!”

“Never,” he shook his head decidedly. Even getting Eleanor to talk him off the ledge was no help. Louis was almost unbearably stubborn. Eleanor swore she would keep working on him.

Once the cast was off, she was hoping it would go back to normal.

That day was today. She waltzed up to the counter to check in and then sat beside Harry on the hard plastic chairs. He was on the phone while she checked in, speaking in hushed whispers so as not to bother the others in the waiting room. It was definitely a business call—it was the middle of the day and she almost got away with leaving without him knowing and fussing but Niall told him.

Niall walked toward their office when he dropped Harry off at the elevator beside her.

“Tattle tale,” she glared at his retreating figure. He turned his head over his shoulder and winked at her with a telling smile that he didn’t care at all.

Harry frowned. “Kitten,” he sounded so hurt waiting alongside her. “Why didn’t y’tell me?” He pouted.

She sighed. “Because you’ve been so fussy. They’re just going to take it off. Plus, it’ll smell and—”

The elevator pinged with its arrival cutting her off from listing anything else. The nice thing about riding the elevator with the CEO was rarely did anyone want to be caught in the elevator with Harry. It meant they often got to make out privately in the middle of the workday. Harry stood at the back, leaning against the handrail. He looked at the ceiling as they descended the floors with the world’s weariest sigh. She stood beside him and tilted her head up as well. “I’m tired of you being upset about it.”

“You’re the most important thing in the world t’me, kitten,” he reminded her. “M’not taking this lightly.”

She smiled sadly at him. “I know. I know, baby. But you’re... it’s not your fault. And I don’t need you to be here for this. I know you’re busy. I saw your schedule. That’s why I didn’t tell you about it. If you had the time I would—”

“I’m never too busy for you,” his look was nearly ferocious. Intense and serious. Way too much for getting her cast sawed off on Thursday. He grabbed her hand and twined their fingers together. “Y’have t’know that,” he whispered. “I’d...I’d give up everything for you.”

“I don’t want that,” she shook her head with a little eye roll, but the gravity of his words ached her heart. She could feel each syllable shaking her body and soul.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She smiled. “Say it again,” she teased.

He chuckled pressing his forehead to hers and pecked her lips quickly. “I love you,” he repeated.

“Again.”

“I love you,” he promised and cupped her face between his hands and kissed her until the elevator brought them to the main floor.

“You can stay out here while it gets cut off,” she offered when he ended the call and scrolled through a plethora of texts and emails.

“Absolutely not,” he murmured without looking up from his phone.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her good arm around her stomach and let the cast arm lay limply in her lap. He was way too overdressed. It wasn’t his fault. He was just dressed for work. A button down tucked into a pair of fitted slacks. He looked like a model for Armani. She stared at him and looked at her outfit—having known she was leaving early for the cast cutting, she wore a pair of leggings and a jersey dress over it. She was comfortable—not overdressed but still presentable for work. She looked like a mess in comparison to Harry.

“S’matter?” he asked glancing from his phone. “Are you in pain?”

“You look really nice,” she murmured.

He smirked and shook his head. “Yeah? S’that make y’sad?”

“I look like a goblin right now.”

He chuckled, tucking his phone back in his pocket. He shook his head. “You look beautiful. You always do.”

“Hey Harry, what are you doing here?”

They turned to the sound of the woman standing at the door leading to the patient rooms. The woman was stunning. Even in scrubs, with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her cheekbones were sharp and accented by the prettiest contoured makeup she had ever seen. Her eyelashes were full and lovely. She was almost certain they were natural.

Her jaw dropped a bit just looking at her, seeing that she very obviously knew Harry.

“Oh, hi, Soph,” Harry stood and cleared his throat. “Um... my girlfriend,” he gestured holding his hand out for her to take and she rose to her feet. “Her cast is coming off today.”

“Oh, you can come this way. Sorry! That was a bit unprofessional. Just surprised to see Harry,” Soph smiled sweetly and gestured for the pair of them to walk through the door. She glanced at Harry as she followed behind the pretty woman in scrubs. Harry looked a little paler. If she wasn’t so obsessed with him, she might not have noticed the change in his expression. But she had seen the worry in his eyes hidden behind the careful front he managed to keep composed when he talked with other businessmen and businesswomen. Usually when they said something that irked him because he disagreed with their philosophy or work ethic—Harry was good at what he did and had been for a while. It was hard to listen to all but bad ideas.

But she hadn’t seen it in relation to a woman she had never heard of. Was Soph short for Sophia or Sophie? Or something else? How did he know her? Why did he call her by a nickname?

“How’s your arm feel?” She asked gesturing for her to sit on the patient table while she walked to the counter to type on the chart on the tablet she carried.

“It’s fine. I think it could have come off two weeks ago,” she said still feeling weary about how Harry knew her. Harry rolled his eyes.

“She’s been trying t’rush the healing process,” Harry said.

Soph smirked. “I don’t blame you,” she said looking back at her. “It’s no fun with a cast. I was in a splint for my ankle after an ice-skating thing, remember how irritated I was?” Her question was directed to Harry. She felt the pit of her stomach churn and warm with anxiety.

Harry smirked at the memory almost instinctively. “I remember,” he mumbled quietly. It felt like a knife had been twisted in her heart. She hoped her face wasn’t betraying her internal feelings.

Soph pulled the saw off the table that would cut the plaster off her arm. She had trouble focusing on what Soph was saying because she was almost unbearably pretty. Soph went through the standard cast-cutting procedures as if she said it a hundred times a day and showed her how the saw wouldn’t cut her, pressed it to her own hand as proof and reminded her to speak up if for whatever reason she felt pain and wanted to take a breather.

“You two know each other?” She couldn’t help but ask while she sliced through the plaster. Harry was staring at her arm and nothing else.

“Like four years ago,” she smiled softly. “I was in college; my roommate was an intern at Styles Incorporated. She hated it there,” she laughed quietly. “But she brought me to the holiday party, and I asked for a drink at the bar and this guy bumped into me; spilled my drink all over me. I was glad I was wearing a dark colored dress.”

“Niall shoved me,” he grumbled looking away briefly to hide the irritation he felt over the little faux pas.

“It wasn’t a big deal. Obviously, I was used to frat house parties so having a nice Chardonnay spill on me was a lot better than party punch,” she rolled her eyes. “He was beside himself though,” she glanced at Harry with this knowing smile that made it seem like a secret. Harry’s lips twisted slightly in a half smirk. Her insides twisted again, and she had to remind herself internally to keep calm. They had a private thing. Something she didn’t know about.

Harry was clearly with this very pretty girl. Someone he obviously cared about. Sure, it was ages ago, but it was everything she feared. That stupid woman from one of the worst days of her life was right. Harry didn’t date plain girls. Not if Soph was any indication. “Have you been dating long?” Soph asked.

“Just...” she shook her head trying to do the math and feeling pathetic that it didn’t add up to much. “Just about a year,” she murmured.

“Officially,” Harry added quickly. “We dated for about six months prior,” he reminded her and told Soph like it was necessary she knew.

“That’s sweet,” she cooed kindly. Her smile was genuine. Soph was genuine. There wasn’t an ounce of jealousy or cattiness in her voice seeing Harry. She wasn’t sure she would feel the same way if the roles were reversed which made her inferiority ache in her stomach and chest more. “Well,” Soph had excitement in her voice. “Here it is,” she smiled and pulled the plaster and cushioning off her arm in two pieces. “It might be a little stiff. Regular over the counter medicine will help alleviate any final pain from the muscle stretching a bit more freely. But you’re good to go,” she patted her arm.

She shook her head trying to remind herself that she was supposed to be polite. But the feeling of inadequacy washed over her. “Thank you,” she said kindly. “I love your nails,” because she did. They were pink for Valentine’s Day maybe and the little hearts on the ring finger were adorable. It also made her notice that she didn’t have a ring.

“Oh thanks! I am actually really disappointed in my nail place—I need these off, but I don’t want to go back to where I went—they’re so outgrown,” she frowned. “I’ve been trying for ages to find a good one.”

“Oh,” she pulled out her phone. “I go to this place—not very often, admittedly. But they’re good,” she offered and held her screen out to show her.

“Thank you so much, that’s awesome! Your nails look so healthy and lovely, I noticed while I was cutting  the cast off. You don’t even have a color on them and I’m so jealous of them,” at least the feeling was mutual. “Would you mind texting me the name?” She asked with a kind smile. “Harry probably still has my number,” she turned to Harry for confirmation.

This time Harry’s posture was as stiff as her arm. He cleared his throat. “Mm.”

“Perfect,” Soph smiled as if she hadn’t a clue how weird this all was. As if she wasn’t aware of the anxiety and jealousy coursing through her. Maybe she was a good actress. “It was nice meeting you!” Soph chirped sweetly. “Nice to see you, Harry,” she pressed her hand on his arm as she passed out the door and left the pair of them to leave behind her.

*

Harry chatted on the phone while he drove back to Styles Incorporated. Normally, she listened in on the phone calls trying to help as best she could when needed. Muting his call when she had something important to add or a tidbit of information, a file, or something to help with the call.

But the feeling of inadequacy was the only thing she could focus on during the car ride. She scrolled through her phone and tried to ignore the images of someone so pretty with Harry. She was a good three inches taller than her. Her skin was flawless. She looked like she worked out often. The thought of her in Harry’s personal space made her feel sick.

She was nothing like her.

How could Harry want someone like her when he had dated someone like Soph?

“Y’okay, beautiful?” He asked. “Your arm hurt?” He wondered, reaching over and placing his hand on her thigh. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Just kind of tired all of a sudden. Skipped our coffee.”

He smiled softly. “I was going t’stop on the way,” he promised.

“Thank you.”

“’Course, kitten.”

*

She hoped the feelings of inadequacy would have dissipated by now but after tracking down Soph’s phone number she even sent her a pic of her new nails thanking her for the recommendation.

An M&M hit the side of her head. “You okay, darling?” Niall asked.

It was hard to keep it in. “Do you know Harry’s ex, Soph?” She asked.

“Sophie?” He blinked in surprise. Her heart felt heavy knowing her full name. “Yeah...they dated a while back...uh...for like a year, maybe? She was in college. Harry was only just getting Styles Incorporated under way. The second or third year?”

A year?

She nodded. “She cut my cast off,” she explained.

“Oh,” Niall tilted his head. “Was she...mean?”

“No, she was...really nice.”

“Yeah. I kind of figured. She always was.” As awful as it felt to watch Soph and Harry share a smile at the fond memory of ice-skating—even if it ended with her in a splint—knowing that Niall thought she was nice was somehow just as awful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked. “Is your arm bothering you?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Just a little distracted. I didn’t sleep well,” she lied.

“You should go home, I think Harry left for a lunch meeting,” Niall explained.

“He left?” She asked quietly.

Niall smirked biting his lip. “Sorry, darling. He pushed the lunch meeting to today so he could go to the hospital with you the other day.”

She hated when he did that.

“Okay,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

She gathered her belongings trying to feel less ridiculous but unable to quell the frustration she felt. “Call me if you need something,” she reminded him.

“Always, darling. Same to you,” he eyed her suspiciously.

*

Louis was glad her arm was freed of the cast. “Maybe you should get my name tattooed on it,” he suggested missing his name across the entire plaster more than he hated the reason for the cast. She snorted.

Eleanor was still at work, but Louis returned to their place early per her request. They sat on the sofa, watching a movie and snacking on popcorn and candy. “Do you want to tell me why I left work early?” He asked.

She shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

“Trouble in paradise?” He questioned.

“Drop it, Louis,” she muttered stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

He did.

For like four minutes. “Did Harry mess up?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing Louis, I’m being ridiculous.”

Another minute. “Are you finally mad about him breaking your arm?”

“Can you not be a child for like, five minutes?”

“Probably not.”

She sighed and pressed her palms against the length of her face and kept them over her eyes. “Harry’s ex cut my cast off,” she mumbled. “She was beautiful and nice,” she explained. “It was so humbling. I’m nothing like her. She was this dainty fairy and I looked like a potato farmer in comparison,” she sighed.

“Babe,” Louis frowned. His voice was gentle. Him acting like a child finally ceased. “Obviously I’m still mad at Harry—”

“Stupid,” she grumbled.

“–But that man loves you more than anyone has ever loved anybody. Except me with El of course,” he reminded her. “There’s a reason they didn’t work out.”

She bit the inside corner of her lip and tried to stop the feeling of tears in her eyes from surfacing. “She was so pretty, Louis,” she whispered. “It wasn’t even close.”

“But Harry loves you,” he repeated. “I know I’m being a little ridiculous about my frustration toward him, but honestly, there’s no one I trust with you more than him. He would probably break every bone in his body for you still.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I think you should talk to him.”

“No way,” she snorted. “Do you know how embarrassing that would be? And pathetic.”

Louis laughed. “The man has literally fired his best friend over jealousy of you. This is nothing,” he promised with a shake of his head. Her phone vibrated with a message. “Speak of the devil?” Louis asked. She ignored him reading the message from Harry.

Niall said you weren’t feeling well. Hope everything is okay... Let me know what you want for dinner. See you later, kitten xx Tell Louis I said hi (and I’m sorry.)

“Can you imagine your ex-boyfriend doing that for you?” Louis asked reading over her shoulder.

She sighed and put her phone faced down. “Just tell him?”

Louis nodded. “Communication, babe. You might even get to have really hot sex after too.”

She spared her best friend of the details that all of their sex was really hot.

*

Harry had laid out a feast for the two of them when she arrived home. “Whoa, it smells good in here,” she called from the entryway kicking her shoes off. The relief flooded him. Niall told him she left early while he was gone, and it made him almost crazy immediately. It shouldn’t have, he had her location (she had his too) and he knew she was at Louis’...but it was more than that. She had been off all weekend. Less chatty with him. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes which always happened right before she got sick. She had gotten a nasty cold twice since he knew her, and he also remembered her cycle messing with her regular, adorable self.

He hurried around the corner to look at her. She was in a black turtleneck with a pair of tweed overalls. She was so pretty it hurt his chest and he had seen her at work, and he still felt speechless. As much as he loved to get a peek at her cleavage, he thought the turtleneck was so sexy and she looked like a princess. Her hair was twisted in a clip, a few pieces falling forward to frame her face. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked. “Are you okay?”

“God, you’re beautiful,” he sighed dreamily.

She laughed and looked at her feet briefly, her face warming at his compliment. “Thank you, baby.”

He pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. “Are y’okay?” He asked. “M’worried. Y’were a little off all weekend. Like when y’get sick. I made y’some comfort food,” he explained. She nodded against his chest. He had swapped out his work clothes for a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“M’fine,” she murmured in his shirt. She inhaled his heavenly scent and tried to steel herself to be brave and have the conversation she needed to have.

“Yeah? Y’seem sad, kitten. Tell me s’matter and I’ll fix it.”

She bit the inside of her lip. Part of her knew it would break Harry’s heart for her feelings of inadequacy. He had done nothing but adore her and she knew that. It was just... well, she couldn’t help the shake to her confidence (or lack thereof) seeing the pretty, nice girl who knew Harry intimately. “Is dinner ready or can we sit outside for a minute?” She asked. With her face still pressed to his chest, her body caged in his arms, she could feel his heartbeat flutter. She thought it was weird.

“We can sit outside,” he murmured and released everything but her hand and tugged her to the cold bed outside. Harry flipped on the heated lamp and aimed it toward the bed. She pulled a blanket from the basket near the swinging furniture and climbed onto the mattress. She waited for Harry to join her and wrapped the blanket around him, especially with his short sleeves.

“I have to tell—”

“Are you breaking up with me?” He blurted.

“Oh, for the love of God,” she rolled her eyes. “No Harry, of course not. You’re stuck with me,” she gave him a squeeze now understanding the flutter of his heart against her cheek was anxiety.

His relief deflated out of him in a sigh. “Oh,” he sighed. “Then what’s wrong?” He frowned. She closed her eyes and tucked her face into his collarbone. He rubbed her back soothingly, brushed his lips on her hairline. “Kitten,” he murmured. “Y’can tell me anything. M’sorry you’re upset—”

“I’m jealous,” she whispered.

He blinked, pulled back a bit from her so he could peer awkwardly at her face. “Jealous?” He repeated.

She closed her eyes and nodded. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Jealous of what?”

“Soph,” her voice was so quiet Harry wasn’t sure he heard her right.

“Who?”

“Oh, stop it, Harry,” she grumbled.

“Kitten, I have no idea who you’re—oh. Oh,” there was a long pause. “You’ve been upset since Thursday?” He asked. “Why didn’t y’tell me?”

“Cause it’s embarrassing.”

He snorted. “Kitten, I fired m’best friend in a jealous rage,” he reminded her. “Y’have nothing on me.” She imagined when she told Louis about this, that not even the embarrassment she felt would feel as bad as Louis’ smug I told you so. “Did I do something t’make y’uncomfortable?” He asked. She could see his mind spinning thinking back to Thursday and the entire interaction.

“Harry,” she sighed and looked at his green eyes filled with concern for her. His gaze was gentle. It felt like a hug in itself just to be looked at him. “She is so pretty.”

“So?”

He was going to make her say it. “I look nothing like her,” she whispered.

“Well, ‘course not. You are much more beautiful,” he shrugged casually.

“Harry,” she whined and pressed her face into his chest.

“Are you jealous because you think she’s prettier?” He asked, tilting her warm-shamed face back up to look at her with those beautiful eyes. “Kitten,” he frowned.

“I am not jealous because I think she’s prettier,” she grumbled and looked down at her nose to avoid his gaze. “I know she’s prettier,” she mumbled.

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Kitten, s’absolutely wrong,” he promised. “You are infinitely more beautiful than her. Look at how pretty y’look right now. And every time y’hold a door open for someone? Or how you jus’ know what I need in every meeting before I do. Or for anyone. The kindness y’have for everyone you meet. You were jealous of her and y’still told her where t’get her nails done,” he reminded her. “She would never do that. She’s pretty and nice but there is no comparison t’you, my love. We dated ages ago and it didn’t work. S'no reason t'be jealous of her.”

“I know but—”

“Kitten, I don’t think you would ever make out with someone else while we were dating; even if y’were drunk and at a college party,” he explained silencing her completely. Her lips parted slightly in surprise trying to process it. “We were at different stages in life. I was too busy for a girlfriend while m’company was starting. She wanted t'have fun in college. M’glad she’s happy. But when she told me she kissed someone else, I was relieved,” he explained. “It hurt a bit, but it was jus’ easier t’let go of something I knew wasn’t really right for me.”

“She made out with someone else?” She asked in shock. “How could she do that while dating you?”

Harry laughed loudly. He nuzzled his face against her ear and kissed the side of her head. “S’exactly why I know y’have nothing t’be jealous of, kitten,” he whispered. “M’so in love with you. I think if y'made out with someone else, I would probably kill him,” he admitted. “I didn’t feel that way with her,” he was quiet for a few moments. “Does that make y’feel better?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“M’sorry if I didn’t make y’feel beautiful or perfect, kitten. Y’very much are. Think I’d lose m’mind without you.”

She frowned slightly. “You always make me feel beautiful.”

“S’because you are,” he murmured and kissed her softly on the lips until he pulled away and kissed her forehead. “Y’ready for dinner?” He asked.

She nodded, but stopped him before he fully climbed off the bed. She gabbed his face and kissed him again, a smile on his lips as he kissed her back. “I love you,” she sighed softly when she broke away. His gaze was soft looking at her eyes again.

“Say it again,” he whispered, making her giggle.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 7. Marked Like You

One tragic day changes Dahlia's life forever. Despised by her father and brother, she's spent her entire life trying to be the child and sister she use to be. But nothing she ever does is good enough. She joins the Rider's Quadrant to prove them wrong. Garrick now in his second year has proven he is more than the mark on his skin to his fellow riders, and taken leadership of his own Squad alongside Xaden. Little does he know the girl walking across the parapet is about to send him on a rollercoaster of a year.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

The gym was always empty just after dinner. Most cadets too full of food to even bother with training. Except for tonight. Tonight as I push open the door to the gym attached to where we did assessments a few days ago, are a trio I’ve become very accustomed to seeing together.

Xaden, Bodhi and the other I had come to know as Garrick.

Garrick who never hides his distain towards me. Every time I see him in the halls or make eye contact in battle brief his eyes are quick to harden at the sight of me. I couldn’t blame him. My father had been apart of his parents death. He had every reason to hate me because of my father. And who could blame him with how much of an asshole my dad was. Despite that I couldn’t deny the act was getting kind of old.

The gym isn’t big, but its big enough I can have my own section of the gym and keep away from them. Though since day one, Bodhi has made it a habit to always be near me. Always taking the seat next to me in class and trying to talk to me. You’d think with how much I was ignoring him he’d have gotten the hint to leave me alone. But he hadn’t. He was persistent.

I feel their eyes on me as I make my way over to the opposite side of the gym where the punching bags are. Wanting to let out some frustrations after having another run in with Dain just prior to dinner. Word had apparently spread about my assessment, and he didn’t think I’d fought fairly. You’d think he’d be happy I had won. Exactly what our father had asked from us. No. Apparently I’d fought too dirty for his liking. He wasn’t even there. I hit the bag a little harder than I intend to, a loud smack echoing around the gym as the bag swings wildly on the chain. Out of the corner of my eye I catch all three heads snapping towards me.

I push them from my mind focusing on the bag in front of me. Working through a series of punches and kicks. Though I was itching to get the staff from my bag. It had been nearly a week since I’d used my favourite weapon. A weapon not generally favoured by riders despite it being quite versatile. I could have brought it out for assessments, but I didn’t wont to go all out on my first challenge. Something I knew Emetterio had noted seeing as he had trained me the most.

I end my round with a well placed kick high up on the bag. Stepping back as I attempt to catch my breath. I yelp in surprise as a hand reaches out and stops me from walking into them. I turn to see Bodhi standing behind me, hands raised up in surrender.

”Sorry, didn’t expect you to literally step back into me.” He says with an apologetic smile.

“Well wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

”You’ve got good technique. I take it you’ve been training for a while?” He asks, gesturing to the bag still swinging on the chain from my kick.

”Pretty much my entire life.” I tell him as I start to unwrap my hands. “Not being a dragon rider wasn’t really an option for me.”

For a split second I think Bodhi is surprised by my words. Almost as if he had expected me to have a choice in where I went. But I hadn’t. I never had despite what had happened. To pick anything other the Rider’s Quadrant was a disgrace to the Aetos name apparently.

”Figured you would have had some choice unlike some of us.” He says while following me over to the bench where I had dumped my pack.

I turn to look at him with a tight lipped smile, catching Xaden looking at us over Bodhi’s shoulder. Garrick on the other hand had his back to us, focusing on the workout he was doing. Not even remotely interested in us.

“I might not be marked like you, but just like you I also had no choice in ending up here.”

”Well as someone who had no choice in ending up here, and has been training all their life for here, I have a proposition for you.” He says with a massive grin on his face.

”What kind of proposition?” I ask as I place my pack onto my shoulder, ready to head back to my room now I'd let out my frustrations.

”Help me train some of the other first years. Mainly Liz and Austin. There’s only so much I can teach them. But you’re the same height as them. You know how use that to your advantage. You can teach them how to get through challenges.” His voice almost pleading to me.

I hated to admit it, but he was right. Bodhi was too big and tall to accurately teach them how to fight. He could only teach them what he knew, how he moved. Which would work to an extent. But it would only get them so far. They’d both narrowly gotten through their assessment fights. Both being paired up against boys who weren’t entirely sure if they should go all out on a fight against a girl. And if we wanted our squad to do well, then we needed to help them. And as I meet Xaden’s eye over Bodhi’s shoulder I know he’s hoping I would say yes.

I turn my gaze back to Bodhi and nod. “I’ll do it.”

”Excellent!” He says a little bit too enthusiastically. “Be here tomorrow after dinner, I’ll bring them with me.”

And just like that he’s gone, jogging back over to Xaden and Garrick.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94

[hanlimz]

synopsis: you always have room for yang jungwon. pairing: jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: best friends to lovers!!! / self-indulgent fluff! ig maybe angst if you squint, won compares himself to others, reader talks abt being in pain but it's not real (?), mayhaps this fic is a bit incoherent T_T i wrote this in one sitting that ended at 3am so quality may be a little iffy (sorry :,( , mayb i'll rewrite in the future!) wc: 1.4k a/n: cass write for someone that isn't yang jungwon challenge : FAILED ! nah but fr tho, this pic has a Grip on me n i was possessed to write. but in all srsness, i Am working on other non-won centric fics n they should be out.......soon (?)

[8:36PM] through the lens of your grandfather's old polaroid camera, the sun seems to cradle jungwon's face in her array of rich oranges and deep reds. she places her bright lips on the crown of his head and bathes him in a warm, summer light; her golden fingers reach down to smooth out a few stray strands of his hair while moving slowly to caress the sharp angles of his silhouette. however, the glow he radiates almost manages to outshine her as the peach hues of the sky only serve to accentuate his natural beauty. his cheeks are full and round after a (near) five course meal at your grandparents' cottage, his lips are a delicate pink that matches the swath of tulips outside of your old elementary school, and his eyes sparkle in a manner that mirrors the ocean behind him. and, in mere seconds, you decide that this vacation is one of the best ideas you've ever had.

two hearts healing together as one, each enveloping the other in blanket after blanket of pure, unadulterated adoration. with a gleeful flicker in his gaze that you weren't able to place, jungwon had agreed to accompany you—biking around your hometown while reliving old memories and chronicling stories of youthful grandeur. the tranquility had grown steadily, like the dawn of a new day or the promise of a new beginning, and the certainty of his presence came to be all-consuming and ever-existing.

perhaps, you dare to let yourself believe, jungwon had become your sun. since the fifth grade, he has been the one constant in your life. he was the young boy who led you on a tour of your new school after packing up and leaving the place you called home, and he was the kind stranger who helped you catch up on the topics you missed out on. jungwon was the hesitant acquaintance turned best friend, and he is the one person you want to be with after oblivion plagues the earth. but, drawing too close is dangerous—his heat could scorch your skin while his love turns you to ash. for a moment, you ponder that particular track of thought and allow the train to run its course. perhaps, you correct yourself, jungwon has always been your sun.

"[y/n]!" he calls, beckoning you forth from the daydream you found yourself trapped in, "did you get the picture?" no matter the timbre, his voice is melodic, hypnotizing—it is the perfect addition to the evening's quiet sonata. he sings alongside the croaking frogs and the chirping crickets, welcoming the moon as it takes its place in the night sky.

you reply, trying to push down the sudden panic rising in your throat, "not yet, won—stay just like that!"

the camera clicks as it snaps a photo of the masterpiece before your eyes. upon hearing the sound, jungwon leaps from his position on the rocks and bounds over to watch the film develop. with a gentle tug, he pulls the picture from your grasp; jungwon shakes it and blows on it before resigning himself to the painful reality of waiting. the nerves that were crashing like angry waves against the walls of your stomach become a tsunami as he settles with his shoulder brushing against yours. his touch hurts—his presence, though ineffably beautiful, singes the hairs on your arms and ignites a column of blue flame around your heart. a tumultuous contradiction begins to swell inside of you; the peace jungwon imbues in you fights tooth and nail with the doubt your brain conjures up.

don't get too close.

don't let his fire catch.

don't let yourself be caught.

as the colors turn vibrant and jungwon's form becomes clearer, you attempt to hold everything in—every thought, every feeling, every wish, every dream. but, the walls you've kept up for so long start to break and something is forced to give. unable to will your mouth shut any longer, words spill out before you can shove them back down. "you're gorgeous—i mean, it's gorgeous! the picture, that is. i really love you—no, wait. i really love the way you look in the photo ... the sun was really pretty, the sky was perfect, everything was—"

jungwon's laughter stuns you to silence; he clutches his belly while doubling over at your jumbled mess of a confession. his eyes are closed, and you're almost positive his voice will be hoarse tomorrow with the volume at which he's expressing his amusement. the blue flame has been reduced to embers, but another influx of agony washes over you, cutting deeper than before.

"jungwon ..." you say, voice thick with impending tears, "this isn't f—"

a soft hand is pressed to your cheek. the gesture is tender and loving, conveying more than words ever could. his expression is firm, and all traces of humor have dissipated in an attempt to communicate his true feelings with you. "i love you, too," jungwon replies, rubbing his thumb over the apex of your cheekbone. "i love you, too."

"you do?" you ask, fear prickling like thousands of tiny needles under your skin.

"of course, i do." his answer makes everything seem so simple.

"no—but, i'm saying that i love you, love you. i love you in the sense that i want to spend every waking minute next to you, but i don't want to fuck anything up or make anything weird. i love you so much that my future plans always include you—no matter the way, shape, or form. the house i want to live in always has a room for you—i always have room for you." raw emotion overtakes the usual tone of your voice as the reality of this beachside argument about love and clarity and blurred lines sets in. you want him to understand. you need him to understand.

jungwon pauses for a moment. he takes a step closer to your body; the sweet aromas of blood oranges and limes permeate the air shared between the two of you while hints of vanilla and spice mingle with the citrus. never in the eight years that you've known him has jungwon ever been this forward, but as he gazes at you with two umber oceans—you can't bring yourself to care. "i get it. i swear i get [y/n]—and, i'm saying that i love you, love you, too," he giggles, diffusing the tension in the blink of an eye. "i think i always have, [y/n], but deep down, i'm still just that little fifth grade scaredy cat.

our friendship is one of the most important things in the world to me. i honestly think losing you would kill me. and, i know, i'm not the greatest with words if i'm not reading them from a script. i'm nothing special. i'm not good at things right away like heeseung, and i'm not a romantic like jay or jake. i don't have sunghoon's allure or sunoo's charm or riki's magnetism. i'm just me—good enough to be your friend, but not good enough be anything more."

the anger and hurt have been washed away by the soothing rays of jungwon's light, and you speak softly, "isn't that for me to decide?"

he reluctantly agrees, shuffling his feet as though he wants to pull away. rocks clack against one another, and the cacophony of noise foretells a future in which you let him walk away. so, your body moves on its own, and your hand shoots out to grab jungwon's wrist. surprise is evident in his stare as his eyes flick between your face and where the two of you are connected. with a newfound sense of courage, you pull him infinitely closer to you while relishing in the way his frame seems to fit perfectly against yours.

"you're good enough for me, yang jungwon," you declare. "you've always been good enough for me, and you always will be."

as high tide begins to roll in with the moon, a gentle quietude falls upon the beach. the polaroid photo has long since been forgotten, lost to the rocky shore and the sands of time. the sun has disappeared and her palette of colors has faded along with her, but you are still warm. jungwon cards his fingers through your hair while you find solace in the constant beat of his heart; fire still licks at your skin, cinders still smolder in the pit of your stomach, but there is no room for pain in his arms.

jungwon is your sun, and this time—you let yourself burn.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets Day 20: Homemade Meal

cw: implied past abuse, chronic pain

Penumbra Masterlist

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 676

=~=~=

By the time Cerus returned to the shared cottage at the edge of town, dusk had cooled the day to something pleasant. Often his work was complete long before sundown, but the village was readying for the midsummer festival, and he'd taken to staying later, assisting where he could with preparations.

How odd it was, to labor alongside others and not feel the shadow of resentment, hatred. To them, he was only another helper, a set of hands no one scolded or faulted or beat when his pains kept him slower than the rest.

Tansy was already home when he arrived, stirring a pot of something that made his mouth water with the smell of it.

“The hour’s late. What kept you?” It was more concern in their voice than anything accusing; the village had been kind to him, but they hadn't been here long. There was still the feeling that someone could decide he was no longer welcome here, and Tansy was still just as wary of it as he.

“I was helping the baker sort her lists. She has surprises at the ready for the festival.”

Tansy nodded, spooning broth into a bowl. “I did wonder who it would be today. The apothecary is still asking after you.”

Cerus carried dinner to the table one bowl after the other, cupping them in such a way it did not hurt his hands. The stew warmed his stiff fingers. “Tell her I am considering.”

“Still?”

He nodded, taking a seat and stirring at the golden broth. Soft grains and root vegetables swirled beneath its surface, along with something purplish he did not recognize.

“Is this a new recipe?”

“Maisy gave us some violet blush. It's a sort of wheat, I think.” They sat across from him. “Why are you still considering? You know healing.”

What did it matter what he knew? The people could never accept medicines from one who was a tyrant. Could they?

“It was long ago,” Cerus replied.

“You could learn again.”

“My hands won't allow for such fine work.” It was a partial truth. The healing arts he'd studied so long ago—before he was shaped into a king, before he lost everything—required precision. Even harvesting vegetables from the abbey garden was difficult on some days. Certainly he could shift his methods, help by studying and perfecting new remedies, or evaluating patients…

No. Even then, it could never be. The village would turn on him, accuse him of some wicked scheme. Why else would he seek to create new potions, to dabble in something near to alchemy? Why else would the shadow king help anyone?

“Cerus…”

He shook his head. “Their trust in me is fragile,” he said. “Who's to say they'll want me there?”

“Cerus, she asked for you. Someone already wants you there.”

“Why?” His mind insisted it was only a trap; a method to trick him into some crime or foul act, a way to remove the protection he'd been granted. But was that truth speaking, or only history?

“She's seen the interest in your eyes when you bring her herbs. And she knows you were given a king's education.”

“An education in death.”

They raised an eyebrow. “Among other things. She's been looking for a helper. Why not you?”

He could not deny a part of him wanted it. Could this not be good? He'd caused so much harm, was healing others not a form of penance?

“I am…” Afraid. “And what if I agree? Would the people accept remedies touched by me?”

Tansy sighed, taking their bowl to the washing basin. “I do not know. But they trust Phaedra, and she wants to trust you. Will you give her the chance?”

Cerus stared into his own half-eaten bowl. It did all come down to that; trust and chances. He could shy away from them, hide forever, or he could venture into the sun, take the risks, live, even if he still wasn't certain he deserved it.

Such a funny word.

“Perhaps I will,” Cerus said quietly. “Perhaps I will.”

[itjazzbicch]

In The Midnight Sky

Pairing: Nozel Silva x (Commoner) Cosmic Magic-User! Reader 

Summary: Finally accomplishing their dream of becoming a magic knights captain and celebrating with the other captains, the reader realizes one captain isn't so fond of them and wonders why...

Warnings:  N/A (First time writing Nozel so I hope I did well!)

Word Count: 1.6k

"Let's all say-" I had never felt happier in my life, watching from my seat at the table in the bar, surrounded by my fellow magic knight captains as Captain Vangeance rose his glass up, congratulating me, "Congratulations to Y/N for being an amazing magic knight, now a captain of her very own squad, the Midnight Sky." 

"Yeah, congratulations!" An already drunk Yami slurred out alongside an even more intoxicated Jack, offering, "Have some drinks!"  

"Why, thank you," I chuckled, not only taking my drink but since I did have a free night, I decided to drink a little more along with them. 

Most of the other captains were just as kind and accepting, thankfully not as drunk as Yami and Jack though. It was a great way to end such a perfect day, except it wasn't the end. Not that I knew it yet. 

Only one captain didn't agree with this decision and that was Nozel. Not having a clue as to why upset me. I can't recall a time when I was rude, improper, or unprofessional around him. Maybe because I was a commoner? I have overheard Nozel's royal attitude before. 

That was my only guess, and I was curious as to why he was even here with all of us. Only having a glass of wine, maintained his distance, not joining the toast. He was something else, but I wasn't going to let it ruin my day. 

"Congratulations once again, Captain Y/N," Everyone was leaving and they made sure to say their final goodbyes for the evening, Captain Vangence making me laugh while apologizing: 

"And I apologize for my friend's drunken behavior." 

"No need to apologize. We all need a drink sometimes, am I right?" I assured them it was no issue, earning a smile back from the Captain: 

"Suppose you're not wrong. Goodnight, Captain." 

I knew that I was never going to get tired of hearing that word. Captain. I stood there smiling as I looked back on my entire life, and how I worked so hard to get to this point. Never felt so happy and accomplished, till a serious mood crashed down on me: 

"Just know, as a captain, you have serious duties and responsibilities now. Don't think it will be so easy. It's not meant for everyone." 

Nozel. He was the last to leave, walking past me, but before he got too far, I shut the door, asking with his back facing me: 

"Is there a particular reason that you don't like me, Captain Nozel?" 

If I was going to be a captain, I didn't want to start with any issues. This was probably the only time I'd ever catch him alone, so I could ask. 

Those blue eyes darted at me from a distance with a turn of his head, through that silver braid. I must admit, it was a bit intimidating, but I kept my manner, bowing to him: 

"I swear to you, Captain Nozel! All I ever wanted to be my entire life was to become a magic knights captain! I want to protect this kingdom and all its people. I swear, I have no kind of ill intentions and if I have ever done anything to disrespect you, I give you my deepest apologies." 

The moment of silence made me even more nervous, listening as if I was just a magic knight on his squad as he commanded: 

"Stand up. That's not necessary." 

Standing up straight with my hands behind my back, I could only maintain eye contact and hope for the best, but grew more nervous while listening to his authoritative tone: 

"It takes someone strong to be a captain, more than just magical abilities. It-" 

His words alone showed me what I had to do, not liking that I had to interrupt him, putting out my question: 

"Pardon me, but do you even remember my abilities? Let alone my accomplishments." 

"Is that a challenge?" Oh, great! He turned all the way around, head held high, and I tried my best not to panic, taking a breath before I stepped up to him: 

"That silver eagle that you fly on, make one for us, and let's go out to the mountain where you can see the capital."  

"And why's that?"  

"We are fellow captains now. Is it hard to have a little faith in your comrade?" Hoping my kindness and smile would charm him, I jumped for joy behind his back as he turned and made his silver eagle using his mercury magic.  

I tried to hide my excitement as I climbed on carefully, sitting in silence as he took us over the mountain. A smile was on my face when I realized that the sky was clear and there was a full moon. That was going to make my task a whole lot easier.  

"So, you plan on showing me that you're worthy," Nozel spoke while I climbed off, following me with crossed arms, "Show me." 

"Yes sir," Taking a step toward the edge we were near, I closed my eyes and felt the wind blowing past me, slightly chilly but I didn't mind in the slightest, smiling more as I took out my grimoire: 

"Cosmic magic, star shower." 

I made sure to turn my head to see Nozel's reaction. At first, he was confused, not seeing anything happening in front of him, till I pointed behind him and informed him: 

"Try looking that way." 

He did as so, able to hear his gasp being taken by the wind, a sky full of stars waving over with a cloud that gave off every color of the rainbow, illuminated by shooting stars passing by. From end to end, as far as the eye could see, there were stars and it truly looked like magic glazing upon the kingdom.

"I can do more than just that. I could summon a meteorite if I had to, make a star explode," I said seriously to him as he turned with a slightly shocked expression, "But it was already a beautiful evening, so why not add to it?" 

"Y/N-" Just the expansion in his eyes alone showed that even he was blown away by this and just to make sure that he had no other thoughts about me, I gave him our salute, admitting and swearing: 

"When I was a child, I lost my mother and father to the conflicts of this world. I never want anyone ever to experience the pain that I have. That is why I swear, as the Captain of the Midnight Sky, I will protect my team, my comrades, and every single person in this kingdom, with all the power in my being even if it cost me my life. As long as this heart is still beating, every time darkness tries to come near us, I fill it with stars and bring in the light." 

I had to close my eyes and take a breath, maybe those few drinks made me a bit more emotional, fighting some tears, off guard and a bit confused when I felt a warm palm on my cheek, thumb wiping away a tear, Nozel's voice as soft and sweet as anything I've ever heard: 

"No need to cry. You know, it's not because I never liked you or thought that you weren't worthy of being a captain." 

"What is it then?" My eyes opened quickly and his hand on my cheek gave me an idea. His cheeks turned red while he gazed away, trying to think of how to explain, finding it in the heat of the moment: 

"This is why." 

The wind passing by stole all the oxygen in me right as Nozel's lips met mine, someone who seemed to be so cold having so much heat radiating from him, lips soft and tender with every touch, that hand on my cheek finding my shoulder, one arm wrapped around them and the other around my hip to keep an embrace. 

I've never felt such passion, Nozel being the last person I expected it from, eyes opening wide as our lips parted and he let go of me.  

"N-Nozel-"  

"Pardon my behavior," There he was, more flustered than before, "I just-" 

"It's okay," Snapping out of my shock, I understood what he meant, taking his hand softly, "I can tell you're not the best at expressing your feelings and that's okay. I understand." 

That made him smile slightly, squeezes my hand into his softness, becoming the one who was flustered as he asked shyly: 

"Congratulations on becoming Captain of your squad. Your power is like nothing I've ever seen. And maybe, well, we can go out sometime." 

"Nozel, are you asking me out on a date?" I wasn't trying to tease; I couldn't believe this was happening! 

"Yes-" His gaze reconnected and was as deep as ever, "I am." 

"Well," I smiled, wanting to ease the nervousness from the both of us, showing that I had emotion too, and since he kissed me first, I kissed this time, "I accept. Just name the time and place." 

"I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow," He smiled back, giving me one last peck before I pulled away. 

Tonight didn't go how I saw it going, but gosh I couldn't stop smiling now. Not sure if Nozel knew of this ability of mine or not, I took a few steps back towards that same edge, levitating off the ground.  

"I'm looking forward to it, Nozel," Blowing a kiss and winking, a brighter smile on my face before I left off into the stars, his eyes in awe of my smile disappearing into the star-filled, midnight sky, "Goodnight and sweet dreams."

[hrefna-the-raven]

Bona Fides

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Summary: a few drabbles about Deacon and his desperate attempt to hide his growing love for the sole survivor (reader)

Warnings: none for this one, just a friendly banter :)

Notes: I went a bit off canon for this one as I never understood why the Railroad didn't take parts of Covenant as their new base^^

Part 1

You've been aiding the Railroad non-stop, going from one mission to another in order to save as many Synths as possible. Deacon greatly admired your empathetic nature, which has led to a fast and close bond between the two of you. After getting rid of the Synth hunting inhabitants of Covenant, you helped the Railroad establish a new headquarters in doctor Patricia's underground facility nearby, while you and some settlers occupied the well-protected houses within Covenant's walls.

In the back of the old prison cell room, Deacon sat alongside Tinker Tom, offering his assistance in assembling a new gadget,  or, more precisely, he read one of his pre-war books while listening to Tom's enthusiastic rambles about the device he was currently tinkering with. Deacon's excitement soared when he heard footsteps approaching the entrance, he'd take anything to distract him from the tasks at hand hell even a deathclaw crashing through that door would beat the boredom. Moments later, you walked in, and you and Desdemona briefly discussed the mission while you handed her some of the holotapes you found. Deacon couldn't contain his joy at the sight of you and eagerly rushed over, enveloping you in a tight hug, planning on not letting you go away again. It had only been a few days but the lack of your presence left its marks on him.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up! I've missed you, Charms!", Deacon exclaimed with a broad smile, releasing you after a moment.

"Hey Deacs! How ya doin'?" you chuckled, trying to hide the slight blush that crept onto your cheeks from the closeness of the embrace.

The man laughed at the nickname, brushing his fingers through extensively styled black hair before crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby table with a satisfied grin on his face.He found it quite endearing, the way the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly as soon as your eyes locked on his, the pinkish hue on your cheeks whenever he touched you, whether hands brushing against each other by accident or in a hug like before. All this made him feel giddy, a sweet tingling within his stomach, quickly spreading through the rest of his body until he felt light as a feather.

"I'm doing great as ever; been working on this new device with Tinker Tom for some time now. We made some great progress today. It's definitely going to help us with a few missions."

"You don't even know what this thing is besides you were just reading while I did all the work!", Tom exclaimed, looking up and giving Deacon a playful glare. 

Desdemona chuckled and went back to analysing to the holotapes, hoping to find something useful that would finally allow them to take on the Institute.

"Everyone's gotta do what they're best at," the spy shrugged, turning to you, wrapping an arm around your waist to lead you away from the other members, "now it's your turn. What went down while you were out?  Heard there was quite a stir up out there."

"Oh, you know, same old, same old! Taking out raiders, petting molerats...", you shrugged nonchalantly.

"You really need to stay away from those things", Deacon  rolled his eyes with a smile, "I get that they're somewhat cute but damn."

"Well, perhaps I require the company of someone more experienced and more in tune to this time and world to accompany me, so as to prevent me from making any further mistakes," you playfully challenged him, a grin spreading across your face.

"Are you really suggesting that I accompany you on your next mission? I mean, I could... if you'd want me to. So you got yourself a deal.",  he responded, unable to hide the hint of excitement in his voice.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. Since the moment you first met, disregarding the fact that he had been spying on you from exiting the vault for the first time up to your arrival at the Church, there hadn't been a single moment when you didn't want him by your side. He had become your guiding light in this crumbling, forsaken world you didn't seem to belong in, and he grew more and more on you with every passing moment. Trying to suppress the blush creeping up your cheeks as thoughts of how much you missed the charming spy consumed your mind, you rummaged through your backpack and triumphantly pulled out a full bottle of whiskey that you had found in an abandoned house along the way.

"Look what I've stumbled upon!", you proudly announced, "would you care to join me as I open this and finally get some well-deserved rest tonight?"

Deacon's eyes sparked with excitement as he laid eyes on the bottle, swiftly snatching it from your grasp with a mischievous grin.

"Ooooh Charms! Why didn't you show me this earlier? Let's head back to Covenant, to my room, I got a set of the comfiest chairs and  and I know just the thing to mix with this to make it even more delicious, trust me on this one. One of my favourite pre-war recipies and  I absolutely need your expert opinion on my mixing skills." 

"Firstly, I never said it was yours to take. I merely invited you to share a drink with me. And secondly, you won't want my opinion on adding a simple Nuka-Cola to this fine liquor," you huffed, attempting to snatch the bottle back from his clutches.

Deacon maintained a tight grip on the bottle, his smirk widening as he reveled in the playful banter exchanged between the two of you.

"Oh, I know that. But that's not the point here. I just don't want anyone swooping in and swiping it from me, I mean us of course. And let's be clear, I wasn't just asking either," he chuckled softly, dramatically raising the bottle in the air. "I claimed your invitation and accepted it. So, according to the unwritten law of the Commonwealth, this is now mine."

You rolled your eyes in feint annoyance and playfully slapped his shoulder before starting to walk towards the exit.

"According to my very own unspoken rule, if you don't follow me, you won't have the pleasure of my company. I'm going to get some much-needed rest now, whether you join me or not."

Deacon burst into laughter at your remark, a broad grin forming on his face as he walked after you, his steps matching yours as his eyes constantly darted between your figure and the path ahead. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest every time he looked at you like that. There was something different about his laughter today, a raw honest hint of truthfulness that rarely simmered through his carefully constructed facade. Although it felt like you were blessed to witness it more frequently lately as if it only ever appeared within the closeness that connected both of you.

Little did you know that Deacon had been hiding a secret, one that weighed heavily on his mind with each passing day. One more secret among the many that shaped his true self and yet this one would be harder to keep, unable to prevent it from dripping slowly though the cracks of the person he created to shield himself from the world. It was, or more like, it wasn't simply friendship that bloomed within him, it held a deeper meaning. Dangerously, love had taken root in his heart yet again, despite his experience with Barbara, and it grew stronger with each moment spent by your side. He longed to tell you, show you somehow, but the fear of rejection and the pain of a broken heart held him back. After all, he was a fraud, a man with a false identity, a hidden past, flaunting proudly his ability to shroud himself in a mysterious mist of lies. How could he possibly reveal his true feelings without jeopardising the friendship you had? Insert something Shakespearean involving death and your inevitable doom here, he thought to himself. Love and happiness was not for the likes of him.

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story :)

[monpalace]

Twi talking about his reader with Time and time putting together that his friend settled down and had kids and such. Upon first meeting Twi’s s/o he isn’t sure because she’s so nice and welcoming not like the woman who he knew that fought her way into her position until Twi says something absurd which leads to her ranting and eventually yanking at Twi’s ear challenging him that Time is like “ah yes this is definitely a descendent of hers” has been heavy on my mind lately.

time and twi being related is so integral to my sanity its insane.

time seeing pieces of the future, his impact, the impact of those around him, and his response to it all is also just as important.

(imagining a one-on-one grandfather-grandson time-traveling trip together because what are the rest of the chain gonna be doing except for looking like🧍🏼)

"Why don't you tell me about your version of her? It's only fair since I've given you my share."

Time isn't sure how they started talking of you, but he's glad to hear you made something of yourself a few centuries down the line, even if he wasn't hearing it from your words as he would've liked.

There's an unsure look on Twilight's face before he quips back with "d'ya want the good ones, or the bad ones?" Uncertainty quickly turns into adoration. "Dream girl ain't got a shortage of either."

(If Time were younger, he'd certainly gag at the nickname. It was cute though, and after Twilight had explained his reasoning for calling you that, it added onto the level of sweetness.)

Idk why I started this off like it was a fic. Anyways.

After arriving in Ordon (or wherever else you two decided to live), Time would be a little more than conflicted because?? You literally kissed Twilight's cheek and gave him the most dreamy smile??? You are not your ancestor????? But he also doesn't want to call or think of Twilight as a liar????????

(To be entirely truthful, he doesn't think Twilight has a lying bone in his body.)

After being invited inside, Time is further confused by Twilight's telling of you. You offered him clean clothes, to bandage his scrapes and bruises, and asked him what he wanted to eat since it was nearing the time you usually started dinner.

Time doesn't even think his version of you knew how to cook.

Since the dinner table only seats two (for now. Twilight is always talking about how he's gonna build a bigger one for the future), you, Time, and Twilight are settling yourselves around the living room or whatever they were called back then.

"Shame Malon ain't here, huh Old Man?"

You elbow Twilight hard enough to almost make him drop him plate while hissing "don't be rude," and that's when Time finally starts to see the similarities between his you and Twilight's you.

"What? 'm not the only one that calls him old man! Everyone does! He said we could call 'em that to!"

"Oh, so it's your job to point out the obvious now? What if he was insecure about his age?"

"He ain't!"

The second thing that makes him reason that you really hadn't changed in over a hundred years is when you kick Twilight for pulling your feet into his lap while the plates were still present.

You said it was a hygiene thing, Twilight joked that it was because your feet were ugly.

There's a knot on Twilight's head now.

Totally unrelated but just had the brief image of Time laying in bed with Malon once they hit his timeline and he's just telling her all about his time staying with you and Twilight to try and convince her about moving the whole having kids things to now instead of later.

Also imagining him finding you in his timeline and just gossiping, asking if you've found anyone special to settle down with.

(Time looks like he gives and gets good gossip. He looks like he knows exactly what to say/do to get the good stuff because of everything from Majora's Mask.)

ANYWAYS.

Time sees a lot more of his you in Twilight's you the day after. Whether you work alongside Twilight or somewhere in the city (or not at all), he's able to see everything in your mannerisms.

(You asked if he wanted to do the equivalent of a ride-along while you were out and he's never said yes to something so quickly— except when Malon asked him out. Y'all are def talking about stupid shit Twilight's done.)

From how you haggle prices down, to how you drive away people who had less than innocent intentions (from yourself and others. He'd have a field day retelling how you verbally bullied a man for trying to steal from an older woman), it all just screamed his you.

As soon as he gets to his timeline he's showing up at your front door to catch up, trust and believe 🤞🏽

[jacqueline-p-rose]

In this year I finally ditched Spotify for good in favour of rebuilding my music library offline and, since May, I have been collecting again the music that was lost to time in the great iPod crash of 2016. 98% of the music I listen to now are mp3s on my phone (using the Poweramp app), and most of those songs are ripped from CDs bought cheaply and secondhandly from eBay. I feel that I listen to music differently from the yoothes in that I put on an entire album and listen to it through, so in light of the recent flight from Spotify in hand with my unsuppressed FOMO, I've decided to give you my top ten albums of 2024. So hear, my Not-ify Wrapped 2024!

1 - Antemasque - Antemasque

This is the real reason it's a list of top ten albums and not top ten songs, because the top 12 most played songs on my list are the 12 songs on this album. It's great, not only my favourite album of (2014) 2024, but one of my favourite of all time. I wrote a little more about why here if you're feeling read-y.

2 - London Grammar - If You Wait

A classic of a specifically difficult time in my life, brought back into another increasingly difficult time of my life. "Interlude" specifically gets to me and makes me cry, and you KNOW how I love to cry!

3 - Soundgarden - Superunknown

When I first heard Soundgarden as a pre-teen I remember thinking it was a bit too heavy for me, like... Too metal. It's taken being in my 30s to finally appreciate this bad boy. I don't know what I was thinking back then, maybe I was as soft as un-moulded jelly, but it's now one of my favourite albums of all time.

4 - Le Butcherettes - Sin Sin Sin

A prize for accepting the challenge of trying new things. I love how perfectly this slots in alongside The Dead Weather, while being far more interesting. Beautiful, beautiful, wonderful thing to come into my life.

5 - Boys Next Door - Door Door

Nick Cave was a better father to me than my real father. This album (along with Henry's Dream with the Black Seeds) I have plucked from the nostalgia of dads cigarette-ridden Pajero and claimed as my own. I hope my children have a more positive memory of it in future.

6 - Made Out Of Babies - The Ruiner

Made Out Of Babies is my answer if someone were to ask me what my favourite band is, so it's a little surprising to me to see it so low down on the list, although it's really an even match for play count with most of the other stuff on this list. The Ruiner and Trophy are a fantastic extrapolation of 90's grunge into the new millennia. Coward I don't like so much, maybe I'll appreciate it the same one day, but it is not today.

7 - Warpaint - Warpaint/Exquisite Corpse/The Fool

Really it's only Warpaint that is this high on the list, but I'm including the other two because I often play them all in a row. These are very new purchases to be on the list at all, but my partner likes it so I can get away with playing it during the day. Drone-pop my beloved.

8 - Spectacular Spectacular - Blur

This album is always left off those lists of trans musicians that get shared about tumblr, which is a shame. It's not screamy punk or noisy synth so maybe it gets overlooked amongst the GLOSS and HERS and Against Me! types, but there are other trans experiences and expressions, and this is one. Beautiful and heartfelt, a must listen when I'm sad about boys (which is often).

9 - Audioslave - Audioslave

Though often thought of by the cool kids as less than the sum of its parts, I really dig Audioslave. Just because it plays on the radio doesn't mean you can't enjoy it too, loose your grip on ego and enjoy yourself, I know I am.

10 - Portishead - Portishead/Dummy

Some guy I used to work with put on Portishead one day and was crestfallen when I said "I used to cry to this as a lovesick teenager." He clearly thought he had found something super obscure and was proud of himself for showing it off. Serves him right for playing "Sour Times" the day after I broke up with my girlfriend.

Honourary mention - Adam And The Ants - Kings Of The Wild Frontier

The reason I say 98% of my music is offline is because I listen to Adam Ant a lot on Youtube. This album seems impossible to find as a CD for some reason, even though it was reissued in 2004. It's on Spotify, but I've been struggling to find a copy of it off the streams, so while it's not in my top 10 from Poweramp, it is top 10 in my heart.

So there you have it, my top 10 albums of 2024. There are at least another five albums I would have thought would be on this list and aren't, but I guess the stats don't lie. In an era where Spotify doesn't pay artists unless they get over 1000 listens, and even then their cut is split with the giants till it's almost nothing, I think there's no better time to cut the umbilical to constant access and be more intentional about the music we listen to and the artists we support. I buy digital albums from Bandcamp when I can, but even when I'm buying old CDs at least I'm actually getting something for my $15 a month. The wait for them to arrive in the mail and the space they take up means that I have to be very deliberate about what music I enjoy and will actively choose to listen to, and that makes me enjoy them more. Sitting with the album cover reading through the booklet as it rips onto my hard drive and plays in the background is very grounding, in a way it gives me confidence in other life decisions, it's small practice in making choices and expressing intention, and being rewarded for it. I highly recommend you to try this too, and maybe next year your wrapped will be music you have had a connection with and felt something about, and not just a bunch of songs you listened to without thinking.

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 9 - The Monster and His Master

Part 8 | Part 10

Notes: Definitely NSFW

The next few months pass by in a blur, albeit a productive one. Khansar’s funds are carefully allocated across various administrations with special emphasis placed on programs pertaining to education, public health, and infrastructure. The government’s focus on foreign policy allows them to settle contracts with various energy management companies across the world to provide solutions for the electrical and water shortages occurring in their external agricultural territories. The continuous expansion of global strategies provides opportunities for reallocation of employment through various industries including manufacturing and trade, though Khansar stays vigilant in maintaining a diplomatic image by hiding its more profitable ventures away from prying eyes. 

Change doesn’t come as fast as Varadha initially hopes, the truth being that mistakes occur more frequently than not and it is enough to give him pounding headaches that won’t subside. Moments of high stress are all it takes for him to retreat into himself, gaze faraway as he analyzes every possible solution over and over, a heaviness settling into the line of his shoulders.

During breakfast one morning, when Varadha is toying more with his food than eating it, Baba finally cracks. 

“The responsibility of this kingdom is not yours alone, Beta. There are entire organizations and administrations working alongside you to find solutions to the issues we are facing. Let them do their jobs, while you do yours. Not every burden is yours to bear.” Then he lets out a small smile. “Anyway, it’s important for you to learn the importance of a good stroll over a hasty run. What you’re doing now is establishing a strong foundation for Khansar’s growth and longevity. Take that for granted and you’ll give way for its fall.”

Varadha doesn’t finish his breakfast that morning and he doesn’t miraculously stop worrying either. Still, he begins to notice just how much people care. It isn’t just his face worn from sleepless nights and early mornings. It isn’t just his eyes that contain a spark of determination in the face of challenges. 

The reassurance is enough to let him sleep a bit more peacefully at night. It also helps that he feels less alone than he has in years. Particularly in moments of leisure that are spent in the presence of his loved ones. 

Morning garden strolls with Baba as he talks about his life and his Noor. 

When she’d leave for her business meetings, I wouldn’t know how to handle myself. So anxious and restless till she came home. Time used to stand still without her, but in her presence, every day would pass by faster than a strike of lightning, and just as beautiful too. I’ve had years with her… it still doesn’t feel like it was enough time. She’d be proud of you, if she was here to see you now.

Afternoon chaturanga sessions with Baachi as he curses out Varadha for winning every round. 

I still look over my shoulders sometimes, waiting for someone to fuck with us. We’ve endured years of humiliation and it feels like there’s more to withstand. I’m still not used to the way people look at us with respect when we leave the palace. I’m thankful for what we have Anna, and I’m scared to lose it too— Fuck! Again? What’s the point in playing with me when you keep winning anyway? 

Evening movie nights with Deva as they curl up on the couch, shedding their responsibilities and falling into domesticity. 

I don’t know how I did it, but I’ve managed to convince Amma to come back to Khansar. I think the only reason she’s even budging is because I’ve been begging her to come back with me and telling her it’ll be different under your rule. Even then, she’s hesitant about staying anywhere in the capital. I don’t know if I can convince her to stay in the palace, not without putting her ill at ease. After everything she’s done for me, I have to draw the line on her behalf at some point. I’m thinking of getting her a place at the outskirts of town. I’m going to hate not seeing you every night, though.

That doesn’t end up becoming a problem for too long. The first night that Deva stays away at his mother’s new house, Varadha tosses and turns for hours on end, restful sleep alluding him. His cranky mood the next morning has the entire palace walking on eggshells. That is, until Deva enters the council room later on in the day for one of their meetings. They stay on different ends of the room, but when their gazes meet, the exhaustion drains visibly from their bodies and the palace is able to breathe once more. 

“Come home with me tonight?” Deva asks once they leave the room, walking shoulder to shoulder. Varadha’s step falters for a second before he goes back to matching Deva’s stride. 

“What?” Varadha carefully observes their surroundings, staying alert until he’s sure there’s no one else around them. 

“For dinner, you idiot.” Deva’s lips quirk. “Not some clandestine meeting of lovers.”

“Can’t fault me for checking, Bangaram. I never can tell what’s going on in that filthy mind of yours.” Varadha shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek to hide his smile.

“Yes, because I’m dying for a chance to ravish you in my mother’s home.” Deva rolls his eyes, but takes a step closer to him anyway, bending down so his gravelly voice can whisper. “Though… why bother with the wait when I can fuck you in that closet instead?” 

~*~

The first dinner at Amma’s ends up being more awkward than Varadha thought possible. As inviting as she is, there’s a prying gleam in her eyes as she observes the two of them, trying to gauge what could’ve happened during the past few months for her son to willingly return to this godforsaken place. To move her here as well. He finds himself trying to impress her for some reason, telling her about all the changes he and his team are trying to bring about to the city. If he was being honest with himself, for a moment it felt like the words were being forcefully ejected from his mouth, anxiety refusing to let go of the trigger. However, when there is a lapse in conversation after dinner while they put away leftovers, Varadha catches a glimpse of Amma looking at him with a relieved expression. He doesn’t know what it means, but is able to breathe easier when she sends him off with a box of leftover chepala pulusu (fish curry) and tells him to come visit again soon.

The weekly dinners end up becoming a reprieve for Varadha when he starts to realize just how much he feels like a kid again under Amma’s roof. Gone are his responsibilities of being Karta when he steps into the threshold. She acts with him as she always had, feeding him exorbitant amounts of food, reprimanding him for not sleeping enough, and even going to the extent of massaging his scalp when he confesses to her of the pounding headache he’s suffered with for days. 

His eyes close at the feeling of her fingers running through his scalp, the smell of medicinal oil oddly pleasant and soothing as she works the tension out from his muscles. Amma continues to talk to him, voice low and pleasant as she urges him to take better care of himself and something breaks inside him. A ball lodges in his throat and he can feel wetness forming behind closed lids. When they flicker open, Deva is standing in front of him, a glass of water in hand. Concern immediately clouds his features and he shifts his body forward, only to stop when Varadha discreetly shakes his head, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. 

“Stay here with us tonight,” Amma commands, unaware of the plight he’s facing. “The second you go back to that palace you’ll spend the night overworking yourself and I refuse to let you run yourself into the ground. Deva, go set up the guest room and don’t let him leave till tomorrow morning.”

Later that night, once Amma is asleep, Deva sneaks into Varadha’s room, crawling into bed and holding him tight. 

“Are you okay?” Deva sighs against his ears when Varadha doesn’t answer immediately. “Amma ki chadastham ekuvara, anthe (Amma is just stubborn, that’s all). I’m sorry if what she said hurt you at all.” 

“No, she didn’t do anything wrong.” Varadha gulps, pressing back into Deva. “Amma gurthukuochindi, ra (I remembered my mom).” 

Deva doesn’t reply, choosing to press a kiss into Varadha’s hair, wrapping his entire body around his lost king and trapping him within the confines of his limbs. Varadha sleeps more peacefully that night than he ever has during the past few months.

The next morning as Amma sends them out of the house, she stops Varadha in his place, a hand wrapped around his arm. 

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you two since you were children. Karta and Salaar aside, when it comes down to it, you’re just two kids who’ve been forced to grow up too soon. Don’t let those titles define you for the rest of your life, nana. Don’t make the same mistakes as…” The way her gaze digs into his is enough to make him understand, so he nods back, a promise in his own right. 

She lets him go.

~*~

The peace doesn’t last long, it hardly ever does in a world like theirs. 

They start hearing of various raids across India that begin to interfere with their black market trade. Before they can consider taking action, casinos, brokerages, and banks partnered with Khansar are stormed in an effort to prevent money laundering and other illegal activities. Trucks containing various goods such as weapons and drugs are stopped en route, all the material seized and confiscated by the government. A frenzy erupts in the capital as calls are made to various seeds and contacts planted in India, demanding answers for the sudden crack down. The answer, it turns out, is rather simple.

The government of India aims to fight back against crime… to fight back against Khansar. 

It’s not an answer that sits well with anyone. Definitely not Varadha as everyone in his court looks to him for answers. Tensions rise every day in Kotagada as the Doralu debate with their Karta about the best course of action to take to preserve their economy. In the end, there is nothing but disdain as the court adjourns, no real solution to be found. 

For the time being, the best course of action is to be more discreet and careful than usual. They run checks on their supply chain to prevent security breaches. Only certain businesses are given access to trade after a thorough inspection process. Different routes are established, intricate and ever changing, with smaller shipments being sent out at a time. Overall, it’s not a perfect system, but it’s enough to get them by.

~*~

Deva’s eyes stay firmly planted on the ground and he hopes that Baba will finally break the silence. He doesn’t. He holds his cap in his hands, leaning back against the chair as if his age has finally caught up to him. Bilal doesn’t seem to be of much help either as he paces back and forth, carefully avoiding Rhinda who scowls at the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

The creak of a door opening snaps them to attention. Varadha steps out, face void of any emotion as he jutts his chin. 

“You can go see him now, if you’d like.” Baba doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence before he disappears through the door. 

“I didn’t even know he could move that fast.” Rhinda tries to joke, but no one laughs. He doesn’t look too amused either as he falls back into his chair. 

Varadha makes his way to the large window, fists clenched at his sides. Within seconds, Deva is next to him.

“The name of Khansar was enough to stop them not too long ago. Now they’ve attacked us at the heart of it.” Varadha’s hand clasps ironclad around Deva’s tattoo. “I want them dead. Each and every person who dared to lay a hand on him.”

“As you command, Karta.” 

“The thought of Khansar alone should terrify them. Touch what belongs to us–”

“You pave the path to your own destruction.”

The Karta’s fist drops back down to his side and his weapon is released. 

~*~

Death for anyone who stops the seal. 

That is what Deva declares. No one in court bothers to argue. Not when it was a law that would benefit their own economy. Even if they did object, they wouldn’t challenge the monster who just committed a massacre to please his master. 

Rakshasudu.

That is what they begin to call him. Not to his face or the Karta’s. Not in scorn either, but in awe of the sheer power that he exudes. The new name becomes a declaration of acceptance. 

A violent man for a violent city. 

~*~

“A symbol. All that it brands, belongs to you.” 

The simple phrase from Deva’s lips ignites a raging fire within him. Varadha’s eyes darken in the confines of the room, gaze honing in on the devil’s mark stamped against Deva’s bare chest. 

“Come here.” Varadha commands. He watches as Deva saunters towards him, the glow from the lantern casting shadows onto his rugged physique. His fingers ghost against the seal, drinking in the intricate artwork that decorates tanned skin. The eyes of the devil leer into him, ferocious teeth barred in contempt. It was nothing more than a small circle of ink, able to fade away with the swipe of a finger. Yet, it possessed the ability to shake an entire nation to its core. 

So much power in such a small symbol. 

And the man who imbued it with that power stands before him, beautiful and pliant, his face sculpted to express unbounded devotion. 

Varadha’s hand darts out, fingers wrapping around the underside of Deva’s jaw as he tugs him closer. Deva breathes sharply, surprised by the action, but doesn’t move. He waits patiently, unblinking as Varadha leisurely devours the length of him. In a sudden flash, Varadha turns him around so that Deva’s back is pinned to his front. Deva catches a glimpse of the image in the mirror planted across from him, a pathetic whimper leaving him at the sight.

Varadha’s eyes penetrate through the reflective surface, dark, calculating, and aroused. His fingers dig into Deva’s pulse point as his other hand travels down the expanse of his torso, nails scraping against sensitive skin, eliciting a feeling so strong that Deva’s eyes flutter shut and he arches back into Varadha, desperate for a taste. The furthest he can get is the brush of his lips against the side of Varadha’s jaw before he draws back with a tut.

“Salaar,” The warmth of his breath fans against Deva’s ears, the smoky tone exhilarating him further. “My Salaar. So beautiful when you give yourself to me like this.” His hand slips further down, stopping at the bulge between Deva’s thighs. His fingers dance against the sensitive flesh, featherlight touches that have Deva working to hold back keens of frustration. That is, until Varadha palms him through the fabric of his jeans, the firm touch causing Deva to release a low moan. 

“Va–” The name catches in his throat when Varadha’s grip tightens around his neck significantly. Varadha’s lips begin to explore the curve of Deva’s nape, sharp bites that prick into his skin, only to be soothed by the gentle slip of his tongue. Varadha hums softly into him, slotting his hips against the curve of Deva’s ass and pressing into him just enough to let his arousal be felt. Slowly, the hand that is wrapped around Deva’s throat begins to descend. Within no time, Varadha works Deva out of his jeans, hands circling against the heavy length of him.

“Open your eyes and watch what I do to you.” He growls, teeth catching onto Deva’s ear. Deva’s eyes flicker open at the order and he digs his teeth into his lips at the debauched image of him in Varadha’s arms. Hair askew, pupils blown, skin marked by claiming bruises. He lowers his gaze to where Varadha’s hands are pumping him unceremoniously, his thumb circling against his slit, collecting precum and spreading it across the throbbing surface. It doesn’t take long for Varadha’s hands to become coated with the evidence of Deva’s arousal and the sight itself makes Deva tremble with need. “You look beautiful like this. Pliant in my hands, flushed beyond belief, desperate for release.” 

Deva hisses as Varadha tugs against his balls, the mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelming him enough to close his eyes for a chance of reprieve. 

“Open your eyes, Salaar. I won’t tell you again. Take your eyes off the image of what I’m doing to you and I won’t let you come for me tonight.” The warning incites panic and Deva’s lids snap open, catching the merciless grin on Varadha’s face. “Good boy.” 

The motions of his hands speed up around Deva’s cock with varying pressure and Deva is forced to watch himself break, tremors spreading across his overstimulated body. His chest heaves with panting breaths, muscles clenching in an effort to hold back his inevitable release. As he watches from tear-filled eyes, Varadha’s reflection reshapes itself in the mirror, a smug curl of his lips as it dawns on him what Deva is doing. 

“Such a good boy, holding yourself back for my sake. I didn’t even have to ask, did I? You’re just that desperate to please me.” The throaty chuckle causes Deva to flush deeper and dig his fingers into the soft material of Varadha’s clothes. 

“Please.” Deva groans, on edge. A tear rolls down the corner of his eye and satisfaction paints itself across Varadha’s features.

“Come for me, my beautiful Salaar.” A gasp leaves Deva’s lips, his cock twitching as the sticky residue splatters against the skin of his stomach. His eyes close and he leans back against Varadha, spent as his orgasm flows through his system. He can feel Varadha’s arms wrapping around his waist, lips brushing against his ears as he whispers sweet nothings while pleasure settles into his bones. 

By the time Deva is able to ground himself enough to open his eyes, he catches sight of Varadha’s gaze drilling into the seal stamped against his chest. A shudder of pleasure rocks through him when Varadha pushes him onto the bed, his hand curling around the dark mark, a wildness in the depth of his kohl rimmed eyes that has Deva hardening once more. 

“Mine.” Varadha places a searing kiss against his lips, stealing his soul from within the confines of its cage. Deva gives back just as much as he gets, wanting nothing more than to have Varadha understand that his entire life belongs to him and only him. By the time Varadha pulls away, stripping out of his shirt, Deva’s kiss-slick lips whisper back words of reassurance.

“Yours, always yours.”

[rougepancake]

The Summoning (chapter one)

Ft. Leon x F! Gym Leader! Reader

series m.list

SUMMARY: lots of lore building at the beginning here. Bear with me I beg you. I envision your team as Chandelure, Trevenant, Polteageist, Gengar, Cursola, and Runerigus. In this story, Allister is a trainer that studies underneath you, and you run your gym out of Ballonlea.

The Galar region is a beautiful place, each area much more gorgeous than the last. Its beauty almost rivals the lively islands of Alola, a popular tourist attraction for many in the world of Pokémon. Galar is home to many talented Pokémon trainers, even having one of the best Gym Challenge programs throughout the world. Many of the trainers that Galar produces go on to be Gym Leaders or something similar. However, the most unique thing about this region is its ranking system. Every year, a list is posted by the chairman, releasing the top fifty trainers of the region. But that’s not the unique thing. See, for ten whole years, the top three haven’t moved. They are rumored to be the best of the best, and are admired throughout the land.

One is the region’s champion, Leon.

Another is Hammerlocke’s dragon type gym leader Raihan.

And third is ghost type gym leader of Ballonlea, you.

No two of the three are similar, and they each make for an intimidating opponent on the battlefield. That’s why they’re so special. They’re undefeated, in their own right, and there will never be another trainer that will be able to properly replace them.

They’re celebrities, and they know it.

꧁ ༺ ─── ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ─── ༻ ꧂

The wild area was a place that you quite enjoyed visiting. The ambience brought you peace, temporarily relieving you of your stress. Plus, it was the perfect training grounds for you and your Pokémon. There was also something about being surrounded by other Pokémon in their natural habitat that made it all the more special. You loved pitching your tent and relaxing with your Pokémon before a long day of work. It wasn’t often that you took time to yourself like this, so when you did, people knew better than to try and get ahold of you.

Sadly, you hadn’t had much time to go out since Opal gifted you her gym. You had unknowingly passed her trial before her passing, despite you not specializing in fairy types. She had monitored your battle style closely, confident in her choice. She had believed in you more than anyone else, and you kept her memory with you everywhere you went. You were grateful for the opportunity to have been mentored by her. She set everything up for you, you just had to work hard to get there. Opal had her eye on you since you started your gym challenge all those years ago. Now, you were twenty something and mentoring a timid child that reminded you a lot of yourself. Funny how that works.

But it wasn’t gym leading that brought you to fame. Much like Opal, the entire region had had its eyes on you since the beginning of your journey. You were a powerful young trainer, and you had gotten dangerously close to taking the spot of champion many times. It was only after Leon became champion that you decided to further your education. Now your intelligence and power made you a weapon, a dangerous enemy to have. You worked as the head at the battle league in Wyndon for years until Opal snatched you up. The trainers you has picked to work alongside yourself had been personally trained by you, making them nearly impossible to get past. Like now, it was rare that trainers reached you, and even rarer that they surpassed you and moved on to the next level. More often than not, gym challengers dropped out after losing to you.

You sighed softly as the gentle wind blew around you. A storm would be rolling in soon, which meant that you’d have to pack it up fast and find proper shelter. It was a shame since you enjoyed being out here. Maybe you’d be able to find a cave big enough to camp in before the storm hit. Your Gengar appeared by your side, tearing you from your thoughts. It came out of the shadows, carrying so many berries that they were practically falling out of its arms. Damn thing. Your Gengar couldn’t go two seconds without stealing something from someone. Or scaring them. There’ve been many times where you’ve had to apologize for Gengar’s behavior. Out of your six Pokémon, Gengar was by far your most troublesome.

Gengar sat off to the side and began to devour the berries. Your other Pokémon looked at it curiously, but paid it no mind. Things like this happened way too often for them to care.

You leaned back and watched the clouds overhead. There was something odd about the formation of them that made you wonder. No tornado warnings had been issued for the area, nor were there any severe thunderstorm warnings. You could hear the wild Pokémon around you screech and squeal as they ran around you and your camp. What were they running from? There was no way of was the storm. Usually they weren’t bothered by the weather. Slowly, you rose to your feet, curiously inspecting your surroundings. While your own Pokémon seemed unbothered, the wild ones were definitely acting strange. Thunder rolled in the distance, causing another wave of panic to erupt from the area. Odd. Yet interesting. You’d have to mention this phenomena to Professor Magnolia before you returned to Ballonlea.

The sound of your Rotom Phone ringing caught you off guard, and you nearly threw it into the air trying to answer it. The fact that someone was calling you while you were out threw you for a loop. Even more so when you saw just who was calling you.

“Gordie?” You held the phone to your ear. “What’s wrong?”

Gordie was the only one of your peers that was ever able to get ahold of you. For whatever reason, you didn’t mind him. He and Kabu were the least annoying people out of your fellow gym leaders. Them and you, of course.

“Chairman Rose is calling in all of the gym leaders for a meeting. I dunno what it’s all about, but by the looks of things, you’re gonna want to get here as soon as possible.” He spoke with a certain urgency that made you curious. The Chairman? What could he possibly want from the gym leaders?

“Oh that’s right… the list is being posted today…” You frowned, putting away the phone and recalling each of your Pokémon. Once they were secured, you began taking down your tent. Thunder rolled once again. If you weren’t quick, the sky would fall out before you were able to call a flying taxi. You worked swiftly with that in mind, rushing to beat the storm. However, as you packed, you remembered that the Chairman didn’t usually call everyone in to read off the list. Especially since the list wasn’t exclusive to gym leaders. You sighed and hurried out of the wild area, heading off in the direction of Wyndon.

Oh how you hated Wyndon. It was far too big of a city for your taste. The hustle and bustle of the streets just wasn’t the way you wanted to live, which is why you avoided leaving Ballonlea at all costs. You couldn’t go anywhere without people recognizing you and begging for your league card. Interactions like that drove you insane.

Gordie met you outside of Rose Tower, wearing a somewhat serious expression. He held the door for you politely before joining you by your side. You felt like he was escorting you. Staff members glanced at you as you passed, making your skin crawl. They had been waiting for you. You just knew it.

Once you had gotten through the lobby, you were directed to the conference room filled with all of Galar’s gym leaders. As you looked around you noticed that not one of them was interacting with the group. How odd. Usually they were excited to see each other.

“I’m so glad you decided to join us today,” Chairman Rose clasped his hands together, smiling at the sight of you. He reached out an arm and gestured to an empty seat beside Raihan. Slowly, you walked over and sat down. Across from you was the champion, Leon. He looked a lot different than you remembered. Maybe it was the tacky cape that was throwing you off.

The Chairman cleared his throat, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. “First things first. The list has been posted. Let us read it before anything else.” He waved his hand at the board behind him, and the list appeared. Photos of each trainer appeared next to their names, making sure that people knew who was who. He began to read it off, and everything was pretty cut and dry.

Leon was first, as always. Raihan second. And you third. Kabu had worked his way up to fourth, to your surprise. Gordie was fifth. Melony was sixth, and so on and so forth.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’d like to talk to you all about a growing issue within the region.” The projector shut off and the room grew tense. You looked over at Gordie, who simply shrugged his shoulders. “Intense storms have been hitting the region hard this year, and it’s causing the wild Pokémon to act strangely. These storms have also been interfering with the region’s energy production. I fear that if we don’t come up with a way to reduce the storm damage, then we may lose our power supply.” He rested his hands on the table and looked down it. He was waiting for someone to pitch an idea, but it was silent. You leaned forward and sighed, causing everyone to turn and look at you.

“The child I have been mentoring mentioned seeing something like this in his dreams,” you looked up and made eye contact with Gordie briefly before turning to the Chairman. “He receives premonitions on occasion,” you explained, “He told me about seeing these storms, and seeing Pokémon dynamax in the wild. I believe that if what he is saying is true, then there is something in the stratosphere that is messing with the natural order of our region.” Both the Chairman and Leon tensed at the mention of wild dynamaxing. “Research will have to be conducted by sending something up there to record the data. This experiment will have to be brought to Professor Magnolia and her granddaughter Sonia for further analysis.” You leaned back, folding your hands neatly in your lap.

“Would it be possible to send a Pokémon like Corviknight up there?” Melony asked innocently, tapping her finger against her cheek in thought.

“Not with the risk of wild dynamaxing. If we were to let a dynamaxed Corviknight run wild, all hell would break loose!” Raihan shook his head. “We’ll have to send up a drone or something. No Pokémon. It’s too dangerous.” For once he was thinking rationally, which was rather surprising given the way he ran his gym.

“So what’s to be done about dynamaxed Pokémon in the wild?” Kabu rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. He looked deep in thought. “What are we to tell the public if they see one? What will we do if someone gets killed?”

“I guess what we’ll have to do is clear the area and then engage. That’s what makes the most sense, anyways,” Gordie shrugged. He was right. No civilians should be around. It’d be far too dangerous for them to be near the fight.

The Chairman stepped forward and raised his hands, causing the room to fall silent. A gentle, but fake, smile painted his lips. “Now now, we cannot just rush into action because of a dream a little boy had. We must think clearly. All it is is weather. Dynamaxing Pokémon in the wild? Such a thing is simply unheard of!” You shot him a glare before rising from your seat and pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“This is a threat that should not be taken lightly regardless of whether or not the source is a child! I have seen his premonitions come true in the past, so who’s to say that this one won’t? Did you not ask for suggestions? Did you not ask for help?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “There are going to be innocent lives lost if action isn’t taken.”

“We need you to think rationally for a second, y/n.” Chairman Rose continued to smile, only furthering your anger. You knew the game he was playing, and decided to play along with him. With a deep breath, you wiped your face of any emotion that could be used against you.

“No, what we need are experiments and studies done on the matter at hand. You wanted our input, which is why you put the regions most talented trainers into one room. Why ask for help if you’re going to turn down our suggestions? Do you have something to hide, Rose?” Placing your hands onto the table and hunching over, you eyed your fellow trainers. None of them dared to speak up against the two of you, not even Kabu and Raihan. With a sigh, you stood upright, running your fingers through your hair to collect yourself. The room was filled with tension. You headed towards the door in silence, your hand on the handle as you looked over your shoulder at the Chairman. “You know where to find me.”

And you left just like that. The Chairman struggled to regain the attention of the room afterwards, as everyone seemed uneasy with your warning.

“What if she’s right?” Piers spoke up. Rose had forgotten all about Piers. He cringed internally as he spoke. “The storms and the behavior of the Pokémon. They’ve gotta be connected somehow.” The man crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I dunno a whole lot ‘bout dynamaxing, but I think I get the gist. A substitute might be able to be used to make up for the lack of the bond between Pokémon and trainer, which could lead to the wild dynamaxing. If there’s somethin’ staring enough in the atmosphere, then that might fuck with the power of the Pokémon.” Piers had always been intelligent, despite not being able to receive a proper education. In a way, it made him all the more unlikeable to Rose.

“Surely not. The weather being related to Pokémon behavior? Who’s heard of such a thing?” Chairman Rose continued to smile softly, his hands folded neatly before him. Raihan stood up to defend his peer, and Leon flinched. It was suddenly becoming too much for him to bear.

“Piers has a point here. The weather has affected the behavior of Pokémon before, so why can’t it be doing that now?” He shrugged. “Anyways, I’ve never seen y/n lose her cool like that before, so things must be serious. I don’t care if you believe in premonitions or whatever, it’s something worth looking into.” He left, and Piers followed him. They didn’t know you all too well, but they did know that you were well versed in your work. If you deemed it to be true, then the chances of it being true were high. Rarely were you wrong.

Not too long after Raihan’s exit, Gordie and Melony left. Kabu followed after them, and Nessa and Milo made excuses to get back to their own gyms. Bea hadn’t even shown up to the meeting in the first place, which left Leon with the Chairman.

And he had never seen him so upset.

“Let them do all the research they want,” he waved his arm dismissively. “They’ll never figure it out. To them, it’s just a little bad weather. But you know it’s much more than that,” he turned around and looked deep into Leon’s eyes. “No matter how close they get, they’ll never get there.”

Meanwhile, you were cursing Ballonlea for not having a train station. Now you were forced to ride a flying taxi. In the rain. A severe thunderstorm warning had been issued right as you were leaving Wyndon, and that was when the sky had begun to fall out. You couldn’t remember the last time it had rained so hard, but you were thankful that the Corviknight taking you home was unbothered by it. The wind was strong, though, and it kept blowing the poor thing off of its course.

Once you had landed, you gave the Pokémon a handful of berries and took shelter in the gym. You were soaked, to say the least. The gym was empty, as it was closed for the weekend. With this in mind, you headed to the locker rooms to get changed. The only thing you had in your locker was the official uniform for ghost types, but that was the least of your worries. You let your Pokémon loose before showering and changing. The uniform made you look fourteen all over again. You shuddered.

Outside, the rain continued to pour, hitting the roof of the gym with such force that it made you wince. Thunder roared and lightning flashed all around the town. It seemed the whole region was subjected to the wrath of nature. You had finally gotten brave enough to enter the lobby when Allister rushed into the gym. He was drenched, and his mask was hanging on by a thread. Quickly, you walked over to him and straightened him up, fixing his mask and handing him your towel.

“Why are you here, child? Why are you not back at the house?” You questioned sternly, drying off his hair as gently as you could. He shook his head anxiously and pointed to the lobby doors.

“M-Mimikyu told me there w-was someone in the woods!” The child managed to get out, his voice shaky. He sounded spooked, despite not seeing this person himself.

“Are they okay? Do you know who they are?” You continued to dry him off.

“No… Mimikyu s-said they were lost! I can’t go h-help I’m too scared!” He was begging you to go out into the pouring rain, again, to go save someone that was stuck in the Glimwood Tangle. You really wanted to tell him no, but you just couldn’t. A heavy sigh left your lips as you begrudgingly walked towards the doors. Your Chandelure took it upon itself to follow you, providing some protection for your trip.

The rain was still coming down harshly, but you didn’t let it sway your movement. Someone was lost in an area that you were meant to protect. You weren’t going to leave them behind in a wicked storm like this. There was no telling what could happen to them if you didn’t make it in time.

You started out by walking fast, but then broke out into a jog upon reaching the entrance to the Glimwood Tangle. After searching for a few minutes, you began to call out, praying that the person you were looking for was still conscious. You had begun to shiver, the rain seeping into your skin and chilling your bones. Panic overwhelmed you as you searched. The area was big, naturally, and a proper search would have lasted hours. Finally, you strayed off the main path and into the deep grass.

“Hey!” You shouted, your voice competing with the rain in volume. You then stumbled across a small cave hidden behind some bushes, and upon peering into the entrance, you found what you were looking for. There lay a man on the ground, unconscious and soaked. A Charizard sat behind him. It eyed you warily the closer you got to him, and you were worried it would attack. Thankfully, you were able to get it into its pokéball before anything bad could happen.

Your Chandelure illuminated the area, allowing you to catch a good look at the man you were saving.

“Leon?!” You shouted in surprise, trying your damndest to pull him up off of the ground. He seemed to come to at the sound of your voice, helping you manage his weight the best he could. All you wanted to know was the reason for him being in Ballonlea. Plus with the storm going on outside, it would have been more reasonable to wait it out before traveling.

With the help of your Chandelure, and your Gengar that had found its way to you, you dragged Leon back to your place. It took quite some time, but you made it. Thankfully, Allister had gone back to the house, greeting you at the door with a worried expression. That had been one of the few times you had seen him without his mask on.

“I need you to help me get him to the guest room,” you said through clenched teeth. The weight of the champion on your shoulder was beginning to become unbearable, and you needed to set him down. Allister nodded and helped you get him to the guest bedroom of your house. Leon was absolutely soaked, but you’d deal with that later. He seemed slightly out of it, which made you feel bad. Hesitantly, you sat down on the edge of the bed and whispered to him. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you warmed up here soon. If you need anything, just call for one of us.”

You had taken off his cape and hat, setting them to the side so that they could dry. He looked so different without them. It was like those two things defined his personality. If not for them, then who would he be? You frowned before leaving the room. The storm continued to rage relentlessly outside. This was not how you wished to spend your evening.