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19 ৎ reblog warrior 🥸

[noona96n]

atp the only way Ferrari can win is if Gojo Satoru himself is their driver

[nixdvn]

Pocky game with Caleb! (old art)

[konoko]

[chanelrolls]

in the middle of the woods

rating: explicit/nsfw 18+ category: f/m, caleb x non-mc!reader tags: slowburn to explicit, post-graduation au, multiple scenes, dead dove, dubcon, suspense, thriller, mentions of blood/killing/dead/cutting, being saved by caleb, being comforted by caleb, forced proximity, stuck in a cabin, stockholm syndrome, engineer!caleb, awkward!caleb, goodytwoshoes!caleb, paranoid!reader, reader smokes, caleb takes real good care of you, making out, cunnilingus, marking, titplay, fingering. synopsis: what could possibly unfold when a boy you’ve known from your highschool days miraculously comes to save you from a sadistic serial killer and offers you to stay the night in his cabin? wordcount: 20k a/n: please read at your own risk.

keep your eyes closed just a little longer. 

can you hear it? 

the sound of your own shoes dragging through the wet loam, the clumsy scraping of a girl who has suddenly run out of room in her own story.

let’s go back to the car, just for a second. 

back to where the air inside the car felt choked by the stench of stale iron—like an old toolbox left out in the rain. he hadn't said a single word to you, had he? that was the part that made your heart thrash against your ribs. monsters in the movies always growl, always give you a reason to fear them, but this one just had those quiet hands. when his leather-gloved fingers shoved you back against the passenger seat, it felt like being tucked into a coffin by someone who was simply doing their chores.

“get off—ugh, let me go!” the words were nothing but little scraps of sound, bouncing uselessly off the dashboard.

you weren't a delicate creature who knew how to faint on cue, though. no, you were wilder than that. 

your boots found the floorboards, digging in until the rubber groaned, and you lunged forward with your teeth bared. when you bit down on the rough canvas of his sleeve, you tasted a faint hint of peppermint. it was an ugly, frantic thing. he didn't even flinch, not even when your knee drove hard into the center of his chest. he just tilted his wrist, and that sharp little silver tooth of a dagger bit down into your thigh. one. two. three. four times. a sickening prickle of heat that turned the dark woods outside into a blinding flash of pure white canvas.

“aaagh!!”

but it bought you a second. just enough for your numb fingers, tied, to catch the cold metal of the door latch.

and then, tumble. crack. you were down in the dirt, out in the five o'clock air.

running when your hands are bound tightly behind your back with plastic zip-ties is such a silly childish sight, isn't it? you looked like a little bird with its wings clipped, tilting dangerously forward as you leapt over the mossy roots of the acacia trees. behind you, the heavy thud of the car door closing wasn't loud, but it settled deep in your chest.

run, run.

the sky above was throwing a tantrum, bleeding out into a bruised palette of deep violet and charcoal clouds. the acacias hung their heads low, their massive branches whispering secrets to each other as the first few drops of cold rain began to prickle the air.

“help! please, is anyone out there?” 

your jeans were soaked through now, the dark denim turning heavy and stiff as the warm ribbons of red ran down your shins. every step was a blind guess. you couldn't see the sharp stones hidden beneath the carpet of dead leaves, couldn't tell where the earth simply dropped off into the black throat of the ravine. you were just a panicked thing breaking through the brambles, your heart drumming a frantic little rhythm against your ribs, running from a hunter who didn't even have to chase you to keep you moving.

but the universe is a playful storyteller, and it loves to toy with its favorites.

with a sharp gasp, your boot caught the slick underbelly of a wet log. the earth rushed up to meet you, knocking the air right out of your lungs with a miserable huff. you stayed there for a moment, your cheek pressed into the rotting mulch. stay down, the mud seemed to whisper. it’s easier if you stay down.

everything was gone. your purse, your keys, the small trinkets of your ordinary life—all left behind on that leather seat. but there was still a reassuring weight pressing against your hip. your phone was still there, tucked away in the closed pocket of your jeans.

you twisted your torso, your purple-tipped fingers scratching uselessly against the thick fabric behind your back. but with your wrists clamped together so tightly, your hands were nothing but clumsy weights. you couldn't even reach the metal teeth of the zipper. you wanted to cry out again, to scream for a savior, but the woods had grown eerily quiet. if you made a sound, you’d be giving the man with the knife a perfect map straight to your hiding place. so you just lay there, grinding your wrists against the plastic ties until the skin split, hot tears finally cutting clean paths through the grime on your face. please, just break. please.

snap!

only it wasn't the plastic that broke. it was a twig, just a few feet away.

instantly your head jerked up, eyes wide and glassy with a primitive sort of horror as you pressed your spine hard against the rough bark of the log. through the misty twilight, a silhouette stepped out from between the acacias. a tall, familiar frame. an oversized hoodie that looked entirely too ordinary for a nightmare like this.

a boy.

for some reason, your brain gave a dizzy little hiccup—a spark of memory that felt like looking at a blurred high school yearbook through a window. wait... do i know those eyes? but your survival instinct didn't care about names. it just screamed at you to crawl, and so you scrambled forward on your knees like a broken doll, throwing your weight toward him.

“please,” you sobbed, your voice breaking into pieces. “please, you have to help me... there’s a man... he has a knife...”

the boy stopped dead in his tracks. for a heartbeat, his face went completely blank—a sort of stillness that felt a bit too quiet. then, like a curtain being pulled back, his expression shattered into pure breathless panic.

“oh my god—hey, hey, stop moving, what the fuck happened to you?”

he dropped heavily into the leaves, his knees sinking into the damp dirt. his hands hovered over your shaking shoulders, trembling slightly as if he were afraid that touching you would make you fall apart into smaller pieces.

you knew this guy. it was... calvin. wait, no, clark? cal... caleb! 

caleb from senior high. the boy who used to sit just two rows ahead of you in class. what was he doing out here in the deep woods? why now? 

none of it mattered, anyway. he wasn't the man in the mask. he was safe. and you have to ask for help. 

“jesus, your legs... you're bleeding so much,” he stammers, his eyes wide and swimming with concern while he takes in the state of your torn denim. “are you okay? can you hear me? who did this to you?”

isn't it beautiful how the world works? out of all the corners in this forest, the universe dropped a safe familiar boy right into your path. you could finally let go of the breath you’d been holding. everything was going to be fine now.

the tiny click of his pocketknife was the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. the moment the plastic tie snapped, your hands flew forward like trapped birds escaping a cage. your fingers were stiff, burning with a painful rush of pins and needles, but you ignored it, shoving your hand into your pocket to pull out the small rectangle of your phone.

your thumb left a dark smudge of dirt across the glass as the screen flashed to life, illuminating your pale face in a harsh square of digital light. no service. the little gray bars in the top corner were empty, a row of hollow lines laughing at your desperation. you dialed the three emergency digits anyway, your thumb shaking so violently you could barely hit the glass, but the screen just spun a uselessly endless circle before dropping into nothingness.

“no, no, no... please, work,” you whispered, the tears finally spilling over your lashes. you instinctively reached out, your fingers bunching into the fabric of his jacket before you even realized you were gripping him. “please—your phone. try your phone. we need the police. we need an ambulance right now!”

he looked down at you, his features soft and utterly helpless, heavy with pity. he slowly pulled his own phone from his pocket, his thumb tapping the glass with a worried crease between his brows, before turning the empty screen toward you. “there's nothing,” he said softly, voice dropping into a comforting murmur meant to soothe your rising hysteria. “we’re too deep down in the valley. the reception doesn't really reach out here...”

“w-we have to walk then,” you babbled, a spike of adrenaline forcing you to try and push yourself upward. you pressed your palms against his shoulders, trying to force your legs to bear your weight, but the moment you put pressure on your right thigh, the cuts ripped open with a blinding flare of agony. your knee buckled instantly, the world tilting sideways as your vision went fuzzy.

if he hadn't caught you, your head would have cracked right against the rotted log.

but caleb’s arms were right there, locked around your waist to keep you from falling. “hey, hey, hey easy. please stop trying to move,” he coos, his voice falling right back into that familiar one you remember from years ago, though he looked at you with the detached worry of a stranger who had simply stumbled upon a tragedy. “you can't run in this state, ma'am. you're losing too much blood, and the main highway is miles away. if you try to walk, you're going to collapse before we even make it past the ridge.”

then, he fell silent.

his hands stayed planted firmly on your hips, placing you against him. for a long second, the frantic panic on his face settled into something else—something unreadable, calculated, and entirely too still. his violet eyes slowly dragged down the length of your torn jeans, watching the way the wet crimson was staining the fabric. he took in the shivering curve of your exposed throat, the way your breath came in terrified little hitches.

“please, ma'am, listen to me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your freezing cheek. “my cabin is just over the crest. it’s not far, maybe a five-minute walk at most. i can wash these cuts, bind them up so you stop bleeding, and let you rest. once the storm passes and you're stable, i'll get you out of here. okay?”

no, no, you wanted to fight him on it. you wanted the safety of a hospital room, the comfort of the lights, the security of walls that didn't belong to a lonely house hidden in the middle of nowhere. but your body was giving up. the blood loss was drawing a curtain over your mind, making your eyelids feel like lead weights. 

the air was turning freezing cold, and caleb was the only warm thing left in the whole world.

before you could even mutter a protest, he shifted his weight, slipping one strong arm under the crook of your knees and the other behind your shoulders. he lifted you effortlessly, pulling you tightly against his chest as if you weighed nothing at all.

“hospital...” you managed to slur, the word breaking apart on your lips. “take me... to the hospital...”

“no need for now, alright? i’ve got you,” he murmured back—the very last thing you heard. 

—

you open your eyes. slowly.

and there, you find yourself—

tucked away so neatly, blanketed on a sunken couch that divots deeply under your weight, right within the quiet premises of the cabin caleb promised an hour ago. the orange glow of a crackling fireplace dances across the exposed timber walls, casting playful shadows that stretch across the floorboards like reaching fingers. you’re still wearing the same clothes, dried into uncomfortable creases against your skin, and the iron tang of your own blood has cooked into a heavy musk under the warmth of the wool thrown over you.

just as the fog in your mind begins to lift, a rhythmic scuff of socks echoes from the far end of the hallway.

out steps caleb—carrying a candlestick, the small yellow flame haloing his face in a way that makes him look almost saintly, a golden boy stepping out from the shadows to check on his patient. the moment his eyes find yours open in the firelight, his entire posture softens, with shoulders dropping into a visible sigh of relief.

“oh, thank goodness,” he rushes to you, his steps hurried but careful, setting the candlelight down on a small wooden side table where it flickers against the polished grain. “you're awake. i... jesus, i am so sorry about all of this. the situation, the... the place. it’s a bit rustic, i know, and it probably feels terrifying waking up somewhere, you know, after what you've been through.”

you try to swallow, but your throat feels like it's coated in sand. 

your head is still heavily fogged, swimming with the lingering aftereffects of shock and blood loss, so all you can do is look around cautiously, wordlessly, and tiredly. 

the cabin is small, wrapped in dark wood, the corners swallowed by a cozy gloom. on the table beside the candle, a white plastic medical kit sits waiting, its red cross staring back at you like a clinical eye...

“oh, uhm- i wanted to wait until you woke up before i did anything,” caleb explains gently, kneeling down by the edge of the couch so he's at eye level with you. “i didn't want to start treating your wounds while you were unconscious. i thought... well, given everything, waking up to a stranger touching you would be a nightmare.”

you try to shift, pulling your legs inward to sit up, but the movement drags the dried denim against the raw gashes along your thighs. so the cuts sting fiercely, a sharp reminder of the dagger that makes you wince. “ugh—”

“hey, hey—don't move, please,” caleb says instantly, moving closer and sitting on the very edge of the cushion beside you. his hand hovers over your knee, twitching slightly as if he wants to press you back down, but he keeps his distance to maintain that careful boundary. “you're going to tear the edges of the cuts open again. just... stay still.”

he looks down at your legs, and a subtle awkward tension thickens the air between you. 

with your tight jeans still on, it’s obvious to both of you—it would be incredibly hard to treat cuts that high up without getting the fabric out of the way. he clears his throat, his cheeks catching a faintly boyish flush in the firelight as he pulls the medical kit a little closer, though he doesn't make a move to touch you.

you ignore his gentle commands, your brain completely bypassing the medical kit, because of a cold prickle of reality beginning to chip away at the warmth. your eyes travel past his shoulder, fixing onto the dark pane of the window. outside, the rain is persistent and incredibly loud.

“...what time is it?” your voice comes out rough, cracking against the quiet of the cabin.

caleb blinks, shifting his weight as he awkwardly clears his throat again, his gaze deliberately facing away from your legs, staring instead at the flickering hearth. “it’s... just past seven, the storm really rolled in fast. it's coming down pretty hard out there.”

“seven?” 

two hours. 

you’ve been away for two hours. 

and your bag is gone. 

and your phone is fucking dead. 

you turn back to him, your eyes growing more frantic as the questions begin to tumble out of you, one after another, getting faster and more panicked by the second. “where exactly are we, caleb? how far is the road? did you see anyone else out there? did you hear a car? my family—someone is going to notice i'm missing, they're going to call the police, we need to try the phones again, there has to be a landline here, right? caleb, is there a landline?”

there was a tiny microscopic hitch in his shoulders, the sort of stillness that makes the fire crackle just a little louder in the silence. he doesn't answer right away. instead, his head turns slowly back toward you, the candlelight catching the genuine confusion written across his brow. his lips part, a faint perplexed half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as he points a finger at his own chest.

“wait, how... how do you know my name? have we... met before tonight?”

you stare at him, your own panic temporarily short-circuiting into bewilderment. 

huh, how did he not remember you? 

your mind races, digging through the fog. sure, you two were never close—never the type to hang out after the final bell or trade text messages—but you sat right behind him during senior year calculus. you watched him doodle in the margins of his notebook for an entire semester. you walked the same stage at graduation. granted, it had been years, and people change, but to be erased from someone's memory while you were currently bleeding out on their couch felt like a joke.

“a-are you serious?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly as you look at him. “caleb. caleb xia, right? we went to senior high together, we graduated from the same school.”

caleb blinks, his brow furrowing deeper as he genuinely seems to search his brain, looking at you with clueless eyes. “i—yeah, that's my name, but... high school? sorry i'm trying to place you, but my head is kind of spinning right now with the whole... you know, finding you in the woods thing.” he bites his lip, that was a bit too insensitive? “uh did you go to the main campus?”

“yes!” you burst out, frustrated by the sheer absurdity of the timing. “we were literally in the same department. we took the same core classes. think about it—do you remember section three? mr. harrison's homeroom? the room right at the end of the second-floor hall next to the old laboratory?”

there is an agonizing stretch of silence where caleb just stares at you. 

the rain hammers against the windowpane, loud and persistent, filling the gap between your desperate breaths. and then he looks at your face, eyes tracing your features with a deliberate attempt that makes the hairs on your arms stand up, though his expression remains perfectly and innocently blank.

then, his eyes widen—

“oh!” he lets out a breathless gasp, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck in sudden realization.

“oh my god, to think that you still remember me...” he breathes, shaking his head as a self-deprecating smile breaks across his face. “wow. you're... you're that girl. you're [name], right? from the back row? wow, jesus, i am so stupid. sorry, [name]. it’s been what, four, five years? what are the odds?”

“clearly very high.” you mutter, rubbing your temple as a fresh wave of exhaustion hits you. a chill ripples down your spine despite the heat of the fire—something about the seamlessness of his realization feels just a fraction too neat, but you shake it off. you don't have the mental capacity to analyze high school politics right now. “look, it doesn't matter. the point is, i need to get to a hospital, caleb. or a police station.”

“right, right, obviously,” caleb slides off the edge of the cushion, kneeling back down on the floorboards and pulling the white plastic medical kit toward him. the latch pops open with a snap. “but like i said, the storm is terrible right now and you're actively bleeding through your clothes. we need to clean these cuts before they get infected. let me just get the antiseptic and the gauze, and i can—”

“i can do it myself,” your hand extends to block his path, palm flat against the cool plastic lid of the box.

caleb stops, his fingers hovering over a roll of white bandages. he tilts his head, looking up at you through his eyelashes with a look that is too innocent. “are- are you sure? you can barely sit up straight without wincing. it's really no trouble, i can just do it for you. i took a first-aid course back in college, i promise i won't mess it up.”

you look down at him, one of your eyebrows slowly arching as the reality of the situation settles between you. 

“caleb,” you say, deadpanning. “they're thigh wounds. you're... implying that you're going to sit there and watch me take off my jeans?”

immediately, caleb’s cheeks catch a bright furious flush, the boyish color rushing all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

“no! no, oh my god, obviously not,” he mumbles, you could clearly hear his voice cracking while he scrambles backward an inch or two on his knees. “i swear i wasn't thinking about it like that. i just saw the blood and kinda panicked. i am so sorry, didn't mean to make you... uncomfortable at all.” 

you remained quiet, looking at the medical kit, then down at the dark crimson patches drying high up on the denim of your thighs, and then right back into his eyes.

“look, i'll—i'll just give you the supplies. i can leave the room, i'll go to the kitchen, get some water, whatever you need. and you go ahead.” he looks so genuinely flustered, so thoroughly embarrassed by his own lack of foresight, that a tiny part of the tension in your chest actually loosens. he’s still the same harmless, easily flustered guy from senior high. 

safe... 

respectable...

—

the bathroom of the cabin had been a cold sort of mercy. peeling the copper-scented denim away from the raw gashes on your thighs had brought tears to your eyes, the hot water from the showerhead stinging the freshly bandaged wounds until your hips throbbed in rhythm with your pulse. but the clothes caleb had left hanging on the brass hook outside the door were clean. they smelled deeply of laundry detergent and cedar, though they were too large—the soft grey sweatpants bunched heavily over your ankles, and the oversized flannel shirt hung low enough to clip the backs of your knees. it made you look small, swamped, and ridiculously fragile.

you stepped back out into the main room, twisting the damp ends of your hair into a white towel. 

but as your eyes swept the room, you froze.

caleb wasn't by the couch. he wasn't tending to the fire, nor was he standing awkwardly by the kitchen counter like you’d expected. it was something far much more unexpected, because instead he was sitting exceptionally straight in a heavy wooden chair by the small dining table at the end of the room. 

his broad shoulders were squared, large hands resting flat against the dark wood in a posture that felt way too rigid, too deliberate. on the table between his hands sat a dark bottle of red wine, two tall-stemmed glasses catching the amber firelight, and a large ceramic plate piled with perfectly seared cuts of meat that were still glistening with warm fat.

you stopped in your tracks, one hand still holding the towel over your shoulder with your eyebrow slowly crawling upward. 

how... domestic? 

it looked like a dinner date. a romantic little setup prepared solely for you, laid out in the middle of a literal survival nightmare. it was so incredibly and profoundly awkward that you didn't even know how to orient your mouth to speak.

caleb caught your expression.

“oh—hey! you're out,” he stammered, his voice jumping a half-octave before he gestured vaguely toward the table. “i... uh, i hope the clothes fit okay? and, i’m sorry if this looks... weird. or sudden. i just thought, you know, you’ve been through a lot out there earlier, and your body probably needs the protein. i had some steak in the cooler, and... well..."

he broke off, clearing his throat awkwardly as he picked up the wine bottle, thumb nervously tracing the edge of the label.

“and the wine, it’s... it’s been sitting in the cabinet for months,” he rambled on, his violet eyes darting to your face and then quickly dropping back down to the polished wood. “it’s a really nice vintage, honestly. my dad gave it to me, and it just felt like... it would be a total shame not to share it with someone. and since you’re here, and it’s raining, and we’re stuck... i just thought it might help take the edge off the shock, no?”

you watched him tumble over his own words, your mind working through the surreal nature of the moment. you walked over to the edge of the dining area, your bare feet making no sound against the floorboards. deliberately, you unraveled the towel from your head and began folding it into a neat square, draping it over the high back of an empty chair.

“...do you have any cigarettes?” you had asked.

caleb blinked up at you, his thumb freezing against the wine bottle. as if the concept of a cigarette had never crossed his mind in his entire life. “cigarettes? oh. uh... no. no, sorry, [name]. i don't smoke.”

“shucks.” you let out a humorless little breath, dropping your hands from the chair.

you didn't pull out the seat, though. you didn't sit across from him at the neatly set table, and you certainly didn't lean into the cozy and intimate atmosphere he had so carefully constructed. you felt more comfortable with reaching across the dark wood, fingers wrapping around the stem of one of the wine glasses, and then taking the heavy ceramic plate of meat right out from the center of the table.

caleb watched you, his mouth parting slightly as you simply turned on your heel, walking away from the dining setup entirely.

you walked back over to the fireplace, the heat hitting your face in a comforting wave. with a soft grunt, you lowered yourself directly onto the floor near the hearth, tucking your oversized sweatpants around your ankles. you set the plate in your lap and the wine glass beside your knee, content to eat like an exhausted animal on the floor and miles away from the polite constraints of a dinner table.

“are you... comfortable down there?” caleb’s voice drifted over from the dining area, sounding faint and distinctly hollow.

“perfectly,” you replied, picking up a piece of the meat with your fingers, not even caring about silverware. “the fire is warm.”

“right. yeah. the fire is good,” 

“and thank you, for the food.” from where you sat, focused on the crackling logs and the heavy comfort of the red wine coating your throat, you couldn't see his face. you couldn't see the way caleb remained seated at that table, a few meters away in the shadows. you couldn't see the utter, freezing disappointment that washed over his features, the soft curve of his mouth twisting into something odd while he stared at the back of your damp head.

the scent of the wine was just beginning to blunt the raw edge of your nerves when you decided to break the silence. you chewed slowly, swallowed, and leaned your head back against the edge of the couch. “so, what is this place, anyway? and why do you quite literally live in the middle of nowhere?”

at the table, the tension in caleb’s shoulders evaporated. it was like watching a wilted flower catch a drop of water—he lit up, immediately grabbed his own finished plate to discard it down the sink with an easygoing smile returning to his face.

“oh, this? it’s actually my grandfather’s old hunting lodge,” caleb answered, his voice rich and fluid while he stepped out of the dining area with the wine glass and walked into the warm radius of the firelight. “he left it to me when he passed away a couple of years ago. it was pretty run-down, but i've been fixing it up by myself whenever i get a break from work. it's quiet. and really nice.”

with ease, caleb lowered his large frame directly onto the floorboards, sitting a few feet away from you. he kept a careful distance—close enough to share the warmth of the hearth, but far enough that your knees wouldn't brush. 

“must be a long drive to work if you're living out here permanently,” you remarked, poking at another piece of meat. you’d always been a slow eater, but tonight the exhaustion made your hands heavy.

“well, i don't live here full-time, just most weekends,” he swirled the dark red liquid in his glass, his eyes reflecting the orange tongues of the fire. “and my job isn't exactly local. i'm actually based out of the regional airfield near the coast now. aha, i went into aeronautical engineering after graduation.”

you paused, a piece of meat halfway to your mouth. you turned your head to look at him. “aeronautics? i figured you’d end up in business or something corporate. you always looked like the type.”

caleb let out a boyish chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “yeah, everyone thought that. my dad wanted me to take over his agency, actually. but i don't know... i like things that are precise. there's a weird comfort in that kind of control.” he pursed his lips inwards, stealing a glance from you. “like- like if a plane stays in the air, it’s because you engineered it perfectly. no room for variables.”

“sounds tedious,” you muttered, taking a sip of the wine.

“it can be,” he agreed, his gaze shifting from the glass straight to your face again. “but it pays well. and it gives me enough free time to come out here and disappear for a few days. but uh, what about you, [name]? last i heard, you were finishing up your degree city-side. what brings you back to the outskirts? and... working at that restaurant by the highway?”

“it's just supposed to be temporary until i figured out my next move. then the shit earlier happened.”

“jesus, [name]...” caleb’s voice dropped into a sympathetic murmur. “i still can't believe it. when i heard the screaming through the trees, i thought i was losing my mind. to think you were just working a normal shift and then... some psycho...” he trailed off, shaking his head as if the weight of the reality was too much for his sensibilities to handle. “have you seen anyone suspicious hanging around the restaurant lately? any weird customers? stalkers?”

“no,” you said, your eyes fixed on the flames. “it's a quiet place. mostly truckers and old couples. the man... he didn't say anything. just grabbed me from the alley behind the kitchen while i was taking out the trash.”

“that's insane,” caleb whispered, his expression darkening with a protective sort of worry. “the world is getting so fucked up. but hey... you're safe now, you're here. he's not getting through that door.”

“i know,” 

you turned your head to look at him, intending to ask about the old high school crew, but as your eyes met his, a strange feeling established itself.

you held his gaze for a second, two seconds—but caleb’s eyes on yours didn't waver. they were perfectly and intensely still, holding your stare with an unblinking confidence that felt entirely out of character for the stuttering, flustered boy from minutes ago. after a moment, the weight of it felt too heavy, and you were the one who blinked your eyes back to the fire.

“do you ever hear from anyone else?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing naturally. “like... gideon? or that girl who used to sit next to you—tara?”

“tara moved to the capital, and gideon... well, gideon and i lost touch after he started getting into some sketchy stuff. people drift, you know? you think you know someone in high school, and then years later, they’re a completely different person.”

“yeah,” you murmured, cutting another piece of meat. “people do change.”

“or maybe they just stop hiding who they always were,” 

you looked up again, caught by the odd phrasing, and once more, his eyes were already there waiting for you. they were dark, absolute, and perfectly locked onto your own. again, an instinctual prickle of discomfort made you break the contact first, your eyes dropping down to your glass. maybe he was just like that, you reasoned. some people just had intense eye contact. it didn't mean anything.

“either way,” caleb said, his tone warming up as he raised his wine glass toward you in a silent toast. “i'm just glad i was the one who found you tonight, [name]. out of everyone else who could have been in these woods... i'm really glad it was me.”

the warmth of the red wine had just begun to settle in your stomach when the words finally caught up to your brain. working at that restaurant by the highway.

you paused, your fork hovering a few inches above the ceramic plate. “wait a minute... how did you know i worked at that restaurant?”

for a fleeting second, his shoulders went rigid, and his gaze dropped from your face, breaking eye-contact to stare down at the dark remnants of wine in his glass. it was the first time tonight he had been the one to look away first.

then, just as quickly as it had vanished, the sheepish smile slid back onto his face. he let out an amused huff, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “oh, that? well, i drive past that stretch of the highway all the time when i'm heading out to the airfield. i've seen you through the front windows a couple of times while i was stopping for gas across the street. it’s hard to miss a familiar face, even if it’s been years.”

you raised an eyebrow, “and you didn't bother stopping in to say hi?”

“well...” caleb chuckled, his cheeks catching that familiar flush in the firelight as he looked back up at you through his lashes. “we weren't exactly friends in high school, you know? i didn't want to be that weird guy who bursts into your workplace like, hey, remember me from highschool? i figured it’d just be awkward for both of us.”

you stared at him, letting the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable. your fingers tightened slightly around the stem of your glass. “so you did recognize me. which means when you found me out in the woods... you already knew my face?”

caleb’s hand froze against the back of his neck.

“but earlier,” you continued, “you acted like you had no idea who i was. you asked if we'd ever met. you even made me list out our old high school section just to get you to remember my name.”

caleb stopped rubbing his neck. he didn't stumble over his words this time. he just sat there on the floorboards, staring right into your eyes with that stillness you had noticed earlier. then, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, nodding slowly to himself. a breathy laugh escaped his lips.

“okay,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a smoother and an entirely unbothered tone. “fine. you caught me. i kind of lied.” he swirled his wine, watching the dark liquid catch the orange glow of the hearth. “i did recognize you when i pulled you out of the brush, [name]. but it’s true that i genuinely couldn't remember your name right away. my... brain was in full panic mode seeing all that blood. but as for the rest of it... yeah. aha. i played dumb for a second.”

an uneasy spike of suspicion bloomed right in the center of your chest. your survival instinct, the one that had been temporarily put to sleep by the warm blankets and the steak, suddenly jolted awake. “why... would you lie about something like that, caleb?”

“because think about it,” caleb answered instantly, turning his head to face you full. “it’s already an incredibly high-stress situation. you’re running for your life, you’re bleeding, you’re... traumatized. then you stumble upon a guy you used to know, but barely talked to, living in a secluded cabin. don't you think it would feel just a little bit... awkward? or weirdly intense if i immediately went, oh hey, [name], wild seeing you here!?” his eyes searched your face as he momentarily placed the glass on the floor. “i thought it would be easier on you if we just focused on getting you safe first, without the weird high school baggage. you know, i was just trying to keep things low-key.”

you remained quiet, eyes dropping down to your empty plate. you didn't nod. you didn't tell him it was fine. you just left the explanation hanging in the air between you, letting it rot.

it’s not safe out here. 

it didn't matter that he had sat two rows ahead of you five years ago. it didn't matter that he had an aeronautics career or a nice smile. you were a wounded, exhausted girl trapped in a damn cabin in the middle of a raging storm, miles away from civilization, alone with a man.

you looked away, your gaze fixing onto the persistent sheets of rain lashing against the windowpane, your mind frantically trying to map out a way to stay awake until dawn.

“hey.”

you turned your head back toward the hearth, your breath catching in your throat as you realized caleb had moved. he had inched closer across the floorboards while you were lost in your thoughts. now, he was resting his elbow directly on the plush edge of the couch right behind your shoulder, resting his temple against his fist, tilting his head slightly so he was looking up at you from under his thick lashes.

“what are you thinking about there so hard?” a small, almost teasing smile played at the corners of his lips. “you aren't... suspicious of me, are you, [name]?”

“no,” you forced a shrug of your shoulders, keeping your palms perfectly loose against the floor. “why would i be suspicious? you saved my life... i-i’m just tired. my head feels like it’s full of cotton.”

it was the safest play. 

if he really was someone you needed to fear, showing your teeth now—when you could barely stand without your thighs screaming in agony—would be nothing short of suicide. 

caleb stared at you for one more second, his eyes searching the micro-expressions on your face from beneath his lashes. 

“good,” he let out a relieved chuckle, pushing himself up from the floor. “because if you were, i’d have to start questioning my hospitality skills. my ego wouldn't be able to take that tonight.” he reached down to gather the empty ceramic plates and the two wine glasses, turning toward the small kitchen alcove. “you've been through a lot tonight, [name]. i think it's time to call it a night? you can take the bedroom,”

“i can sleep here.” you said quickly, gesturing vaguely toward the plush couch near the hearth. “you ...don't have to give up your room for me. i've already taken up enough of your space.”

“absolutely not,” caleb called out over his shoulder, the sound of running water echoing from the sink while he rinsed the dishes. “i am a lot of things, but a bad host isn't one of them. you're wounded and you need a proper bed, so i'll take the couch.”

he turned off the tap, drying his hands on a dishtowel before walking back over to you. 

he extended a hand, fingers open and waiting. “come on. let's get you sorted out.”

—

caleb guided you down the short, dimly lit hallway toward the back of the cabin. when he pushed the wooden door open, the space that greeted you was surprisingly large—far more spacious and clean than the rustic exterior of the lodge suggested. in fact, it looked a bit too clean. the dark wooden dresser was pristine, the bedside table completely bare, and the large queen-sized bed was stripped down to a simple fitted sheet. 

it almost looked like a room that had been meticulously prepared for a guest who hadn't arrived yet.

“sorry it’s a little bare in here,” caleb broke the silence. “i usually just crash on the couch myself when i'm working on the place, so i haven't really decorated the bedroom yet- oh, let me get the comforter out of the closet.” he crossed the room, pulling a massively thick comforter from the built-in wardrobe. it was a heavy plush thing, clad in a crisp grey duvet cover.

“alright,” he grunted, shaking it out. “help me spread this out so you don't freeze to death tonight.”

you limped over to the opposite side of the mattress, catching the corners of the heavy fabric as he tossed them over. but it was incredibly thick, and the duvet seemed to have a mind of its own, bunching up inside the cover like a stubborn weight. when you tried to pull it toward your side, your foot caught on the edge of the bed frame, making you stumble slightly. caleb lunged across the mattress to catch the fabric before it slid off, his own weight dragging the entire comforter into a tangled knot right in the dead center of the bed.

you both froze, staring at the absolute disaster of crumpled grey fabric between you.

this is... awkward. 

“well,” caleb said, his voice deadpan as he looked from the tangled mess up to your face. “i did mention i went into engineering, right? clearly, that does not translate to making a bed?” 

a sudden laugh bubbled up from your throat before you could stop it—a genuine sound that cut clean through the lingering web of suspicion in your chest. it was just so ridiculous. you were running for your life a few hours ago, and now you were having a tug-of-war with a blanket.

caleb’s face immediately lit up at the sound of your laughter, his eyes crinkling into crescents before he let out a loud chuckle of his own. “don't laugh at me! this is a two-person job, [name], you clearly pulled too hard on your end.”

“i pulled because you were hoarding the entire left side,” 

“i was not hoarding!” he protested playfully, finally managing to untangle the knot and smooth the heavy comforter across the mattress with a satisfying whack. “there. perfect. good job, caleb.” he stepped back, dusting his hands off with a satisfied smirk before turning his attention back to you. “...you should be good now. the pillows are fresh. if you need another blanket, just yell, 'kay? i’ll be right outside.”

“...thanks, caleb,” despite of your head telling you to stay alert, you allowed your own voice to show the small thread of gratitude weaved into it. “really. for everything.”

“don't mention it,” he stepped toward the doorway and caught the brass handle, pausing for a moment to look back at you over his shoulder. “lock the door from the inside if it makes you feel better. i won't mind. just get some sleep and we’ll figure out you going home first thing in the morning.”

“okay. goodnight.”

“goodnight, [name].”

and finally, he closed the door with a click. 

you stood in the quiet room for a long moment, listening to the muffled sound of his retreating footsteps when he walked back down the hallway toward the living room. meanwhile, the rain continued to beat a persistent rhythm against the bedroom window. 

slowly, you walked over to the door and turned the small thumb-lock, the metallic snap providing a fragile shield against the dark. you crawled beneath the cedar-scented comforter, your exhausted body sinking into the mattress as you stared up at the dark ceiling. 

he was safe. he had to be. he was just caleb—just the same boy from before.

—

tick. tick. tick.

the sound of a small wood-framed clock somewhere in the shadows is the first thing that bites through your sleep. 

you hadn't even realized you’d drifted off, but the blackness of the midnight hours has already swallowed the evening whole. you wake with a faint groan catching in your throat, your eyelids being heavy with the residue of exhaustion and red wine.

you turn your head to the side, expecting the warm flicker of the candles caleb had left on the bedside desks.

nothing.

the room is ...pitch black. 

the candles are entirely gone—not just blown out, but absent. 

adrenaline instantly slices straight through your groggy brain, melting the last remnants of sleep. and then your eyes travel to the foot of the bed, only to see that—

the door is open.

it isn't really wide open, just slightly ajar, a narrow slice of dim orange light cutting through the darkness from the hallway outside. a thin sliver of the living room’s dying hearth dances across the floorboards like a warning. 

how...? 

you distinctly remember the weight of the little brass thumb-lock turning under your fingers....

a lock doesn't just undo itself in the dead of night.

gone was the cozy and domestic quiet of a boy hosting an old classmate; now it’s a tight breathless suspense, like the air inside a room right before a balloon pops. every instinct you possess—the cold-blooded survival code that got you out of that leather passenger seat—screams at you to move.

carefully, so carefully, you slide your legs out from beneath the heavy down comforter. the grey sweatpants caleb lent you sweep against the sheets with a hush that sounded more like a roar in your ears. the moment your bare feet touch the cold floor, the gashes along your thighs throb in protest, a burning ache that you force yourself to swallow. you don't wince. you don't breathe.

you creep toward the vertical slit of the door, fingers pressing lightly against the wood as you peer out into the hall.

all the candlelights have been shut dead, their little wicks pinched into cold black stumps. the only illumination left is the bleeding glow of the hearth in the living room, casting distorted shadows against the dark wood walls.

your bare feet make no sound while you steal down the hallway, and your eyes scan the darkness, hunting for a silhouette, a mask, the silver glint of a dagger. 

if your lock was bypassed... if someone broke in while you were unconscious...

you round the corner into the living room, your chest heaving in shallow and silent hitches.

there, on the plush couch near the fireplace, laid a shape. 

you freeze, your muscles locking instantly in place. but as you squint through the deep red gloom, you realize it’s just caleb. he’s wrapped entirely in his thick blanket, his large frame buried beneath the wool. his head is tilted back against the cushion with eyes shut. 

he looks completely peaceful, harmless.

but a fresh wave of horror washes over your skin.

if caleb is asleep right here... and the front door is still barred from the inside... then who the fuck opened your bedroom door? did the masked man find a way in without making a sound? did he look at you while you slept? 

your mind spins a terrifying web of variables, but you refused to just let yourself panic. there is no room for tears. there is no room for questions. there is only the necessity of getting out.

you turn away from the sleeping boy, your eyes scanning the dark perimeter of the room. you need a tool. a weapon. a map. a landline. anything.

as you glide toward the dark wooden cabinets flanking the stone hearth, your fingers were trembling slightly. you slide the first latch open, the wood giving a slow creak. you reach inside, your hands blindly rummaging through the contents—old decks of cards, manuals, boxes of matches, heavy iron tools for the fireplace. your fingertips scrape against the rough edge of a folded piece of paper. a map? a ledger? could it be? you immediately pull it out, trying to catch the faint red light of the dying embers to read the print.

please. just give me a direction. let me find the highway. i need to go home.

“[name]?”

you immediately jerked your shoulders back at the voice, the paper slipping from your fingers and fluttering back into the open cabinet drawer. 

shit, caleb is awake.

as you turned around to face him, he was already sat up on the couch, the wool blanket pooled in folds around his hips. and...

he was... shirtless.

you couldn't help your eyes from flicking down to the broad line of his shoulders and the manly expanse of his torso before you forced your gaze back up to his face. you knew plenty of guys slept like that, but the domesticity of it felt like a trap. there was no time to get flustered right now. your fingers curled into tight fists against the cabinet door.

“what...” caleb's voice came out thick, raspy with sleep. he blinked up at you while rubbing his left eye. “what are you doing up this late?”

you awkwardly cleared your throat, the sound dry and scratching against the quiet of the room. you needed an excuse that didn't involve the open bedroom door or the fact that you were currently hunting for a map to escape whatever it is you need to escape from.

“i'm just... looking for a cigarette,” fuck, that was such a bad lie. “i couldn't sleep. thought you might have some hidden in these cabinets.”

caleb could only blink at you, his head tilting slowly to the side while his brain tried to process the words. cigarettes? this late? he let out a huff that sounded like a sleepy laugh, rubbing the back of his head where his hair was slightly messy.

“a cigarette...?” he looked from you to the open cabinet drawer, then back up to your face. “you really must have an addiction, huh? i told you earlier, [name], i don't smoke. my grandfather didn't either.”

you had no choice but to nod, keeping your posture stiff against the woodwork. “right. worth a shot, though...”

caleb let out a sigh, the sound long and loose as he shifted his weight on the cushions. he swung his legs out from under the rest of the blanket, his bare feet hitting the timber floor. he stayed there for a second, hunched over with his hands dangling between his knees, just staring at the floor as if waiting for his head to stop spinning from the sudden wake-up.

“look,” his voice drops into a more grounded register while he looked up at you through his bangs. “if you're that restless, i can go to the kitchen and put the kettle on. make you some chamomile tea or something? my dad swears by it for shock.”

“i-i don't need tea,” you muttered, shifting your feet.

but the movement was a mistake. 

the sudden twist of your hips dragged the loose fleece of the sweatpants directly across the gashes on your right thigh. and it fucking stung.

he seemed to have notice it, as his eyes abruptly snapped down to your legs. the sleepiness have also seemed to vanish from his posture by the way his broad shoulders squared when he slid off the couch and stood up. 

“hey,” he gestured vaguely toward your lap. “you're limping again. did you tear the bandages when you got out of bed? you shouldn't even be walking around right now.”

“...they're fine,” 

“they don't look fine,” caleb pointed a thumb back toward the couch. “sit down. let me actually look at them this time. if you bled through the gauze while you were sleeping, we need to change it before it sticks to the cuts.”

your throat felt incredibly dry as you swallowed, your hand lingering on the edge of the cabinet door. “seriously, it really is fine. you don't need to do all this...”

he didn't argue immediately. instead, he simply turned toward the side table where the white first-aid box still sat under the dying light of the hearth. his fingers wrapped around the handle, lifting it with a clack. but as he turned back to face you, he froze, his eyes dropping down to his own chest, then flicking rapidly back up to your face. 

“oh—jesus,” he mumbled, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck. “i... i am so sorry. is it because i don't have a shirt on? let me just... go grab something from the room. give me a second.”

“it's not about that,” you said quickly, the words slipping out before he could turn away. 

am i just losing my mind?

you asked yourself, your fingers gripping the soft flannel of the oversized shirt he’d lent you. is this just the trauma? you had been kidnapped, almost stabbed, and chased through the dark by a literal monster. it made sense that your brain was treating everything—even the creak of a floorboard or a slightly ajar door—as a mortal threat. you were painting a sinister caricature over a guy who had literally dragged you out of the mud, sliced his own knuckles to free your hands, and offered you his bed. if he wanted to hurt you, if he wanted to do anything to you at all... he’d had hours while you were unconscious, dead to the world under his roof. 

but you had woken up untouched.

and yet, that voice in the very back of your skull refused to fully quiet down. stay on guard, it whispered. always stay on guard.

still, the sheer weight of the guilt was starting to make your chest ache. he was trying so hard to be the helpful guy, and you were treating him like the monster in the woods.

with a slow sigh, you crossed the small distance between the cabinet and the couch. 

“fine,” you lowered your weight onto the edge of the cushion. and unceremoniously, you began to pull the hem of the sweatpants up, the fleece dragging against your skin until it bunched up in folds around your upper thighs. the movement exposed the white gauze wraps—now messy, slightly unraveled at the edges, and blooming with wet spots of red where the cuts had split back open from your midnight walk.

caleb stood perfectly still.

as you focused on adjusting the bunched fabric around your lap, you missed the way his breathing hitched. his eyes lingered, carefully, on the exposed line of your ankles, climbing up the curve of your calves, on the skin behind your knees, and finally settling on the wounded skin of your thighs. 

but before you could look up and catch that, he was already moving.

in one motion, caleb lowered himself onto his knees right beside your legs. he popped the latch on the medical kit, fingers pulling out a fresh roll of gauze and a packet of antiseptic wipes with a faint smile. “i hate to say i told you so, [name], but... you did a total hack job on these bandages.”

“i was working with one hand and a lot of adrenaline,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice even while he brushed his fingers against the side of your knee to steady your leg.

“clearly,” he teased, his thumb lightly pressing against your skin to test your reaction, his eyes crinkling at the corners with that playful grin. “you wrapped them up all wrong. it's too loose at the top and too tight at the bottom...”

the crinkle of the wrapper was the only sound for a moment as caleb tore open a fresh pad of gauze, but you kept your face resolutely turned toward the stone hearth, watching the orange embers pulse and die in the ash. 

he didn't say anything for a while, his fingers working with a touch while he peeled away the blood-soaked cotton from your skin. his thumb caught the edge of a fresh strip of medical tape, tearing it with a sharp rip with his teeth.

“you know,” caleb murmured, breaking the quiet without looking up from his work. “you're giving the fireplace a really intense stare. if it's because i'm still missing half my clothes, i can really just go grab a shirt.”

“i'm fine,” though you kept your eyes locked on the brickwork. “i'm just tired.”

he let out a breathy laugh, fingers gently smoothing the edge of the clean white pad against the meat of your upper thigh. “you should've just let me handle the first round of bandages earlier. would've saved you the trouble of bleeding like this.”

you decided not to reply.

and he didn't mind your continued silence, pulling the roll of gauze to tighten the dressing. but as he went to tuck the loose end, his thumb pressed down—just a bit too hard—directly into the swollen edge of the fourth laceration.

“shit, that hurts-” your hands instantly flew to the leather cushion to push yourself backward.

caleb gulped, the prominent line of his throat moving sharply in the dim red light when he stole a glance at your face. “sorry,” he whispered, a little raspy. “you okay?”

“be careful.” you choked out, your breath coming a little faster now as you stared back at him. 

his palm remained resting flat against the curve of your knee, his thumb lightly, almost absently tracing the edge of the sweatpants' hem. he looked down at your legs for a quiet second before his eyes slowly crawled back up to meet your frown.

“is this your first time?” 

your brow furrowed deeper, “what?”

“seeing a guy half-naked this close,” caleb clarified, a knowing smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained perfectly steady and unblinking. “you look like you're holding your breath, [name]. i didn't think i was that intimidating...?”

“no, it's not my first time.” 

“oh yeah?” 

caleb tilted his head, his elbow resting on his knee to lean in further. “so there's been other guys then? past boyfriends?”

“...what does that have to do with anything?”

“nothing,” letting out a low chuckle, he finally pulled his hands back, capping the antiseptic bottle along the way. “just making conversation. we're catching up, aren't we? five years is ...a long time. i figured a girl like you would've had someone.”

caleb slowly sat back on his heels, eyes tracking the way your fingers dug into the fabric of your flannel shirt. 

“there was... someone,” you muttered, wanting to shut the topic down. “a while ago. it didn't last.”

“really?” his voice carried a strange satisfaction as he picked up the discarded bandages. he didn't look disappointed at all. in fact, his shoulders seemed to loosen even more. “why's that? he didn't know how to appreciate what he had?”

“he was just too much, too possessive. always wanted to know where i was.”

caleb stopped moving for a split second, his back to the fire. “hmm, can you really blame him?”

“yes, you can blame him.” you reached down, your fingers catching the hem of the grey sweatpants to slide the heavy fleece back down over your calves. “how would you feel if you had a partner like that? someone constantly demanding to know every single person you talk to?”

caleb stared up at you from beneath his fringes.

“i don't-” a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head accompanied the words. “i don't think i'd mind it at all.”

you let out a humorless click of your tongue, pulling the fabric down past your ankles. “you're just saying that because you've never actually experienced it.”

caleb simply laughs, “well... you've got me there, [name]. i guess i haven't really had the chance to be in a relationship yet.”

that caught your attention. 

“really? in five years? i remember girls in high school lining up to slide letters into your locker. you're telling me you never got into anything like that?”

“never,” he snapped the lid of the medical kit shut. “a few talking stages that fizzled out after a couple of weeks, maybe a blind date or two that my friends dragged me into because they felt sorry for me. but nothing too close. nothing that lasted.”

“that's pretty hard to believe.” 

caleb xia was the definition of the golden boy back then, as far as you could remember—approachable, attractive, naturally charismatic, and the exact type of guy most people wanted to take home to their parents. it didn't make sense that he was so utterly single. “what could possibly be the reason? are your standards just impossibly high or something?”

caleb stood up from the floor, lifting the medical kit in one hand. but instead of walking away to put it back on the side table, he stayed right there, standing over you in the dim glow of the hearth.

“hey, my standards aren't high at all, i think i'm actually pretty simple. when i find something- or someone- that actually catches my attention, i tend to, just, keep my focus entirely on them. i don't see the point in looking anywhere else if... if- the perfect thing is already right in front of me.” he tears his gaze away to put the first-aid back into its place.

“well, good luck finding that in the city. people change their minds every two weeks out there.” goddamn it, the pain below is really getting unbearable. you were far too focused on the throbbing ache in your thighs, your brain already drifting back to the logistics of tomorrow morning's drive to the police precinct. 

“maybe... but luckily for me, i'm a very patient guy. i don't mind waiting for- for a long time.” you hear him murmur. with his back faced to you like this, you can't really help yourself but trace the beautiful definition of his back muscles with your eyes, and the ridiculous ratio of his broad shoulders down to his waist. 

with that physique, he might be a liar, he definitely have some situationships going on.

caleb suddenly turns around to meet your eyes, making you instinctively avert them. “you still want that tea?”

“no thanks, i'm really... fine 'nough now.”

“i see. well, i think you probably couldn't sleep back there because of the cold,” he walked towards the hearth to throw more logs into the pit. only now you realized how dim the room had been getting when the fire crackled back into its fiery light. “you need the warmth here in the living room, no?”

you sheepishly smile. “would that be okay?”

“of course, [name].”

—

“you're kidding me.”

under the sun through the acacia trees, you squinted your eyes. 

the words didn't even have the energy to carry a real edge. they just fell out of your mouth, evaporating into the cold morning mist that hung thick between the towering leaves.

meanwhile, caleb didn't bother looking up from under the rusted hood of his dark blue pickup truck. he was hunched over the engine bay, the fabric of a sleeveless hoodie stretched tight across his shoulders. his hands, grease-stained and calloused, were buried deep near the battery terminal with a wrench catching the daylight.

“i wish i was, not gonna lie.” caleb muttered, his voice muffled by the metal hood. he let out a frustrated sigh that blossomed into a little puff of white steam in the damp air. “i've tried priming the pump, i've checked the spark plugs... nothing. the starter won't even click.”

you had woken up with a spark of renewed relief in your chest, because finally, finally, you can go back to where you feel the most safe, you can finally report whatever bullshit that happened to you yesterday. 

but instead, you were met with an apologetic boy trying to fix his truck because, apparently, the engine decided to end its own life overnight. 

“how does a truck that was running fine yesterday just die overnight, caleb?” you walked closer, your knuckles white as you shoved your hands deep into the pockets of the flannel shirt. 

he finally pulled his head out from under the hood, wiping a thick smear of black grease across his forehead with the back of his forearm. he looked at you through his messy fringes, and you caught the way his eyes looked a little bit too... puppy-like. 

“the storm,” caleb vaguely gestured. 

the ground was completely saturated, littered with fallen leaves and broken branches from the torrential downpour that had finally died down to a drizzle just before dawn. “with this much humidity and the drop in temperature, moisture probably got into the distributor cap. or a wire shorted out. these old engines are finicky as hell, [name]. i'm sorry.”

you stared at the truck, your jaw locked so tight it made your temples throb. 

a miracle. 

a perfect little miracle for a guy who had just told you last night how much he loved precise systems where nothing was left to variable.

“...i can't stay here,” you insisted, your voice rising just a fraction. “my family is probably contacting the police right now. and my manager... caleb, they're going to think i'm dead. i need to get to a phone. i need to get to the highway.”

“i know that.” he replied, stepping away from the bumper. “i know you do. but, we can't drive this thing until i figure out what's wrong with the ignition.”

“then i'll walk.”

caleb’s hand froze mid-air as he went to wipe his wrench with an old rag. his dark eyes narrowed. “walk? [name], you can barely take three steps without a limp.”

“i don't care. you have a map, or- or a compass. i know you do- this is a hunting cabin after all.”

“no.”

“what?”

caleb tossed the wrench onto the truck's battery cover with a clank that made you jump. “it's not just about the distance,” he took two steps toward you, his large frame instantly blocking out the morning light. “the highway is nearly seven miles from here, and there are ravines out there that are flooded right now from the storm. one bad slip and you'll tear those stitches wide open, and then you're bleeding out in the mud with nobody to help you.”

“i'll take my chances.” you muttered.

caleb raised a brow. “and what about the man with the knife, [name]? he could be sitting behind a tree just half a mile from here, waiting for you to walk right back into his arms. do you really want to risk that?”

your fingers curled into the rough cotton of his top, the cold reality of his words settling into your stomach like a block of ice.

he had a point. 

a terrifying, undeniable point. the monster was probably still out there.

“it's better to be safe,” caleb murmured, his tone softening back into that sweet cadence. “i'm not trying to keep you prisoner here, i swear. i want to get you home just as much as you want to go. but you have to trust me on this. it'll take me a few hours, maybe 'till noon.” he turns back to the hood of the truck with a frustrated frown. “just go back inside and let me do my job. okay?”

you let out a trembling sigh, looking away from his face to stare at the woods surrounding the clearing. you hated the situation. you hated how logical his arguments were, and you hated the warmth where his eyes had just been.

“fine,” you whispered, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “just... hurry up, please.”

“i will, promise.” 

you went back inside.

hours had bled away into the sluggish afternoon, and you had done nothing but count the knots in the pine ceiling and flip through the moldering pages of three-decade-old hunting manuals you found in the dusty cabinets. 

they got you nowhere. 

no phone numbers scribbled in the margins, no hidden emergency radios, no secret landlines. just instructions on how to field-dress a deer and diagrams of traps.

it was past two in the afternoon now. and this was getting ridiculous.

you paced the creaking floorboards of the living room, your bare toes digging into the cold grain of the wood. through the window pane, you watched caleb. he was still out there. his sleeveless hoodie was damp from the mist, broad back bent over the open hood of the truck with a disciplined concentration that should have been comforting. 

he looked like a saint, honestly. a boy working himself to the bone in the cold just to get an old classmate back to safety.

but the timing was too perfect. the dead engine was too convenient. and you couldn't afford to spend another night here, isolated in the middle of nowhere, wrapped in his clothes and eating his food.

your eyes drifted from the window, turning slowly toward the hallway.

there was a second door down there. it sat right beside the bedroom he had given you last night—a wooden door with no brass lock on the outside, completely quiet and unassuming. but it had been poking at the back of your mind since you woke up. and for some reason, a hum of intuition told you that behind that specific piece of wood lay the missing piece of the puzzle.

you glanced back out the window to see caleb having his back turned, and reaching for a socket wrench from his toolbox.

quietly, holding your breath until your lungs burned, you padded down the hallway. the floorboards seemed to hold their breath with you, refusing to creak just as you stopped in front of the door, your hand hovering over the cold brass knob. 

until, eventually, you stopped hesitating and twisted it. 

it wasn't locked. 

with an agonizingly slow click, the latch gave way, and the door swung inward.

you stepped inside, ready to find a dusty storage closet or a pile of old lumber. 

instead,

the room was... dark, the only light filtering through a heavy black curtain drawn tight over the single window, but it was enough to reveal a space that looked less like a cabin bedroom and more like the inside of an... obsessively structured mind.

you didn't know why, but your legs felt suddenly weak, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead as you stepped deeper into the gloom. the walls weren't bare wood. they were covered in large corkboards, maps of the county and hand-drawn diagrams. and in the center of the main board, pinned with color-coded pushpins, was you.

it was a photo from your high school yearbook, your smiling face circled in faded red ink. but next to it were newer photos, candid shots. 

you walking to the vintage restaurant. 

you holding a trash bag in the alley behind the kitchen, captured from the treeline. 

you sitting by the register.

then, scrawled beneath the photos in a precise draftsman's print—the hand of an engineer—were pages of notes.

> [name]'s shift: 9:00 AM - 4:00 PM

> route predictability: 94%

> vulnerability point: rear kitchen exit (blind spot from highway)

your hands began to tremble so violently you had to press them against your thighs to keep them still. your eyes darted across the board, picking apart the timeline he had constructed. there were outlines of schedules, maps of these very woods with red ink tracing the exact path you had run last night. there was even a drawing of a leather passenger seat with a detailed list of strap measurements.

so, he hadn't really saved you...? 

your eyes swept to another section of the wall, where photos of other people were pinned—friends you used to know, people you were still connected with in the city, and even your ex boyfriend. across his face, a line had been drawn in black marker, with a note written beside it: easily removed.

your brain screamed at you to run, to get out, to lock yourself away. but your eyes were drawn to the far corner of the room, where a smaller, shadow-draped board hung.

you took three slow steps toward it.

there were no yearbook photos there, there were polaroids instead. raw and flash-lit pictures of coldly pale skin, bloodshot eyes staring at nothing, and wet earth. 

dead bodies. 

people who had gone missing from the county over the last few years, their faces preserved in caleb's organized archive.

“what the fuck—...”

you stumbled backward, your heel catching on the edge of a small wooden stool. it caused you to hit the floorboards hard, the jarring impact sending a fresh flare of agony through your wounded thighs, but you barely felt it. you scrambled back on your hands and knees, your palms smacking against the cold wood as you frantically covered your mouth with both hands to choke back the sob of pure terror rising in your chest.

what the fuck is this? 

what the fuck did he do?

don’t scream. if you scream, he’ll know exactly how much of his little theater you’ve torn apart.

there was no time to feel the dizzying slide of panic in your veins. your body, now operating on a raw survival code, simply forced you up. you scrambled off the floorboards of that room, your numb fingers catching the edge of the doorframe to drag yourself out. and immediately, you pulled the wooden door shut behind you.

you stood in the hallway, your chest heaving in ragged hitches, your hands pressed flat against your ribs to keep your heart from bursting out of your skin. calm down. calm down. if you pass out now, you're dead.

you gulped down the air of the hallway, forcing your legs to carry you back to the living room. you limped to the windowpane, your fingertips pressing against the cold glass as you peered out into the misty clearing.

the truck hood was still open. the wrench was resting on the battery.

but caleb was gone.

shit. 

shit, where is he?

a cold prickling wave of dread washed down the back of your neck, and you abruptly turned around—

and there he was.

caleb was leaning casually against the laminate kitchen counter, holding a clear glass of water and slowly drinking from it. his violet eyes watched you over the rim, perfectly still, perfectly calm, tracking the frantic movement of your shoulders. he then lowered the glass, setting it down on the counter with a hollow thud, before using the back of his hand to wipe a stray drop of moisture from his chin.

“what's wrong?” he asked, a sweet smile touching the corners of his mouth. “why do you look so pale, [name]?”

you couldn't even bring yourself to answer. 

is he... is he the one with the mask? 

no, it didn't make sense. you had bitten the masked man's sleeve, you had wedged your knee into his chest, you had run while caleb found you. but the room... the photos of you and your friends with a black line through their face... the dead bodies...

it was an orchestration, wasn't it? 

a sick, meticulously trap designed to drop you right into his waiting arms. and he was playing the savior so perfectly. 

this sick bitch.

caleb's brow furrowed, his expression changing into a soft look of pure concern. “hey, are you alright?”

he looked so soft. he looked like the kind of boy you could rely on when the world was falling apart. it was disgusting. it was terrifying.

your eyes darted wildly around the room. a weapon. i need a weapon right now. your gaze flicked to the fireplace tools—the heavy iron poker—but it was too far. you looked to the kitchen counter, but caleb was blocking the knives. you were trapped.

caleb’s brow raised slightly, his tone softening even more. “are you hurt? did the wounds on your thighs start bothering you again? let me see, i can—”

“stay back!” you screamed, the sound tearing out of your throat, raw and jagged. you pressed your back hard against the wall near the window. “i'm getting out of this house! don't you dare come near me! stay the fuck back!”

caleb stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in what looked like genuine fear. the sudden outburst actually seemed to startle him. he quickly raised both of his hands in front of his chest, palms open and facing you in a classic gesture of surrender.

“whoa—whoa, [name], okay! easy,” he stammered, his voice trembling slightly as if your anger was physically hurting him. the safe-boy mask was still pinned so perfectly to his face. “i’m not coming closer. i swear. please, just breathe. the engine... i’m almost done fixing it, okay? just ten more minutes. please, just sit down, calm down, and let me make you some tea—"

you didn't let him finish.

you didn't care about his hands, or his voice, or the pathetic, frightened look in his eyes. you just lunged toward the front door, your feet slipping slightly on the timber—

“don't open that fucking door, [name].”

you stopped.

the hand you had stretched toward the brass deadbolt froze, hovering barely an inch from the metal. you couldn't move. your feet felt as though they had been poured into the floor, rooted by a sudden paralyzing instinct that warned you any sudden movement would end in violence. you didn't look back at him. you couldn't bring yourself to face whatever had just taken the place of the guy that had been so good to you.

then, you heard him sigh. 

it wasn't the frustrated breath of a man losing his temper, but an almost endearing sound, like a parent watching a child refuse to eat their dinner. the scuff of his socks against the wood started up again, drawing closer and closer.

“i'm sorry...” 

another step closer.

“you just... you've been acting so off since this morning, [name]. why won't you just trust me?”

the hypocrisy of it reeked. 

you didn't move as he stepped into your space. the heat of his chest pressed nearly against your back, casting his shadow completely over the door. slowly, his hand reached around your face, fingers remarkably steady while they caught the edge of your jaw, gently but firmly lifting your chin. his skin was hot against your cold face. and with his other hand, he reached past your shoulder, his fingers intentionally wrapping around the brass handle of the door.

your breath hitched.

god, what do i do?

your mind scrambled and dug into the walls of your brain, fighting to find a way out. you couldn't fight him—not with your legs this torn up, not in his territory. if you ran, he’d track you down in the timber in minutes. if you screamed, no one would hear you. so...

the only way out was to play the game. 

you had to dismantle him from the inside, lower his guard, and make him believe his perfect plan was working exactly as planned.

you gulped, forcing the frantic rhythm of your chest to slow down, forcing your hands to uncurl. then, slowly, you turned your head to meet caleb's questioning gaze.

his face was so close, eyes wide and looking down at you with a searching innocence that made your stomach twist with revulsion. he looked like he genuinely cared. he looked like he was waiting for you to tell him it was all just a bad dream.

“i...” 

you looked at his lips, then back up to his eyes. 

“i found it.”

caleb’s brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly to the side as his fingers finally removed themselves from your chin. “found what, [name]?”

“the... the pictures,” you whispered, letting your gaze drop to his chest, then slowly rise back to his face, just to make sure your eyes looked warm and convincing enough. “in that room. i... i found everything, caleb.”

the wind outside seemed to die down, leaving only the sound of your own breathing.

you just hoped to yourself that whatever it is you were planning would also work as perfectly as caleb's did. otherwise, the universe would be a sick, unfair thing.

caleb just blinked down at you, and you couldn't seem to figure out what look he had on his face. his eyes, reflecting the dim light of the cabin, stared into yours without a single shred of readable emotion. it was like looking into a pair of deep wells.

he smiled, then.

a screeping tilt of his mouth that crinkled the edges of his eyes, blooming into a face of what seemed like euphoric disbelief.

“you found them?”

“yes,” you forced a shaky laugh to escape your lips, playing the part of the girl who had finally found her savior. “and i... i just wish you would've told me sooner, b-because... i've been waiting.” you gulped. “i've been waiting for you, too.”

caleb put on a frown. “really? you... you aren't disgusted? you accept me?”

you swallowed hard, nodding your head. “yes, i accept you.”

“even if i've been plotting this since high school, [name]?”

“even then,” you whispered, nodding again.

“even if it took me this long to finally find the courage to speak to you?”

“yes.”

“even if...” you watched the way his eyes narrowed, lingering just right below your neck. “i killed people for you?”

your stomach did a sickening flip, but you forced your expression to remain compliant. “even then.”

“even if it thrilled me when i cut your thighs?”

when i cut your thighs...?

so the man in the car... the monster with the knife...

it really was him.

but how? where was the car he had used? how had he chased you through the mud, sliced your legs, and then somehow circled back to “find” you and carry you to his cabin without a single drop of mud on his clothes? how had he flawlessly executed a sequence that should have been physically impossible? and if he was this dead-obsessed with you—if he had built a literal shrine to your existence in his spare room—why would he hurt you? why would he carve into your flesh?

is he really that fucked in the head? 

he wasn't just an obsessive stalker. he was a sadist. a monster who needed to break you, to bleed you, just so he could be the one to stitch you back together and play the hero.

you had to answer. you had to.

forcing your eyes to soften, forcing the horror back into the darkest corners of your mind, you let out a trembling sigh. 

“yes.” 

the shuddering breath that left caleb’s chest was shaky, thick with an almost pathetic relief. 

he let his eyes slip shut, his shoulders finally dropping when he leaned forward to rest his forehead directly against yours. it's like he left only the boy who looked entirely drunk on your submission.

only now you realized that his fingers were already on your neck, sliding up to tangle into the strands of your hair and cradling your head like a piece of porcelain. “such a pretty, pretty little thing... i knew you'd understand. i knew it had to be you.”

but behind your closed eyes, your mind was nothing but a machine. you gulped, the sensation of his hand on your throat still making your skin crawl, but you forced your pulse to steady. keep it together. you needed to break this stalemate. you couldn't stay in this cabin for another hour, let alone another night. if you kept playing the passive victim, he would keep you here forever.

you needed him weak. you needed him distracted, his guard completely shattered, so you could find an opening, grab whatever heavy object was closest, and run.

and the fastest way to blind a boy like caleb was to give him exactly what he’d been dreaming about since high school.

without saying a word, you reached up, your fingers wrapping slowly around the side of his jaw. 

caleb perked up instantly. 

his eyes snapped open, pupils blown so wide they almost swallowed the deep purple of his irises. he looked down at you with a breathless, desperate anticipation—like a stray puppy waiting for a hand to finally feed it.

and then, dreadfully, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his.

it's the perfect distraction, and–

you had experience. you knew the rhythm of it, how to tilt your head, how to apply just enough pressure to make a man lose his focus. but caleb was an entirely different story.

the moment your lips met his, his entire body went rigid. for a split second, he didn't even seem to know how to breathe, his lips dry and unmoving against yours as if the sheer shock of the contact had short-circuited his brain. it was the kiss of a boy who had never done this before—clumsy, hesitant, and utterly terrified of breaking the illusion.

but the innocence didn't last.

“mhmm—” 

as the realization of what was happening finally sank into his brain, caleb got completely carried away. another needy groan vibrated deep in his throat—a desperate sound that echoed in the cabin. before you could even pull away, his large hand slid down from your neck, arms wrapping tightly around your waist like iron bands.

and with a sudden tug, he pulled you backward. his bare thighs hit the armrest of the nearby couch, and he sank onto it, dragging you with him until you were standing flush between his knees.

he didn't let go of your mouth for a single second. the kisses became heavier, deeper, and uncomfortably loud as his lips parted against yours. a deep frown was etched across his brow, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as if he were trying to force himself to wake up from a dream he couldn't quite comprehend. 

the sound of his mouth against yours suddenly cut off as caleb pulled back. he didn't go far—just a fraction of an inch, just enough for the cold draft of the cabin to rush between your lips, leaving them chilled and slick. his chest was heaving, torso expanding and contracting in heavy hitches while he stared directly into your eyes. 

from this close, the bruised purple of his pupils looked almost black, dilated so wide that the iris was nearly gone.

slowly, a cruel smirk carved its way across his mouth.

“you're good,” caleb whispered, his voice a low vibration that brushed against your wet lips.

“you're really, really good, [name]. but i'm not an easy guy to fool.”

your hands, still resting against the sides of his neck, went cold.

“you saw everything. of course you're terrified of me.” his smirk widened, and his fingers tightened around your hips. “you even wanted to run out that door the second you realized what i did. so... what are you kissing me for, huh?”

your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching in your throat. he knows. the universe was indeed a sick, unfair thing, but you should have expected this. as irreversibly sick in the head as caleb xia was, he wasn't stupid. he was an engineer. he spent his life calculating variables, measuring tolerances, and anticipating failure points. of course he had planned for the possibility of you trying to manipulate him.

you couldn't speak. your tongue felt like lead in your mouth as you simply stared at him, the carefully crafted mask of compliance slipping away to reveal the terror underneath.

seeing the fear finally return to your face, caleb let out an amused sigh. he pulled back a bit more, putting a physical distance between your faces, though he remained sitting on the armrest with you standing locked between his knees. deliberately, his hands slid off your hips, his arms dropping to his sides in a gesture that looked mockingly like surrender.

“if you're really that scared of me... then go. run away. the door is right there.”

he nodded toward the exit behind you.

it felt too good to be true. it was a trap—it had to be. but as you stared at the brass deadbolt just feet away, your survival instinct screamed at you that staying here, trapped between his knees, was a guaranteed death sentence. it would be incredibly stupid not to take a chance in a desperate situation like this. if you could just get the door open, if you could just reach the misty treeline...

you inhaled a sharp breath, gathering every ounce of strength left in your aching thighs.

then, you turned on your heel and lunged for the door.

but you didn't even make it a single step.

before your foot could fully plant on the floor, caleb’s hand abruptly wrapped around your upper arm like a steel cuff. and with a violent surge of strength, he tugged you harshly backward. the world instantly spun in a blur of gray as your feet lost their grip, and your body was slammed hard down onto the cushions of the couch. 

“ah—!”

and before you knew it, caleb was already over you.

it was indeed too good to be true. 

his frame completely pinned you into the deep cushions, blocking out the light, the room, and the air. and immediately, as if afraid that he might also lose a chance, his mouth was already devouring yours from above.

it wasn't the clumsy kiss of a boy anymore. it was a rabid, starving thing. he pinned your wrists to the couch on either side of your head, his calloused hands locking over your joints with a crushing force that left no room for struggle. you writhed beneath him, trying to turn your head away, trying to keep your neck angled high to escape the suffocating heat of his face, but he simply used his weight to hold you down, lapping at your mouth, his lips parting yours with a wild hunger.

“god— hmm...” he was kissing you as if he were trying to pull the very breath out of your lungs, his head tilting from side to side to drink you in deeper, harder, completely losing himself in the taste of you.

finally.

that was the only word echoing through the hollow spaces of his head as he crushed your body beneath his. finally.

your fingers, pinned flat against the couch, twitched helplessly beneath the crushing weight of his palms. you tried to keep up. you tried to keep your head above, trying to maintain the distance that had kept you alive since last night. but the overwhelming reality of him was starting to dissolve the boundaries of your own mind.

why were you keeping up? 

all of this, all of it—it was a visceral assault on your senses. it felt gross. it felt incredibly, deeply gross to be the literal centerpiece of a sick years-long blueprint, to have your body subjected to the whims of his twisted fantasies. but as his weight settled more heavily beside your thighs, pinning you down until you couldn't move an inch...

it felt... good?

it felt good.

you found yourself ghost-blinking, your vision swimming as a sudden feverish warmth crawled up from your chest, flooding your throat and burning across your cheeks, before pooling into an ache in your lower body. you were completely paralyzed by it, caught in a terrifying tug-of-war between your survival instincts and a thrill you had never felt before. but you didn't dare kiss him back. you kept your lips stiff, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response, even as your body betrayed you.

caleb, still lapping hungrily at your mouth, finally and unwillingly began to pull away.

the transition was painfully slow, his lips dragging against yours with a heavy reluctance. as he lifted his head just a few inches, a glistening string of saliva stretched between your parted lips, bridging the tiny gap between you before it finally snapped.

your chest hitched. 

the sight of it made a burning blush erupt across your face. you couldn't explain it to yourself. you didn't know how to place the sudden, wild drumming of your pulse. it felt like discovering a hidden corridor inside your own house, a door you had never known existed, and you had absolutely no idea what to do with the monster waiting inside it.

above you, caleb stared down. his eyes narrowed, glassy, and wild, like a lovesick dog that had finally been thrown a scrap of meat but was still starving for the whole meal.

his fingers tightened around your wrists with a sudden bruising force, pinning your arms so hard against the leather you could feel the pulse in his own palms hammering against your skin. 

“i didn't do any of this to hurt you, [name],” he whispered frantically, eyes scanning your face, searching for any sign of comprehension in your gaze. “you have to believe me. you have to understand. i've been so quiet for so long. for five years- five years of watching you from afar, watching you walk home, watching other people take your time, watching them treat you like you were just... normal.” a breathless laugh escaped his lips. “like you weren't the center of the fucking universe.”

his forehead dropped for a split second to press against yours, closing his eyes shut.

“the people who tried to touch you, the ones who thought they had a right to you—” then, he opens his eyes ajar, pulling away just an inch. “i had to clear them out. i had to. because no one else could love you like this. no one else would go this far for you, [name].” 

he gulps, letting out a small grunt. “no one.”

his grip on your wrists tightened even more, the bones of your hands aching under his hold, but his expression was so incredibly, terrifyingly soft. 

“tell me you understand that. please. tell me you see it now.”

he didn't look away, he couldn't. his entire body trembled with the weight of his own confession, desperately waiting for you to say something. to curse him, to scream, to agree—anything.

but you remained flush beneath his grip.

you lay there, pinned to the couch. the words washed over you in a dizzying wave, but you couldn't process a single one. you couldn't think. you couldn't move. you could only listen to the rhythmic beating of your heart against your chest. only that. 

caleb watched the rise and fall of your chest, tracking the silent rhythm of your breath as you lay trapped beneath him. you weren't screaming. you weren't trying to tear your wrists from his fingers anymore.

a drop of satisfaction settled into his features. to a mind as twisted as his, the absence of a fight wasn't fear—it was an invitation. it was consent.

slowly, his gaze drifted away from your face. his eyes traveled down the column of your throat, sliding past the open collar of his oversized flannel shirt, before tracking the line of your torso. and finally, his eyes landed specifically on your thighs.

even beneath the sweatpants, the muscles in your legs were locked rigid, your knees pressing together so tightly that the fabric was bunched and strained between your joints.

caleb raised a single brow. his eyes flicked from your locked knees back up to your face.

fuck.

the warmth that had pooled in your lower body was a physical weight now, and the fact that he was actively studying it made a sudden surge of panic flare up in your chest.

“let go,” you choked out, twisting your hips and jerking your wrists in a frantic effort to hide yourself from his stare. 

his palms remained locked over your wrists like iron clamps, while he just watched your struggles with a curiosity, his head tilting slightly. “why are you doing that?” 

you stopped twisting, your teeth clicking together as your glare turned into a frown. “doing what?”

then, without warning, the suffocating weight above you vanished.

caleb simply let go of your wrists. he rose from the couch in one motion, his bare feet hitting the timber floor without a sound. 

he turned his gaze entirely toward the front door. and when he turned his face back toward the couch, the sadist from a second ago was gone. his eyes were bright, his face soft, and that sweet, reliable smile was pinned neatly across his lips. “the engine is finally fixed. the moisture cleared out of the distributor cap while we were... catching up.”

you sat up slowly, your elbows trembling as you propped your weight up on the cushions. what the actual fuck?

“i can drive you home now,” caleb continued, walking over to the side table to pick up his truck keys. “or the police precinct. or anywhere else you want to go. let's get you sorted out, yeah?”

you just stared at him, completely bewildered, your brain grinding to a screeching halt. he couldn't just do this. he couldn't build a literal shrine to you, kiss you like that, pin you to a couch until you were wrecked, and then just pull back and offer to take you to a drive-thru the next second. it was insane. the sheer whiplash-inducing absurdity of his behavior was breaking your ability to process the situation.

caleb turned on his heel, turning his back to you as he took two easy strides toward the wooden exit.

fuck it.

your survival instinct was screaming at you to just let him open the door, to get into the truck and never look back, but the chaos of the entire afternoon had pushed you past the breaking point.

“caleb,” you called out.

he paused, his hand hovering just inches away from the door handle. smiling, he turned his head back over his shoulder.

“hmm?”

“what are you doing?” 

caleb fully turned his body away from the door, his hand dropping loosely to his side with the truck keys giving a jingle in his palm. “what do you mean?” 

a spike of frustration flared up in your chest, mixing dangerously with the adrenaline still lingering in your veins. what was he trying to pull? did this look like a joke to him? the absolute whiplash of his behavior—switching from a dead-obsessed guy on top of you to a polite, helpful one in the span of thirty seconds—was maddening. 

you took a slow breath, your fingers digging into the cushion of the couch. “replace the bandages,” you told him. “before we go anywhere. they're bleeding again.”

caleb blinked at you, a momentary flash of surprise crossing his features, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. 

“of course,” he murmured, setting the keys down on the kitchen counter. “give me a second.”

minutes later, the quiet of the cabin was broken only by the pop of the first-aid box latches. you sat on the edge of the couch, your spine rigid, watching caleb lowering himself onto one knee on the floor directly in front of you. he was focused, broad shoulders hunched forward while he neatly laid out the fresh rolls of gauze, the medical tape, and a packet of antiseptic wipes onto the small wooden coffee table.

you pursed your lips inward, your fingers reaching down to the elastic waistband of the grey sweatpants, preparing to roll the heavy fleece back up your thighs.

“actually,” caleb said, without looking up from his neat arrangement of the medical supplies. “take them off this time.”

your fingers froze against the fabric.

“the blood's probably soaked through to the inner lining by now,” he explained, before he lifted his eyes to meet yours through his bangs. “if you keep them on, the fabric's just going to rub against the fresh dressing while i'm driving. i'll just grab you a new pair of pants from my room before we walk out.”

you hesitated for a long, heavy second. every sensible instinct in your brain told you to refuse, to maintain whatever boundary you had left. but there was something else shifting beneath the surface—a pull of submission, a curiosity that quietly nudged you to just see how far this would go.

keeping your eyes locked on his face, your hands gripped the waistband. you slid the fleece down past your hips, down your thighs, and kicked the sweatpants away, leaving your legs bare, covered in nothing but your underwear.

but caleb didn't look.

he didn't lean in, he didn't smirk, and his eyes didn't wander down the exposed line of your hips. instead, he kept his gaze entirely focused on the task at hand, his fingers moving with a careful discipline as he reached out and gently peeled back the blood-stained cotton from your torn skin.

“sorry,” his thumb lightly brushed the undamaged skin just above the laceration to steady his hand. “sorry about these.”

even with the pants gone, you couldn't help it—your knees were still locked together, your inner thighs pressing flush against each other in an instinctive attempt to hide the dampness ruined into your underwear.

with a fresh roll of gauze held between his fingers, caleb looked up at you from his knee on the floor. his expression was entirely too innocent, brow tilting up with that infuriatingly boyish look.

“if you keep pressing your legs together like that, i won't be able to wrap the tension properly. they're just going to split again.” he let out a quiet chuckle. “come on. relax for a second.”

the audacity of the sound made your jaw tighten. you didn't know what was happening to you anymore. the logic of the world had unraveled within the span of an hour. you knew who he was now; you knew what lay behind that closed door down the hall. you should have been frozen in pure, unadulterated terror. you should have been vomiting from the revulsion of sitting naked in front of a monster.

but you weren't. 

instead, that heat was turning into a literal ache between your hips. your pulse was hammering directly into the cushion beneath you, your skin hyper-aware of the cool air traveling over your bare skin. why are you like this? why do you want him to do something?

with a gulp, you slowly let your muscles give way.

you spread your legs just an inch or two, exposing the wet patch blooming right through the center of your cotton panties.

caleb’s eyes dropped down.

he stared at the damp fabric for one long, unblinking second, but he just wordlessly forced his gaze back down to the lacerations on your right thigh, his throat moving as he swallowed hard. his hands became incredibly precise, almost stiff, as he rapidly laid the clean pad down and began winding the white gauze around your leg, securing it with three tight strips of medical tape.

once the final piece of tape was smoothed down against your skin, caleb didn't linger. he immediately picked up the discarded wrappers, dropping them into the white first-aid box and snapping the latches shut.

you blinked, the sudden withdrawal leaving you feeling strangely hollow. trying to shake the dizzying fog from your head, you leaned forward, your fingers reaching toward the floor to grab the discarded sweatpants.

“are you just going to leave it like that?”

caleb’s voice cut through the room, low and raspy. 

your hand froze on the fleece.

then, you looked up. he was still kneeling between your feet, his hands resting flat against his own knees. 

“do you want to take care of that too before we go?” he had asked.

the question left you staring at him, bewildered, with your mouth parting slightly. you felt yourself grow even wetter, the cotton clinging miserably to your skin as the ache intensified.

caleb didn't wait for a verbal answer, because your reaction was written entirely across your burning face.

he stared at you for one more second, and then, his hands reached forward, fingers wrapped firmly around the insides of your knees. with an unyielding pressure, he pushed his arms outward, spreading your legs even wider, just to leave you open and exposed to him.

he kept his dilated eyes locked directly onto yours from below, his mouth curving into a small smile. “i guess that makes the two of us, then.”

his thumbs swept slowly across your skin, tracing burning circles right over the edges of the fresh white bandages, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“you're shaking,” the contrast was dizzying—the innocent smile still pinned to his face while his pupils were dilated so wide they looked like pools of leaked ink. “is it because it's cold in here, [name]? or is it because you're finally realizing you belong right here?”

“shut up.” you choked out, your knuckles turning white as you dug your fingernails into the cushions beneath you. your brain was screaming at you, a siren warning you that this was the man who had carved into your flesh, the monster who had mapped out your entire life on a corkboard down the hall. 

but your body was operating on an entirely different command. the dampness between your legs had soaked through the cotton, and the cool air of the cabin rushing over your exposed skin made the ache unbearable.

caleb let out an amused hum, the sound vibrating against your bare knees as he slowly lowered his head. he leaned in close to your right leg, his warm breath fanning across your skin a second before his lips pressed down against your inner thigh.

god.

the kiss was slow, heavy, and searingly hot. he dragged his mouth upward, his lips parting slightly as he nipped at the soft skin just an inch away from the white gauze wrap. you let out an involuntary gasp, your hips jerking slightly against the couch.

“caleb—stop—” the protest was weak, entirely devoid of any real force.

“can't do that,” he whispered against your skin. “you're too wet, [name]. it's messy. let me clean it up for you.”

he shifted, dropping fully to both knees between your feet while his hands slid up from your knees, his palms flattening against the outsides of your hips, anchoring you into the cushions so firmly you couldn't move an inch even if you tried. he looked up at you one last time, a lovesick gaze taking over his features before he bent his head down completely.

his nose nudged the edge of your panties, pushing the damp cotton aside with a single finger until he found you.

when his tongue first made contact, a broken sob immediately tore right out of your throat.

“hngh-!”

it was slow. agonizingly slow. caleb wasn't rushing to finish, it was like he was testing you, studying the way your breath hitched, measuring just how much you resisted him. his tongue was broad, hot, and thick as he swiped it upward, tracing the sensitive length of your clit with his mouth. it made your toes curl inside his wool socks, your back arching off the couch.

“you can't... just...” your logic was losing the war, shattering into pieces under the heat of his mouth.

caleb let out a rumble of satisfaction against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh. he began to pick up the pace, his tongue lapping at you hungrily and drinking in the sweet taste of your cunt with an uncomfortably loud sucking. 

he was testing himself too, learning the exact angles that made you writhe, the specific way that made your breathing turn into desperate pants. every time you tried to pull away, tried to reassemble the logic that told you he was dangerous, he would use his tongue to push you right back over the edge, lapping you down from below until you were helpless under his control.

“you taste so good,” he gasped out, pulling away for a mere fraction of a second, his lips shiny and wet in the dim light before he buried his face right back between your thighs. “so perfect. i knew you would. i knew it.”

the heat between your thighs suddenly vanished, leaving the sensitive skin tingling and cold against the drafty air of the cabin. you let out a whine, your head tossing against the cushion as you blinked through the dizzying haze of pleasure.

but caleb didn't give you room to breathe.

he crawled up your body like a shadow, his large frame blocking out the rest of the room as he pinned you back down into the couch. he was panting, his purple eyes fixed on your face with a rabid hunger.

“you're... so loud for me, [name],” he rasped, his voice a deep, gravelly vibration that brushed against your burning cheek. “i love it. i love hearing what i do to you.”

before you could even gather the breath to respond, his hands slid up your torso, his fingers hooking into the front of the oversized flannel shirt. with one tug, he parted the fabric to bare your chest to the cool air and his scorching gaze. your breath hitched sharply as his eyes locked onto your breasts.

“...so beautiful. so perfect.” he breathed.

and immediately, caleb leaned down, his mouth targeting your left breast while his large hand cupped the right one, his calloused thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip with a pinch that made you arch off the cushions. when his hot tongue finally swiped across your nipple, a broken gasp tore out of your throat.

he took your nipple into his mouth, his lips locking around it as he sucked deeply, pulling the sensitive nub against the roof of his mouth. 

“caleb—ah! wait—” you whimpered, your hands flying to his broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscle to push him away.

your logic was screaming at you, a fading voice telling you how humiliating this was, how deeply wrong it was to be falling apart under the touch of the man who had orchestrated your capture. the shame burned hotter than the blush on your face. but even as your hands pressed against his shoulders to push, your hips instinctively tilted upward, begging for something more, for something else. 

caleb switched sides, his wet mouth dragging across your chest to devour your other breast, his tongue lapping and swirling around the stiff peak until you were panting.

“...you like it,” he murmured against your skin, “you want more, don't you? tell me.”

“no... i don't—ah!”

the lie died instantly in your throat, turning into a ragged sob as a sudden intrusion stretched you open from below.

while your mind had been entirely consumed by the sensation of his mouth on your tits, caleb had slid his hand back down your abdomen. his fingers had touched the cotton of your underwear, and without a single word of warning, he had buried two of his fingers deep inside your tight warmth.

the suddenness of it made your toes curl once more, your fingers instantly gripping his hair to pull him hard against your chest. his fingers were so long, stretching you open before he immediately began to pump them inside you, his knuckles rubbing hard against your clit with every thrust.

caleb's tongue dragged flat over your wet nipple, his teeth catching the peak just hard enough to make your hips jerk off the cushions. he sucked it deep into his mouth, chest expanding with a rough breath while his two fingers drove all the way into you, bottoming out against your tight walls.

the sliding sound of his knuckles against your soaked panties filled the space between you, sharp and uncomfortably loud.

caleb pulled his mouth away from your breast, his eyes locked onto yours with his messy bangs brushing your forehead. a slow, small smile crept across his lips—that same dependable expression he used when he was tending to you last night, now utterly curdled by the sight of you pinned beneath him like this.

“shh, it's okay,” he whispered, suddenly pulling his fingers out of your heat. “i'm just taking care of you, [name]. we can't have you getting into the truck all wet like this,” and then, he plunges them back into you much, much deeper again. “that'd be something, wouldn't it?” 

“fuck you,” you choked out, the curse losing all its weight when he suddenly hooked his fingers and drove them faster, hitting your spot with a punishing pace.

“ah—! caleb—”

you were a complete hypocrite. 

your brain was screaming at you that this was the man who had planned your isolation, the monster who had cut your legs, but your body was entirely detached from your sanity. shame burned hot in your throat, a nauseating weight in your stomach, but as he drove his fingers in even faster, your knees instinctively fell further apart.

you spread yourself wider for him, your thighs loosening and opening your pussy to his hands as you chased the pressure of his knuckles.

caleb let out a grunt that was followed by a chuckle, “hmm, look at you. look how wide you're opening up for me.”

he drove his hand in harder, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit, rubbing in circles with every wet thrust. 

“caleb, please—fuck—stop, it's too much—!”

“no, it's not?” he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath blooming against your skin. “you want this. just take it, [name]. let me finish taking care of you.”

the friction inside you became too much, the pressure of his knuckles building into a wave that you couldn't fight anymore. your breath caught in your chest, your fingers clawing uselessly at the fabric of his hoodie as you felt something tightening into a knot in your lower abdomen. your logic, your shame, the memory of the room down the hall—everything completely shattered as the sensation pushed you over the edge.

you fell straight into an orgasm.

“caleb—ah! caleb!”

your thighs convulsed, legs trembling against the cushions as you came hard right against his hand, the muscles inside you clamping down around his fingers in pulses. you were utterly mortified, tears of pure overstimulation stinging the corners of your eyes, but your body was utterly out of your control.

and caleb didn't stop.

even as your hips bucked and your legs shook, he kept his fingers inside you just to continue to pump his hand. he didn't slacken the pace for a single second, driving his hand in deep, forcing you to ride out the hypersensitive waves of the climax. 

“aw, look at that,” he squeezed and grunted his voice. “look how much you're cumming for me, [name].”

he gave two more deep, dragging thrusts, bottoming out against your walls one last time before he finally and slowly curled his fingers and pulled his hand out of you.

the sudden withdrawal left you feeling empty, shivering instantly as the cool air hit your wet skin. you lay there helpless, your arms thrown back against the cushions, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. 

you watched the way caleb lifted his wet hand, how his fingers were coated in your orgasm, shining in the low light. keeping his eyes locked onto yours, he brought his hand to his mouth and wrapped his lips around his middle fingers, sucking the slick moisture off his skin.

you widened your eyes, “hey, that's-”

he suddenly reached up, his palm resting gently on the top of your head. his fingers smoothed through your messy hair, patting you with a smile that felt terrifyingly domestic, like a pet owner rewarding a good animal. 

“there,” caleb murmured. “is that already better, [name]? did i take good care of it for you?”

he let his hand slide down from your hair, his thumb lightly brushing the side of your knee where your legs lay loose and parted against the cushions.

“no more legs tightening now, right?”

“shut up.”

caleb stayed kneeling between your feet for a few moments longer, his serene smile never wavering as his thumb traced a gentle circle on the side of your knee. “i'll get those pants for you now.” 

he stood up, his bare feet making no sound against the floor while he walked toward the hallway. you watched his broad frame disappear down the corridor, heading toward the bedroom—past the heavy wooden door that held the corkboards, the maps, the candid photos of your life, and the polaroids of the dead.

the second he was out of sight, the spell broke.

the fog in your brain cleared with a sudden, violent snap. the shame was a bitter taste in the back of your throat, but you couldn't afford to sink into it. your legs were loose now, the tight tension gone, replaced by a cold adrenaline. you sat up, your bare feet hitting the floor. 

you didn't wait for the new pants, instead you grabbed the discarded ones on the floor and put them back on again. 

then, your eyes locked onto the kitchen counter.

there, resting on the laminate wood right next to the empty glass of water, was the heavy metal keyring. the keys to the truck.

holding your breath, you stood up on your trembling, bandaged legs. every step was a sharp flare of agony against the fresh gauze, but you pushed through it, padding silently across the living room. your fingers closed around the cold metal of the keys, wrapping tight to keep them from jingling.

you turned toward the front door, before your hand gripped the brass deadbolt.

click.

the sound of the latch releasing felt as loud as a gunshot in the cabin.

“[name?]”

you didn't look back. you threw the door open, the air of the misty afternoon hitting your bare skin like a physical blow. you lunged out into the gray light, your wool-socked feet slipping on the wet grass as you sprinted toward the open hood of the truck.

slimming into the driver's seat, you jammed the key into the ignition and turned it. the engine roared to life, coughing violently before settling into a rumble.

through the grimy windshield, you saw him.

caleb had stepped out onto the porch of the cabin. he didn't run down the steps. he didn't scream your name. he just stood there in the mist, holding a pair of neatly folded red flannel pajama pants in his left hand. his eyes locked onto yours through the glass, his face entirely expressionless as the wind whipped his messy bangs across his forehead.

you slammed the truck into reverse, the tires spinning and spraying thick mud into the air as you backed out of the clearing. you threw the gear into drive, stamping your foot down on the gas pedal, tearing down the overgrown dirt track that led toward the highway.

the trees blurred past in a sickening rush of green and gray. you were breathing hard, tears finally spilling over your hot cheeks as you gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turned white. 

finally, you were escaping. you were going home.

but as your eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, watching the silhouette of the cabin disappear into the dense timber behind you, a sickening realization settled deep into your chest.

you had the truck. you had the keys. but he had the blueprints. he had your schedule, your routes, your predictable blind spots, and the black line drawn neatly across the face of everyone you loved. you were driving back to the city, back to your life, but you knew—with a certainty—that you were just moving along the exact path he had already paved for you.

the truck hit the smooth asphalt of the main highway, the tires humming against the road, but the shape of the woods followed you all the way home.

[warmlyregarded]

✉️ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ heavy - sylus 秦彻

જ⁀➴ ✉︎ pairing: sylus x mc!reader | summary: after a mission gone wrong, you make your way to sylus' base and force yourself to train.

જ⁀➴ ✉︎ tags + warnings: angst, hurt to comfort, soft sylus, mentions of blood and injury, training until injury, self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of fighting, hugging and kissing, sylus offering comfort, protective sylus, no y/n, one-shot | wc: 1.9k+ | author's note: i think i tagged everything but pls let me know if i missed anything. title from heavy by the marias

you’re deep within the confines of sylus’ base, tucked inside a training room that was all black mats and stone walls. the stale air sits silently around you—the only thing permeating it the panting of your breath and the thumps of your fists as they assault a punching bag.

an artillery of weapons lines the walls around you. you neglect them all in favor of the rubber underneath your fists, inhaling the sting like you deserved it.

and didn’t you?

scenes from today's mission flash between your eyes. you were caught off guard, ambushed by wanderers because of your carelessness.

you throw a punch, and it is like you can feel their tendrils wrapping around you again. it’s suffocating.

in the end, you took one of them down before fleeing out the abandoned building you’d been sent to scout. you didn’t even accomplish your mission, instead, running back to headquarters like a dog with its tail between its legs.

at headquarters, you did your due diligence of reporting what had gone wrong, namely admitting to all the intel you didn't secure. how could you fail at the only thing in life you’ve ever wanted to work towards?

you punch harder. red bruises begin to bloom at the tips of your knuckle. a strange satisfaction blooms from this, as if seeing proof of your efforts will make you more adept.

this is, perhaps, the worst part. the mission had been relatively simple: get in, collect information, maybe take down a few wanderers along the way, and get out.

you had done almost none of that.

that’s why you’re here, opting to get as far away from the hunter’s association as possible. what better place than the n109 zone?

when you arrived earlier in the evening, sylus was nowhere to be found. such was what you were hoping for.

you had gotten patched up at the association just in case. after the battle, you were left with a shallow but nasty gash on your forehead and several bruises to the torso.

god forbid sylus see you with an open wound, otherwise, he'd raise hell before even asking what it was from.

it was only after you arrived though, did a memory from a few months ago surface. one that certainly didn't help the shame brewing in your chest.

it was a rare instance when the both of you had run into trouble in the n109 zone. a pack of petty thieves who had chosen the wrong people to target.

when the encounter escalated from verbal threats to physical, sylus had pushed you out of the way, absorbing a nasty punch all for the sake of protecting you.

he dealt with the rest of them no problem, and with your help, but after it was over—and the thieves lay half dead in the alleyway—you had turned to him with narrow eyes and a crease between your brows.

"why would you do that?" you asked, hand coming up to push against his shoulder.

he didn't budge.

"you mean protect you?" he said, with wide eyes and a look that bordered on shock. as if he couldn't believe you'd deny his protection.

"i didn't need you to take the hit for me," you had told him, turning away. "i can handle myself."

and from then on, sylus took care of you, but he didn't protect you. at least, not in the same way. he is always there, always hovering, but never overprotective, as if your brief confession to him was all-telling about the care you were willing to receive.

this memory lingers in your mind again as you continue your assault on the punching bag. your hand shoots out, harder than the last time, and you can't help but wonder if sylus sees something about you that you don't.

that maybe you can't handle yourself as well as you thought you could.

and if you couldn't even hold your own in a fight... then what else was there for you to claim prowess for?

the next punch breaks skin.

your knuckles sting as they split.

you wonder how far you can go until your body gives in.

by this hour of night, you feel the toll. the exhaustion settles deep in your lungs and heavy in your feet. but the pain does little to deter you.

in the back of your mind, there is a nagging voice. a fear that maybe one day, you will be ten times as injured and met with the presence of a wanderer.

you have to fight.

what will you have if you don't?

"weren't even going to tell me you were coming?"

a deep, velvet voice interrupts the room. for once, it is the last person you want to see right now.

you continue hitting, eyes locked on the poor bag in front of you.

"you can't expect to come into my home and ignore me, kitten."

you feel his presence approach you. his footsteps are almost as prominent as the thud of your punches.

you hit again and again.

and like a pin dropped to the ground, you can almost feel the moment he realizes what is going on.

the blood that stains the punching bag and your hands. the bandage pressed against your forehead. the sloppy fighting stance you're sure you've adorned but couldn't be bothered enough by to care.

a large hand wraps itself around your wrist before you can make contact again.

before you can throw yourself out of sylus' grasp, he pulls on your arm. it's not hard enough to hurt, but it is enough for you to be fully turned towards him, hands catching against his chest for balance as his arm wraps around your waist.

the look on his face is stern, red eyes automatically scanning down your face and body. it is a look he tries to make deliberate but one you recognize as frantic.

the last thing you wanted to do was worry him.

"i'm fine-"

"you're hurt."

you attempt to pull away from him, but his hold on you is firm. you remain flush against his chest with the only place to look being up at him. with breaths still heavy from exertion, you remain silent.

sylus raises a brow and tilts his head to the side, seemingly deciding that your injuries were not the highest of his concerns.

"you better have a damn good reason why you didn't tell me sooner," he says. his voice is lower than normal as if restraining himself from an outburst.

"i can-"

"and why you're injured."

"sylus-"

"and why there's blood on your hands."

he spits the words out. his breath is warm against your cheek. his grip tightens around you. you are so, so close to him.

it's hard to tell if your heart is pounding because of his intensity or his proximity.

you can tell sylus is angry. not at you, but at the helplessness he must feel.

you know sylus better than anyone, so you know his questions are an attempt at finding reason before blowing the roof off his own base.

beyond what he asks, you see the downward frown at the corner of his lips. the gleam in his eyes that are shining for you, only barely shadowed by fury.

there is something about this look in his eyes that breaks through to you.

and all of a sudden, every emotion you had attempted to harness under the guise of training came through in the form of tears.

all at once, you buckle into sylus' arms. ones that let go of your wrist and instead bring you even closer into his embrace. the two of you sink to the floor, and as the tears fall from your face, his arms are the only steady things in the room.

what you don't see is the way his expression cracks, just for a second, as if his heart is breaking just from the sound of your sobs. any ounce of anger he had been harboring disappeared all at once.

he rubs your back as you cry. gives you a minute, maybe two.

"tell me what happened."

and you do. every last bit of it. from the weakness you felt fighting the wanderers to your failure of a mission.

you don't even mean to confess all of it. just enough so he understands why you're crying, but once you start, it all comes spilling out.

the words tumble from your lips. you speak what must be incoherent sentences. this is all you have ever worked towards. it's the only thing you could trust yourself to do well.

you even tell him about the time he took the hit for you in the alley. something that is as simultaneously haunting as it is irrelevant.

and beneath what you say, sylus knows exactly why it is so important to you for you to protect yourself.

he responds to your confessions with soft hums and brief nods. at some point, his hand comes up to pat your head. you think the action makes you cry more.

sylus gives you time. for this, you are most grateful.

he lets your breathing even out and your tears slow their fall. it is only then does he pull back from the embrace he wrapped you in. you almost don't want to look him in the face knowing how the crying looks on your face.

but the look in his eyes when you meet them is anything but bothered by that. instead, it is a look you almost mistake for pity.

because in all the time you have known sylus, he has never looked at you with only love. it is always a fraction of the expression, mixed in with concern or curiosity or lust.

but in this moment, sylus looks at you with pure adoration. you feel it in the depth of his gaze. in the dilation of his pupils. in the way his entire being would bend the rules of the universe just to be here before you.

his thumb comes up to brush a tear from your cheek, and he cups your face in his hands.

"you are not a failure," he says it with more belief than you think you've ever had for yourself in your life.

"do you think you got to where you are by being weak? every battle is a testament to your strength, even the bad ones."

sylus leans back and moves to hold your hand, running a feather-light touch over the newly split cuts.

"i will not let you hurt the strongest person i know."

he brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your wounds. his words come slow and sincere.

"and if you ever feel like your hard work isn't enough, i will do everything in my power to get you where you want to be. just say the word."

at this, he brings both of your hands to his heart, bringing you ever so much closer. and slowly, as if asking for permission, he inches his lips towards yours.

the kiss is sweet.

his lips capture yours, and a heated warmth spreads through you. it is filled with all the love he cannot put into words. a promise of all the truths he has just expressed.

sylus is not the cure to your doubts, but he is a form of severance.

in the dim light of the training room, he embraces you so lovingly that you can't help but believe these doubts could one day dissipate.

જ⁀➴ ✉︎ author's note: is this one-shot just me projecting? maybe LMAO. this is my first time writing sylus and lads in general, so i hope you enjoyed! i've been deep in the lads rabbit hole, and it's the only thing on my mind lately lol. i know people who are taken aback by the concept or the nsfw aspects of it, which i understand isn't for everyone! but at the end of the day, lads is so special because of the comfort, adventure, and love it offers. that's part of what inspired me to write this :3 and for these reasons, #bringvalkoback!!! (ps thanks for reading my rant)

© All writing is my original work. All rights reserved. Do not copy, reproduce, publish, adapt, plagiarize, or use my writing in any form or for any purpose (including feeding it to AI).

[xinghuisknight]

૮ ․ ․ ྀིა｡ 沈星回 : off my table!

synopsis.⠀after a horrid meeting at work, you find xavier asleep at your desk. he's... unusually clingy. tags.⠀sfw, fluff, crack kinda, pre-relationship xavmc, gn!reader, reader's already a little annoyed for comedic effect, idrk i wrote this on a whim :C. short & not proofread!

“That’s correct, miss. This month’s attacks have been greatly reduced thanks to our—”

One more word from this meeting and your head will explode. No, in fact, implode. That would be less of a mess to clean up. It’s a shame you’re all by yourself there. Apparently, they specifically needed you, showing you off as a trophy for all you’ve managed to accomplish recently. There was no way out.

You wanted Tara to be there, at the very least. Nudging your shoulder every now and then, cracking some random joke-remark while the higher ups would be discussing over serious stuff… anything but this. Her presence would help with lighting up the mood instead of having to deal with the fact that two of your supervisors are standing there, admiring you as if you’re a statue made out of authentic gold.

Thankfully for you, it ends quickly, which makes you walk back towards your desk, exiting the meeting room. It feels like your head is made out of nothing but putty, melting down on your body as you sluggishly try to find your way back. Not only this, but paperwork’s happily anticipating you back there. Another headache perfectly awaiting your arrival. Wonderful.

Slowly pulling yourself together, you open the door leading to your office. That’s where you see a white-haired man, in his hunter uniform, in your chair, his head on your desk, in… what?

“Xavier?” Your voice reaches his ears, his fingers coiling ever so slightly around the edges of your desk. His closed eyes twitch a little, before groggily opening themselves up, still squinting, to take a good look at you and at his surroundings. He seemed as if he didn’t understand why he was even there.

“Mmh?” He lets out a soft murmur, slooowly raising his head from the desk. This way, you can get a better look at your work partner and neighbor who just so happened to fall asleep right where you should be sitting at. You perk your eyebrows up in response to his mumbling, asking for answers.

Xavier doesn’t speak, however. That prompts you to break the silence once more.

“Are you… alright? What’re you doing here?”

It’s not long before his eyes fully open to look directly into yours. “Just hanging out.”

Hanging out?! Is he being serious right now…?

“At… at my desk?” Rhetorical tone drips out of your throat.

“Yes.” He answers casually, as if this is a normal, day-to-day occurance. Still a little perplexed by the situation, you approach him and signal towards the stack of papers on your desk. You motion towards them, indirectly letting him know that you still have work to do. And that he’s in the way.

While he does pick up what you’ve been gesturing, Xavier doesn’t exactly let go of interrogating you as if you were the one who he caught red-handed. “Is your meeting over?”

“Uh, yes…” You furrow your eyebrows a little, responding to his question. Obviously it would have ended, you’re standing right in front of him. “Why? Did you want to talk to me about something? Are you alright?”

It’s the second time you’ve asked this. You do know Xavier to be a bit of an oddball, but this seemed a little out of your area of expertise. Luckily for you, he finally stands up—a little silly due to you intrerrupting his very nice nap in your ‘abode’—and eyes you up and down, like a confused puppy. You’re still completely lost.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just… waiting for you.”

And the reasoning you did not know of. Still, your brain feels way too heavy to carry on your shoulders to actually try to understand this man. You just got out of an awkward situation, just to enter in yet another one. Sighing, a little heavier than you would have liked, you sat back down on your chair, your hands sluggishly grasping the paperwork to slide it in front of your face.

Xavier is still there.

You wait a little longer, too occupied to mind him, engrossed and utterly engulfed in that ugly stack of sheets, carefully sorting everything and going over the same lines written there—

Xavier is still there.

—to make sure that you’re absolutely doing everything well for the Association. After all, as you’ve noticed today, you were the grand trophy of your workplace, no? You just had to continue to—

Xavier is still there.

…Well.

“Why are you still here.” The way you phrased it didn’t even sound like it’s meant to be a question. You painfully tore your eyes away from that blinding white, meeting his calm blue eyes. As if that didn’t infuriate you further.

“Sorry. Should I go?”

The way he phrased it didn’t sound like a genuine question, either. Just a little more pathetic, so to speak.

“Ah— I mean, uh, I don’t mind.” You reply, almost instantly. The way his eyes were practically begging you to let him hang around you for a while longer made your heart melt. You can’t just whisk him away, especially when he’s been acting so… odd.

Gathering your thoughts together (amongst the stack of paper which has now been reduced in height a little), you gesture towards Xavier that he can come a little closer if he wishes to. Maybe, if he’s a little closer to you, you’d be able to press him further as to why he’s so insistent on staying.

It’s fun, if you’re honest.

Taking this opportunity, you let him lean a little closer. You poke his cheek, grabbing his attention. Pulling the exact move as he usually does: engage, then fall silent before the other. Your question remains unspoken in your eyes, which seem to stare him up as if your gaze could easily pierce right through him. That same odd feeling lingering in the air between you two.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

There he goes! He’s finally talking to you, as awkward as your situation still might be, he’s at least saying something.

“For what?” You press on, even though you already know what he’s sorry for. You just want to squeeze out answers out of him, that’s all.

“For invading your desk. I only wanted to find you, but then sleep washed over me, and… your desk was the nearest station.”

His knee accidentally touches yours, making you jump a little. It wakes you from whatever daze you were in, letting out an exasperated breath.

“You have such a way with words.”

a/n.⠀haven't posted in like... a month... hdhfdh i'm sorry. this is a little sloppy because i kind of lost interest in lads recently given everything,, </3 instead i've been super into indie visual novels! who cares!!!!!!!! oh oh also, check out xavier's birthday bang where i'll be featured in as well ^^ keep an eye out! until then, i might go on a short hiatus on here ;;

taglist.⠀feel free to ask to be (un)tagged in future works~⠀@hirayalia @naomiarai @thinkingofzayne @lariivcx @wetforsylus @snowypi @gravitationalbluberry @valkyrhii <3

thank you aditi for the idea :')

[mwphisto]

You'd been acting up all afternoon during his work conference.

Purposely wearing a short sundress, only bending over when you knew he'd catch sight of your underwear riding up your ass. Hand lying on his thigh during presentations, inching so painfully close to his groin and stopping just short of cupping his balls through his slacks.

To say you were getting on his nerves was an understatement.

It all built up on the elevator ride down to the next conference room, after a quick lunch in his office where he surprisingly kept his composure - much to your dismay. So, you took drastic measures.

His hand was slack by his side, not quite touching you though you could tell his fingers were aching to. Wrapping around his wrist, you dragged him carefully under your skirt, letting him feel how wet you were. Your panties now damp from hours of working yourself up.

Wordlessly, you let his wrist go, not surprised when his hand lingered for a moment before dropping back to his side. He didn't so much as glance at you, but you noticed the tick in his jaw as the elevator reached the destined floor. One after another, people filed out.

Just as you moved to slip past Zayne, his fingers caught the mid-section of your ponytail and yanked it hard. You barely swallow the yelp that crawls up your throat, eyes widening a fraction as Zayne doesn't let go. Instead, he steps forward, iron grip still on your hair.

Your scalp stings slightly from where he had tugged, the pain sending a new wave of arousal straight into your abdomen. The doors nearly shut on the two of you before his free hand shot out to stop them. Leaning down in the process, his breath warm as he presses his lips to your ear. Two words were all you needed to hear.

"Behave yourself."

Since we wanna act all crazy n shit mid-day @zaynezone

[mwphisto]

You'd been acting up all afternoon during his work conference.

Purposely wearing a short sundress, only bending over when you knew he'd catch sight of your underwear riding up your ass. Hand lying on his thigh during presentations, inching so painfully close to his groin and stopping just short of cupping his balls through his slacks.

To say you were getting on his nerves was an understatement.

It all built up on the elevator ride down to the next conference room, after a quick lunch in his office where he surprisingly kept his composure - much to your dismay. So, you took drastic measures.

His hand was slack by his side, not quite touching you though you could tell his fingers were aching to. Wrapping around his wrist, you dragged him carefully under your skirt, letting him feel how wet you were. Your panties now damp from hours of working yourself up.

Wordlessly, you let his wrist go, not surprised when his hand lingered for a moment before dropping back to his side. He didn't so much as glance at you, but you noticed the tick in his jaw as the elevator reached the destined floor. One after another, people filed out.

Just as you moved to slip past Zayne, his fingers caught the mid-section of your ponytail and yanked it hard. You barely swallow the yelp that crawls up your throat, eyes widening a fraction as Zayne doesn't let go. Instead, he steps forward, iron grip still on your hair.

Your scalp stings slightly from where he had tugged, the pain sending a new wave of arousal straight into your abdomen. The doors nearly shut on the two of you before his free hand shot out to stop them. Leaning down in the process, his breath warm as he presses his lips to your ear. Two words were all you needed to hear.

"Behave yourself."

Since we wanna act all crazy n shit mid-day @zaynezone

[mwphisto]

You'd been acting up all afternoon during his work conference.

Purposely wearing a short sundress, only bending over when you knew he'd catch sight of your underwear riding up your ass. Hand lying on his thigh during presentations, inching so painfully close to his groin and stopping just short of cupping his balls through his slacks.

To say you were getting on his nerves was an understatement.

It all built up on the elevator ride down to the next conference room, after a quick lunch in his office where he surprisingly kept his composure - much to your dismay. So, you took drastic measures.

His hand was slack by his side, not quite touching you though you could tell his fingers were aching to. Wrapping around his wrist, you dragged him carefully under your skirt, letting him feel how wet you were. Your panties now damp from hours of working yourself up.

Wordlessly, you let his wrist go, not surprised when his hand lingered for a moment before dropping back to his side. He didn't so much as glance at you, but you noticed the tick in his jaw as the elevator reached the destined floor. One after another, people filed out.

Just as you moved to slip past Zayne, his fingers caught the mid-section of your ponytail and yanked it hard. You barely swallow the yelp that crawls up your throat, eyes widening a fraction as Zayne doesn't let go. Instead, he steps forward, iron grip still on your hair.

Your scalp stings slightly from where he had tugged, the pain sending a new wave of arousal straight into your abdomen. The doors nearly shut on the two of you before his free hand shot out to stop them. Leaning down in the process, his breath warm as he presses his lips to your ear. Two words were all you needed to hear.

"Behave yourself."

Since we wanna act all crazy n shit mid-day @zaynezone

[itwashotwestayedinthewater]

[nixdvn]

Xavier's belly is fluffy!!

[bakubrattt]

Boyfriend!Valko Headcanons

A/n: I just wanted to make some cute and sexy headcanons for our beefy werewolf and oh my God, I made him so puppy-coded ahh I just wanted some of these to be unique ;~; comments, reblogs, and likes deeply appreciated! NSFW ones are under a warning divider.

💚 Valko Masterlist 💚

Valko was late-diagnosed with ADHD around the time the two of you first started dating. He gave medication an honest try, but it only lasted about a month. Neither of you liked how much of his sparkle seemed to disappear when he was on it. These days, you’d both rather put up with his forgetfulness, restless energy, and tendency to get distracted halfway through a sentence than lose the vibrant personality you fell in love with.

Valko absolutely loves taking you off-roading in his Ford Bronco Sport. The rougher the trail, the bigger his grin gets. He’ll deliberately aim for muddy hills, rocky creek crossings, and winding forest paths just to hear you laugh when the whole SUV bounces beneath you. By the time you get home, the Bronco is filthy, you’re both covered in dust, and he’s already asking where you should explore next weekend.

Every hike turns into a treasure hunt because Valko can’t stop collecting little things for you. He’ll tuck tiny wildflowers behind your ear, and add another bloom to the growing bouquet in your hand. He’s a walking encyclopedia of plants. If he finds a fallen branch that’s big enough, though, all bets are off. He’ll light up like an excited kid, sprint over to grab it, and proudly use it as a walking stick for the rest of the hike. More than once you’ve had to yell at him not to start lifting entire fallen tree trunks just because he wants to test his strength. He claims he’s “just curious.” You secretly think it’s kind of hot.

Camping is one of his favorite ways to spend time with you. After a day hike, he’ll happily build the campfire while you set up the tent. Once the sun goes down, the two of you end up lying on a blanket with chocolate s’mores crumbed around your lips and his, watching the stars. He always claims he knows the constellations, but at least half of them are names he made up on the spot.

Valko has an incredible amount of restless energy and struggles to sit still for very long. You finally got tired of watching him reach for his phone every ten minutes during movie nights, so you started buying him fidget toys instead. To your surprise, they actually worked. Now he’ll happily click, spin, squeeze, or fiddle with whatever little gadget you’ve handed him while the two of you watch a movie, his attention staying on the screen instead of drifting somewhere else.

He absolutely hates fireworks. His hearing is far too sensitive for them, so every Fourth of July he quietly disappears with a pair of earplugs before the first boom even goes off. You’ll usually find him hiding in bed, shoulders tensing every time another explosion rattles the windows. He tries to laugh it off, but if you join him under the blanket and cuddle up beside him, he’ll relax almost immediately.

Valko uses dog shampoo on his tail. You only found out the first time you showered together at his place, when you noticed a bottle sitting next to his regular shampoo and gave him a very confused look. After he explained that it kept the fur cleaner, softer, and healthier, it suddenly made perfect sense. Now he lets you wash and brush his tail for him because he knows how much you enjoy fussing over it.

Taking Valko grocery shopping is dangerous because he’ll wander off for “just a minute” and inevitably come back with an armful of snacks nobody asked for. Somehow the cart always ends up containing kids’ chocolate milk, three kinds of beef jerky, and whatever new flavor of protein bars caught his eye. He’ll proudly present his haul like he accomplished the mission, only for both of you to realize he forgot the one thing you actually went to the store for.

His hands are rough with calluses because he constantly forgets to wear lifting gloves. You’ve bought him hand lotion more than once, but every bottle somehow ends up untouched in the bathroom cabinet. The only way he’ll actually use it is if you take his hands into yours and rub it in for him. He insists it’s because you “do it better,” but you suspect he just likes the excuse to sit there while you hold his hands.

Valko usually prefers floor time over the couch. You’ll be curled up comfortably watching a movie while he sprawls across the floor with his back resting against your legs, occasionally glancing up at you whenever he hears you laugh. If your fingers wander into his hair or behind his wolf ears, he’ll quietly lean back harder against you until he’s practically using your knees as a pillow.

He was surprisingly resistant to joining your little face mask nights at first, insisting they “weren’t really his thing.” It took exactly one evening of you convincing him to try a cooling mask fresh out of the shower. Now it’s become one of his favorite little rituals. The two of you climb onto the couch with a glass of wine, matching face masks on, a movie playing in the background while he cuddles up beside you, pizza rolls heating in the oven.

Valko unconsciously nudges you with his shoulder or forehead when he wants your attention. If you’re reading, he’ll gently bump your arm. If you’re working, he’ll rest his forehead against yours until you finally look up. It’s the werewolf equivalent of saying, “pet me.”

He loves when you play with his hair or scratch behind his wolf ears. He’ll deny it every single time, insisting he doesn’t need it, but within thirty seconds he’s leaning into your hand with his eyes half closed. If you stop too soon, he’ll casually lower his head back under your fingers as if to remind you that you weren’t finished.

Playfighting is practically one of his love languages. He’ll wrestle with you over the TV remote, steal your phone just to make you chase him, and scoop you off the floor the second you try to tackle him. Once he’s caught you, you’re getting tossed over his shoulder or effortlessly lifted into the air like you’re his favorite chew toy, all while he’s laughing too hard to defend himself from your playful punches.

His nose is both a blessing and a curse. He can tell when you’re ovulating long before you mention it, and he can smell the moment your period starts too. It’s endlessly embarrassing because you’ll occasionally catch him pausing mid-conversation to sniff the air around you with genuine curiosity, completely fascinated by every natural change your body goes through. To him it’s just information. To you, it’s mortifying.

He has a not-so-secret obsession with the way you naturally smell. Perfume is nice, but nothing compares to the scent of your skin after a workout. Whenever you exercise together, he’ll inevitably find himself lingering a little too close, completely distracted by the smell of your sweat. He insists your deodorant ruins it and has jokingly complained more than once that it covers up his favorite scent.

He’s almost embarrassingly obsessed with the smell of your lady bits. One evening, you stepped out of the shower only to return to the bedroom and find him completely passed out on the bed with your used panties draped over his face. When you woke him up to ask what on earth he was doing, he looked at you like it was the most natural thing in the world before sleepily mumbling, “you smell delicious.”

He has a ridiculous soft spot for your little socks. The moment you drape your legs across his lap while you’re lounging on the couch, he’ll start rubbing your feet, kneading away any soreness while the two of you watch TV. Every now and then, though, he’ll absentmindedly lift your feet closer to his face and take a long, appreciative sniff before you can stop him. It’s easily one of the most mortifying habits he has. He insists he doesn’t have a foot fetish. You remain highly unconvinced.

Valko absolutely melts when you scratch the sensitive skin along his inner thighs and around his groin, especially after a long day. The moment your fingers find the right spot, he’ll shamelessly spread his legs wider without a second thought, resting back with the most content expression you’ve ever seen. He has absolutely no pride about it. If you’re willing to spoil him, he’s more than happy to sit there and soak up every second of the attention.

For someone so shameless in almost every other aspect of life, Valko is unbelievably private about using the bathroom. The door is always locked, and he refuses to let you anywhere near him while he pees. When you jokingly asked why, he thought about it for a second before answering, completely serious, “maybe I’ll let you hold it when we get married.”

Valko absolutely loves going down on you. He’s a messy eater in every sense of the word, throwing himself into it with shameless enthusiasm until he’s panting from the heat of it. The deeper he gets into pleasing you, the more his restraint disappears. He growls against you without realizing it and ends up drooling all over your pussy while happily lapping at you like he could spend hours there without ever getting his fill. His favorite position is to have you sit on his face if he’s not lifting you upside down by your thighs.

Despite his intimidating size, Valko is naturally more submissive than dominant once the bedroom door closes. It took time for him to fully trust you with that side of himself, but once he did, he flourished. These days he’s an eager, obedient good boy who melts under confident hands, happily letting you take control. He loves being praised, teased, and pushed around a little, and nothing makes him happier than hearing you tell him how well he’s doing.

Pet play comes almost embarrassingly naturally to him. He loves the comforting weight of a leather collar around his neck and owns several different ones, always bringing them over and letting you decide which one you want him to wear that day. He’ll happily chew on a ball gag while looking up at you with those golden eyes, and the moment you clip a leash onto his collar, he’s already following wherever you lead him without the slightest complaint.

His favorite position is, unsurprisingly, doggy style. He loves the feeling of looming over you, wrapping his body around yours while rutting into you with relentless enthusiasm. Half the time he’s completely mesmerized by the sight of your ass bouncing beneath him; the other half he’s watching both of you in the mirror, completely captivated while your praise spurs him on even more.

In the beginning, Valko was incredibly self-conscious about his knot. He always made sure to pull out before finishing, choosing your stomach or back instead, then disappearing into the bathroom almost immediately before you could see what happened afterward. He was embarrassed of himself, convinced his biology would only make things awkward.

That embarrassment didn’t survive for very long. Once he realized you loved every part of him, knot included, he stopped hiding. Now he’s shameless about it, often ending up breathlessly begging to knot you instead. When he’s especially worked up, he’ll press himself close behind you and growl promises into your ear about filling you until your tummy swells with his seed.

He also has an undeniable breeding kink, though admitting it took far longer than admitting almost anything else. It stayed tucked away in the back of his mind until one day he finally confessed it, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Once it was out in the open, roleplay quickly became one of his favorite indulgences, especially whenever the fantasy revolved around you begging for his pups.

Valko has an oddly intense fascination with your breasts, especially your nipples. If chocolate syrup happens to be involved, all the better. He’ll happily lick every drop away with shameless dedication before getting distracted by sucking on your nipples until they’re swollen, completely losing track of time while he quietly enjoys himself.

Full moons bring out a side of Valko that’s almost unrecognizable in bed. The playful teasing fades into something far more primal, leaving him meaner, rougher, and much more commanding than usual. He always feels so guilty afterward, worried he might have been too much, while you’re left reassuring him that seeing that untamed side of him only reminds you that it’s still him underneath it all…And that you think his dominance is just as sexy as his submission.

[baobei-bu]

I was supposed to be having fun with my 6th boyfriend but oh well

[pearlescenthoney]

❥ rafayel pops a boner every time he paints you. just picturing you in his head and tracing your shape on the canvas gets the blood rushing straight to his cock.

but no worries, he can render with one hand.

[rukkiya]

overheating

*ೃ sylus x fem reader *ೃ

(reader is sick but still pushes herself to work, sylus finds you in grave danger as you try to fight while you have a high fever )

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Your arm feels heavy as you lift it to shut the alarm off, your head is already pounding despite just waking up. You stand and feel the familiar feeling of body aches set into your legs, a small sign of you coming down with a fever.

You're stubborn though, that wasn't enough to make you stay home from work.

It takes a while longer to get ready for work, but you can’t miss. There’s so much to get done, meetings you can’t miss, paperwork you need to get done by today.

Leaving your apartment the heavy feeling sets itself behind your eyes and entire body. It's hot out but you have a cold sweat, there's much, too much to call in and stay home. You just have to hope it gets better.

During the first few hours of your shift you feel your eyes burn more, the documents from past wanderer attacks need to get done. You haven't been called out to any wanderer sightings today at least, you have that to be thankful for.

Beside you, your phone starts to vibrate. You pick it up and see Sylus is calling so you stand and walk from your desk to the empty halls.

"Hello?" You answer

"Why hello sweetie, a small crow told me you weren't feeling well today and well from the looks of it, you look pretty sick." Sylus greets you, you can hear his stupid sly smile playing on his lips through the phone.

"Sick...where's that dumb crow-" you grumble, eyebrows knitting together as you look out the window of your work building.

Sylus chuckles a low vibration ringing though your cell. He can hear your pout, which makes him chukle more.

"He didn't snitch. He just happened to be near you when I just checked on him and saw you leaning over the wall outside of your work. Couldn't call off Ms Hunter? Is your work really more important than your health?" He questions, the sound of disappointment dripping from his tone.

"No need to stay home if I can still walk, this is nothing I'm not sick just tired." You hold your ground, hoping he buys it.

"You don't always need to overwork yourself you know. You don't sleep enough as is, count on others to be there for you sweetie you're not alone." Sylus sighs, his serious tone making your face warm. He cares, him calling to check on you is enough of a tell tale but it makes you feel so damn warm and embarrassed.

"I'm fine really, a headache is nothing I can't handle. I'm not so fragile, you know, I'm a hunter for a reason." You hum and Sylus knows. He knows you're capable but when he saw how pale and exhausted you looked earlier he couldn't help but worry.

"I know you are capable, I don't doubt you one bit kitten." He softly speaks, he can't help but keep an eye on you.

You open your mouth to say something else but an alarm on your watch goes off before you can.

"Wanderer attack nearby, closer hunters nearby are needed repeat, wanderers nearby-"

"Shit." You silently curse, you thought nothing was going to be too eventful today.

"I have to go Sylus, I'll call you when I get home." You sigh hearing him sigh as well.

"Alright, be safe. I'll be awaiting your call." He agrees, though when you hang up he heads out of his office, checking your location on his phone before grabbing his motorcycle helmet.

He knows you can hold yourself against wanderers. But he doesn't trust your judgement on your health, he needs to be sure.

You're sent to a secluded area just almost out the cusp of the city. You split up with the group your sent with and walk to the alley to find any fluctuations

You feel your eyes strain as you load your gun, tucking it into the hilt on your leg you move.

A shiver runs down your spine, a cold breeze hits you, making you feel the light sweat in your hairline. A cold sweat hits you hard as you make your way around, checking your watch for the nearby wanderer.

A loud beep echoes down the hall, you turn hearing a loud growl beside you. Ducking before you fully turn you feel something hard hit your torso.

The air leaves your lungs when you slam into the wall next to you. If your body wasn’t in pain already it definitely was now.

You blink, trying to regain your breath as you sit up heaving. Your eyes are hazy from getting up too fast.

It screeches next to you and you stand, holding the hilt of your gun firm as you cautiously step around it.

The wanderer lets out a low growl, claws scratching the floor when you aim your gun its way. The wanderer stops and leers, getting ready to lunge but before it can you steady your hand, shooting two bullets watching the wanderer fall but another immediately appearing behind the fallen one.

You blink and before you can react it jumps, taking you down with it. Your gun falls a few feet away as the wanderer screeches over you.

The ringing in your ears from the impact of your head hitting the floor is loud, you feel worse than earlier. You should’ve listened to your body, to Sylus and taken today off. Why have things been going downhill since you woke up?

Struggling in its hold, your arm aches as you reach, fingers just brushing against the hilt when you use all your strength and pull underneath the claw of the monster. You feel your shoulder rip but don’t have time to think. Reaching as far as you can muster you grab hold of your gun and shoot, not stopping until it starts to disintegrate on top of you.

You lay there heaving as you try to regain strength to stand. Eyes blurring and head pounding to the point where you have to hunch over to stop the worsening pain.

Another loud alarm echos from your watch, from down the hall a wanderer appears, eyes locking in on you. Pulling your gun up you steady your shaky hands and aim, fingers on the trigger as it rounds its shoulders, running down the hall making a b-line for you.

The trigger pulls back but nothing comes out, the clip is empty and the wanderer is more than halfway down the hall. You mentally curse as you reach down your holster on your leg for extra bullets grabbing a handful before looking up you see it jump from where it is, about five feet away lunging your direction sharp teeth snarling and you freeze.

You stop moving, the bullets in your hands falling to the floor as you just look at the monster in front of you. This is it, a fatal move that costs you your life. Just because you couldn’t listen to others and you thought you could sweat a fever out you’re going to learn your lesson.

Your eyes shut and your hands fall loose to your sides.

“There’s nothing I can do.” You think, not even trying to move out of the way. Body too exhausted to do so. You let out a shaky breath and close your eyes, preparing for the worst.

It’s silent, like the calm before the storm. Then the sound of five rounds being fired rings behind you making you flinch.

“What do we have here? Kitten, you seem a bit distracted.” He clicks his tongue, putting his gun down making his way to you. His brows furrowed as he stared at the beast disintegrating in front of you.

“Now, I thought hunters were always supposed to be prepared. Seems you weren’t in the best shape to be here now?” He questions, seeing you turn.

You let out a shaky breath you weren’t even aware you were holding, you hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears and everything hits you.

Sylus waits, you don't respond. Not even a snarky comeback you’d usually bite back with. Nothing.

You bend and collect the bullets you dropped, trembling hands placing them in your pockets before you stand on shaky legs. The cold sweat makes your teeth clatter and the pain from your torso and shoulder shoots through you.

You can’t control it, the shaking, your breathing, everything is spiraling and you can’t stop it.

Taking a step you stumble, Sylus is next to you in an instant. His warm hand firmly holding you by your arm and the comfort that you feel when near him hits you. You feel safe.

Lifting your head to greet him but no words come out, you feel your legs buckle and everything goes silent.

Sylus lifts you before you even slump. Your body temperature is at a level that’s hot to the touch. He frantically moves your hair, palm flattening out on your forehead feeling the sheer heat radiating from you. He needs to cool you down instantly.

He rushes out to his car with you In his arms, gently laying you in the back before speeding home.

His mind is a wreck. When he saw you not even trying to save yourself he almost lost it. He couldn’t bear to lose you again. Not after it took him so long to find you again, for you to remember him finally.

You feel like you're in a haze, turning and groaning at the sheer chills you feel run through your body.

Sylus glances back through the rear view mirror and speeds, luckily you were on the cusp of the N109 zone not too far from his base.

Always so careless, refusing to let yourself rest even if it means your health is declining. Your stubbornness is scary, it rivals his own and he can't stand it, not if you're doing it to yourself.

His foot slams the breaks, he throws his door open and pulls the back doors open to get you instantly.

Your eyes crack open, your throat feeling incredibly dry. "It's so cold." you feel your voice crack, Sylus pulls you into his arms steadying you before lifting you up instantly.

His legs move fast, he can feel you shiver but your body temperature is dangerously high. He needs to bring it down now.

The main doors fly open and his legs waste no time making their way to the restroom. He gently lays you on the floor next to the bath as he sets the temperature to cold.

"Bring me a few bags of ice at the lower restroom by the entrance now." You hear Sylus speak into his phone, making your eyes open again.

"I'm cold, no ice please." You blink, the fever is at its worst. It's much more draining than you thought it would be.

"I know sweetie I'm going to help you." He whispers, calming tone hushing you as he moves your bangs from your face.

The twins come in seconds, heads whipping between Sylus and you as they hand him bags of ice.

"Boss are they alr-"

"Out." He speaks, opening the bags of ice. The twins don't hesitate, they leave the second the word leaves his mouth.

The bath is filled up a bit more than halfway. He pulls you near him, feeling you push him back a bit.

"I don't." You struggle, seeing the bath filled up and ice in there made your teeth clatter. "I'm so cold please don't." You pull your wrist back but it doesn't budge in Sylus' firm grasp

"Sweetie, I need you to listen to my voice." He steadys you, hands gently holding your face in his warm palms. "You need to cool off, I'm here with you ok? I won't let nothing else happen." He assures, nodding his head when your hazy eyes meet his.

You feel delirious, your eyes sting when he stands you up holinging you when he steps into the cold tub, sitting down and bringing you with him.

Tears sting your eyes, your body feels like it's going to explode when he submerges your legs and waist underneath the freezing water.

"Sylus I'm freezing I can't." You grip his arm with whatever strength you have left trying to move from him but he holds you in place, putting it further into the tub to cool you down.

"I know, but I can't let you go until you cool down sweetie." He whispers, his arms caging you in, one holding your shoulders down his other holding your waist. Your back flat against his chest as he pushes you back into him by your torso.

“Please Sylus, please let me go, I can't please don't do this.” you plead your throat raw as you kick your legs trying your absolute hardest to get away. It hurts so much.

Sylus feels pain so sharp in his chest at your pleading tone. But he can't let you go yet, not until he's sure you're cooled off, until he feels your body temperature go back to normal.

His shaky hands steady when your thrashing stops.

"Sylus I don't feel- I'm so cold." You heave, head falling back into his chest as exhaustion takes over from the body aches to your high fever and getting attacked plus crying was taking a huge toll on you.

Hot tears run down your face as you take in deep breaths, Sylus' big warm hands rubbing your arms soothing you, shushing you as he rocks you back and forth. "I'm here, I have you ok sweetie. You're not alone." He assures pulling you impossibly closer.

He feels your breathing even and soon your head slumps forward. His firm hand grabs your face but you don't respond, for a second he internally panics but he feels your pulse steady and rhythmic to his own. You've finally cooled down after about ten minutes of being here, now he needs to get you changed and some medicine, you're not going out of his sight until he sees you get better himself.

Your eyes crack open, the dim room surrounding you making your eyes widen in seconds.

Your body shoots up frantically, head spinning as your hands rub your temples. You realize you're in Sylus' hideout or to be more exact, Sylus' room.

Looking around for the man in question you realize you're alone, so you stand. Pain shoots through your torso and shoulder making you hiss as you take a few steps. The last thing you remember was feeling cold, so damn cold.

You take a few steps when the door opens gently catching you making your way across the room.

Before you can even turn to see who it is, a pair of arms firmly grabs your waist and a second later you're being thrown over a broad shoulder.

"Ah HEY-" a surprised yelp escapes your lips at the sudden movement. A strong arm holds you up effetlessly.

Looking down at the man who just tossed you like a sack of potatoes you feel no discomfort, he's holding you so gently despite your body being in so much pain.

"I take my eyes off you for one second kitten, and you're already trying to sneak away." He jokingly clicks his tongue as his head shakes.

He stops in front of the bed, letting you down as if you're made of glass. Setting a tray of food down on the bedside table.

"What happened? How long have I been out?" You ask, looking up at him seeing his eyebrow quirk up.

"Two days. All because certain stray cat decided to bare her fangs in the face of danger when she wasn't feeling so well. Tell me Ms Hunter, is that a smart thing to do now?" He questions, grabbing the chair next to the bed, moving it to sit right in front of you.

Looking at him you can't even defend yourself, you know how reckless that was yet you still pushed yourself.

"Sorry you had to see that." You speak up, voice still a bit horse biting the inside of your cheek as his eyes stare into the depths of your soul.

Sulys may look calm on the outside but inside he's a mess. He was so worried, it's been two days of you fighting such a high fever and you're finally going back to normal, he's so relieved to see your eyes he loves so much open, looking at him with such tenderness despite you being sick for so long.

His eyes soften when you look into his, he moves in closer, arms caging you in both sides of your legs.

"Never do that again, please come to me and lean on me if you're wounded or don't feel good. You don't have to shoulder the burden all by yourself anymore. You have me." Sylus' voice is so soft, his hand coming up to your forehead to feel the temperature.

"I feel fine now-"

"You still feel warm sweetie, what's the matter?" He questions, leaning in closer, feeling his breath fan over your face, you feel yourself shrink under his intense gaze.

"I can't help it, it's warm right now." You hold his gaze, the corners of his lips lifting up seeing the light pink dust across your face.

"Get comfortable sweetie, you're not leaving my side for a while. You need to eat." He whispers, standing up to give you space before placing a kiss on your forehead.

Before he can take another step you reach for his arm, pulling him back a bit making him stop fully turning back to you, eyes looking into yours as you try to find the right words.

“You don't have to leave, please I don't want to be alone.” You confess, making him sit back down grabbing the soup he made for you, blowing on the spoonful of soup. You ask him to stay and he will, he needs no other excuse.

Sylus blows the steaming spoon a few more times before slowly lifting it to your lips. “Eat, you need food.” He speaks softly. Eyes trained on your movement. You oblige, opening your mouth accepting the spoonful of warm delicious soup.

“Thank you, for shouldering the burden of caring for me. You can lean on me too no matter what, ok? I'm always here for you too no matter what Sy.” You speak up, as he puts the spoon back in for another spoonful. You sit up straighter, your resolve in your eyes shows him you mean every word you say and he feels his heart beat faster.

In one swift movement he’s in front of you leaning down again, hand holding your face as he leans in. “Those words are tempting, keep your promise and I’ll be here forever sweetie.” He whispers, eyes holding such intensity as he speaks. His eyes stare at your lips making you swallow nervously. He's so close you can smell his intoxicating scent. You almost close the distance but he softly kisses your cheek before pulling back.

“You need to get more rest, you’re not fully recovered.” He holds back, he has to. As much as he'd love to hold you and have his way with you, he knows your health and you recovering fully comes first. “Now open up,” he turns back to the soup, grabbing another spoonful before looking back at you. “You're not going anywhere until you finish your soup and get more rest I advise you to get comfortable sweetie.”

________________

authors note: HALLOOO MY LOVLIESSSS HOW IVE MISSED YOU SO!!!!(≧▽≦) Im back and with a LOVE AND DEEPSPACE FIC OH MY GOSH!!(^o^) I've been wanting to write for the LADS boys for sosososo long and I finally did it!! I'm a sylus girly though and through though zayne is close second so I wrote for my number one! I hope you all enjoy the fic and I hope you're all taking care, mwahhhh^~^<333 (DISCLAIMER!!!! this is not revised or edited, sorry for any errors!!! THIS IS ALSO NOT RECOMMEND TO DO, DO NOT DO THIS ID YOU'RE SICK!!)

[blueberrytrickster]

Oops, sorry! (Drabble; LADS)

NSFW, 18+ MDNI

Description: All the LIs walking in on you naked by accident / pre-dating.

WC: 0.6k

Okay so I had a funny thought. Idk if this even "counts" as a drabble (in my usual style/vibe), but oh well. Been a minute since I've posted a drabble, enjoy! (Tame, but NSFW nonetheless.) (First drabble including our wolf...🥺)

- Blueberry જ⁀➴ ৻ꪆ (Masterlist)

Xavier IDK so funny I feel like he’d instantly look up at the ceiling and start??? Whistling lmao, or humming idk, and just slowly turn on his heel until he’s done a 180. You’re like??? Bro just walked out of a cartoon doing some goofy ass shit trying to be nonchalant. He totally saw before you processed him there and he’s just :o but as soon as you turn, he’s snapping his eyes to the ceiling and turning. “Xavier!” “What? I didn’t see anything, promise.” SNEAKY SNEAKY LIAR!!! Fighting to get naked himself and jump you.

Rafayel He’d fall on the floor and then stab his eyes out. LMAO, kidding. But no seriously, I think he’d nearly shriek, stare at your tits and be like “SORRY!” and then just keep staring until you yell at him LOL. Maybe you throw something at him and when he just lets the object bounce off his chest and doesn’t immediately react, “Rafayel! Would you—!” “Sorry!” As soon as the door closes, you’d hear him on the other side, “OH MY GOD!” He’d legitimately freak out and never shut up about it. Your tits are now burned into his brain and he’s ruined. “Miss Bodyguard, remember when—” “Shut up!”

Zayne LMAO this aloof kuudere asshat. He’d take SUCH a quick scan you wouldn’t even be able to process it, say nothing, WOULDN’T EMOTE (his eyes would BARELY twitch), walk away immediately, and shut the door behind him. LIKE lmao doctor mode activated he saw nothing until he’s stuck dreaming about it. He’s gone before you can even gasp because of his presence. If you turn quick though, he’s stealing a glance at your ass that’s FOR SURE. Despite not emoting in the moment, his cute rapid twitchy blinks would be BAD the next several times you see him after this.

Sylus OOF this one is my favorite. He’s on some Damon Salvatore energy (IYKYK.) He would HOLD your eye contact, STEADFAST. He wouldn’t say a thing, just stare into your eyes, not looking at your body once. Slowly, he’d reach for a towel/robe/etc. and throw it at you. You’re flustered as shit and what’s he doing??? OH. Smirking, but of course. He’d stand there until you covered up, saying some smart ass shit like, “You don’t have to be naked to get my attention, kitten.” “You—!”

Caleb Similar to Raf, straight up going to fall over and die. I feel like he’d blame you for it. “Pips, what the fuck!” And you’re like DUDE!!! You walked in here and didn’t knock??? He’s like a broken machine just teetering back and forth on his heel…look? Don’t look! Look? Don’t fucking look!!! He may even pretend to cover his eyes with his hand BUT 100% sneaks a peak through his fingers until you’re screaming at him, “Get out!!!” Like Raf, maybe you throw something at him if you catch him looking. It’s so funny to me to picture throwing SEVERAL things at him, whatever’s close by you at him and the door again and again until it closes. “Ow, pips! Okay, okay! Ow! I’m—ow! Going!” Almost shut, it creaks partially open, “I’m sor—” you throw something else, “OUT!” He nearly slams it to avoid what you threw, letting whatever it was hit the door. (Jacks off IMMEDIATELY after.)

Valko IDK super cute puppy about it, the most apologetic, “Holy—oh my god! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I—” He’d stare down at the floor immediately BUT 100% saw and is blushing like crazy. LIKE very abashed and cute about it, so much so you think it’s SO cute and him being polite and flustered makes you internally be like WAIT come back, wanna look? LMAO. HEAD DOWN (like a good boy) “I—I’ll—I’m s-sorry—” Once he’s gone, you’re BLUSHING and beyond the door you hear again, “I’m so sorry!” He’d stand there a second like !!!???????!!!!! Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard!!! He’d need a run or a workout after this.

[omiisangel]

jester!gojo x princess

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