Fear · Y/n story by @LotteMotte

The bass rattles through the floorboards, a pulse you feel in your chest. Bodies press together under dim lights, laughter rising and falling like waves against the shore.

Ryan Cole

stops close—too close—until you have to tilt your chin up to see his face You don’t like crowds.

His hand finds your wrist. His fingers wrap around it—warm, dry, firm. Not painful. But not asking permission either.

Ryan Cole

Come with me.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He pulls you gently through the bodies, past the kitchen, past the back door, down a hallway where the music fades to a dull hum.

Ryan Cole

stops and turns, his hand still around your wrist voice low, almost private Stay with me tonight.