#Even if it's not really there much anymore

[greengoblinswifey]

Fatal Attraction

pairing— The Salesman x Recruiter!Reader

summary— You and the Salesman share an undeniable attraction that’s filled with playful banter and sexual chemistry, despite the risks of being involved as recruiters for the Squid Game. It eventually boils over in a way you didn’t expect. based on this request.

warnings— sexual tension, flirting, jealousy, switch!salesman, manipulation, groping, slight voyeurism, thigh riding, praise kink.

a/n— part 2?🤭

The evening air was cloudy as the city hummed around you. Dressed in a chic black dress that hugged your figure and a pair of sleek red bottom heels, you walked through the dimly lit streets with an air of effortless confidence. Your black curls cascaded over your shoulders, catching the light as you moved, each step commanding attention. The world around you seemed to part as men turned their heads, unable to resist the allure you exuded.

You smirked, feeling the eyes on you. Most of the time, you didn’t need to say a word. They came to you. A flirtatious smile was all it took, and you knew that by the time they left, they'd be clutching the game card in their hands, their minds already made up. It was easy, really. Your beauty and charm were weapons, subtle but deadly, and you wielded them with precision. It was no wonder they hired you.

Behind you, the Salesman was watching. His gaze followed you, a mix of admiration and something else, something darker? He’d always been fascinated by you, but you knew he wouldn’t admit it. His competitive streak ran deep, and that was what made the dynamic between the two of you so—interesting. You had a way of making him lose focus, just for a moment, and he hated how much he liked it.

“Are you always this distracting?” he asked. He stepped closer, his presence almost predatory as you felt his eyes linger on you for too long.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you teased.

He narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed but intrigued at the same time. “You're making it hard for me to concentrate,” he said.

You leaned in just enough to feel the heat between you, brushing past him sultry, making sure to brush your ass against hun. “Well,” you said, your voice a whisper, “maybe you just need to focus more.”

The way his jaw tightened gave you a little thrill. He wasn’t used to being the one distracted, but there you were, effortlessly captivating him. He hated that you had this power over him, but at the same time, it only fueled his need to be around you.

As you approached a group of lower class men, you effortlessly captured their attention, your words emphasized as you explained the game to them, each one of them hanging on your every word. They didn’t even care about the money anymore, they were entranced by you, by the way you spoke, the way you looked, the way your eyes sparkled with mystery.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the Salesman’s narrowed eyes. There was a flicker of jealousy there, and you smiled to yourself. He was usually so composed, so in control, but when it came to you, it was clear he was a little off balance.

As you handed the last card to a willing participant, you turned back toward him, catching frustration in his eyes. “You’re still looking at my ass,” you noted. “Is there something you want to say?”

His eyes flickered to yours, something passing between you, but instead of responding immediately, he took a step closer, cornering you against a nearby wall. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, the world around you both seemed to fade away.

“We need to focus,” you said, your voice a mix of teasing and determination. You could feel his body heat radiating against yours, and for just a second, you almost let go. But the chemistry between you two was a game of its own, one you weren’t ready to lose yet.

His lips hovered inches from yours, but you moved away just in time, leaving him wanting more, the silent promise of what could be lingering in the air between you. You walked away, leaving him there, caught between frustration and fascination.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was a smile at his lips. He couldn’t stay mad at you for long.

“You love it,” you called over your shoulder with a wink, and he couldn’t argue with that.

The bustling subway platform crowded, filled with footsteps, idle chatter, and the occasional rumble of an approaching train. You stood poised, elegant as ever while the Salesman stood nearby, his briefcase in hand and his usual smirk in place, but even he couldn't deny that all eyes were on you.

“You’re making this too easy,” he said, his voice laced with amusement as he watched another man approach you, drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“Not my fault I have—certain advantages,” you replied, letting your hand drift over your tits for just a moment before returning to the man who had approached you.

The man stammered as you handed him a game card, your voice smooth as you explained the rules. He barely registered the words, too mesmerized by the way you leaned in just enough to catch his attention.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the Salesman watching, his expression a mixture of pride and annoyance.

“You’re going to spoil them,” he muttered under his breath as the man walked away, clutching the card like it was a love letter.

“Jealous?”

“Hardly,” he shot back, but the way his jaw tightened said otherwise.

As you moved through the station, you approached another potential recruit, a man sitting on a bench, his head in his hands. His clothes were old, his expression weary. You softened your approach, sitting beside him with a look of genuine concern.

“I couldn’t help but notice you look like you could use a fresh start,” you began, your voice gentle.

The man looked up, startled by your presence. His eyes widened as he took in your appearance, clearly caught off guard.

“It’s not easy, is it?” you continued, your tone having fake empathy. “But I can offer you something better. A chance to turn things around.”

By the time you handed him the card, the man was nodding eagerly, his despair replaced by a spark of hope.

The Salesman watched from a distance, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re a witch,” he said when you returned to his side. “The way you manipulate people—it’s almost unfair.”

“Takes one to know one,” you said smiling.

Later that evening, the two of you stood in a crowded peak, each of you scanning the crowd for potential players. He approached a group of men, his signature ddakji tiles in hand. “Care for a game?” he offered, his tone inviting.

The men glanced at him, then at you, their interest shifting immediately.

“Actually, we’d rather play with her,” one of them said, his gaze fixed on you.

You smirked, stepping closer to the Salesman and leaning in just enough to make him flinch. “Looks like you’ve got competition,” you whispered.

“Careful, or I might start charging for your services,” he retorted.

As the men prepared to play, you caught the Salesman watching you again. You met his gaze, your lips curving into a sly smile. Then, almost unknowingly, you bit your bottom lip, letting the subtle action hang heavy in the air.

His eyes darkened, his composure slipping for just a moment before you stepped away, leaving him standing there, frustrated and wanting more.

During one particularly tense recruitment, a man you’d just handed a card to glanced between you and the Salesman, frowning. “You two, you should really sort out whatever this is,” he said, gesturing between you.

Without missing a beat, you turned to him. “What you need to sort out is that broke issue you have,”you retorted, leaving him sputtering as you walked away.

“You’re ruthless,” the Salesman laughed, shaking his head.

“And you love it,” you shot back, not even bothering to deny it.

As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves alone again, leaning against a railing overlooking the city. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his hand brushing against your arm. For a moment, it seemed like he might close the distance, but you stepped back, breaking the spell.

“Back up,” you snapped.

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “One day, you’re not going to walk away,” he said.

You smiled, turning away as your curls bounced with each step. “Good luck with that,” you called over your shoulder, leaving him to brew in his frustration once again.

Another evening at the busy train station, you and the Salesman stood on opposite sides of the platform, each scanning for potential recruits. You caught his eye briefly before a man in a tattered suit approached you. He didn’t hesitate to ask your name, his interest plain.

The Salesman watched from a distance as you gave the man a coy smile, tilting your head to send the perfect signal. The man eagerly accepted the card you handed him, and even after walking away, he kept glancing back at you.

“Showing off again?” the Salesman said as he finally approached.

“Not my fault,” you said with a shrug. “They just come to me.”

“They should try not flirting with you for once,” he muttered, his jaw tightening as his gaze darted to the men still watching you.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you laughed softly, leaning in for him to smell your perfume.

Later that night, the two of you walked back to the car after another successful round of recruitment. He was unusually quiet as you strolled under the streetlights, the faint sound of your heels breaking the silence.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He hesitated, then said, “I was just thinking, how do you do it?”

“Do what?”

He stopped walking and turned to face you. “Get everyone to fall at your feet like that.”

You tilted your head, a small smile on your lips. “It’s a gift. But don’t worry, you’re not immune.”

He shook his head, his smirk returning.

During one recruitment night, you and the Salesman found yourselves at a lounge. You moved effortlessly through the room, drawing attention without even trying. At the bar, a man offered to buy you a drink, and you accepted with a polite smile, leaning in to keep him hooked.

From across the room, the Salesman watched, his jaw clenching when the man leaned closer to whisper something in your ear. You laughed lightly, slipping the card into the man’s jacket pocket before walking away.

When you rejoined the Salesman, he raised an eyebrow. “Enjoy yourself?”

“Totally,” you replied, sipping the drink you had brought back with you.

“Next time, I’ll be the one buying you a drink,” He leaned in, his voice low.

You looked up at him, your lips curving into a playful smile. “If you’re lucky.”

One late night, as you were reviewing the day’s ‘victims’, a playful argument broke out between you two.

“You only got that guy at the park because I wasn’t there,” he teased, leaning against the table.

“Oh, please,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “He wouldn’t have looked at your ass twice.”

“Care to bet on that?”

You met his gaze, unfazed. “Fine. Loser buys dinner.”

“Deal.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, “You should practice your flirting first. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

Another evening you stood on the busy street corner, your black dress and signature heels drawing stares as usual. A potential recruit leaned lazily against a lamppost, his attitude immediately grating.

“You think I’m fucking stupid enough to fall for this?” he sneered, flicking the card you handed him back toward you. His tone was sharp, his words laced with anger.

Your smile tightened, but you didn’t break your composure. “I wouldn’t say stupid, but if the shoe fits—”

The man stepped closer, his expression darkening. “Listen, woman, don’t test me. You think your little tricks work on everyone?”

Before you could respond, the Salesman appeared at your side, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the man. Without warning, his fist connected with the man’s jaw, sending him falling backward. The man scrambled to his feet, muttering curses as he stumbled away.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s my job to make sure you’re safe,” he replied firmly, his voice softer now as his eyes stayed on yours.

For the first time, you faltered. His protectiveness caught you off guard, leaving you unsure of what to say.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “How about dinner?”

“Sure, what the hell.”

The restaurant was cozy and dimly lit, a bit romantic. You sat across from him, sipping your wine as laughter filled your small talk. For the first time, the banter felt easy, natural.

The waitress arrived to refill your drinks and smiled warmly at the two of you. “You two make a great couple,” she said.

You opened your mouth to correct her, but the Salesman beat you to it. “Yes, we do,” he said, his grin almost asking you to challenge him.

You shot him a look, your eyebrow arching. He just shrugged, clearly enjoying himself.

As the meal continued, you slipped off your Louis Vuittons under the table, your stocking clad foot gliding toward him. You made contact with his leg first, and when he didn’t react, you moved higher.

His fork clattered against his plate when your toes brushed against his cock. He coughed, his eyes darting to yours.

“Careful,” you said, tilting your head innocently.

“What—what are you doing?” he stammered.

“What do you mean?” you asked, as if you had no idea what he was talking about.

His jaw clenched as he tried to maintain his composure, but you could see the cracks forming. “Act normal,” you murmured softly, your foot still teasing his cock. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know what we’re doing.”

He nodded stiffly, attempting to make small talk, but his sentences came out broken and stuttered. You held back a laugh, savoring his discomfort.

By the time the meal ended, you had stopped, sitting back in your chair and putting your heels back on with a satisfied smirk as he paid the bill.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, but the air between you was filled with more tension than usual. You placed your hand on his thigh, rubbing lightly as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Why are you so tense?” you asked.

“Don’t act dumb,” he muttered, his voice strained.

You giggled, sliding your hand higher until you reached his bulge. His sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed, and you leaned back in your seat, thoroughly enjoying yourself.

When you finally reached your apartment, he followed you inside, closing the door behind him. Before you could take another step, he spun you around and pressed you against the door, his hands braced on either side of your head.

His face was close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m sick of your games,” he growled. “It doesn’t matter what happens out there. In here, I’m in control.”

You bit your lip, your pulse quickening. “Yes, sir,” you murmured, your voice teasing.

That was all it took for his restraint to snap.

His lips crashed against yours. It was magnetic, a clash of sexual tension and pent up frustration. His hands framed your face as if you were going to slip away. Your arms went around his neck instinctively, drawing him closer. The world outside the apartment ceased to exist. His lips moved with a ferocity that made you forget every rule you were breaking.

Before you could even catch your breath, he lifted you effortlessly, his hands firm on your thighs as he carried you through the dimly lit apartment. His strength, his control, sent something through you. He didn’t hesitate, pushing open the door to the bedroom with his shoulder, and setting you down in his lap as he sank onto the edge of the bed.

You slowly began grinding on him, his hands moved to your waist, guiding you instinctively. “You always know how to push me, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips.

“Me? I think you’re the one who—”

He cut you off with a smirk, his grip tightening. “Ride my thigh,” he said suddenly.

Your heart beat faster. “W-what?” you stammered, caught off guard.

“You heard me,” he repeated, his dark gaze locking with yours. “Show me how much control you really have.”

Your breath hitched as his hands remained steady on your hips, guiding you forward. You hesitated, unsure if this was a line you should cross, but his touch, his words, it was consuming. Slowly, you moved on his thigh, the friction and the intimacy making your pulse quicken.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Just like that.”

His praise sent a thrill through you, but as the moment grew more intense, the reality of the situation began to creep in. Your hips moved back and forth and your head fell back as the pleasure began to build in a way you didn’t expect. You were leaking through your thong and stockings, staining his pants. His hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Cum on my thigh,” he whispered.

The coil in your abdomen snapped, your release hitting you like a truck, and you sagged against him, breathless and unsure how things had escalated this far. His arms wrapped around you as he steadied you, holding you close as the weight of what just happened sank in.

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, breaking the silence.

“No,” he agreed, his voice low. “But I’m not stopping.”

The rules echoed in your mind, the Front Man’s orders, the consequences if you were caught. You knew you were playing with fire, but there was no denying the pull between you.

“If he finds out,” you trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

His thumb brushed against your cheek as he met your gaze. “He won’t,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The words hung in the air, a reassurance and a promise all at once. You knew it wasn’t that simple, but in his arms, you felt obligated to believe.

[quarterlifekitty]

Something something bear!hybrid!Price something something breeding you full of his cubs…please?

I’m gonna do some RECYCLING here

Imagine Grizzly!Price introducing himself on the day you move in. And he’s never seen a bear like you before. You’re a bear for certain— the fluffy ears and tail, the scent of fruit and honey, it pulls out instincts he’d long forgotten about.

But you’re so little. And you have that funny little ring of fur around your neck. And that long tongue. And you can’t stand the cold. No hibernation instincts whatsoever.

A sun bear.

And he feels this tremendous itch when winter comes. He always feels this sort of dull ache— sleep is calling him. But he’s the kind of man who can’t help but keep an eye on everything going on around him. And you’re not prepping at all. Where are your crates of groceries? Your house has a cellar for God’s sake and he hasn’t seen anything go in there. Each time he sees you through your window, just enjoying yourself and ambling around the house— it’s like dry kindling is being tossed onto the embers around his heart.

He always felt this hard drive to nurture, to provide, to nest— he can’t stand seeing you so vulnerable and unprepared. And you’re so small! What’s going to happen once you get snowed in and you barely have enough to last you a week and a half?

Which is why he keeps coming around. Bringing his own things, preserves, jerky, canned goods— all under the guise of having “made too much”. Proving he has what it takes to care for you. You don’t really get it, he can tell from the look on your face, but you appreciate the treats.

He can’t get the image of you licking into a nearly empty jar of blueberry compote with your too long tongue out of his head. Of course his girl wouldn’t be wasteful.

Price only gets broodier as the dead of winter approaches. A blizzard is forecasted— and he all but demands that you stay at his place. He has a generator, firewood, a full larder— you don’t. You follow easily, like a dog rolling over to have its belly rub. What’s to protest?

He insists you sleep in his bed. Why waste the body heat when you could share? He barely has to prompt you before you’re rolling around, playing in his sheets, rubbing your scent everywhere. Sun bears mate year round, so you always smell just a little ripe and juicy— and it drives him crazy.

Having you in his bed, keeping you warm, feeding you…. It pushes him into that state of mind. You’re not in a man’s house anymore, you’re in a bear’s den, and his body knows what comes in spring, even if yours doesn’t.

He grinds up against you in his half-asleep daze, his nose buried in your neck as he mutters about what you’ll look like all fat and happy from overwintering with his cubs inside you. You might be a bit too small to take his cock at first, and it might be a bit of struggle to carry his brood, but you’ll have him to get you ready. He’ll look after you every step of the way, so just don’t worry your pretty head about it, ok?

[woniedarlin]

He listens while you yap

pairings: boyfriend! enhypen x reader | listener x yapper trope

caution: be prepared for their randomness (•‿•)

author's note: This is my first time trying something like this, and I thought, why not switch things up? If you enjoyed it and want more like this, just let me know! Happy reading!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

HEESEUNG

You explained an article you found earlier and made an especially interesting point. “So, apparently, there’s this theory about how—wait, are you even listening?” you paused mid-sentence then glancing up at Heeseung.

He was just staring at you the entire time.

“Am I talking too much?” you asked, feeling embarrassed. Was he bored? You might have been talking for hours...well, you were.

“I’m sorry,” you added. Feeling guilty.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly. His lips formed a gentle smile that quickly made you feel comfortable. “No, not at all. I’m just listening,” he said gently. “You always have the most interesting things to say.”

You blinked. For a moment, you were caught off guard by his words.. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I’m just rambling about random stuff half the time.”

He chuckled softly while shaking his head. “Not to me. You make even the most ordinary things sound extraordinary. Like you’re breathing life into them.”

“Come on, that’s a bit much,” you teased though you were shy with his words.

He shook his head slowly. “It’s not. You could talk about the lifespan of jellyfish, and I’d still want to hear every word.”

You laughed. “Seriously? Jellyfish?”

“Yup,” he said with a grin. Heeseung’s eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t think you realize how much I enjoy hearing you talk.”

You looked at him for a moment. Your laughter turned into a warmer feeling. “You always know how to make me feel special, right?”

Heeseung smiled more. “I’m just telling the truth. You’re the one who makes everything feel special.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but grin. “You’re too good at this, you know. No wonder everyone’s always talking about how sweet you are.”

He lightly shrugged. “Only for you.”

JAY

You plopped down next to Jay on the couch, “Last night, I dreamed I was a bottle of ketchup,” you said, not even glancing at him.

Jay didn’t even look up from what he was doing, though you knew he was listening. “Oh?”

“Yeah. And you were mustard. Which is weird because you’re usually mayonnaise in my dreams.” You said it matter-of-factly.

Jay glanced over at you and gave a small smile. Your boyfriend didn’t even question it anymore.

“Mhm. We were sitting on a picnic table, minding our own business,” you continued, staring blankly ahead. “Then this kid comes over, grabs you, and squeezes you all over a hot dog.”

“Of course,” Jay muttered, his smile still there.

“And then they grabbed me and put me on french fries,” you said, your voice now lighter. “But even though we were on different foods, we ended up on the same plate.”

Jay gave you a soft look. “Of course you did.”

“Yup. It’s like… no matter what, we always end up together,” you said nonchalantly. “Even if we’re on different things, we’ll always end up on the same plate.”

Jay didn’t react much, just looking at you with that same fond smile. “Ketchup and mustard, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

“Yep.” You nodded as if you were completely confident in the analogy. “It’s like fate, you know?”

Jay leaned back. “Fate. Of course. You’re the ketchup, and I’m the mustard.”

“Exactly,” you said, kicking your legs a little. “I mean, I’m obviously the star of the show, but you do make a good sidekick.”

Jay laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head. “You’re the star, hm?”

“Of course,” you said, completely unfazed, “but you still belong next to me.”

“Right,” Jay replied with a small, affectionate smile. “Next to you, always.”

And just like that, he continues to look at you with the same smile as you continue to talk, absolutely in love with you.

JAKE

You were pacing around the room, hands gesturing wildly as you went off about the movie you’d just watched. “And don’t even get me started on the plot twist—like, I saw it coming from a mile away! But, still, how could they—ugh, I can’t wrap my head around it!”

Jake sat on the couch with one arm stretched across the backrest. “Go on, tell me more,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing.

“Okay, but can we talk about that scene? The main character falls—of course—and she’s like, ‘Save yourself!’” You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Like, girl, what? Just get up! Run with your friend! Why are you making it so dramatic?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly holding back a laugh.

You kept going, utterly oblivious to his gaze. “I mean, realistically, if I fall, I’m grabbing your arm and dragging you down with me. We’re both going down. There’s no ‘save yourself’ moment. You’re coming with me.”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “Good to know.”

“And the friend?” you continued, throwing your hands up. “She’s just standing there, like, ‘Noooo!’ for too long. Like, hello? Help her up and run!”

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’d definitely survive in a movie.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, pointing at him. “I’m not wasting time with emotional goodbyes. We’re both making it out, or no one is.”

Jake grinned, his voice dropping just slightly. “So, you’d save me?”

You froze for a second before narrowing your eyes. “Obviously. I’d even ensure you didn’t trip in the first place.”

He laughed softly. “And here I was, thinking you’d be the one tripping on purpose just to get me to catch you.”

Your jaw dropped. “I would NOT!”

Jake smirked. “You totally would.”

“I’d be saving both of us!”

“You’re hot,”

You froze. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said.

Of course, he had to flirt.

You crossed your arms tighter, fighting back a smile. “Okay… what? That’s random. You’re distracting me.”

“That’s kind of my thing, isn’t it?” Jake grinned wider, tilting his head. “Admit it, baby.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” But the way your heart fluttered at his words? You couldn’t deny it.

SUNGHOON

You paced around the room as you got lost in recounting the day. “And I visited my parents today! I missed them so much…it was the best.”

Finally, you stopped mid-stride and turned to face him, hands on your hips. “Okay, are you even listening? Or are you zoning out again?”

You have seen your boyfriend zoning out often, especially in the mornings. You wouldn’t be surprised if today were one of those days.

But he chuckled softly, wanting to assure you. “I’m listening. I always do.”

You tilted your head. “Even when I’m rambling about stuff that’s probably unimportant?”

“Especially then,” he said, his dimples appearing as his smile grew wider. “I like hearing you talk. It makes me happy.”

Your arms crossed, though you couldn’t fight the grin pulling at your lips. “You like when I yap on and on?”

“Not the yapping part,” Sunghoon teased. “It’s the way you’re so happy when you talk. You’re glowing, and I can’t look away.”

That made your cheeks heat up. “I’m just telling you about my day.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But you light up when you talk about the things you love. I could listen to you all day. It’s comforting.”

“Comforting?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. Oh?

He nodded as his eyes began to soften. “Yeah. It’s like you’re letting me see a part of you no one else does.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “I never thought I’d be comforting while going on about my life.”

Sunghoon’s smile grew. “You’d be surprised.”

SUNOO

“…and I don’t even know why they didn’t just say that in the first place! Would it have been so hard? Honestly…” you trailed off, glancing at Sunoo, watching you with the softest smile.

You blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asked, his smile widening.

“Like you’re completely entertained by my nonsense.”

“Because I am,” Sunoo admitted without hesitation. “I love it when you yap.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yap?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You go off about the most random things, and I love it. It’s my favorite background noise.”

You playfully gasped. “Background noise? You’re saying I’m noise?” How dare he?!

“Sweet noise,” he corrected, grinning cheekily. “The kind I never want to tune out.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the blush on your cheeks. “So you want me to keep going?”

Sunoo nodded eagerly. “Of course! Why do you think I never interrupt you?”

Tilting your head, suspicious. “What if I talk about like….I don’t know... talk about socks?”

He laughed softly. “You don’t realize how cute you are when you get all caught up in your little stories.”

You tried to fight the smile tugging at your lips but gave up quickly. “Fine. But you’re stuck with me talking forever.”

Sunoo’s eyes sparkled. “Lucky me.”

JUNGWON

You were sprawled on the carpet while Jungwon sat next to you, quietly listening with that ever-patient expression.

“…and I don’t get it! Why would you even bring a cat to a grocery store? What’s the cat gonna do? Pick out your produce?” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “Next thing you know, they’ll be pushing their pets in carts like it’s totally normal.”

Jungwon blinked at you. You can see his lips twitching.

You squinted. “You’re holding back a laugh, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said, lips pressed together tightly.

“Yes, you are!” You pointed at him accusingly. “You’re trying so hard not to laugh right now.”

He cracked. His shoulders shook as he let out a small giggle. But then it escalated. His hand flew to his stomach, and he was laughing so hard that he tipped backward.

“HAHAHAHAHA OH MY—AHHHH HA HA HA HA!”

You sat there, wide-eyed. “Is it that funny?”

He nodded, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. “It’s not even the story! It’s you! You’re so serious about the ridiculous things—AHHH HA HA AHH HAHA—I can’t!”

You crossed your arms, pouting. “I was making a valid point.”

“I know, I know!” Jungwon wheezed, wiping his eyes. “But you looked so offended! Like, personally attacked by the cat in the store.”

“Well, someone had to say it!”

Jungwon shook his head. “You’re too much.”

You huffed. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me,” he teased, his laughter finally calming down.

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “Maybe.”

“Definitely,” he said, still grinning. “Now, please. Keep going. I need another good laugh.”

NI-KI

You were going on about how your day went, and Ni-ki, leaning against the doorframe, watched you as he kept grinning. He wasn’t saying much but teasing you with every detail you mentioned. “Wow, you don’t stop talking, huh?” Ni-ki said with a smirk.

You raised an eyebrow. You do not want to back down. Especially to him. “I’m just sharing my day, okay? You don’t have to listen if it’s too much.”

“Oh, I’m listening,” Ni-ki said as he stepped forward. “I just didn’t know you had this much to say. You’ve been talking for hours, baby.”

You shot him a look, unfazed. “Oh, please. You know I talk plenty, just not to you.”

Ni-ki chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking over to you. “I think you talk to me more than you realize. You just don’t want to admit it.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I don’t know about that.”

“Uh-huh. You’re giving me the full lecture today. You can’t hide it,” he teased. “And honestly, I’m enjoying it.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to act indifferent. “Of course you are; you love it when I talk.”

Ni-ki shrugged dramatically. “Guilty as charged. Your yapping is one of my favorite things. Keeps me entertained.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how easily he could get under your skin, even with his teasing. “Well, I hope you’re ready for more because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

“Bring it on,” Ni-ki said with a wink, clearly looking forward to hearing all of it.

[aemrsy]

𝐍𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐚

─────────⊹⊱❀⊰⊹──────────

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 (𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑𝟎) 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

─────────⊹⊱❀⊰⊹──────────

You don't think you've ever been in a room this quiet before. It almost felt like the silence that would surround you underwater, no it was worse, quieter. You looked down at the white shoes they'd put you in. They definitely weren't white anymore. Did they do that on purpose? To torment you? As if the smell of it constantly wasn't enough, now it was on your shoes and clothes.

You desperately tried to wipe yourself clean of the red stains, "please, please." the words repeated over and over again like a mantra in your brain. Your eyes burned and your vision blurred up with tears. This was it, you could feel a sob bubbling up in your chest. You needed to get out.

Your bottom lip quivered making a slight opening enough for your sob to escape through and break the silence, but before that could happen you heard a loud alarm it made your ears ring it was almost painful. You jumped, not having heard anything since the last game.. god could you even call it that?.. This was horrible.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder, since the first game your body had been on high alert so naturally your head snapped up your body pulling itself back a little in defense.

Your body relaxed a little once you saw him, Choi su-bong. He was the center of your world when you two were younger there wasn't a day that went by without him, he was practically family. His parents weren't always the best so you could recall times when he would spend months at your place your parents would've done anything to protect him,

but like every childhood friendship you two fell out. it's hard to say when but you two hadn't talked since the early years of middle school.

Seeing him here was a shock, you couldn't muster up the courage to talk to him at all yet. There was nothing to say. Not in your current situation.

"You need to eat.." He said softly, looking at you as if you'd break if his gaze was any less gentler. He sat down next to you keeping a small distance between the two of you.

You almost scoffed at that. "Eat?.. You can't be serious su-bong." Needless to say you didn't have an appetite. You looked over at the line forming infront of the guards that were handing out trays of food.

He smiled looking down and then back up at you "Come on.. you need to keep your strength up for the next game." He reached over, moving slowly and tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear, a habit he'd picked up from when you were kids. You didn't like your hair getting in your face at all, he knew that.

Subconsciously you moved a little closer to him. There was so much that you wanted to say to him so when you started opening your mouth you weren't really sure what was about to come out.

"I miss you" of course.. you're quite literally in a life and death situation but that's the first thing your brain decided on.

he looked into your eyes and when you looked into his for a second you could see the younger version of him that you loved so deeply. A version of him without the purple hair and all the firey attitude. You saw him for who he was and you wished that everyone in here could see the same pure boy that you did.

You thought that maybe he saw something similar in your own eyes because he didn't say anything back instead he pulled you in and you found yourself pressed up against his chest.

You grabbed fistfuls of the back of his tracksuit jacket closing your eyes and as sick as it may sound you felt safe. In this god awful place you thought you'd never feel that way.

"What are you doing here?.." You said looking up at him with worried eyes.

"I could ask you the same thing.." He fired back. You didn't like his tone but you answered anyway.

"I'm not good at managing my money.. After i got fired from the only job that would hire me.. i couldn't find another one, and everything that i had saved.. Gone in a few weeks."

He nodded along as you spoke pursing his lips together.

"No but seriously, what are you doing here?.. from what i've seen, your life is going great.. 'Thanos'.."

He shook his head a bitter smile forming on his face.

"Fame doesn't always equal money.. i'm in debt."

The way he kept his answer so short made you wonder if there's more that he didn't want to tell you but you didn't push.

He looked down at your face gently rubbing your arm as he spoke.

"i miss you too.. alot, i'm sorry i didn't reach out.. i just didn't know what to say you know?.. i didn't know where to start.."

You nodded you knew that feeling all to well.

"I know.. i felt the same way."

He squeezed your arm a little. When he looked over at the line he'd realized it had gotten alot shorter so he excused himself before going over and grabbing his tray, he wasn't very hungry himself but he needed to get you to eat something.

He made his way back over and set the tray down infront of you.

"Come on.. just a couple bites."

With him around you felt a little more comfortable eating he was a great distraction from everything going on around you.

You ate in silence and he ate some too, he wanted to encourage you.

"So, should i start calling you thanos too?"

He furrowed his eyebrows chuckling but the look you gave him said it was a genuine question.

"No way, It sounds so weird coming from you.. you can stick to my real name.." He handed you the milk gesturing for you to drink up.

"Actually it's nice that you still call me by my real name.. you're different from them y'know?, the best parts of my childhood are tied to you.. i owe it all to you.. Seriously, you mean so much to me, i want you to know that okay?.. we'll stick together in here"

You nodded setting the milk down on the tray. You did think it was nice that you could call him something that seprated you from everone else.

The way he worded that last part though made you a little anxious, 'we'll stick together in here' What about when you're out of here?.. No, you couldn't lose him again.

"Hey, we're gonna be okay, we'll make it out, and as soon as we pay off our debts we'll go somewhere nice.. like we talked about when we were younger remember?.."

As kids you two had always dreamt about traveling, you'd watch the planes go by during recess and talk about where you think it's headed and where you'd want to go, back then everything seemed possible.

"i'm scared.." you whispered, he put his hand on your cheek. You had doubts that you'd even make it out of here to see if he'd stick to his word.

"I'm here.. we'll get through it together, you're safe with me.. you're safe."

his thumb stroked your cheek and you closed your eyes putting your hand on his and pressing it a little further into your cheek, craving the warmth of his palm on your skin.

"i love you.."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"i love you too.. always."

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[secretmaniacc]

FILL THE VOID

Pairings: the salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: After avoiding him for two days, she finds herself pinned down as he insists they go out to dinner, just as he promised in their bet. Reluctantly agreeing, she anticipates an elegant evening, but the night quickly takes an exciting and dangerous turn.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, Dom!salesman x baddie!oc, teasing, degrading, kissing, gun play, Russian roulette, knife play, semi public sex, hair pulling, mentions of blood, oral sex, male recieving, p in v, rough sex, spanking.

Wc: 6.2k

A/n: so sorry for the wait here’s pt.2 for “ride or die” since some of y’all liked it and I’m very happy for that, did some justice this time and spiced it up they can be out of character sometime so forgive me, hope y’all will enjoy it really worked hard on this one, not proofread <3

For two days, she’d managed to avoid him—strategically timing her office hours to when he wasn’t there, ignoring his messages, and pretending not to notice the way he seemed to linger just out of reach. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up with her. 

That time came at the end of a long day when she thought she was safe. She gathered her things and prepared to turn around and head towards the door, only to feel a familiar presence.

“Thought you could avoid me forever?” His voice was low, smooth, and infuriatingly smug. 

Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag as she turned, schooling her features into something calm and unaffected. “I’m busy. Move.” 

He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Busy ignoring me? Impressive effort, but I don’t take silence well.” 

“I’m not ignoring you,” she lied, stepping forward to brush past him. 

His arm shot out, blocking her path. “Really? Then why haven’t you answered my messages? Or were you too busy pondering about how much fun we had in the alley?” 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she shot back, her tone clipped as she tried to push past him again. 

But this time, he shifted, moving to block her entirely and locking the door with a quick twist of his wrist. The faint click of the lock sent a chill down her spine, though she refused to show it. 

“Let me go,” she said, keeping her voice steady even as she felt her pulse quicken. 

He leaned back against the door, his arms crossed lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. “Not until we settle something.” 

She arched a brow, masking her unease with irritation. “And what’s so important that you’re resorting to theatrics?” 

His grin widened, his gaze sparkling with that insufferable confidence. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to take you to dinner, didn’t I? Unless, of course, you’d rather recall how I made you feel so good in the alley.” 

She blinked, caught off guard by the reminder. “That was two days ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“It matters to me.” He stepped closer, the teasing edge in his voice making her heart stutter. “You won, fair and square. So, dinner. Tonight.” 

“Not happening,” she said firmly, though the conviction in her voice wavered slightly. 

He tilted his head, studying her with mock curiosity. “Why so stubborn? Afraid you’ll enjoy it?” 

Her jaw tightened. “I’m just not interested.” 

“You’re lying.” 

She glared at him, determined not to let him see how her resolve faltered under the weight of his gaze. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re avoiding the truth,” he countered, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between them. “But that’s fine. Say no if you want—I’ll still show up outside your door.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, though the uncertainty in her voice made her doubt her own words. 

“Try me,” he challenged, his tone light but his intent clear. 

She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly in defeat. “Fine. One dinner. But don’t make a habit of this.” 

His grin broadened, a glimmer of triumph lighting up his face. “Perfect. Wear something elegant—something that’ll fit the place. I expect you’ll be just as stunning as you were in the alley” 

“Excuse me?” 

He ignored her indignation, leaning in close enough for his breath to ghost against her cheek. His lips brushed lightly against her skin, leaving behind the faintest trace of warmth. “See you tonight,” he murmured before stepping aside and unlocking the door. 

She stared at him, momentarily thrown by the unexpected gesture. The smug look on his face only made her irritation flare, and she pushed past him with a sharp, “Don’t be late.” 

As she walked away, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation. But the faint smile tugging at her lips told a different story. 

-----

She stood before the full-length mirror, the soft glow of her bedroom light catching the gentle shimmer of her crimson dress. The bodice hugged her figure like it was made for her, the delicate cowl neckline draping gracefully across her collarbones, while the fabric flowed into a silky skirt that brushed the floor with every subtle movement. Her long, black hair fell in effortless curls to her waist, framing her face with a touch of timeless elegance. A sheer wrap rested loosely on her arms, adding a layer of ethereal softness that seemed to dance with every step. 

Her phone buzzed on the dresser, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down to see his text: "I’ll be there in five." Letting out a small breath, she grabbed her purse, gave herself one last look, and headed downstairs. 

The evening air was cool as she stepped outside, heels clicking softly against the pavement. There he was, leaning casually against a sleek black Audi A6, its polished exterior gleaming under the streetlights. He wore a tailored black suit that framed his tall, broad figure perfectly, paired with a crisp white shirt and a black tie that added a sharp elegance to his appearance. His dark hair was neatly styled, though a rebellious strand fell over his forehead, softening his otherwise sharp features. 

As she approached, his gaze locked on her, a flicker of admiration crossing his face before he straightened and stepped toward her. Without a word, he took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice smooth yet sincere, his eyes holding hers for just a moment longer than necessary. 

A faint blush warmed her cheeks, but she managed a small, teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” 

His lips twitched into a smirk as he opened the passenger door for her, gesturing for her to step inside. 

She settled into the plush leather seat, the soft scent of new car and faint cologne filling the space. The interior was sleek, with polished silver accents and an impressive digital dashboard glowing faintly in the dim light. She trailed her fingers over the armrest, the comfort and luxury surprising her. 

“You own this?” she asked, glancing at him as he slipped into the driver’s seat, his hands confidently gripping the wheel. 

He chuckled softly. “Why? Did you think I’d show up in something less fitting?” 

She shook her head, amused but still impressed, as they drove in silence toward their destination.  He would make teasing comments here and there that earned a chuckle from her.

The car pulled up to one of the most elegant restaurants in town, its grand facade glowing with soft golden lights. Outside, a long line of patrons waited eagerly, some dressed to the nines, chatting in anticipation. 

Her brows lifted in surprise at the sight. “You didn’t mention this place,” she said, her voice laced with curiosity. 

Before he could respond, two security guards stepped forward, opening her door with practiced precision. One took the keys from him while the other escorted them toward the entrance. She noticed how the murmuring crowd shifted, heads turning as they walked past. 

The guards held the doors open as they entered, bowing slightly in his direction. She bowed back out of respect, but he merely did, wrapping his arm around her waist as they stepped into the opulent dining area. 

The restaurant was stunning. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in crisp white linens. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the city skyline, and a soft melody from a grand piano filled the air with an elegant ambiance. 

They were guided to a private table near the window, the staff pulling out her chair as she sat. As he took his seat across from her, she leaned in slightly, her tone playful. 

“Care to explain why everyone is treating you like you’re some mafia boss?” 

He chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her. “Let’s just say I know how to make an impression.” 

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “Oh, I’m sure you do.” 

The waitress approached with a professional yet warm smile, handing them menus. “Welcome. May I offer you something to start with?” 

She glanced at the menu, the luxurious options catching her off guard. “Are there any prices on this thing, or do we just guess?” she quipped, arching an eyebrow at him. 

He laughed softly. “Don’t worry, dinner’s on me. Feel free to splurge.” 

She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Good, because I was planning to order the most expensive thing just to annoy you.” 

“Be my guest,” he replied smoothly, his grin teasing. “But I hope you know that means dessert is non-negotiable.” 

her eyes scanning the intricate names of dishes written in french. Brows furrowed, she tilted the menu closer as if the words would magically make sense the second time around. 

“What is... uh, rat-a-tou-ille??” she sounded out slowly, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. 

His lips curved into an amused smile. “Ratatouille. It’s a vegetable dish—stewed with tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and herbs. Simple but classic..” 

“Oh, okay. That doesn’t sound too bad,” she nodded before her eyes caught another word. “And this one? Coq... au vin??” 

“Coq au vin” he corrected with a small laugh. “Chicken braised in red wine with mushrooms and bacon. Very traditional.”.” 

She tapped her chin with her finger, pretending to consider it seriously, then moved on to another dish. “Bou-ya... bouillabaisse?” 

“Bouillabaisse,” he supplied smoothly. “.It’s a fish stew with a mix of seafood, Want me to keep translating, or are you planning to make me read the whole menu for you?” 

She shot him a playful glare. “Hey, these names are intimidating, okay? I didn’t grow up speaking fluent…. Uh, whatever this is."

“french” he said, unable to suppress the laugh that bubbled out. “I have to admit, though, this clueless act of yours is kind of adorable.”

She rolled her eyes, heat rising to her cheeks. “Whatever. I’ll just stick to this one.” She pointed to a dish she didn’t recognize but liked the sound of. 

When he glanced at his menu filled with prices unlike hers, his smirk grew wider. “Interesting choice,” he mused, leaning back in his chair. 

“What?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Nothing,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh. “Just that it’s the cheapest thing on the menu.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” 

He nodded, still grinning. “Repick. Or I’ll do it for you.” 

She groaned, flipping through the menu again. “Fine. You pick.” 

He didn’t even look at her menu, already knowing it by heart. “Filet de boeuf Rossini,” he said confidently.

Her eyes widened slightly. “That sounds... fancy.”

“It’s perfect,” he replied with a wink. “Trust me.”

The waitress returned, taking his order for a sole meunière and hers for the beef Rossini. “And a bottle of Château d’Yquem,” he added casually.

When the waitress nodded and walked away, she raised an eyebrow. “Château d’Yquem? What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically.

Moments later, the waitress returned with a sleek silver ice bucket, placing it on the table with a bottle of golden wine nestled inside. The light caught the liquid, making it shimmer, and her eyes widened as realization hit.

“This is wine?” she asked, pointing to the bottle. 

“Not just any wine,” he said, pouring a glass with practiced ease. “It’s... exclusive.” 

“How exclusive?” she pressed.

He took a slow sip, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re drinking liquid gold?”

He laughed at her incredulous expression, his voice rich with amusement. “Relax. Tonight’s on me, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” he replied with a wink, setting his glass down.

Silence evoked as the air in the restaurant shimmered with quiet luxury, a symphony of muted chatter, piano tunes and crystal clinks filling the room. She leaned back against the chair, her delicate fingers tracing absent patterns on the edge of the table. Her gaze flickered toward the expansive window, the city lights sprawling like a living canvas. There was an effortless grace to her, the way her crimson dress caught the glow of the chandeliers, the silk shifting like liquid fire with her every move.

He couldn’t look away.

His pupils sharpened with intensity as he studied her, the soft curve of her jawline, the way her lips parted slightly as she sighed in quiet awe. Her black hair, cascading in soft curls to her waist, gleamed under the golden light. She was a vision, suspended somewhere between elegance and rebellion, her beauty a contradiction he couldn’t quite define but didn’t want to stop trying to.

She tilted her head, her profile catching the faint light of the chandelier, and his breath hitched. As he took a sip of his whiskey, the taste burned less than the thought that this moment—her, here, now—felt like something he shouldn’t deserve.

He smirked at himself, shaking his head slightly. Get a grip.

But then she glanced back at him, catching his stare, her brow arching in question. “What?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Nothing,” he replied, his smirk deepening as he set his glass down. “Just taking it all in.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the slight tug of a smile at the corner of her lips.

Moments later their food arrived, the rich aroma wafting from her plate made her mouth water. She picked up her fork, taking a cautious bite. The moment the tender beef hit her taste buds, her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft hum of delight escaped her lips. 

“This is... amazing,” she said, already diving in for another bite. 

He watched her, captivated by the way she was completely absorbed in her food. Every little sound she made—those happy, involuntary noises—pulled his attention. For a moment, the bustling restaurant around them disappeared, leaving only her. 

“You’re staring, again.” she said suddenly, snapping him out of his daze. 

“You make it hard not to,” he admitted with a small smile. 

She flushed, quickly taking another bite. “Just eat your food, so we can get done” she muttered. 

He chuckled, cutting into his fish. They settled into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging light banter between bites. At one point, she attempted to spear a piece of his fish with her fork, but he caught her wrist with a grin. 

“Ah, ah. That’s mine,” he teased. 

“Sharing is caring,” she retorted, but he held firm, playfully shaking his head. 

He shook his head with exaggerated defiance, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “You want it that bad? Beg for it.”

She narrowed her eyes, “‘Never mind,’” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she went back to eat.

He chuckled, leaning closer. “Come on, don’t act like you didn’t do it.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” she said, standing up abruptly and grabbing her bag.

He burst into laughter, his gaze never leaving her. “I’m messing with you,” he said, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling her back into the chair.

She shot him a glare, crossing her arms. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love it,” he replied, giving her an amused smirk.

She sighed, reaching for her glass of water. As her gaze drifted across the room, it landed on a couple at a nearby table—so engrossed in each other they might as well have been the only two people in the restaurant. The man’s hand rested on the small of the woman’s back, and their faces were inches apart, whispering between soft kisses.

Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Get a room,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

He followed her line of sight, his brow arching before a low chuckle escaped his lips. “Jealous?”

She snapped her head back to him, her eyes narrowing. “Jealous? Please. That’s gross. There’s a time and place for that sort of thing, and it’s not next to someone trying to enjoy a meal.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, clearly enjoying her reaction. “You’re awfully opinionated for someone who didn’t seem to mind when I kissed you.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly. “That was different!”

“Oh, was it?” he teased, his tone playfully smug. “Because if I recall, you were the one leaning in first.”

Her jaw dropped. “I was not! You were the one who couldn’t keep it together and kissed me like some—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Someone who’s not afraid to take a chance?”

She glared at him, struggling to find a comeback that wouldn’t dig her deeper into the hole. “You’re crazy,” she finally huffed, crossing her arms again.

“not as much as you,” he replied, his smirk softening just enough to make her annoyed

The unspoken tension hung like a storm cloud between them, unshakably present as they lingered in that charged moment. “Are you actually saying you wish you were that couple?” he asked, leaning in with a seriousness that made her heart constrict.

Her heart raced at his words, a flutter of uncertainty and curiosity mixing with annoyance. “I just think PDA is a bit much!” she shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “I mean, can’t people keep it to themselves?”

“Really?” he challenged, his voice low, brushing against her ear as he leaned closer. “Or maybe you’re just afraid of what it could feel like to let loose, to feel something real for once?”

Her breath caught in her throat as a rush of heat spread across her cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shot back, a desperate edge in her voice. She could feel the tension weave between them like a live wire, crackling with possibility.

“Maybe I do,” he replied, that daring glint in his eye making her pulse quicken. “Maybe you just need the right moment to let go.”

The couple at the table nearby erupted in laughter again, and she found herself glancing back at them, trying to refocus. But when she looked up, he was watching her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “Forget them,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, pulling her even further into his orbit. “What do you want? Something real? Or more of this… competition?”

Before she could formulate a response, he suddenly stood, extending a hand toward her. “Come with me.”

“Where?” she asked, hesitating but feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought of doing something entirely unexpected.

“A place where we can talk,” he replied, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “Unless you’re too scared to follow.”

With her heart racing and her mind swirling with uncertainty, she placed her hand in his. He led her through the restaurant’s bustling dining area, weaving through startled diners and busy waitstaff. But there was no turning back. The thrill of being drawn into the unknown ignited something within her.

They approached a door at the back of the restaurant, and she felt both exhilarated and apprehensive. He flung it open, and they stepped into a dimly lit hallway lined with fancy doors that seemed to whisper secrets.

“Seriously, where are we?” she asked, blinking in the low light as confusion mixed with an adrenaline high.

“Somewhere more private,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous, eyes flickering with mischief and something deeper. “We won’t be interrupted here.”

Her pulse raced, excitement and fear coiling in her stomach. “Is this your idea of romance?” she shot back, the challenge lacing her voice, even as heat coursed through her.

“Maybe it’s just my idea of taking risks,” he countered, stepping closer, the space between them charged in a way that made her skin tingle. “You might even enjoy it.”

The energy shifted as they stood beneath the dim glow of the overhead light, their breaths mingling in the tight space. She caught herself wanting to feel the weight of his words, the electricity in the air. “What if someone catches?” she asked, half playful and half serious, but the way he was looking at her made her thrill with curiosity.

“Let them,” he said, eyes smouldering, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between them. “Are you really going to back down now?”

She felt a rush of defiance surge within her, mixed with undeniable attraction. “I’m not afraid,” she said boldly, but her voice wavered slightly, betraying the thrill and lust she was trying to suppress.

“Then let’s find out how dangerous this might get,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, igniting the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

With that, he turned on his heel, pulling her deeper into the hall, and she felt her heart pounding with excitement and uncertainty. Each step into the unknown only drew them closer together, and she couldn't shake the thrill of what lay ahead—the thrilling uncertainty,

He paused in front of an ornate door that looked far more expensive than the rest, its golden handle glinting in the dim light. With a knowing smirk, he pushed it open, and she was met with an intoxicating scent—rich cologne mingling with something deeper, something intimate that tugged at her senses.

As they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The room was lavishly decorated, a blend of modern luxury and classic elegance. An oversized leather couch sat in the center along with a table, surrounded by walls adorned with vibrant artwork that seemed to pull her in. Warm lights cast a cozy glow, and a plush rug covered the floor, offering a sense of comfort veiled in sultriness.

“wow,” she breathed, taking in the opulence, momentarily forgetting the tension simmering between them.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, gesturing toward the couch. She hesitated for only a moment before obeying, settling into the soft fabric while he moved around the room, his gaze scanning various items scattered about—a vintage record player, a collection of intriguing books, and an array of exotic liquor bottles.

Stopping at a sleek display cabinet, he opened the door and pulled out a pistol, its silver surface gleaming in the warm light. A grin played across his lips as he turned to face her, an unsettling excitement dancing in his eyes.

“We’re going to play a game,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Russian roulette.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you serious?”

“Relax.” He waved his hand dismissively, the light glinting off the barrel. “Only this time, we’re playing with a twist. There’s only one bullet, and each time the gun goes off, we have to strip a piece of clothing.”

A mix of thrill and apprehension surged through her. “That’s insane.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his smirk deepening, “but wouldn’t it be fun?”

With a defiant spark in her eyes, she leaned forward. “Fine, let’s play.”

He sat across from her, the couch sinking slightly under his weight, and loaded the bullet into the chamber with a casualness that both intrigued and unnerved her. He spun the cylinder and brought the gun to his temple, pulling the trigger—click. He laughed, a dark sound that echoed in the room,

“Not so scary, right?” he teased, loosening his suit jacket. With a fluid motion, revealing a fitted dress shirt that clung to his frame, accentuating the muscular definition of his arms and shoulders. The sight made her pulse quicken

“Your turn.” He passed the gun to her.

She arched an eyebrow but took the gun, feeling its weight in her hand. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. She spun the cylinder herself, heart racing, and then pressed it to her temple. Click. A rush of relief washed over her.

“Now it’s time to shed that scarf,” he said with a teasing tone. With a quick, decisive movement, she untied the delicate fabric and let it fall to the floor, feeling freer, more emboldened.

“Here you go,” she responded, tossing the gun back to him. The tension was tangible as he caught it effortlessly.

filled with a languid confidence. “Ready?” He pressed the barrel once more to his temple—click. The sound rang through the air like a taunt, a challenge freighted with electricity.

“Lucky again,” he grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“What’s next? Your shirt?” she quipped, eager to see how far this would go.

His gaze flicked to her, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he loosens the tie taking it off, before he began to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt. With each button undone, the cloth pulled away to reveal the chiselled muscles of his torso, the defined lines and curves making her breathless. He threw the shirt aside, letting it flutter to the ground like a fallen banner of surrender.

She couldn’t help but take in the sight, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. she breathed, both impressed and challenged by the game they were playing.

“Like what you see? Now it’s your turn,” he teased, giving her the gun once more, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

She took the gun, spun the cylinder yet again, and pressed it against her temple—click. Relief flooded her, but the tension was palpable.

“Let’s play it safe,” she decided, slipping off her heels and leaving her feet bare on the plush rug beneath her. The contact with the soft Fibers felt grounding after the intensity of the game.

“Back to me,” he said, taking the gun from her hands once more. He spun the cylinder, glancing at her with that effortless chill. “Here we go.”

With a languid movement, he pressed the cold metal against his own temple, a shrug of confidence reflecting in his posture. He squeezed the trigger—click. The sound reverberated, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.

She felt a small knot of apprehension twist in her stomach. Could they keep going like this? The stakes were rising, and she felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

He turned to her, offering her the gun again. “Your turn. Only two triggers are left, make sure not to die.”

With a mixture of determination and nerve, she accepted the gun from him. Her heart raced as she spun the cylinder for what felt like the hundredth time.

He stood to remove his shoes, casually tossing them to the side. That simple act ignited something within her, a thrilling edge of power and vulnerability. Just as he prepared to sit down, she lunged forward with a sudden burst of resolve.

With a swift motion, she pinned him against the couch, the gun now aimed firmly at his chest.

"What’s the matter?" he teased, the laughter in his eyes shifting to something darker. “Afraid you will die?”

“Not a chance,” she challenged, taking a seat on his lap, her pulse racing. In a moment of reckless defiance, she kept the gun pointed at him. “You think this is a game?”

He laughed, a wild, psychotic sound that echoed against the walls. his hands resting firmly on her waist, the gun now pressed against his chest as he leaned in closer. “I love it when you take charge.”

“You’re going to regret underestimating me,” she said, catching a glimpse of the wild delight dancing in his eyes.

“so it’s Game over for me?” he taunted, his words dripping with boldness. His hands slowly wandered to her thighs, fingers teasing, sending pulses of electricity coursing through her. “Shame, really. I’d hate to die without pleasuring you.”

Her breath hitched at his insinuation, his cocky demeanour igniting an uncontrollable fire within her. The tension crackled like static in the air, urging her to respond.

“You wish.” she said, her voice wavering slightly with the rush of emotions surging through her.

With a fury of need and desire, she leaned in and captured his lips in a fervent kiss, their mouths colliding in an explosion of pent-up frustration and attraction. The world around them melted away as her heart raced. The moment was electric, and in the whirlwind of passion, she pulled the trigger.

But all that followed was a click.

The sound ricocheted in the silence between them, and her eyes widened in shock as she pulled away. The thrill morphed into a dizzying rush as realization struck—there had been no bullet, no fatal ending, only the raw, intoxicating energy swirling in the air between them.

That's when he took the gun from her hands, his movements quick and decisive, a spark of defiance in his eyes. With a swift motion, he tossed it across the room, the gun landing with a loud thud against the wall.

“If you wanted my tongue against you, then you’ve fucking earned it,” he spat, crashing their lips together in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging tightly, igniting a low groan that reverberated into her mouth.

"You wanted to fucking kill me, sweetheart," he growled, biting her bottom lip, eliciting a sharp whimper from her.

“It was your game,” she countered, the adrenaline pulsing through her like fire.

“And yet,” he replied, his voice dark and sultry, “I’d never kill you.”

“I wouldn’t either.” She pulled back, a smirk curving her lips as her eyes roamed over his swollen lips and messy hair, an enticing sight.

“So, why did you aim that gun at me? Say it.”

“Because I was too damn scared, you’d do it instead of me,” she admitted, feeling his grip on her loosen slightly.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you really know how to make a scene,” he murmured, his fingers deftly unbuckling his belt with confidence.

“Kneel,” he demanded, helping her rise before guiding her down so she knelt on the floor, her dress cascading around her like a waterfall.

“You want to act like a little slut? Then suck until your mouth isn’t filthy,” he spat, and she flashed him a smirk as she slid his pants down, revealing his hard on.

Her hand wrapped around the base of him, moving up and down slowly, the rhythm sending soft growls of pleasure from his lips. As she continued pumping back and forth, in a rhythmic pattern the more he strived for her lips.

“Did you not hear me? I said suck,” he snapped, frustration threading through his tone.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “You call me a slut yet can’t wait a moment longer?” With a teasing glimmer in her eyes, she leaned forward, taking his tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it while maintaining a steady rhythm with her hand. His breath hitched, a bead of sweat forming on his chest as he succumbed to the jolting pleasure.

Without warning he bunched her hair up in his fist and pushed his tip to the back of her throat, thrusting himself deeper into her mouth until she gagged. The sight of her watering eyes only seemed to rile him up.

“Look how fucking beautiful you are, my darling. Take all of me, just like the good whore you are," he breathed, pleasure dripping from his words.

Her eyes glistened with tears. and he watched her head bob back and forth.

"fuck I'm going to—" he gasped, releasing her head and pulling back slightly. But before he could finish himself off, she caught his hand, her determination surging, and continued, letting the warm liquid hit the back of her throat while he moaned, curses spilling from his lips until he finished.

He fixed his gaze on her as she swallowed every drop, wiping her bottom lip clean with a satisfied smile. “You’re not finishing with me down here,” she challenged, cheeky confidence returning.

“Insanity suits you,” he replied, standing and holding out a hand to help her rise. “Now let’s see just how wet you are for me.”

He led her to the table, and a surge of vulnerability washed over her as he slammed her against it giving him full access to her clit, while her stomach pressed against the polished wood. His hands roamed the insides of her thighs, and she softly moans as he moved her lace underwear to the side, his fingers brushing against her trembling skin

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back, connecting their lips once more, sucking on her bottom lip. After He released her hair, his hand quickly found her clit, eliciting a moan that was both pleasure and pain.

“Make a scene, sweetheart. Let everyone hear how much you enjoy this," he seethed, delivering a sharp smack that made her gasp, her stomach hitting the table harder.

As he moved her dress out of the way, he slowly removed her thong. Her grip tightened on the table's edges, anticipation thrumming in her veins. But just as she exhaled, he pressed a blade to her neck, drawing a gasp from her lips as he grabbed another fistful of hair to pull her back.

“I’m going to fuck you until you beg to finish, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But this is on my terms. Move too much, and your blood will splatter.” She nodded slowly, and without warning he pushed himself inside of her.

She gasped, feeling every inch of him stretching her, she felt his eyes darken with lust as he fucked her against the table. Each powerful thrust accompanied by the sound of the table squeaking beneath her, the blade scratched at her skin making her hiss at the foreign pain of the knife grazing her neck.

“you like that? hmm” he asked, delight etched in his expression.

“I do. It hurts," she admitted, breathless.

“Tell me to stop,”

But the words caught in her throat, her senses overwhelmed as the blade pressed deeper, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes back in pleasure.

“ But that's the thing, you like that huh? You don't have to hide what you truly want. I know you like this blade at your neck. Watch how good you take my dick slut" he groaned into her ear picking up the pace and she could already feel herself coming close to finishing.

A few more cuts on her neck and he flipped her over, her back colliding with the table, the sharp contrast of sensations sending goosebumps over her skin.

He poured his focus on the cuts, pressing kisses over the crimson marks as the metallic taste lingered in the air. The euphoric mix of pain and pleasure sent her into a frenzy, her nails digging into his bare back as he slipped himself back inside of her her.

“You won’t be the only one leaving this room marked,” she moaned in between their kisses. Both of them cursing and filling the room with the sound of their pleasure.

Their bodies moved in sync, letting the euphoria continue and their pace become sloppy. a dangerous dance of desire and desperation, the air thick with their shared moans and whispered curses.

“I’m gonna—"

“Not yet,” he interrupted, the tension in his voice low and commanding.

“I can't—” she yelped when he stopped, a sharp smack to her ass, only hard enough to sting.

“You can, and you will,” he grunted, slamming into her again, her hips bucking against him as he threw her leg onto his shoulder, pushing deeper. His penetrating gaze bore into her, making sure she didn’t disobey.

“Beg if you wanna finish.”

“Please,” she pleaded, breathless urgency coloring her voice.

“You're mine. Never forget that. Got it?" he growled. She hummed in agreement.

“Use your words,”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Cum for me. Be a good girl,” he murmured, and she quickly became undone. After a couple more strokes he finished after, his head rolling back in delight.

Her legs quivering and the short circuit of her brain stopping for just a moment. It was almost as if her body was made to be with him alone, each pulse and surge a beautiful convergence of pleasure and pain.

He tucked himself back before effortlessly lifting her off the table. Her feet barely touched the floor before her legs wobbled beneath her, struggling to support her weight.

"I can’t walk," she muttered, clutching the edge of the table for support, the remnants of their passion still buzzing in her veins.

"What was that?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"You heard me. Shut up and help me stand up," she sneered, irritation mingling with the lingering satisfaction in her tone.

He rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright. "Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice low and steady. With gentle firmness, he helped her regain her footing, guiding her away from the table as she leaned into him.

They took a few tentative steps, and he chuckled again, the sound warm against her ear. "You really know how to make things interesting."

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, though a smile betrayed her annoyance. “You’re lucky I’m even standing,” she added with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Lucky? I was thinking of round two,” he shot back with a grin, winking at her as they made their way towards the couch. Unaware of long night they’re about to witness.

part 1

[sinsinewave]

i actually don't think it's due to the costs of web hosting; now sure you can be a weirdo like me who has servers in their bedroom, but most browser games are so-called static sites, or implementable as ones that is, they require no serverside processing besides giving your browser the assets and some javascript to run for static hosting free services like github pages or neocities are more than good enough; and no harder to use than version control in general, which is a pretty basic thing if you're writing code in the first place ---

what i think is behind it is more so the accessibility and power of modern game engines like Godot; there's just not much of a motivation to write browser games anymore, when you have an easy to use basically professional-level game engine available for completely free hence the wealth of weird often free niche games and VNs and the like on itch.io for example in comparison, writing games in raw Javascript is much of a hassle if you want the same level of features as is available in a fully featured engine; 3D, shaders, etc.; and often the simplicity of browser games is borne specifically of the lack of engine capability that's not to say you can't make visually impressive and elaborate browser games (i mean just look at corru.observer), but that it's just a whole lot harder --- i do get what you're coming from though; from the player standpoint, browser games do have a certain convenience and even charm that native games you download don't; but also that doesn't really translate to the developer side (unless you're like me and have specific strong opinions on programming languages)

i think the near-extinction of people making fun, deep and/or unique interactive text-based browser games, projects and stories is catastrophic to the internet. i'm talking pre-itch.io era, nothing against it.

there are a lot of fun ones listed here and here but for the most part, they were made years ago and are now a dying breed. i get why. there's no money in it. factoring in the cost of web hosting and servers, it probably costs money. it's just sad that it's a dying art form.

anyway, here's some of my favorite browser-based interactive projects and games, if you're into that kind of thing. 90% of them are on the lists that i linked above.

A Better World - create an alternate history timeline

Alter Ego - abandonware birth-to-death life simulator game

Seedship - text-based game about colonizing a new planet

Sandboxels or ThisIsSand - free-falling sand physics games

Little Alchemy 2 - combine various elements to make new ones

Infinite Craft - kind of the same as Little Alchemy

ZenGM - simulate sports

Tamajoji - browser-based tamagotchi

IFDB - interactive fiction database (text adventure games)

Written Realms - more text adventure games with a user interface

The Cafe & Diner - mystery game

The New Campaign Trail - US presidential campaign game

Money Simulator - simulate financial decisions

Genesis - text-based adventure/fantasy game

Level 13 - text-based science fiction adventure game

Miniconomy - player driven economy game

Checkbox Olympics - games involving clicking checkboxes

BrantSteele.net - game show and Hunger Games simulators

Murder Games - fight to the death simulator by Orteil

Cookie Clicker - different but felt weird not including it. by Orteil.

if you're ever thinking about making a niche project that only a select number of individuals will be nerdy enough to enjoy, keep in mind i've been playing some of these games off and on for 20~ years (Alter Ego, for example). quite literally a lifetime of replayability.

[shdysders]

lips that lied

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara makes a drunken mistake at the party you didn't want her to attend.

word count: 8.5k

Tara didn't mean for it to turn into a fight.

She never did. It was like something inside her took over—this simmering frustration that she couldn't control, no matter how hard she tried.

The moment someone started telling her what to do or how to live her life, it was like a switch flipped.

She'd hear the words, feel the anger rise, and before she even realized it, she was saying something sharp, defensive.

It had started small, little things that shouldn't have mattered so much. Sam reminding her to take her laundry to her room or nagging her to empty the dishwasher.

Tara knew Sam wasn't trying to push her buttons, but it always felt like she was. The tone Sam used—the one laced with authority, like she was the boss of everything—grated on Tara's nerves.

It didn't matter that Sam was older, that she'd been through more. Tara wasn't a kid anymore. She didn't need someone hovering over her shoulder, pointing out every little thing she did wrong.

But it wasn't just Sam anymore. The fights had started bleeding into other parts of her life, other relationships. With you. And that hurt more than anything.

You were the one person Tara felt like she could truly be herself around, the one who always had her back, no matter what.

But lately, it felt like every conversation between you two ended the same way—with raised voices and lingering tension. And no matter how hard she tried to keep her temper in check, she always ended up getting mad.

She didn't mean it. She didn't intend to lash out at you. But when you brought up the parties, the drinking, the staying out late, it was like a spark to dry tinder. It wasn't the words themselves—it was the way you said them.

The concern in your voice, the way your brows furrowed just slightly, like you were worried but also disappointed. It made her feel like you didn't trust her, like you thought she was reckless and incapable. And that stung more than she'd ever let on.

Deep down, Tara knew where you were coming from. After everything you'd both been through—everything with Ghostface—it made sense that you'd be scared, that you'd want to protect her. She understood that.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that your concern came with strings, like it was just another way of trying to control her. Another way of making her feel small, like she couldn't make her own choices without you or Sam hovering over her shoulder.

And maybe it wasn't fair to take it out on you. Maybe it wasn't fair to get angry every time you brought it up. But Tara couldn't help it. The anger came fast and burned hot, and by the time she realized it, the damage was already done.

It was always about the same thing, too—the parties, the drinking. Always. You'd look at her like she was throwing her life away, and she'd lash out, throwing up her walls before you could even get a word in.

She hated the look on your face when it happened, the way your shoulders would drop just slightly, like you were trying to hide how much it hurt.

But that only made her angrier—at you, at herself, at everything.

Because she didn't know how to stop it. She didn't know how to stop feeling like this, like everyone she cared about was trying to tell her how to live her life. And she didn't know how to tell you that it wasn't you she was angry at—it was everything else.

Tara had been trying—really, she had. There were nights she'd sat on her bed, staring at the ceiling, telling herself she didn't need to go out again. That she could say no the next time her friends invited her to a party. College life wasn't supposed to be about drinking until you blacked out or waking up to half-remembered nights.

That's what you and Sam had told her, over and over. And the worst part? You were right. Tara knew you were right. That's probably why it made her so angry.

She hated the way her stomach twisted every time you brought it up, the way your words stuck in her head like some nagging voice she couldn't shake.

She wasn't proud of some of the nights she'd had—the tequila shots that blurred into oblivion, the mornings she woke up with her head pounding and no idea how she got back to her room.

But she didn't want to hear it from you. Not when it already weighed on her enough.

And yet, she'd been trying. Tara hadn't gone to as many parties recently, even when her friends begged her to come out. She told herself she didn't need it, that she didn't need to drown herself in the chaos of booze and loud music just to feel something.

College wasn't about that. You and Sam were right about that too.

But tonight... tonight was Halloween.

The one night of the year where partying didn't feel reckless—it felt expected. It wasn't just about drinking; it was about the costumes, the energy, the way everyone on campus seemed to buzz with excitement for weeks leading up to it.

Tara had spent the last two days scrolling through pictures of her friends' costumes, feeling the first pangs of FOMO creeping in as they texted her plans for the night.

If there was ever a night to drink and party, it was Halloween. That's what everyone kept saying, and deep down, Tara agreed. It wasn't like any other night of the year. This wasn't just some random frat party—it was a celebration, an excuse to dress up, let loose, and not think about all the heavy stuff for a while. For once, it felt justified.

But there was that nagging voice again. The one that sounded a lot like yours.

You wouldn't see it that way. You never did.

It was part of why she hadn't brought it up yet, why she'd stayed quiet all day when the group chat started blowing up with details about pre-games and house locations. She already knew what you'd say, could hear the conversation playing out in her head like a bad rerun.

Isn't it the same as every other one? You said you were going to cut back, Tara.

She sighed, pulling her phone out and scrolling through the endless stream of messages. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about staying in. There was something comforting about the idea of spending the night with you, cozying up on the couch with a movie while everyone else partied. She liked those nights the most. She liked you the most.

But Halloween only came once a year, and she wasn't ready to let it pass her by.

She had made up her mind hours ago.

Though she hadn't told you yet, and maybe that was unfair. But what was the point? You'd already made your feelings clear about the parties and the drinking, and she wasn't in the mood for another lecture. It wasn't like she needed your permission anyway. Tara had spent all afternoon convincing herself of that, repeating it in her head like a mantra while she got ready.

Now, standing in front of her mirror, she leaned in closer, carefully dragging the eyeliner across her lid with a steady hand. Her music played softly from her speaker as she moved with practiced ease, brushing a shimmery gold shadow over her eyes.

The sound of your footsteps approaching the room made her shoulders tense, but she didn't let it show. She focused on her reflection, keeping her face neutral, as if she hadn't heard you come to the doorway.

You leaned against the frame, your arms crossed loosely over your chest. "Where are you going?" Your voice was casual, but the curiosity behind it was unmistakable.

Tara's eyes flicked to yours in the mirror, her expression calm, as if this were no big deal. "Just a Halloween party," she said, her tone light and nonchalant. She reached for her lipstick, uncapping it and twisting it up. "I was thinking maybe you could come along."

It was true. She wanted you to come.

You didn't answer right away. Tara could feel your hesitation, the way your arms tightened slightly against your body. Finally, you spoke, your voice softer this time. "Oh... I thought we could just stay home and watch a movie. Sam's not home, so it'd just be the two of us."

Tara froze for just a second, the lipstick poised in her hand. She felt the weight of your words settle over the room, quiet but heavy. She hadn't thought about that—about how it would've been just you and her tonight, no interruptions, no one else around.

Her gaze flicked back to the mirror, and for a moment, she almost said yes. But the lipstick in her hand reminded her of where her night was already headed, of the costume she'd spent hours putting together.

She sighed quietly, muttering under her breath, "Well, you should've said something sooner, then."

The words were out before she could stop them. She didn't even think about how they'd sound until the silence that followed made her realize just how loud they'd been.

Slowly, she glanced at you again in the mirror, her stomach twisting as she saw the way your expression changed—the faint flicker of hurt in your eyes, the way your posture straightened as if bracing for something.

Tara clenched her jaw, trying to push down the flicker of anger she could already feel stirring in her chest. She hadn't meant to snap—it just came out wrong. But the way you stood there, looking at her like she'd just let you down, made it so much harder to keep her cool.

She capped the lipstick with a sharp click and turned to face you fully, leaning one hand against the desk behind her. "Are you coming or not?" she asked, her voice clipped, already tinged with irritation.

You hesitated again, and Tara could see the conflict written all over your face. "No," you said finally, your voice quiet but firm. "And honestly... I don't think you should go either."

There it was—the thing she'd been waiting for, the thing she was dreading. Your concern, your protectiveness, wrapped up in a polite but unmistakable disapproval.

Tara let out a sharp exhale, shaking her head as she pushed off the desk. "Of course you don't," she muttered under her breath, though it wasn't quite quiet enough to go unnoticed.

She started pacing the room, her hands flexing at her sides as she tried to keep herself in check, but the familiar heat of frustration was already creeping up her neck.

This was how it always started—your calm but firm words, her biting back without thinking, and then the inevitable explosion. She could feel it building, that anger she never knew how to stop, the same kind that always reared its head when Sam tried to tell her what to do.

"I don't get why this is such a big deal," Tara said, her tone sharper than she intended. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the desk with a defensive edge. "It's Halloween. It's not like I do this every night."

"You shouldn't be doing it at all," you replied, your voice quiet but firm, though there was a tension in your jaw that gave away your frustration. "Tara, you know it's not safe. Not after—"

"Don't." Her voice was clipped as she cut you off, her eyes narrowing as she shook her head. "Don't bring that up." She pushed herself off the desk, turning her back to you.

Her fingers tightened around the fabric as she stared at the floor. Her chest felt tight, her heart pounding against her ribs like it wanted to break free. She didn't need you to say it. She already knew. The parties, the drinking—it wasn't safe. It wasn't smart. But she was so tired of being reminded of it, so tired of feeling like she couldn't make a single decision without someone stepping in to tell her it was the wrong one.

"Why do we keep having this same conversation?" Tara asked, spinning around to face you, her voice louder now, almost exasperated. She threw her hands up, the movement sharp and agitated. "Why can't you just trust me?"

"It's not about trust," you said, your voice rising slightly to match hers, though you clearly didn't want to fight. "It's about being realistic, Tara. If something happens—"

"Nothing is going to happen!" Tara snapped, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. She took a step closer to you, her frustration spilling out in the way her fists clenched at her sides. "Why do you always assume the worst? I'm not some reckless idiot who can't take care of herself!"

You flinched slightly, your lips pressing together into a thin line. But then, your eyes met hers, steady and unflinching. "I don't think you're reckless," you said, your voice softer now but still resolute. "I think you're stubborn. And I think you're angry, and you don't even know why half the time."

Tara's breath hitched, the words cutting deeper than she'd expected. Her jaw tightened, and she let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head as she looked away. "Oh, so now I'm the problem?" she muttered bitterly, pacing a few steps to the other side of the room.

"I didn't say that," you said, your voice still calm, but there was an edge to it now—a frustration that had been building over time. "But you don't listen, Tara. Not to me. Not to Sam. It's like you don't care how much we worry about you."

She stopped pacing, her head snapping up to meet your gaze. "I didn't ask you to worry," she shot back, her tone colder now. "I didn't ask for either of you to act like I'm some fragile little kid who can't handle herself."

The words hung in the air, heavy and cutting.

"Tara..." Your voice wavered slightly, and for a moment, she saw the hurt flicker in your eyes, the way your shoulders sagged just a bit. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to keep you safe. Because I care about you. Because I love you. And it feels like you don't even care about that."

Her chest tightened at your words, but she pushed the feeling down, burying it beneath her anger. "I do care," she snapped, though her voice cracked slightly. "But I can't keep living my life walking on eggshells because you're scared something might happen. That's not fair."

"And it's fair to me?" you shot back, your voice rising now, the frustration finally spilling over. "To stand here and watch you go out, knowing damn well something could happen to you and I'd be powerless to stop it?"

Tara opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss. Her hands fell to her sides, her breathing uneven as she stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. The anger still simmered beneath her skin, but now it was tangled with guilt, confusion, and something she didn't know how to name.

"It's not safe, Tara," you said, your tone softer this time, like you were pleading with her. Your hands rested at your sides, fingers twitching slightly, a subtle sign of the nerves you were trying to hide. "You drink too much. You're out late, and if something happened—"

"Like what?" Tara cut you off sharply, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she took a step back. Her posture screamed defensiveness, her jaw tightening as she stared you down. "Ghostface? You think I can't handle myself?"

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it," you replied, exhaling in frustration. Your tone was measured, but there was an edge to it now, like you were walking a fine line between trying to stay calm and letting your own anger slip through. "I just don't understand why you need to go out all the time. Why can't we just stay here? Together?"

Tara's mouth opened, then closed, her eyes flickering to the floor for a brief second before she met your gaze again. Staying here felt suffocating, like the walls of the apartment were closing in on her a little more every day. But she didn't say that. Instead, she threw her hands up in exasperation, her voice rising despite herself.

"I'm not some kid who needs a curfew, okay? I'm not going to stop living my life just because you and Sam want to keep me locked up in bubble wrap!"

Your face fell, the flicker of hurt in your eyes like a knife twisting in Tara's chest. She hadn't meant it like that—at least, not entirely. But the words were out now, sharp and cutting, and there was no way to take them back.

"Tara..." Your voice was quieter now, but the disappointment in it was unmistakable. It made her stomach churn, but the anger boiling inside her wouldn't let her stop.

"You don't get it," she snapped, doubling down even though part of her wanted to stop. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her body trembling slightly as she glared at you. "You never want to come with me anyway, so why do you care so much? You're just going to sit here and judge me from the couch like you always do!"

"That's not fair," you said, your voice breaking slightly, but you didn't raise it. Instead, you crossed your arms, your shoulders hunching defensively as you looked at her, the sadness in your eyes more apparent now. "I'm not judging you, Tara. I'm scared for you. There's a difference."

"Scared for me?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she took another step back, her arms still crossed like she was shielding herself. "I don't need you to be scared for me. I'm fine! I'm not some helpless little girl who needs you holding my hand every second of the day!"

You blinked, your lips parting like you wanted to say something, but the words didn't come. Tara could see the hurt written all over your face, the way your shoulders slumped like her words had physically knocked the wind out of you.

"Why do you always do this?" she continued, her voice louder now, cracking slightly at the edges. She ran a hand through her hair, pacing a few steps before spinning back around to face you. "Why do you always make me feel like I'm the bad guy? Like I'm the problem?"

"I'm not trying to make you feel like anything," you said, your voice shaking now, though you still kept it calm. "I just—I don't want to lose you, Tara. Is that so hard to understand?"

Tara froze for a moment, your words cutting through her anger like a blade. But instead of softening, the guilt twisting in her gut only fueled the fire.

"You're not going to lose me," she said, her tone sharp, almost dismissive. "But you can't keep treating me like I'm going to break every time I step out the door. That's not fair to me, okay? I'm allowed to have a life."

The silence that followed was heavy, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. Tara's chest heaved as she stared at you, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms.

You took a step closer, your hands falling to your sides as you looked at her with pleading eyes. "I'm not trying to take away your life, Tara. I just want to be a part of it. And I want you to be safe. That's all."

Tara's hands shook at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to hold herself together. But the tightness in her chest only grew, her pulse pounding in her ears.

She felt caged, suffocated by the weight of your concern, like every decision she made had to be scrutinized and questioned.

It wasn't fair—it wasn't fair that you could make her feel this way, guilty and cornered, when all she wanted was space to breathe.

"Well, maybe I don't want you to be a part of it!" The words were out before she could stop them, and the second they left her mouth, she wanted to take them back.

Your expression shattered, your eyes widening slightly as you stepped back like she'd physically pushed you. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

Tara swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she looked away. "I didn't mean that," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. But the damage was already done.

You didn't say anything, your lips pressing into a thin line as you looked down, your hands clenching at your sides.

"I'm going," she said finally, her voice colder now as she grabbed her jacket off the chair. "Don't wait up."

You finally opened your mouth at that, your voice trembling as you took a hesitant step forward. "Tara, wait, I'll—”

But you were interrupted by the sharp slam of the door.

Which Tara slammed behind her harder than she meant to, the sharp sound echoing in the hallway. She paused for a moment, her chest heaving as the anger slowly began to ebb, leaving guilt in its place. She rubbed a hand over her face, muttering a quiet curse under her breath.

She did feel bad. She hated the look on your face, the way your shoulders had slumped, like her words had taken something out of you.

But going back now? That would only prove your point—that she couldn't handle herself. Tara wasn't going to let that happen.

Her boots clicked against the pavement as she made her way down the street, her jacket pulled tightly around her. The city was alive with Halloween energy, groups of costumed people spilling out of bars and clubs, laughter and music filling the air. It should've made her feel better, reminded her why she was doing this. Instead, it only made her stomach twist.

By the time she reached the house, the bass from the music inside was already vibrating through the sidewalk. The door swung open as someone stumbled out, nearly knocking into her, and Tara slipped past them without a word.

Inside, the party was in full swing. The living room was packed with people, costumes ranging from elaborate to lazy crowding every corner. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, the music loud enough to drown out her thoughts. Perfect.

The first thing she did was head for the kitchen, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. She grabbed a red solo cup from the counter and poured herself a drink, the burn of the cheap vodka barely registering as she tipped it back and swallowed half in one go.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her chest. Tara grabbed another cup—this time mixing it with whatever mixer was nearby—and made her way back to the main room, the tension in her body slowly unwinding.

"Tara!" Anika's voice cut through the noise, and Tara turned to see her standing near the couch, Mindy by her side. Both of them were grinning, their costumes half-wrinkled from the chaos of the party.

"Hey!" Tara forced a smile, lifting her drink in a half-hearted salute as she made her way over.

"Look at you!" Mindy said, smirking as she gave Tara a once-over. "All dressed up and ready to party. Didn't think you were coming."

"Changed my mind," Tara replied casually, taking another sip of her drink as she leaned against the wall.

Anika nudged her playfully, her own drink sloshing slightly in her hand. "Glad you did. It's not a party without you."

Tara chuckled softly, her smile feeling a little more real now. The noise, the crowd, the alcohol—it was a distraction, exactly what she needed.

Anika shook her head, grinning as she sipped her drink. "Where's Y/N? I thought you two were hanging out tonight."

Mindy shot Tara a knowing look, raising her drink to her lips as she waited for the response.

Tara stiffened, her grip tightening slightly on her cup before she masked it with a shrug. "She didn't feel like coming."

"Really?" Anika frowned. "She seemed excited about Halloween the other day."

"She had other plans," Tara said quickly, brushing it off as she took another sip of her drink. "It's not a big deal."

Anika's brows furrowed slightly, but she didn't push. Mindy, however, smirked as she leaned closer. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Shut up," Tara muttered, rolling her eyes as she took a long drink.

Mindy laughed, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying."

"Okay, but seriously," Mindy said, her tone conspiratorial as she leaned closer, clearly trying to change the subject. "Who do you think has the worst costume here? My vote's on the guy in the banana suit.”

Tara snorted, the tension in her chest loosening a little more as she let herself fall into the moment, pushing everything else to the back of her mind.

For now, this was enough.

But it wasn't for long.

The drinks went down too easily tonight, one after the other, the burn of the alcohol soon replaced by a numbing buzz that made Tara's limbs feel weightless. She wasn't keeping track—she never did—but by the time she was halfway through her fourth drink, the world around her had already started to blur.

It was worse than usual. She could feel it, the familiar dizziness settling in her head, the way her balance wavered slightly every time she shifted her weight. But she didn't care. She couldn't care.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw your face—the way your voice had cracked when you said, "I just don't want to lose you." The guilt she'd managed to bury earlier was bubbling back to the surface, and the only way to shove it down again was to keep drinking.

By the time she reached for her fifth cup, her hands were unsteady. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice told her to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But that voice sounded a lot like you, and Tara didn't want to hear it.

She threw back the drink anyway, wincing as it went down harder this time, the sweetness of the mixer barely masking the sharpness of the alcohol. The room spun slightly when she set the cup down, and she reached out to steady herself on the edge of the counter.

"Hey, you good?" someone asked, but Tara didn't bother turning to look. She waved them off with a muttered "Yeah, fine," before pushing herself away from the counter.

She stumbled back into the main room, the crowd swallowing her whole. Anika and Mindy had been here a minute ago—she was sure of it—but now they were nowhere to be seen.

God, she was drunk. Too drunk.

She tried to push through the sea of people, her eyes darting around the room in search of her friends. Her chest tightened when she couldn't spot them, panic starting to creep in around the edges of her alcohol-fueled haze.

Someone bumped into her, spilling a bit of their drink onto her jacket, and she spun around, her frustration spilling out in a slurred, "Watch it!" The person just rolled their eyes and moved on, leaving Tara standing there, unsteady and alone in the middle of the chaos.

Her head was pounding now, the music too loud, the lights too bright. She fumbled for her phone, pulling it out of her pocket to call Anika or Mindy, but her fingers felt clumsy, and she nearly dropped it twice before managing to open her contacts.

No answer.

Tara swallowed hard, her throat burning from the alcohol and something else she didn't want to name. The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as the reality of the situation began to settle over her. She'd lost her friends. She was drunker than she'd ever been. And she had no idea what to do next.

The air in the crowded living room was stifling, thick with the mingling scents of sweat, spilled drinks, and cheap perfume.

Her head was swimming, the pounding bass vibrating in her chest like a second heartbeat. She pressed a hand to her temple, grimacing as the alcohol buzz threatened to tip her into full-on dizziness.

Her throat burned, dry and aching from the string of drinks she'd knocked back earlier. She needed water. Something cold to clear her head and keep her upright. The thought became a singular focus, cutting through the haze. Just water. If she could get to the kitchen, maybe she could think straight again.

The dimly lit hallway leading to it felt like a challenge course, bodies crowding every step of the way. Tara squeezed past a couple leaning against the wall and miscalculated her footing as her balance wavered. Before she could stop herself, she collided into someone with enough force to send her stumbling back.

"Whoa there," the guy said, his hands coming up instinctively to catch her by the shoulders.

Tara blinked, disoriented, her face heating from the embarrassment and the alcohol swirling in her system. "Sorry," she muttered, trying to straighten herself as her vision cleared enough to see who she'd bumped into.

Frankie. Of course.

He smirked, letting his hands drop but not stepping back. "Tara Carpenter, right?" His tone carried a mix of recognition and amusement, as though the universe had handed him this moment just for fun.

"Yeah," she said, brushing her hair back as she tried to shake off the drunken haze clouding her thoughts. "Sorry, I wasn't—"

"Looking where you were going?" he teased, his grin widening.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the faint curve of a smile tugging at her lips. "Something like that."

Frankie didn't move away, his presence lingering a little too close for what might have been polite. He tilted his head, giving her a once-over with that same smirk, his dark eyes glinting under the dim light.

"You seem like you've had a good time tonight," he said, his voice light but edged with something Tara couldn't quite place.

She shrugged, brushing imaginary lint off her sleeve as a distraction. "It's a party," she said, aiming for casual. "That's kind of the point, isn't it?"

Frankie chuckled, the sound low and smooth. "True. But you look like you might need a breather. Want some water or...?"

Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure if he was being considerate or just trying to prolong the conversation. Either way, she crossed her arms, leaning her hip against the counter to steady herself.

"I was about to get one," she admitted, her voice more defensive than she intended.

"Smart move," Frankie said, stepping around her to open the fridge. He pulled out a bottle and held it up with a crooked smile. "Ladies first?"

Her gaze flicked between him and the bottle, her lips quirking in a faint smirk of her own. "Thanks," she said, taking it from him and twisting the cap off.

She took a long sip, her throat easing from the burn of the earlier drinks. The water was cold, sharp against her tongue, and for a moment, she let herself focus on that—on the relief of it.

"So," Frankie said, leaning back against the counter as he watched her. "What brings you to this madhouse tonight? Thought you weren't much for these kinds of things."

Tara bristled slightly at the question, shifting her weight to the other foot. "Why does everyone assume that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I can have fun, you know."

He grinned again, but it was softer this time, almost like he was testing the waters. "Didn't mean anything by it," he said. "Just... you seem more low-key. Not the type to down four drinks and stumble into strangers."

Tara rolled her eyes, though she couldn't entirely stop the heat rising to her cheeks. "Guess I'm full of surprises," she said, taking another sip of water.

Her thoughts drifted briefly as the alcohol in her system dulled her usual defenses. It felt nice, talking to someone without the tension simmering beneath the surface. No fights, no accusations, just... this. A moment where she wasn't angry or being scolded. She leaned into the counter, letting herself relax slightly.

Tara let her gaze drift over Frankie for a moment, her vision slightly unfocused from the alcohol but sharp enough to take in the details. His short, dark curls framed his face, and there was something effortlessly casual about him—like he knew exactly how to play the part of the guy who didn't care too much but somehow still caught everyone's attention.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, a fixture she doubted ever left, and the faintest trace of a beard shadowed his jawline.

She took another sip of water, using the motion to cover the way her eyes lingered. It wasn't like she was interested—not really. He had a reputation, and not the good kind. But he was here. He was talking to her. And with her friends somewhere out in the chaos of the party, who else was she supposed to talk to?

Tara knew she was drunk, the buzz coursing through her veins a constant reminder. It made everything feel a little too easy, a little too warm.

Her thoughts were slippery, darting from one thing to another before she could catch them. But still, she could look, couldn't she? That wasn't a crime.

"Your friends ditch you or something?" Frankie's voice cut through the fog in her head, his tone light but curious.

She shrugged, her fingers curling around the neck of the water bottle. "Something like that," she said, leaning a little more heavily against the counter. "They'll turn up eventually."

"Mm," he hummed, his smirk deepening. "Guess that makes me the lucky one, then."

Tara raised an eyebrow at that, her lips twitching into a faint smile despite herself. "Lucky?" she echoed, her tone teasing.

"Yeah," he said, his gaze flickering over her like he was sizing her up. "I get to keep you company."

She rolled her eyes, though the warmth in her chest spread a little further. "You're full of it," she muttered, but there wasn't any bite to her words.

He shrugged, unbothered. "Maybe. But you're still standing here, aren't you?"

She didn't answer right away, instead glancing at the door that led back into the main room. The thump of the music bled through, muffled but still loud enough to make her head ache. She could leave. She could walk back out there, try to find Mindy and Anika and pretend she wasn't standing here with him.

But instead, she stayed.

"You're right," she said finally, her tone dry. "Guess I am."

Her lips curved into a smirk, matching the one Frankie had been wearing since the moment she stumbled into him. Her steps were slow but deliberate as she closed the distance between them, her eyes locked on his.

The noise of the party around them faded into the background, leaving only the faint thrum of the bass vibrating through the walls.

She didn't know why she was moving closer, or what exactly she was hoping to find in the glint of amusement in his eyes, but she didn't stop herself either. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her veins, softening the sharp edges of her usual caution. Maybe it was the simmering anger she hadn't been able to shake since she left the apartment.

Either way, the part of her that usually screamed to think twice was silent, and she wasn't about to argue.

Frankie didn't step back as she approached. If anything, his smirk widened, the corners of his lips curling with a confidence that might have been off-putting if she were sober. But she wasn't sober, and the alcohol told her it was a good thing. His posture remained relaxed, leaning slightly against the counter, but his eyes followed her every move.

Tara stopped just close enough for the air between them to feel charged, her gaze flickering down to the beer in his hand before returning to his face.

Her heart thudded in her chest, though she couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol coursing through her veins or the strange electricity in the air between them. Her balance wavered slightly as she shifted onto her tiptoes, her hands briefly brushing the counter for support before she reached up.

The decision wasn't calculated—it wasn't even really a decision. It just happened. Her lips pressed to his, soft but insistent, the faint bitterness of beer on his mouth mingling with the warmth of his breath.

For the briefest moment, her mind went completely quiet. The noise of the party faded into the background. The tension from earlier, the argument, the mess of emotions—none of it mattered. Her chest felt lighter, as if she'd found a fleeting relief she hadn't even known she was searching for.

Frankie responded almost instantly, his lips moving against hers with a confidence that matched his earlier demeanor. His hand slid to her waist, steadying her as she leaned further into him. The kiss was firm, and there was no hesitation on his part. It was easy, natural, and for a fleeting second.

But then, just as quickly, he pulled away, breaking the connection with a soft sound that felt too loud in the charged silence between them. Tara blinked up at him, her breath hitching slightly as she tried to process the shift.

Frankie's expression was a mixture of amusement and something darker, his brows furrowed slightly even as a small, lopsided smirk played on his lips. His eyes scanned her face like he was trying to solve a puzzle, his voice low and teasing when he finally spoke. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"

The words hung in the air, sharp and pointed, but they didn't land the way they should have. Tara's mind didn't snap to you, to your laugh or your smile or the way you always made her feel safe. It didn't even flicker with guilt. Instead, the question felt almost absurd, like it wasn't meant for her.

Her expression shifted, her brows knitting together as her lips parted slightly in confusion. She stared at Frankie, her drunken mind slow to process the accusation. "No," she said finally, the word slipping out with a sharp edge, like the idea itself offended her.

She barely gave him time to react. His smirk widened slightly, like he wasn't entirely convinced, but she didn't care. She didn't want to care. She pushed up onto her toes again, her hands gripping the edge of the counter for balance, and kissed him once more.

This time, Frankie didn't hesitate. His hands found her waist again, pulling her closer as he kissed her back with more force. Tara leaned into him, her body moving instinctively as her mind quieted further. The heat of his touch and the pressure of his lips were the only things she could focus on, drowning out the buzz of the party and the alcohol swirling in her system.

The kiss deepened, and the edges of the room blurred as the world around them fell away. Tara didn't think. She didn't analyze. She just let herself go, letting the moment sweep her up completely, letting the alcohol and adrenaline guide her. For now, it was easier not to remember. Easier not to think about anything else.

It didn't feel good.

That was the thought that struck her, sharp and insistent, as the kiss deepened. There was a hollowness in her chest, a feeling she couldn't quite place that refused to be drowned out by the alcohol. But it was supposed to feel good. That's what she told herself. This was what she came here for, wasn't it? To forget. To escape. To lose herself in something that didn't matter.

Frankie's hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, and Tara kissed him harder, as if forcing the moment to feel like it was enough would make it so. But that sensation in her stomach—the one that twisted and knotted itself tighter with every second—didn't leave.

Her lips moved against his with a kind of desperation, but the spark she expected, the relief she thought she'd find, didn't come. The kiss was warm, his touch steady, but it wasn't enough to chase away the heaviness sitting in her chest. It wasn't enough to erase the lingering anger, the ache she refused to name, or the faint sense of wrongness pressing at the edges of her mind.

Tara told herself it was the alcohol. That the burn in her stomach and the dull ache creeping up her spine was just the vodka catching up to her. But it wasn't. It was something else entirely, something she didn't want to think about.

So she pushed it down, ignored it. She kissed Frankie like it was a solution, like if she just went through the motions hard enough, it would fix the uneasy feeling clawing at her insides. She tilted her head, her fingers gripping the counter for balance, and kissed him like she meant it.

But no matter how hard she tried, that feeling in her stomach didn't leave.

And then.

It hit her all at once, like a punch to the gut.

You.

Her body froze against Frankie's, the haze of alcohol momentarily lifting as her mind snapped into sharp, almost painful focus. She did have a girlfriend. A girlfriend who was waiting at home for her.

A girlfriend who had looked at her earlier with worry etched into her features, asking her to stay, asking her to talk.

A girlfriend who wanted nothing more than to spend the night curled up on the couch with her, watching movies and laughing at whatever cheesy dialogue made its way onto the screen.

She had you.

And she'd told Frankie she didn't. She'd looked him in the eyes, as if the very idea of you didn't exist, and said no. No. She'd kissed him, lied to him, and to herself, and for what?

Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of it all came crashing down.

Tara shoved Frankie away abruptly, panic tightening every muscle in her body. The force sent her stumbling back a step, and Frankie staggered too, looking utterly baffled.

"What the fuck?" he spat, his voice sharp and angry, his brows furrowing in disbelief.

Tara barely heard him. Her chest heaved as she scanned the kitchen, her eyes darting to the edges of the room, searching frantically. Had anyone seen them? Was someone standing there, phone in hand, ready to immortalize her mistake forever?

Her hands trembled as her gaze swept over the crowd, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She didn't know if it was the alcohol, the fear, or the overwhelming realization of what she'd just done, but the world tilted slightly as her mind raced, desperate to make sense of what had just happened—and to undo it, even though she knew she couldn't.

Tara's eyes darted wildly across the room, desperate to anchor herself to something, anything that would quiet the storm brewing inside her. One of the doors creaked open as someone stumbled in, but she was already turning toward the noise filtering in from the main room.

Her gaze followed the chaotic scene beyond the doorway—the crowd swaying to the beat of the music, cups raised in the air, bodies pressed too close together.

She spotted a couple making out against the wall, their faces blurred together in the dim light, oblivious to the world around them. Nearby, a guy in a cheap pirate costume laughed loudly, spilling his drink over himself as his friends roared in drunken amusement. It was all so normal, so loud, so suffocating.

And then, her breath hitched.

There, just beyond the shifting sea of people, was a figure standing motionless. Someone was looking straight at her, their eyes locked onto hers.

At first, it didn't register. Her vision swam, the blur of tears and alcohol distorting the scene in front of her. But that silhouette—that hair, those familiar features—something about it cut through the haze, stabbing straight into her chest.

Her pulse quickened as the figure stepped forward, just slightly, enough for the light to catch their face.

It was you.

Tara froze.

It was you—your eyes, your expression. The heartbreak painted so clearly across your face, it made her stomach twist painfully. And then there was your costume—something hastily thrown together, it seemed. A loose shirt that was supposed to pass as part of the look, a small prop in your hand that didn't match the theme of the party. It was clear you hadn't cared what you looked like. You had come here for her.

Tara felt like she was going to be sick.

You had seen it. Tara could tell by the look in your eyes, the way they shimmered with unshed tears, the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly, as if trying to make sense of what you'd witnessed.

You had seen her kiss him. Probably seen her lie, even if you hadn't heard the words. The betrayal was written all over your face, the silent confirmation that Tara's worst fear—the one she hadn't even allowed herself to fully acknowledge—was now her reality.

You didn't say a word, didn't move. You just stood there, your shoulders slightly slumped, the light from the room casting harsh shadows over the raw hurt etched into your features. Your lips parted like you wanted to speak, but no sound came out.

She couldn't breathe.

Her body trembled, her legs feeling like they'd give out at any moment. The guilt crashed over her in waves, suffocating her. Tara's chest tightened as she stared back at you, her lips parting uselessly as though she could explain—could somehow undo what you must have seen.

Her mind raced, replaying the moment just minutes before when she'd lied, when she'd kissed someone who wasn't you.

The taste of Frankie's beer still lingered on her lips, and it made her stomach churn. How could she? How could she do this to you—the one person who cared for her, loved her, even when she didn't deserve it?

Her guilt clawed at her, sharp and unrelenting. She could feel the weight of it in her chest, see it reflected in your eyes.

You were here, dressed in something last-minute, probably feeling out of place in the loud, chaotic party. You'd come for her, likely because you'd wanted to talk, to make things better after the argument. She could see the effort, the love in the way you'd shown up for her. And she'd thrown it away.

Tara's breathing turned shallow, her hands shaking at her sides. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. The words she wanted to say died in her throat, swallowed by the lump of regret that had taken over.

Her lips trembled, but no sound came. The only thing she could do was stand there, staring at the one person she swore she'd never hurt, knowing she already had.

Tara felt as though her chest was caving in, the weight of her actions pressing down until it became nearly unbearable. Her stomach churned violently, guilt sinking its claws into her as her mind replayed every small detail of the moment before. The way her lips had moved against his. The lie she'd so easily let slip from her mouth.

And now, you. Standing there, looking at her like she was a stranger—a stranger who had just torn your heart in two.

Her throat tightened painfully, a lump of emotion rising that she couldn't swallow down no matter how hard she tried. Her head buzzed with alcohol, with shame, with the sudden, overwhelming clarity of what she'd just done.

You weren't supposed to be here. You were supposed to be at home, waiting for her like you always did, with that soft patience only you seemed to have for her. But you weren't.

You were here, in front of her, and she had ruined everything.

A tear slipped down your cheek, catching the dim light as it fell, and it was like a knife slicing through her chest.

She watched as you exhaled shakily, your shoulders rising and falling with effort, as if just standing there was almost too much.

And then you nodded. Slowly, your head dipped once, twice, as if acknowledging what she'd done, what she was.

That nearly undid her.

Your lips pressed into a small, trembling smile—forced, broken, and so soft it shattered her. You tried. Even in the moment where she'd failed you in the worst way, you still tried. And that was what gutted her the most.

You didn't say a word.

You turned around, your movements slow and deliberate, like it physically hurt to walk away.

And Tara stood there, rooted in place, her hands trembling so violently at her sides she could feel her nails biting into her palms. Her chest heaved, her breath shallow and uneven. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to move, to follow you, to grab your hand and beg for forgiveness.

She wanted to run after you, to stop you before you disappeared into the night. She wanted to scream your name, to throw herself at your feet and tell you it was all a mistake, that she only loved you. You. Always you.

But she couldn't move. She was frozen, locked in place by her own fear, her own shame.

And you walked out.

The sound of the front door clicking shut in the distance echoed like a death knell in her ears. Tara felt the walls closing in around her, the party suddenly too loud, too bright, too much. And yet, all she could do was stand there, watching the spot where you'd been, her chest hollow and her heart splintering apart.

She had lost you. And it was her fault.

Tara was left staring at the place you just stood, knowing she'd just destroyed the one thing that ever felt like home.

[gothicfied]

can you write a squid game fic or head cannons of other characters finding out the reader is struggling with self harm? If so, thank you and I understand it is a sensitive topics and may be uncomfortable to write.

Squid Game season 2 characters x reader who struggles with sh

Featuring: Thanos / Player 230, Se-mi / Player 380, Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120, Nam-gyu / Player 124, Kang Dae-ho / Player 388, Park Min-su / Player 125, Kim Jun-hee / Player 222

(Trigger) Warnings: Mention/Talk about sh, depression, and things of this nature, this is comfort/angst, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Summary: Basically what the ask says

A/N: hey! I hope this is what you imagined, sorry if some of these are ooc😞🙏

Thanos / Player 230

જ⁀➴ Before he really knew, he'd constantly make your life a living hell, basically making fun of your shyness. He'd make certain comments to which he knew you wouldn't react to or would try to persuade you to vote in favor of the game containing.

જ⁀➴ You'd constantly tell him off and to leave you alone. It didn't really help, though. Thanos would just sit down next to you and talk your ear off about what he wanted to do with that prize money.

જ⁀➴ When you stood up to leave, rollung your eyes at him, he grabbed you by your wrist.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Thanos blurted out, giving you an offended glare. "You know, it's really rude to just leave a conversation like that." When you tried to get out of his grip, your sleeves rode up your arm, revealing scars you weren't proud of or wanted him to see. When you realized it, he did too, immediately letting go of you.

જ⁀➴ Since Thanos knew what it meant to struggle with mental health he did actually leave you alone for now. But, after the next game, he approached you again and sat down next to you. "I'm sorry about yesterday." he said, patting you on the back.

જ⁀➴ He related to you in a way, but didn't want to ask you about what went on in your private life. Now you just appreciated that he seemingly didn't overstep any boundaries anymore and even checked up from you every now and then.

Se-mi / Player 380

જ⁀➴ You and her had been a duo ever since she came up to you and complimented your looks. Even if you denied it or not, she'd repeat it multiple times, winning you over with her charm quickly.

જ⁀➴ You two had the same mindset on a lot of things, originally voting 'O', thinking you were able to survive one more lousy game. That game was a death scare. Nothing about it was funny anymore. You appreciated your life too much these days to die like this.

જ⁀➴ When the second favor didn't go your way, both Se-mi and you now voting 'X', you felt helpless. One night, the two of you were sitting on her bed, just talking about your past and how you got to this point in the first place. While Se-mi was more secluded, only telling you that 'there are so much worse things she had to face when she got out' you trusted her enough to tell her about a sensitive time in your life.

"I'm not really secretive about this anymore," you pushed your sleeves up, revealing faded scars along your forearm, "but yeah. It was all pretty fucked up. The whole debt thing didn't make it any better." Se-mi looked at you with raised eyebrows, her fingers tracing the lines on your wrists. "I knew you were strong. Don't worry, we'll get out of here."

જ⁀➴ She put in double the work to protect you — She just wanted you to start a better life with that money and be happy, free from debt and all of it.

Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120

જ⁀➴ Hyun-ju noticed from the start that you were more secluded, more prone to cry, panicked easily. It was clear to her that you were struggling with this situation, perhaps even more than that. She made it her task to help you as much as she could, comfort you and keep you close to her and her group.

જ⁀➴ You'd often rant to her and tell her what bothered you after she reassured her she'd take care of anything possible. Hyun-ju was the anker you needed in this shithole and you just appreciated her very much. Everything she did seemed to be out of genuine interest and not just to gain your trust and abuse it.

જ⁀➴ Accidentally, Hyun-ju did catch a glimpse of the scars you were so desperate to hide. She didn't mention it, feeling like it wasn't her place to comment on it. Her heart did break for you, though.

જ⁀➴ From then on, she made sure to speak softer to you and distract you from all the horror around you.

Hyun-ju hugged you tightly against her chest, her arms engulfing your figure. "Tonight things could get a bit scary," she mumbled into your hair while she rested her face against your head, "I just want you to know now rather than find out later. I'll keep you safe, you know that." You just nodded, reciprocating the hug after a few moments.

Nam-gyu / Player 124

જ⁀➴ When he found out, as you didn't make the effort to hide them or anything, he did refrain from provoking you in any way. Nam-gyu related, as he considered his drug use not to be the best thing he could do to his body.

જ⁀➴ Both of you hung around in the same group, since Thanos really wanted you on his team, constantly giving you compliments and flirting with you. It annoyed him to a degree, scoffing everytime Thanos tried to talk to him about how pretty you were, how much he wanted you, give you the world. In Nam-gyu's opinion, he didn't get you.. didn't get what you went through, at all.

જ⁀➴ One evening before lights out, the two of you were teasing each other about something and laughed together — something that rarely occured amongst the other players.

"Want me to show you something?" Nam-gyu asked you, leaning a bit closer. Chuckling, you replied with a 'mhm' and watched him pull up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing skin tracks along the inside of his elbow. You raised an eyebrow: "Oh?" You took his arm to get a closer look, tracing his skin with your fingertips. "Well, we all have our stories, huh?" The man nodded at your wrists, making you look at them too, like you didn't already know what he meant.

જ⁀➴ The both of you grew close to each other, much to his amuse. He was a junkie, you were depressed.. it's like a disaster in the making. But, you didn't care. He was sweet and weirdly kind to you — Not in the way Thanos was. You made sure to hug Nam-gyu a few times more after that, in case it could be the last timd you'd get to do that.

Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

જ⁀➴ You were glad to be on Gi-hun's team from the start, since Dae-ho and you got along really well. As a former Marine, which he was super proud of obviously, he declared he'd protect you immediately after you met, making you laugh.

જ⁀➴ He was kind, strong and funny, but maybe a bit oblivious at times.

During the six-legged pentathlon, you two sat next to each other, cheering the current active team on. Yelling and screaming filled the area as they crossed the finish lind just in time, making everyone erupt in cheers. Dae-ho immediately hugged you with joy, excited to see the five live another day, at least. After pulling back witha laugh, you gave him a small high five with your sleeve rolled back. When noticing scars along your wrist and forearm, the former marine gasped pretty loudly. "What?" you asked with genuine concerning, fearing something was wrong with you. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Dae-ho pulled your sleeve back over your arm. "Dude," he looked at you with wide eyes "it's fine." You needed to hold back a laugh.

જ⁀➴ Dae-ho felt so bad to havs accidentally seen something you've been struggling with, that he couldn't help but apologize profusely. You repeated to him that it wasn't a big deal for you and that you were working on this problem, but he didn't stop nonetheless.

જ⁀➴ You thought it was cute how much he seemed to care for you and how often he came up to you just to tell you that he appreciated you. And Dae-ho did, he didn't just say that to make you feel better.

Park Min-su / Player 125

જ⁀➴ Min-su is just shy over all. When he noticed it, he wouldn't say a thing. He'd be dead silent, maybe even a bit scared to talk to you. He was just scared he'd make it awkward, somehow hinting that he knew about your scars. Min-su was just someone who overthought a lot and even you noticed it.

જ⁀➴ After a bit, it annoyed you — The sudden lack of his presence next to you, the fact that he wouldn't properly talk to you anymore, it was all just weird and confusing. So, you decided to ask him directly.

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice wasn't stern, but Min-su could tell that you were kind of upset. "Ah, no-" he quickly replied back, shaking his head, "it's really not you!" He looked at you with his typical innocent face, making it hard for you to keep pressing him about this matter. "Then what is it, seriously?"

જ⁀➴ He explained what he saw and said that he just felt so sorry. Well, at least he didn't speak to you because he didn't want to hurt or upset you, which was really thoughtful.

જ⁀➴ You'd expect that he would now be the one to comfort you or something, but no it was the complete opposite. Min-su seemed to worried about you and kept asking you how you were feeling or if anything bothered you. You had to keep reassuring him that those times were in the past and that he didn't have to be so worried.

જ⁀➴ It was really cute though, so you let it slide.

Kim Jun-hee / Player 222 (implied fem!reader)

જ⁀➴ Since Jun-hee and you were pretty close in age, you two had found each other right away. You kept telling her that she needed more protection, or at least an ally like you, on her side sincs she was pregnant. You weren't really serious about that, just chuckling when bringing it up, but ut definitely made Jun-hee trust you a lot more. It was a critical situation she was in and she was glad to have you by her side.

જ⁀➴ You even banged on the door in the middle of the night to make the guards take her to the bathroom when she was to shy to do it herself.

As ths pink guard brought you to the womens bathroom, Jun-hee held onto you, clearly being in pain. A few minutes later, you were washing your hands and tried to fix yourself up, looking a bit disgusted in the mirror. "What is it?" Jun-hee emerged from one of the stalls, chuckling. "Man, I look like a damn zombie. Look what this place has done to us." Instead of getting a reply, you noticed that she was staring at your arms, at your scars. You had taken your jacket off for convenience and kind of forgot about them. "Oh, I'm sor-" Jun-hee interrupted you, "No! No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stared like that!"

જ⁀➴ Obviously everyone had their struggles, but now her own kind of seemed insignificant next to yours. You were doing so much for her and she didn't even know that you were struggling. She should've thought of that.

જ⁀➴ When voicing that thought to you, you felt bad that you made her feel like that. With a hug, it was all sorted out. Jun-hee cared deeply for you and she could tell that you cared for her like that, too. It was nice to know that someone had your back in a place like this.

[starryylies]

Simon with a small bubbly reader, like total opposite from Si being big and cold. And she wears like all pink and is very girly and the rest of the team can't believe their together

OPPOSITES ATTRACT

Simon Riley wasn’t really a big fan of colours, or people.

You on the other hand were both.

He doesn’t understand how you can always be so pink for every occasion. Like if he didn’t know you he’d probably think you’re advertising the Barbie movie.

When he first met you he thought you were ‘faking’ your nice attitude but he was proven wrong when you stepped up to help him during a rough patch after a difficult deployment, breaking through his walls brick by brick

Thought you were the happiest person until he saw you crumble while you talked about your past relationships and how badly you were treated and hurt.

This lead to him being angered and sending out a few of his men to do a background check up on your exes who soon won’t be seeing light above the ground anymore

Loves how you can be yourself around him and display your femininity without being judged.

Let’s you paint his nails pink and wears them to work next day because he knows it’s your way of claiming him.

Wearing it to work attracts a lot of attention though, a few people snicker in the background about how stupid he’s looking

While the rest are more astonished to know that their lieutenant is actually dating someone because why there is no other explanation to why he’d have his fingernails painted pink with heart nail-art on the middle finger.

Soap is one of the many people who tries his best to get tea from Simon during break time,

“So ya got y’rself a missus and didn’ even tell yr’ best friend ‘bout it?

Simon just laughs it off and ends the conversation.

Johnny being the persistent penguin he is, decides to show up at Simon’s house bringing Gaz and price as leverage

They’re shocked to see a real not imaginary girl open the door, such a pretty girl at that too

Simon hears the chatter outside and walks up to see if everything’s okay, only to see his team standing on his front porch with a biscuit box to gift in johnnys hand.

You invite them in and serve them snacks while they just stare at the bleak contrast between you and Simon.

You’re the definition of sunshine and well, he‘s just simon

Soap and gaz tease simon on how he managed to ‘bag Such a pretty thing”

While Simon just gives them a glare that says “fuck off”

While price asks for your muffin recipe.

After the boys leave, simon cuddles you right that night an mumbles how he’s so lucky to have you and how much he loves you.

(He got affected by what soap and gaz said about you and how you’re out of his league.)

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆ ੈ✩

Header credits to- @anitalenia

[alana-alana-alana]

And then she let go. When it really counted. And Elphaba was forced to live her life alone! And stand up for her principles alone! And all she wanted was not to be alone anymore!

G(a)linda had a chance. After the Ozdust ballroom, she definitely was starting towards meaningful allyship and a true, deep friendship (/romantic relationship) with this woman. But when push came to shove, she didn't step up. And that is what white people do! We are so often unwilling to put ourselves materially on the line for people of color in our lives, especially Black people.

So as much as I love Gelphie, and have since the early 2000s, I think it is very important to remember that G(a)linda is ultimately a harmful white person. She had an opportunity to be different, but she wouldn't let go of her safety or her ambition to stand up for the Black woman she loved. Maybe another character can do more than that 😏 but she fucking DIDN'T.

(Like don't even get me started on the fact that she accepted the hug from Madam Morrible immediately after everything that Madam Morrible said about her supposed 'best friend.')

TL;DR: Elphaba deserves better. Also - white people who are relating to Elphaba need to think about how we are actually so often G(a)linda.

#She finally had someone to hold her hand

[suni-writings]

Take the pain away.

jude bellingham x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

+18!! mdni

(content warning: unrequited feelings, cheating [unrelated to jude x reader], toxic relationship [also not jude x reader], smut, fingering, unprotected sex [have safe sex pls])

it's been a while since i wrote a jude smut, but you ask and i shall deliver. we have been waiting for this one. heavily inspired by "fuck the pain away (lost tapes 2022)" by tory lanez.

He was exhausted. Not because of football, not because of fame, but because of his best friend. Being physically exhausted was something he was used to — Jude could get rid of it in a few weeks if it resulted in some type of pain. Emotionally, however? He was clueless as to how to heal it, especially since time did nothing but deepen his feelings towards her. It messed up his head, his thoughts got foggy, and he seemed to act out of impulse whenever he was around her. Nothing could really stop him when she was next to him, and that was his doom.

Well, that and her boyfriend. Her hideous, stupid attempt of a man of a boyfriend, whom did nothing but make her feel bad and cheat on her. She wasn’t the girl Jude used to know anymore — the fierce one, who everyone would be scared to even look at her the wrong way. Somehow, that manipulator managed to get her undivided forgiveness every time. It was a never-ending cycle, one that was tearing his mind apart. He was always the one to rescue her, until that dumbass showed up again, promising to be different and acting like a prince for a week.

That night wasn’t any different. The moment his phone vibrated in his pocket and Jude saw who sent the message, he already knew what it was about. And, despite being tired, he still walked up to her house, because she had him at his mercy. He wanted nothing more than to see her okay again, to be her sunshine of her rainy days.

Even if for a single moment only.

She had left the door unlocked for him. Jude carefully got inside, taking a deep breath. He could hear her sobs coming from her room, which he carefully walked up to.

“Princess?” Jude called out softly.

Even in the darkness, he could see her hands coming to dry the tears in her eyes. She sat up, still sniffing, and he sat next to her. He caressed gently her face and wiped another tear.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“What’s the point? You already know what happened. It’s what always happens.” She let out a humorless chuckle and sighed. “I’m sorry. I probably look like shit right now.’

Bellingham took a moment to look — more like admire — her face. Red glimmering eyes, puffy nose, the bite marks on her lip to avoid crying. She still looked breathtaking.

“You look like a mess, honey,” Jude smirked. “But still pretty as ever.”

She gave a small smile, that quickly turned into a grimace, and she looked at him.

“I feel so weak, Jude. I don’t know why I keep letting this happen, I don’t know why I’m so—” she stopped midsentence and laid in bed again, holding back her tears. He was next to her, supporting the weight of his body on his elbow. “Please, take this pain away. I can’t handle this anymore.”

He took a deep breath yet again. There’s not much he could do, and all his options sounded selfish; even if it was for her own good, it also benefited him. Like leaving that project of a man for once and all. He slowly took strands of her hair out of her face, gently outlining her cheek. He avoided looking at her lips, because he couldn’t do anything about it. Especially with her this vulnerable.

“I’m here, princess. What can I do for you?” Jude asked quietly, toying her hair between his fingers.

“Take the pain away.” She begged again and looked into his eyes.

She had no idea how much Jude wanted to do that.

“I can’t do that. I’m not him, I can’t fix his mistakes, but I can—” he bit his tongue when he realized he was about to say too much; to act selfishly, to prove her she could do better, to give her a taste of what she could have.

A few moments of silence fell between them and her eyes searched for his. She leaned closer, as if she got the hint. As if she wanted it too.

Jude could be her temporary relief, he didn’t care. If he could help, he would.

Who was he trying to fool? If he could have her in any way, he would.

“Fuck the pain away. I could fuck the pain away, baby.” He whispered as he looked at her in her beautiful, almost translucent nightgown. “An eye for an eye. Give him a taste of his own poison. You say the word, I’ll do it.”

She leaned even closer to him, her hand gently resting on his face as she caressed his cheek. She bit her lip, thinking. She was desperate, and Jude was right there for her.

If her boyfriend could do it, then so could she.

Without a second warning, to Jude’s surprise, her lips crashed into his, hastily seeking relief. When their tongues touched, she was in a frenzy, and everything started to get blurry.

All she could think was the way Jude kissed and bit her neck, the way his warm tongue descended to her collarbone and threatened to go even lower. The way she tugged, on Jude’s hair, not wanting the moment the moment to end, needing more of his kisses. Of his burning touch.

“Need to take this off, princess.” He muttered against her collarbone, holding the hem of her nightgown. She nodded and stood her arms up so he could easily remove it. “Making this all so easy for me.” He said once he saw her breasts and tossed the nightgown away, biting her nipple before gently sucking it while caressing the other with expertise.

She was already panting. In a single attempt, he brought his covered knee close to her core, and the damp in her panties was undeniable.

That only fueled his anger. That bastard had her and didn’t touch her properly.

His mouth left her breast and moved back to her neck, sucking and biting it while his hand descended to her core and she her back almost arched in anticipation; if he knew she was that touch deprived, he would’ve suggested that a long time ago.

With his hands underneath her underwear, he pressed two fingers against her clit and moved them slowly, pressuring further to see the way her chest rose, the way her cheeks flush and how her mouth opened, too scared to make a sound.

So, without warning, Jude inserted the two fingers inside her and moved them fast, curling them until he found the spot that made her back arch, and the room became filled with moans. He kissed her throat, his mouth vibrating with each moan that came out of her mouth. His movements were precise, fast, and with an urge to prove something that, before he could realize or properly enjoy what he was doing, her walls were closing against his fingers.

“Jude, I’m—” she tried to say, but he smirked against her skin and moved his fingers even harder.

“You’re what? Tell me, baby.” Jude teased her and her back arched. He felt his fingers hurt, but it didn’t matter. Not when she was coming undone in his hands.

“Jude—” she tried to warn again, and he kept moving his fingers, looking at her in the eyes. She struggled to keep them open, trying to keep eye contact.

“Is that everything you know how to say now? My name?” He hit the spot once again and smirked. “I could get used to that.”

Her walls fully clenched around his fingers, and she finally came, seeing stars behind her eyes and leaving a loud moan. It was something she had never experienced so strongly, and she didn’t know if it was because her boyfriend didn’t care about her pleasure or if it was because it was Jude. Maybe the answer was both.

“Fuck.” she muttered, panting. He just smirked, looking into her eyes and leaning away, putting his own fingers in his mouth to taste her.

“Now that’s a very—” his fingers left his mouth with a pop once he made sure to savor the taste. “—very good girl. And a delicious one, if I might add. Could taste you for fucking hours.”

Jude didn’t care if he still had his clothes on. He had a taste of hers, and nothing would stop him now.  If he already couldn’t stop himself before touching, the gods may as well punish him, and it wouldn’t be enough for him to stop.

He kissed her again, making her taste herself before lowering the kisses — from her mouth to the spot under her ear. From her neck to her collarbone. From the valley of her breasts to her stomach. The kisses only lowered. Before he could reach her panties once again, starving, she tugged on her hair.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m too worked up for you to eat me out. Need more.”

He bit his lip and smirked. As much as he wanted to taste her, he wanted to be inside her. He took off his shirt in a swift move and she sat up, crawling closer to him to kiss him and bite his neck. He felt like his skin was on fire and the bulge on his sweatpants only got harder. He took a deep breath.

“You’re not helping, princess.” He sighed.

“Am I not?” Now it was her time to tease. She straddled him and sat right against his crotch, making him almost roll his eyes. “You should take those sweatpants off.” She said as her hands caressed his abdomen.

He quickly turned the position, now on top of her, and took his sweatpants off.

“Good enough for you, princess?” He whispered, leaning closer.

“Better if you took your underwear off.” She smirked.

“Brat.”

Instead of taking his underwear off, he took her panties off in one single move. A risky one, since he could’ve ripped it from how quickly he took it off. He lowered and admired for a moment.

“Such a pretty pussy. A shame you won’t let me eat you out.” He whispered as he looked at her core, gently touching her puffy clit once again. She was stretched, but not enough. He didn’t pay attention to that when he had his fingers inside her — he just wanted to see her pretty face coming.

“Jude.” She called him out with some urgency, and he sighed.

Maybe the gods couldn’t stop Jude, but she could.

He took his underwear off, only now realizing how painfully hard he was. She watched as his cock sprung out, rigid, leaking with too much precum. He bit his lip and put his hand around his cock, spreading the precum slowly. He knew how sensitive he was right now, and he had to hold it back for her. He lined his member with her entrance and slowly dipped inside her.

She moaned loudly and Jude could feel his breath stopping from how tight she was. He gave her some time to adjust to his size.

“This is too much.” She whined.

“Darling, I’m not even moving.” He replied. “Your boyfriend lacks even in that area? He’s truly useless.”

She would’ve chuckled if she wasn’t having a hard time with the way his cock filled her, the burning sensation from the stretch seeming unending.

“It hurts.”

Jude leaned close to her, their lips almost touching.

“It doesn’t, baby.” He thrusted one time, to make her more used to the movements. “I’m taking the pain away. Just feel me here. That’s all you have to do.” He pressed his hand against her belly and thrusted once again, earning a moan and feeling himself from how big he was.

She could do much better than her boyfriend. He wanted to be the much better.

He started properly moving, hard, fast, desperate for his own release as well. To prove her how much better she could be fucked if he was the one doing it. And each time he hit the spot, he could feel her walls clenching. His hand never left her belly, knowing how deep he was going into her. He couldn’t stop.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and held his hair as his movements became more frenetic, moans dripping from her mouth to his ear with anything he did. He moaned whenever she clenched too hard against him.

“You’re so fucking tight.” he muttered, panting, trying to keep the pace. It was taking all of his willpower to not just come already. She didn’t reply, of course. She was too busy scratching his back and moaning desperately.

His movements became more erratic, slower, and, when her walls clenched around him one last time, he spilled everything inside her and fell to her chest, trying to catch his breath.

“Jude?” She called him out once they could properly speak.

“Yeah?”

“Stay. For the night.” She pleaded softly, caressing his back that were marked by the painting her nails had done.

“I wasn’t planning to go anywhere else, princess.” He smiled at her.

Jude held her against his chest, as she peacefully slept. He leaned his chin on the top of her head and, once he was certain she was sleeping, he sighed.

“I can’t take the pain away because I’m not your man.” Jude whispered. “But I wish I was.”

[jinhyun]

—lost in translation.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: a little angst, fluff, best friend’s little brother au, friends to lovers, pininggggg, miscommunication (gone right?)

word count: 5.2k

summary: hyunjin needed answers and he needed them now. even if it meant showing up at your place late at night with a few drinks in his system, ready for things to go either terribly wrong or incredibly right.

warnings: miscommunication, mentions of alcohol and drinking

author’s note: hellooo, and thank you so much for being so patient<3 this is part 23 of my social media au “heart out”. part 24 will be written as well, so don’t worry if there were a few things left unsaid in this one lol. as always, i hope you guys enjoy! if you do, please don’t forget to leave an ask or a comment telling me your thoughts on it<3

Hyunjin was usually a very chill and spontaneous person. He did things when he felt like it, without really giving it much thought. If he wanted to do something and it felt right, then why would he hold back? He could always deal with the consequences of his own actions later.

When it came to you, however, he was the complete opposite.

Ever since he met you, he had been tiptoeing his way around your heart.

He wanted to do things right when it came to you, and, as a result, his interactions with you throughout the years tended to end up with him overthinking instead of doing.

Starting with him hiding his feelings and keeping his interactions with you to the minimum when he was still a high schooler, to him still hiding his feelings while trying to get closer to you when he entered university, to then still say nothing about them when you started dating Mingyu, up until now, that he finally got another shot at getting close to you, yet he still refused to confess his feelings until you were ready to hear it.

And that was the thing, if it were up to him and acting accordingly to how he felt in the moment, he would’ve confessed a long time ago — probably back in his first year of university, particularly when he found out you and Mingyu were dating and he felt like calling you up and letting it all out. But he wouldn’t, because although it would be a huge weight to get off his shoulders, he wouldn’t want you to deal with the burden of knowing he loved you when you didn’t love him back; not like that, at least.

He wouldn’t confess, because he didn’t want you to feel bad for not being there just yet, if ever.

He didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had because of a whim, and so he decided to deal with his feelings on his own. Until he knew for sure that you were ready to hear a confession from him, he wouldn’t say the words out loud to you.

Of course, that was up until this evening.

After coming to the conclusion that Dahye had followed her word and told you about his feelings for you, and having you distance yourself from him ever since, which could only mean you didn’t feel the same and were preparing to turn him down; and, furthermore, after hearing from Yeji that you wouldn’t mind going out with her twenty three year old coworker once you were ready to date again, there was no room in his head for him to think of the consequences of confessing to you anymore.

If you were turning him down anyway, if you were going out with someone else anyway… if he was losing you anyway, then what did he have to lose by finally letting you know how deeply he felt for you?

Maybe it was the alcohol he’d been consuming with his friends that night, or maybe it was just him simply not giving a fuck anymore — maybe both.

Whatever it was, it was giving him the final push he needed, for he was now standing outside your building, ignoring the freezing breeze of the night —as the black cotton sportswear he was wearing did little to nothing to keep him warm—, while he desperately texted you in hopes of you being awake and letting him come up, so you would finally get to talk and turn him down if that’s what you wanted to do in the end.

If you were turning him down at one point in the next two days, he would rather have you do it now.

He felt like he was going insane; like no matter what the outcome was, whether you turned him down or not, he would collapse if he didn’t get an answer within the next few minutes.

When you wouldn’t answer his texts and there were no signs of you being online, he decided to call you instead. He wasn’t giving up that easily that night, if at all.

It only took one missed call and ten more seconds waiting on the line for you to pick up.

“Hyunie?” Your sleepy yet worried voice was enough to quiet his running thoughts down. “Something happened? Are you alright?”

He stayed silent for a moment, staring up at your window.

“Hyunie?” You repeated. He heard you shift in your bed, and then he saw the light in your room turn on. “Are you there?”

“Can I come up?” He asked quietly.

Silence filled the line for a moment. “What?”

“I texted you… I think you didn’t see it” he explained. “I’m outside your building. Can I please come up? I know it’s late, but I need to talk to you now”.

“Y-Yeah… of course” you failed to hide how taken aback you were. “Help yourself in”.

“Okay…”

Hanging up, his eyes went to the front door to your building, and he suddenly felt the weight of what was about to come on his shoulders. But he was already here, and even if he turned around and went home instead, he knew he would not be able to sleep for the second night in a row as long as he didn’t clear things up with you.

He was already here and you were waiting for him upstairs, so he might as well rushed up to you.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Entering the passcode he knew by heart, he made his way into your place; taking off his shoes and putting on the slippers you kept by the door for your guests, which he knew were pretty much his by now.

As expected, all the lights were out except from the one in your bedroom, where he caught you coming out from.

He would never get tired of seeing you barefaced; and the slightly messy hair you were running your fingers through in a quick attempt to fix, along with the pastel pink silk pyjamas you were wearing, could only make him adore you even more. However, you looked tired, and he couldn’t help but feel bad for waking you up.

“Hey” he mumbled, suddenly feeling the madness inside his head calm down at the mere sight of you.

“Hey…” you softly greeted him back, leaning against your doorframe and resting your head on it. “Did something happen?”

He denied with his head, coming closer to you. “Just couldn’t wait anymore to talk to you, I’m sorry”.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, slightly frowning when you got a closer look at him. “Have you been drinking?”

A small, surprised pout formed on his lips. What gave it away? His eyes? Was he reeking of alcohol? Or did you know him so well that a simple look at him was enough for you to tell when something was off?

“Just had a few drinks with the boys, it’s nothing” he brushed it off.

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“No, of course not” he was the one to frown this time. “I’m fine, though”.

You said nothing, but he caught the hesitation in your eyes.

“I’m fine, Y/N” he reassured you one last time. “I didn’t drink that much anyway”.

Just enough for his inhibitions to shut down; not enough not to realise what he was doing.

“Okay…” you decided to believe him.

With a light tilt of your head, you invited him into your room, where the lightning was better — although the dim light coming from the white lamp on your nightstand could only make him feel sleepier.

You sat down on the edge of your unmade bed, as you’d been sleeping up until he called you, and motioned for him to do the same. Once he did, silence was fast to take over.

“Um… I’m not—I wasn’t really prepared to talk about this now,” you messily tried to come up with the right way to approach the issue. “So I don’t know where to begin, if I’m honest…”

He understood what you were feeling perfectly. In all honesty, although he had come all the way over here to get the answer he so badly needed, he, too, didn’t know where to begin.

There was so much to say, so much to ask, so many ways to word his questions, that his mind went blank.

So, he said the first thing he could think of right then.

“Dahye told you, didn’t she?”

You looked distressed at the mention of her, and that was enough for him to get the answer he was dreading. “Sorry?”

“She talked to you?” He rephrased it.

“Mhm…” you nodded, looking down to your lap. “She did”.

“And is that why you’ve been so distant?” Hyunjin asked carefully.

You nodded again, silently. “I’m sorry, I just needed some time to think” your eyes went back up to lock with his. “How’d you know she talked to me?”

“She kinda threatened me with telling you, so…” he rolled his eyes.

“Oh… that’s…”

Crazy. She was crazy.

Hyunjin nodded, not needing to hear any words coming out of your mouth to understand what you wanted to say. “I know. I should learn not to underestimate her”.

“Yeah, I probably should, too…” you smiled weakly. “Good thing I realised something was off and didn’t believe her in the end”.

“Wait, what?” His eyebrows furrowed.

Something was off? You didn’t believe her?

“I didn’t believe her,” you repeated. “I was a bit shaken up at first, and that’s why I took some distance from you. I just needed to think about it with a cold head, but all along I didn’t want to believe it was true, so ultimately I didn’t. It didn’t sound like you at all”.

Was he tripping? Was he really way more drunk than he thought for your words to make no sense to him?

“You didn’t… want to?” Hyunjin’s heart ached, mostly hung up on those words of yours. “Would it be that bad if it was true?”

“Yes,” you replied in a heartbeat. “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself fall for you if that was the case, Hyunjin”.

I wouldn’t be able to let myself fall for you if Dahye will always be there and I knew you’d go back to her whenever you get tired of me; is what you meant.

It would be bad if it was true that you’re in love with me, because I wouldn’t be able to let myself fall for you and ever love you back; is what he heard.

Just like that, for the fourth time in his life, once again because of you, his heart broke.

Although he’d come here knowing well enough that getting turned down by you was a very high possibility, actually hearing you so tactlessly say those words to him right then, and getting every chance of ever being with you crushed into pieces just like that, had his heart hurting in a way it had never before.

Feeling physically ill and finding it hard to breathe, he stood up, pacing around your room for a few seconds before he looked for support on the wall by leaning his back on it.

This might’ve been his worst heartbreak yet, for unlike the previous times, he’d let himself be led on. This time, he really thought that there was something going on between the two of you. All the reciprocated flirting and touches… had it all been him? Did you really not realise what you’d been doing to him all along?

“Hyunie…” you whispered, feeling your own heart break at the sight of him and going up to him, unable to give into your own sorrow as he seemed to have just confirmed that what Dahye told you was indeed true.

He closed his eyes as he tilted his head up to keep the tears from coming out of them.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

He defeatedly shook his head when you placed your hand on his shoulder, rubbing his hands on his eyes to wipe the oncoming tears before he tried to walk away. “I’m sorry, this wasn’t a good—I can’t, I should leave” he apologised.

“So it’s true then?” You asked, grabbing his wrist for him to stay.

He shook his head no, and for just a moment there you felt relief, before he finally turned around and looked at you with reddened eyes. “Of course it’s true” his bottom lip trembled. “Why wouldn’t it be? Did I really get it all wrong?”

Your eyebrows knitted together, understanding this entire situation less and less by the second. “Get what wrong?”

“This,” he repeatedly pointed his finger from you to him. “Us. Whatever it is that I thought was going on between us”.

“Hyunjin…”

“I knew I was getting my hopes up too fast, but I thought,” he paused for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief over his own delusions. “All this time I thought what kept holding you back was our age gap, but turns out the problem was never my age, but me”.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’d be willing to go out with that one other guy who’s also my age, so it was clearly never the problem”.

“What guy?”

“You know what guy”.

“Felix?” You pinpointed, not really knowing any other guys his age. Not like you particularly knew Felix either anyway. “I’m not going out with him”.

“You said you wouldn’t mind him being twenty three, though”.

“Because I don’t care about age, not because I want to date him” you tried to defend yourself. “Weren’t you the one who told me to consider dating younger guys?”

“Exactly, I told you that. Me. I said it so you would at some point consider me, not so you would start looking at other guys my age” he clarified.

“Hyunjin, I’m not—Why does age suddenly matter so much to you?”

“Because if you’re willing to date a guy who’s three years younger than you, then why can’t it be me?!”

You froze.

During all the years you had known him, you had never seen him lose his temper. He was always calm, rational. Had he ever even raised his voice in your presence other than when he got excited about something?

This was a side of him you’d never seen before, and it broke you.

Seeing him look so hopeless and sound so defeated right then, made you feel like holding him and never let go of him.

Things were moving too fast, though, and when you wanted to reach for his face and wipe the tear that had just rolled down one of his cheeks, he beat you to it; harshly wiping his face with his hands, as he refused to look away from you.

“All this time I’ve done nothing but pour my heart out to you. I’m so… so fucking in love with you it hurts me, Y/N. There are times when it physically pains me to love you this much,” he confessed.

Right now, it was one of those times.

“I’ve done everything in my hands for you to stop seeing me like the teenage boy you met back then, for you to stop seeing me just like Yeji’s little brother, and I know you’re not ready for a relationship yet, but I was willing to wait for as long as you needed me to until you were, because I was delusional enough to believe that I could actually make you fall for me” a breathless, humorless laugh abandoned his lips. “And now it turns out you just won’t ever feel the way I feel for you, and this guy shows up out of nowhere and gets everything I’ve tried to get from you right away without even moving a finger, and I just… I don’t know where to go from here”.

Your heart squeezed inside your chest.

Of all the things you were expecting as the outcome of your talk, a confession wasn’t one of them. Not this kind of confession, at least.

You were speechless. Not only did you not know what to say, but even if you did, you were sure your voice would betray you by not coming out when you opened your mouth.

Hyunjin loved you.

It wasn’t just a crush like you thought. It wasn’t him looking for something casual like you feared. No, he loved you. He was serious about you.

Why did you feel so happy yet so afraid about his feelings for you being so strong?

He took a step towards you, and you felt your heartbeat raise when his face was only a couple of inches away from yours and his breathing began to mix with yours.

“I don’t wanna give up on you, Y/N, I don’t. But I just don’t kn—What do I have to do for you to consider me?” He asked, pulling you closer by your waist. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“I’m not going out with him, Hyunjin” you repeated in a whisper, hoping this time he would believe you.

Whether he believed you or not, he leaned in closer, faintly brushing his nose with yours. “What do I have to do for you to give me a chance then?”

“Hyun…”

“I’ll do anything,” he said, cupping your face and making you lock eyes with him. “Just tell me what and I’ll do it”.

You slowly shook your head no, unable to get any kind of word out of your mouth. Was it not obvious enough already that you did feel something for him? Had the way you talked to him and how you acted around him not been enough for him to get that you liked him as something more than just a friend? As way more than just your best friend’s brother?

You couldn’t find the right words to tell him that. The only thing you could do was to stare into his eyes, and then down into his lips, feeling the tension between the two of you grow by the second.

Hyunjin caught up on that immediately, leaning closer, so he could brush his mouth on yours for a second, before he closed the gap that kept them from touching.

Only you beat him to it.

Had you waited one more second, he would’ve been the one to press his lips on yours.

But you did not.

Instead, you were the one to press your mouth on his.

You were the one to kiss him first.

You were kissing him.

And he froze.

His right hand was still cupping your face, his left one remained on your waist, and his eyes had naturally closed the moment he felt the heavenly pressure of your lips on his. But he froze nevertheless.

For the first few seconds, he was too stunned, too overwhelmed —in the best way possible— to even react. And, unfortunately, a few seconds was all the kiss lasted; for he missed your touch right when he was about to kiss you back.

“I’m sorry” you apologised right as you pulled away and covered your mouth with your hands, as if only then coming to your senses. “Hyunie, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t—”

That was as much as you got to say, for in a second he had already removed your hands from your mouth and replaced them with his lips.

You’d be damned if you thought you could get away with letting him get a taste of your lips only to deprive him of you all over again.

You kissed him back right away, going against your poorly attempted apology, and driving him crazy when you wrapped your arms over his shoulders. His hands that had been previously cupping your face were now on your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he tried to feel you as close to him as he could.

He kissed you like he needed you, like he’d been deprived of you for decades and was only now allowed to get a taste of you; and yet, he managed to be so gentle that you were left craving more by the second, whilst wanting him to kiss you just like that for a little longer.

After all, you didn’t know he had been dreaming of this moment for nearly seven years now.

Just like you, he, too, started wanting more. Pulling your hips harder against his and getting a small gasp of yours to part your lips, he took the chance to delve his tongue in your mouth — unable to keep the corners of his lips from curving slightly up when he felt your tongue massage his right back.

With your breathings becoming heavier, and without even dreaming of letting go of your lips just yet, Hyunjin made you take a couple of steps back, until your legs reached your bed and you instinctively sat down on it, allowing him to lean over you as he followed your mouth.

“You’re drunk…” you managed to whisper, right after you laid back on the mattress and his mouth sucked on your bottom lip once more.

“I’m fine, I’m fin—I’m perfect” he whispered in between kisses.

He was perfect. Being with you like this, with him hovering over you while your fingers gently dug into his hair and your mouths so deliciously sucked on each other, he could not be anything other than perfect.

Kissing you felt like a dream, and a part of him was afraid that it was one.

“No, Hyunjin…” you mumbled, only a couple of seconds later. “We shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Why not?” He asked, pulling slightly away from you — not enough for your lips to stop brushing.

“I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship right now” you confessed what his sister had told him earlier that night and, therefore, what he already knew. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have kissed you”.

“No, don’t be sorry for kissing me. Anything but that, Y/N. You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to kiss you all this time” he tenderly ran his thumb up and down on your cheekbone. “I can wait until you’re ready. Starting tomorrow morning I’ll wait all you need me to, but right now just… let me kiss you for a little longer”.

Having him whisper those words when his mouth was faintly touching yours, could only make you feel yourself give in to his plea.

“Hm?” He asked, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. “One more and I’ll stop”.

Unable to speak, as it seemed to be the norm that night, you closed your eyes; and that was enough for him to take the hint and replace the thumb on your bottom lip with his mouth, sweetly sucking on it before he softly traced it with his tongue, for you to let him in and meet him midway.

The desperation of your second kiss was no longer there, as he now took his time to engrave in his memory every single second of your mouth sucking on his and your tongue massaging his own. He didn’t know when he would ever get to kiss you again, after all, and he wanted to take in as much as he could of it.

He wanted to take his time now; and kiss you slowly, deeply, lovingly.

When you were both left panting for air, he rested his forehead on yours, cupping your nape with his hand and digging his fingers in your hair before he hid his face in the crook of your neck, as a breathy laugh abandoned his mouth.

“You’re driving me crazy” he confessed.

“I should be the one saying that,” you chuckled rather sadly. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me anymore, Hyunjin…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re confusing me so much right now. You say you love me and you make me feel so special, but then you go and…” you sighed, feeling him slowly withdraw his face from your neck as he tried to understand your point. “I wish it was that easy, but I can’t let myself fall for you now that I know what Dahye said is true”.

“I swear you’re making me question how much I actually drank, because that doesn’t make any sense and—You can’t do this to me, Y/N” his piercing eyes fixed on yours, and the way his voice sounded so calm now could only make your body tense up under him. “You can’t just kiss me and then tell me that…” he sighed, attempting to collect his thoughts. “If you don’t feel ready for a relationship I get it, and I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as you need me to, baby, that’s never been a problem. But you can’t just tell me that you’ll never love me back and then kiss me only to turn m—”

“When did I ever say I’d never love you back?” You questioned.

“When we were talking earlier?” He tilted his head in confusion. “I asked you if it would be so bad if what Dahye told you was true and you said yes”.

“Yes,” you agreed. “Because I can’t put myself through the hell your messy relationship with her would bring me”.

His eyebrows knitted together. “What messy relationship?”

“You know…” you avoided his eyes, only then being hit with how much the thought of him with someone else actually affected you. “This whole ‘fuck buddies’ thing and you going back to her no matter who you are with”.

“That’s ridiculous” he blurted out, almost offended that such an atrocity had just left your mouth. “Where did you even get that from?”

“That’s what Dahye told me” you said.

“That’s what…” the puzzle pieces finally connected in his head. “Is that why you said you wouldn’t be able to fall for me?”

“Yes?” You tilted your head questioningly. “Isn’t that what we were talking about all along?”

He should be mad at Dahye right then. He should want to scream at her for playing with the two of you like this.

Any other time, he would’ve been fuming. Right then, however, with your troubled expression as you didn’t get what was going on, with your pretty lips all swollen from how hard he’d been kissing you up until a minute ago, and having experienced such a wide range of emotions in a matter of minutes, he could only laugh.

Tilting his head back and letting a throaty laugh escape his mouth, he slumped back next to you on your mattress and covered his face with both hands, as he let his laughter take over him.

Nervousness, madness, embarrassment, relief, happiness; it was all mixed up into one loud, painful laughing fit.

He felt like a maniac, feeling you stare at him in worry and obliviousness, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop laughing.

“What’s so funny?” You wondered when he struggled to catch his breath.

“She lied” he explained, finally feeling like his laughter was coming to an end.

“She lied?”

“She lied” he confirmed, removing his hands from his face and wiping a couple of tears off his eyes before he locked them with you. “I don’t like her at all, Y/N. We hardly ever even talk, why would I—” he took in a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling as he felt like he was going crazy. “Can’t believe I cried for nothing”.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth, both over his last remark and over how relieved you felt to know it was all been a misunderstanding, and that you had been right not to believe her in the first place.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t clear enough” you pouted, gently cupping his face when he turned to you.

He shook his head no, letting you know it was okay as he placed his hand on yours. “I didn’t specify either, so I was at fault, too” he smiled softly. “And we probably wouldn’t have ended up kissing if I hadn’t gotten so heated up anyway, so it was totally worth it”.

“You’re an idiot” you laughed once again, smiling when he leaned in and rested his forehead on yours.

“You still kissed me, though” he pointed out, bringing some heat to your cheeks. “Does that mean I actually have a chance now?”

“Was me kissing you not a good enough answer to that?”

“Kisses can mean nothing to some people, so…”

“I’m not one of those people, Hyunie” you let him know.

“Good,” he smiled, pulling you to his chest. “Because kissing you meant everything to me”.

You wrapped an arm around him, nuzzling the fabric of the black sweatshirt he was wearing and taking in his scent you loved so much.

“Shouldn’t we properly talk about what Dahye told us?” You mumbled.

“That, and about where we’re standing now, too” he agreed, sweetly tracing his fingertips up and down your back. “My head hurts now, though. I feel like I’m spiraling, I went through too many emotions in too little time”.

You giggled, looking up at him. “You want to continue this conversation tomorrow? When we’re both a little less overwhelmed?”

“Yeah…” he nodded. “I can sleep peacefully now that I know you feel something for me, too”.

You chuckled, making his bottom lip stick out in confusion when you pulled away from him and sat up on your bed. “It’s late, you can sleep here tonight. I’ll take the couch”.

He grabbed your wrist before you could get up. “Stay with me?”

“Hyun…” you hesitated.

“I won’t try anything, I promise” he was fast to say, well aware of where your hesitation was coming from. “Just need to feel you close tonight”.

If he was honest, any other time, he would’ve offered to take the couch and that would’ve been the end of it, but tonight he really needed your closeness. He needed to know you were there, to feel you next to him. And, thankfully for him, you needed just the same.

Silently motioning for him to get under the covers, you let him know you agreed to his request. He smiled widely, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek before he did as told — making you laugh wholeheartedly when you got under the sheets as well and he wasted no time to pull you to his chest again and to tuck you in with him.

This entire day had been a mess. Hell, the whole fucking week had been unbearable. But you had been able to talk it out at last. Although messily, you now seemed to be on the same page about everything; from your feelings, to what you were looking for, to where the whole misunderstanding had originated.

This may not have been the conversation the two of you were expecting to have, but it was coming soon enough. Tonight, you could just go to sleep in each other’s arms, knowing what each other’s lips felt and tasted like, and with the certainty that your feelings were reciprocated.

Neither of you would have it any other way.

tag list: @jehhskz @iknowyouknowminho @doohnut @saintcosette @lailac13 @kayleefriedchicken @rikibun @yongbokkiesworld @seungzsmin @beautifulcolorgarden @hyunetopia @velvetmoonlght @automaticpersonabatpaper @httpdwaekki @brinnalaine @wondering-out-loud @feelikecinderella @nujeskz @amarecerasus @liknws @nhyunn @midsoulz @tirena1 @tinyelfperson @thatonexcgirl @iovecb97 @hynier @phenomenalgirl9 @your-favorite-pirate @jin-from-the-block @yearofthetiger25 @quokkacidal @stayconnecteed @kwanisms @yoonguurt @143hyunes @iiriam @cookielixie @hyunlvrs @allyrarara @machaandlofi @mehli-00 @justiceforvillains @minhosprettywife @whats-my-question @armystay89 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hyeon-yi @skzstannie @onlyhyunjin

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill To Die On

This is most of Chapter 1, cutting before the smut. IT DOES GET SPICY THOUGH. 🌶️⚠️ Some of this has been posted before, but figured I'd give you all one nice big chunk of it!

Tim brush his hand idly through his damp hair as he stepped out of the shower.

It had gotten long.

He hadn’t planned to grow it out, it just sort of happened. He’d gotten it cut last summer before he started his sophomore year of college. The start of the semester had bled into midterms. Midterms had proceeded papers and projects. Projects had become final presentations and exams. Classes ended abruptly into a too short winter break of Tim visiting Cass and her team then dragging her home for Christmas. The New Year had been filled with Titans and teammates and fireworks.

He might cut it when it started getting to muggy. Spring had barely broken into the city. It was warm enough not to need heavy coat but cool enough Tim could still wear his favorite leather jacket he’d stolen from Jason. It was a good time of the year.

His hair really had gotten long.

As long as the wig Tim wore when he became Caroline. He tugged at the ends of the hair where, if he tilted his head down to look up under his lashes, the black strands brushed the top of his shoulders.

Tim hadn’t been Caroline Hill in a long time now.

Or Alvin Draper.

Or Timothy Drake— CEO to be.

He hadn’t been anyone, really. Instead he had been struggling to find out who Tim Wayne was beyond the expectations of dead parents, missions hidden behind masks, and under the weight everyone else’s needs.

He still really didn’t know.

It felt more like a game of finding out what he wasn’t than falling into what he was. Or what he liked to be.

He could be a ruthless businessman, but that was Timothy Drake, wasn’t it? That was his father’s Jack’s legacy and Janet’s cold, confident smile. He didn’t like being that.

He didn’t like being them.

He could be whatever the mission needed. He could do recon, hacking, infiltration, fighting—a replacement, like Jason said. The word didn’t have the same sting that it used to. Replacement. It was almost a word of respect now. It had taken a lot of talking (and a lot of alcohol) for Jason and Tim to get somewhere good, but they both got it now. Red Robin was whoever the team needed.

He was tired of having to fill in cracks.

He beyond tired of just existing for everyone else’s needs.

The weight of that had nearly broken him.

Had broken him.

Tim watched the black strands of hair slip over the spider web of scars on his left hand.

Bruce had assured him that there would always be a place with the Bats if Tim still wanted it. Tim didn’t know if he would. Tim refused to just fill in the space that was left open anymore. It took a lot of sessions with his Justice League approved therapist for Tim to even get to that line in the sand, but he understood how important it was now.

He had to stop being the replacement. The other Robin. The other son.

It was a problem.

Another problem was, he didn’t always think he was Tim Wayne, even with the pieces that he was slowly learning.

Tim dug around under his sink, coming up with the purple case he’d stolen from Steph to keep Caroline’s things in. The robin red lipstick was on the top. Slowly he uncapped it and smeared it almost recklessly across his lips.

Tim no longer stared back out from the mirror.

Maybe Caroline deserved a night out.

It had been a long time, after all.

-

Clothing was an issue.

Tim had grown. Not much mind, but enough that the shoulders were a little tight and bottoms a little short. Well, the bottoms weren’t a huge matter in that moment. Caroline wanted to go out to a club after all; they could work with a too short skirt. The top though… Caroline adjusted the black strap of the lacy bra. Even with the right padding in, it still didn’t look right.

She chewed on her lower lip, still messily smeared with bright red, as she held another top up against her chest. That wouldn’t do either. Caroline gave the box of old clothing a little kick. Hum. She should paint her toenails.

Focus, Caroline.

It was time to look outside of her box.

Fifteen minutes and a pair of scissors later and one of Alvin’s too large and nondescript red t-shirts had become a drop shoulder crop top. It wasn’t the most amazing fit, but as she dressed it up with the right necklace looped a few times around her throat, a splash of red and leather in the bracelets (cover the scars, they were identifying marks), she figured she could pull off the look—at least for getting sweaty in some dark club.

Ever grateful for quick drying polish, Caroline did a rush job of all her nails and waved them impatiently dry before she did her make up properly. Some contouring, false lashes, the right highlights, step by step Caroline felt herself come alive again until staring back from there mirror was no Tim or Timothy or Alvin—just her.

Just Caroline.

She let out the breath she had been holding.

-

Finding the right club took a little bit. Her old favorite had shut down, apparently. That wasn’t uncommon with the short lifespan of clubs and even less so in Gotham with the money laundering and drug rings that often went with the clubs, but it still sucked. Caroline wanted somewhere that if someone got very handsy on the dance floor there wouldn’t be issue with everything that was carefully and securely tucked away in her underwear. The person might not want all that, which was perfectly fine as long they parted ways amicably.

(And if not, well, one of her bracelets could be shockingly persuasive.)

She tucked her fake ID back away in the hidden pocket of her bra, not minding the bit of a show it gave. Tim would have to make her a new one; she didn’t needed the fake age anymore. Then, with a steadying breath, she entered the thudding music, bright lights, and throng of bodies of the club. It took a moment to adjust to it all. This wasn’t always Caroline’s favorite thing, but they needed to relax already. Any tenser and something was going to snap.

Besides, this is where the boys failed and Caroline thrived; slipping between bodies, flirting, giving enough to capture attention without actually giving anything away. Dealing with a mass of people was a complex game of chess and Caroline very much intended to be the conquering queen.

The bar was the first stop, ordering a fruity martini so that she could sip at the drink and people watch for a time. It was always good to get a feel for things before diving in. It also gave her time to get used to being her again as she fielded a few flirtatious advances which landed her another drink in turn for the first dance of the night with her. She didn’t linger long.

She wasn’t sure what she was in the mood for. Caroline flitted across the dance floor from partner to partner, just letting herself enjoy the thud of the beat and the press of bodies. She always moved on before people could get too invested (or too handsy).

Caroline was on the edge of the floor, slipping away from one dance and looking for the next when a laughing group at a close by table shoved one of their number her way. She took a tentative step back, but didn’t actually need to. The poor sacrificial lamb found his footing rather gracefully.

He ducked his head with a crooked smile that was actually somehow charming. “Sorry about them.”

“Stay on target, Danny!” someone called from the table to cheers and jeers.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Really sorry. Just, ah, I maybe have been talking about how pretty you are and how much I want to dance with you for, like, the last twenty minutes. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if this is rude, but would you like to dance?”

Caroline tilted her head and tried not to smile in too predatory a way. “You’ve been watching me?”

“It’s hard not to, with how you move.”

She laughed at that. This one was so earnest. That was odd for Gotham.

“Once dance,” Caroline said, holding out a hand. “Unless you have the moves and then maybe you’ll get more.”

Danny took the hand and brushed a kiss against it. “One dance, to start.”

-

Despite any doubts that Caroline might have had, Danny knew how to move. She’d lost count of the song they had danced to about the time that Danny’s hand had first slid up her shirt. She rolled her hips, grinding back against Danny’s tight jeans and growing arousal. Danny followed her lead beautifully.

His teeth scrapped lightly against her neck and she threw back her head for him, letting him suck a mark into her skin. She enjoyed the thought of Tim being stuck with a reminder of her night out. (Maybe it would convince him to have some fun of his own.)

Danny’s hand slid down from where it had been cupping a breast, traced over her stomach, and moved to her skirt. Caroline caught it before Danny could do more than slip a few fingertips past the band.

“Sorry,” he murmured into her ear.

“Not that,” Caroline said. She turned her head to press a kiss against the corner of Danny’s mouth, smearing robin red against his tan skin. “Just need to let you know there’s more down there than you might be expecting.”

She held her breath as tightly as she held Danny’s hand. It this went bad, she wanted to be able to act quickly.

Danny’s huff of air sounded amused.

She relaxed her grip slightly.

The hand slipped a little lower.

“To me, any combination of bits is a good combination. I’m up for all sorts of surprises,” Danny assured her. His fingers ran over just the top edge of her underwear, not really touching anything, but applying just enough pressure that she shuddered. “She’ okay to use?”

“Yes. She, her, Caroline.”

“Caroline.” Danny said her name like it was a prayer.

She guided his hand a little lower.

His touch stayed almost teasing and Caroline had to alternate between pressing forward into his hand and grinding backwards against him until Danny pulled them so close together that she could barely move. And fuck, it had been too long for any of them. She half thought that if she put in the effort, or Danny’s hand dipped any lower, that she could manage to come right there on the dance floor.

That was not how she wanted tonight to go.

She ran her hands through Danny’s hair and tilted his head where she wanted it. So that she could nip at his ear lobe. “Tell me you live close.”

“In walking distance.”

[sealinredshoes]

ok, the op of this may be trolling us, but let's imagine for a moment how WONDERFUL it would be to not be a child anymore and discovering the entirety of greek mythology. Like, I'm from the side that were fed greek mythology since we were still in our mother bellies, and I just accepted every single bullshit from the mythology even what's deemed like a fever dream very quickly, zero questioning.

Like, Zeus married his sister? Seems legit. He swallowed his first wife ? Well it was a contingency plan so ok. Dionysus died once ? Well, he got better so, who cares ?

I have seen some people saying they would pay for re-reading their favourite saga for the first time, maybe I would pay for rediscovering greek mythology for the first time with adult eyes.

So, OP, if you really just started learning about this mythology, good for you, you're gonna have do much fun !

Update : OP is actually perfectly sincere, no troll here, only an ocean of new possible memes for him.

this website’s easy watch. *dangles a bunch of greek gods like keys*

[dokidokitsuna]

GameSwap!AU #2

Thank @earthykinous for this idea; I saw it in the tags of the first GameSwap and immediately knew I had to give it a try ^^

-Taranza seems like a very ‘devoted’ character, the kind who very easily latches on to personal influences…so as part of the HWC, I think he would be just as involved with the Mother Computer as Haltmann, maybe even more so, just to be able to share something with him. Just in general, he’d be agonized about his father not recognizing him anymore, and desperate to prove his worth despite it, trying to replace familial love with company loyalty in a VERY toxic-positive way. ^^ And besides, if he uses that control helmet often enough, maybe he’ll lose all his painful memories too… And in this scenario…maybe the reason Haltmann dies is because he sacrifices himself to Star Dream to save Taranza somehow, finally recognizing his son when he realizes he’s about to lose him again. OR, maybe he just feels like Taranza is too important to lose without knowing why, leaving only Taranza to bear the true emotional weight of that sacrifice.

-I think Susie is a more mature character than Taranza– despite her sad backstory, she seems to handle her situation well during the game, and doesn’t even seem that affected by Haltmann’s death post-game. If it’s not maturity, at the very least it’s a much lower level of emotional attachment.

So how would she go about dealing with her crush mutating into a tyrannical insect queen? I think she would actually just lose respect for her, and end up turning on her.

Despite staying by her side and aiding in her conquest, she would secretly be plotting her downfall: praising and obeying Sectonia to her face, while trying to undermine her in the background…keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say. Rather than mistakenly capturing the wrong ‘Hero of the Lower World’, Susie would’ve picked Dedede on purpose, knowing that Kirby was the ‘real’ hero who would come to save him AND defeat Sectonia. She’d then pretend to oppose him throughout the game, throwing challenging bosses his way to prepare him to face the Queen…and finally, she’d reveal her true motivations once Dedede has been freed.

But maybe, just to bring back the stakes and drama…maybe Sectonia overhears this reveal, and enters the scene. Through the ensuing argument, we could learn a bit about how Sectonia became evil in the actual game, and have Susie basically call her out, admitting to her treachery and daring her Queen to do something about it. To throw away the last shred of their former friendship, once and for all.

Which Sectonia does, of course, and from there the rest of the game could proceed like normal. Only, I think Susie’s characterization as a tough-yet-caring friend and a twist-hero would make her return with the Miracle Fruit a lot more satisfying. Rather than failing to see how evil Sectonia had become until it personally affected her, she knew exactly how far-gone she was, and put her life on the line to try and wake Sectonia up.  And despite losing that gamble, despite witnessing her friend choose to become a monster in more ways than one, she survived and came back to help us end the battle. ^^ I think that would be really heartwarming~

[iwashie]

Sevika, and reader on her period headcanon...

Sevika is in her late 30s and probably doesn't suffer with her period-or do-, but dating a younger woman, at the peak of hormones and period, makes her think about her time and asks herself how she handles you and all your versions during it.

She knows your period is coming by just seeing your breasts swelling, some complaints about your back hurting, and mood changing during the day as you always do but never remember it's that time of the month.

She always has a lot of pads, your favorite food stockpiled, medicine for your various pains, always ready to massage your back, legs and belly, brings you a lot of water and a hot water bottle for cramps.

"Doll, it's normal to have a period. Don't be angry or disgusting for it. I know you don't like having pains, and all that stuff period brings on, but it's normal. And you have me by your side."

Your mood swings are a challenge for her, but she handles somehow. Just like the day you two were walking around Zaun, enjoying a street food you begged her to buy and then she notices you're not by her side, looking back to see you stuck in the place, your eyes on the ground, on your food on the ground. She immediately ran back to you, soothing you as your eyes filled with tears and mumbled that you haven't even bitten. "That's alright, doll. Have mine and everything is fine."

Or the day she made a joke at the wrong time and wrong place, making everyone at the table in Last Drop alternate gaze between you two just to look away when you lashed out on her and left the place without her. Or the day a woman looked at her for too long, and you had to show that woman that your woman was your woman. Or tried to throw punches at every man whistling at you- Ran had to stop you and Sevika at this one.

She thought your period cravings were something else. Why so much sugar?!? It's was possible worse than pregnancy cravings. "Are you on your period, or are you pregnant?

"I'm craving something sweet, like really sweet." You said, searching for something in the cabinets. "Have some sugar." You looked at her with fire on your eyes, and she felt a cold sweat run down her back. "What about some chocolate cake, ice cream, or some food deep-rooted with sugar? I'll buy it, doll."

She can't keep up with your energy, always accepting whatever you want and following behind you everywhere with a scowl, but making sure you're good, safe, and happy. She doesn't understand how you have so much energy left after doing a lot of things during the day to her about your day and plans, just to fall asleep suddenly.

She also handled you crying over everything and making traps for her, like asking her if she'd love you if you were a worm, or her worst nightmare: "Would you love me if I was from topside?" and her long silence was answer enough for you to start weeping. "Doll, it's just a dumb thought. Of course I'd love you and gonna be with you forever. I promise!"

She prefers to handle you when you are calmer, too sore to handle the world on your back, and stays in bed, being doted by her. She always cuddles you, her human hand on your belly to warm it up, whispering sweet nothings or watching a movie with you, both wrapped in the blankets. "I love you too, doll."

Maybe the best thing about your period is the much horniness you have during it. Your wild side is always showing up at this time of the month; always teasing her with dirty whispers, handsy. She loves fucking you, making love to you, making you cum and all. But, damn, you've come three times already, and you're looking at her with those eyes again, and she isn't young anymore, she needs to catch her breath. "Please, Vika. Just one more. You can use your fingers on me this time. Pleaseee."

She loves it when you are horny and take the lead, playing with yourself, teasing her until she does something about it and makes slow, tender, sweaty love to you. "Fuck, doll. Your pussy is so wet and creamy for me, gotta fuck it properly, huh. Do you want this? Want my cock deep inside your pussy? Good girl, doll..."

Your crazy ideas always caught her by surprise. She is sure that these ideas are made up before your period, and you only come with them to blame on the "period hehehe"

"You know what? I really want-" "Please, a normal thing for once." "You to impregnate me." A silence in the room. "Impossible, doll." "What do you mean it's important? DON'T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?!?" "It's biological Impossible to get you pregnant with my babies." "Well. We gotta keep trying, vika!"

Your low self-esteem is the biggest problem, like how she's gonna put inside your head that you are the most beautiful person in Zaun? The prettiest woman she's ever laid eyes on! "Your body is completely fine! Your skin is normal! You're not fat, square, or I don't know! Your clothes are completely fitting, you're fucking beautiful and perfect. The only woman for me, doll!"

At the end of your period, she would be exhausted, needing vacations away from Zaun, but glad to have you surviving another period without trying to kill her and every other Zaun citizen. She would be so glad to have her girl back, not that you're much different but still.

@iwashie 2025, please do not translate, modify or republish my works