#I feel like these tag games are making a comeback? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitchlessdino · 8 days ago

Text

mind your business (m)

Pairing: Frenemy!fem!reader x minder reader!chan

Genre: supernatural comedy, smut

Word count: 12.4k

tags: mean!reader, mean!chan, mentions needing to puke or die (both overdramtic af), implied consent (mind reading about desire and wants without audible consent), names (good girl or dirty girl), claustrophilia, stocking ripping, fingering, cunniligus, rough sex, brief spanking, unprotected sex.

Summary: If Chan had to read anyone’s mind, it had to be yours—the one person who seemed to loathe him with every ounce of your being. But before Halloween day, when that wish is suddenly granted, he begins to realize he’s opened a can of worms far bigger than he ever imagined—one that can’t be sealed shut again.

author note: hello, this bitch late but at least she's here thank you for @diamonddaze01 and @haologram for betareading for me i love yall and eveyone else enjoy!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys

“I don’t know what to be for Halloween.”

“Well, right now what you’re wearing is pretty scary.”

Lee Chan had never met anyone he couldn’t knock down a peg—not that he ever had to try. Everyone adored him, from classmates to coworkers, even Seungkwan, who followed his playful jabs with free lunches instead of a comeback. He was easygoing, always getting along with everyone. That is until you infiltrated his friend group. You weren’t like the others, and for the first time, Chan wasn’t sure if his effortless charm would be enough to dissolve your natural snark.

Chan shot you an unamused smile, his eyes narrowing as you answered his question. The two costumes he held drooped at his sides, a patient frustration written all over his features. “What are you even doing here if you won’t help me?”

You lifted your half-filled glass, the chill of the drink seeping through your fingers. “The free drinks, of course.”

“Of course,” he echoed dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Well, maybe leave the opinions to those who actually care, like Soonyoung here?”

Soonyoung beamed up at Chan, his excitement bubbling over as he playfully tugged at his friend’s hand like an overly enthusiastic toddler. “Aww, always here for you, buddy!”

You couldn’t resist a jab. “Well, if you did something interesting for once in your life, maybe I wouldn’t have to entertain myself.”

Chan groaned, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Never mind. I’m just going to pick something else. Make yourself useful and try to stay quiet, okay?”

You scoffed, getting up from the sofa seat. “Whatever. I’m gonna find something to eat.”

Chan tried his best to stay positive around you, but it was difficult when every social encounter turned into a game of mental chess. But instead of being an actual opponent, you acted like the master, playing with his temperament as if he were merely a pawn. It was exhausting—trying to keep things cordial while knowing you were always pushing his buttons, testing tolerance, and working against him as if your sarcastic replies and eyerolls carried a vindictive purpose.

Chan collapsed onto his bed the moment you left the room, feeling completely defeated. Now, it was just him and Soonyoung left to figure out what he should wear for Halloween, mere days away from now.

“Why is she always like that?” he muttered, focused on the wrong thing,

Soonyoung shrugged, scooting beside you with his legs crossed on the bed. “I’m sure she means well; she just has…her own way of showing it.”

Chan sat up, looking at him in disbelief. “She’s hated me since the moment we met at the New Year’s party, and I still don’t get why.”

“That’s not true.” Soonyoung reassured, gently patting his friend on the head. “Maybe your personalities just clash a bit. She gets along with everyone else in the building.”

“Yeah, but why?” Chan sighed. “What did I even do?”

Soonyoung gave him a reassuring pat. “Chan, it’s not your fault. I’m sure she’ll come around eventually.”

The more people like Soonyoung, or Seokmin, or Jeonghan reassured him that you’d come around, the less Chan believed it. It seemed like there would be nothing that could change your mind about him. Yet he couldn’t just accept that you disliked him for no reason. There had to be something behind the mean exterior, the jabs directed at either his character or even looks. Like he’s some kind of pushover. He would spend entire days wracking his brain, trying to understand why, and nothing would make sense.

What made it worse was how much it bothered him—maybe because you saw each other almost daily, living in the same neighborhood. You’d grown close to everyone else like you were a permanent fixture here, but when it came to him, it felt like you went out of your way to get under his skin. Your cold glances, your sharp remarks, all seemed to gnaw at him, twisting him up inside like a steel knife in an already gashing wound (okay, maybe he was being dramatic). He just couldn’t stand it.

If he could, he’d look right into your mind, figure out what you were thinking, make sense of your actions, and—just maybe—finally understand why you behave the way you do.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it; there was a Halloween party to plan. Every year, the local gaming café downstairs—where he’d ironically ended up working at—hosted a Halloween bash with exclusive promotions. And every year, it was followed by a more exclusive all-out rager at his apartment, which he shared with a bunch of his friends above the cafe. It was something nearly everyone on the block looked forward to each year, and this time, Chan was in charge of the activities. The activities coordinator, Seungcheol had proclaimed.

That’s why Chan has been asking for all kinds of opinions lately, even yours. Being the natural people-pleaser he is, he felt as if he’d been running around everywhere to get everyone’s stamp of approval. He would go up and down, left and right, and even hold surveys at the cash register for strangers' opinions. He had a habit of making things perfect, and he wasn’t going to let your cynicism ruin it for him.

“Come on, help me figure out what to wear, bro. My night depends on it.”

Soonyoung had been helpful—thank goodness for that—and now that was one less problem to worry about, Chan felt a bit of relief. If he could just get through his shift at the cafe without losing his mind and manage to sneak in some few minutes of party planning, he would have a good day.

“You figure out what costume makes you look less of a loser, yet? Trick question, it really doesn’t matter what you pick. You’ll still look like a loser.”

Chan tilted his head, unfazed by your rude comments as he poured his tenth cup of ramen for the night—three of them for the same customer. “Why do you care? Don’t you have some puppies to kick?”

Your smile remained unfaltering, conniving as ever. “I cleared my schedule to help Seokmin and Soonyoung rank up. Wonwoo is playing with them this round. Just here to grab some Kickstart.”

“Ah, so another puppy is safe for a day from the wicked Witch of the West. Congratulations on your fleeting moment of decency.” He turned, striding over to the customers waiting for their ramen, while you annoyingly trailed closely behind. You grabbed your favorite blackberry Kickstart from the fridge, the bright can a stark contrast to the dim lighting of the café, and tossed a couple of crumpled bills in the direction of the cash register as if you’d done it before.

“You’re helping plan the Halloween party, right? Seungcheol mentioned it when I asked what I should bring,” you said, your tone almost too casual, as if you were friends.

Chan scoffed, carefully setting the steaming bowls of ramen down in front of the waiting customers before heading back to his station. “You, being courteous? That’s new. What do you want?”

With a sly smile, you leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I just wanted to let you know that if you really want to make the party fun, you can ask me. My ideas will probably be better than whatever you come up with.” The confidence in your voice made it clear you expected him to take you seriously, but how could he when every little word you managed to muster was belittling?

Chan grit his teeth, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He unscrewed the cap of a water bottle from the fridge and downed it in one swift gulp, the cool liquid barely offering any relief from his irritation. As he crushed the empty bottle in his hands, he aimed for the trash can but missed, the bottle clattering to the floor with a dull thud. Sounding exasperated, he bent down to pick it up, tossing it into the can with a bit more force than necessary.

Straightening up, he shot you a sharp glare. “I can handle it myself, thanks,” he muttered, his voice tight with annoyance.

“Really? Because I’m offering my help here,” you replied, your tone dripping with an offensive amount of condescending sincerity. “I’m being generous with my time and giving you the chance to create something…well, palatable from this party.” You exaggeratedly pretended to choose your words carefully, a teasing smile playing on your lips, poking at his alleged incompetence.

“You want to help?” Chan challenged, his tone cutting. “How about just enjoying the party instead of making it all about yourself? Some of us actually have work to do.”

He fixed you with a glare that held the slightest hint of malice before finally turning away and returning to his tasks.

“Defensive much?” you shot back, a glimpse of interest on your face as you raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he replied, his voice firm. “Just self-respecting.”

“Fine,” you said, turning back to your friends as you walked away. “Just don’t come begging for my help when your party goes to shit.”

Chan found himself screaming into his pillows that night, the fabric muffling his frustrated cries as he banged his head against them in sheer exasperation.

“What the heck is her deal?” he murmured to himself, his voice muffled and thick with irritation. He buried his face deeper into the pillows, desperate to escape the relentless thoughts fogging in his mind. The familiar scent of cotton and fabric softener offered very little comfort as he replayed the interaction over and over, making him as puzzled as ever.

He hadn’t experienced bullying like this since high school, a time when everyone was preoccupied with either being popular or getting into the best colleges. He was neither; instead, he was a secret third option: just trying to survive.

“Always making fun of me. Always belittling me. Always making me feel like crap.” He pulled the covers over his eyes, seeking refuge from his loud thoughts. “Why can’t she just tell me what I did to make her hate me? I’m not a mind reader.”

Unable to sleep, Chan gazed up at the night sky through his bedroom window, seeing it enveloped in the vast pitch-blackness pressing down like a weight. He took a steadying breath, hoping to clear his mind. Not a single star graced him with its presence—only the lone moon, barely there but still noticeable—how relatable—hanging in the sky like a quiet witness to his restless thoughts.

“I’m going insane here, so if there’s a god out there, could he—or she—make my life easier for the next few days? Just a little?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for superpowers like telepathy or anything. Just…let me pull off a party that everyone actually enjoys. Even her. Maybe then she won’t be so…her all the time.”

It was wishful thinking, but worth a shot, and if Chan was known for anything, it was taking chances—no matter how slim the odds.

Chan was somehow able to sleep that night finally, hair straying all over his face, until he sat up at the realization of a lack of a blaring alarm, “Oh, shit.”

His phone battery had died, and his charger defective and rendered useless. He scrambled to Seungcheol’s room next door, avoiding the obstacles of his shirts strewn across the floor, and plugged the bead phone to his housemate’s charger, impatiently tapping until the phone lit up to greet him.

9:48. Just about 18 minutes before his morning shift starts and almost no time to get ready. “Shit, shit.”

‘What’s that noise?’

Chan glanced over at Seungcheol, who was sprawled out across his bed, a half-conscious casualty of the previous night’s escapades. It seemed he’d had company, judging by the tangled mess of clothes scattered on the floor, and apparently, they'd had more than just a “decent” time.

“Sorry, Cheol. Gotta borrow your charger. I’ll bring it back later.”

Seungcheol’s response was a muffled groan, his arm barely twitching in acknowledgment. Within the incoherent noise, Chan could just make out the unspoken message: ‘Just go away.’

“Got it, see you at work, buddy,” Chan muttered, plugging in his phone with a quick tap to check the time before heading for the door.

Another groan drifted from the bed, thick with irritation. ‘So loud.’

Chan got himself ready in a hurry, forgoing a shower and compensating with an extra-long brush of his teeth and a thick layer of deodorant. Fresh breath and a quick spritz of cologne would have to do for today. The cafe would be filled with people who wouldn’t care anyway.

He rushed downstairs to clock in, throwing on an apron over his lackluster clothes and prepping the makeshift kitchen in the back.

‘Ugh, my back is killing me.’

Chan turned at the faint sound of a familiar voice, spotting Minghao slouched in one of the worn chairs in the employees-only room, head leaned back, eyes half-closed in what looked like exhaustion.

“Hey, Hao. You okay?”

Minghao glanced up, his face breaking into a grin that seemed a bit forced, but reassuring nonetheless. “Morning, Chan. Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Just checking in—I thought I heard you say something about your back?”

Minghao’s grin faded into a puzzled expression, brow furrowing as if he were rewinding through his own memory. “Hmm? I didn’t say anything. But… Now that you mention it, my back has been sore lately. All the competitions piling up, you know? Guess martial arts are starting to weigh down on this old, elderly body of mine.” He chuckled at his own self-deprecating joke.

Chan gave a sympathetic nod. “Well, if you need a break, just take one, alright? I’m sure Seungcheol or Jeonghan wouldn’t mind.”

Minghao’s smile softened. “Thanks, little buddy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chan smiled back. “Anytime.”

As Chan turned to leave, he heard a voice, faint but unmistakable, despite the owner of the voice being in the same room: ‘Chan’s a good kid.’

He paused mid-step, his eyes widening as he processed the thought, lingering in the air like a distant echo. He looked back at Minghao, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Did…did you just say something?”

Minghao chuckled, giving him a casual wave as if everything were normal. “No? I’ll be out in a sec. How about you go warm up the coffee pot for me, hmm?”

“Got it…” Chan said, hesitating as he walked out, still glancing over his shoulder, his mind racing with questions. Had he really heard that voice? Or was exhaustion playing tricks on him?

He flipped the cash register on, the familiar hum filling the quiet of the early morning. Chan meticulously counted the bills, making sure he had the right amount of change and neatly stacked cash, each dollar lined up perfectly. Once satisfied, he moved to the glass door, flicking the open sign to life with a soft click. The neon light flickered, casting a bright and loud, welcoming invitation to anyone passing by. Chan took a deep breath, feeling the calm before the inevitable rush.

‘I hope they have the good ramen and not that crappy store brand shit. You can totally tell the difference.’

The voice drifted into Chan’s mind, oddly clear and distinct as if someone were speaking right beside him—except no one was there. The words had a casual, almost lazy tone, echoing in his head like the distant buzz of a radio left on in another room. His gaze darted around the empty shop, his pulse quickening as he scanned the quiet space, lit only by the harsh glow of the neon open sign.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss it, but the words still lingered, as if they were waiting for him to acknowledge them. This voice, like Minghao’s earlier, felt close yet completely detached, belonging to someone…elsewhere.

The chimes on the door jingled, pulling Chan from his thoughts as he glanced up to see a familiar figure. Finally, he could match the voice he’d been hearing to a face.

“Hey, Chan. The usual, please,” Beomgyu greeted, his tone dry, with the same dark circles under his eyes from late-night gaming marathons.

‘Is it me, or does he look shittier than usual?’ The words echoed in Chan’s mind, clear as if spoken aloud, though Beomgyu’s lips never moved. Chan froze, the unexpected comment hitting him square in the chest—both offending and unnerving him.

“Excuse me?” Chan retorted, defensively narrowing his eyes.

Beomgyu blinked, looking slightly taken aback. “Uh… the usual? Kimchi ramen with cheese and a Cherry slush?”

‘Man, hasn’t he worked here for, like, a year? Doesn’t he have this down by now?’

“What? Of course, I do!” Chan shot back, his voice sharp with irritation.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, now clearly baffled. “Dude, what are you talking about? Just give me my stuff.”

Chan swallowed, feeling a strange tension creeping over him. He forced himself to look down, suddenly unsure whether he was hearing Beomgyu–or actually going insane.

“Right. Sorry. It'll be out in a second,” Chan mumbled, suddenly sheepish as he accepted the cash, his usual confidence thrown off-kilter.

Beomgyu gave him a lingering, puzzled look before shrugging it off and drifting over to his usual seat in the corner. As he walked away, Chan felt an odd prickling sensation in the back of his mind—the familiar voice filtering through, more unsettling this time.

‘Has he gone psycho or something?’

Chan’s heart skipped, his eyes widening slightly as he processed the words that had somehow entered his mind, clear as day, despite Beomgyu’s silent, closed lips. His fingers clenched the counter as he steadied himself, wondering if he was finally cracking under the stress or if something far stranger was at play.

‘Another day, another W!’

Another voice then grew louder, closer, and was growing more anxious, sweat beading down his forehead out of bewilderment. What in the fuck was happening?

Seokmin emerged from the doors, seeing Chan with a bright smile as he leaned up against the counter. “Hi Chan, a couple of sprites and two orders of rose spicy rice cakes please.”

‘I’ma burn through iron into silver today. I just know it!’

Chan’s hands hovered over the register, a sense of déjà vu creeping over him as he felt the words echo in his mind. His fingers shook slightly as he pressed the buttons. “Y-you trying to rank up in Overwatch again today?” he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

Seokmin laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! Wonwoo and Jeonghan are coming by to play on their day off.”

‘Ooh, I should check if they have that series in stock again. I missed it last time.’

“What series were you looking for again?” Chan asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he glanced up from the register.

Seokmin blinked, a little startled, clearly wondering how Chan had guessed. “Oh yeah, I was gonna ask about it. What was it called again?” ‘Kindergarden wars–’

“Kindergarten Wars, right? The Kindergarten Cop of Manga? That one?” Chan asked, his voice coming out a bit too smooth for his own comfort.

Seokmin’s eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping him. “Whoa, I just barely remembered the title! You’re on a roll, buddy. But yeah, that’s the one! Do you have it in stock?”

“Yeah, we should have a few copies in. I’ll grab one for you when your order’s ready,” Chan replied, managing a grin, though stark comparison to the panic festering in his body.

"Aw, you’re the best, Chan. Thanks!” Seokmin flashed a wide grin as he swiped his card, practically bouncing toward his usual corner. He arranged a couple of chairs, setting up a cozy little space for his friends, buzzing around like a busy bee as he prepped the area, clearly itching to dive into his day.

Meanwhile, Chan’s nerves were going through it. He kept glancing at the entrance, anxiety creeping up his spine as he wondered if the next person through the door would, once again, broadcast their every thought straight into his head. Just thinking about it made him want to puke, the effects of the bizarre events not dissipating in the slightest.

The rest of Chan’s day became a relentless cascade of intrusive thoughts, each one amplifying the disquiet simmering inside him. Every new customer brought a fresh wave of private musings, some harmless, others startlingly personal, or worse yet, straight creepy. The sheer volume of it all began to blur together into an overwhelming hum.

‘Fuck not again.’

‘Hell yeah, a new skin!’

‘He’s so annoying I wish he would just die already.’

‘I swear, they said ‘one more game’ like an hour ago.’

‘They’re all trash. Worthless. I’m surrounded by idiots who can’t play for shit.’

‘They won’t last. She’ll cheat on him, or he’ll leave her. It’s inevitable.’

The familiar buzz of the cafe felt unusually oppressive, almost suffocating, as Chan struggled to tune out the voices around him. He found himself straining to differentiate between what was actually spoken and what slipped uninvited into his mind, the line between reality and thought as thin as it was maddening.

"Hey, Hao, I’m gonna take five."

Chan didn’t wait for a reply. He bolted out of the business and up the narrow staircase to his residence, his pulse hammering in his ears. The familiar murmur of echoing voices trailed him, each step feeling heavier than the last, the whispers chasing him even as he tried to leave them behind. It wasn't until he closed the door with a soft but resolute click that they faded, now hushed but still there. Haunting him.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the echo of voices still faintly buzzing in his mind. His hands tightened in his hair, fingers digging in as if grounding himself might silence the flood.

He shut his eyes, breathing in uneven breaths as he clamped his hands over his ears and somehow soothing the thoughts determined to run rampant. But every time he let his guard down, snippets of thought would slip through—fragmented phrases, stray judgments, random anxieties—taking up headspace like ghosts he couldn’t shake.

‘Why does he get everything? It should be me.’

‘The world would be better off without most of them, if not all.’

‘Where the hell is my ramen?’

‘I hope I didn’t get stood up. I sent her Uber money.’

Nothing about this made sense. It was impossible—just yesterday, his life had been normal, and now he was hearing voices that sounded exactly like his friends’ private thoughts, whether he wanted to or not. This wasn’t some supernatural CW drama, no Halloween special with a secret message all along for the protagonist. This was real life, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was somehow…reading minds.

The thought sparked a fresh jolt of panic, twisting his insides into knots. It was a fear he hadn’t known lurked within him, clawing its way to the surface and leaving his stomach churning. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to force it away, to dismiss it as some ridiculous, passing delusion. But the voices only grew louder, like an insistent, rising tide that wouldn’t let him brush this off as a mere joke or a temporary glitch in the simulation. No, they clung to him, refusing to fade—unyielding, pressing against his mind as if daring him to question his own sanity.

Then there was a knock. Soft at first, followed by the hesitant creak of the door easing open. Chan barely registered it, too consumed by the relentless flood of thoughts racing through his head, repeating to himself, “You’re not real, you’re not real…”

“Chan?”

His eyes flew open, finally taking in the figure silhouetted in the doorway—you. Your expression was a blend of concern and hesitation as you stepped cautiously into his room. A pang of surprise coursed through him, igniting a spark of defensiveness that flared to life within him, seeing you making the weight on his head worse. He forced himself to hold your gaze, feeling exposed under the weight of your possible scrutiny. “W-what do you want?” he stammered, the words escaping him in apprehension.

You raised an eyebrow, though your usual edge seemed softened. “Minghao asked me to come get you. He’s worried. Looks like he was right—finally lost your mind, or something?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he hissed, barely keeping his voice steady.

You raised an eyebrow. “Chan—”

“Save it.” He cut you off, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing as he took a half-step back, almost as if he expected you to throw something back his way. Just as you always have. “I’m not gonna take whatever crap you’re planning, so if that’s your game, just forget it.”

You blinked, caught off guard, a flash of irritation tightening your expression. “Wow,” you muttered, crossing your arms with a look that was half offense, half amusement. “Who the hell pissed in your cereal?”

“I’m not feeling well, alright? And you don’t make it any easier. If you think I’m going to keep letting you walk all over me, forget it. Go pick on someone else.”

“Wow, look at you finally picking up your backbone from the floor,” you taunted, slowly closing the distance between you. Your voice dripped with mockery as you studied him, taking in the tense lines of his posture and the way his jaw clenched in irritation. ��If this is about the party, the offer still stands. I know what I said, but—”

“But nothing. I didn’t need your help then, and I don’t need it now. Just piss off.” His voice cut through the air, sharp and defensive, as if he was trying to shield himself from your probing.

“Ooh, look at you using big words,” you snickered tilting your head as you leaned in slightly, your eyes narrowing in challenge. “Is all the stress of pleasing everyone finally catching up to you? Or are you just realizing you’re not capable of doing something that requires responsibility?”

Chan stepped closer, piercing through you with a sharp glare as your smile broadened, infused with a stubborn determination that only irritated him further. No matter what he said, you remained resolute, and he could sense his resolve beginning to crack under the weight of your taunts, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Or,” he began, feeling the voice in his head finally recede as a surge of courage washed over him. “I have so much of my own shit going on. Ever thought about that? Now, why don't you turn around and mind your goddamn business before I should teach you how to shut up while I’m at it.” The dominance in his tone surprised even him, and for the first time, he felt like he was finally in control of himself and his newfound ability.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes, the way it deepened the timbre of his voice, radiating uncontainable energy you’d never seen from Chan before. The confidence that once danced in your gaze faltered, giving way to a glint of surprise as you struggled to hold onto your composure. Your lips parted slightly, words caught in your throat as you processed his unexpected boldness—and the effect it was having on you.

‘Holy shit.’

Your voice echoed in his mind, sending a thrill through him as his lips stretched from ear to ear menacingly. Finally—finally—he was the one with the upper hand.

“What? Nothing to say now?” he challenged, relishing the moment.

‘Holy shit, he’s so hot when he’s mad.’

Confusion softened his features for a brief moment, and he couldn’t help but let out a, “What?”

“I…I didn’t say anything.”

‘Oh god, am I sweating? Can he smell me? Holy shit, he’s so close to me right now.’

Chan wasn’t sure what he was hearing right now. Especially whatever this was. His mind was already spinning from the obnoxiously loud and relentless voices echoing in his head from earlier—this was something else. The anxiety of your voice in his head, laced with something vulnerable he’s never seen in you before, threw him off-kilter. He felt heat creep into his cheeks as he processed the stray thoughts that weren’t his own, thoughts that broke through the background noise with an unexpected force.

He drew in a breath, barely steady, as he took in every flicker of your expression—the way your lips quivered as if on the edge of saying something, then closed again, and how your gaze dropped just briefly, as if to gather strength, before lifting to meet his, defiant but with a hint of uncertainty in your gaze. That simmering frustration from earlier dissolved, replaced by a charged curiosity that spread through him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, letting his words roll out slowly, teasingly, testing the waters of this sudden change in power.

You glanced up, eyes widening slightly as if caught off guard, your shoulders tensing as though bracing against an invisible force. He could practically feel the hurried, jumbled thoughts in your head racing, flickering across your face—hesitation, curiosity, that rare glint of resolve that never seemed to completely fade. It was almost…endearing.

The moment felt charged, like standing on the brink of something electrifying and forbidden. Chan found himself leaning into it, savoring the way his voice dropped, roughened, responding instinctively to this unguarded version of you.

“What?” he murmured, his smile laced with challenge. “Cat got your tongue?”

You drew in a slow breath, fingers clutching the doorframe behind you as if anchoring yourself, your gaze flickering from his face to his hands and then back again, as though the very air around you had thinned.

"Just…” Your voice faltered, lingering in the air, yet you held his gaze, a reluctant tension in your eyes, as if resisting an urge falling deep down a pit you’ve already managed to avoid for so long.

“Just what?” he pressed, amusement saturating his tone, relishing in your timid silence.

You hesitated, pressing your lips together before looking away. “Just… get back to work,” you muttered, fingers clenching the door frame for a moment before finally releasing it as you turned to go.

‘That…was crazy.’

Chan watched you leave, barely holding back a grin as a strange, exhilarating sense of control lingered. For the first time, he felt like he had turned the tables. This bizarre predicament suddenly had its perks.

As the thought settled, another realization dawned: maybe these powers—or whatever they were—could be harnessed. And you, of all people, might just be the key. Finally, it seemed you had some use after all.

The rest of the day passed with surprising ease, a sense of control settling over Chan as he slowly came to terms with this new ability. Whatever this was, if it meant you kept your distance and stayed in check, now it was about time you tasted a bit of your own medicine.

Meanwhile, you kept to the far side of the room, throwing him occasional glances that were equal parts wary and curious, as if still processing the shift that had unfolded between you. The quiet in your demeanor was foreign—almost like a subtle retreat—but Chan could still hear every single thought racing through your mind, echoing around him, feeding his ego.

‘Fuck, why is he looking at me like that?’

The echo of your uncertainties only made Chan’s grin widen. Each new thought layered itself over the rest, but somehow, yours always came through with striking clarity, as if your mind was the loudest voice in the room. He wasn’t sure if he was honing in on it by instinct or if his newfound ability had a mind of its own, drawn to you by sheer force of will—or intrigue.

‘It’s like he’s seeing right through me…oh my god, can you see my underwear or something? I’m gonna kill myself.’

You visibly clenched your thighs, turning away from Chan to avoid his gaze but he was the only thing on his mind. You couldn’t even enjoy the game you were playing anymore.

‘God, he looks really good…makes me wanna take him in the back and tie my hair up–shit, how long is gonna stare at me?’

As each thought drifted by, Chan skillfully sifted through the chaos, honing in on the captivating essence of your unguarded musings. A swell of pride blossomed within him as he recognized that this ability to read minds might not be a curse after all; it was a remarkable gift, one potent enough to give him control over someone as difficult as you

"Leaving so soon, dearest customer?” Chan drawled, leaning against the wall by the exit, his eyes tracking every movement as you gathered your things, your grip tightening around the strap of your backpack.

‘Was he…waiting for me?’

He scoffed, removing his name tag as he did at the end of every shift, a knowing glint in his eyes as he held your gaze, refusing to look away. “You just seem…distant. Thought I’d check in.”

‘He was thinking about me?’ The thought sparked something in you, and you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Maybe you should focus on yourself for once, and I don’t mean…” Your gaze flickered downward before snapping back up, warmth spreading up your neck.

‘Not that I’d be entirely against it,’ you thought with a quiet chuckle.

With a step forward, his confidence seemed to fill the space between you, his eyes sweeping over you with a boldness that made you catch your breath. He regarded you with a half-lidded gaze, as though he could see through you, a look that sent a prickle of goosebumps over your skin. “Only you would make my concern for you about my genitals,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “Think about them often, do you?”

You nearly stumbled, his words unraveling your composure as he turned your teasing back on you with a mastery that left you momentarily speechless. “You…”

“Was I on the money? It’s showing on your face.”

You shook your head lightly, brushing past him without a word, pretending the encounter hadn’t rattled you. But as you moved, he followed, a faint smirk lingering as he kept pace just behind you, relishing in the control he held. Chan tuned into the steady stream of thoughts he could almost feel buzzing around your mind—every second of fluster, every trace of hesitation.

With each step, he could sense your resolve slipping, see the barely concealed tension in your hurried stride as you exited the café, almost like you were running but with no clear destination in mind. And he kept watching, unhurried, savoring every moment as he let his presence linger just enough to keep himself quietly literally in the back of your mind, conflicted with the current predicament.

“Where are you going? You never did answer my question,” he called after you, his tone deceptively casual.

You scoffed, refusing to let your stride falter. “You’re being weird today.”

‘Need to stop myself from jumping him with the way he’s looking at me,’ your thoughts betrayed you, louder than you’d like.

He raised an eyebrow, matching your pace with ease. “Speak for yourself. It’s like you can’t help but avoid me. Almost like you’re hiding something.”

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you forced yourself to meet his eyes, though the effort was as shaky as it was bold. “Wow, nosy much? If I didn’t know better, Chan, I’d think you’re obsessed with me or something.” ‘If that’s the case, God smite me right now.’

“Sounds like you’re projecting.” Chan closed the gap between you, stepping so close only a half-arm’s length separated you. His eyes swept over you, catching the subtle quiver you tried to hide. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your obsession is the reason you can barely look me in the eyes right now. Or maybe you’re undressing me with them. Is that it?”

‘Please, for Christ’s sake, I am two seconds away from tearing the clothes off your back and making you shut up with my mouth,’ the thought flashed hot and unfiltered, betraying you in every glance.

Chan’s grin widened, reveling in the crackling tension radiating from you. "Careful with where your eyes are going," he murmured, voice low and teasing. “You don’t know what I might have to do about it if you don’t.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving you rooted in place, your final unguarded thoughts echoing in his head as he went back home.

‘Maybe that's all I want to do now.’

In the days leading up to Halloween, you’d been keeping your distance, and Chan’s telepathic abilities showed no signs of fading. Every day, you kept to the same routine—avoiding his gaze, interacting with your shared friends, and hiding those unspeakably dirty thoughts behind a prissy, composed facade. At first, Chan found it amusing, this secret insight into your mind, but as the days wore on, he became more curious, more intrigued. How much of what you showed the world actually aligned with those hidden, guilty desires?

His gaze drifted to the costume hanging in his closet like an eyesore—a dinosaur suit that, though comical, would probably have him sweating profusely all night. Then there was Soonyoung’s “thirst trap” suggestion, an outfit that showed way more skin, something Chan had immediately rejected and returned but still left in the back of his mind. However, an idea began to take shape, a clever compromise that might just keep your attention exactly where he wanted it. For experimental reasons, of course.

You didn’t come into work that day, likely dodging him on purpose, which only left Chan to navigate the usual mundane thoughts of the café’s patrons—mostly comments about costumes or Halloween plans. Without your thoughts slipping into his mind, the day seemed flat, dull even.

“Hey, Chan.” ‘Hello body-ody-ody.’

Chan caught Jeonghan’s stare as he stood there in a rabbit costume, the moment stretching out just a beat too long. Chan’s confidence wavered just a bit, a warm flush creeping up his neck as he glanced down, lightly fiddling with the arms of his dinosaur onesie, which were tied loosely around his waist. He was half-bare beneath the café lights, with only a simple chain dangling around his neck, and suddenly the whole look felt a little bolder than he’d intended.

He let out a nervous chuckle, his voice softening as he managed, “Uh…am I doing too much?” He could feel his cheeks warm as he looked up again, almost as if he expected Jeonghan to burst out laughing any second. But instead, Jeonghan’s expression softened, a crooked smile forming, clearly more amused than anything.

“...Huh? Oh, sorry, I was looking at your body.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed as he instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. “Bro,” he muttered, clearly flustered.

“Chan, you’re fine. It’s Halloween, dressing like a slut is normal in this time of year.” Jeonghan clapped him on the shoulder.

“Jeonghan…”Chan murmured, half-scolding but feeling even more self-conscious under Jeonghan’s praise.

“In fact, I’m happy you’re finally putting yourself out here. I would think the eye candy I hired would sell himself off a little more,” Jeonghan chuckled to himself, thinking, ‘And man, did I nail that hire.’

Chan blinked, stunned. “You’re joking.”

‘I’m not,’ Jeonghan thought proudly, then said aloud, “I’m not.” Jeonghan’s devilish smile widened as he subtly nodded toward the crowd filling the café. Among the usual patrons were a few fresh faces, particularly a growing group of college-aged girls who seemed unable to keep their eyes off Chan.

Chan’s thoughts drifted back to that morning. He’d been in the stockroom, reorganizing supplies while Minghao ran the front, completely unaware of the number of glances that had slipped through the cracked door, trailing over him as he worked. Now, seeing the lingering stares, he realized his costume had sparked more than just Halloween spirit—it had created quite a stir, evening out it’s usually male dominated atmosphere.

Now he was starting to wonder if he’d been filtering out the roaming thoughts a little too well, considering what he’d missed:

‘What is that costume even…? Actually, I don’t even care. He’s so yummy…’

‘I’m literally drooling. Oh my god, he just looked at me—I’m shaking.’

‘Did guys this hot always work here? Guess I’ll have to come by more often now.’

‘I kind of want to get his number…maybe then he’d let me ride his—’

Chan's eyes widened as the wave of unabashed admiration washed over him. He hadn’t expected this much attention, and a shy grin crept onto his face. “I-I get it now. Um… wow.”

He threw a timid glance toward their corner, and the response was immediate: the girls erupted in muffled squeals, giggling and whispering as if sharing secrets too wild to be spoken aloud. Their eyes gleamed with a mix of awe and infatuation, lingering on him even as they leaned into each other, cheeks flushed, exchanging looks that made Chan feel both flattered and exposed.

“See? You’re a staple here, and you’re doing great,” Jeonghan said with a grin. “Rack up those tips, and when you clock out, fill me in on any last-minute details about the party tonight. Just in case I missed anything.”

“Sure, Jeonghan.”

Now that Chan had come to terms with the fact that his costume was effective for a similar demographic, a swell of confidence bubbled within him that you would react the same. All he needed now was a chance to show it off to the right person. But as he glanced around the café, scanning for you amidst the crowd, a tinge of disappointment set in. Despite the lively atmosphere filled with laughter and chatter of the spooky festivities, you were nowhere to be found, and he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe he was the reason.

As the hour drew nearer, Chan felt a growing sense of frustration. Maybe he had been misreading your thoughts all along, or perhaps his powers were glitching today. The very idea of having such abilities was absurd, yet here he was, confused as to why he couldn’t detect your voice. He needed to make sense of it all. How could you swing from hating him one moment to lusting after him the next, only to ghost him entirely? Each possibility twisted in his mind, leaving him feeling more lost than ever. The anticipation that had once excited him now felt heavy with uncertainty, gnawing at his confidence just as he was getting used to it.

Seungcheol’s voice rang out with a mix of authority and enthusiasm, echoing through the bustling café. His energy was infectious, as he gestured animatedly, urging everyone to transition from the work grind to the festive spirit. With his usual flair, he rallied the team, his eyes sparkling with excitement for whatever chaos awaited them upstairs. The air buzzed with anticipation as he clapped his hands together, urging the staff to shake off the day’s fatigue and dive into the night’s festivities.

Meanwhile, Chan busied himself with the final preparations for the party, glancing at the door every few moments, hoping to see you walk through it finally. He didn’t have much of a plan but he had the spirit of one, bouncing off in the corners of his mind like the vibrant colors of the haunted jungle punch sloshing around in his red Solo cup. The punch was fruity and something strong, but it did little to calm his growing anticipation.

Despite the cheerful atmosphere around him, he fought to maintain a carefree demeanor, all while tuning out the cacophony of voices in his head. Racy thoughts and flirtations from other partygoers echoed through his mind, but none of it held the same thrill as the prospect of hearing your voice. Each thought was a distraction, a reminder of the palpable heat that he felt on his skin when he heard your thoughts for the first time and how it made his heart clench for a reason other than annoyance.

He could almost visualize the energy you brought with you, the way your laughter lit up the room, and how your teasing remarks made his pulse pick up pace. Chan found himself nursing the drink, hoping the sugar and alcohol would somehow bridge the gap between him and you not being here like he hoped you’d be. The raucous fun around him only intensified his longing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wouldn’t be complete without you by his side.

‘Oh, fuck.’

It hit him like the chime of a clock striking the hour, electrifying and undeniable. Your voice echoed in his mind, pulling his attention as if drawn by an invisible force. He turned to see you entering through the doors, your presence instantly commanding the room.

Your gaze locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. You were enveloped in a dress of the deepest black, hugging your form from chest to waist before flaring out dramatically and hitting just above your knees. Sheer green tights adorned your legs, glimmering under the soft lights, and a pointed hat crowned your head. You were a vision of the Wicked Witch of the West and Chan could see that never had he thought that vision could be so alluring.

In that moment, everything around him dissolved—the laughter, the music, the chatter of partygoers—as his entire focus narrowed in on you. You were breathtaking, igniting something primal within him that he thought he could shut off. But—

‘I could eat you up, Lee Chan.’

A smile tugged at his lips as he followed after you, sharing the same sentiment as your unspoken hunger. “Took you long enough.”

‘Mmh, so he was waiting for me. Again.’

“Didn’t realize you were waiting for me.” Your chuckle was laced with arrogance. ‘Where the hell is his shirt? And why couldn’t he have given me the pleasure of taking it off?’

“You’ve been avoiding me, which is unusual for you,” Chan remarked sarcastically, watching intently as you poured yourself a drink, bending his arm in a way that not-so-effortlessly flexed his upper arms. “And you didn’t come by the café at all today.” He leaned in slightly, narrowing his gaze. “I thought it might have something to do with me.”

“You?” Your incredulity echoed in your mind. ‘Lee Chan? You were worried about me?’

You stepped closer, invading his space with a confidence that sent a thrill through him. Your gaze traced a deliberate path from his eyes, down the strong line of his jaw, pausing to appreciate the way the light danced across his bare skin. It dipped lower, gliding over the defined contours of his chest, each muscle accentuated by the flickering glow of the party lights. You lingered at his waistband, taking in the way the fabric clung to him seductively.

As your eyes returned to his, there was a spark of mischief in them that didn’t need mind reading to understand, leaving the recipient breathless. The air between you seemed to thrum with unspoken words but clear dialogue, thick with a tension that wrapped around you both. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, drawing him closer to you. The world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in this charged moment, as if the very atmosphere crackled with anticipation.

“Yeah. Me.” Chan confirmed, his grin widening.

“Well, look who took the time to finally make it.” You both felt a weight on your shoulders as someone drove in between you both, becoming the deli meat in this strange sandwich.

Soonyoung hugged his cheeks between your faces and grinned, oblivious as always to his surroundings. “Hey, guys.”

‘Good, I stopped the fight before they decked it out in front of everyone.’

“Hey, Soonyoung,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist and forcing a smile. “I see you’re recycling your costume from last year.”

“Uh, it’s not a reuse! This is clearly a brand-new bodysuit, complete with paws!” He lifted his tiger mitts dramatically, waving them in front of your face as if trying to convince you of their novelty. “Very new and totally fierce!”

“Oh, of course, you look good.” You chuckled, genuinely appreciating his energy.

Soonyoung then turned his attention to Chan, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa, Chan! Look at you, buddy! I told you showing off a little skin would do you good, and wow, look at all this!”

He let out an exaggerated whistle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Our sexy little dinosaur! You’re making all the other costumes look bad!”

“Okay, okay, thanks, Soon.” Chan let out a hearty laugh, a flush of embarrassment creeping across his cheeks as he playfully patted his friend’s shoulder. He quickly shrugged him off, attempting to create a buffer to ward off Soonyoung’s inevitable groping.

“Oh, so that’s what you’re supposed to be,” You teased, “Couldn’t tell from the lack of clothes.”

Chan snorted, his amusement bubbling to the surface. “I’m clearly showcasing my costume from the waist down—tail included,” he said, gesturing dramatically. “But just remember, even if my costume is down there…” He raised his fingers and motioned to his eyes, an impish glint in his gaze “…my eyes are definitely up here.”

‘What if I want to look at what’s underneath the costume?’

‘What’s going on here...?”

Chan can’t help but grin at the challenge in your eyes while blatantly ignoring the confusion in Soonyoung’s.

“Showing off the merchandise but not letting people browse? You’re not exactly running a lucrative business here, Lee Chan.”

“Who says I’m running a business?” Chan shot back with a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “I’m simply looking for..exclusive clientele.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, an invitation wrapped in flirtation.

‘I might have to sample a bit of that to see if it’s to my taste, which I’m sure it will be,’ you thought, wishing you could say it out loud. Instead, a soft giggle escaped your lips, though Chan caught the thought loud and clear. A playful grin spread across his face, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he leaned in just a little closer, seeing the playfulness dance in your eyes.

“You guys are speaking weird,” Soonyoung chimed in, his words slightly slurred as the effects of the alcohol began to show. He swayed a little, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

Chan patted his striped friend on the back with a friendly nudge. “Why don’t you check if Jihoon needs help with the music, buddy? You’d be a real asset.”

“Oh, I would be so good at that!” Soonyoung declared, practically bouncing on his heels before darting off with uncontainable enthusiasm.

Chan turned back to you, arching an eyebrow with a playful glint in his eye, eager to stretch out the moment. “So, did you bring anything special to offer?”

“Just some wine that Minghao practically wrestled away from me when I walked through the front door,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a feigned exasperation. “Have you sorted out those party games you were so excited about?”

“Should be starting in a couple of minutes,” he assured, his gaze flicking around the party setup, but the warmth of his attention remained fixed on you. “In the meantime, feel free to indulge in the snacks or candy. They’re just as sweet as you.”

‘Oh?’

“How thoughtful of you,” you compliment, pleasantly surprised.

“Forgot to mention the warheads, but still considerably sweet.”

The night unfolded like a game of push and pull, with Chan pulling you in more than he ever had before. The playful tension crackled between you, and he could tell that the idea of playing hard to get was on your mind tonight. Even with all the distractions around you, your thoughts were surprisingly coherent—you wanted Chan, and he knew it. Yet you refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. That was when he realized that the party games he had planned would serve as the perfect tool to tilt the odds in his favor.

“Alright, everyone, gather around! On behalf of our activities coordinator, Chan, I’ll be hosting the game he selected for us tonight. Why don’t you tell us what it is, Chan?” Seungcheol announced, his tone playful as he gestured for Chan to take the spotlight.

Chan stepped forward, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Tonight, we’ll be playing manhunt—a twist on hide and seek with major stakes. The last person standing will win a grand prize, and the seeker who finds the most players will earn a reward just as significant. There will be three seekers.” He paused for effect, relishing the eager anticipation in the room. “The rules are simple: (1) no running, (2) you must reveal yourself once your name is called, and (3) most importantly, have fun. The prizes will be unveiled after the game ends.”

Vernon raised his hand eagerly. “Is the prize money?”

“Vernon, what did I just say?” Chan replied, suppressing a grin as he earned a solemn nod in response.

“Is there a time limit?” Mingyu chimed in, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“Forty minutes.”

Wonwoo started to raise his hand. “What about—”

“Enough questions!” Seungcheol interrupted, chuckling as he saw the anticipation on everyone’s faces. “Chan, pick your seekers.”

Chan rubbed his hands together, a cocky smile spreading across his face as he surveyed the crowd, already knowing who he wanted. “I choose Joshua, Seokmin, and myself. While Seungcheol counts to twenty, the rest of you will scatter and hide.” His grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. “And remember, don’t get caught. Losers will face punishment, too,” he added, eliciting a collective groan from the group.

Seungcheol stood in the middle of the room, gesturing for the helpers to shut off all the lights, leaving the entire floor of the building pitch black and ready for the taking. “Starting now. Twenty… nineteen… eighteen…”

The harmonious sound of footsteps retreated from the room, the darkness perfectly concealing any shadows that might betray anyone’s position. Chan needed no light to do what he had to do but turned on his phone camera the moment the counting ended. He met the eyes of his fellow seekers, barely visible in the glow of their phone lights, anticipation clear on their faces. “We’ll cover our own ground until we run out of places to search, then it’s a free-for-all,” Joshua suggested.

“Got it. I’ll head out first,” Chan insisted, earning a collective nod and finding his own path.

He navigated through the stream of thoughts, weaving between them like a radio dial tuning into a specific frequency, determined to hone a singular voice.

‘Ugh, why did I have to choose this one to hide in? This is such a bad idea.’

Chan smiled recognizing the familiar pitch, beelining straight for the sound, passing the other voices that may interrupt his route.

In a singular room, his in particular, you were the only one loud enough to break through.

‘Oh, shit, someone’s here. Please go away, please go away.’

No matter how carefully you tried to muffle your presence, it radiated from the closet, an open invitation to Chan’s mind-reading senses. He crept closer, footsteps soft as whispers, his hand hovering over the knob. With a slow, deliberate movement, he eased it open, revealing your figure barely concealed behind the racks of his half-filled closet. Your eyes darted to his, and a quiet “Fuck…” slipped out as he stepped inside, claiming the cramped space beside you.

The closet was shadowed in near-darkness, the room's lights off, but a sliver of moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating through the slits of the closet in faint, wispy beams. As your eyes adjusted, you could just make out the silhouette of Chan, his figure close, a playfully smug smile catching the dim light as he settled in front of you.

‘What is he–’

Chan lifted a finger to his lips, signaling for silence before you could utter a protest. His eyes held yours with an intensity that had your pulse racing, each beat a rapid tattoo under the thin skin of your neck. Footsteps echoed faintly from the hallway outside, the other seekers passing by Chan’s room without a second thought, oblivious to the two of you hidden mere inches apart.

‘He’s so close. He smells so good,’ you thought, the hint of his cologne making your breath hitch. Chan couldn’t help the tiny grin tugging at his lips—props to him for choosing the good cologne today.

‘He’s practically pressed against me. Is this what dying and going to heaven feels like?’

Chan stifled a laugh, stepping even closer, until the heat radiating from his skin was undeniable. In a whisper, he teased, “Try not to get caught.”

“But you—” you started, barely finding your voice to remind him that he was in fact one of the people you’re not supposed to get caught from, only to have it die on your lips as his hand pressed lightly on the wall beside you, leaving little room to breathe, let alone escape.

“Shh,” he murmured, eyes glinting as he held you captive against the panel, a hair’s breadth away.

“Chan…” you murmured, half-breathless, gazing up at him with a mixture of confusion and exhilaration as the closeness left you dizzy, the space between you charged and impossibly small.

His eyes drifted down, seeing your lips pursed slightly in direction, calling to his attention, begging to be claimed.

‘He’s staring again.’ your thighs clenched against each other, hiding the pool of your heat as you could feel it seep through your panties. ‘He looks at me like this any longer I might just fuck him right here.’

Chan shifted closer, his nose grazing yours, so close he could catch the faint sweetness lingering on your breath. "You have to be quiet…real quiet," he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur.

“W-why?” you stammered, the question coming out in a whisper as his hands found your hips, drawing you against him with a gentle but possessive pull.

He paused, his eyes flicking between yours, a soft smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “Because,” he breathed, his voice sending a delicious warmth down your spine, before he leaned in, closing the miniscule gap and bridging you together in the sweetest of symphonies.

‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god–’

His hand clasped against your cheek, hips digging against yours and pinning you to the wall as his tongue traced in the inside of your mouth, exploring you until he could familiarize himself. He felt bound to you, having taste what’s been distant thought now a full blown movie, a movie that he'd rewatch until the day he dies.

Your hand caressed the back of his neck, tenderly kneading his skin and pushing yourself closer to his body. The hands that ached to touch him found their peace, gliding on his skin and feeling the outline of his body, through every contour and crevice, so hot it’s sweltering, simply melting underneath him.

‘This is so awesome…don’t ever make this stop…’

He held you by your thigh, brought it to his exposed side, and lifted you from the ground, crushing his weight against you to keep you in place. His eagerness poked against your stomach, taunting you with its size, and parting your mind for thoughts of its sensation plunging inside you, wrecking havoc.

‘Oh god, I’m gonna cum thinking about want I’d do when I fuck him.’

Chan softly chuckled, pulling away and looking at the glisten in your eyes, feeling your skin flushed against him, hearing how your mind screamed for him in ache. “Are you—“

“Yes,” you gingerly nodded, not giving him a second to finish his sentence, “Whatever it is. Yes. Or no. Or whatever.”

‘Good god, get a grip. Desperate much?’

Chan’s hand crept under the fabric of your skirt, sliding down beneath the layer of green pantyhose and underwear, your vicious slickness immediately coating his fingers. “I like you a little desperate,” he confessed in staggered whispers before slotting his lips between yours again.

Your throbbing cunt thrummed beneath his digits, pulsing around him as he pushed on inside, already coating his knuckles. You seized around him, clenching your stomach, as a clear moan escaped you.

‘What was that?’ Chan sensed Seokmin’s thoughts a mere meters away, franticness in his eyes and the voice of his fellow seeker followed after. “Hello?”

“Hey Seok, Just me!” Chan covered for you, fingers thrusting as they curled up inside you. “I hit my foot on something, so I’m taking a minute breather in my room. No one's here!”

“Mmh, okay, Buddy. Be more careful!”

As soon as the coast was clear, his attention averted back to you. “I said be quiet, didn’t I?”

His hand clamped over your mouth and blocking sounds from leaving as he entered another finger, feeling your muffles hummed satisfyingly against his palm. His smile stretched to the corner of his face. “I told you I’d make you shut up wouldn’t I?”

You rocked into the merciless paces of Chan’s fingers, feeling them massage you in and out, as his palm ground itself against your clit. You head knocked back against the wall behind you, joined by Chan at your hip, letting his fingerss fuck you the way you wish his cock finally would. ‘Oh Lee Chan, Lee Chan, Lee Chan…’

You steadied your arms around his shoulders, eyes fluttering in and out of focus, while your hips snapped back him. It was second nature at this point, responding to him with nothing but open arms.

‘His fingers…my god, his fucking fingers…’

“Faster? Deeper?” Chan offered, sweat dampening tendrils hitting at his eyes.

You nodded, giving no coherent answer as he took away your ability to breathe. ‘Yes, both, please.’

He’d give it to you, watching as tears swelled up in eyes from ecstasy, ramming his digits until he didn’t care who could hear the delicious squelching, the manhunt game so far back in subconscious, it was practically nonexistent.

‘Needed him so bad, need him to fuck me so stupid I could feel him in my throat…Lee Chan…’

Even without mind reading, the look in your eyes told him everything. Your gaze was intense, charged with an incredible sense of longing, as if it held secrets that could start wars or shatter worlds. There was something almost dangerous in it, introducing him to a hunger he couldn’t ignore. How had he never noticed this before? It practically screamed at him to cross these invisible lines. And for a heartbeat, the world felt as if it teetered on the edge, making him realize his touch unleashed something neither of you could hold back from.

When you contracted around his fingers, there was no better word than heaven, the thick release in his enveloping grasp, collecting at the cup of his hands.

Chan showed a hint of mercy, letting your feet settle back on the ground. You pried your tired eyes open, letting the faint moonlight help you take in the dreamy sight before you as you slowly recovered from the waves of your climax. Chan, clearly intrigued by the quiet of your mind, ran his tongue along the underside of his palm, jolting you back to life as you watched, breath hitching at the sight.

‘Oh my…’

Chan grinned, his tongue dragging against every curve, every wrinkle, following even the drip running down his forearm, his eyes not breaking a beat from you as he ate your cum off his fingers. He pressed against you, sweaty and flushed, ensuring every bit of you laid flat on his tongue, swallowing every sweet drop of that golden nectar, softly moaning about its flavor. “Better than my favorite candy.”

‘Oh, this man needs to get me pregnant.’

“A couple more to go! Watch out!” Joshua shouted from down the hall.

There was a brief moment of trepidation Chan felt, cursing his friend mentally for getting their tasks done so quickly, stunned that you and him were able to keep hidden for so long. Chan knew he had to make a move, and quickly.

Shoving up the skirt of your dress, he tore the delicate seams of your green stockings, and a gasp escaped your lips before you had the chance to hush yourself. As soon as you were exposed, Chan sank to his knees, wasting no time. He gripped the ruched hem of your dress, gathering the fabric in his hands in rushed anticipation, pushing aside your panties with his teeth and burying his face inside your warm pussy.

‘This little whore, oh my..’

His tongue pushed flat against you, taking you in at long stripes as his eyes bordered on impatience and deliberate, savoring at how you squirmed against him when his pink muscle curled and licked circles at your entrance. You pushed your weight on him, cried at the thought of him eating you alive when any moment you could get caught.

‘He’s going to kill me, he’s going to kill me. Fuck, those pretty eyes looking back at me. He looks so good eating me out. God, fuck.’

He took your free hand, guiding it to the back of his head, gesturing you to hold on, and like magic, the lower half of his face vanished between your wet folds.

“Oh gah–” You’re the one to shut yourself off this time with the sharp bite of your lip, focused on the passionate exploration of Chan’s tongue–fucking you with intent, and you fought off the urge to scream. He held you up by your thighs, the darkness in his eyes zoning in on you, drunk in thought of witnessing another orgasm, and amplified your senses with the presence of his fingers. You gripped his hair for dear life–further encouraging him to go deeper–worshiping how the soft strands felt against the pads of your fingers as Chan worshipped every inch inside of you.

“Don’t stop,” you managed to whisper, combing through his hair. “Hmm, that’s so nice…god, you’re so hot eating me out like that…”

Chan was starting to confuse your words for thoughts, or maybe was it your thought for words, whatever it was, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hear them, your delightful praises directed towards him, or see that beautiful face contort with pleasure.

Your hips began to do that familiar jerk, your pelvis hitting his nose as you sensed something explosive near. Your sounds of ache muffled under your hands, and you twisted your hips, gasp breaking out of you helplessly, and Chan got that familiar fresh flavor of you on his tongue as it dripped out of you.

He helped himself up to pin you back on the wall, the taste of yourself in his mouth, startling addictive, and you reciprocated, getting everything that he’s worked for.

As he pulled away, staring back at you with an unspoken intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you going.”

Chan led you out of the closet, cum still dripping down your legs, joining the rest of the group to announce your victory: a month-long coupon for free snacks at the gaming café. The triumphant smile on your face as you timidly crossed your legs, only hinting at the far more thrilling victory you’d just shared in Chan’s closet.

The other seekers playfully elbowed him, teasing him for being a terrible seeker. "I’m shocked you found anyone with how long you took!" they laughed. But the mischievous glint in his eyes was hidden under a veil of innocuous feigned confusion. “Guess, I really suck at this,” he shrugged, “Glad you guys had fun.”

And everyone did have fun—so much so that nearly the whole crowd insisted on another round. A round that you and Chan would find just as—if not even more—entertaining than the first.

As soon as Chan locked the door for the PC Cafe, he reclaimed your lips, feeling for your heat underneath your dress and its familiar throb. “Finally, some privacy.”

As fellow hiders this round, you slipped away to a more secluded spot, somewhere private enough to pick up right where you’d left off. Here, with no one else to interrupt, the two of you could finally delve into that spark that you both have only begun starting to understand, the excitement between you simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be explored in the quiet privacy you’d carved out.

‘Lee Chan, the man you are.’

He slipped you out of your dress and let it hit the ground, leading you to behind the counter and pressing you against it. You looped your arms around him, tugging his dinosaur onesie off with your foot and kicking it to the ground along with your dress, caressing his cock protected under a layer of his briefs. “Chan, please I want you.”

‘More than you’d ever know.’

“I know,” He chuckled, tearing off the final obstacle of your underwear. And stuffing it in the abandoned skin of his Halloween costume. “And I’ll show just the kind of treatment you get when you ask nicely.”

He flipped you around, tearing your pantyhose higher on your ass, and bent you over in front of him. He slowly, and deliberately, fished out his cock, letting it slap against the curve of your ass, hearing the pleads inside your head.

‘God, he so knows what he’s doing. What a tease.’

His lips connected to the back of your neck, with a free hand squeezed around the flesh of your breast. “Say it.”

“Chan…” you whined. ‘Don’t make me beg.’

“I want to hear how much you want me inside of you. I need some transparency from you.”

“Of course, I want it, Chan.” You back yourself against him, leading the head of his cock towards your puffy slit. “Please.”

“Use your words, dirty girl,” He harshly whispered, invoking a feeling not only rare but foreign inside of you as you clenched around nothing.

“I-I want you inside me, Chan.”

“Doing what?”

You whined, “Fucking me.” ‘Using me.’

He scoffed, brimming with pride, readjusting your position as he saw fit, and slowly pushed himself inside you. When you adjust to his size, you had only begun to realize the impact it’s have on you, how it’s be hard to forget such a sensation, until he’s dragging his cock in and out of you. You clawed on wooden counter, bracing yourself, and echoing a low, long groan as he covered every inch of him in your slick walls.

The first thrust was methodical, calculated, determined to show you the whole range of what he’d give you and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated, but as he found his pace, you began to find your balance. “Oh, fuck…”

You were glued to him, his hips pounding himself against you as his hands collected your breasts in his hands, lips kissing up your neck and behind your ear. “Gonna make you fucking wish your only regret was not fucking me sooner.”

How he easily found your spot was mystery – one that you didn’t think too long and hard on – until he just kept doing it, pulling you back against him as he released his inhibitions. Your sweat pilled against each other, unsure where yours started and where his ends, your bodies intertwined into one sickening display of what almost a year of unspoken lust looked like.

‘Oh, I could get used to this. If he fucked me like this everyday, I wouldn’t complain for a single second.’

And Chan was almost counting on that.

He turned you around again, missing your face and admiring how your disheveled hair only framed its intoxicating aura as he lifted you against the counter and pushed his cock inside you as he towered over you.

The single chain around his neck brushed against your face repeatedly, and calling to your attention loud enough for only Chan to hear.

‘Omg his chain…this is like one of those Twitter memes where fanatics dream of their faves’ chain hanging above their face during sex…and it’s actually happening to me with Chan.’

Suddenly, he had an idea. “Bite on it.”

You blinked at him, registering his words as he suddenly stopped his thrusts. “…What?”

“Bite on my chain while I fuck the living shit out of you.”

You took your time processing the thought, before slowly leaning in, the chain barely meeting your lips before you took it between your teeth and pulled him down with you.

Chan’s once kind smile warped into something more sinister, more primal, and he granted you what he had promised.

His cock slammed against you, reverberating your walls, and you clung on the counter under you, while your vision flickered to the back of your skull. Gritting against the chain on your enamel, your head could not form words clear in any sense, just the echo of yours skin clashing and Chan reveled in that. “Good fucking girl.”

He hand struck your side, squishing you against the counter, feeding you his raw power course through you until he’s fill you up, over and over again. You feed his ego in a way he never expected from someone and wasn’t sure he’d be willing to let it go with whatever happened next, so he was gonna savor the moment he had.

As his arousal coursed through him, squeezed every ounce of energy out of you, ensuring he’d hear his name on your brain and out your lips. He held your tired body, stroking your sides, panting against your skin, and felt the final release ebb out of him like a stream, coating you in perfect white before settling down a stool nearby, sitting you on his lap as you rested against the security of his strong, broad frame.

Wherever this left the two of you, Chan just knew he needed to have you. And considering the emptiness in his head, he needed you for more than he realized.

#thediamondlifenetwork #svthub #dino smut #seventeen smut #dino #lee Chan #seventeen #lee chan smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #dino x reader #dino x you #dino x y/n #seventeen fanfic #seventeen dino #svt x reader #svt x you #svt x y/n

692 notes · View notes

my-debauchery · 15 days ago

Text

Stop.

idol!jisung × afab!reader

g`smut

cw`explicit content, kissing(cheek), cockwarming, begging, edging?, mention of tears, teasing

A/N: not really sure about this, but i hope you like it. as always, constructive criticism is more than welcome. if you see mistakes in cw tagging, please, let me know.

all you can hear is humming of a humidifier, movie playing and jisung's breathing. both of you are naked, half laying against the headboard. you are on top of him. your back against his front. you can feel his rapid heartbeat both on your back and from his cock inside you.

it all started because you decide it'll be fun to tease jisung during dinner. saying he wouldn't be able to resist you and sit through the movie, while you cockwarm him. how wrong you were.

it's you who cannot sit still. you've been fidgeting and squirming around for an hour and there is still 45 minutes left.

you tried to bring jisung's hands forward to your breast's, but he just asked you to not distract him and huged you around the stomach.

you tried to subtly move up and down, pretending to get comfortable. but jisung just tightened his grip on you 'stop moving around, you are distracting me'

you tried to tighten your pussy, hoping he will finally fold. but it just made you acutely aware of how hard his cock become and how dip he's in now. pressing deliciously in all the right places.

'you seem to be quiet hard, do you want me to do something about it?' you say, as you turn your head to the side, trying to look at him 'no. but, please, stop moving around. i'm trying to watch the movie' he smiles and kisses your temple.

you are on edge. it seems you've never been this horny. you want to jump his bones now. you don't care who wins.

you decide to beg and whine for him, knowing it always gets to him 'jisuuuung, please. you win, okay? i am insane for you. can you finally fuck me? pleeease' you are scratching on hiss hands, like a cat in heat.

he chuckles and catches your hands in his grip 'really? are you that desperate? can't wait for 30 more minutes? but, baby, you were so confident, am i that irresistible? weren't you supposed to be the one in control of their desire?'

you flush and try to look away. seeing and hearing jisung be this cocky and slightly condescending to you, made you feel even more hot and wet when you were already 'please, stop teasing. you know i want you an unnormal amount. i was just joking before'

'were you? aren't i still young and quick to cum?' you whine like a kicked puppy 'please, i'm sorry'

jisung humms and traps your arms in a even tighter hug 'i don't know, love. i'm tired after practice and have an earlier call tomorrow for the comeback shoot. let's go to sleep' he says nonchalantly and makes a move to pull out.

'no! stop!' you try to move down, but his hold is to strong.

suddenly jisung pushes your legs over his to the sides, bends his legs and plants his feet firmly on the bed. jisung's action make his cock slip in deeper, making it kiss your cervix.

'oh, i'll stop. we wouldn't want to see you cry, right?' he kisses you cheek and starts slumming his hips upwards.

in the morning, during the shoot, mark asks him 'jisung-a, did you play games all night again? did you sleep at all? why were you late?' haechan sits down next to him 'you should pay attention to your girlfriend instead. she might not like to date a man-child'

he just shrugs 'we were watching movies, so i overslept. sorry for being late' jaemin ruffles his hair on the way out 'it's okay, kid. try not to be late next time, okay?' jisung nods and puts on his beanie. they all shuffle out to the set and jisung smiles to himself, remembering your pretty tears.

he guesses there is no need for others to know, just how hard it is for him to stop playing with you.

#nct #nct dream #park jisung #nct jisung #nct dream jisung #jisung #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct fanfic #nct imagines #park jisung smut #jisung smut #park jisung x reader #park jisung x you #park jisung x y/n #jisung x reader #jisung x you #jisung x y/n #park jisung X afab reader

233 notes · View notes

barcaatthemoon · 8 months ago

Text

tiny prancer || alanna kennedy x reader ||

you talk to alanna about your feelings after watching her play with harper.

"higher! higher!" your eyes drifted away from the interviewer once again as you heard harper's shrill shrieks of delight. she had been devastated whenever she saw you on the pitch, but had been immediately told that you were busy by gorry. luckily, alanna had swooped right in and picked the girl up before her pout could dissolve into a fit of tears. and now, you were swooning while trying to complete your media stuff for the day.

"sorry, sorry. this has been a hard comeback, but i'm grateful for my manchester family. i'd hate to give united their props, but those girls have also been so supportive. for our rivalry to be put aside, it means a lot. i'm very thankful for so many of my fellow players in the league from teams all over the country," you said. it was a good answer, one that people could tell came from the heart.

you had been away for nearly a year after a huge injury and bigger setback. it had truly been a freak accident, your knee giving out on you and the subsequent fall breaking your leg as you fell. there hadn't been any dirty tackles, and aside from alanna, the first person who had been at your side had been a manchester united player. some of those girls had really become some of your best friends when you needed a break from your teammates.

"well, everybody is excited to see you come back on the pitch this weekend. it has been overdue, and if the practice footage from this week is anything to go by, you're definitely in top form." you thanked the interviewer for their kind words before both of you were dismissed. almost immediately, you turned and jogged over to where alanna and harper were playing.

"do you have room for one more?" you asked. as into playing with alanna harper had been, she was quick to go to you. it had been hard for you not being able to play, but still going to practices over the course of the year, and harper was a big part of that. gorry had joked that you and alanna were like her other mothers, something that had always caused alanna to tense up a bit. although, you had noticed that she had seemed more okay with the joke, occasionally having a longing look on her face for the next week or so.

"of course we do, don't we harper? we always have room for prancer, don't we?" you rolled your eyes at the nickname alanna had not-so lovingly given you back at youth camp in australia. truthfully, the two of you had legitimately hated each other a little bit back then, but both of you had done a lot of growing up since then.

"we love prancer," harper said. you knew that she had probably been working on that for a while. harper had never called you that without alanna being directly beside her. alanna nudged her side, and harper stood up to give you a hug. "do you get to play at the game?"

"i do for a little bit, so i can't sit with you on the bench at first, but they don't want to hurt me again, so i'll probably be there for the second half," you told her. harper pouted a little, but she understood. there had been several long talks about you going back on the pitch where you belonged.

harper wordlessly handed you a doll to play with, explaining much better than alanna tried to what was happening. that game didn't last very long due to alanna's antsiness. the three of you played a game of tag, which ended with alanna and harper ganging up on you. alanna picked you up in her arms, gently placing you on the ground where she peppered your face and neck in kisses while harper tickled at your sides until gorry came to get her.

"i was nervous when we got here," you admitted. alanna knew it already, but you had been stubborn in insisting that you were fine. "everybody always says they can't wait for someone else to make their return, but i know what they weren't saying."

"don't think about it like that, okay? think about other things like how harper and i kicked your ass at tag," alanna joked. you punched her in the shoulder, earning you a bite to the thigh. "be nice. if harper sees you being mean to me, she'll think it's okay. i swear that kid loves you more than anybody else sometimes."

"we've become bench buddies, that's all. i bet when we have a kid, they'll love you the most. you'll get to be the fun parents, and i'll have to be strict," you sighed. alanna shot up and stared down at you, a confused, yet hopeful look on her face. "what?"

"what did you say?" alanna asked. you shrugged as you moved up onto your elbows. "you said 'when' not 'if' we have a kid. d-do you want to have kids with me?"

"kids? someone is getting ahead of themselves, but yeah, of course i do. i've been thinking about it, and seeing you with harper confirms it. before you came along and fucked everything up for my little 14 year old self, i was going to accept a promise ring from a boy. who knows how many kids i'd have now?" you said.

"i like the idea of a bunch of little prancers running around, but only if they've got the last name kennedy," alanna said. she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. you kissed her back, smiling into it a little. "how long have you wanted little kennedy babies?"

"alanna, don't," you tried, but it was too late. she was on something trying to get this out of you. truthfully, it had been before you were even injured, but you knew that you had been lucky then if alanna wanted to admit you were exclusively together at that point. she had fancied herself a player, something that only got worse whenever leila arrived at the club and they became friens.

"come on, i deserve to know. maybe if i've kept you waiting, i'll be sweet," alanna offered. you knew that she would be extremely sweet, but you'd have to get through the annoying phase first.

"fine, the first camp that i said we were together and harper was there. all the girls kept making fun of me because trying to tie you down was still a 'lost cause' or something," you said. alanna did the math in her head. you could tell whenever she had gotten there because a smile broke out on her face. "please don't be an ass about this, okay?"

"you thought i'd be a good parent back then?" alanna asked. you shrugged, unsure of what you had really thought. you just knew that you trusted alanna and wanted to do something special with her. "wow, maybe you really did love me back then too."

"of course i did. alanna, i've never been someone who could sleep with anybody i didn't love." you looked away from her, slightly ashamed of yourself. the girls had teased you a lot about your body count, which was the girl you made yourself fall for to forget about alanna hating you, and alanna herself. they had sort of thought you were joking, especially alanna, until you blew up at them for making fun of you.

"well then, i feel honored to be your person. and as much as i'd love to go to the doctor now and try to get you pregnant, your parents, gorry, and macca would kill me if i did," alanna pointed out. "so, what do we do?"

"let me play this season, and if things don't physically feel right in that way, we can look to starting a family sooner. we don't have to do this any other way than the one we want, remember that." you cradled alanna's face and pressed a kiss to her nose. despite the fact that you wanted a baby then and there, you were fine with waiting until alanna felt more comfortable.

#alanna kennedy x reader #alanna kennedy imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics

393 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 20 days ago

Text

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.3k

Summary: A camping trip with your so-called friends takes a turn from harmless taunting to gore filled stabbing.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), slasher AU, Horror elements, CW bullying, CW food mentions, TW death, TW blood and gore, CW violence. Set in the 80s, CW animal death, drug mention.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

Music blares in your ears through your headphones as the car passes by numerous pine trees along the road. You flick your eyes over to the rearview mirror when you felt eyes on your face. Sure enough, Flash's smiling eyes stare at you through the mirror. And when you hear muffled giggling, you already know where the delighted laughter is coming from.

As you glance at the passenger seat, Miranda's amused grin greets you. Her blond hair bounces as she tries to play innocent. Even with your music murmuring their words, you know that they're talking about you. So you slyly press pause on your walkman, with their chortling they barely heard the click of the button.

“God, purple isn't doing her any favours. I can't believe we're sharing the same car as the freak.” Andy, a jock like Flash, sneers right behind you as he sits at the far end with the luggage because of his size. “That's the color right, babe?”

His girlfriend, Quinn snorts in her seat next to you. “She’s wearing navy blue, babe. And yes that sweater looks fucking ugly, it's so 1975. I think I saw my grandma wear that once.” She twists in her seat to face her boyfriend, elbow hitting your cheek, but you pretend that it didn't happen for your sanity. She doesn't even mention it. “Are you sure you didn't hit your head during the game?”

Andy puts his arms on your headrest, and again, you get hit by elbows. You're starting to hate your club advisor for putting you in the same car as the people who never even wanted to be part of the forestry club in the first place. They joined because your club was unfortunate enough to have less members and therefore was the target of the popular clique because they were ‘too busy’ to pick a required club lest they don't graduate at the end of the year. Oh how you wish you were in the same van as Thena even though she smells like swiss cheese. But alas, you drew the short end of the stick.

“Or maybe he fell on his head when he was a baby.” Emma says nonchalantly with a book in her hands. She's kind of alright to you, only because she doesn't speak or even look at you.

Miranda giggles in the passenger seat while her boyfriend Flash laughs with her.

“I'm color blind, bitch!” Andy yells, making you wince.

“Yeah, he's color blind!” His girlfriend Quinn agrees. You feel like your head is being split open by her shrill voice. You long for swift death in this car.

“That's your comeback, bruv?” Flash eggs Andy on, you worry that his attention isn't fully on the road.

“W-what? You got a better one, fucker?”

“W-w-what?!” Flash says mockingly. A round of laughter echoes around the small wagon, and you swear you heard Andy growl at the guy. You kind of feel bad for the big guy, if he wasn't such an asshole to you.

More than annoyed, you press play on your walkman as they continue to bicker. Punk music filters through your ears and for a moment you feel alright. But this time Miranda hears the click, your former childhood friend turns to look at you with a condescending smirk.

“Welcome back to the real word, Paste.”

You hate that nickname so much, you wanted to throw the walkman at her face. But you take the high ground and just ignore her like you always do. That damned nickname. She thinks she's so clever for thinking of it when you two were just nine when she caught you scooping out a dollop of paste for a birthday card you were making. She thought that you were about to eat it, hence the nickname, Paste. The birthday card was for her, too bad the trashcan ended up receiving it.

“I told you not to call me that—”

“Bitch, look out!” Andy's gruff voice is grating in your ears, his yell trumps out your music as Andy swerves the steering wheel.

“Shit!” Miranda clutches at her seat belt as you see a deer standing right in the middle of the road.

“Fuck!” Emma, holds on to the front seat just as the car goes sideways, tires skidding on the asphalt, blackened smoke coming out of the rubber.

“Mother fucker!” You brace yourself as the chorus of the music in your ears crescendos, and a tree trunk gets dangerously close to the front of the car. “No—!”

You fall into darkness.

—

You hear an animalistic groan the second you're conscious. Eyes fluttering open, you're met with Emma's flashlight flashing on your face.

“She's awake!” She yells as she roams her eyes over your form from outside the car.

“How long was I out?” You touch your throbbing forehead. It aches but thankfully you don't find blood.

“Just a few minutes, sleeping beauty.” This is the longest time she has had a conversation with you. Her blue hair glistens in the afternoon sun as she opens the door for you. “You hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head. “I'm good…I think.”

She sighs, “good, up and at ‘em.”

You take it one tiny step at a time, once your hiking boots hit the grass, you assess the damage of the car. The hood is busted from the tree curved around the metal. The engine is smoking and the lights are smashed to pieces. There's also a huge scratch on the side of it. Mrs. Williams is gonna kill the whole lot of you when she sees her car.

“Oi, Paste!” You roll your eyes at Flash's call.

“I told you not to call me that—!” The second you turn around and set your eyes on the barely alive deer in the middle of the road, you swallow thickly at the poor animal.

“Gnarly, right?” Flash grins, but when he glances at the deer his smile fades. “What are we going to do with it?”

“Should we bury it?” Quinn says whilst hidden behind her boyfriend.

“It’s still alive.” Your eyes never leave the gasping animal. Crossing the small distance, still wobbly in your feet, you tilt your head at its large wound. Even doctor Dolittle can't fix this.

“What do you suggest we do then, Paste?” Miranda side eyes you. “We can't call for help. There's no payphone in sight!” She stomps her foot like a child. “Gah! I should've joined the homemakers club instead of forestry!”

Emma nudges you, “I think I know what Y/N here is thinking.”

“You do?” You furrow your brows.

“You speak freak now, Emma?” Quinn sneers.

You ignore her. “We should end its misery.”

“Fuckin' hell, mate!” Flash gestures wildly at the deer. “It's still alive, maybe if we wait for Mrs. Williams and the others—”

“They might have already passed this place because you and princess here kept needing bathroom breaks.” You blurt out. Miranda and Flash scoff with a shake of their bottle blond heads.

“Woah!” Emma clasps your shoulder. And you flinch away from her touch.

“Paste here has some fire in her!” Quinn joins in, queasiness gone. Queasy Quinn, you should call her that.

With a clenched jaw, you bend down to retrieve your butterfly knife from your boot. Flipping it open, you roam your eyes at the bewildered group.

“Damn.” Andy whistles lowly. His girlfriend punches his bicep.

“Who's gonna do it?” You ask, the deer continues to wheeze out. Its blood now slowly inching its way over to your feet.

“Not me!” They simultaneously say with their index finger pointing at their noses.

You're camping with a bunch of children it seems. With a sigh, you kneel down next to the deer. Looking into its deep brown eyes, it's a sea that threatens to pull you under its sympathy. Your hand settles atop its blood coated fur, matted under your touch, warm and still oozing with fading life. It huffs at you, bleating like it's pleading to be spared, or be taken out of its misery. Whatever it was, you swiftly stab it in its carotid artery right on its neck, as if you've done it a million times before.

The group's disgusted yells and groans fade in your senses as its crimson flows from the wound down to your knife and hand. It's still warm, you feel like you're death itself. The poor deer stops twisting and kicking, finally falling limp in your hands.

Your blood rushes in your ears, pulse thumping like the beat of drums. Something inside you awakens from its dormant state you've forced it inside your ribcage. It flutters right out of its crystalline cocoon, beginning to fly out, trying to escape the confines of your serrated flesh. Breath running warm, you take out your knife from its body.

“Freak,” Miranda taunts under her breath, you can feel that a part of her is afraid. Does she not realize you're the one holding the bloodied knife?

“You looked like you enjoyed that one, Paste.” Her boyfriend agrees, you send them a tensed glare. They both look away from you. You can feel the fear behind their distant eyes.

“Your sweater is wasted.” Quinn raises a brow with an amused glint in her eyes. “Good, it was ugly anyway.”

You stare at your blood soaked sleeve. “I'll go get cleaned up.”

“You better, you smell like a dead rat.” Andy scoffs, arm slung over his girlfriend's shoulders.

“Go, we'll manage here.” Emma says without looking in your direction, eyes trained on the now dead deer, disgusted by its guts flowing out of its many wounds.

You walk back towards the car where your bag is. Once you reach it, you fall on your knees behind the car to avoid any more teasing from your so-called club mates. Weirdly enough, you don't feel shaken by it, nor disgusted like the rest of them. It's a weird feeling. You haven't felt this way in a long time. But this feeling, this enlightened feeling brings you a familiar comfort, bringing you back to your summer camp days.

After collecting your thoughts, you change into a turquoise windbreaker, blood all wiped clean by a wet handkerchief. Once you hide the knife back inside your boot, you return to the rest of the group with your backpack slung over your shoulder. The tin water bottle and skillet clangs against each other, signaling your return.

“Took you long enough,” Quinn says in her high pitched voice that is glass breakingly worthy. “We came up with a plan.” You didn't even know that they're all capable of thinking. “So we thought that we could wait here for the rest of the club to rescue us—”

“Bad idea.” You cut her off. Their eyes are all on you, and you almost shrunk down from their stares. “I–I think we should hike towards the campsite. We have a better chance of meeting up with them that way. We can't wait out here in the cold, especially since we don't know if they've already passed here.”

“Makes sense.” Emma agrees, still avoiding your eyes. Was that fear?

“But that's so far though!” Miranda kicks at a pebble like a petulant child.

You clench your jaw. “Then wait here, I'll hike up to the campsite.” Fixing your hold on your pack, you start walking away. “Don't blame me when you're all freezing to death.”

“Wait for me!” Emma calls after you, running towards the car to get her own pack.

“Not you too, Emma!”

“I'd rather stay with the survivalist than the cheerleaders!”

“Damnit,” Flash curses under his breath while the rest of them look at him, waiting for a plan. “I hate to say it, but she has a point. We have no idea how to even light a fire. But Paste here can.”

You walk quicker when you hear them following you. If you could sprint away, you would've. But alas, you need to conserve every bit of energy you have to trudge through the last miles towards the designated campsite.

Emma walks side by side with you, well, a few steps apart from you. She's silent for the most part except for her lingering gaze on the side of your face. The rest are already arguing behind you after five minutes of walking. Of course they're arguing about the single granola bar that Miranda packed for herself.

You deafen them out in your ears, wishing that the birds would sing louder in the trees to tamp out their voices. You'd put on your headphones but it broke in half during the crash. The air smells fresh in the forest, with the wind brushing along your cheeks like a gentle kiss. You smile gently at the peace, mind cleared of anything but the road in front of you.

Once the asphalt road transitions to a dirt road, it's now a real hike as your group sees the sign that reads, ‘jumping spider campgrounds.’

“Spider?” Quinn shrieks behind you and the peace is broken. “Please don't tell me this camp grounds is full of spiders!”

You realize that she's talking to you. “It's just the name.”

“You sure, Paste?” Flash questions you in a teasing tone. “They named it that for a reason.”

“Augh!” Quinn scampers behind her boyfriend.

You clench your hand on the strap of your backpack. “I've been here a few times and I've only seen two spiders.”

“Two is too much!” Quinn screams. At least no wild animal would come near the group with her voice ringing out through the entire forest. Unless there are wolves running about, then you'd hide behind Andy too. You're sure the wolves would like to eat him first.

With a headache blooming on the top of your head, you finally make it to the campsite after two and a half hours of walking. It's a small clearing in the middle of the woods with a few picnic tables set up and a dilapidated looking restroom sitting in the corner. Instead of Thena waving at you enthusiastically, there's no one in the campsite. A chill runs down your spine. You suppose it's the cold.

“Fuck.” You utter as you find out that the entire place sits empty without your other club mates and advisor.

Miranda and the rest push past you, shoving you to the side to look for a soul in the campsite.

“No! What the fuck!” Andy screams as he looks under a picnic table.

Emma stands in the middle of the clearing, hands gripping her blue hair. “Maybe they're running late?”

“Two hours late even though they were definitely right in front of us?” For once, Miranda says something right.

“Or maybe we're in the wrong campsite!” Quinn comes out of the bathroom with her hands shaking.

“Or they're out hiking already!” Flash crumples down to his feet, looking disheveled.

Then, all their eyes meet yours simultaneously. Their eyes shimmer under the sun, a slight blue hue falling on each of their faces.

You blink, lips slightly agape. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” Miranda walks over to you, pointing stiffly at your chest. “Where are they, hm?”

“How should I know? I was with you all the entire time. I can't communicate with them telepathically!” You immediately defend yourself.

“What the fuck should we do now?” Emma huffs, hands braced on the picnic table. Again, they all stare at you, as if you hold all the answers.

You don't know what to do either. “We should wait for them. They could just be running late. Or maybe they took a wrong turn—”

“God! I should've just joined table tennis!” Miranda exhales out, words carrying out into the woods.

“Listen.” You try to get their attention again. Which surprisingly enough, they give to you. “We should make camp and build a fire. The cold could kill us out here—”

“The cold?!” Miranda screams again, this time in your face. “You're worried about the bloody cold? We could get eaten by bears! Or fucking spiders!”

“If you could just listen for a second—!”

“I'm gonna look for a payphone.” Flash grabs Miranda, leading her further into the campsite.

“There are no payphones out here—!”

“I need to fucking piss.” Andy interrupt you.

“Don't fucking leave me out here!” His girlfriend follows closely behind.

You huff with a groan, frustrated at the situation. One moment they're listening to you, the next they're walking out into the woods.

“I'll set up the tents.” Emma says from the side. “I don't want to freeze to death.” She takes out her folded tent inside her pack. Clearing her throat, she looks at you. “Do you want me to set up yours?”

“Would you?” You ask with trepidation, what if she fills your tent with dirt and rocks?

“Yeah, sure. My dad used to take me out camping. I hated it but at least I learned some basic survival skills.”

“Like pitching up a tent?”

She chuckles nervously. “Exactly!” Coughing, she walks over to you to take your tent. “No tricks, I don't want you to freeze too.”

With slight apprehension, you give her your tent. Bag still slung over your shoulder, as much as you trust her right now, you don't trust her to give her your entire supply for surviving out here.

“I'll find some firewood and build a fire.” You say, rubbing your arms up and down for warmth.

“‘kay, watch out for jumping spiders. Or just regular spiders.” She jokes, managing to make you smile.

“I have bug spray with me, I'm sure I'll be fine.” Walking away, you head towards the left side of the forest where it's more familiar to you. Getting lost is the last thing you'll need here, especially when you're partnered up with people who wouldn't notice that you're gone.

Your feet aches and your neck throbs, despite it, you keep your head down to collect more firewood. You gather it in your arms, mindful that it doesn't poke a hole in your windbreaker.

You see a perfect branch near a pine tree, it's straight with a few bumps on the wood. It looks like something a kid would take to play as a knight. So of course you would take it.

Arm too full of branches, you bend at the waist to grab one from the forest floor. You don't anticipate all the firewood in your arms to spill over and fall on the mossy ground. It all tumbles down like a domino while you struggle to grab them even with your pack being so heavy on your back. And you're left with a single branch in your hand, sighing and silently cursing.

Left with no choice, you kneel down to collect it all again. You hear leaves crunch behind you, yet you continue to gather all the fallen firewood.

“Need help?” A voice suddenly follows the crunching sound. You don't yell or scream from the surprise appearance of the unknown voice.

You look over your shoulder, windbreaker making a swoosh sound as you move. Your eyes lock with his hazel eyes, he stands there, all six feet and five inches of him, (approximately in your mind) under the green canopy and greener moss underneath his steel toed boots, he looks right at home in the forest. But at the same time, he seems out of place with all his leather clad self, numerous patches stitched and buttons dotted along his jacket. His piercings shine as the light passes above, showing you his chiseled features. He looks like he crawled out of a catalogue, or from a punk album.

The sight of him makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but you can't seem to find it in yourself to walk away or look away from him. It's like you're staring at a shark's fin moving underneath the waves, parting the waters in a glorious display of a deadly dance. You know what's underneath, and you know what it entails if you stayed, but you still stand there, gazing upon his mysterious eyes that hold you in place.

He gives you a familiar feeling akin to a cold breeze brushing along your flushed skin, or perhaps a gentle wave pooling around your ankles at the beach. There's warmth and familiar coldness in his eyes, one that you're sure you've seen in yourself.

“H–hi?” You ask, smile a bit wobbly from how awestruck you are. Something passes by his eyes, something akin to fascination.

“Hello,” the stranger grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, hands still tucked inside his pockets. “Are you lost? D’you need help?”

“Not really.” You chuckle nervously. He walks towards you, footsteps barely making any sound. “Are you camping here alone? Have you seen anyone else here?”

He shakes his head, crouching down to pick up all the fallen branches. “Yes, and no one, just you, love.”

You hold a single branch to your chest, “oh, you don't need to help me.”

“I want to, I can't just stand there and let you pick all these up.” He chuckles deeply, you now notice his dimples whenever he smiles. “You ‘ere with your mates? I heard you lot from where I was.”

“Kind of.” You softly smile, finding his own contagious. Something about him makes you feel at ease, more like yourself. “Do you know a payphone nearby? We need it desperately.”

He hands you the branches in your arms, calloused palms brushing along your own. “I think there's one a few miles west ‘ere.”

Your face brightens, and his gaze softens. “That's great, can you take me there? I need to call our advisor. I'm…worried about them, and Flash the moron totaled the car.”

The handsome stranger stands up, and he lends you a helping hand which you take almost immediately. His hand feels cold yet inviting. “So you're with your classmates then? How many are you stuck ‘ere?”

“Yep— kind of, they're my club mates. There's six of us including me.”

He inhales, the corner of his lip curls into a smile. “Alright, I'll help you.”

You sigh in relief. “I'm Y/N by the way.”

He tests your name sweetly on his tongue. Reaching for your hand, he shakes it gently even with you carrying the firewood. You almost fumbled with it when you grasped his hand. “Hobie. Call me Hobie, love.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You haven't smiled this much during the whole trip.

“C’mon, I'll show you where the phone is.”

You nod enthusiastically despite the goosebumps running up your arms. “Okay.”

Hobie smiles, a smile akin to a lion's grin. “I'll take those off you, then.” He takes your armful of branches on his own, all the while having his eyes on you. “I can't live with myself if I let you carry this all alone.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel warm, a good kind of warm. “Can I at least take half of it?”

He chuckles while fixing his hold on the wood. “You can take one.” At first you thought he was joking, but with his raised brow and curl of his lips, you thought otherwise.

You fight a grin. “Just one?” With a nod from your acquaintance, you take a single branch from the pile in his arms. “You sure you can carry it all?”

In a display of strength, he flips the branches over to one arm, carrying it all with no problem. “See? You already took a load off of it.” You tamp down a giggle. He starts to walk away from you, when he notices that you're not following him, he looks over his shoulder casually. “You comin'?”

Looking behind you, your second thoughts about leaving them behind are squashed down by their ugly words uttered to you through the years. “Sorry, I'm coming.” You catch up with him, side by side, you follow him with a small smile.

Leaves crunch under your boots whilst you fling the branch in your hand bashfully, letting the wood brush over the tall grass. The silence permeates through the hike with him carrying the load, and guiding you while you just walk close by him. You've never been the one to be guided, it's always you who has to guide the others, keep a watchful eye so they don't get poison ivy, and you, who has to lug around the supplies. All the while you listen to them expressing their ungratefulness. You stare at his profile, smile tugging at your lips immediately when he gazes back at you wordlessly. It's nice to be taken care of once in a while.

For the first time in a long time, you start a conversation. A friendly one that you know won't end in you getting called a nasty word.

“So why camp alone?” You tentatively start, nails picking at the branch in your hand. “This part of the forest isn't exactly beginner friendly.”

“Who says ‘m a beginner?” He nudges you gently, making you look up from your feet. “My mates and I used to come ‘ere and just stay for an entire week forgettin’ our lives until we got the scent of city smoke out of our noses.” Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through glimmering eyes. “Now it's jus’ me and my motorbike.”

“What happened to them— i–if you're comfortable telling me.”

“A freak accident. There was a forest fire, I barely made it out. But they didn't.” He sighs, you open your mouth for an apology but he beats you to it. “It was a long time ago, no need to say your condolences.”

“Still, I'm sorry. It must've been hard.” You reach out to him, but you decide not to last minute lest you make your new friend uncomfortable.

Hobie leans against your palm before you fully move away, his smile gets brighter when you decide to cup his elbow gently. “Thank you, love. I come ‘ere to look at the shitty condo they built atop it and imagine that it's burnin.’ Ain't that fucked up of me, hm?”

You chuckle, already regretting the sound right after. “I— no, that's actually…uh.”

“Funny?” He completes your sentence while chortling at your flustered self.

You blink, fully laughing with him. “I was gonna say that but I didn't want to offend you!”

“Consider me not offended, love. You've got a sense of humour amidst the fucked up shit in the world, I fancy that in a bird.” The heat on your cheek is impossible to ignore, you have a feeling he knows about it too. “The funny thing is that it's not even done yet, it just stands there on their graves like some fucked up grave stone.” He sniffs, thumb rubbing along the corner of his eye. “My turn to ask a question, what kind of club are you and your mates are in?”

“Forestry. And they're not exactly my mates.” You spat out the last word with malice. You both pass by a towering pine tree and a start to a dirt trail.

“Alright— hold on…” he pauses mid step, with a careful hand atop your shoulder, he reaches for your cheek, “you have red on you, can I?”

You don't usually let anyone touch you, especially someone who's practically a stranger. But the familiar feeling grows with every moment you're with him. As if you've known him for a long time, a long lost childhood friend that you've finally found amidst the throng of worthless faces. So you let him with a nod, let him wipe away the deer's dried up blood caking your cheek. The pad of his thumb is calloused and rough, yet his touch is as gentle as a raindrop falling on your skin. You welcome the feeling wholeheartedly.

“There, all clean.” He doesn't ask why you have blood on you, “it was hidin’ your pretty face.”

“It was just a drop, and I highly doubt that.” You say bashfully.

“That you're pretty or that it hides your face?” His hand rests upon your shoulder, thumb ghosting above your heated cheek. “You’re stunnin’, I wasn't going to let that small thing mark you.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. There it is again, the familiar yet cold feeling washing over you. It's a beautiful contradiction. You're not perturbed by it in the slightest. “Thank you.” you could only manage to say those two words.

Hobie leans away, hand pulling reluctantly away from you. From the way his tender gaze falls on you, you think he feels it too. It's not love, not yet anyway. It's attraction. The kind that's magnetic, the kind that you know he'll fit right in with your missing pieces, the kind that he'd let himself fall into place right next to the spaces that he can and will gladly fill out. His soul glows behind his calm demeanor, as if the two last endangered beings have finally met their match. Feathers plucked from the same bird.

But it's an unspeakable match, one that could end in teeth marks left upon each other’s skin, leaving darkened blood boiling to the surface, caking each other’s maw with his and your own blood. So you two let it simmer, let it boil until one of you cracks under the pressure like trapped frogs in a boiling pot. So for now, you act as if you don't feel it in case you're wrong. Something you wouldn't want to be wrong with.

You bite the inside of your cheek while you continue to follow him. Each of your footsteps match the beating of your heart, and you swear that he can feel it too.

Walking out of the thicket and into a clearing, you two have made it out to a smaller campsite where a single eerie lamp post and payphone stands in the middle. Its paint is chipping from the elements, only leaving a few scraps of red and stickers vandalizing the payphone. There's a steep ledge behind the payphone, showing the top of the green canopies below, and the fading light from the sunset above.

“I'll wait for you ‘ere.” He says next to you, already walking towards a black and red motorbike parked at the edge of the clearing.

“This yours?” You ask with a smile, eyes roaming all over its shiny metal.

He pats the seat before leaning on it. “My treasure, I call her ‘Ripley’”

“From the Alien movie?” You walk closer to him, payphone forgotten.

“You know it?”

“Do I know it?” You say with a laugh, “‘Mother! I've turned the cooling unit back on. Mother!’” You copy the same tone from the movie.

“‘The ship will automatically destruct in T minus five minutes.’” Hobie replies in a mechanical robotic tone.

“‘You... Bitch!’” You and Hobie quote simultaneously, earning a hearty laugh from the both of you.

You've found yourself holding onto his arm, smiling and giggling with him. “Y’know, they've got a screening of it down at the local drive-in.” You tentatively say, eyes turned down at the pile of branches in his arms.

Hobie puffs out his chest, chin turned upwards with a smirk. “You askin' me out, lovie?”

You exhale, moving away with disappointment and a wobbly frown. “N–no, sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking.” Before you could fully walk away, he grabs your sleeve, tugging you gently back to him.

“C’mon now, love, don't walk away now.” He encourages you with a lopsided grin, eyes smiling genuinely as he gazes at you softly. “Ask me properly.” He bracelets his hand around your wrist, holding onto you gently while he runs his thumb over your quickening pulse.

“I—” you swallow thickly, and he ducks down to look into your shy eyes. With his sweet smile, you gather your courage. “Do you want to go watch Alien with me at the drive-in?” You inhale, his grin gets bigger with every word you utter. “We can have p–popcorn, or if you don't like popcorn, we can have chips and—and then maybe soda but if you don't like soda we can—”

He pulls you in, trapped right in the middle of his legs, not closing in around you, making you more comfortable in his tentative embrace. “I like popcorn. And I'll take you on a motorcycle ride right after, like how they do in the movies.”

Your skin is aflame. “Okay,” you nod enthusiastically, “a ride right after— I mean!” You fluster, “a bike ride— with me and and you— of course with me and you, it's stupid if—” you ramble on, tripping over your own words. He waits patiently without teasing you. Instead, he smiles, and nods along. “I— yeah, that sounds good.”

He tilts his head, hand brushing a fallen leaf off your shoulder. “Yeah? It's a date then.”

You sigh longingly. You still can't wrap your mind around at how you manage to pull it off. “Okay, I'll—” you reach inside your jacket, pulling out a small notepad and pen, moving quickly to scribble your name and number, afraid that he'll change his mind. “Here's my number.” You rip the page and then hand it to him.

He shrugs, smirking at you. “My hands are kind of full, love.” Technically it is, but he literally just brushed a leaf off of you a moment ago. “Put it in my front pocket for me?” Looking down at his jacket pocket, he smiles sheepishly.

“You and I both know that you can handle it on your own.” You tamp down a giggle, teeth biting down at your lip while you watch him make a face. “Fine, I'll only do it because you're being cute.” Gently, you place it inside his jacket pocket. Your fingers brush something metallic and sharp, but you ignore it. “There.”

“Finally flirtin’ back, huh?”

“Shut up and hand me a quarter, Hobie.” His guffaw echoes around the clearing as he reaches at his jean pocket to rustle for some spare change. “Sorry, too much?” You wince, thinking that it might've turned him off.

He shakes his head with amusement. “You're cheeky once you've gotten comfortable.” He hands you the coin.

“Well, people usually don't stay too long to find out.”

“Their loss, my win.”

You smile, palms clammy and legs turning into mush from his flirting. Staring at the coin in your hand, you find it having two heads on each side. “I don't think the payphone will take this.” It reminds you of the same lucky coin that your club advisor always carries around.

“Right, sorry, that's my lucky coin.” He grabs it back nonchalantly, then he rummages through his pocket for another one. Checking it once, he gives the quarter to you. “Use it wisely.”

“A lot of people seem to have their own lucky coin.” You twirl the regular quarter in between your fingers.

“You don't have one?” He creases his brows, you shake your head in reply. “‘ere you go then.” Taking the coin from his pocket again, he puts it in the middle of your palm. “For luck.”

“I can't take this, it's yours.” You try to give it back but he pushes your hand away.

“Nah, you can borrow it. Bring it back to me on our date, yeah?”

You chuckle softly, eyes gazing into his own, finding your bashful reflection in his hazel eyes. “Okay.” With a shy nod, you turn towards the payphone to dial your school's number.

—

Hobie waits for you in the sideline while he basks in the sunlight. His eyes are closed while his head is turned up into the heavens, arms cradling the sticks, letting the rays bathe him through the dappled shadows of the canopy above. He looks like an oil painting.

He cracks one eye opening, sensing your presence. “What’d they say?” Straightening up, he tilts his head.

“Uh…” You've forgotten what the school administrator told you for a second. “T–they said that the rest of the club had already called ahead to tell them that they've arrived at the last pit stop. But we were just there and when I asked the cashier at the gas station, she said that she didn't see a van stop by.” You rub at your tired eyes. “I don't know where they are.”

Hobie leaves the side of his bike to cross the small distance towards you. His eyes are full of concern, lips turned into a frown. “‘m sure they're fine, love.” He juggles the wood in one arm to grasp at your tensed hand, giving you enough space to turn away but you don't.

“I’m not worried about them, Hobie. I know they're okay. But…” you squeeze his hand, “I don't want to be left alone with those fuckers.”

He scrunches his nose. “What fuckers?”

“I— forget it, I'll just tough it out until the others get here.”

“Nah, I'll keep you company.” He pulls you gently by your hand, “c’mon, I'll beat ‘em off with a stick if I have to. I have a lot of ‘em.” He shakes the bundle of wood in his arms.

You chuckle, “you don't even know what they've done.”

“I know enough from how you talk ‘bout ‘em.” He shrugs, warm fingers squeezing you back. “They sound like a piece of work.”

“You have no idea.” With a reluctant step, you move towards the trail once again. Hand in hand with Hobie, the two of you head to the campsite where surely they've forgotten about you and your firewood. Or with your luck, the spiders got to them.

“What did they do to you?” He cuts the silence in half. “Do they hurt you?” His tone softens with a tinge of fury within it.

“Not usually.” You reply back, eyes turned away from him. He encourages you with a gentle tug, lips softly smiling at you. Inhaling, you let it all out with hope that it doesn't turn him off with your woes. “The guys just tease me about… everything else. But the girls— they once locked me in the janitor's closet for an entire day. The janitor found me hours after classes ended.” You can hear his sharp inhale next to you. “One time they…uh— threw glue and flour at me during picture day. I had to go home after that and I didn't get my picture taken for the yearbook. It's just blank, fitting, right?”

Hobie shakes his head, eyes swirling with something you can't describe. “No, it's not. They're wankers.”

“I— yeah, they are.” You feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. No one has listened to you like that in years. Before it was Miranda, before she decided that you're not worth being friends with. “I know what you're thinking, I should fight back. I tried, it only made everything worse. They only do it because they think I don't belong in their fancy school. That I'm only there because of my merit, not because of my parents' money or lack of it.” Looking up at Hobie, you see him staring back with a clenched jaw. “I'm sorry, that was….pathetic.” You grip the branch tighter until you can feel the splinters digging into your palm. “We don't get to choose the room we're stuck in. But we can choose the people we let in. Graduation's coming, and I get to kick them out soon.” You smile at him and he smiles back with soft empathetic eyes.

“Maybe sooner than you'd think. And It isn't pathetic, they're the pathetic ones.” You both reach the place where you met him as you question inside your mind what he meant by his first sentence. He stops walking, hand carefully pulling you to a stop. “I have a confession to make. ‘m not ‘ere to grieve.”

You furrow your brows, stopping mid step. “What?”

“I know them, the rich fuckers that torments you.”

“So you know me too?” You let go of his hand, heart cracking.

“No, not you, just ‘em.” He glances behind you where you can hear Quinn's laughter. “Just— I'll tell you after, yeah? For now, I want to tell you that everythin' I told you was real. I do want that date, love. I only ever want to see you.”

“For real?” You reach for him, palm placed on his chest. Hobie drops the sticks unceremoniously, the sound of wood clattering down on the soil.

He then holds your hand in place, fingers curling around it. “Real. I need you to know me fully. Let me in the room y'know.” With a sigh of relief, you lean closer as he mirrors your movements, lips pursing, breath fanning over your lips.

“Paste!” Miranda suddenly yells from behind you. Whirling around, your smile falters. “Shit, there you are! Who the fuck are you talking to, you freak?”

“I—” you turn back around to face Hobie but he's nowhere to be found. Your breath gets stuck in your throat. “He was right there.”

She clicks her tongue at you, “stop tripping and get back to camp! The sun's setting.”

She doesn't help you with the firewood as she leaves you alone in the middle of the forest. You look around in hopes of finding Hobie, but you don't see nor hear him anywhere. Sighing, hope dashed, and chest aching with longing, you walk slowly back to camp.

—

After three hours of setting up camp with barely any help from the others, the tents are fully pitched behind you, and you finally get to sit down and rest near the campfire you built with the same wood that Hobie was carrying. For someone whom you just met, he seems to occupy your mind ever since he left. He told you he'd stay for you, but why would he leave the moment Miranda appeared?

The fire engulfs your frozen heart, you watch as the embers crackle, eyes unblinking at the bonfire. Your hands cradle a can of peaches, you haven't taken a bite of it ever since you opened it, your mind keeps wandering back to Hobie, wondering if he was even real.

“Oi, paste!” Andy calls for you, when you don't acknowledge him, he throws a tin can at you that lands right on your thigh. “Jesus, she's out of it.”

“Did you find some mushrooms out there, pasty?” Quinn's mocking tone makes you glance at them without moving your head. You can see her flinch slightly from your glare.

“Man, if you actually did find some mushrooms, can I have a bite?” Emma asks, back leaning on a log while she nurses a flask of vodka. You can smell it from where you're sitting.

“I didn't find any.” You mutter, eyes flickering down at the fire, vision swirling at the dancing flames.

“Too bad, remember when we found some last time?” Flash chuckles, arm snaked over Miranda's shoulders, who stare at him dumbstruck.

“What the fuck, Flash?!” She slaps his bicep in a resounding smack. “I told you that we can't talk about it!”

“Relax, M, it's been two whole years! Besides, our parents made sure that it stays buried. Literally.” That piqued your interest. Subtly, you listen in. Flash guffaws, fist bumping Andy on his way to snatch the flask away from Emma. He takes a generous sip while Andy cheers him on. “Fuck, that's good.”

“Those mushrooms fucked us up real fucking bad, Flash. It wasn't some bad trip.” Miranda chastises, she turns towards Emma and the others, sneering at each of them. “Did you all not remember what happened?”

“Of course we do, Miranda.” Quinn scoffs, flinging Andy's arm away from her middle. “I can still hear the screams!”

You blink, being practically invisible has its perks. Your hands grip the can, ears straining to hear more of the hushed conversation.

“Screams?” Andy shakes his big head, “try the smell, their burning skins were stuck in my nose for weeks.”

Miranda rubs her face, “you lot have no ounce of empathy do you?”

“Please,” Emma adds, glaring at each of them before stopping by Miranda. “You were the one who insisted we stayed at the campsite instead of our usual place. Now there's a patch of burnt forest where your father's— mind you, my father's, Quinn's mother, Andy's parents and Flash's grandfather, contributed to hide the crime where the condo now stands.”

Your eyes widens, hand slithering its way inside your pocket only to find the two headed coin. So it's real, Hobie is real. So it wasn't a freak accident, and this is what He meant by knowing them.

They killed his friends.

Miranda seethes in place, hands clenched into fists. “I'm not the one who decided to light up in the middle of summer where the dry leaves were! And now we're stuck here, forced to take forestry because a judge said so!”

“Oh fuck you, Miranda.” Quinn stands up, stomping her bedazzled boot on the ground. “If it weren't for my mum then we'd all be in fucking jail! Getting stuck with the freak was the lesser demon!”

“It's ‘lesser evil,’ actually.” You finally add, eyes glancing at each of their angry faces. “And man, how many people did you all kill, hm?”

“It was an accident.” Emma blinks at you, “fuck, great, she knows.”

Andy huffs like a mad bull seeing red flapping in front of him. “You gonna keep quiet about it, paste, or do I have to make you?”

Their stares bore into you, you now realize the amount of danger that you're in. Individually, you can take one down, but with them all after you, you won't survive the morning.

So you dig deep, you free the moth from the pits of your soul, letting it loose. “Oh, I'm going to keep quiet about it. Who would believe me anyway?” You scoop out a peach from the untouched can, bringing it to your mouth, you let the fruit slide down your throat. “Besides, I know something you don't. Something important that could lead to dangerous consequences if you didn't know.”

“What is it?” Emma looks you up and down, brows knitted together in uneasiness.

You tilt your head, grinning but your eyes don't convey the same expression. “Only if you promise not to hurt me.”

They all look at eachother, silently agreeing. “Fine,” Flash starts, “what is it?”

You lean back on the tree trunk, “you forgot to say please.”

They scoff, “please.” Emma says it first, then one by one, they say it with reluctance.

Miranda is the only one who hasn't said a word, but with a steely gaze from her boyfriend, she relents. “Please.” She says through gritted teeth.

You smile. “Mrs. Williams and the others aren't coming.”

“What?!” They shout.

“Yeah, I called the school but turns out they don't know where they are either. They're technically missing.” You pause, watching their expression sour further. “I told them where we are but since we're fairly alright they're focusing on trying to find them instead. So we're stuck here— wait, no, I'm stuck here with a bunch of murderers.” That seems to break the camel's back.

“You fucking freak!” Miranda jumps over the bonfire, lunging towards you with her fist connecting with your cheek. “Say that again!”

You laugh, spitting out blood as she wraps her hands around your throat. The others watch while Emma is the only one that's trying to stop her from choking you out with her hands, desperately failing to wrench her away from you.

“A–all this time,” you wheeze out, “you keep calling me the freakazoid, the fucking weirdo when you and your fucked up little friends are the ones who have actually kill—!” With a yell, she closes her fists around your throat, cutting off your air while you claw at her hands. “Fucking b–bitch!” You manage to let out.

“Miranda, no!” Emma tries to yank her away from you.

“That's enough!” Flash finally tries to do something but Miranda elbows his nose, blood quickly pouring out a second later. “Shit!”

Quinn and Andy slowly back away until they're well into the forest, nowhere to be seen.

“Fucking die!” Miranda squeezes harder as black spots filter your vision, she bangs your head harshly against the log behind you, warm crimson trickling out immediately after impact. “You've always been a thorn on my side! Always so fucking perfect, always the better one!”

You grin despite the blood coating your mouth. “I–I won't be surprised if it w–wasn't an accident. I get it, your mom and dad never loved you enough. Is that it, Miranda?” You choke, using your remaining energy to get the last word out, nails digging into her wrists.

Suddenly, piercing screams echo above your gasps. Flash manages to yank Miranda's grasp around your throat, leaving you breathless and gasping on the cold soil. The three of them look where the sound came from with trepidation rising in their veins.

Holding onto your neck, the skin tender and raw, head swirling, you watch on with wide eyes as Quinn comes out of the thicket covered in blood. Her former pristine white coat is drenched, face splashed with the same ruby hue, trainers leaving a trail of thickened crimson. She holds onto her bleeding arm, lips wobbling as tears leave a streak of clean skin amidst the spray of blood. Her head is oozing more of the ichor as she staggers her way out of the dark.

“H–help.”

“Fucking hell.” Emma holds out her arms for her, face contorted into deep fear. “W–what happened? Where's Andy?”

“He's dead!” Quinn cries, feet shuffling slowly towards Emma. Meanwhile, Flash and Miranda watch on with horror, clutching onto one another. “He doesn't have a head anymore. How will he play rugby now?” Just as when Quinn lets out the last word, the arm she has been holding up falls on the ground, making a squelching sound as it meets the grass below. Emma backs away, hands upon her mouth, shocked and terrified. “Oh, my arm fell.” Quinn chuckles through tears only to then tumble down on the gore filled soil right next to her arm.

“What the fuck?!” Emma shrieks.

“No!” Miranda hides behind Flash, who is also trying to hide behind his girlfriend, they struggle to hide behind one another.

You stare at the tainted dirt where Quinn lays face first. She still gurgles in place, body twitching all the while her arm sits a few ways from her. Your blood rushes in your ears, mouth turning dry, chest heaving to let air in. You have no idea what's happening, but there's one thing on your mind.

Run.

With leaves crunching underfoot, out comes a tall figure dressed in black mechanic overalls. His face is obscured by a macabre theater mask that depicts sadness. In his hand is a bloodied machete, and in the other is Andy's head swinging as he moves. He flicks the weapon free of blood, spraying the tall grass below with oozing iron.

You don't wait for the screams to run ahead. With your neck still aching, head pounding, you run for your life.

The hunting begins.

—

You run into the dark nowhere, panting, vision dancing as you push yourself to your limit. If not for your injuries, you'd have a better time navigating the forest from your acquired skills. You've gained some distance between you and the others, so with an apprehensive peek behind a tree, you sit down on the cold soil, back sliding on the trunk, windbreaker scraping against its rough surface.

With a hand on your chest, you try to even out your shallow breathing. “Fuck.” You mutter, tongue brushing along your dry lips.

Reaching behind you, you feel for your wound. Wincing, you bring your hand back towards you, finding blood coating your fingers. Your survival instincts kicks in, perhaps your years as a volunteer summer camp counselor has its perks. An incident with a bear trap involving a fellow counselor was an accident, it wasn't your fault that they blindly stepped into it. Too bad it forced your camp to close permanently.

Zipping your windbreaker slowly so as to not make any noise, you slowly rip the bottom half of your shirt. Once off, you tie it around your head while biting down on the inside of your cheek to tamp down your pained groans. With a tug, you tighten it fully to help stop the blood flow.

You take a breather, that motorcycle ride with Hobie sounds great right about now— Hobie! Your eyes fly open to the thought of him, he can get you out of here on his bike. If not then you can call for help on the payphone. So you find courage deep in you, with a shaky exhale, you stand up, walking back to the same direction where you ran from. You could only hope that he's alright.

Armed with your butterfly knife, you're careful of where you step on. You avoid dry leaves and sticks, opting to walk on the softer soil instead to lessen the sound you make lest you draw a target right on your back.

After a few minutes of trudging along the dark, you make it back to the campsite. The smell of corpses filters through your nose, its smell is just beginning to rot in the moist air as maggots and crows have managed to find their meal.

“Damn it.” You cover your nose with your sleeve, creeping your way towards your pack. You pass by a very much dead Andy, whose head is left out for the worms to get into. His expression is frozen in fear, mouth agape, and eyes wide in surprise. “That colour suits you, Andy.” You scoff, remembering how he tormented you during class by almost burning your hair with his lighter. You watch as maggots eat their way into his eyeball, eyes unable to look away for a moment.

Getting inside your tent, you give one last look at Quinn laying on the ground, unmoving now and skin turning into chalk white. Red still pools around her while the quiet of the night permeates through the chill autumn air.

Pushing the tent open, you enter to grab your backpack on the ground. Finally, hope blossoms in your chest, but the sound of a twig snapping near you freezes you on the spot. You slowly grab your knife next to your leg, all the while barely making any sudden movements. Your eyes flicker on your left, a shadow forms behind the yellow tent, slowly making its way towards you.

You follow its movements, hand gripping the knife until it leaves indents on your skin.

A bead of sweat slides down your temple as the shadow makes its way to the front of your tent.

Breath stuck in your throat, you raise the knife above your head, ready to strike.

A shadow of a hand reaches towards the tent entrance, and you ready yourself.

The tent opens and already you're lunging at them with your knife raised and hand clutching at their front.

“Jesus, it's me!” Flash yells from under you, hands gripping at your windbreaker, eyes wide and blown out as blood flows from a cut on his cheek. “Lower your damn knife, paste.”

“Your girlfriend tried to kill me, why should I?”

“Because I'm not her, duh?!” He shakes his head, hands raised next to him in surrender. “Listen, let's set our differences aside for a second, okay? I don't know a damn thing about surviving out here but I do know that we've got a bigger chance of staying alive if we stay together.”

You clench your jaw, weighing your options. If push comes to shove, you can use him as your shield since he's bigger built than you.

“...fine. But you listen to me, and do what you're told or I'll leave you here.” You push yourself off him, the knife never leaving your grasp.

Flash nods, standing up and brushing himself off. “Do you have a plan? Because you sound like you have a plan.”

“I do.” You say whilst going back inside the tent to grab your backpack. Once you emerge, you find Flash standing above Andy's decapitated head. “C’mon.” Beckoning him, you open your flashlight. He still stands there, staring at his friend's head. “Flash, do you want me to leave you here?”

He sighs, eyes trained on the rotting head. “He was my best friend. I should've told him that I slept with Quinn.”

You snort, “trust me, buddy, he knows.”

“What?” He turns to you.

“Come on before he gets back.”

Flash takes one last look at Quinn's body and Andy's head before jogging to catch up to you. “So how did you know?”

“Shut up, I don't want to talk to you.” You ignore him while walking the same path you and Hobie took.

“Jeez, you're no fun.” He says while making a disgusted face at Andy's dead body that you stepped over nonchalantly.

You whirl around, flashlight aimed at his face as he scrunches up his nose. “This isn't supposed to be fun, Flash. Say one more word and I'll leave you out here, because if he hasn't gotten to Miranda and Emma yet, you'll be the next one he targets.” He nods furiously, frown evident on his face. “Good.”

After a few good minutes, you find the same purple flower you saw while walking with Hobie. “So how do you know that I'm next—?”

“Because if it was me, I'll kill the ones who can fight me off first.”

“And you know this because?” He asks you suspiciously, eyes narrowed at you.

“Just nature. And lots of horror movies.” He continues to stare at you with the same face. “I'm not the killer, you moron. I was with you when he attacked, remember?”

“Yeah, but in those killer movies there's always more than one killer.” He leans closer to you, eyes staring daggers. “You one of them, paste?”

You pause, craning your neck to stare at him back with venomous eyes. “You imbecile.” You mock before walking again. He stands there for a moment, unblinking at where you stood. He follows after your light is starting to fade from his line of sight.

“So…you're not one of them?”

“There's the phone.” You roam your eyes around the clearing all the while ignoring the man next to you. The pay phone still stands completely unharmed, and the lamp post flickers in the night, bulb whirring above the sound of owls. Your heart aches when you don't find a sign of Hobie being there or his bike. You like to imagine that he's far away from the chaos right about now, at least he'd be safe.

Crossing the distance, you pick up the phone, finding it still in good condition as you hear the dial tone. You rummage through your pockets for a quarter, but to no avail. And then you check around the payphone and the coin flap to check for any forgotten coins. You don't find a single one. “Fuck, do you have a quarter?”

“Shit.” Flash pats his jean pockets and varsity jacket pockets. Again, finding empty handed. “Wait—” he takes off his baseball hat to take out a crisp bill. “Here, it's my emergency money.”

You stare at the bill wordlessly while pointing at the coin slot. He shakes his head, gawping at you. You gesture at the slot then at his bill in hand until he gets it.

Realization flickers in his dim witted eyes. “Oh.”

“Oh.” You mock his tone. “We can't make a call without one.”

“What now?”

“I say we just follow the road and hope that a car comes by.” You point at the dark dirt road ahead of you. “Better get walking—”

An ear piercing scream startles Flash, while your head swivels down at the direction of the sound.

“Shit, that's Miranda!” Flash yells, grabbing your hand in his iron grip, and gunning down the slope to get to the source. “I'm coming, baby! I'm so sorry I slept with Quinn, Darlene, and the rest of your cheer team!” His voice rings in your ears while you're trapped in his hold, you try to pull away and get back to solid ground as he continues to drag you away to the dark abyss but he's too strong for you.

“Flash! Let me go!” You pull and tug with all your might but you're left trying to catch up with his speed while your feet drag behind. “Fuck!” A branch hits you right on your face, getting a mouthful of leaves while you almost lose your balance as you skid down the slope.

“Baby—! Oh mother of fuck!” He freezes, hand falling from your wrist, staring at the unfinished building looming overhead amidst the tall trees and overgrown grass. “Shit, it's this place.”

You glance around the space, finding abandoned heavy machinery, concrete, and trailers littered around the skeleton of a would be condo.

“Flash!” Miranda appears from behind a pillar, limping her way towards you and Flash. “He got Emma!” She embraces him while Flash's attention is glued on the grey building with its protruding metal that creaks in the wind and moss covered concrete. “I definitely tried to save her but she tripped and now she's dead with her body chopped in half!”

You glance at her, finding her tears utterly fake. “Or you tripped her.”

She leans away from flash's chest, eyes narrowed to slits and lips frowning. “You're still alive?”

“No thanks to you.” You smile bitterly at her. Before she gets a word in, you're already walking away towards the tall building, eyes scanning its skeletal structure. You notice the ground is darker from where you stand. “This is where it happened.” You turn towards the couple, “this is where they died.”

“Listen, it wasn't completely our fault.” Miranda stalks closer towards you and you quickly ready your knife in your hand. “We were just playing around, we didn't mean to.”

“You're grown ass adults, Miranda. Did none of you listen to Smokey?”

“No, we were too busy having friends, paste.” She mocks, even in danger she finds it in herself to torment you. “That is not our problem right now, we need to go—!”

A sudden bright spotlight appears in front, you squint your eyes, managing to see the masked figure behind the wheel of a motorbike. Oh. He revs his engine, taunting Flash and Miranda.

“Oh fuck, he's back!” Flash yelps, surprisingly enough, he shields Miranda behind him, arms raised to his sides. “Touch my girlfriend and you die!�� You raise a brow at his sudden heroic action.

“Yeah, you tell him, baby!” Miranda coaxes him while you step away and watch the scene unfold.

The masked killer revs his engine again, this time, he rides towards you at lightning speed. Smoke billows out from behind him, blanketing the whole area with fog.

The couple screams, bracing for impact while you step back with your eyes only looking at the killer.

Instead of plowing them down with his bike, he skids on the ground sideways, stopping a few ways ahead of the three of you. Once the sound dies down to a murmur of the engine, Flash and Miranda open their eyes to find the killer tossing his machete at their feet.

“Are you surrendering?” Flash turns to you. “Is he surrendering?” You could only shrug.

The figure points at the blade, and then gets off his bike, letting it run in the background and using its light to illuminate the place. Wordlessly, he stomps over to the front of the bike, his figure obscuring the light a bit.

You can't see his eyes from behind the mask as he gestures towards the glade once again. “I think he's trying to tell you to pick it up and fight him.”

“What?” They both look at you with surprise, they simultaneously turn towards the figure, only to find him eerily nodding in approval.

Flash points at himself, and the man nods slowly. “Fuck.”

“Pick it up, babe, show him how it's done!” Miranda cheers him on, pushing him towards the machete. “End his miserable life so we can get back to our lives.” She spits out.

With a gulp, Flash bends down to grab the blade with reluctance. Miranda moves closer to your side, hand grasping your arm. You let her while Flash assumes the position in front of the figure.

“Come at me!” Flash yells, lunging for him.

With a quick side step, the figure dodges with barely any movement. Flash follows ahead with his attack, raising the weapon over his head to slice but his miserable attack is only met with air. All the while, the stranger has his hands hidden in his pockets, upper half barely making a move as he keeps dodging Flash's desperate slashes.

“Stop moving!” Flash frustratingly yells while sweat flows from his forehead.

“You're not fair!” Miranda adds, yelping when Flash gets close to cutting the figure's hand off, but of course he dodges at the last minute. “Fuck! Come on, baby!”

Flash moves to stab instead, “you fucker—!”

With quick movement that you could barely decipher, Flash suddenly has a knife in his nape. Blood ebbs from his neck as he stands in place, gurgling and choking on his own blood.

Miranda's piercing scream echoes around the clearing as birds caw in the distance. “Oh god!”

The figure takes his knife back with an ugly squelch of muscle and blood. Crimson spraying all over his mask as he holds the knife in his gloved hand. He tilts his head, the sharp end of the knife pointed directly at you, to then slowly go down from your neck to your hand that's gripping your own knife.

Miranda shakes you, “he wants to fight you, Y/N!”

“Hm, I don't think so.” You mutter under your breath while gazing at him. “Why should I?” You glance at her horrified face. “You saw what happened to Flash, I can't fight him.”

“P–please.” She says in between sobs, “do this for us.” You roll your eyes and she shakes your arm. “I never wanted to hurt you, paste.” She pleads, the nickname earning a scoff from you.

“You once slashed my tires just because I was paired with your ex for a project.” You say calmly, façade now fully broken, moth freely flying over you. “I almost crashed into a tree, Miranda.”

The figure steps closer, knife now at his side, waiting for your next move.

“T–that was just a joke! We were just—!” Her words are suddenly cut off by your knife stabbing at her jugular. She gasps as blood sprays at your smiling face, her body falling, hand stuck around your knife, you finally turn towards the masked man.

“And here I thought you'd leave me alone with them.”

He peels off his mask, revealing Hobie's awestruck expression. Blinking, chuckles slowly escape his pierced lips. “Holy shit, love. You're brilliant.”

You shrug, smile never leaving your lips. “You should've said something, I would've helped.” You say, reaching for your knife back, flicking all the blood away before tucking it inside your boot. “

“I thought…” he crosses the distance, hand reaching for your own, he loops his pinky around your own, gently tugging you into his bloodied form. “... never mind that now.” you can hear sirens echo from somewhere. “You still up for that ride?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @the-shroom-garden

131 notes · View notes

jude5bellingham · 9 months ago

Text

tbt pt.2 ౨ৎ trent alexander-arnold

part one here!

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x f!reader

summary: part two of throwback thursday, reader is lfc's photographer but people start thinking there is something off when she is exclusively posting tbts

notes: hope u guys enjoy :3

yourusername

tagged trentarnold66 and liverpoolfc

liked by trentarnold66, liverpoolfc and 102,549 others

yourusername my first heartbreak tbh.. #tbt

view all 80,435 comments

trentarnold66 mine too

yourusername wrong actually! your first heartbreak was when i laughed in your face when you asked me out cause i thought you had to have been joking

ibrahimakonate oh wow😂😂

user1 trent getting aired out on a tbt of 2021/2022 ucl finals post of yn's is crazy😭😭

trentarnold66 it was just a misunderstanding 😒 we are literally married now anyways

virgilvandijk no need to open old wounds

yourusername sorry skip im running out of content

mosalah you will have more if you comeback!

yourusername soon mo!!!!

andyrobertson94 comeback to work soon

yourusername hopefully

user2 yn isnt at work???

user3 we miss you yn

user4 real lads' first heartbreaks💔

yourusername

tagged trentarnold66 and england

liked by trentarnold66, england and 100,878 others

yourusername throwback to when my (now) ex-boyfriend made me pay stupidly expensive tickets to see him #tbt

view all 60,090 comments

trentarnold66 did not

yourusername did too

joegomez5 you two are such children

yourusername 🤫

trentarnold66 stop calling me your exboyfriend

yourusername you literally are mate

andyrobertson94 your exboyfriend sounds terrible

yourusername he didn't even score! why'd i spend all that money!

ibrahimakonate 😂😂😂

szoboszlaidominik what's your exboyfriends @

yourusername oh hell no....

user5 her calling trent (her husband) her ex boyfriend 😭😭😭

user6 they're literally so funny 😭😭😭

yourusername

tagged trentarnold66 and england

liked by trentarnold66, england and 120,432 others

yourusername shouting out this young lad from liverpool #tbt

view all 80,003 comments

trentarnold66 ...

andyrobertson94 up and coming young scouse lad

curtisjr young lad just trying to make it

judebellingham that is broski 🙏

user7 i wonder how trent felt seeing these pictures 😭😭

user8 has anyone else noticed she's only been posting tbts?? i know she does normally but she hasn't uploaded a not tbt in a while..

user9 she might just be going through old content!! she has a habit of uploading extra pics from old tbts later when she feels like she needs to post more!!

yourusername

tagged trentarnold66

liked by trentarnold66, liverpoolfc and 109,883 others

yourusername even with setbacks, just know YNWA ❤️‍🩹 #tbt

view all 65,556 comments

trentarnold66 i miss you at the games

yourusername alright pack it up loverboy

yourusername i miss you at games too... GET BACK ON THE PITCH!

judebellingham mate can never catch a break huh

yourusername nope!

user109 WE also miss you yn

harvelliott we miss you

❤️ liked by yourusername

liverpoolfc yn YOU need to remember that ynwa ❤️❤️

curtisjr ^^ ❤️

mosalah ^^ ❤️

ibrahimakonate ^^ ❤️

virgilvandijk ^^ ❤️

yourusername okay relax guys i'm going to cry and i'm a real ugly crier...

trentarnold66 @yourusername liar

andyrobertson94 trent's just a sap after all

user10 is yn okay? why did lfc comment that?

user11 did yn leave lfc?

user12 why are they all leaving hearts and saying ynwa?? did yn leave??

user13 i hope everything is alright yn ❤️ YNWA❤️

yourusername

tagged trentarnold66 and england

liked by trentarnold66, england and 100,409 others

yourusername when @england hired me for the season and then i literally just watched him have stronger bonds with men than me but that's ok i guess #tbt

view all 80,867 comments

trentarnold66 i'm not even going to say anything

aaronramsdale you're acting like trent didn't kick me out of the room to spend time with you

yourusername okay don't get dramatic! it wasn't even your bed!

aaronsramsdale 🙁

england 😳

yourusername 😳

judebellingham no photos of trent and i?

yourusername yeah as if i was gonna post my ex-boyfriend's side ting

judebellingham ex-boyfriend 😭

user14 did yn leave lfc for the england nt???

user15 if you left for the england nt, we still love you yn ❤️❤️

yourusername

tagged trentarnold66 and liverpoolfc

yourusername yes i have heard the news, trust me we are all devastated but YNWA klopp and thank you for the memories, especially the ones in the making ❤️❤️❤️ #tbt

user has restricted comments on this post

yourusername

tagged trentarnold66 and andyrobertson94

liked by trentarnold, andyrobertson94 and 101,255 others

yourusername no words can describe how i feel about this friendship but maybe this ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 emoji can! #tbt

view all 90,888 comments

andyrobertson94 love you both❤️❤️ can't wait for your return

trentarnold66 ❤️

szoboszlaidominik that should be me 💔

yourusername leave my ex-boyfriend and his husband alone... homewrecker...

user16 we hope you feel better ❤️❤️ we miss you and klopp

user17 klopp hasnt even left yet

user18 tell that to the hole in my heart

yourusername and trentarnold66

liked by trentarnold66, andyrobertson94 and 150,809 others

yourusername hi everyone! i'm so sorry i did not say anything during these last few months... if i'm honest they were very difficult. I was not myself for the last few months so I took a leave of absence from lfc, that i'm so incredibly grateful for, and i tried to post like usual even though i was running out of photos and energy. Trent's injury, Klopp's announcement, and everything else in this world felt incredibly hard to deal with but even in those times I could always turn to this community to put a smile on my face. I'm so happy to let you all know Trent and I have welcomed a beautiful and healthy son to our family. anyways, long story short, always remember that i love you and that ynwa❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

view all 109,004 comments

andyrobertson94 Proud godfather here!❤️❤️

user229 omg😭😭😭

liverpoolfc congratulations yn! we love you & ynwa❤️

virgilvandijk ❤️

curtisjr new young scouse lad about to become a superstar 💫

judebellingham 🤍

aaronramsdale ❤️

jordanhenderson ❤️❤️

szoboszlaidominik ❤️

ibrahimakonate ❤️

user19 we love you yn❤️❤️

user20 im so glad you put yourself first❤️❤️

yourusername

liked by trentarnold66, andyrobertson94 and 109,899 others

yourusername my pretty boy 🤍🤍

view all 30,990 comments

yourusername trent is there too i guess

andyrobertson94 you know you could've asked me to take a picture of the three of you right

yourusername you don't get it andy

andyrobertson94 🙄

virgilvandijk two very stylish lads in the pics

yourusername it's cause i styled them after you skipp😁

curtisjr didnt know your exboyfriend could dress so well

yourusername he can't without my help 😕😕

user21 sobs... this is so cute😭😭

user22 dilf trent

❤️ liked by yourusername

user23 theyre soo cute together 😭😭

yourusername

tagged trentarnold66 and liverpoolfc

liked by trentarnold66, liverpoolfc and 120,389 others

yourusername some day my kids will know the winner that their father is #tbt

view all 89,343 comments

liverpoolfc they'll watch him win another with their own eyes

❤️ liked by yourusername

andyrobertson94 more importantly, they'll know how big of a winner their godfather is

yourusername honestly... you kind of are the captain of scotland and a member of the great british empire ...

trentarnold66 okay stop agreeing with each other

yourusername no need for jealousy in my comments

user24 KIDS??? AS IN PLURAL????

user25 omg is this a pregnancy announcement 😭😭

user26 ANOTHER ONE??? OMG

user27 UGHHHHH SPILLLLL

yourusername and trentarnold66

liked by trentarnold66, andyrobertson94 and 100,445 others

yourusername i don't think i could even begin to describe how happy and grateful i am, but i will try. i love the family i have created here in liverpool with the help of everyone. you are all family, thank you for the love and support you have always shown me. ❤️❤️

user has restricted comments on this post

412 notes · View notes

cera-writes · 4 months ago

Note

Omg, I love your blog! 👁️👁️✨ I really love how you write for X-MEN characters. Today, I’m requesting a song fic for either Remy or Kurt. I think they would both fit Too Sweet (By Hozier). I’ve been obsessed with this song ever since it came out. Thank you! ✨

A/N: THANK YOU <333 I too, am obsessed with this song lol Pairing: Gambit x F!Reader Tags: songfic, Hozier, fluff, mutual pining

Too Sweet - A Hozier Song-Fic

The insistent chirping of birds filtered through the blinds, a jarring intrusion into Remy LeBeau's slumber. Ten o'clock. Ten o'clock before Remy would ever say a word and none earlier. Unlike him, you were a symphony of pre-dawn energy. Your voice, a melodic counterpoint to the morning symphony, cut through his haze.

"Remy! Rise and shine, sleepyhead! I've already been out on my mile run this morning before the sun rose."

He peeked from beneath the covers, your silhouette bathed in the golden morning light. Even in your active wear, you possessed an ethereal quality. It couldn't be said I'm an early bird, Remy thought, a wry smile playing on his lips. You were the quintessential early riser, a stark contrast to his nocturnal rhythm.

"Don' you jus' wanna wake up, dark as a lake, cher? Smellin' like a bonfire, lost in a haze?" he mumbled, the words tumbling out unbidden. You paused mid-stretch, concern clouding your bright eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" Your worry was a balm to his soul, a secret he wouldn't readily admit. You cared about him, the man who thrived in the shadows, a stark contrast to your rose colored glasses. You were too sweet for him, a melody in his whiskey-soaked symphony of existence.

"Peachy, cher," he lied with a lazy drawl, forcing himself upright. You were right. The allure of being the thief in the night seemed to pale in comparison to experiencing a sunrise with you. He joined you on the cool floor, his movements stiff compared to your effortless grace.

"You know you don't gotta pretend," he propped up softly, voice laced with amusement. A heat crawled up your neck. He saw through you, your carefully constructed facade. Perhaps, it was this very quality that drew you to him like a moth to a flame.

As the day unfolded, the contrast between you became even more apparent. Your afternoon was spent enveloped in the warm aroma of chocolate and sugar, your hands weaving magic with the ingredients. Remy, however, sharpened his fighting skills with his staff, the rhythmic clang a stark counterpoint to your gentle symphony.

You offered him a hot cup of joe, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I remembered you liked your coffee black. Oh, and I just made cookies. Help yourself to a few."

He chuckled, taking a tentative bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a stark contrast to the life he led. "You're too sweet for de likes of Gambit, cher," he teased, a pull in his chest that wasn't from the charged cards strapped to his thigh.

"What does that make you then?" you countered, a playful comeback escaping your lips. But beneath the surface, Remy saw a flicker – a spark of attraction mirrored in his own gaze.

Later that night, when the moon replaced the sun, casting familiar, cool shadows, he found you on the balcony, gazing at the starlit canvas above. This was his domain, the time he craved.

"Couldn't sleep, cher?" he drawled, leaning against the railing, whiskey in hand as he took a sip from the glass.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. "Just thinking."

He joined you, a comfortable silence settling between them. "Maybe," he started, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant, "maybe we don' have to pretend or play dis lil' game anymore. Maybe we can share de sky for a while."

You turned to him, your eyes twinkling like distant stars. "Maybe we can, Remy."

He leaned closer, the scent of tobacco mingling with the cool night air. In that twilight space between light and dark, he found himself lost in the sweetness of your kiss, a perfect counterpoint to his world of shadows.

#xmen #remy lebeau #x men 97 #gambit #gambit x reader #cera writes #remy lebeau x reader #f!reader

161 notes · View notes

faebaex · 1 year ago

Text

Tangled in Wonderland - Leonotis Leonurus

author note: second poll's winner! also a plant pun for the title, just because (￣▽￣) i feel like Jade would be proud. speaking of, he has a teeny tiny cameo in this fic, simply bc he just fit the situation so well. so far, its been a housewarden clean sweep on the polls, with Azul winning the Octavinelle poll! new poll is up right now, a bonus one this time! who will be the comeback king? go vote if you haven't already! enjoy~

characters: Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader

The library was your turf.

By this point, you were on a first name basis with all of the library ghosts, and you had a fairly good working knowledge of every section of the library, with Ace and Deuce often seeking you out at your usual table to ask you if you had any idea where a certain book would be. Of course, more often than not that meant that they would then sit at your table and you wouldn’t really get any meaningful research done, not with all their squabbling and general freshman catastrophic energy. When Grim tagged along, it was even worse, but at least you could keep an eye on him and make sure he was actually doing the assignments he was supposed to.

Despite all the time you had been spending at the library, you were still no closer to figuring out how to get home. Crowley was nowhere to be found, taking avoiding you to an entirely new level. The books and reading list that Riddle had provided you, however, had been very insightful. His recommendations were much easier to read than the previous tomes you had been torturing yourself with, and you were starting to see connections between theories, it becoming easier for you to source further reading without having to consult Riddle first. So yes, the library was your turf.

The botanical garden, however, was not. And you were well aware of who it belonged to.

Leona Kingscholar was one of the students at the top of your list to avoid. And considering his personality, the feeling was likely mutual. So you made a conscious effort to avoid places where you could run into him, not wanting to tempt the already volatile nature of fate to thrust you into his trajectory. You were even doing well avoiding conflict with the Savanaclaw students, especially considering they were always looking for a fight and the school’s only magicless student was definitely high on their lists to torment. But unfortunately for you, you couldn’t always avoid some of Leona’s favourite haunts, because what Crewel wants, Crewel gets.

You grumbled to yourself as you picked through the botanical gardens, a basket on one arm and a list in the other. Crewel had kindly brought it to your attention with a lash of his pointer that good ol’ Grim had been using ingredients from the potionology inventory for his lab work and assignments instead of collecting his own before class, as student handbook guidelines demand. With Grim nowhere to be seen and you being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Crewel had handed you an extensive list of every ingredient that Grim had used since the two of you became a joint student, and ordered you to the botanical garden to retrieve every single one of them, or face the consequences. And with Crewel swinging that pointer around, you didn’t wait around to find out what those consequences would be.

Being so unfamiliar with the botanical gardens made this job harder, and the sheer size of the list had you running around in circles, picking one ingredient only to realise that you needed something similar that was back the way you had just came. It was incredibly frustrating, and you found yourself huffing under your breath as you traipsed around the botanical garden. To make matters worse, you had to keep yourself alert, lest there be a certain lion’s tail draped carelessly on the pavestone.

You were well aware that in the game, the poor main character had accidentally stepped on a certain stroppy lion’s tail, and he had retaliated by threatening to knock their teeth out. You’d rather not find yourself in the same situation. You’d briefly considered moving his tail out of the way with a stick or something, but decided that Leona was hardly worth the effort and would likely get offended at you poking at him either way, so instead you had to dutifully watch your feet as you continued on with your laborious task.

You had been hunting for ingredients for about an hour and a half by now, and clubs were starting to wrap up their activities and head back to their dorms. You, however, still had half of your list to go, so there was no such reprieve waiting for you. You wondered if you would be able to drop the basket back to the potionology lab with your half-completed list and promise Crewel that you’d finish the job tomorrow. Surely he wasn’t willing to wait around for you to find all these ingredients? If there was any professor at Night Raven College who you expected to have evening plans, it would be Crewel.

As you pondered your next course of action, you caught a flash of teal out of the corner of your eye. Walking towards you down the pathway was Jade Leech, and you fought the urge to do something stupid like show weakness by tensing or throwing yourself into the bushes. With his usual contrived smile affixed to his face, Jade eyed you in a way that really did make you feel like a shrimp, suddenly giving you a whole new understanding as to why his twin had dubbed the main character with such a pet name. Him being here was an oversight on your part, clearly you had thought that Leona was the botanical garden’s biggest threat, not even factoring in that Jade would use this place to fawn over his mushrooms. Thankfully he didn’t stop, passing you with an elegant stride that you could only appreciate, considering he had only been on legs for two years.

“Good day, prefect. Lovely weather we are having.” Jade greeted as he passed you, with you only responding with a small, tight-lipped smile back. No sooner had his footsteps faded away did the heavens decide to open up, a surprised cry erupting from your lips as you quickly found yourself becoming drenched, the sprinklers dousing the entire area and you in water. That could not have been a coincidence.

The sprinklers stopped as quickly as they had started, but by that point the damage had already been done, your clothes and hair dripping. The list in your hand was sodden, the ink running and quickly making the contents illegible. You growled in frustration, throwing the soggy list to the floor with a wet thump as you tried to squeeze out your clothes in vain. You were so busy trying to sort yourself out, to scrap back any shred of dignity you could that you almost missed the rustling of bushes next to you. Even if you had, there was no way you’d miss the soaking wet beastman emerging from the foliage, ears flat to his head and tail whipping behind him aggressively.

And he was glaring straight at you. Great.

“You got some nerve, herbivore. You got a death wish?” Leona snarled at you and you found yourself prickling up. “This wasn’t me!” You argued, gesturing to your own dripping form before glaring right back at him, “I might be magicless, but that doesn’t make me stupid! If I was going to set the sprinklers off, I’d make sure I wouldn’t get caught in it.” You huffed, once again trying to squeeze the excess water out of your clothes. Your words seemed to pique some interest in Leona, as he was suddenly all up in your space and sniffing you.

“Hm, you’re right. No magic at all, just wet herbivore.” Leona remarked, scrunching his nose up as he stepped back, as if the smell offended him. “Do you mind? You smell like wet cat.” You said flatly with an unimpressed expression, throwing your basket back over your arm with perhaps a little more force than necessary. You swear you could see an amused glint in Leona’s eye as he stooped down, picking up the soggy list that you’d thrown to the ground just moments earlier. “What’s this?” He enquired, holding the list away from him between his thumb and forefinger as if it was toxic, yet still holding it out of your reach when you tried to swipe it back.

“That is mine.” You said with exasperation, your dignity already running down the drain without Leona making you jump to get your list back, “whatever, its ruined anyway. Have it.” You huffed, resigned to having to go back to Crewel with your metaphorical tail between your legs and plead for a new list. Leona eyed you up for a moment before he stepped towards you again, tugging at the basket on your arm to get a look at the contents before dumping the ruined list into the basket.

“C’mon, prefect,” Leona droned over his shoulder as he started walking up the pathway, “I’ll get you some ingredients. First year ingredients are simple.” He scoffed as he navigated the garden like a seasoned pro, his gait lazy and leaving you no choice but to trail after him with a suspicious expression on your face.

“You’re… Helping me?” You questioned, the corner of your lips downturning warily. The Leona you knew was never helpful, only interested if he had something to gain, usually foisting off any inconveniences to Ruggie. “What’s in it for you?” You asked carefully, watching as he picked some stems from a bush and lob them into your basket, making you sigh as you attempted to tidy up his shoddy packing. Leona’s smile was all fangs as he caught your eyes before continuing along the path, “I’m always in need of another gopher. Having you owe me could come in handy, Ruggie has been nagging me lately and you could be just what I need... Plus, the quicker you’re out of the botanical garden, the more peaceful sleep I’d get without having to listen to your huffing and puffing.”

Ah.

Well, you suppose the original main character was truly onto something when they’d stayed up all night screaming outside Leona’s room in chapter three.

Leona had made short work of finding ingredients, and soon your basket was filled to the brim. “Those are all the common ingredients in first year potions. Any missing ingredients are on you.” Leona drawled as you both walked together towards the exit of the botanical garden, his hands behind his head as he yawned leisurely, “you owe me, prefect.”

“How do you even know what ingredients to look for?” You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you as you both left the garden, about to split off on your own paths as you planned to deliver the basket of ingredients to Crewel, whilst you assumed Leona would head back to his dorm. Leona simply kept walking, and you assumed he’d grown tired of you. But then he paused, looking over his shoulder at you with a smirk that you’d dare to describe as cheeky.

“Because I had to search out ingredients for Crewel in my first year, too.”

Huh. Perhaps Leona wasn’t that bad after all, you thought to yourself as you watched Leona’s retreating back, before setting off yourself to hand the ingredients in to Crewel, praying for fate to grant you some mercy for a change.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x y/n

570 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 11 days ago

Note

What do u think of...Aven, Ratio and Reca w/ a Tomboy s/o?

(If ur requests r open ofc)

HSR Characters with a Tomboy S/O

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dr. Veritas Ratio x Reader, Mr. Reca x Reader, Tomboy!Reader, Romance, Adventure, Playful Banter, Established Relationship, Supportive Relationships

A/N: Requests are still open don't worry, anon! 🫶😇 Idk much about Mr.Reca so forgive me if I did his character wrong.

Aventurine

Aventurine admires your confidence and tomboyish style, finding your energy invigorating. You two challenge each other in playful banter and encourage one another to step out of your comfort zones.

Your dates often involve spontaneous adventures, like exploring the vibrant nightlife or going to underground gaming tournaments, where Aventurine showcases his skills.

Aventurine is incredibly supportive of your dreams and ambitions, always ready to lend a hand when you're feeling down or uncertain about your goals.

Aventurine's past struggles with trust make him wary of opening up completely, but your sincerity helps him gradually lower his defenses.

You two bond over your mutual love for gambling, often engaging in friendly competitions, whether at a casino or a video game tournament.

Aventurine has a natural instinct to protect you, which can lead to moments of tension, especially when he worries about your reckless behavior.

Dr. Veritas Ratio

Ratio appreciates your independent thought and ability to challenge him intellectually, often engaging in debates that leave both of you invigorated.

He takes on a mentor role, guiding you in academic pursuits or creative endeavors while you teach him to let loose and embrace life outside academia.

Your contrasting personalities create a unique dynamic; Ratio’s seriousness and high standards balance your carefree, spontaneous nature.

Ratio’s stern demeanor softens in private, revealing a more vulnerable side as he shares personal stories and passions, creating deeper intimacy between you two.

You might collaborate on artistic projects, blending Ratio’s intellectual creativity with your raw, authentic style, creating something genuinely original and meaningful.

Your relationship thrives on mutual respect, as you two recognize the strength in each other’s differences, pushing one another to grow.

Mr. Reca

Mr. Reca’s cynical outlook is often challenged by your optimism, leading to interesting conversations where he finds himself appreciating your perspective on life.

You inspire Mr. Reca to explore new storytelling techniques, encouraging him to break away from traditional filmmaking and experiment with new narratives.

Your interactions often involve lighthearted teasing, with Mr. Reca’s sarcasm and your witty comebacks creating a fun, dynamic relationship.

As a Memokeeper, he shares his memories with you, allowing for moments of vulnerability and connection, bridging the gap between his cynicism and your earnestness.

You become a sounding board for his frustrations about the film industry, helping him navigate his feelings and inspiring him to pursue more authentic projects.

Mr. Reca surprises you with adventurous outings to unconventional places, pushing you out of your comfort zones, which leads to memorable moments and deeper connections.

115 notes · View notes

smoooothoperator · 3 months ago

Text

What Was I Made For?

16: Slow It Down

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers (👀)

Warnings: imposter syndrome, someone you loved made a little comeback

a/n: HELLO!!!!! How is everyone going??? I don't know if this is a good chapter, i kinda feel that it's a filler one, but I needed to write it and post it to take this out and continue with the story

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

Masterlist

previous part | next part

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Charles Leclerc is a good lover. He knows how to soothe my worries, taking care of me in ways that make me feel cherished. At night, he wraps his arms around me, his hands warm against my belly. His soft kisses trail along my skin, each one a tender reminder of his love. As he holds me close, whispering sweet nothings, I feel a deep connection that goes beyond the physical.

He shows me every minute of the day what our future can look like.

And still, my mind was playing me tricks.

The day we announced the pregnancy, the internet went crazy. Not only because of the pregnancy itself, but because of what it meant: my retirement. None of us wanted to see our socials, deciding to erase the apps from our phones and focus on the present, focus on the last days he had to spend here before he had to leave to get ready for the new season. We barely got out of the property, not going to the village in case more paparazzi were around to take pictures of us.

"Are you sure you don’t want to come?" he murmured, lying next to me and resting his head near my belly. "The hotel's got a pretty nice spa. You could treat yourself all day."

“I know, I know…” I sighed, brushing his hair. “It's just… I hate going to the snow”

“Oh? Why?” he frowned, looking up at me, rubbing my belly softly.

“You don't remember?” I asked, surprised.

“No? What happened?” he frowned, sitting on the bed next to me, moving to wrap his arms around me.

“O-oh” I smile weakly, taking a deep breath. “In my second year in Haas, Mick and I decided to go to a training camp in the snow. Everything was going fine until one day our trainers suggested we take a walk outside. And those stupid ones apparently didn't know how to read maps, nor the weather radar. Well, they made us get lost and we were caught in the middle of a snow storm. We were out all night, frozen because of the snow. I had a pneumonia for a few days”

“Oh shit” he gasped softly. “I… I didn't know about it. How come you never told me?”

“Because at that time I hated your guts? And I thought you knew it, we were in the news” I laughed. “It was funny, actually. But after that I only go to the snow if I know I'll go just to have fun throwing snowballs and then going back to a safe place”

I nodded, letting go a long sigh and she held.me close to his chest. He rubbed my back softly, and I could hear his heartbeat, going fast.

“Say it” I sighed, rubbing his chest.

“During that time…” he sighed, and I closed my eyes, biting my lip. “You were with Mick when that happened?”

I sighed, swallowing thickly. He remembers… He remembers what I told him the morning after we woke up in that hotel room.

“Yeah” I sighed. “But we never dated. We were only friends with benefits. We…”

“Yeah, I understand” he sighed, nodding. His chin was on top of my head and I could feel the slow movement of his head. “You two were teammates in Formula 2, both in the Ferrari Academy. Spending time together leads to other things”

“Are you jealous?” I teased him, trying to erase the sudden tension that was in the air.

“He knew about my feelings towards you, Dafne” he whispered. “Jealousy is not the world. It would be betrayal, maybe”

“Oh…” I sighed.

“Mick and I share a few things” he sighed, playing with my hair. “I lost my father, and he feels like that too, even if his is not dead. We know what it is to not have our fathers in the garage supporting us. And it made us be friends, somehow. But… Yeah, maybe that's why he distanced himself, cutting ties”

“I'm so sorry, Charles” I mumbled, looking up at him. “I… I never knew. We only did it to erase the tension and stress of the races…”

“Hey, you really don't have to explain it. I understand it, I promise” he smiled weakly, but I just shook my head and cupped his cheeks. “Dafne…”

“It was because of me that you lost a friend” I sighed.

“The past is the past, Daf” he smiled weakly. “Now I have you. And I'm happy with that”

I smiled weakly, leaning closer to him and pressing my lips on his.

There was a little voice in my head, reminding me of everything he has done. A voice that tells me every sad thing, all the times he made me cry. A voice that reminds me that I'm not the only one that he had in his bed. A voice that counted slowly, reviving in my mind all the girls he had brought to the races.

“Remember how he humiliated you at your first win” a voice says. “How he called you a whore in front of everyone. You shouldn't trust him, he ruined you”

I tried to push away that voice, not listen to it. I tried to forget everything, to look at the present and think about the future.

“I have to get my suitcase ready” he groaned, but still kissed me deeply.

“You can do it while I make dinner” I whisper, moving closer to him, sitting on his lap.

“Yeah? What do you have in mind now?” he whispered, holding my hips.

“Taking care of my man” I smiled, feeling the little jump of my heart when I said those words.

“Your man?” he chuckled, looking into my eyes.

“I-I mean… Yeah?” I swallowed thickly. “I… Well, we… We are together, right?”

He smiled and nodded, kissing my lips again, showing me all the feelings he has deeply in his heart.

“Of course we are” he whispered against my lips. “What I wrote in my post was real, Dafne. I always wanted you”

I looked at him with a smile, feeling my heart melt slowly.

But again, that voice creeped into my thoughts, sounding like nails scratching on a chalkboard. I hugged him, hiding my face into his neck before he could even see how my smile got weaker.

“He might say that he always wanted you, but he still had many models in his bed” it said, with an evil smile. “Who knows, maybe he never changed. Maybe he still talks with those girls”

I hugged him tightly, closing my eyes and trying to think about his touch. As I watched Charles, a mix of emotions churned inside me. I wanted to trust him, to believe in the love he professed, especially with our baby on the way. But doubt lingered, like a shadow I couldn't shake. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that we were in this together. For the baby’s sake, I needed to find a way to trust him.

I sighed, pressing soft kisses on his neck, biting his skin softly and hearing him moan softly.

“Of course, mark him. Make sure the girls he brings to his bed know that he is taken” that voice laughed, making me feel shivers. “He's a cheater. A cheater. A cheater”

I pulled away, gasping softly, blinking slowly. Charles looked at me frowning his eyes, holding my hips. He was confused, just like me.

“I… I forgot I had to feed Athena” I said quickly, moving away from his lap and getting out of the bed.

“W-what?” he frowned.

“I had… I have to give Athena a pill” I lied. “I… Yeah”

I swallowed thickly, walking out of the room and calling my cat, somehow praying to be alone for some seconds.

I walked downstairs, standing in the middle of the living room. I took a deep breath, then another, then another.

I have to trust Charles. We were going to start again, we are going to raise a child together. He said he loved me since he was a kid, since the first time he saw me.

“That's not true” the voice smirked. “He's playing with you. Don't trust him”

I took a deep breath, gasping, trying to get away from that spiral of negative thoughts, of that impostor syndrome trying to come back to my mind.

“Dafne?” Charles frowned, making me swallow thickly and turn around slowly. “Love, what's wrong?”

I swallowed thickly, hearing the way he called me, watching his worried eyes scan my body. He walked towards me, placing his hands on my shoulders and moving them to hold my hands, squeezing them softly.

“I…” I sighed, closing my eyes when I felt his hand on my cheek, making me lean on his touch. “I just…”

He sighed, nodding slowly. I swallowed thickly, trying to read his face, his mind.

“Dafne” he sighed, smiling weakly.

“It's just… I want to be ready. I want to be ready to be with you. But I don't know if I am…”

“Oh, love…” he sighed, nodding. “L-look, I… I didn't want to rush things. I told you I was going to wait for you and I was talking seriously”

“I know” I whisper, nodding. “I don't want you to think that I don't trust you. It's…”

“You need to think. Alone” he sighed. “Okay”

“Okay?” I mumble, feeling scared. “W-what do you mean?”

“A week” he smiled weakly, bringing my hands to his lips. “I'll be in the training camp for a week. And you have a week to be alone, to think, to relax, to have time for yourself. It's partly my fault, I was attached to your hip this last month and maybe that's what rushed this situation”

“But…” I mumble. “Charlie…”

“My love” he smiled softly, making my heart melt. “This last month was the best month of my life, and I know we can work as an amazing couple. I love you, I really do. And I know you are working on it and I will wait patiently to hear you say those words too. A week is nothing, right?”

"He'll cheat on you," the voice in my head insisted, relentless and cruel. It echoed with every doubt, every insecurity, each word like a dagger. I tried to silence it, to focus on the love I felt, but the fear lingered.

“Yeah” I sighed.

I bite my lip and hug him tightly, breathing in his scent. His clothes smell like the fabric softener I use on the laundry, his skin smells like the shower gel of my bathroom. He smells like home.

“Help me make my suitcase” he whispered, kissing my neck.

“Hhmm” I hummed softly, closing my eyes and leaning on him. “Sure”

He held my hand tightly, walking upstairs and going to his bedroom, one he barely has been using since he started sleeping in my bed every night.

I sat on the bed, smiling softly when I saw Athena jumping on it to lay next to me. Charles grabbed his suitcase and opened it on the bed, chuckling when my cat jumped inside of it to get comfortable.

I followed Charles with my eyes, watching him fold his clothes and place them in the suitcase. And somehow, that made my chest ache and my eyes water. Something about this made me realize that every week will be like this: watching him pack a suitcase and go to races, while I had to stay here and be pregnant and alone.

“Are you okay?” he frowned, looking at me with worry, probably when he saw the tear that rolled down my cheek. “Dafne, hey…”

“Y-yeah, yeah” I swallowed thickly, rubbing my eyes. “Don't worry”

“Talk to me, come on” he whispered, sitting in front of me and holding my hand.

“No, it's stupid” I sighed, looking down at my belly, rubbing it. “I feel… I feel that my life is going to be like this for the next few months”

“How?” he smiled weakly.

“Watching you make a suitcase to go to the races while I have to stay here” I sighed.

“You can come to the races, Daf” he sighed.

“There will come a point when I'll have to stop” I sighed. “I'll get bigger, my legs and back will hurt, doctors say that is not safe for me or the baby…”

He clenched his jaw and looked at me, placing a hand on my belly and rubbing it softly.

“Our baby will come in June�� he whispered. “And I will be either in Canada or Austria. I… There has to be a way… I want to be in the last months with you, Dafne…”

“Charles…” I sighed holding his hand. “Fred is annoyed enough with us… I can't let you get into more problems because of this. I can't let you lose your job…”

“If he dares to fire me then that's his problem” he laughed. “There are more teams that are dying to have me with them”

“But Ferrari…”

“Ferrari is my dream, yeah” he nodded. “But if they don't respect my family, why do I have to respect them? If Fred gets angry because I ask him for a few weeks to be with my family, then I can tell every media how he acted”

I looked at him, swallowing thickly. How can he be so calm with this? How can he be smiling like this?

“Don't trust him. He will abandon you. He will leave you for a model”

I closed my eyes, biting my lip and taking a deep breath.

I have to stop it, I have to stop that voice full of venom.

Alone, again.

Just me, my cat and the silence.

The day Charles left, he woke me up with kisses all over my body, whispered sweet words in my ear and my belly, promising to come back.

That morning, I saw him leave with my car, letting me keep his big car in case I needed it for other things.

That was three days ago. Three days I spent alone in the house, playing the piano, walking around the field, observing my own belly moving slightly with soft kicks and recording it.

Everytime I stand in front of a mirror I look at myself, scanning my body with my eyes, taking mental notes of how much it has changed. How much my breasts grew, how my belly is getting round, how swallowed my ankles look.

Charles keeps saying I'm the most beautiful woman he ever saw in his life.

“How many girls might have heard the same? He's prince charming, he flirts with all of them with sweet words”

I closed my eyes tightly, groaning.

At this point, I'm going crazy, paranoid.

A week. A week to think. To be alone. Literally alone.

My sisters listened to me, and with my recommendation, they found a place in the F1 Academy, ready to help young female promises of the sport. And now, thanks to that, they are busy working and getting ready for the upcoming season.

My parents, both of them working. My dad, traveling around the world thanks to his career as a pianist, and my mom working as a CEO in Monaco.

Sometimes I asked myself how my life would have been if I followed their steps, if my sisters and I followed their steps. I could have been a musician like my dad, since he always said that I had the talent for it. And my sisters, if they didn't follow me into my career, would have been working with my mom.

But now the one that is jobless is me, the one that inspired them to study something that could help me. The one that changed the path of our lives.

“Stupid. Stupid Dafne”

The basement of the house was warm, thanks to the sun that lights the living room. I looked at the kitchen, smiling softly when I fixed my eyes into the pictures that decorated the fridge, the first scanner we have of our baby, and the envelope that keeps the gender.

We didn't talk about a gender reveal again. He said he was going to talk with his brothers and his mom, but never talked about when we could make it.

“He doesn't want to do it, idiot”

“Stop” I groaned.

I heard her laugh. That laugh, my laugh. That laugh from when I didn't know I was pregnant. When I was happy, when I was untouchable.

I need to breathe. I need to get out of this house.

I had my breakfast out of the house, sitting on the couch and looking at the landscape, bringing memories into my mind.

I was happy back then, without worries, without trust issues. I knew what I wanted and how I wanted it. I didn't have to worry about guys, about dating someone, about him being loyal or not.

I was free. Free to do whatever I wanted.

And now, with 27 years, I am everything I didn't want to be. Pregnant, with trust issues, not knowing if I can trust the man I share a bed with.

“How pathetic” the voice, the old me, scoffed. “Look at you. That's what happens when you get your walls down. Stupid Dafne”

I closed my eyes tightly, taking a deep breath, shaking my head trying to avoid that devil in my shoulder.

I sighed, grabbing my phone and looking at all the messages, all the calls.

My friends called a few times. My mom, my sisters and my dad called too. Charles sent a picture of the views from his hotel room.

Sebastian sent a text.

“Everything would have been better if you stayed with him” she scoffed. “Sebastian was loyal, he never cheated. He even said he would buy a house with you. He would have done more things than Charles”

I swallowed thickly, reading the texts, trying to not answer them.

“I am loyal. Loyal to Charles. To the father of my kid” I said to myself, repeating it like a mantra, trying to fight that inner voice.

“Fuck” I gasped when I noticed I was calling him, panicking when he answered.

“Yes, go with him” the voice laughed.

“Dafne?”

“S-Sebastian” I mumbled, swallowing thickly. “I… I didn't want to call, I'm sorry”

“No, it's… It's okay” he sighed. “How are you? I mean… How's the pregnancy going?”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, laying on the couch and rubbing my belly.

“Yeah… Good” I sighed. “We saw the baby the other day for the first time”

“You know the gender?” he asked, making me bite my lip.

“No, no… not yet”

“Oh, okay” he sighed.

“Seb…” I whisper. “I… God, I don't even know why I'm calling you. I'm going crazy”

“Why? Hey, talk to me” he sighed.

“It's just… I'm trying” I sighed. “This month he has been staying in my house, and at the start I only wanted to put a pillow on his face while he was sleeping. But now…”

“Now you are giving up” he sighed. “Look… When he came to the hospital the day you had the crash, he looked really bad. He was panicking, Dafne. He was so scared of losing you and he was ready to fight whoever took you out of the race. He probably did it before going to the hospital”

“He wouldn't do that…” I sighed.

“He would” he laughed. “He would do anything to have your attention. God, he was even ready to fight me because I didn't let him get in your room! That man is head over heels for you, so what's the problem?”

“The problem is that I have this annoying voice that keeps repeating to me that he will cheat” I whispered. “That he won't be loyal, that he's just playing to keep me out of Ferrari”

“Did he do something to make you think that?”

“N-no… I guess” I sighed.

“Then? That's the imposter syndrome, Dafne” he said. “You can't accept your own happiness, even if it's with someone that hurt you? That man loves you. Just… Trust him. Trust Charles”

“Im trying” I sighed.

“Look, Dafne. I really appreciate you. You have been someone I cared for so much and for a moment I saw a chance for us. But he is your endgame. He always was” he sighed. “You two are meant to be together, no matter how many times you argue or fight. You two will find a way to be together”

“Seb…”

“Just trust him” he sighed. “Let your heart work for once. Give your heart the control of your decisions and stop making your brain work. I'm sure everything will be okay”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and feeling little tears.

“I don't regret meeting you” I whisper. “I don't regret the time I had with you…”

“Me neither, Dafne. But he is what you need” he said, making my heart break a little. “I wish you everything good. Goodbye, Dafne”

I closed my eyes hearing the beeping, biting my lip.

Why can't I enjoy the present? Why is the past torturing me?

The day was warm. February started with a sunny day and birds flying around.

Today Charles was coming back home.

After some days of internal battle, I called him, trying to explain to him how I was feeling, trying to put words to my thoughts, opening my heart for him.

“I just… I'm so tired” I smiled weakly, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to fall. “You are giving me all that love, all that time and space… And the only thing I'm thinking about is if this is temporal. There's like a voice in my head making me doubt every move you made, making me remember everything you did to me”

“You know I never wanted to…” he sighed, and I could see the disappointment on his face.

“I’m losing control, Charles” I whisper. “I don't know who I am anymore. And this changes that happened so fast…”

“It's making you take steps back” he nodded. “Please, don't push me away…”

I looked at him, taking a deep breath. His mind was working, I could tell because he was chewing his lip nervously and sighing.

“I want my life back, Charles” I whispered. “I want my confidence. I'm looking in the mirror and I can't find myself anymore. I'm tired all the time, my feet hurts and my back too”

“My love…” he smiled softly, and again, the way he called me made my heart melt. “You are pregnant. Carrying a baby. Our baby. And I know this is happening right in the best moment of your career, that none of us are ready for this”

“We are not” I sighed, shaking my head.

“But we are working on it” he smiled. “Dafne, you are a strong woman. The strongest I ever met. You never let anyone step on you, what changed now?”

“That I'm letting my guard down, Charles” I sighed. “That the woman that loved to tease everyone, to joke and play was just a mask”

“But the little girl I fell in love with wasn't like that” he said. “The little girl was honest, and passionate about what she loved. She never gave up when something didn't work how she wanted”

“Well, I can't find her anymore” I whispered. “I feel that I'm drowning. And I'm so pathetic, because I started to feel this way right when we were okay, kinda. I let you lead me through this new life and now that I'm alone I feel that I'm going to lose control of everything”

“Dafne, take a breath, hm?” he smiled weakly, taking a deep breath. He laid his back on the head board, with a pillow on his back. “Breathe with me”

“I'm trying…” I sighed, closing my eyes.

“I'm going to tell you what we are going to do next, okay?” he said softly. “Tomorrow morning I'm leaving the camp. I'll go to Monaco because I want to cut my hair and my mom will do it. After that I'm going to go by plane to the nearest airport from the village”

“What about my car?” I smiled weakly.

“Your car looks so good near my car” he chuckled softly. “So in that way you can try my new car and come to pick me up to the airport”

“Charles…” I sighed, shaking my head.

“Let me talk, silly” he laughed. “Anyway, what I was saying… Ah, yeah. Well, I want you to go to the village this afternoon with the envelope of the gender”

“What?” I gasped.

“You heard” he smiled, winking at me. “I want you to go to that cake shop you always talked about and give them that paper. And when tomorrow we come back, we are going to stop in the shop and pick up the cake, bring it back home and then have our own gender reveal”

“But what about our families and friends?” I frowned confused.

“We can do that another day” he smiled. “But I can't wait anymore, Dafne. I couldn't stop thinking about that damn yellow envelope in the fridge door, about wanting to know the gender of our child…I even bought baby onesies here, you know? Oh, and one of those things the babies suck”

“A dummy” I smiled.

“Yeah, that” he chuckled. “And a beanie with ears”

“Oh Charles…” I smiled softly.

“Tomorrow we are going to have a date, okay?” he smiled. “So I want you to dress pretty with blue or pink, I'll do the same. You'll come to pick me up and we are going to find out together if we are having a little Charles or a little Dafne, yeah?”

I blushed, and somehow the panic that filled my veins for the last few days started to disappear.

“Idiot” I laughed softly.

“You can have all the fears you want, love” he smiled. “I'll be with you to help you go through them. I'll be the lifesaver you need to not drown”

“I don't deserve you” I sighed.

“No, Dafne. I don't deserve you” he sighed, smiling weakly. “After everything I have done… But I'm trying my best, I'm trying my best to redeem myself”

“You are doing a good job” I nodded.

The pink floral dress still fitted me. Thank God it was elastic on the chest.

Yesterday, after I ended the call with Charles, I did what he asked me, going to the village to leave the envelope to the baker and agreeing to go pick it up the next day.

Charles was landing soon in the Florence airport, only an hour away from the village.

I had everything ready, my bag was ready on top of the table. I cleaned the table from the backyard before getting ready.

Everything was looking good. I was less stressed.

“Athena, I'm leaving!” I said to my cat, hoping she would come before I leave. “Come on, you've been hiding all morning”

When I woke up this morning, I didn't see her. Normally she's sleeping in my bed or in Charles’. But she wasn't there.

“Thena!” I frowned calling her, walking around.

This is not good, the house was suddenly too silent.

“Thena, baby, where are you?” I called her again and again. “It's not funny, I really have to go pick up Charles”

No answer.

“Fine, sleep all you want” I sighed. “I'll come back soon”

I grabbed my bag and the keys of the car, walking out after looking back.

But there was something that wasn't right. Something, call it instinct, was telling me that there was something wrong.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05 @theseerbetweenus @vizzzashley @auawdo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @leptitlu @green-thots @caterinemirandax_ @mid5nights @harrysdimple05

128 notes · View notes

highdefhoetry · 11 months ago

Text

Behind the Blindfold, ch. 4 [Gojo Satoru x reader]

tags: NSFW!!! female reader, jealousy, possessiveness, marking/biting/hickies, penetration (penis in vagina), unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (vaginal), tickle kink, creampie, finger sucking, big dick, aftercare, exhibitionism, hair pulling, doggy style, overstimulation, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, post orgasm torture, size kink, size difference, reader is short, gojo is feral af and a bit sadistic

summary: after a big argument fueled by jealousy, gojo satoru is determined to prove you wrong.

word count: ~4,477

read part 1 here! read part 2 here! read part 3 here!

read on ao3 here!

“Hey! (Y/N), wait!”

Heavy footsteps echo behind you as you rush through the crowded streets of Tokyo. You push your way past unassuming people, simmering quietly as you make your stormy escape. You hear someone calling for you, but the sound of his voice only serves to ignite you further. You pretend not to hear and keep going.

“I said wait, god damn it!”

You dip into a nearby alley and find yourself at a dead end. Shit. The footsteps that had been following behind you for the last several blocks pause, and you sense a foreboding presence behind you. You swing around to glare at Gojo Satoru, who’s staring back at you from behind dark tinted glasses with an uncharacteristically serious expression. He had barely broken a sweat during the chase, despite how quickly he was walking to keep up with you. Your attempt to run away had been futile.

“You’re a real piece of work. You know that?” he rubs the back of his neck, rolling his head backwards from side to side. “How many times am I going to have to chase after you like this?”

“I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

Your voice is sharp and full of venom. He shoves his hands into his pockets, the corners of his lips turned down in displeasure.

“Calm down, firecracker. Why are you so angry all of a sudden?” he whines. “You’re more worked up than usual.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” you snap back furiously.

“Okay, okay,” Gojo puts his hands up in an act of surrender, letting his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose. His radiant blue eyes peer over them, studying you intently. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so pissed off.”

“You know exactly why,” you spit back, trembling a bit from anger. “I should have known you’d pull something like this. I should have never gotten involved with you.”

“Huh? What on earth are you going on about?” annoyance begins to seep through his voice. “What the hell did I do?”

“I fucking saw you, Satoru. With my own two eyes.”

“Saw me what?” His volume increases, and you sense his own patience is wearing thin. “Spit it out already. I’m tired of this damn guessing game.”

“You were flirting with her! Right in front of me!” the tears you had been forcing back finally break through. You feel a few of them drip onto your burning cheeks and quickly wipe them dry. Your entire body feels hot. You hadn’t realized how agitated you had become. How he always managed to get under your skin was beyond you.

“Flirting with who? ” he pauses for a moment, tilting his head to the side with brows furrowed. “...Hold on a second. You mean the barista?”

“Yes,” you hiss. “I saw you take her number.”

You shoot daggers at his perfect face while he gawks at you, taking a moment to process your words. Then, his frown slowly starts to fade. A slow smile creeps across his face as he looks back at you with an incredible amount of satisfaction, chucking quietly in that low baritone of his.

That goddamn smile. It made it almost impossible for you to cling onto the anger.

Almost.

“Ah. I see what’s going on.”

He closes in on you, taking advantage of the fact that you’re up against the wall with nowhere else to run.

“You’re jealous.”

Lacking the energy to come up with a comeback, you simply cross your arms and scowl. He lets out a bitter laugh, shakes his head a little.

“Well, I can’t help that I’m ridiculously good looking and charming. It’s not something I can control,” he says, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “But she’s not my type at all. I just accepted it to be polite. You know, because somebody is always on my ass about being nice to people?”

You scoff angrily, but a few seconds later, he pulls you into his embrace. He wraps his arms around your back, pulls you into his chest. It’s such a sweet gesture. You don’t have the heart to push him away.

“You don’t need to get all grumpy about it,” his velvet baritone melts in your ear, his breath tickles your skin. “I told you, you’re the only one I’m interested in right now. That’s why I asked you out on this date, no?”

He takes your chin in one of his big hands, then pulls your face up, forcing you to return his gaze.

“Have a little more faith in me. How many times do I have to say that I only want you?”

He leans down and plants a kiss on your lips, twirling his tongue with yours. You close your eyes, allowing the last tears you’d been suppressing to drip onto your cheeks. He catches them in his thumbs and wipes them away. You’re not fighting him, but still find it difficult to get into it. He senses your hesitation and pulls away.

“You still don’t trust me,” he furrows his brows again, looking a bit forlorn.

A tinge of remorse stings your heart, but you remain silent. He sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets once more before backing away. He looks towards the sky as if contemplating something, pondering silently for a few moments, then turns back towards you with a stoic expression.

“You know, I’m a patient guy, (Y/N),” he finally speaks. His tone is darker, more embittered. “But even I have my limits.”

He narrows his eyes to glare at you intensely. The sight of him barely containing his unbridled frustration fills you with both fear and excitement. Your heart skips several beats; you recognize that look. You knew what this meant.

Those wild, insatiable eyes.

The way he’s purposely leering over you, a quiet reminder of your height difference.

He could ravage you as he pleased, take you whenever he wanted, as he’d done many times before.

And he was about to do it again.

Still at a loss of words, all you manage to do is stare back at him and watch as the sweet Gojo you’ve come to know becomes something sinister.

“What do I gotta do to prove myself, huh?” he towers over you as your back presses against the wall with that same crazed look in his eyes he had whenever he was about to take something, or someone, down. “Do I have to grovel at your feet? Kiss the ground you walk on? Tear my skin off so you can see me bleed for you?”

He slams his hand on the concrete wall beside your head and stares into your soul, locking those stunning baby blues with yours.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

You’d seen this side of him only once or twice, when the two of you were exorcizing a particularly difficult curse during one of your assignments. It was hard enough back then to focus on combat while you watched his fingers work their magic, curling and twisting as he used his jujutsu technique, reminding you of how skilled he was with his hands and how good they felt knuckle deep inside of you. His hair had been wild and unkempt as it flowed around his head. His eyes were fierce and untamed. His smile was wide and full of malice. He snickered as he worked, full of twisted pleasure as he tore the curse apart.

And now, his attention was solely on you.

“Maybe I’ve been too nice. Maybe I need to be a real bad guy for you to finally understand.”

Before you have a chance to respond, you feel one of his big hands wrap around your neck, holding you tightly in place. His grip is firm, but not painful. Your breath becomes shallow and frantic, and there’s nowhere to look but up. Your eyes meet his and his hands start to roam, slipping between your thighs to feel the warmth between them. His fingers touch your wet mound, then start to massage your swollen hood. He grins menacingly and lets out another dark chuckle.

“You like that, baby? You want me to be mean? You’re already soaking wet.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip, admiring its softness. You part your lips, inviting him inside, and he takes advantage of this invitation by shoving his thumb into your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, marveling at the taste and feel. It’s clean, soft, and a bit chapped from the dry air. Your mouth moves forward and backwards, reminding him of the talents of your tongue. His grin grows bigger, stretching his beautiful pink lips across his face.

When he can’t wait any longer, he pulls out his thumb and picks you up in a smooth, seamless fashion. He grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you into the air, pushing your back up against the alley wall while holding your legs at both sides of his waist. It happens so fast that you don’t have time to protest, to claim that you’re too heavy or that it’s too embarrassing. It’s like he’s carrying a basket of feathers; you’re practically weightless to him. Your legs dangle in midair for a second until they wrap around his waist as his thick, strong hands rest on your ass, cradling each cheek in his wide palms. There was no sign of strain or discomfort in his expression. Only an insatiable hunger, one that only you could feed.

God. He was so fucking hot.

“You want me to fuck you in front of her?” he growls into your ear in between the frantic neck kisses he’s peppering over your skin. “I’ll bring you back there right fucking now. I’ll show her how badly I want you.”

His mouth hungrily consumes you, his lips press themselves against every inch of your face. You’re caught between breathy gasps, sultry moans, and half-giggles. The sensations almost overwhelm you.

Your hand sneaks around to the back of his head and grips it tightly. His teeth sink into your neck, causing you to cry out and dig your nails in his skin. They wander upwards, scratching and clawing his buzzed undercut, and once again you are blessed with the sound of his sweet moans.

“Tell me who you belong to,” you demand, grabbing fistfuls of his silk hair, drunk off the beautiful, desperate noises he’s making.

“You,” he grunts while humping against your mound. He’s rock hard; it won’t be much longer until he forces it inside you once more.

“Say it louder.”

“You. I belong to you.”

“That’s right,” You cup his face, pull him in towards you until his lips meet yours. You whisper loaded threats in between each stolen kiss.

“You’re mine. All mine. I’ll fucking kill anyone who comes near you.”

It’s intense. Even you frighten yourself a bit as you voice your internal thoughts. But this is what Gojo Satoru has done to you.

“You’re scary, (Y/N),” he teases, laughing a little. “But it’s really fucking hot.”

You are starting to grow tired of words. Feeling brave, you run both hands through his hair, then yank it softly as you pull his head to one side. There’s a momentary look of shock on his face, but his confident grin quickly returns.

“Taking charge now?” he chirps.

You lean forward and whisper in his ear, mimicking all the times he’d done the same to you.

“I want the whole world to know you’re mine.”

It’s subtle, but you see him shudder as your words wash over him.

You begin to trail a path of kisses from his lips to his neck. Once you reach the smooth, blemish-free skin, you begin to suck, lick and bite ever so gently. He makes a sudden noise that’s shockingly high pitched before letting out a long moan. You hear his voice shudder as you do it again, alternating between tender kisses and aggressive bites. Each time you pull away, you look at his pale skin and see another red mark in the shape of your lips and teeth. But the other side looks bare. You gently pull his head to the left, allowing you access to the untouched. Your lips meet his skin once more, your teeth leave indents as you nibble and suck.

The sounds coming out of his mouth are heavenly. Like a chorus of angels warbling in the air. His voice flutters with every kiss, every bite, every new mark left that claims him as your own. His beautiful blue eyes roll back in his head as he makes sweet, fluttery noises, just for you.

“(Y/N)...” he murmurs, barely able to form coherent words. There was something oddly satisfying about seeing a grown man like him turn to putty in your hands. The greatest sorcerer in the world, brought down by neck kisses and hickies. And you were the only one who could bring him here.

You lose track of how many times you mark him, but when you’re finished, you trace each one with the tip of your finger. Admiring your work. Your marking has left him in a dream-like state; the only thing that comes out of his mouth is an airy, bubbly giggle. His skin quivers as your fingers trail across his neck. He’s just as sensitive as you are, if not more.

Your lips press against his, reawakening his desire. His hands grope your thighs. His fingers press deep into your skin, wanting to leave their own mark on you.

He can’t wait any longer. He sets you down, back on your feet. Wobbly hands grab your panties and yank them down your thighs. The hem of your skirt rides up, and you feel a rush of cool air between your legs. You suddenly remember you’re in public; your eyes dart around to see if any passersby are peeping at your lewd act. He notices this and laughs.

“Oh, are you feeling shy now?” he derides. “I forgot. You like your privacy.”

You start to talk back, but your surroundings change in an instant, and once again you find yourself in a totally new space far from the dirty, rancid alley. Gojo and his goddamn cursed technique. He just had to show it off whenever he had the chance.

You briefly glance around, and after a few seconds it dawns on you that you’re at his place. You’d only been there once or twice, but you recognize the smell of expensive cologne and the piles of black clothes scattered around the floor. The essence of Gojo Satoru.

He carries you to the couch and plops you down, then climbs on top to straddle you. He seizes your wrists, holds them above your head, then uses his free hand to poke and prod at your sides. It happens so fast, you have no time to prepare yourself for the electrifying sensations that shock your nerves. You scream, you laugh, you thrash around wildly as he torments your sensitive body more than ever before. All while cackling maniacally like some sort of evil villain.

“Satoru, stahahap!” is all you can manage to spit out.

“What’s the matter? You like this, don’t you?” he taunts, tickling you even harder. “I’m just getting you warmed up, sweetheart.”

“Stop, it’s too much! I can’t take it!”

“That’s right, baby. Beg for me.”

You feel like you’re going insane. He’s tickling you to madness, digging into your worst spots and tweaking your soft skin like he’s playing an instrument. Your laughter starts to sound like a hysterical melody. You’re struggling like hell to get out of his grasp, but the tickling has weakened you and eventually you resign yourself to laughing. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and he watches your futile attempts to escape with sadistic glee. You start to babble, pleading him for mercy, but all that earns you is more wicked laughter.

“You cryin’?” he taunts, wiping a tear off your cheek and licking it. “How cute. No mercy for you, though. I’m a bad guy now, remember?”

A moment of respite. You grovel, appeal to his sense of mercy, but in the end he ignores you and resumes his torment. His fingers dance across your ribs, following your body’s movements as you twist and turn. At this point you can’t even form words, and despite how much you’re shrieking and giggling it still seems like he’s laughing even harder.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It could have been a few minutes, or half an hour, or longer, but he finally lets up, allows you to catch your breath. You take deep gulps of air, still giggling lightly when you feel his hand rest on your stomach.

The momentary respite ends too soon. He slides his hands down your waist, rests them on your hips, taps them with his long fingers. The feeling makes you jolt, and the sight of you quivering under his touch amuses him further. He chuckles again, staring down at you with a crazed, feral look in his eyes. Your heart is thumping so loudly you wonder if he can hear it.

“Turn around.”

It isn’t a request. He doesn’t give you any time to decide whether or not you’re going to be obedient or defiant, quickly flipping you over so he can gain access to what he wants most. He grabs your hips again and lifts them into the air, forcing your face into the suede cushions on the sofa. You feel his soft lips press against your cheeks as they plant sloppy, wet kisses and love bites across the seldom-touched skin. You cry out softly, overcome with pleasure and just the right amount of pain. Out of nowhere, his tongue flicks your taint, making you squeal and buck your hips forward. You had not been expecting that. He simply pulls your hips back, slamming them against his own before licking the hyper-sensitive area once more. All while stroking his fingers up and down your sides, putting you in overstimulation hell. The sounds coming out of your mouth are inhumane.

Several minutes pass, and he finally decides he’s had his fill of your suffering. At least for now. Ready to be inside you, he yanks down his pants and boxers, throws them off to the side. They must have knocked over a lamp or something, because you hear a loud crash on the other end of the room. You turn your head to look, but don’t get the chance to see what it was. His hand pushes down on your neck, forcing you down once more while the tip of his cock pushes itself against your hole. You cry out when he shoves it inside. No matter how wet you are, his dick will always take you by surprise by its sheer size and girth. It feels so fucking good. It’s driving you insane.

The palm of his hand moves from the back of your neck to the lower part of your scalp. He makes a fist and pulls, softly at first to ease you into it, then with a bit more force. It forces your head back as he pumps his dick inside you over and over. It’s different from how he’s fucked you before. This time, there is no slow buildup or loving thrusts. Just him slamming his cock deep in your hole with rapid, deep strokes.

His other hand is gripping your waist, gently squeezing it every now and then to mess with you. Each time you feel that tickly feeling, your hole clenches around his member, coaxing more feral grunts and moans from his beautiful lips. Your back arches, your ass cheeks slam against his hips, your voice grows hoarse from the guttural moans emerging from your throat.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he croons. “Your perfect little hole is mine.”

“Satoru! Aaaah…”

“You want me to fill you up, sweetheart?”

“God, yes! Yes! ”

A few more strokes, shoved deep inside of you, and finally he comes. And he comes hard . He lets out one more loud groan before busting a load inside you, filling you once more with warmth and satisfaction. His cock twitches as it rests inside you; his moans grow softer, quieter. He stays there for a while, and you relish the full feeling his giant cock provides. When he finally pulls out after several seconds of cockwarming, you feel his seed dripping out. It soaks the cushions below.

But he’s not done with you yet. He manhandles you again, turning you over so you’re on your back and your legs are wide open, giving him full access to your cunt. His head dips down. His lips press against your throbbing clit. His tongue dances and twirls around, then his mouth consumes you completely. You’re already soaking wet, full of his cum and yours, and the intensity of his tongue movements are pushing you over the edge. You grip the fabric of the couch and arch your back, losing yourself in the ecstasy of his touch.

It takes quite a while for you to reach the edge, but he works you over with steadfast patience. He chuckles as he listens to you whimper and moan, and doesn’t resist when you grab his head and shove his face further down. His expert tongue and soft lips send waves of pleasure through your body, never ceasing even after you climax. Ecstasy courses through your veins. Pleasure vibrates through every nerve ending. You throw back your head and practically scream. You’ve never come this hard before, not with anyone else but him.

He’s not finished. As you’re panting and heaving, he slips one finger into your hole and slowly pumps it back and forth. Still writhing from the earth-shattering climax he just gave you, there’s little you can do but cry in frustrated pleasure. With one curl of his finger, he brings you to another climax, this one much more intense than the last. Your entire body arches upward. Colors and shapes explode in your vision. Your mind is starting to go fuzzy, but he still doesn’t stop. When the second orgasm has finished washing over you, he sticks in another finger and curls it up. Then he does it again, and again, and again…

With sweat plastered across your forehead and skin flushed so deeply it feels aflame, you whisper quiet pleas to your merciless lover.

“Satoru…” you splutter in between haggard breaths. “No more…”

He simply grins at you in response, devouring the sight of you with his voracious six eyes.

Ten long fingers rest on your hips, stroking them lightly. They crawl up your sides, then back down again. They follow your body’s movements while you thrash wildly, laughing and screaming in octaves you never knew you could reach. Every light flutter, every feathery claw feels like an electrical surge on your skin. All those successive orgasms have left you insanely sensitive. It’s the closest thing to torture you’ve ever felt. Gojo watches you with cruel satisfaction, laughs maniacally when you try to beg for respite. It’s unhinged, the way he’s giggling so cutely while making you suffer. Part of you is scared he’ll never stop. Part of you hopes he never will.

Fortunately, he does. After god knows how long he finally lets up, although he keeps his hands on your waist and his eyes focused on you. You can’t imagine how you must look; your eyes are bleary from all the tears he’s forced out, and your hair is strewn wildly about your head from all the struggling and wild movements. Your skin is warm, your throat feels dry. He damn near killed you with this little game of his.

He senses your exhaustion and stands up to grab you something to drink. He’s back in a split second, pressing the glass of cold water against your lips.

“Drink,” he commands, and you obey without protest. You finish the whole cup in a few gulps.

He pushes some of your hair out of your face, strokes your cheeks gently before kissing each one. His lips meet yours, and once you pull away he takes you in his arms and cradles you as you lay against his chest.

“Fuck…” you finally speak once you’ve regained your strength. “You’re a goddamn monster.”

That makes him laugh. He hugs you a little tighter and plants a kiss on your head.

“Are you still upset?"

"Upset about what?"

Oh. Right. You'd forgotten all about that. He smirks victoriously, proud of himself for getting one over on you once more. Asshole. But you don’t have the energy to say much else. Instead, you close your eyes, ready for a fucking nap after all that stimulation, but something stirring on the other side of the room gets your attention. You lift your head up, scanning the place for the source of the sound before your eyes fall on the figure sitting in the corner. The same corner you had heard that crash earlier.

A look of horror crosses your face as the realization hits you.

Someone else was in the room.

And she’d seen the entire thing.

It’s the barista from the coffee shop. The one you had accused. The poor girl gapes back at you both in disbelief and confusion, frozen with panic.

“Satoru!” you shout. He erupts into laughter, finding great amusement in your shock.

“Don’t worry. She’ll probably think it’s some sort of dream or vision,” he says in an attempt to console you. “Anyway, give me juuuust a second…”

He stands up, walks over to the young woman, then places a hand on her shoulder. They both vanish from your sight, and a few seconds later he reappears.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you shout again, earning another chuckle in response.

“I told you I’d fuck you in front of her.”

He hovers over you, his face so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your cheeks.

“Next time, believe me when I tell you how I feel. Then we won’t have to play these silly games.”

You gawk at him for a long time, a million thoughts running through your mind. You want to scold him, tell him off, rip him a new asshole, but god. You’re so damn tired. And you can’t argue when he’s looking at you like this, with his big baby blues full of affection, like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Two big hands cup your cheeks, brushing away the last of your sweat and tears. You close your eyes, and a soft pair of lips kiss your eyelids and forehead. When you open them again, his beautiful face greets you with a gentle smile full of adoration.

Gojo Satoru was a fucking enigma. The more you got to know him, the less you understood. But you were past the point of no return.

As you found yourself lost in those eyes of his once more, you knew there was no going back.

#jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru #minors dni #merry christmas ya filthy animals

312 notes · View notes

knmaskitten · 1 month ago

Text

Attention !!

pairing— Koutaro Bokuto x afab!reader

summary— You watch Bokuto as he plays against Argentina at the Olympic's.

warnings/tags— Afab!fem reader. No use of y/n. Fluff, fluff, fluff. No physical descriptions. Did i say fluff already?

wc— 776 words.

notes— This is my comeback after months so it might be a bit rusty. English is not my first language btw. Enjoy!

You slowly sipped from your juice box as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. It wasn’t even that hot, but you were tense. The roaring crowd around you wasn’t helping either, each scream making you more on edge. Sitting rigidly in your front row seat, you watched the men’s volleyball match. This wasn’t just any ordinary game—Japan was up against a formidable Argentina. But not just any Argentina—Oikawa Tooru’s Argentina.

You knew Oikawa. Everyone did. Well, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but every volleyball fan had at least heard of him. Aoba Johsai’s former captain, renowned for his skill and presence on the court. And there he stood, on the left side, focused and drenched in sweat. He was facing Japan’s U20 team, whose stellar lineup had blown past all your expectations.

Your eyes followed the white ball, catching a glimpse of the Olympic logo printed on it, and a fond smile crept onto your face as you remembered where you were—and more importantly, who you were here for. Your gaze shifted across the court, spotting several familiar faces—after all, these were your boyfriend’s peers. You knew them well.

You held your breath as you saw your boyfriend leap to spike the ball. Ah! A feint! No… it was blocked. You exhaled sharply, closing your eyes and pressing a hand to your chest. Suddenly, a hand rested on your shoulder, causing you to jump and gasp. You turned, frowning slightly.

“Kuro!” You gasped, glaring daggers at him.

“Gosh, relax a little. You’re stiff as a rock. I thought you were going to faint." He raised both eyebrows, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

“I know I might look like a mess, but I’m fine. Really.” You flashed him a toothy grin, which came off more as a grimace.

He chuckled, unconvinced. “You sure about that? ‘Cause it feels like your mind is thinking about everything but the match.” He patted your back gently, nodding towards the court, specifically at Bokuto, whose muscles shone bright through Japan’s uniform. “He’d kill to have all your attention right now.”

You glanced back at Bokuto just as the crowd began chanting his name. His smile was infectious, his energy lifting the entire stadium. Despite your frayed nerves, you joined in the cheers—you owed him that much. Bokuto had always had that magnetic quality—the way he could draw everyone in, making them want to root for him. It was difficult not to feel a pang of envy at how easily he commanded the spotlight.

Bokuto’s turn to serve had arrived. You could see the determination in his eyes—that familiar spark of confidence. He knew he had this. With a quick grin, he launched the ball, and the sharp smack of it hitting the court echoed through the arena. The crowd erupted, and you cupped your hands around your mouth, shouting his name with all the excitement bubbling inside you.

Despite the roaring crowd and the cheering all around him, his eyes found yours. The sounds around you faded into a soft murmur, leaving just you and him in that fleeting moment. He gifted you—only you—that lopsided smile, the kind that warmed your heart and brightened your days. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he winked, knowing full well the effect it would have. It was fleeting, a matter of seconds, but it sent your heart racing. You felt your pulse quicken, your cheeks flush crimson—and knowing he would notice, you smiled back, flushed and jittery.

Around you, girls giggled and squealed, touching their reddened cheeks, eyes sparkling with admiration.

“FOR SURE, that was for me,” a blonde girl gushed to her friend beside her.

“No way! He looked at me,” another girl replied in a feisty tone.

“It was definitely for me!”

You felt a pang of jealousy, but it quickly faded as the match reached its climax. Your focus shifted to the ball. When it came speeding toward Bokuto and he swung his arm, spiking the final blow, you squealed and leaped from your seat in pure joy. They won. The team embraced, cheering, but one figure leaped through the court, heading straight for you.

In an instant, Bokuto was by your side, hugging you tightly and kissing your forehead. He lifted you off your feet and spun you around, his laughter infectious.

“We won! We won!” he exclaimed, holding you close.

Then, his eyes locked onto yours, intense. His thumb brushed over your lips, his breath still uneven from the game. “You know… I just love it when you look at me, only me.”

“Your attention belongs to me.”

Then he kissed you.

Thanks for reading!

check out my masterlist.

56 notes · View notes

buckyispunk · 10 months ago

Text

Falling

Aloha Chapter Three~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N)

read previous parts here!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: The events of Ocean Blue from Bucky's perspective, aka Bucky fights to win you back.

A/N: So so soooo sorry for the longer-than-expected wait everyone! Thank you to all who have been sticking it out with me! I hope this chapter makes up for it! Also - discontinuing tags after this chapter, follow @buckyispunkwrites and turn on notifs!!

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, discussion of unhealthy relationships, slight overstimulation, dom!Bucky, drinking, insecure reader, please lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: 4.6k

“Dude,” Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder, “I’m sure she’ll be out soon, you don’t have to keep staring at the door.”

Bucky reverts his attention to his friends, who are now laughing at his infatuated state. He debates for a second whether or not it’s worth it to think of a clever comeback, but he can’t bring himself to care enough. All Bucky cares about is when he’ll next be able to hear your laugh and watch the way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight. All he cares about right now is being with you.

And that scares Bucky. Absolutely terrifies him. The last time Bucky felt this way about someone, she betrayed every ounce of trust he ever put in her and Bucky had wound up wishing he never even met her in the first place. But even though he’s only known you a few days, something tells Bucky you’re nothing like his ex.

All he manages is a mumbled shut up.

He turns from his friends to go order another round, noting that Sam and Steve’s bottles are almost empty as well. As he leans against the bar waiting for the bartender, he feels a tap on his shoulder.

Bucky grins as he turns around.

“Been waiting for you, do-”

He cuts himself off when he realizes it’s not you he’s talking to, but some blonde woman he doesn’t recognize.

“Sorry,” he shakes his head, “thought you were someone else,” he explains, smile disappearing from his face.

“No worries,” she flases her white teeth at him, “I actually think your friend over there is kinda cute. The one that hasn’t stopped laughing for the last five minutes.”

Bucky sighs, relieved that the woman isn’t hitting on him. He’s never been great at rejecting people.

“Sam’s definitely something,” Bucky tilts his head in amusement.

“I was gonna buy him a drink, what does he like? Couldn’t see his bottle from where I’m sitting.”

“I was just ordering us another round, I’ll just give you his.”

Bucky turns back to the bartender and orders three beers for him and his friends.

“Thanks. Now let’s just hope he doesn’t fall out of his chair again when I give it to him.”

Bucky laughs as he remembers when, a few minutes ago, Sam had fallen to the ground laughing at Steve’s insistence that the Giants are super bowl bound this year. In that moment, as he listened to Sam’s hysterical laughter and Steve’s continued argument, he found himself wondering whether you’d be laughing along with Sam or if you were a die-hard Giants fan, like Steve.

He’s realized there’s so many things he doesn’t know about you: your favorite kind of flower, how you spend your time on rainy Sundays, where you grew up, whether you eat pumpkin or apple pie on Thanksgiving. And this realization has sparked an endless curiosity in Bucky. He has a sudden urge to ask you every possible question he can think of and then memorize each and every answer you tell him until he’s familiarized himself with every nook and cranny of your beautiful mind.

The bartender sets the drinks on the bar, snapping Bucky out of his trance.

“Have at it,” Bucky hands the woman the beer and she heads toward their seats.

Sam and Steve usually have no trouble finding women wherever the three of them go. Occasionally Bucky would get hit on at the bar or at a ball game, usually only indulging them for a minute or two before escaping to the bathroom. He had gone on a few dates over the years, but those only discouraged him.

One time his date had gotten so drunk that Bucky had to practically carry her to her door, where she then invited Bucky inside with clear intentions - an offer which Bucky had politely declined, of course. The girl after that had looked up from her phone no more than five times throughout the night, making halfhearted conversation as she scrolled through social media before thanking Bucky for dinner and ordering an Uber home. Needless to say, Bucky hasn’t had the best dating experiences since he’s been stateside.

Sam, on the otherhand, has a whole folder on his phone filled with different dating apps - Kinder? Tumble? - he doesn’t remember what they’re called. For the life of him, Bucky can’t understand the appeal of swiping through woman after woman and judging them based off of a couple of pictures. Cliches be damned, he needs the butterflies in his stomach that he can’t seem to get rid of when he looks into a girl’s eyes for the first time, testing her name out on his lips, the involuntary grin on his face after making her blush, the excitement of trying to earn her phone number so he can ask her out. He wants a Hallmark-esque story to tell about how he met his future wife.

At that, Bucky’s thoughts reflexively drift back to you and he turns to eye the door again. Seeing no sign of you, he lets out a sigh and heads back toward his friends. He sees the woman all but clinging onto Sam, who doesn’t mind one bit - if the grin on his face is anything to go by. Bucky hands Steve his beer and sits, passing the time discussing football with Steve.

Another twenty or so minutes go by before Bucky gets sick of watching Sam not-so-discreetly exchange dirty talk with the woman. Bucky finishes his beer and stands up to leave once Steve heads to the bathroom. Sam doesn’t see Bucky walk away - his tongue is too deep into the woman’s mouth for him to notice anything else.

Bucky heads toward the hotel, beginning to get worried about you. He gets into the elevator and presses the 5. Bucky doesn’t even notice the way he nervously taps his foot as the elevator climbs to your floor. He makes his way to your room and raises his hand, rapping his knuckles against the thick wood.

No answer.

He waits a few seconds before knocking again, harder.

Bucky feels his heart rate pick up ever so slightly when he calls your name and still doesn’t hear a response. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to call you and stops suddenly, cursing himself under his breath.

He’d never even gotten your phone number.

Fuck.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and his fingers brush aroom key. Your room key.

You had given him your room key earlier.

“Are you in there, doll? If you want me to go away then just say so. Promise I won’t be upset, sweetheart, just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

He knocks one last time and pulls the key card out to unlock the door.

“I’m coming in, doll.”

He cautiously steps into your room, calling out your name again. He does a quick scan of the bedroom and the bathroom before concluding that you’re not there.

As he heads back down to the lobby, he realizes he’s more frantic than he has any right to be. You’re not his to worry about. You’re not his to take care of. You’re not his. But he can figure that out later. Right now, he needs to make sure you’re okay.

He walks through the lobby and the gift shop racking his brain for anything he could have done to upset you. You seemed understanding when he left you in your room. Maybe you felt rejected when he declined your offer to shower with you? If only you’d known how hard it was for him to say no to you, how his self-control almost hadn’t been strong enough.

He rounds the corner to the hotel bar and instantly feels a weight lift off of his shoulders when he sees you sitting at the bar, wearing the Hawiian shirt that mirrors his own. Bucky makes his way across the room in quick strides.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay?” He places his hand on your shoulder and you turn to look at him.

Any relief Bucky had felt just moments ago is gone as soon as he notices your tear-streaked face and watery eyes. He instantly reaches a gentle hand out to cup your face, which you promptly smack away.

Bucky raises his hands in the air, wanting to show that he isn’t a threat. A distressed and confused expression makes its way across Bucky’s face as his mind begins to race. He immediatley searches his memory again for what he could have done to upset you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, ready to come up with a solution; ready to console you; ready to do everything in his power to take your pain away. This is the first time Bucky’s seen you this upset, and in this moment he decides he’ll do his damndest to make sure he never sees you this upset again.

“Fuck off, Barnes,” you scoff, turning back towards the bar and downing the last of your drink.

Bucky stands with a dumbfounded look on his face, hands frozen in the air. Determined to make sure you’re okay, Bucky takes a seat next to you while you order another drink.

“Doll, what happened?”

Bucky feels as if his heart is about to pound out of his chest. It’s physically hurting him to see you like this, and it hurts him even more knowing that, based off your hostility towards him, it might be his fault.

“Did I do something, sweetheart?”

You turn to Bucky, eyes lit with what Bucky can only describe as rage.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask that girl you were buying a drink for at the bar,” you scoff, an incredulous smirk on your face as the bartender places a fresh drink in front of you.

Bucky feels his whole body go tense at your words. His eyes close as he sucks in a strained breath, realizing how it must have looked if you had seen the interaction from afar.

“Please, let me explain. It wasn’t what it looked like, I promise.”

“Yeah right, James. Was that not you buying a drink for a fucking supermodel out there? Maybe it was your doppelganger out there that was laughing with her? I’m sure you weren’t trying to get in her pants. I’m sure it couldn’t have been the fact that there’s a hundred better-looking, more interesting women at this resort right now. I’m sure it wasn’t that you got what you wanted from me an-”

“Enough,” Bucky’s stern tone cuts you off.

He looks around and sees the attention your little spat has drawn. He softly says your name, ocean blue eyes boring into your own, pleading.

“Please, doll, let’s talk. Can we get out of here?”

He watches you contemplate for a moment before responding. Bucky’s eyes may have softened your resolution because you give in.

“Fine. I’ll hear you out, but that’s all I’m promising.”

“Of course,” Bucky nods enthusiastically as he stands from his chair, “if you still want nothing to do with me after I explain myself then I won’t bother you anymore. Swear.”

Bucky watches as you attempt to hop down from your barstool in your drunken state. You barely land on your feet, stumbling forward. Bucky reaches out instinctively, wrapping his hands around your forearms before you land face first on the hard floor.

“Careful, honey.”

You remove your arms from his grasp and head towards the lobby, Bucky following behind you. Bucky stops you with a light hand on your shoulder in front of the gift shop.

“Hey can you wait right here for a second?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, James?”

Bucky tries to ignore the twinge of pain he feels as you call him by his first name again.

“Please, just trust me. I’ll be back in one minute, just sit right here.”

He directs you to a couch before going into the hotel’s little store. Bucky tries to calm himself down as he walkes toward the little fridge and grabs a bottle of water. He struggles to wrap his head around that fact that the two of you went from playing football and scuba diving earlier today to him having to beg to talk to you.

He tries his best to be polite when the cashier asks him about his night, meanwhile he can’t shake the image of your devastated eyes at the bar. He couldn’t let you go on thinking he’d do that to you. Couldn’t let you go on thinking that he would use you and throw you aside like that.

After he pays, he grabs the water bottle and thanks his lucky stars when you’re still sitting where he left you.

“Drink this please, doll.” He extends the water bottle.

He’s expecting you to put up a fight, but to his surprise, you snatch the bottle from him and down half of it in one go.

“Good girl.”

Bucky doesn’t notice the effect his words have on you, even in your outraged state.

“Let’s go outside.”

Bucky’s hand hovers over your lower back as you walk, ready to reach out and steady you in case you stumble. Bucky guides you to the beach, almost empty at this hour. When you’re far enough away from the few people scattered around, Bucky plops down onto the sand and reaches a hand up to help you down next to him.

After you sit, Bucky keeps a lose grip on your hand. When you don’t make any attempts to pull it away, he tightens his grip and pulls your joint hands to rest on his thigh.

Bucky takes a deep breath before beginning.

“After I left you in your room, I went down to meet Sam and Steve at the bar. At one point, I got up to get everyone another round of drinks. That’s when that woman approached me. I was afraid she was going to hit on me at first, and if she had, believe me, I would have turned her down.”

“She wasn’t hitting on you?”

“No, sweetheart, she told me she thought Sam was cute. She wanted to buy him a drink and didn’t know what to get him, so I just gave her the beer I had bought for Sam and let her give it to him. She took the beer over and was sitting with Sam when I got back. For the most part, her and Sam were talking and kissing while me and Steve tried our best to ignore them. Eventually, Steve got up to go to the bathroom and I came to look for you because I had no desire to be around them any longer and I was worried about you.”

“Oh. So you and her weren’t flirting? You didn’t buy the drink for her?”

“‘course not doll.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Buck.”

Bucky feels the tension seep out of his bones when you call him ‘Buck’ instead of ‘James’.

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sorry for how that looked. And even more, I’m sorry that you thought I’d ever do that to you. I would never use you like that then just move on to another girl like it never happened. Besides, I haven’t even begun to get I want from you, honey.”

“Huh?”

“Earlier you said I’d just taken what I wanted from you. That’s not true.”

Bucky won’t have everything he wants from you until you know that being able to spend these last few days with you has made him feel like the luckiest man alive. Until he’s convinced you that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. Until he’s able to help you overcome all those unwarranted insecurities stupid fucking Brock put in your head. Until you’re his.

Bucky’s afraid to say all of this out loud, both because he doesn’t want to scare you off and because he’s not ready to admit to himself how quickly and deeply he fell for you. So instead, he brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to it.

Almost as if you understand, you don’t press the topic, just let out a little sigh at the feeling of Bucky’s soft lips on your skin.

“I really am sorry though, Buck. I overreacted. I guess I just thought you got bored of me and decided to leave, like Brock. Besides, it’s not like we’re exclusive. I mean we hardly know each other, it’s not my place to tell you what you can or can’t do with other women.”

“Doll, I wouldn’t waste time with other women when we’ve only got a few more days here. I’d spend every second of my time left here with you if I could,” Bucky rubs his thumb along your hand, hoping that you believe him. “Listen closely. I understand why you got upset. It looked bad. Also, Brock is quite possibly the dumbest man on the planet for having someone as fucking perfect as you and ‘getting bored’. I don’t know how you put up with that undeserving piece of shit for so long. You deserve to be fucking worshipped, don’t ever settle for anything less.”

“Thank you, Bucky,” he doesn’t miss the way your eyes start to water again at his words.

“Promise me, doll.”

“Promise what?”

“Promise me that you’ll never settle for anything less.”

Though the thought of you being with anyone else at all pains Bucky - he knows it shouldn’t -, he needs to know that no matter who you end up with after you leave Hawaii, you’re being treated right.

You hesitate for only a moment before responding.

“I promise, Buck.”

“So,” Bucky braces himself, “are we okay? If you want nothing to do with me, like I said before, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Yeah, Bucky” your lips curl into a gentle smile, “we’re okay.”

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief when you scoot yourself closer to him and lean against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you tight, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Good. Now drink the rest of your water, sweetheart.”

Bucky uncaps the bottle and hands it to you. You sip on the water and Bucky feels at peace for the first time in hours, with you in his arms and the waves crashing onto the sand in front of him. He could stay here forever, he thinks. It’d give him plenty of time to ask you all those questions. Before he can get the chance, though, he feels you shiver.

“Shit, honey, are you cold?”

Bucky had been too preoccupied thinking to notice the breeze blowing against the two of you.

“Let’s go back,” he doesn’t wait for an answer from you before standing and helping you to your feet.

As soon as you stand, you interlace Bucky’s fingers with your own and the two of you make your way back to the hotel. You seem to be walking a lot more steady now, the bottle of water and time spent on the beach having sobered you up.

Bucky fills the walk back with apologies for hurting you and you reply with your own apologies for jumping to conclusions. By the time the two of you reach your floor, you agree to leave the events of the night behind you and move on.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Bucky questions, getting ready to say goodnight and turn toward his room.

Your response surprises Bucky.

“Do you want to come back to my room?” you smirk at Bucky and begin to run your hand up his forearm.

“Are you sure, doll? We don’t need to do anything.”

After everything that’s happened today, the last thing Bucky wants to do is make you feel like you’re being used. He needs you to know he’s spending time with you for the right reasons.

“I want to if you do, Buck.”

“Okay, but only if you’re certain.”

Bucky wouldn’t even be considering it if he didn’t think all the alcohol had worn off, but he hasn’t seen any signs of intoxication since the walk to the beach.

“You made me a promise in the dressing room.”

Bucky’s eyes darken as he recalls you getting on your knees for him in the hotel gift shop earlier.

“I did, didn’t I?”

Bucky leads the two of you to your room and unlocks it with the key card he still has.

“Can’t leave me hanging, Bucky.”

He’s sure you’re more than ready for some attention after he had edged you.

“You’re right about that baby.” he opens the door and walks in behind you.

Bucky can tell by the way you stand awkwardly in front of the bed, you’re waiting for him to give you an order. The realization makes his dick jump in his boxers. He typically prefered to be dominant in bed, and he’s grateful for the way you seem so eager to submit and let him take the reigns.

“Listen, doll, tonight is all about you. You were so good for me today. You did perfect and you earned your reward.”

Even if he didn’t actually do anything wrong, Bucky can’t help but feel responsible for the tears you shed today. He wants to rid the image of your watery eyes staring at him with hate from his mind and replace it with one of your face scrunched up in pleasure as you scream him name.

He needs to make it up to you.

Bucky pulls his shirt over his head as he stalks toward you, throwing it on the floor.

“Take your clothes off and get on the bed.”

Bucky does nothing to hide the ravenous look in his eyes as he watches you undress, he just palms his rapidly growing erection. He lets out a low curse when you expose your breasts to him. You remove your shorts, then look up to Bucky with a questioning look as you thumb the waistband of your panties.

“All of it, doll.”

You pull the fabric down your legs and lay back on the bed, waiting for Bucky’s next move.

Bucky allows himself to revel in this moment only for a second - you spread naked on the bed, waiting for him with desperate, pleading eyes - before he reminds himself that he’s supposed to be making it up to you right now.

Bucky stands by the edge of the bed and grabs your ankles. He drags your body down the bed with ease until your hips are on the end of the bed, legs hanging over the side. Bucky kneels down onto the floor, face level with your center.

Bucky is only slightly shocked at how wet your core is. He can’t help the groan that escapes him as he watches your slick pool out.

“Fuck, doll. You’re killing me here.”

You buck your hips up into the air seeking any sort of relief and Bucky throws your legs around his shoulders. He doesn’t even give you a chance to beg, he dives right in. He laps up the wetness that has escaped from your pussy before suckling your clit into his mouth and tonguing it.

You let out a shriek and it only spurs Bucky on.

He alternates between fucking his tongue into you and suctioning your clit between his full, pink lips.

“Fu- Bucky! I’m cl- oh god- I’m close!” Bucky thinks that he could spend the rest of his life down here, on his knees for you, if you continue making sounds like that.

He grips your thighs around his head, fingers almost bruising. He rapidly flicks his tongue over your clit and you come with a moan that Bucky thinks may be the second-best thing he’s ever heard - number one being your laugh, of course.

Bucky returns to your hole to drink up all of your release. He listens to your gasps as you ride out your high, hips bucking into his face.

“Okay, Buck, it’s- fuck- it’s too much, baby,” you try to pry your legs open around his head but his grip is unrelenting.

Bucky lifts his mouth off of you just long enough to say, “Not yet, honey. I want one more,” before he reattatches his mouth to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He meant it when he said he could stay down here forever. He pays no mind to his stiff knees - sore from the hard floor, or the wet spot formed on his boxers from his leaking dick. He wants you to forget about all the pain you felt today, wants to eat you out until all you know is pleasure, until the only word your mouth is able to form is his name.

“Holy fu-ahh,” you grab the comforter beneath you for dear life.

“You can do it, doll. Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?”

Bucky brings a hand up inbetween your legs and slips two fingers into your soaked pussy with no resistence.

“So fucking soaked baby. This little pussy really was desperate for me, huh?”

He curls his fingers until he feels that spongy spot inside you and continues brushing up against it when he hears your moans.

“Yes, Bucky! Right there, please!”

“No need, to beg tonight doll. I know exactly what you want and I’m gonna give it to you.”

Bucky sucks your mouth into his clit and ever so gently scrapes it with his teeth, eliciting a borderline pornographic moan of his name from you. He continues curling his fingers and focusing his mouth on your clit.

You don’t give him a verbal warning, but Bucky knows you’re about to come undone again by your breathing and the way you’re squeezing his fingers so tight he’s afraid you’ll push them out. He eats you through it, fucking you on his digits as you moan and gasp for breath.

He pulls his hand from your core and fucks you with his tongue until you start to whine from overstimulation and only then does he pull away, rising to his feet.

“Did so fucking perfect for me, baby,” he praises, “I’ll be right back, promise.”

He bends down and places a kiss on your damp forehead, and heads for the bathroom. Bucky is reminded of his hard-on when his zipper presses against it rather uncomfortably. He shucks off his pants and shoes on the way to the bathroom.

He grabs a washcloth and dampens it in the sink with warm water, and returns to you in his boxers. He gets back down onto his knees and spreads your legs. He drags the warm cloth through your folds, cleaning up the mixture of his spit and your arousal. Once he’s done the best he can, careful to avoid your oversensitive clit, he presses a kiss to the top of your mound.

He stands and throws the washcloth into the pile with the rest of the dirty clothes.

“Tired, doll?” Bucky fights back a laugh at the way your eyelids droop, struggling to stay open.

“No, Buck, lemme take care of you,” he sees your eyes drop to his boxers.

“Not a chance, honey. Told you tonight was all about you. Time for bed,” he smiles fondly at your attempt to take care of him.

You put up a brief fight, but Bucky manages to get you under the covers and climbs in next to you. You immediately curl into his chest when he’s beside you and Bucky’s thankful you can’t see the grin on his face.

He brings a hand to your hair and smoothes it down.

“Goodnight, angel.”

The only response Bucky gets from you is the light sound of your breaths, hot against his chest.

Once he’s positive you’re asleep, he allows himself to admit out loud, “I think I’m falling for you, doll.”

To be continued...

Tags Below (Discontinued after this chapter, follow @buckyispunkwrites and turn on notifications!

@vicmc624 @distancedss @kandis-mom @cakesandtom @buckbuckybuckaroo @volleyballgirl2022 @sapphirebarnes @xobabygirl143xo @sarah1barnes @ladyacrasia @charmedbysarge @buckybarnessimpp @angelicbabydoll @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @jaydensluv @hilmiponken @openup-yourmind @marvelavengersstuff @noonespecial90 @primroseluna @unadulteratedpastazonkpeach @moonlightreader649 @buckyb-stan @skyesthebomb @grandma-sickomode @n1ght5h4d3-24 @bean-bean2000 @jchotch726 @sad-not-glad @happyglitterturtle @gyokujyn @bumblingbamblingbandofbaboons @differenttyphoonwerewolf @cjand10 @its-daydreamer23 @chemtrails-club

#bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #aloha #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel smut #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes series

180 notes · View notes

what-have-i-unleashed · 2 months ago

Text

killer and color "enemies" phase headcanons (might be a bit too indulgent sorry)

inspired by the tags on this post

nightmare always lets killer to go off to fight color when they deal with the star sanses and/or the epic sanses, providing that killer is an obedient servant of course. whenever he's given the permission, killer just immediately takes off to fight color. his fated enemy. if there is a soulmate in this world, color would be killer's.

killer and color always fight each other with no intervention, mostly because killer doesn't like it when other interferes with their "games". this is a special right only color gets to have. if color gets help, killer will brutally and quickly take them out before resuming his usual song-and-dance with his fated enemy - that's why color always advises others to not help him, not even in the smallest ways. if any of nightmare's other minions get between killer and color, killer will make them pay. nightmare forbids killer from killing his coworkers, but that doesn't mean killer won't make their lives a living hell if they decide to butt into his business and steal away his favorite "toy".

and i think when killer fights color, he feels... happy of some sorts. he just emits some toxic variation of positivity, a cruel and deranged, but also warm and delighted, joy at playing with color. look at how they fit into each other's steps. look at how exhilarated and alive color makes killer feel. the barbs, the taunts, the comebacks - it feels good to have someone to receive what he dishes out and return it with a pretty bow on top. nightmare often stays away because of the positivity killer has during his fights with color. and killer, in some twisted way, deduces that this is his reward from nightmare for "being good" - a positive reinforcement to ensure his long-lasting loyalty to nightmare of sorts.

and this close and personal relationship with color that killer has is so different from his other relationships. with nightmare, with chara, he's always the hurt one, the one under control. but with color, it's refreshing to have something, someone, he can hold and carve his feeble feelings upon. someone to receive all his worst tendencies and still be strong enough to appear next time to oppose him and play with him again. he could almost call color a "friend", but that's not the correct word, isn't it? they're both "toys" in someone's games. and killer wishes it'll be like this forever. he wishes color would remain his "toy" so he can have this small speck of joy til the end of his time. "let me hurt you, and you can hurt me back - because that's what we're supposed to be in this grand cosmic narrative." they're enemies, so it's fine if they hurt each other, right? it's fine if killer doesn't need to bow down or accommodate another authoritarian being in his life, right? it's okay to make color suffer all his worst, and in return he wishes to crack open color's deepest darkest secrets too.

{pspsps @howlsofbloodhounds come here}

#enemies-to-something-else is my weakness #killer should be allowed to be his worst with color #and if color doesn't go away then he'll just push and push and push #killer sans #color sans #utmv #undertale au #not sure if i should tag duo and/or ship because they're not there yet lol

51 notes · View notes

nctangelz · 25 days ago

Text

EXCUSES ARE TIRING

where sooyoung is finally tired of making excuses for wooyoung.

warnings :: arguing, mentions of cheating

tags :: @yjjnfied

Sooyoung smiled, looking in the mirror she bought for the living room. She was finally about to see her boyfriend, Wooyoung, after being apart for a whole two weeks due to schedule conflicts. Even though the pair were just spending time at Ateez’s dorms, Sooyoung decided to dress up for her boyfriend. Her hair was braided messily and was tied together with a big white bow, because Wooyoung always loved when she had bows in her hair. He said it made her look cute.

“You look pretty, Sooyoungie!” Jaemin exclaimed, walking out from his room. “Where are you and Wooyoung going tonight?” Jaemin asked, pausing his snack mission to talk to his member.

“Oh, we aren’t going anywhere. I think we are just going to play some games with the boys.” Sooyoung said, turning and smiling at Jaemin, trying to ignore the disappointment on Jaemin’s face.

“He hasn’t came to see you in two weeks and all you are doing is staying in the dorms? Since when have you ever enjoyed playing video games?” Jaemin asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Sooyoung only sighed and shook her head, grabbing her phone and her purse from the coffee table.

“He’s been busy, Jaem, that’s why he hasn’t came and seen me. And, I like playing some games…I like playing Mario Cart! And Cooking Mama!” Sooyoung said, trying to convince herself she would have a good time. It was very unlikely that the other members would want to play those games, and Sooyoung knew that there wasn’t going to be enough controllers anyway. But atleast she got to see Wooyoung.

“Yeah…What time is he bringing you back?” Jaemin asked, sitting down on the couch while Sooyoung texted Wooyoung, letting him know she would be leaving soon.

“I’ll be driving. And I don’t know when I’ll be home. Why? Is there something happening later?” Sooyoung asked, groaning when Jaemin just looked annoyed again. “Why are you suddenly so annoyed with Wooyoung? You seemed to like him the last month when he would come over? What’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with me? More like what’s the matter with him? He hasn’t bothered to visit you at all, and now the day you finally hang out he’s making you drive and not even offering to do something you enjoy?” Jaemin said, frowning when Sooyoung only rolled her eyes. Jaemin stood up and walked towards the girl, slightly leaning over so he could whisper in her ear, “Be mad at me all you want…but you know i’m right. Text me if you need me to come get you.” And with that, Jaemin walked away and went into the kitchen.

Sooyoung was slightly annoyed that Jaemin was subtly insulting her boyfriend and shaming him, but she felt uncomfortable with the fact that she had to agree with him. She was disappointed that Wooyoung wasn’t going to atleast cook her dinner or offer to spend one on one time - but she knew he had a stressful couple of weeks, so she swallowed her grievances and walked out the door.

When Sooyoung finally arrived infront of Ateez's apartment door, she was pleasantly suprised when San was the one who answered the door.

“Sooyoungie! I missed you!” San said, opening the door wider to let the girl in. “How are you?” San asked as she leaned in to give the girl a hug, squeezing her before letting go.

“I’m doing okay! I’ve been doing a lot of stuff with comeback preparations so i’ve been busy. How does it feel to finally get some rest?” Sooyoung chuckled, smiling when San sighed and relaxed his shoulders.

“It’s amazing not having to get up before the sun rises, I can tell you that much.”

Before Sooyoung was able to ask where Wooyoung was, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her from behind and swing her around, comfortably leaning her head back when she recognized it to be no other than her boyfriend.

“Hello, baby.” Wooyoung whispered, kissing Sooyoung on her cheek before setting her down. “I missed you.”

Wooyoung kept leaving kissed down the girl’s neck until Sooyoung giggled and turned around, playfully slapping the boy on the chest. “That tickles!” Sooyoung whispered, shaking her head before leaning against Wooyoung’s chest, closing her eyes and listening to his heartbeat. “I missed you so much.”

“I know, Soo. But now we can hang out! I bought you some of your favorite snacks.” Wooyoung said, dragging her into the kitchen to show her the bag of treats he prepared for her, laughing when she immediately went and grabbed her favorite candy.

“I haven’t had this in so long! How did you even remember me liking this?” Sooyoung asked, rolling her eyes when Wooyoung only shrugged. “You’re a goof.”

Before Sooyoung could lean in to give her boyfriend a kiss, Mingi came into the common area and yelled for everyone to come to the living room. Wooyoung only raised his eyebrows and gave an apologetic look towards Sooyoung before dragging her to his members.

Sooyoung listened as the boys argued over what game they should play first - none of them she had ever heard of before. While the boys argued, she went and plopped herself on the couch, quietly eating her candy while getting her phone out.

[ jaem 🐰] how’s cooking mama going?

Sooyoung rolled her eyes, starting to get agitated by Jaemin’s attitude. Sure, she probably wasn’t going to have the best time, but does he really have to rub it in her face?

[ soosoo 🧸 ] stop being a prick. i’m having a good time.

Sooyoung threw her phone on her lap, trying to get Jaemin’s bitterness out of her head. She squirmed as she thought of the small argument the friends had - she hated that Jaemin was right. As the minutes go by without Wooyoung by her side, the more disappointed Sooyoung gets.

[ jaem 🐰 ] you never use periods…why so sad meowscles? chenle and i are going to get icecream…you can tag along

Sooyoung frowned, of course Jaemin and Chenle would get icecream in hopes that she would want to come home. She knew his trick of using icecream as bribe…but she wasn’t going to let it fool her. She hadn’t seen Wooyoung in forever, so even if it’s not the quality time Sooyoung was hoping for…she’ll take it.

[ soosoo 🧸 ] haha, your tricks are old. thanks anyway

Sooyoung shut her phone and leaned back, smiling when she saw Wooyoung make his way over to her.

“Sorry it took so long, everyone can never agree to what game we play first.” He whispered, sitting down next to her and placing his hand on her thigh, softly rubbing circles with his thumb. “Thanks for coming over, I know games aren’t your favorite thing in the world.”

“It’s fine…I would rather be with you and be bored than not see you.” Sooyoung said, planting a kiss on Wooyoung’s cheek. “Did you all make a decision?”

“Yeah…everyone is just getting snacks. If you really don’t want to do this we can go do something else…we can go to your dorm.” He said, frowning when Sooyoung faked a smile.

“You never miss game night, I’m not going to force to miss out on it. Besides, my rooms a mess.” Sooyoung said, lying about her room. Her room was never a mess, she just didn’t want to bring Wooyoung over and face the wrath of Jaemin.

Wooyoung kissed Sooyoung on the lips and whispered a “Thank you”, getting up to grab all of the controllers. “If you wanna join in, let me know. I’m sure Hongjoong-hyung would be more than willing to give you his controller.” Wooyoung chuckled, teasing his leader.

“Hongjoong oppa would be a lot better at these games than me, I don’t think anyone would want to be on their team.” Sooyoung chuckled, shrugging when Wooyoung sighed.

“I would love to have you on my team,” Yunho said, patting Sooyoung’s head gently. “Just don’t throw the controller out of rage.” Yunho teased, laughing when Sooyoung grumbled.

“That was one time! And I didn’t even throw it at anything, I just dropped it!” Sooyoung defended herself from the boy - painfully remembering the day San and Yunho forced her to play a game with them…and of course Sooyoung kept dying and losing. Anyone who was in her position would have also rage quit.

One by one, the members piled in the living room and cramped in. Yeosang apologized when he sat in front of her, limiting her leg room. Before she knew it, the games had started and Wooyoung was sitting next to her, yelling and focused in on his game, leaving Sooyoung to her own devices.

She scrolled through her phone for awhile, rolling her eyes when she saw the selca Chenle sent in the dreamies group chat…both Chenle and Jaemin really had went out and gotten icecream. Sooyoung wished she would have swallowed her pride and went with them. Hours had passed, and soon enough, Sooyoung was passed out on the couch. She slept for hours, somehow tuning out all of the yelling and sound effects from the games.

It wasn’t until three am when Sooyoung woke up to the sound of her vibrating phone, cursing when she saw it was Jaemin. She popped up out of her seat, almost tripping over Yeosang in the process.

Walking to the kitchen, Sooyoung answered the phone, clearing her throat before her spoke.

“Hello, Jaemin?” Sooyoung asked, wincing when she turned the kitchen light on. “What are you doing awake?”

“I’ve been awake calling you for the last hour, are you still at Wooyoung’s?” Jaemin asked, suprisingly not sounding upset. Sooyoung widen her eyes when she checked her call log and saw a bunch of missed calls from Jaemin. Why didnt Wooyoung wake her up? “I kept getting voicemail, so Wooyoung probably kept hanging up.”

“I’m sorry, Jaeminie, I was asleep. The boys are still gaming..or atleast some.” Sooyoung said, shrugging when she only counted six members. “I don’t know why Wooyoung kept declining it…that’s annoying.”

“Yeah, it is. Do you need me to come get you?” Jaemin asked, getting up when Sooyoung hesitated. “I’m coming to get you, I don’t want to drive when you’re tired. We can go get your car tomorrow.” Jaemin said, hanging up when Sooyoung agreed. She didn’t really want to leave, but she also didn’t want to spend the night crunched up on the couch.

Sooyoung walked back into the living room and gently tapped Sunwoo on the head, waiting until the round of the game finished to start speaking.

“Why didn’t you wake me up when Jaemin was calling me?” Sooyoung asked, rolling her eyes when Wooyoung didn’t turn to look at her. “Don’t you dare start another game, I’m talking to you.” Sooyoung was suprised at her harshness, but she had been ignored for the post six hours…she had the right to be upset.

“I didn’t think it was important, why was Jaemin calling you in the first place?” Wooyoung groaned, unwillingly placing his controller down to look at her.

“He called me because he knew you weren’t going to drive me home, and I don’t like driving when i’m tired. He’s coming to get me, by the way.” Sooyoung snapped, walking over and grabbing her purse, leaving the snacks Wooyoung had bought her on the couch. She could feel herself getting more annoyed by the minute, especially when she saw Wooyoung itching to wrap his hands around the controller again.

“Why are you so pissed? You willingly came over, Sooyoung.” Wooyoung said, and Sooyoung couldn’t ignore the sting when he called her by her full name. He almost never did that, always calling her a nickname or something sweet.

“I wanted to spend time with you! I thought I wouldn’t care to sit here and watch you ignore me…but it’s getting old. You don’t bother to see me for two weeks and then expect me to be fine with sitting here for hours? Doing nothing?” Sooyoung could hear Jaemin in her head, whispering “You know I’m right”, over and over again. She didn’t want to believe him, to admit that he was right. She wanted to believe her boyfriend was better than that.

“I was busy!” Woyoung argued, standing up and following her as she walked to the door. “What did you want me to do, just tell my managers I can’t go to practice and hope they understand?” Wooyoung asked, crossing his arms when Sooyoung threw her arms up and looked at him.

“I’m busy too, Wooyoung! What do you mean “What did you want me to do”? I’ve been making this work ever since we got together. You don’t think I’m busy? I came and saw you after hours of practice, I came to see you during my fifteen minute breaks! I called you every night before bed, and you never, ever returned the favor. Why am I the only one who is actively trying to not to loose what we have?” Sooyoung asked, trying to contain her tears. “Some nights I wondered if you even cared about me. I wondered if you found someone better and were too afraid to tell me.” Sooyoung choked out.

Sunwoo stood there, shocked at the girl’s words. He never would have thought to hurt her like that.

“Baby, I would never leave you. And I would never hurt you like that," Wooyoung whispered, cursing when Sooyoung’s tears escaped her eyes. “Fuck, Sooyoung, I had no idea.” Wooyoung said, backing away and pulling on his hair.

Sooyoung leaned up against the door and let her tears fall, giving up on caring if Wooyoung’s members are watching.

“I think we need a break.” Sooyoung blurted out. Quickly wiping her tears and looking up at Wooyoung, holding her breath when he saw the look on his face.

“A break? For how long?” Wooyoung asked, hope draining out of his face when Sooyoung shrugged.

“I think you need some time alone. You had a stressful time…you need to get yourself together before you put all your energy into something else.” Sooyoung said, clearing her throat when she saw that Jaemin had texted her. “I have to go now.”

And that was it. She turned around, opened the door, and left. Wooyoung didn’t run after her, he didn’t hug her before she left, he didn’t do anything. He just stood at the door, watching the best girl he ever had walk out of his life.

Sooyoung didn’t know she was holding her breath until she got into Jaemin’s car, finally letting everything go when she saw the concerned look on Jaemin’s face. She gasped and cried and screamed all at the same time, hugging her knees to her chest until she could hear Jaemin’s voice again, telling her to breathe, telling her to look at him.

“Sooyoungie, I need to look at me. I want you to pretend my finger is a birthday candle. Blow it out for me, will you? Blow it until the flames are gone.” Jaemin said, holding his finger infront of Sooyoung. Even though she wanted to cry and scream more, she listened, blowing at Jaemin’s finger. She cried in between, but eventually, everything subsided, and she was gently blowing on Jaemin’s finger. “It’s all gone, isn’t it, Sooyoungie?”

Sooyoung only nodded, leaning back in her seat, numbly looking up at the sky through the window. “I told him we needed a break.”

Jaemin didn’t say anything to that, he only frowned and looked ahead, starting the car and pulling away. He wanted to tell Sooyoung she should have broken up with him, but he knew that she needed silence. She need some peace.

Jaemin hated watching Sooyoung go through all this pain. He hated that no one else realized how wonderful Sooyoung truly was, he hated how everyone took her for granted. Sooyoung’s love is beautiful, because when she falls in love, she falls hard. She commits. She will love you until you push her away…and she will keep loving you until the tears run out.

He wanted to be the one to love her, to show her how she deserved to be treated, he wanted to show her that he wouldn’t break her heart, that he would cherish her and spoil her with all of his loving words…but he knew it would never work.

So, instead, he holds Sooyoung while she cries herself to sleep, gently brushing her hair and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. He fills her water bottle everyday and makes her breakfast, pulling her out of bed to stare out the window for a few hours. He sings to her. He tells her about his day. He shows her videos in hopes to make her laugh. He takes care of her and helps her get in the shower, sitting on the toilet and telling jokes so she doesn’t break down in the process. He sits in silence with her, until eventually, she smiles at his jokes, she gets out of bed before him and makes him breakfast, she talks and fills the silence. She sings with him. He holds her until she teases him and tickles him. He helps bring her back to life - and he would do it all over again whenever he needs her to.

Jaemin would keep his love hidden for Sooyoung all of his life, if that meant that he would never lose the girl of his dreams.

46 notes · View notes