#Taylor expression kills me every time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

webslingingslasher · 1 year ago

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taylor swift song request lesgooo!!! end game from reputation where y/n has a really big reputation as a 'bad girl' and peter (good boy loml) ends up tutoring her, and sees she isn't all bad...

first off, i am so sorry this took so long, you may not even be on my page anymore, but this struck something in me & i couldn't stop.

second, i switched up the request a little because if you listen to the song, (in a non snooty way lmao) taylor is the one expressing she wants to be with this person but she has a bad repuation and everyone's heard about it, and it's a lot to commit to because of the talk surrounding her.

---------

Everyone had it wrong.

You were good. And kind. And smart. And talented. And confused. And lost. And just like every other kid in the school. You were good. You stayed to yourself. You didn’t gossip. You didn’t judge. You didn’t tattle. You were good.

So why did everyone hate you so much?

It was your brother’s fault. His reputation preceded yours and it ruined everything for you.

He was the one that picked fights.

He was the one that pushed teachers to the limits.

He’s the one that sold dope from his locker.

He’s the one that hooked up with a girl in the teacher's lounge.

And the third floor bathroom.

And the girls locker room.

And underneath the bleachers.

He’s the one that made everyone think you were just alike.

It ruined everything about high school so far.

Jokes, rumors, lost friendships, people refusing to date you.

It was childish and unfair. You wanted one person on your side, the one person you watched in class, the one person that was nice to you in a school of jekyll’s. And you couldn’t have him.

“Hey, still coming later?”

Peter Parker had a smile that could make the devil buckle. He was sugar, spice and everything nice. Long time crush, but the part where you’ve been smeared into a good for nothing whore, made nothing possible.

“You sure you still wanna do this? I don’t mind asking Mrs. Stu-”

Peter called your name like you were telling a joke, “it’s my honor to tutor you! Don’t blow me off.”

You want to protect him. You like him too much. He hangs around you long enough and accusations with his name start flying around with yours.

“If you’re so desperate,” grinning brightly, “I’ll see you later.”

Peter was so kind to tutor you. Your teacher asked on your behalf, she said she thought you’d be a good pair and you couldn’t deny the extra help, too bad Peter had to be the one on the chopping block. He was being a good samaritan and you knew what it would cause for him, even with the alone time you’ve been craving, you’d keep him pushed away at all costs.

You didn’t want the fallout to burn him, you’re used to the sting and he’s someone that shouldn’t feel anything but a loving touch.

Even if it would kill you, you’d have to pretend to be disinterested in Peter Parker and watch him walk away.

Oh, the things you do for love.

—------------

You’ve never felt so paranoid in your life. You swore everyone was looking at you, or maybe they were looking at Peter. Telling themselves it seemed fit that a nerd would be trying his shot with the school whore, because it’s not like you’d say no.

“Hi, can I sit?” Peter pointed at the patch of grass next to you, your eyes squinted as you looked up at him, it was hard reading his expression. You were the shade but he was standing under the sun, everything was washed out and too bright.

“Um, here?” you pointed at the same spot, taking a chance to look around, you felt eyes all over you. “Yeah, I mean, unless you want me here?” He pointed at a patch on the other side of you, “or here,” gesturing next to your feet, “you know what? You choose, I’m the guest.”

He’s so nice. Gentle, even. You hadn’t experienced someone so kind, so golden hearted, in a minute. His kindness shouldn’t be his weakness or his downfall. With one last scope of the scene you assume he could stay for a moment, at least you could figure out where to meet later.

You give Peter a smile and pat the first spot he pointed out, “you can sit,” answering his original question. His backpack hit the ground first, jimming himself closer to the tree behind you to rest his back on. Peter’s fingers picked pieces of grass, you assume in boredom.

“So,” you both speak at the same time, a soft exhaling laugh at the symmetry. You wave Peter along, the sooner he gets it out the sooner he can leave, the quicker he is with you the less he’ll be attacked.

“Wanna meet at the library?”

And have everyone see? Have his reputation smeared like your own? There’s a reason you don’t have many people around you, you can’t believe he doesn’t see it.

“No,” he’s taken a bit back by your blunt tone. Peter hums low, “your place?”

You scoff, “absolutely not.”

There’s no other option then, “alright, my place it is. Wanna come with me after school? We could take the bus, unless you prefer the subway.”

God, there’s nothing in the world you want more. It was too dangerous, if you got close enough it’d be too hard to rip it away. If you were seen leaving school with him, going to his house with him, it’d be over for him. You would give him the mark of cain.

It hurts more than you’d like to admit, you take your turn at plucking small weeds, avoiding his face. He’s hard to say no to.

“I can’t. But, I’ll come over tonight.”

You hate how happy he sounded when he answered, it was so unfair. You were a good kid, your brother was the bad one, but you dealt with all the repercussions. Your heart felt so weighed down, you wanted nothing more to reach out and hold Peter’s hand.

You wanted a boyfriend.

You wanted a friend.

You wanted love.

You wanted to feel accepted and heard and validated and supported by one person.

But you couldn’t have him.

“Cool. Wanna give me your number?” It’d be better than talking in person, easier to keep him away from you unless absolutely necessary. You nod, finally looking at him when you hand over your phone, he’s got a giant smile and you have to look back down at a patch of weeds with a single dandelion poking from it.

“Yours?”

Peter’s fingers brush yours when he hands his over, a warm jolt spreads down your wrist and into your elbow. It makes you feel alive, it’s a welcomed feeling. You try to forget it immediately.

His screen is cracked and scratchy as you type your number in, feeling him watch over your face you scan the crowd of people. You swear you see someone pointing, you shove his phone back in his hand, scrambling to stand.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way, I have to go.”

He’s not allowed to care this much. It’s unfair.

“You don’t want to have lunch with me? I have half a sandwich if you want it, I know we only have like, ten minutes left but if you want it, it’s yours.”

‘If you want it, it’s yours.’

Does he mean it? Is there a limit to what could be yours?

Too bad you’ll never know.

“Thank you, but I can’t.” He almost looks disappointed, you have to stop making things up.

“You sure? I don’t mind sharing with you.”

You do. He can’t suffer the same consequences you do, it’s too isolating. Lonely. You were lonely. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll see you later, Peter.”

Peter takes his time unwrapping his homemade sandwich from cellophane, he takes a bite from half and moans, outstretching his hand with the other half, still wrapped up. “Here, take it to go. My aunt made it, if you try hard enough you can taste the love.”

He’s god damn irresistible.

You take his gift, slowly backing away, “thanks, I’ll search for it.”

Peter’s smile hurts your eyes, “good, it isn’t hard to find.” He’s adorable, even when he’s wrong.

It must be his superpower.

—-------------------

Peter’s aunt was two things.

A lot, and very kind.

You can see where Peter gets his aggressive pleasantry from, the moment she opened the door she was eager to please you. May wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, her voice cheery in your ear.

“Oh my goodness, it is so nice to put a face to the name.”

Politely patting her back you swallow thickly, she’s heard all about you and your make believe history. She’s kind but you know in the back of her mind she’s hoping you’d leave her nephew alone, get what you need from him and leave.

“Nice meeting you too, you make a killer sandwich, by the way.”

She gasps, pushing you away by your shoulders, moving her head to catch her eyes. An unfamiliar smile crosses her face, you don’t know what it means but it feels as welcoming and radiant as Peter’s.

“Oh, good! He shared.”

May said it like it was planned, like she could tell you were confused she broke your attention away. “I made cookies, because everyone knows you need sugar to help you focus.” A wink, she was so gentle, it’s something about those Parker’s.

You play along, it’s nice to be welcomed for once. Even if it’s until you’re gone, the moment she tells Peter she knows all about you and to keep his distance.

“I think I read a story on that once, nine out of ten dentists agree, right?”

And just for a moment you let yourself dream, floating on your imaginary high of Peter Parker when his aunt laughs at your joke, her smile slowly dimming while she looks at your face, deep in thought. A confident head nod.

“Peter was right about you.”

You should take it negatively, but you don’t. There’s something about her that tells you she only means well. It must mean she hasn’t heard the bad things, but once she does, she’d be eating her words.

But damn, if you aren’t curious about what Peter said. Was he nice, did he hint at a crush, did he make his aunt believe you were someone you’re not?

“Peter was right about what?”

The devil himself appeared from nowhere, his body standing next to yours, so closely you can feel hints of his cotton zip up hoodie brushing your arms. You closed your eyes to breathe slowly, the sight of him with his hands flat on the kitchen counter, leaning his weight into the laminate, his hoodie strings dangling in a tempting way.

In a way you want to pull him closer by them, curling the fabric around your fingers and tugging him until his mouth is on yours.

You’re easy to read, you can see it on May’s face the second you open your eyes. You know in an instant she knows that you like her nephew. Even more surprisingly, she looks excited with the knowledge.

Her eyes flicker back to her nephew, “how lovely you said our guest was, what else did you say?”

You can see Peter freeze, “May,” it’s a warning tone. His aunt bulldozes, “wasn’t it something about how pr-” You don’t know what she says, Peter speaks over her. “May!” Jumping in your spot, caught off guard by his sudden tone and volume change, Peter moves a hand to your arm, “sorry,” it was delicate, it was him saying he was only sorry towards you, sorry for catching you off guard.

Fighting past his numbing touch, you smile, “it’s okay, I didn’t know you could be so stern.”

You need to see a therapist, because you swear you shared a moment. “Only when it’s something I’m passionate about.”

He’s talking about you, he has to be. You want him to be.

You have no idea how you’ll keep yourself from tying to him. But you’ll give it a fighting chance.

“You know what I’m passionate about?” Peter shakes his head, it’s hard to look away from his eyes, you never knew brown eyes could be so pretty. But you do, attention directed to fresh made chocolate chip cookies.

“Cookies.”

Peter won’t let you off that easy, “what kind?”

You bounce different flavors over in your head, “you’re opening pandora's box, parker. I mean, are we talking grocery store, homemade, or bakery?”

His arms crossed over his chest, “well, now I need to know every answer.”

You blow out a breath like you’re about to compete in the olympics, “alright, off the shelf grocery, you can’t go wrong with double stuffed oreos. But, personally, those keebler elves, with the fudge? I love em, my mom stopped buying them cause I’d eat half the pack in one sitting, so now my dad sneaks them to me. But, I mean, you can’t go wrong with those little bakery sugar cookies, you know, the ones that stick to the roof of your mouth?”

Peter bites back a grin, you weren’t lying, you really were passionate.

“I know what ones you’re talking about, they’re gross.” It’s the most offensive thing he could say to you. “You’re wrong, but okay.” He laughs, “opinions can’t be wrong,” you pull your head back, “they absolutely can, yours is proof.”

You look for support from his aunt but she’s long gone, you didn’t even see her back away.

Peter rolls his hand, amping you on, “homemade?”

You spit the answer quickly, “butterscotch oatmeal.” He’s never heard of them, or tasted them, but if you love them, he thinks he would too. “You’ll have to bring me some to try, they sound tempting.” Agreeing with him, “you’d never go back.”

“Bakery?”

“That’s the tricky one, it’s a rare find, not every place has them. But it’s my all time favorite flavor of anything ever made, s’mores.”

Peter loves it, your favorite treat was s’mores and it fit you.

His personal mission was tracking one down and bringing it to you.

“S’mores? Really?”

You nod, “really, really. If you find one you’ll have to try it, unless you have another wrong opinion and don’t like s’mores.”

“Nah, I love s’mores.”

Peter Parker was too good of a person to bring down. You need to shut down your admiration, because his alienation would hurt the most.

—---------------------

This wasn’t good. No, this was bad. This was really bad.

Peter Parker just called open season on himself and it was all your fault.

You should’ve refused for him to be your tutor, that was the mistake. The moment it was agreed upon it was over. You should’ve never gone over to his house, if you hadn't then you would’ve never told him about your favorite cookie, and he wouldn’t have gotten you one.

It happened in third period, he approached your seat and set a small white box in front of you. Your eyes flickered from the box to him several times before you asked, “what’s this?” A gift, you knew that much, he’s given you a gift and Jeffery Stewart was watching it go down. Peter would have an hour until he was tied to you.

“Open it,” slowly opening the cardboard your heart skips three beats, once for each cookie. You’ve never felt so seen, dare you even say loved? He listened, that’s what it was. He listened to you and he tracked them down and presented them to you, he was proud.

Peter Parker has made everything about your current life harder.

“Oh my god, where did you find these?”

He shakes his head, like it doesn’t matter where he sourced them, what matters is that he did.

“You were right, they’re hard to track down, it took me three days. Surprisingly, they’re mostly seasonal.”

You tsk, contemplating tearing one in half right now. “It’s so wrong, isn’t it? I mean, you can buy s’mores stuff all year long, so it doesn’t make sense.” Fuck it, it’s selfish, but he went above and beyond.

Splitting a cookie, you hand half over, cheersing yours with his. You throw your head back and hum the second you bite down, they’re the best ones you’ve ever had. You weren’t sure if it was because they were that good, or because it felt like they were purchased with care.

“Holy shit, Peter. These are unearthly.”

He’s in the same boat, he can understand why they’re your favorite now.

Nodding excessively, “my world has changed for the better.”

“Yeah, mine too.” It was a slip, you didn’t mean to say it. It came out without thinking, you said it sincerely, and he knows it. Peter finished the rest of his cookie and licked his thumb, “good, I’m glad to hear it.”

This was bad. This was very bad.

Because Peter Parker lays his hand on your desk and leans in, really closely, it makes you stop functioning all together. He needs to leave, he needs to back away, he needs to leave you alone. He doesn’t know what he's doing to himself, but you’re too selfish to stop it.

Even with Jeffery Stewart staring you down like a dog in heat, a wicked grin spreads while he ropes over the many rumors he’s about to flood the halls with.

“Wanna come over tonight?”

Lost in a world of a million thoughts, all of them being about the distance from his lips to yours. Blinking back to attention you groan, “I don’t really feel like studying tonight, my brain is mush.”

Peter nods, then moves in, just an inch closer, you feel like you’re about to die.

“Not what I asked.”

“I don’t-”

“I asked if you wanted to come over, not if you wanted to study.”

The room is spinning, everything is a blur. He’s flirting, Peter Parker is flirting with you in front of an audience. He’s fearless, it’s impressive. There’s no way he doesn’t know about your reputation, the things people say about you, the things you do.

Suddenly, a chill creeps up your spine. What if he knows exactly what people say, what if that’s why he’s being sweet, what if that’s why he’s acting like he cares? Fuck it, you’ll call him out on his bullshit, but privately, you don’t need any extra attention.

“Sure. Same time?”

“Same time,” it’s set in stone when the bell rings, Peter knocks his knuckles on your desk before he walks away. It’s unfair how much you hate to see him pull away from you.

—------------------

The upside to being cynical is that when things don’t work out, like you plan, you’re not that hurt, because you called it the whole time.

Just like Peter, you knew the second it circled back to him he’d be gone. It proved to be true when you heard mumbles by your locker, eyes flicking to you and back, quicker whispers shared.

From what you’ve gathered, either Peter has seen your nipple piercings or he’s given you nipple piercings. Not that you had them, but that didn’t matter. What now mattered was that Peter was directly tied to you and your boobs were involved, that’s enough alone for him to get a clap on the back while you’re being shamed for even acknowledging your body autonomy.

What a lame rumor, Jeffery Stewart could’ve gone to the moon with theories but this was the one he settled on? Usually he was a bit more creative, his last one ended up with you and the guidance counselor in the principal's office informing you that it was a safe space, and that if the school’s janitor came onto you it wasn’t your fault.

It took three weeks for people to totally forget it, but those few weeks you’d hear claps and wolf whistles when you passed by the janitor's closet made you feel like you were on the constant verge of vomiting.

Usually it wouldn’t bother you, but once they involved Peter’s name you felt sick. Everything you feared itching to life, and right when you heard a third possibility you couldn’t stay silent, slamming your locker door shut and giving wild eyes to the girl talking to her friend on your right.

“Which one is it, Lindsey? Was he holding my hand while I got them done, did he see them, or did he do them? I don’t know about you, but if I heard three totally different versions of a story I’d question the authenticity of the claim.”

It didn’t matter who was watching, you couldn’t hold it in.

You felt like you were on fire, you could see her sputter, like she didn’t expect you to call her out. You felt like the walls were closing in on you, she didn’t start the rumor but she was helping it spread and she was the closest person you could explode on.

“C’mon, Lindsey. Which one? I want to hear your side, unless you think it went down a totally different way. What? Scared to talk?”

Your throat’s closing, you can’t stop, you step closer, you shout at her.

“Which one, Lindsey!” The hall was dead silent, for the first time you had no cares about who was looking.

Her shoes squeak as she backs up, her eyes wide and blinking, a flash of terror, it makes you want to squeeze her and shake her, try to get her to understand this was what it felt like to be you.

“Fucking answer me!” Your voice cracked, she whimpered, fat tears falling.

“None! I don’t believe any of them!”

She doesn’t. You can see it written all over her face, she was just talking to talk, knowing you could hear every word she produced. It just made you feel sad.

“You can hunt other women as much as you want, Lindsey. But the collusion doesn’t save you from the same hunt.”

Lindsey nods, like she understands. But you know she doesn’t, you know she’ll keep being the same, until they turn on her, and then she’ll wonder why no one stands up for her and how anyone could believe the jargon they say about her. And on that day, you’d be nodding with the crowd.

—-------------

If Peter told his aunt about today she had an excellent poker face. Because she was more than happy seeing you when she opened the door, hugging you close before she could even shut it.

“Hi, sweetheart! How are you doing?” Politely hugging back, you talk back in her ear. “Hi, Ms. Parker, I’m good, how are you?” A squeeze before you’re released, her hands warm on your shoulders.

“Oh, please, just call me May. Did Peter give you the cookies?”

You nod while biting back a grin, she might have a clue for how you feel about her nephew but you’re not announcing it either. “Good,” she’s got something in her that makes you feel like she’s more of a wingwoman than aunt.

“Peter’s in his room, I won’t be back until late, are you sleeping over?”

You feel off balance for a second. May’s leaving you and Peter alone, for several hours, and then suggests you’ll be spending the night. She really is a wingwoman. It makes you second guess everything Peter might have told her, it’s clear she can see your mental gymnastics when she pats your arm.

“He said you guys are gonna hang out, maybe watch some movies. I just meant, will I be surprised if I come home to you two cuddled up somewhere.”

Is she saying not to fuck in the common areas?

“Are you saying-”

“Keep it in his room.”

Mortified. She must assume the worst out of you, you’ve only met her twice and her thought was that the second you were alone you’d be fuck bunnies. To be fair, Peter is really attractive. She can tell how embarrassed she’d made you and she’s quick to jump over it.

“No accusations and no shaming. I’d just rather be clear to both of you. Peter had a worse conversation, be glad.”

You take that as her permission, and that she likes you. She has to, she just implied she’d be cool if you and Peter hooked up. Even if the world hated you, having her approval made you feel like you had someone to impress again.

“Okay, I understand and accept the rules and boundaries of your home.”

May laughs, hooking her purse over her shoulder she pats your arm again. “You’re a good kid, don’t forget that.”

And that made you want to curl up and cry, you haven’t had unprompted support like that in years. It worked, because you’d never, not once, cross any boundary of her’s. In fact, after that? You’d die protecting hers.

“Thanks, May. See you later.”

A wink, “See you later, honey.”

You took a second to breathe, and look over yourself in the mirror before approaching Peter’s door. Knocking for a second and opening it when he answered, he spun one eighty in his desk chair, a blur of blue plaid until he settled.

Before he had a chance to speak you did, “did your aunt give us permission to have sex, or am I tripping?”

Peter’s grin dimmed, he looked to his closet doors while his cheeks tinged pink. “I promise you, whatever she said to you, is nowhere near as bad as my talk.”

“She mentioned that, was it all about the ins and outs of pleasuring a woman?”

Peter’s avoiding eye contact, you came here to tell him he should keep his space but watching him shrink under your questions made you feel powerful. Each blush he gives makes you want to dig in further.

He more or less shrugs, it’s a damn bold line, you don’t even know what you're saying until it comes out in full.

“Tell me, Parker, could you please me?”

Seconds tick, you can hear it on his clock, finally he looks at your face. Any trace of a blush fallen, it makes you feel choked.

“I’m not sure, but I’d love to find out.”

Panic. He’s not supposed to say that, he’s supposed to back down. You’re supposed to back him down.

Peter can’t go down this road and it’s your job to block his path, but you can’t stop yourself from moving out of his way.

“I mean, since you already know about the nipple piercings…” you trail your words, expecting a sneer. Instead he laughs, a full on body laugh, it makes you smile, just the pure happiness radiating from him.

For once a rumor is just something you can laugh about.

“Psh, of course I knew about them. I mean, isn’t that the third time you’ve had them?”

It was. You didn’t realize it but that was the third time the rumor was reused. You didn’t notice but he did, did he notice all the other ones too? All the ones that stated how bad you were? Did it even matter if he believed them, you didn’t think so, at least not at this point, you just didn’t want him to suffer the same fate.

Peter pats the top of his bed, “take a seat,” your stomach lurches, the thought of being in his bed enough to ignite you in flames. His aunt said keep it in his room and he’s luring you right in, your palms feel like they’re sweating. If he heard all the rumors about you sleeping around and thought you were like that, he was about to be disappointed.

Holding your eyes shut and squeezing fists you rush the words out, the quicker said the quicker this would be over.

“I’m a virgin!”

Instead, he looked utterly confused, looking around his room like he was trying to figure out where the explosion came from. Settling on a low release of words, his eyebrows furrowed in, “so am I?”

Just to be clear, “I’m not looking to change that tonight, so if that’s why you wanted-”

“No!” Peter almost slips on the floor he stands so quick, “that’s not at all why I wanted, I just thought…” He doesn’t know how to say it, he almost said he thought you needed a friend, but that could be offensive, or worse, he’d be friendzoning himself for you.

“Thought what, I’d be an easy piece? Cause I know you’ve hea-”

“I asked Mrs. Sturgis if I could tutor you!”

You stop talking, his words looping in your brain. That doesn’t make sense, because if he did ask then that means he wanted to tutor you, that means there was a deeper meaning, that means when his aunt said he talked about you it went further than what was said at school.

“Please,” he pleaded your name, “come sit? Just for a second.”

You follow his command and sit on the edge of his bed, watching Peter pace as he combs his hands through his hair. He’s nervous.

“I don’t know how to talk to you, my brain is just… you make me really nervous.”

“Why did you ask to tutor me?”

Peter stops moving to look at you, it was easier to answer when you asked.

“So I could talk to you.”

It’s a start, “why?”

“I just wanted you to trust me. I hear what everyone says, and I don’t believe a word of it, but I didn’t want you to think I was asking for the wrong reasons, or making a joke out of you.”

Your face scrunches, “you thought, I’d think, that you asking to tutor me, directly, would be a joke?”

Peter shakes his head, sitting back in his chair and taking a second to answer you.

“No, I think if I asked you out on a date you’d think it was a joke.”

You laugh, “well, yeah… It’s not like you…”

Except he does, and you can see it all over his face. He really, really does. With the new knowledge you don’t know how to act, suddenly aware Peter Parker sees you in a different light. He doesn’t see you as his student, he sees you as a potential mate.

You only know fight or flight, and your flight option was crawling further up his bed, backing away until your back hit the wall, a dull thump produced. You give a barely audible, “ow,” your brain racing with thoughts, trying to catch up with his admittance.

“You okay?”

You’re thankful he can’t see you, the top bunk perfectly cutting your head from his viewpoint.

“Peachy,” you can barely speak.

“Cool, cause it seemed like you kinda freaked when I implied I wanted to ask you out.”

You nibble on your thumbnail, “implied or asking?”

“I’d rather ask when I can see you.”

How is he so calm, he was the one that was just pacing the floor talking about how nervous he was. Now he’s a smooth talker.

“Is that why you asked to tutor me? So you could ask me out?”

“Maybe, but you also need a tutor.”

Rude. Fair, but rude.

“So, you like me?”

You wish you could see the smile he has, you know he has one, you can hear it in his laugh.

“What would give you that impression?”

You shrug, but he can’t see. “I don’t know, you’re not nervous anymore.”

“I don’t have to be, the girl I like likes me too.”

You gasp, you’ve said no such thing! There was absolutely nothing to base his accusation off of. You mock his words.

“What would give you that impression?”

Another laugh, you wish you could see that laugh. But once you emerge it’s over, it means he’s signed his life away to be with you. An act of selflessness you didn’t know was possible.

“Look at yourself, you’re hiding cause you’re petrified to be asked out.”

“No, I’m not. I’m protecting you, cause if you don’t ask, you won’t be ridiculed.”

You imagine he looks offended, because he sounds it.

“Do you think I give a shit what anyone thinks?”

“It’s isolating, Peter. I’d feel like I’d bring you down, and you don’t deserve that.” You take a breath, “you’re very kind, and I really like that.”

“You’re kind too, and smart, and really, very, pretty. And I think once you have a boyfriend and a friend group, things won’t be so bad and everyone will forget why they teased you.”

You hum, playing with your nails and chewing at your bottom lip, silence took over. It was a rush of a lot of emotions, you’re shocked and excited. You’re also panicked and jittery. It was everything you feared and wished for at once.

Peter Parker is asking to be in your life, no matter the cost.

That’s the bravest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Clearing your throat, “who would be my boyfriend?”

Peter pretended to think about it, “you could have whoever you want.”

“Anything you want, it’s yours.” An immediate flashback to the first day he sat with you, you mumbled out the words and scooted, just an inch, from the wall.

“What was that?”

You announce it, moving forward another inch, “anything you want, it’s yours. You said that at lunch the first day you sat with me, do you still mean it?”

There’s just something you’ve been dying to do, something you’ve been wanting to do. And he said whatever you wanted.

“Whatever you want, I mean it.” He sounds sincere too, you move forward a few inches.

“Have you kissed anyone before?”

Peter doesn’t understand the correlation but he’ll entertain it. “Yes?”

You offer up more information, hoping he’d catch the hint. “I haven’t.”

He doesn’t. “That’s no biggie, I think over half the school-”

You speak over him, “but, I want to.”

It takes Peter a second to register it, and when he does he almost collapses.

“Oh. I see. Um, want me to come in there, or you come out here?”

Your heart races, he’s so willing to do whatever with no qualms, you just asked and he’s delivering. You were about to have your first kiss with your number one crush, and he liked you too.

“Wait, you’re gonna do it?” You’ve never been so excited. Or anxious. Were these the butterflies people talk about?

“I’m sorry, did I read that wrong?”

“No, you’re just… right now?” You think you’ll puke all over him, that’s why you’re stalling.

You can see Peter drum his fingers over his pants, “do you wanna hold off for a second? I’ll do it whenever you want.”

Your heart clenches, “Peter,” you groan out his name, “stop being so nice, it hurts.” Waiting a moment before continuing, “I’m gonna suck, and you won’t like me anymore.”

God, you wish you could see the cocky grin smear, you can hear it, but you want to face him more than anything. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. He knows you can’t stay hidden forever.

“Wanna bet?”

Why not? If you really think about the last year and change of high school, what else would you really have to lose?

Plus, he was really cute.

Overwhelmed with the knowledge of knowing you were about to have your first kiss, you slowly shimmied to the edge of the bed, right where you were before you hightailed it backwards.

Peter looks even better than you’ve pictured, his hair fluffy from where he ran his hands through it. A greeting smile rested on him, and his bright brown eyes warmed. “Well, hello there, I was afraid you got lost.”

Sucking the life force from your bravery, “I was told there would be kisses out here.”

A surprised look crossed Peter before he fell back into neutral, pushing off his desk to glide over in front of you, his knees knocking yours, suddenly you feel panicky again. “There absolutely can be.”

Peter catches your nerves and figures it’d be easier to actually get it over with, because the second he would pull away all panic would hit near bottom ground. Using what little skill he has, he rests his right hand on your thigh while his left cups your face.

You suck in a breath, following his guide when he brings your face up to his. Peter swipes his thumb across your cheekbone and you feel everything in you be set ablaze with desire.

You wonder if he can feel how warm your cheek is under his touch, if he does, he doesn’t comment. When you give him no disagreement he leans in, he can hear your breath hitch, it brings him a little pleasure to be the ‘cool’ one in the situation.

When he’s closer than you would’ve ever imagined he gives you a grin, “hi.” It was a hushed whisper, you give him one back, “hi.” Your eyes flash from his gaze to his mouth, you were caught, it makes you look down at your hands.

Your mind spirals, why hasn’t he kissed you yet, and also, what do you do with your hands? Giving it a shot you press them against Peter’s chest, but it feels like you’re pushing him off, so you move to his shoulders but it doesn’t feel quite right.

“Want some help?” Peter caught on to your struggle, of course he did, he just notices the little things with you. He doesn’t even pull away, just bringing his hand that was on your thigh to bring your left hand around his neck. Your right hand outstretched to rest on his ribcage, when you look back he seems much closer, this time he’s looking at your mouth.

“Do-”

Peter cuts you off, a hushed whisper, “I’m gonna kiss you now,” you breathe in sharply, “oh, okay.” Peter can’t fight the smile, “is it?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, his mouth is on yours, and it’s heaven. You feel like you’re floating, his lips velvety smooth, the only way you know how to show your shock and appreciation is by gripping his shirt. Peter’s bottom lip favored your top lip, moving into his kisses awkwardly. He was much more experienced, but he didn’t make you feel overwhelmed, it felt like he was guiding you.

You didn’t feel like you were doing much, but it felt like everything you imagined. It made you dream of a day where you could do this with him whenever you wanted. It felt like he was pulling away, you refused to part and followed him, holding tight to his flannel. It failed when he was able to push you away with ease.

Peter sounded slightly winded, you were blinking with stars in your eyes, your heartbeat in your throat, and just a little shy to look at him. “Funny thing about kissing, you gotta breathe to keep doing it.”

You're new to it, gulps of fresh air weren’t as refreshing as him. You wanted to kiss him again, but you didn’t want to put him out, and you still weren’t sure how to initiate or ask for it.

Peter tapped on your knee, “wanna take me out for another test drive or are you happy with your purchase?”

He wanted to do it again.

That’s a good thing.

“If I buy it, does that mean the test drives stop?”

“Of course not. That just means you don’t need to ask to drive it.”

You lean in this time, “but I have to ask now?”

Peter speaks against your lips, “it would be the customary thing to do.”

“Well then,” you speak softly and look at him, “would you kiss me again?”

Your eyes close when he brushes against your mouth, a kiss is pressed to the corner of your cheek, “depends, are you planning on purchasing?”

Boldly, you give him a chaste kiss, “everyone at school is gonna hate my new car.”

Peter kisses your cheek, “best in show, baby. Best in show.”

You take a deep breath, it wasn’t a bad thing to need someone. And it wouldn’t be bad to let yourself have them.

Peter Parker heard everything everyone said but he wasn’t even listening, it felt dizzying, for the first time someone saw the real you, the good you and wanted you. He wanted nothing and everything at the same time. You liked him, maybe a bit too much, and the risk of losing him was enough to send you flying. But the chance of love, and hope and trust was even bigger.

Someone wasn’t scared to have a big reputation with you. Peter Parker was proud to have the same big enemies as you.

And for that reason,

“Sold.”

#peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter fluff #my writing

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goldfades · 7 months ago

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CELLLLLEBRATION TIME COME ON 💃🏽✨💃🏽✨

Alsoooo…🌪️cuz we need some angst up in here.

Can we get prompt "If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?" for Kate plz?

-🐹

evangeline's 2.5k celebration !! [closed!]

wheww, this is a lot. i forgot how much i enjoyed writing gut wrenching angst LMAO, enjoy🤗🤗🤗 (don't kill me pls)

─ warnings | lots of word vomit (sorry, i was listening to taylor swift and got a bit carried away), ANGST!!!!!! WITH NO HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!!! unrequited love (?) best friends to lovers, break up (?) all depends on how you view it

YOU PULLED OUT OF KATE'S GRIP, feeling all the emotions of the last couple months weigh on your shoulders as your throat began to tighten.

you stepped back, trying to gather your thoughts, but they swirled like a tempest within you. the weight of the past months seemed to press down on your chest, suffocating you with each breath. memories flooded your mind, each one a sharp pang of regret, anger, or hurt.

"y/n, hey!" kate's shouts echoed throughout the hallway as she chased you down.

you held back your tears ─ you couldn't ─ no, you wouldn't ─ cry in front of her teammates, and especially kate. you walked as fast as your legs could carry you, each step a deliberate effort to put distance between yourself and kate's pursuing voice.

your chest felt tight, your heart pounding in sync with your hurried footsteps. you couldn't afford to break down now, not when every fiber of your being screamed for release, for solace from the emotional maelstrom that threatened to consume you whole.

kate caught up (she always did), she gripped your arm and pulled you back to face her. her grip was tight and bruising, but you knew she never meant to hurt you.

"what? what's wrong?"

how could she be so oblivious? you felt a sob bubble up in your throat but you swallowed it. you stared into her pretty blue eyes, the same ones who'd at one point, given you so much comfort ─ now, they felt almost like a strangers to you. the familiarity of her gaze, once a source of solace, now felt foreign and distant, like staring into the depths of an abyss you no longer recognized.

her grip tightened on your arm, a silent plea for you to open up, to share the turmoil that threatened to consume you. but how could you begin to articulate the storm raging within your heart when even the simplest of words felt like shards of glass on your tongue?

you swallowed hard, trying to push past the lump in your throat, but the words remained trapped within you, suffocating you with their weight. how could you explain to kate what you could barely comprehend yourself?

"do you want me? like, really want me? all of me?" you began, your words quiet as kate's expression turned from confusion to stern.

"what?" she choked out, her grip loosening from your arm. "y/n, you wanna do this now?"

"do you?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of your words hung heavy in the air. "do you really want me? all of me?"

kate's expression softened, her features clouded with a mix of emotions ─ surprise, uncertainty, and something else you couldn't quite name.

"what do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

you hesitated, the words catching in your throat like a jagged edge. how could you begin to explain the tangled mess of emotions swirling within you, the doubts and fears that had plagued you for so long?

"i mean..." you began, your voice trembling slightly. "i mean, do you want me in the way that... that i need you? in the way that i've always needed you?"

you've been there for her, the entire journey and she was still "oblivious". you sat back and watched her fall in love with other girls, with other people while you remained on the sidelines, silently yearning for a love that seemed forever out of reach. you watched as she poured her heart into relationships that never quite measured up to what you knew you could offer.

and the worst part of it is, she always knew. she wasn't dumb or oblivious ─ she strung you along like a puppet on a string, weaving a tangled web of false hope and empty promises. she knew the depth of your feelings, the extent of your devotion, and yet she chose to keep you at arm's length, content to bask in the warmth of your affection while giving nothing in return.

you were nothing more than a convenient placeholder, a shoulder to lean on when her latest romance crumbled, a temporary fix for the loneliness that plagued her restless heart.

and as you watched her flit from one relationship to the next, each one leaving a trail of broken hearts in its wake, you couldn't help but feel a simmering resentment building within you ─ a resentment born from years of unrequited love and silent suffering.

but even as the bitterness threatened to consume you, you couldn't bring yourself to turn away, couldn't bring yourself to let go of the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, she would finally see you for who you truly were ─ a loyal friend and a love worth fighting for.

"i thought..." she started, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. "i thought we were okay. i thought... i thought we were good."

you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "we're not okay, kate. we haven't been okay for a long time. and i don't know if we ever will be."

"i didn't realize..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"but you should have, you were my best friend." you interrupted, your tone tinged with frustration. "you should have seen it, kate. you should have seen how much i needed you, how much i still need you."

kate's gaze softened, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "i'm sorry," she whispered, reaching out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. "i'm so sorry, y/n-"

you moved away from her touch, the hurt in her expression deepening. "if i asked you to kiss me, in front of all those people, would you?"

kate hesitated, her expression turning from one of confusion to one of uncertainty. she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, her gaze flickering with uncertainty as she struggled to find the right response.

"yeah, that's what i thought," you scoffed and pulled your arm from her grip. "i'm done,"

"baby-"

you scoffed again, the unshed tears burning in your eyes as you shook your head. "don't you call me that, don't you dare call me that. not after everything,"

you couldn't help it, the tears began falling before you could even comprehend it. each drop felt like a release, a cathartic release of all the pain and frustration that had been building within you for so long.

you turned away from kate, unable to bear the sight of her in that moment, unable to bear the weight of her empty promises and half-hearted apologies.

"i'm sorry," she pleaded, her voice thick with regret. "i... i didn't mean to hurt you."

but her words felt hollow, empty promises that rang hollow in the echoing emptiness of your heart.

"i know," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "but that doesn't change anything."

and with that, you turned away, leaving kate standing alone in the hallway, the echoes of your footsteps fading into the distance.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#kate martin x reader #kate martin smut #kate martin fanfic #kate martin fluff #kate martin headcannons #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #lv aces #las vegas aces #wnba x reader #wnba basketball #wbb x reader #wcbb x reader #iowa women’s basketball #kate martin #evangeline's 2.5k celly ☆

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kinardsevan · 4 days ago

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2 + 49 for the numbers prompt

“This was a mistake,” Tommy mutters as Evan moves off of the couch, searching for his pants on the floor. The younger man whips his head up at his words and narrows his gaze at his ex, ire set into his expression.

“Oh like that’s shocking,” he hisses as he finds his pants. “You need the god damn cover of nightfall to even call me and fuck.”

Tommy gulps but doesn’t respond. Evan isn’t wrong.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Tommy rasps after a moment when he stands. he pulls his pants back up and buttons them, looking around his living room for his own shirt.

“That’s so fucking convenient for you to say, isn’t it,” Evan growls, stepping into his jeans. He looks over at the other man. “It’s a mistake. We can’t keep doing it. You’re weak and you just, what? Need me?”

Tommy forces down a breath, keeping his mouth shut still.

“But apparently not enough to fuck me for the rest of my life,” the younger man grumbles softly. “No, apparently I’m not good enough for that. Just one night stands now.”

“Hey!” Tommy grips his forearm tightly as he spins Evan around, his face red and his jaw tight. It’s taking everything in him not to let the tears that desperately want to come to actually fall.

“What,” Evan taunts, anger still laced through his tone. “You said you couldn’t be my last, but you clearly have no problem letting me think I’m good enough to fuck. So is that what it was the entire time, Tommy? I was a good place to put your dick? Work out the baby bisexual while I made you my god-damn human diary? Because you have all my secrets now and-…” His voice chokes off as his own emotions threaten to take over, rage ebbing off of him like steam after a hot shower.

“Walking away from you is the hardest thing I have ever done,” Tommy rasps at him. “You think I thought you were just a good lay? You’re the whole goddamn package, and I knew I was blowing my entire life up the first time I kissed you, because you were never going to pick me. Not in the end, Evan. No one does that.”

A small amount of the anger coming off of Evan seeps out of his expression, but Tommy shakes his head, glancing up at the ceiling to keep his emotions reigned in as best he can. Tears are swimming in his vision, and it’s all he can do to keep them from actually falling.

“You think you know what you want, but six months from now-..”

“I’m so in love with you that I went to bed thinking about what we’d name the kids every night,” Evan cuts him off. “Thought about what color we’d paint the nursery. If we’d have a two-stall garage or if that would even be big enough for the car lift and the muay thai setup. You think I was being hasty? I was bursting to keep it all inside, Tommy. A-and you think it was just bisexual haze? I never thought about all of that with anybody else. Not Abby, not Ali, not Taylor.”

Tommy stares at him as Evan goes off, feeling stripped by his statements. He’s heard exes talk about feeling that way when they inevitably found the next person after him time and time again, but he’s never so much as gotten an inkling of it from anyone after Abby, and with her, it was never actually going to happen.

“You say no one picks you, but I was fucking trying,” Evan tells him. “Not for five seconds, or a year, or two. For the rest of my fucking life. But apparently, that’s too hard for you.”

Tommy’s breath is shallow as he steps forward, his free hand wrapping around the back of Evan’s head as leans his forehead against the younger man’s.

“Loving you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Evan,” he whispers, his eyes closed as the tears finally fall. “It’s the losing you part of it that would kill me. When I said I couldn’t deal…” He leans back slightly, his fingers wrapped around Evan’s jaw to push him back a few inches, although he doesn’t remove his hand. His gaze runs over Evan’s face and chest and back up. “It ends at you. There’s nobody after you. I don’t move on from here. I was just trying to find a way to make it out alive.”

Evan lifts his hand up to where Tommy’s is still on his face.

“Then meet me in the middle, and believe me when I tell you there’s never going to be anyone else,” he rasps. “And let me love you anyway.”

#prompt fic #my fic #micro fic #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #firepilot #firebeast #sloth writes #the ally and the beast #obviously Tommy says yes #I just liked that it would end on that

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orphicdreamers-wp · 1 year ago

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Girl Of My Dreams — Mat Barzal

Summary: In which Mat Barzal inadvertently falls for the oldest Hughes sibling and her brothers aren’t happy.

Content Warning; Taylor swift 1989 isn’t by Tay(its by reader) Mentions of University of Alabama (reader went there) Trevor Zegras being hopelessly in love with reader. Readers social media face claim is Addison Rae bc idc she’d clear as a WAG for a athlete.

Pairing: Mat Barzal x Hughes! Reader.

Mat would be lying if he said he didn’t sneak glances at the announcers box after meeting you. You had been carrying a plate of food and two margaritas to your booth where your friends sat. Tito had made a joke about you seeming familiar then the pair heard your voice and knew, “Alright now, eat up because y’all are bumming me out.” Mat’s jaw slacked, “He’d known that the Islanders had gotten a new game announcer who was a girl but he wouldn’t have known it was you. You were effortlessly stunning, you had captivated the attention of every straight man in the bar. Mat had approached you as you sat at the bar, “I’m Mat, can I buy you a drink?”

You grinned and spoke, southern accent slipping out, “I’m Y/N, I mean Barzy after the way you played last game? You better buy me a drink. ‘Yknow how many hate comments my broadcast got?” Mat grinned as the bartender approached you, “Another Corona Light and whatever she’s having on me.” You grinned sheepishly, “I’m fucking with you. I’ve heard worse.” Mat grinned, “So now would probably be a shitty time to ask you out?” You smiled at him, “Maybe not.” Mat smiled, “If I may, your not from New York are you? Where are you from?” You grinned, “I grew up in Toronto with my 3 younger brothers and moved to Alabama for college and been in New York for a few months now.” Mat grinned, “Well welcome to New York beautiful.” That was a year and a half ago. You still hadn’t told your brothers who your boyfriend was, just that his name was Mathew. Until your album release came creeping in and you wanted to go public with Mat.

Instagram

ynhughes; my album ‘1997’ is now streaming! thank you for all your support(especially the bf, ‘slut’ and ‘suburban legends’ are 4 us)

barzal97: celebrating you is my favorite pastime. i have never met someone who people gravitate towards more than you. you are by far the most wonderfully amazing woman i know. it is a privilege to say i love you🤎 this past year or so has changed my life. you make living easy and so so much better. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.

trevorzegras: alexa play that should be me💔💔

ynhughes: forever in awe of you mathew barzal. amazed a gal like me is lucky enough to be adored by you🤎

oliviarodrigo; THEY HIT THE PENTAGON!! @conangray

>conangray; told you it was them i saw at radio music hall!

ny_islanders; our roman empire is all the sweet posts for to y/n today🥹🥹

sydneyemartin: brb crying. the purest people in the world. so grateful my girls get to grow up seeing a love this pure that isn’t their parents.

>ynhughes: we adore your girls more than words can express.

_quinnhughes: my biggest inspiration is out here killing it. in awe of you everyday sissy🥹 thank you for being my best friend from day 1

ynhughes: in a puddle of tears quinny. thank you for always being on my side, even when im wrong.

sabrinacarpenter; hockey players making me ugly sob wasn’t on my 2023 bingo card

elhughes; my first babies🥹 extremely emotional over you all today

>_quinnhughes: we love you momma💕

jackhughes: 1997 reasons to love my meanie head sister, i guess her bf’s alright

ynhughes: i love you little brat, come visit me and mat!!

>jackhughes: will do, sissy🫡

trevorzegras: i can’t believe she won’t date me 😞😞

>ynhughes: buck up z, your way too young for me. perfect age for @sabrinacarpenter tho!

lukehughes: the worlds best big sister came out with the best album to date

ynhughes; really feeling the hughes love train today, i need to plan for all of us to be together soon! so y’all can meet Mat!

etnow; this just in; the Hughes brothers have brought tears to my eyes supporting their sister

barzal97: the third picture is actually the most accurate representation of your sister now

>lukehughes; always messing with those darn cats! even if they are on the side of the street.

#hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #social media #jack hughes x reader #jack x reader #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal #hughes sister #1989 taylor's version #music #addison rae

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heartz4shauna · 7 months ago

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jackie taylor headcanons >_<

🍓jackie taylor who hates!!!! confrontation. she always whispers a little ritual to herself before she goes out on the field . shauna noticed it once and was so concerned

🍒jackie taylor who’s love language is gift giving!! if yall go to an arcade she always begs for change to the claw machines. she sucks at claw games so she makes you do them, and you always give her the crappy cheap teddy bear and she loves them. her bed is covered with them

🍓jackie taylor who loves going on diner dates! if she slept over at your house the night before, she wakes you up super early to get pancakes doused in syrup and whipped cream

🍒jackie taylor whose idol is rachel greene. “her outfits are just.. mwah. her hair, too. it’s so voluminous. i wonder what hairspray she uses,” she’ll mumble as she sits next to you, watching tv.

🍓jackie taylor who loves wearing your clothes. “you really need to take me with you the next time you go to the mall. these shorts are so fly.”

🍒jackie taylor who uses a bunch of slang. she’d complain to you about some argument that happened between two people on her team like, “she told her to ‘talk to the hand.’ she’s totally buggin’, like, as if! who even uses that anymore? it’s just so outdated.”

🍓jackie taylor who loves watching you play video games. she finds them confusing for some reason. your guess is that she has better foot-eye coordination than hand-eye coordination. “i don’t get why mario doesn’t just try to kill bowser. like, i know he’s stronger than him but.. if he has enough friends, he could take him down. he wouldn’t have to rescue princess peach anymore that way.”

🍒jackie taylor who talks to your parents like they’re her friends. your parents don’t mind it, but they think it’s odd. “i saw your parents giving each other a look when i started talking, like, chillax! i was just saying how much i liked your moms cooking, what’s so bad about that?” when she was talking to them like, “ma’am, your food is the bomb! would kill for this at my crib.”

🍓jackie taylor who insists you walk to places. she claims your car is embarrassing. “i can’t be caught dead in that beater! besides, it’s a nice day out.” you never really thought your car was that bad until you two started dating. probably because you felt bad, since your parents bought it

🍒jackie taylor who gives you notes during class. an ‘i miss youuuuuuu’ scribbled on a sticky note and sent to your desk every class. you’d look back at where she was sitting, her head in her hands and a pouty expression on her face

🍓jackie taylor who loves getting her hair played with!! her head on your lap as you’re both watching tv, five minutes go by, you look down at her and she’s knocked out

🍒jackie taylor who, when she gets her nails done, doesn’t stop showing them off!! she taps possibly every surface and asks you if it sounds nice. she always gets either hearts, stars or swirls on her nails with a bunch of chunky charms. sadly had to take them off for soccer :(

#daisy writes again #yellowjackets #yj #wlw #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor headcanons #yellowjackets headcanons #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #jackie taylor fluff #yellowjackets fluff #i have no idea #what slang #they used in the 90s #i had to google it #will prob delete. probs offensive

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lefteagleblizzard · 3 days ago

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𝔊𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔴𝔫 Until Dawn males x male reader

Summary: Four standalone scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn as they fight to protect you when danger strikes. But not all battles can be won. Each scenario exists in its own self-contained world, unconnected to the others.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Angst. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set during the events of the game between chapter 7, 9 and 10. All of these are separated and not connected. Established relationships. Reader’s death. Some deaths a bit more graphic than others. Matt and Emily broke-up before the events of the game. Mike and Jess are not together in his scenario.

Words counts: 13000 words

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

The hallway of the sanatorium stretched on, dimly lit by the flickering glow of Mike's firestick. Every step felt like it echoed for miles, Mike keeping just ahead of you, the shotgun gripped tightly in his hands. His broad shoulders were stiff, tension radiating off of him as he glanced back to make sure you were close.

He always kept you close.

Your flashlight's beam skimmed over a crumbled section of the wall and your breath caught. Through a jagged crack, you caught a glimpse of something—or someone. A foot, half-hidden in the shadows. The clothes were tattered and smudged with grime, but they were eerily similar to the ones Josh had been wearing.

"Mike," you whispered urgently, tugging on his sleeve. He turned to you, his sharp features illuminated by the firelight.

"What?" he asked, his voice low but firm, the edge of protectiveness lacing his tone.

You gestured toward the wall. "I think it might be Josh."

Mike narrowed his eyes, moving closer to inspect the crack. He squinted, his lips pressed into a tight line. "Could be," he muttered, "but I can't tell from here." He straightened, gripping the shotgun like it was an extension of his body. "Josh!" he whisper-shouted toward the crack, his voice bouncing off the surrounding walls.

"Hey! Josh, is that you?"

There was no response. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the sanatorium's eerie stillness. You both tried to push at the door to the room, but it wouldn't budge. Mike's grumbling curses under his breath were enough to tell you that brute force wasn't going to work.

You crouched slightly, running your hand along the edges of the crack. It wasn't wide enough to fit Mike's broad frame, but you could squeeze through. "I can crawl in. The crack's big enough for me."

Mike's head snapped toward you, his expression sharp. "What? No. No way. You're not going in there alone."

"Mike—"

"Don't," he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. His jaw clenched as he stepped closer, towering over you slightly. "You're not doing this. We don't even know if it's Josh and I'm not letting you crawl into some pitch-black room by yourself to find out."

You met his gaze, feeling the tension crackle between you like static. "And what if it is him?" you argued, keeping your voice low but firm. "What if he's hurt or worse? We can't just leave him-"

"I know that," Mike snapped, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The frustration in his voice was clear, but underneath it, you could hear something else. Fear. "But you don't know what's in there."

You shook your head, your voice softening. "We both know how unstable he is right now. If he is there unconscious and we leave him alone… Mike, that's as good as killing him."

Mike's jaw tightened, his hand flexing on the shotgun's grip. He muttered something under his breath about you being too fucking stubborn.

You almost smiled at his gruff protectiveness, but the situation was too dire for it to stick. "We don't have time to argue about this," you said, crouching lower.

Mike groaned, exasperated. "Jesus Christ, would you just—"

But you didn't wait for him to finish. Dropping to your hands and knees, you began crawling through the crack. Behind you, you could hear Mike's frustrated curses, the scrape of his boots as he paced just out of reach. The wall was thicker than you expected, the jagged edges of the opening pressing uncomfortably against your arms and legs as you maneuvered through.

"You're impossible, you know that? Completely fucking impossible." Mike hissed, his voice carrying through the crack.

The space grew tighter before finally opening up and you tumbled into a pitch-black room. The air was heavy, colder than the hallway, and the silence was deafening. You could barely make out the shapes around you.

"Josh?" you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The sound echoed faintly, swallowed by the oppressive darkness.

A metallic clicking sound cut through the silence, faint but distinct. You froze, straining your ears.

"Josh," you whispered again, your voice trembling slightly. Another click, closer this time, but still impossible to pinpoint. You felt your heart hammering in your chest as you scanned the room, the shadows shifting and morphing with each movement of your flashlight.

The room felt wrong.

Behind you, Mike's voice cut through the stillness, laced with that same infuriating charm even in a moment like this.

"Hey," he called softly, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. "Not to rush you or anything, but I'm really enjoying the view here."

You rolled your eyes, whispering back, "Give me the damn lighter, Mike."

A second later, something small and solid thumped against your butt.

Mumbling a sarcastic, "Thanks," you retrieved the lighter and sparked it to life. The flame was small, barely illuminating more than a few feet ahead, but it was enough to make out vague shapes in the room.

"You're welcome," Mike replied in the same sarcastic tone, though his voice grew more serious as he added, "Now hurry up, okay?"

Standing cautiously, you moved further into the room, your steps slow and deliberate as the lighter's light danced across the floor. The stench of putrid and sour, like rotting meat left to fester for weeks, hit you first. Your stomach churned as you brought your free hand to your nose, trying to stifle the gag that threatened to escape.

As the flame flickered across the room, you saw a figure slumped in a chair, its head tilted unnaturally to the side. Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped closer. At first, it looked almost human. Too thin and twisted, but human nonetheless. But as you drew nearer, the lighter's glow revealed the truth and your stomach dropped.

The creature's skin clung to its bones, stretched tight like leather over jagged edges of exposed ribs and knotted joints. It was hairless, the surface of its body cracked and uneven, with veins like blackened roots snaking beneath the skin. What was left of it’s face was grotesque. Eyes sunken deep into their sockets, the glimmer of madness still faintly visible in the lifeless orbs. Its jaw hung open, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth that gleamed faintly in the light that were no longer human but tools for ripping, tearing and consuming.

Around its wrists, chains were latched tight, rusted and brittle with age. But what sent a chill racing down your spine was the way its body twitched. The faint, sporadic jerks of its limbs made it clear that whatever it was… it wasn't fully dormant.

The ticking sound you'd heard earlier echoed again, and you realized with dawning horror it was the chains straining under the creature's subtle movements.

You took a shaky step back, bile rising in your throat as the stench became overpowering. You turned quickly, ready to crawl back through the crack and put as much distance between yourself and the thing as possible. But before you could drop to the floor, the ticking sound came again—louder this time.

Turning back, you saw the creature's head snap upright, its empty eyes staring directly at you. Its jaw stretched open in a hideous, unnatural screech that pierced the silence. You froze as its arm twitched violently, the sound of snapping bone accompanying the motion. Its hand twisted, bending in an impossible direction with a sickening crunch.

The chain broke.

Before you could react, the creature lunged, its remaining arm straining against the other chain as it reached for you. You stumbled back, your body screaming to move even as fear rooted you to the spot. The second chain snapped with a deafening crack, sending a cloud of rust and dust into the air as the creature freed itself entirely.

You cursed rapidly, dropping to the floor and scrambling back toward the crack.

The jagged edges of the wall bit into your arms and legs as you crawled, but you didn't stop. Panic surged through your veins as the creature's screeches grew louder, closer. One particularly sharp edge sliced into your arm, a searing pain shooting up to your shoulder. You gritted your teeth, refusing to stop, until finally you burst through the other side.

Mike's voice was sharp and urgent as he hauled you up by your arm.

You barely had time to catch your breath before the creature's head and arm burst through the crack after you. Its clawed hand latched onto your leg, the sharp talons sinking into your skin. Pain exploded up your thigh as it pulled, dragging you down toward the jagged crack in the wall. Its face emerged fully now, grotesque and twisted, teeth bared in a hideous snarl that seemed more animal than human. The hollow sockets of its eyes fixed on you, gleaming with a hunger that froze the blood in your veins.

You let out a sharp cry, your fingers scrambling against the cold floor to find anything to anchor yourself. The strength of its grip was otherworldly, the muscles in its thin, wiry arm flexing as it tried to haul you back toward the dark hole.

Before you could even register what was happening, Mike was on top of it. His boot came down on the creature's head with a resounding crack, the force slamming its face into the jagged edges of the wall. The creature shrieked in response, its claws tightening instinctively, sending another wave of searing pain through your leg.

But Mike didn't stop. His entire body radiated fury, his breaths coming in short, savage bursts as he lifted his foot and brought it down again, this time with even more force. The impact sent a spray of black blood and bone fragments scattering across the floor. The creature's head snapped back, but it didn't release you.

"Get the fuck off him!" Mike roared, his voice hoarse with desperation and rage. He stomped again, the crunch of bone echoed through the hallway as the lower half of its face shattered, teeth scattering like shattered glass.

Mike kicked the creature's wrist and wrenching it backward with all his strength. The sickening pop of dislocated joints filled the air, followed by another ear-piercing screech and Mike's face twisted into a snarl. His entire body shook with adrenaline and anger as he stood tall once more, lifting his foot high and slamming it down directly onto the creature's temple.

The force of the stomp finally loosened the creature's grip. Its claws slid free of your leg, leaving jagged, bleeding gashes in their wake. You cried out in pain, clutching at the wound as Mike didn't even pause. He brought his boot down again and again, every stomp fueled by pure wrath.

The creature's head caved under the relentless blows, its skull cracking open with a grotesque squelch. Blood and dark, viscous fluids splattered across the floor and up Mike's boots, but he didn't stop until its body went completely still, its remaining arm falling limp against the ground.

Chest heaving, Mike stumbled back, his hands clenched into fists as he glared down at the lifeless corpse. His face was pale but tight with anger, his eyes wide and wild as he processed what had just happened.

His head snapped toward you and the rage that had consumed him just moments ago melted instantly into worry.

"Shit," he muttered, rushing to your side. He dropped to his knees, his hands hovering over your leg but not touching the wound yet.

"Fuck, you're bleeding a lot. Goddamn it,” he said, his voice trembling as he carefully peeled back the shredded material of your pants to get a better look. His voice broke off, replaced by a shaky exhale as he tore a piece of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around your leg to stem the bleeding. "I told you not to go in there, damn it. I fucking told you."

Mike shook his head, his jaw clenching as he looped an arm around your waist protectively to pull you upright. His grip on you was firm but gentle as he helped you stand. "Fuck this place. We're getting out of here. Now." He muttered, his voice low and full of venom.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Mike shook his head, his jaw tight. "Don't," he said firmly. "Don't you dare apologize. You're okay. That's all that matters."

The hallway was completely dark at this point. Behind all the bars present there, the caged wendigos stirred, their clawed hands stretching through the gaps, grasping at the air as if they could feel your presence.

Your injured leg throbbed relentlessly, each step sending sharp, stabbing pain shooting up through your thigh. The wound on your calf hadn't stopped bleeding entirely and your balance faltered with every uneven step on the crumbling floor. Sweat dripped down your temple as you tried to focus on moving forward, but every time your foot touched the ground, it felt like fire spreading through your muscles. Mike stayed close, his body taut, the shotgun gripped tightly in his hands.

The wendigo closest to you let out a guttural screech, its hollow eyes locking onto yours as its clawed hand stretched through the bars, missing you by mere inches. Its face was a grotesque mask of stretched skin and sharp, bared teeth, the sinewy muscles of its neck twitching violently as it thrashed against its restraints.

Mike stepped in front of you, shielding you from the monster as its claws swiped again, narrowly missing his shoulder.

You pressed your hand against the wall for support, forcing your injured leg to keep moving despite the burning agony with every step. Behind you, the creatures rattled their cages, their shrieks growing louder and more frenzied the farther you went. Some of the bars groaned under their weight, bending slightly as they threw their emaciated bodies against them.

The hallway stretched endlessly before you, a gauntlet of snarling wendigos that seemed to grow more agitated with every passing second. One of them, near the end of the row, managed to twist its arm through the bars far enough to swipe at your side. Mike reacted instantly, spinning around and shoving you gently but firmly to the opposite wall as he fired the shotgun and blasted away the creature.

You clenched your jaw and pressed forward, determined to ignore the pain in your leg. Each step felt heavier than the last, and you could feel blood trickling into your boot, sticky and warm.

Then, the worst happened. As you rounded the next corner, two wendigos leaped into view, free of any cages or chains. Their bodies moved in horrifying spasms, every joint bending unnaturally as they scuttled toward you on all fours. Their screeches pierced the air and their glowing eyes locked onto you with unrelenting hunger.

"Shit," Mike hissed, grabbing your arm and pulling you close to his side. The grip was firm and rough, his body positioning itself instinctively between you and the advancing creatures. "Go! Now!"

You stumbled forward, your injured leg nearly giving out as he guided you down the hall. The wendigos were fast, their spindly limbs propelling them with terrifying speed. Mike fired a shot at one, the buckshot sending it skidding sideways into the wall. It let out an ear-splitting wail but didn't stop, its mangled arm twitching as it resumed its pursuit.

Your hands fumbled against the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall, the rusted metal handle refusing to budge as you pushed and pulled with all your strength.

Panic rising in your chest as you threw your weight against it. Behind you, Mike fired again, the roar of the shotgun drowning out the wendigos' screeches for a split second.

The door finally gave way with a loud groan and you stumbled inside, turning just in time to see Mike heave a rusted metal barrel into the hallway. He fired a shot into the side of it, sparks igniting the contents within.

"Get down!" he shouted, diving toward you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him just as the barrel exploded in a deafening roar. The shockwave of the blast slamming into both of you as flames roared down the corridor. Mike's body shielded you from the worst of it.

When the smoke began to clear, he loosened his hold just enough to look at you, his face streaked with dirt and sweat. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, his eyes scanning you quickly for any new injuries. "You okay?" he asked, his voice rough but steady.

You nodded, your hands clutching his arms for support, his arm steady around your waist as he guided you to the other room to get out of this place.

The stairs creaked underfoot, your breathing was ragged, the pain in your leg a constant reminder of how precarious your situation was. But the tension in the air wasn't just from the pain or the fear, it radiated off Mike in waves, his grip on you firm, almost too tight as he kept you close while you ascended the stairs.

His jaw was set and his eyes darted constantly to every corner of the stairwell. His breaths came sharp and shallow, and you knew he wasn't just tense. He was worried. Deeply, intensely worried.

"Mike," you said softly, glancing up at him as you reached the landing. He didn't respond, his jaw twitching slightly as his eyes scanned the hallway ahead.

"Hey," you tried again, nudging him lightly. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine," he snapped, the tension in his voice unmistakable.

"You're gonna give yourself a heart attack if you keep clenching your jaw like that," you pressed, your tone soft but firm.

"Not the time," he muttered, his eyes flicking to the corners of the ceiling, as if expecting something to drop down at any moment. His hand on your waist tightened fractionally, like he needed the reassurance of your presence.

You huffed lightly, your lips quivering into a faint smile despite everything. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to squeeze the life out of me. If that's your plan, you're doing a great job."

That earned a sharp exhale from him. "I'm keeping you close," he said, his voice low. "Because every time you're more than three feet away, you pull some stupid shit like crawling into a death trap."

You raised an eyebrow, your tone turning teasing. "So you do like me close. Got it."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, shaking his head, but you caught the slight twitch of his lips, the faintest crack in his armor.

You leaned into him slightly, your shoulder brushing his. "It's okay to admit it. I get it, l am pretty irresistible."

He scoffed, the sound almost incredulous. "You're limping, bleeding, and probably smell like a dumpster fire. Real irresistible."

You grinned at that, the teasing lilt in his voice a small victory. "And yet, you're still holding onto me. Seriously, though. I'm okay, Mike I promise."

His jaw twitched again, but this time, his shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit. "Yeah, well… you better stay that way," he said gruffly, but there was a softness in his tone now, a crack in the wall of tension he'd been holding up all night. He finally glanced down at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, though there was no real heat in his glare. "You're unbelievable."

"And you're hot," you shot back, biting back a laugh as you nudged him again.

That did it. Despite himself, Mike's lips twitched again, and this time, the faint smile broke through his scowl. He shook his head, letting out a soft, exasperated laugh until he finally gave in, his grin breaking fully through the annoyed expression he'd been trying so hard to hold onto.

Mike met your gaze again, his expression conflicted, torn between the guilt that still lingered and the relief that you were here with him despite everything. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he just stared at you, his eyes dark with emotion.

Without warning, he leaned down, his free hand gripping your face with a force that nearly made you gasp. His lips crashed into yours with a desperation that took you completely by surprise. The kiss was rough, almost violent in its intensity, his breath was hot and ragged, each exhale trembling with the intensity of the emotions he was trying to keep in check.

His movements sharp and demanding, as if he couldn't get close enough to you, couldn't feel enough of you. You responded instinctively, your arms tightening around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your body aching yet craving the connection he was giving you. His weight pressed down on you more as the kiss deepened.

His breath grew hotter, more frantic. His fingers tightened on your skin, almost painful, like he was terrified to let go, desperate to drown out any space between you. You could feel his desperation in every frantic breath, his rough kisses stealing away any sense of time as he devoured you.

His hands slipping from your face to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, needing more.

Needing you.

You could feel the heat of his breath as he pulled back only for a fraction of a second before diving back in, his lips pressing into yours with renewed force.

Your lungs burned as the kiss deepened further, but you didn't care. All you could focus on was him. On the unfiltered emotion in every press of his lips.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you gasping for breath. His eyes were dark, clouded with emotion, his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss. His hands still cradled your face, thumbs brushing softly against your skin as though trying to calm himself after the storm he had unleashed, his hand steady on your waist as he guided you forward. The silence that followed wasn't heavy anymore. It was lighter, softer, filled with the unspoken trust between you.

The hallway stretched long and dark before you, lit only by the flickering remnants of Mike's firestick. Your injured leg throbbed mercilessly, and every step felt heavier than the last as you gritted your teeth to suppress any more unnecessary hiss of pain.

Then a wendigo's high-pitched screech came, splitting the oppressive silence like a blade. The sound was unnatural, piercing, and far too close for comfort. Your stomach dropped as your head whipped around toward the source of the noise.

"Fuck!" Mike cursed loudly, grabbing your arm as the wendigo emerged from the shadows at the far end of the hallway, its spindly limbs skittering across the walls in horrifying bursts of movement.

You stumbled forward, your heart racing as Mike fired a shot at the locked door ahead of you. The sound of splintering wood and metal filled the air, and he shoved the door open, quickly ushering you inside. His movements were frantic but controlled as he began to drag something heavy nearby the door to block it completely, "Find a way out! I’ll follow you instantly!"

Your eyes darted across the room, panic clouding your thoughts as you struggled to take in your surroundings. There was no exit, nothing but a gaping crack in the floor, wide enough for you and Mike to drop through.

Mike was beside you instantly, his breath heavy as he inspected the space. Without a word, he jumped down, landing with a thud before spinning around to face you.

His arms shot up, palms open as he looked up at you. "I'll catch you," he said firmly, his voice steady and sure.

You bit your lower lip, the tension in your body making you hesitate as you gripped your leg tightly. "Mike—"

"Just jump," he cut you off, his voice softening. "I've got you. I promise."

Trusting him, you closed your eyes and pushed off the edge, your body free-falling for a split second before Mike's hands caught you mid-air. His arm snaked around your waist as his other gripped the railing next to him for balance and he eased you down to the ground as gently as possible, careful not to aggravate your injury.

"You okay?" he asked, his hand lingering on your waist as he searched your face for any sign of pain.

You nodded, though the pounding in your leg was relentless. "Yeah," you breathed, though it wasn't entirely true.

Mike didn't push. He simply wrapped his arm around you, helping you limp through the dimly lit room filled with barrels. The sharp smell of fuel stung your nose and your pulse quickened as you realized the potential danger. The two of you reached a set of stairs leading up to another door, and Mike grunted as he shouldered most of your weight. Together, you began pushing at the door, the effort making your arms burn.

A screech echoed from above, and your head snapped up just in time to see the wendigo drop from the ceiling, its body twisting grotesquely as it landed. Its eyes locked onto Mike, and it lunged forward with inhuman speed.

"Mike!" you cried, your voice raw with panic as the creature closed in.

He spun around just in time, raising the shotgun and firing a deafening blast that hit the wendigo square in the chest. It screeched and flew back. The door behind you creaked as you pushed it open a fraction more, your breath coming in frantic gasps. "Mike, come on!"

He didn't look at you, his focus was entirely on the wendigo, which now skittered sideways, its claws scraping against the walls. Another screech pierced the air and a second wendigo dropped from above, ready to strike at Mike soon. You saw it, felt the icy terror grip your chest and moved without thinking.

"Mike!" you yelled, your voice raw and desperate as you lunged forward. Your hands shoved against his shoulder, the force of your push knocking him out of the wendigo's path. The wendigo's claws swept through the air, its momentum throwing it off balance as it landed on the ground with a deafening screech.

Something was wrong.

There was a faint pressure at your neck, a dull, stinging sensation that you barely registered. For a split second, the room blurred around you and you stumbled, catching yourself against the railing.

Your breaths felt shallow, your chest tight, but you couldn't focus on any of it. Your eyes were locked on Mike, who had already regained his footing and turned back toward the wendigo.

The creature leaped again, and this time, Mike's shot found its mark. The blast echoed like thunder, hitting the barrels, their contents sloshing as the fuel spilled across the floor and began to burn. Mike's gaze darted toward you, his eyes narrowing in urgency. "Get down!" he yelled, his voice barely cutting through the ringing in your ears.

The explosion ripped through the air, the shockwave slamming into you with enough force to knock you off your feet. You felt yourself thrown backward, the heat of the flames licking at your skin as you tumbled through the doorway. When you landed, it was on top of Mike, his arms wrapped tightly around you as the two of you hit the snowy ground outside.

The muffled sound of the fire roared in the background, but all you could focus on was the steady rise and fall of Mike's chest beneath you. Your face rested against him, the cold of the snow stark against the heat still radiating from the explosion. His breaths were heavy, ragged, as his arms loosened their grip just enough to check if you were okay.

"You good?" His voice was breathless, the words barely audible over the pounding in your ears.

You tried to answer, but the sound caught in your throat. A strange, wet gurgle escaped instead and your body stiffened. That dull, stinging sensation in your neck flared to life and suddenly, you became acutely aware of how warm and sticky your skin felt.

Mike's body shifted beneath you as he sat up, pulling you gently with him, His hand moved to your shoulder, steadying you as he finally looked down at you. His expression shifted instantly, his eyes widening in horror as they locked onto the blood dripping down your neck.

His words died in his throat as he saw blood everywhere. It soaked into your shirt, into his jacket, pooling on the snow beneath you. His hands moved instinctively to your neck, pressing against the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Shit, shit, no, no…no, please—" his voice cracked as he pressed harder, fingers trembling as he tried to hold you together. But it wasn't working. The blood kept coming, warm and unrelenting, spilling over his hands like a river.

The cold began to creep into your limbs, the light in the world dimming as your vision blurred. Your head lolled forward slightly, and Mike caught you, cradling you against his chest. You could hear his shallow, panicked gasps that matched the erratic beat of your own heart.

Your chest felt heavy, the air in your lungs thin and fleeting as the world around you faded further.

Mike's face swam in your vision, his expression raw and broken. His lips moved, but you couldn't make out the words. He pressed against your neck, refusing to let go.

Your head rested limply against him, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the warmth of his hands, the familiar strength of his embrace. Your thoughts slipped further away, the edges of the world softening until there was nothing left.

Mike’ shoulders shook, a raw, guttural sound ripping from his chest as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours. The snow around him had turned crimson, the stark contrast against the white ground only amplifying his despair.

He pulled you closer, cradling you against his chest like a fragile, broken thing as he got up and hauled you in his arms and started to run towards the lodge.

His vision blurred as tears welled in his eyes. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles trembling as he tried to hold back the sobs threatening to break free. But the lump in his throat grew heavier with every passing second, his body shaking uncontrollably as he stared down at you.

The face of the person he loved was slack now, the color draining from your cheeks. Eyes now dull and half-lidded, as though the light had been extinguished completely.

His hand began to tremble, still pressing against your neck in a futile attempt to hold onto you, to keep you here with him. His teeth gritted so hard it felt like they might crack, and his breath came out in a harsh, shuddering gasp. The snow beneath him seemed to tilt, the world spinning as the enormity of your absence settled over him like a crushing weight.

The wind howled softly around him, the cold biting at his face as he kept running. The snow crunched under Mike's boots as he stumbled through the forest, your limp body cradled tightly in his arms. His legs shook beneath him, exhaustion gnawing at his body, but desperation drove him forward. He refused to stop, refused to even consider the thought of letting you go. His mind clung to one singular thought: get to the lodge. Someone will know what to do. Someone can help him.

"You're okay. You're gonna be okay. Just… just hold on a little longer, okay?" His voice broke the silence, hoarse and trembling.

The world around him felt like it was collapsing, the reality of what had happened clawing at the edges of his mind.

The sight of a faint flashlight beam ahead snapped him back to the present. His heart leapt, a flicker of hope surging through him as the beam grew brighter, closer and he recognized who was there. "Sam!" he called out, his voice cracking, raw with panic and desperation. "Please! I need help!"

"Mike? Is that you?" Her voice, sharp with urgency, carried through the cold.

Her pace faltered as she got a clear look at him, her breath hitching audibly. The relief that had briefly flickered across her face disappeared in an instant, replaced by shock and horror as her gaze locked onto you.

"Mike… what—" Her voice broke, her words catching in her throat as she took another step closer, her hands flying to her mouth.

Mike staggered toward her, your weight heavy in his arms but his grip unwavering. His face was a mess of dirt and tears, his eyes wide and brimming with desperation. "He's hurt," he choked out, his voice cracking. "I need—I need you to help me. He's bleeding—there's so much blood—“

Sam's gaze dropped slightly, catching the crimson stain that had spread across your neck and chest. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Tears welled in her eyes and she reached out a trembling hand toward you, then froze, as if afraid to touch you and confirm what she was seeing.

"Mike…" Her voice was barely above a whisper, the words trembling as they left her lips. "I'm so sorry."

"No!" Mike cut her off, his voice raw, almost a shout. "Don't say it! Don't you dare say it!" His arms tightened around you, his entire body shaking as he staggered another step forward.

Sam blinked back tears, shaking her head as she took another unsteady step closer. "Mike," she said softly, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks. "He's—" Her voice caught again, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, a strangled sob escaping her.

Mike refused to look at her. He couldn't bear it. His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, his teeth grinding together as he forced himself to move past her. His focus remained fixed ahead, his vision blurred by tears as he pushed forward.

His arms ached from carrying you, his steps slowed as his knees buckling as the strength finally left him.

He sank to the ground, the snow crunching beneath him as he cradled you tighter. His tears fell freely now, streaking down his face and mixing with the blood smeared across his hands. His body shook with sobs, forehead pressing against yours as he held you close.

He was alone.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

The air in the mines was oppressive, a heavy, stale weight that seemed to cling to your skin. The walls were jagged, uneven stone, streaked with grime and rust from decades of disuse. The smell of damp earth mixed with the faint metallic tang of old mining equipment and the faint drip of water echoed eerily in the distance.

Every step you and Matt took echoed too loudly for comfort, the crunch of loose gravel beneath your feet magnified by the stillness around you. The occasional distant screech, sharp and unnatural, set your nerves on edge, each sound ricocheting through the tunnels like a cruel reminder that you weren't alone.

The only thing keeping you grounded was Matt's presence at your side. His arm was wrapped securely around your waist, his touch firm yet gentle as he guided you along the uneven path. He flinched in sync with you at every strange noise, his grip tightening instinctively.

"What even is that sound?" you whispered, your voice trembling as you glanced over your shoulder.

Matt glanced at you, his face pale but calm, the corner of his mouth twitching in an attempt at a reassuring smile. "Probably just a bat," he said, his voice low but steady. "Or maybe a rat."

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "You don't sound very convinced."

He let out a nervous chuckle, his eyes darting briefly toward the ceiling before returning to the path ahead. "I don’t really what animals could live in those mines. I'm doing my best here."

The faint humor in his tone brought a small, fleeting smile to your lips. "Well, your best is doing wonders for my nerves," you teased, leaning slightly into him as you walked

Sensing your unease, Matt cleared his throat softly. "So," he began, his voice a little too loud in the stillness, "when we get out of here… what's the first thing you wanna do?"

You glanced at him, the earnestness in his voice pulling your attention away from the oppressive atmosphere of the mines. "The first thing?" you asked, tilting your head in thought. "I don't know. Probably sleep for a week. Maybe a month."

Matt chuckled, the sound warm and genuine despite the tension in his body. "Solid choice," he said. "But, uh, I was thinking more like… what's the plan after all this?"

You shrugged slightly, your steps faltering as the uneven ground shifted beneath you. Matt steadied you immediately, his grip tightening as he slowed his pace to match yours. "I haven't really thought about it," you admitted. "What about you?"

He hesitated, his gaze fixed firmly on the path ahead. "I mean… I guess I've thought about it. A little."

"Yeah?" you prompted, glancing at him curiously. "What's the plan, Matt? Gonna be a world-famous athlete or something?"

He laughed softly at that. "Not exactly," he said, his voice quieter now. "I just… I don't know. I wanna settle down, I guess."

"Settle down?" you repeated, your brow furrowing slightly.

"Yeah," he said quickly, his tone almost defensive. "Not like… right away or anything. I just… I want a life. A normal one. You know? Just me and the people I care about"

You smiled faintly, touched by the sincerity in his voice. "That doesn't sound so bad," you said softly.

Matt nodded, his grip on you relaxing slightly. "Yeah," he said, his voice gaining a little more confidence. "And… I mean, I was kinda hoping you'd, uh, be part of that."

His words hung in the air for a moment, the faint sound of dripping water in the distance the only thing breaking the silence. You turned your head to look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the nervous, almost shy expression on his face.

"Me?" you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Yeah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. "I mean… if you'd want to. I just… I've been thinking about it. A lot. And, uh…" He trailed off, stretching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Never mind. It's stupid."

"Matt," you said gently, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him fully. He froze, his eyes darting between yours as if bracing himself for some kind of rejection. "That's not stupid, it’s perfect." You said, your voice soft but steady.

His lips parted slightly, his expression shifting to one of cautious hope. The relief on his face was instant, his shoulders relaxing as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice soft and full of vulnerability.

"Yeah," you replied, leaning into him just slightly. "I'd like that. A lot."

His smile then was brighter than you'd ever seen it, his eyes shining with a mix of relief and happiness that made your chest ache in the best way.

The cold, damp air of the mines clung to your skin as you and Matt continued walking. The faint, uneven glow of the torches lining the walls provided little relief from the oppressive darkness, their flickering light casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to shift with every step. The tunnels stretched endlessly ahead of you, the sense of direction you'd clung to slowly slipping away the deeper you ventured.

Your nerves prickled with unease as you glanced back, there was a trail of blood you were leaving behind. Your hands throbbed relentlessly, the jagged pieces of glass embedded in your skin after crashing against the window at the tower. The cuts were deep, fresh and unforgiving, the torn flesh around them pale and bloodied.

With a quiet sigh, you slowed your pace, your focus shifting to your hands as you tried to pluck out another shard. You thought you had already removed all of them when you dropped down here in the mines. The sharp sting made you hiss in pain and Matt's head snapped toward you instantly, his body tensing.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with concern as he stepped closer. His eyes flickered to your hands. "What are you doing? You're just gonna make it worse."

"I have to get it out," you murmured, wincing as another shard shifted under your skin. "It's not that bad."

Matt frowned, his brow furrowing as he gently took your hands in his. His larger, warmer hands engulfed yours completely, his touch firm but careful as he turned them over to inspect the damage. "Not that bad?" he repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Your hands are freezing and you're still bleeding."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the sharp look in his eyes stopped you. He sighed softly, his shoulders relaxing as he shifted his grip to cradle your hands more gently. "Come on," he said, his voice soft but steady. "I think I hear water up ahead."

You blinked, glancing at him in surprise. "Water?"

He nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah. Let's check it out, okay? We've gotta do something about these cuts."

Without waiting for your response, he began leading you forward, his hand sliding down to your wrist to guide you carefully through the uneven tunnel. The sound of trickling water grew louder with every step, a soothing, rhythmic sound that echoed softly through the cavern. Soon, the tunnel opened into a small chamber, the faint glimmer of wet stone catching the dim torchlight. A narrow stream of water fell from the ceiling in a delicate cascade, pooling into a shallow basin before trickling down along the path.

The air in the chamber was cooler, carrying the faint, mineral scent of fresh water. The steady sound of the stream was oddly calming, a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the tunnels you'd left behind. The soft glimmer of the water as it trickled down the uneven rock walls created a sense of serenity amidst the chaos.

Matt led you toward the stream, his movements careful as he guided you to the edge of the small cascade. "Here," he said softly, crouching slightly to inspect the flow. "It's not perfect, but it's all we've got right now. Better than leaving those cuts open," he replied, his voice gentle but firm.

You sighed, nodding as you crouched beside him and extended your hands toward the stream. The moment the icy water touched your skin, you hissed softly, the cold stinging against the open wounds. The water ran clear at first, then turned faintly pink as it carried away the blood from your cuts. Tiny shards of glass loosened under the gentle pressure of the stream, clinking softly as they fell to the ground.

When the flow began to slow, Matt pulled back slightly, reaching for the hem of his jacket. Without hesitation, he tore a strip of fabric from the bottom, the faint sound of ripping cloth breaking the silence. He carefully wrapped the makeshift bandage around your hands, his fingers working quickly but gently to secure the fabric in place

"There," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he finished tying the bandage. His hands lingered on yours for a moment, his thumbs brushing lightly over the back of your knuckles. Then, without a word, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your bandaged hands, his lips warm against the cold fabric.

Your chest tightened at the gesture, and you felt a faint blush creep into your cheeks. Matt straightened, his gaze meeting yours with a softness that made your heart ache in the best way. "Better?" he asked quietly, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. Much better."

The corners of his mouth lifted in a faint smile, relief flickering in his eyes. You stepped forward before he could say anything else, leaning in to press your lips against his. His breath hitched slightly in surprise, but he didn't hesitate. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the lingering chill in the air.

The kiss deepened, his hands tightening slightly against your back as he held you close to let you feel the steady rhythm of his heart against yours. When you finally pulled away, breathless but smiling, his gaze lingered on yours, his expression filled with a quiet, unspoken promise.

"Thanks," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Matt smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your side as he leaned his forehead gently against yours. "Always," he replied, his voice steady and full of warmth.

The stream of water trickled steadily along the uneven ground, glinting faintly in the dim light from the torches overhead. You and Matt had followed its path for what felt like an eternity, the sound of water the only constant in the suffocating silence of the mines. Your heart leapt when you saw a faint glimmer of light piercing through a jagged crack in the wall ahead. It wasn't much, just a thin sliver of hope, but it was enough to send a flicker of relief through your chest.

Matt followed your gaze, his eyes narrowing as he studied the gap. "It could lead somewhere safer," He trailed off, frowning slightly.

"Or it could be another dead end," you finished for him, your voice heavy with doubt.

Matt glanced at you, his expression softening. He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'll check it out. Stay here, okay?"

"What?" you said quickly, panic bubbling up in your chest. "No. Matt, you don't know what's on the other side. It could be dangerous—"

"Which is exactly why I should go first," he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "I'll just look around, make sure it's safe. I'll be right back."

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already crouching down, peering through the narrow gap.

"Matt, wait—" you started, but he had already slipped through the crack, disappearing into the faint light beyond.

The air in the mines felt colder, heavier, as you stood near the crack in the wall.

You hugged your arms tightly to your chest, the makeshift bandages Matt had tied around your hands now damp with blood that refused to stop. The faint rustling sound of your jacket fabric seemed unbearably loud in the oppressive silence. Your fingers curled into fists, the pressure against your cuts sending a sharp pang up your arms, but you barely noticed.

"Matt," you called softly, your voice trembling as it echoed faintly in the cavern. The sound seemed to dissolve into the stillness, swallowed by the darkness.

No answer.

Your chest tightened, the absence of his response gnawing at your nerves. It felt like hours had passed, even though you knew it had only been a few minutes. The faint light from the other side of the crack flickered as if mocking your unease.

From the depths of the tunnel behind you heard a faint and soft, almost imperceptible scuffle, like something shifting against the stone. You spun instinctively, your breath catching in your throat as you stared into the pitch-black void. Your flashlight was useless now, its beam long since dimmed and the torches lining the walls were too far apart to offer any real visibility.

The sound came again, closer this time, a faint rustle followed by what sounded like a light scrape against the wall. The knot in your stomach tightened and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you from the shadows.

You turned back to the crack, your voice more urgent now as you called for him again. "Matt? Are you okay? Say something!"

Nothing. The silence pressed down on you, heavy and smothering. A sudden screech from somewhere deep in the mines made you flinch violently, your body jerking as you stumbled back a step. The sound was sharp, high-pitched, and unnatural, like metal scraping against metal but twisted into something alive.

You turned your head toward the sound again, straining to see anything in the inky blackness behind you.

"Matt," you whispered again, your voice cracking as you pressed closer to the crack in the wall. The stone felt cold and rough against your shoulder as you leaned into it, hoping to hear anything from the other side.

Then you heard a faint splash, like something stepping into water. The sound came from somewhere behind you, far enough away to be barely audible but close enough to make your heart stop for a second. Your body froze, muscles locking up as your ears strained to catch more. Another faint splash followed, rhythmic and deliberate, as though whatever was moving wasn't in a hurry.

The sound of your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, each beat faster and louder than the last as the splashes grew closer, slow and steady. The air seemed to thicken around you, pressing down on your lungs as you struggled to breathe.

Still no response from Matt.

The splashes stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that was somehow worse. The absence of sound felt deafening, as though the entire mine was holding its breath. You turned slowly, your eyes wide as you searched the darkness behind you, your body trembling with fear.

And then, faintly, you saw movement in the distance. A shadow shifting against the faint torchlight, too quick and too deliberate to be your imagination. Your breath caught, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you pressed your back against the wall.

You turned your head toward it again, desperation rising in your chest. "Matt!" you called, louder this time, your voice breaking.

Your voice echoed sharply, bouncing off the walls before dissolving into the void. You waited, your heart pounding so loudly you thought it might drown out any response. Seconds stretched into eternity, the silence between each heartbeat suffocating.

And then, faintly, from the other side of the crack, came Matt's voice, low and hurried. "I'm here. I'm okay. You can come in."

The moment Matt's voice called for you from the other side of the crack, signaling that it was safe, you didn't hesitate. You dropped to your hands and knees and began crawling through the jagged crack as fast as you could, ignoring the sharp sting of your hands pressing against the rough stone.

The screech behind you grew louder. Panic gripped you as you crawled faster.

When you finally reached the other side, your eyes met Matt's worried face. His hand extended immediately, gripping yours tightly in his strong, warm grasp and pulling you through the crack. The instant you were free, his arm slipped around your waist to steady you as you jumped down to the lower ground.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern as his eyes searched your face for any sign of injury.

You nodded, breathless but grateful, and his expression softened slightly. The warmth of his touch helped ease some of the tension in your chest, though the eerie echo of the screech behind you lingered in your mind.

Matt glanced toward a small wooden table nearby, where an old, rusted lantern and a lighter sat. He picked up the lighter and sparked the flame. The sudden glow from the lantern illuminated the small chamber around you, the walls damp and uneven, with thick roots snaking down from the ceiling.

Matt turned back to you, the lantern casting soft shadows across his face. Не opened his mouth to suggest moving down the path ahead, but then his expression changed. His brows furrowed, eyes widening as he focused on something behind you.

"Get down!" he yelled, his voice sharp and urgent.

Before you could react, he lunged forward, stepping between you and whatever was behind you. The crack of wood splintering filled the air, followed by a scream of pain as Matt blocked the strike with his arm. The shattered remains of a shovel clattered to the ground as a figure stumbled backward and screamed in agony.

"Jess? Is that you?”

Her green, torn jacket hung loosely around her thin frame, patched together haphazardly with strips of fabric and grime. Her blonde hair, usually vibrant, was matted and streaked with dirt, clinging to her pale skin. Dark circles framed her sunken eyes, which darted nervously around the room. Her lips were cracked and bloodied and her movements were stiff, her entire body trembling as though every step was an effort.

Her jeans were shredded at the knees, revealing deep gashes and bruises on her legs, shoulders visibly swollen and discolored.

Matt's face twisted in concern as he stepped closer, his voice softening. "Jesus, Jess. What the hell happened to you? How the fuck are you still alive?”

Jessica’s body tense as she tried to stay on her feet, the pain in her arm made her wince and drop them back to her sides. Her lips trembled as she looked at him, recognition slowly dawning in her tired eyes. "Yeah…" she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible.

"Jess, I need to tell you something and I don't want to freak you out, but there's someone up here in the mountain trying to kill all of us," he said gently.

Jessica shook her head weakly, her knees buckling slightly as she struggled to stay upright. "It’s not someone—" she began, her voice cracking. "It came after me!"

Her gaze flickered to you, then back to Matt, her expression filled with a mix of fear and desperation. "It fucking pulled me down here in this nightmare!" she whispered, her voice trembling as tears welled in her eyes. "Oh, god…"

Her words sent a chill racing down your spine, and you exchanged a worried glance with Matt. He stepped closer to her, his hand hovering near her shoulder as if afraid to touch her in case it caused her more pain. "Can you move?"

Jessica gripped her sides tightly, her body trembling as though the memory alone was unbearable. "I don't know," she whimpered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Yes..:"

You stepped forward instinctively, your concern outweighing your fear, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. She flinched at first but then leaned into you, her body sagging against yours as if the effort of standing was too much to bear.

She buried her face against your chest, her sobs quiet but filled with raw pain as her good arm clung to you weakly. You wrapped your arm around her shoulders, holding her steady as you looked back at Matt, your expression filled with worry.

Jessica's grip on you tightened slightly and you felt her body tremble against you. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"What do we do?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling slightly.

Matt's jaw clenched as he looked at Jessica, his concern for her evident in the way his hands hovered near her, wanting to help but unsure how. "We get out of here," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension in his body.

With Jessica leaning heavily against you and Matt's protective presence at your side, the three of you began moving forward.

The mines stretched on in dark, twisting paths that seemed to lead nowhere, each turn a mirror of the last. The remnants of old mining equipment lay scattered, rusted and decayed.

Jessica clung to your side, her steps uneven and slow as she leaned heavily against you. The green jacket she found, worn and frayed, hung loosely over her thin frame, the fabric barely enough to protect her from the cold dampness of the mines. Her breaths came in shallow gasps and her body trembled slightly, her strength clearly waning.

Matt led the way, his shoulders tense, his head turning every so often to check behind him. The lantern swung slightly in his grip, the light illuminating his face enough to show the worry etched into his features.

The three of you walked in silence for a while, the occasional scrape of your boots against the gravel and the faint drip of water the only sounds. Jessica's arm tightened around your waist as she shifted slightly, her weight pressing into you more heavily. You slowed your steps to match hers, glancing down at her pale face.

"You doing okay, Jess?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Define 'okay’," she murmured, her voice hoarse but carrying a shadow of her usual sarcasm.

After a moment, you glanced down at her, your voice softer this time. "Jess… where's Mike? Wasn't he with you?"

Her face softened at the mention of his name and for a moment, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She leaned her head slightly against your shoulder, her voice a trembling whisper. "He came for me," she said, her lips quivering slightly. "He… he tried to save me."

You tightened your grip around her shoulders, your chest tightening at the pain in her voice.

"Have you seen him?" her breath hitching as she blinked back tears.

You felt your throat tighten, and it took a moment before you could answer. "No," you admitted, your voice heavy with regret. "Not since you two went to the chalet."

Jessica's face fell and she turned her gaze downward, her steps faltering slightly.

The silence that followed was heavy, you tightened your grip on Jessica slightly, the small gesture meant to reassure her and yourself.

After a while, she broke the silence, her voice softer but carrying a faint spark of her usual wit. "How long have you and Matt been a thing?" She began, tilting her head slightly toward you.

Her question caught you off guard, and you glanced down at her, surprised by the faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion etched across her face. "What makes you think we're a thing?" you asked, your voice light with amusement.

Jessica let out a weak chuckle, the sound strained but genuine. "I’m an expert," she murmured.

Matt, walking just ahead, glanced back briefly at the sound of her laughter, his expression softening slightly. "What's so funny?" he asked, his tone cautious.

Jessica smirked faintly, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with teasing. "I told him about all the times you stared at him."

Matt froze mid-step, his head snapping toward her with wide eyes. "W-what? i don't—That's not—" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

Jessica let out another soft chuckle, leaning against you for support. “I've seen it. At college or when we were all together.” She said, her tone weak but playful.

Matt's blush deepened and he turned his attention back to the path ahead, his shoulders hunching slightly. "You're imagining things," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Jessica grinned weakly, glancing up at you. Before raising her voice just enough for Matt to hear, she added, "there was also the prom. You know, when Matt got drunk and told me—"

"Jess, don't," Matt interrupted, his voice sharp but tinged with embarrassment.

"—that he couldn't stop thinking about you," Jessica finished, her grin widening slightly despite her obvious exhaustion.

You laughed softly, glancing at Matt, whose face was now buried in his free hand. "That true, Matt?" you teased, your voice warm and light.

Matt groaned, his voice muffled as he muttered, "I hate both of you."

Jessica's laughter mixed with yours, her voice breathy but carrying that familiar edge of humor you'd missed.

Matt shook his head, though you caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he led the way forward.

A screech came suddenly, piercing through the air and echoing off the walls of the mine. It was far too close and the sound made your entire body stiffen. Your breath hitched as Matt whipped his head toward the direction it came from, his expression hardening into one of worry and urgency.

"Move," he said sharply, his voice low but commanding as he motioned down the path ahead. "We need to go. Now."

Jessica flinched against you at the sound, her breaths were ragged, uneven. She was struggling, barely holding herself upright, but you knew she wasn't going to complain or ask to stop. She'd push herself until she physically couldn't anymore.

The three of you hurried forward, the soft crunch of your footsteps mingling with the eerie drip of water echoing in the mines. The dim glow of Matt's lantern barely illuminated the path ahead. Your heart pounded violently, each beat a deafening thrum in your ears as you tried to focus on moving, on keeping Jessica upright.

Up ahead, a broken wooden structure came into view. A few rotting beams leaning precariously against the wall, forming a narrow gap just wide enough to crawl behind. Matt spotted it first and stopped abruptly, his free hand shooting out to gesture toward it.

"Hide," he said quickly, his tone firm. "Behind those. Quick."

You hesitated for a split second, your stomach twisting at the idea of stopping, of not running as far as possible. But then Jessica let out a faint whimper, her body sagging against you and you knew there was no other choice.

"Come on, Jess," you whispered, your voice shaking as you guided her toward the wooden beams. She nodded faintly, her movernents sluggish, but together you managed to squeeze into the narrow space.

Matt followed immediately, shoving himself in after you and positioning himself protectively between you and the open path. His arm slid around your waist, his grip firm. Jessica huddled close to your side, her breathing shallow and strained as her head rested lightly against your shoulder.

Then came the sounds. The same crawling, scraping noises you'd heard earlier, but now they were unbearably close. Whatever was out there was moving along the walls, the faint, rhythmic clicks of claws against stone reverberating in the confined space.

Blood was dripping steadily from your hands, seeping through the fabric Matt had used to wrap them. Each drop hit the floor with a soft, wet sound, the dark stains growing larger with every second. Your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists, trying desperately to stop the bleeding, but it was useless. The faint coppery smell of blood hung in the air and your pulse quickened at the thought of it drawing attention.

The scraping and clicking sounds grew louder, closer. Your breath hitched as the shadows on the floor seemed to stretch, shifting and twisting like something just out of sight was moving toward you. Jessica whimpered faintly, her hand clutching weakly at your jacket as she tried to steady herself.

Matt's grip on your shoulder tightened, his arm was tight around your shoulders, holding you so close to his chest that you could feel his heart pounding against your back, "Don't move. Don't make a sound."

The noises continued, each scrape of claws against stone like nails on a chalkboard. Then, the sound stopped.

Silence.

It was worse than the noise. Every second stretched into an eternity, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure it would give you away. Matt's breathing was slow and controlled, his eyes scanning the path ahead. Jessica's trembling grew worse, her body leaning more heavily as she struggled to stay upright.

Your hands twitched slightly, the pain from the cuts throbbing dully as you tried to stop them from shaking. You whispered Matt's name faintly, tugging lightly at his jacket to get his attention. He turned to you, his expression hardening as his eyes flicked to Jessica. Her knees buckling slightly as her head tilted forward and he caught her before she could collapse fully. His hand gripping her shoulder, steadying her as she let out a faint sob. "It hurts," she whimpered, her voice trembling with exhaustion and pain.

You stepped forward, your arm sliding around Jessica's shoulders to take some of her weight. She leaned heavily against you, her breaths coming in short gasps as Matt signaled for you both to follow him.

Matt leads the way with the lantern held low to illuminate the path.

The scraping, clicking sound came again, but this time it was right behind. Your body stiffened, your breath catching as you glanced over your shoulder.

You saw it.

A monster. Its emaciated frame twisted and contorted, the pale, stretched skin clinging tightly to its bones. Its limbs were unnaturally long, each movement a grotesque spasm as its claws scraped against the stone.

Your blood ran cold as it let out a low, guttural hiss, its breath steaming in the cool air. It crouched low, its claws clicking against the ground as it began to stalk toward you.

You snapped out of your paralysis, your grip tightening around Jessica as you forced your legs to move. The three of you hurried down the path, the sound of the wendigo's claws scraping against the stone growing louder with every step.

It was too fast. You and Jessica were lagging behind, her injuries slowing you both as she clung to you, her weight pressing heavily against your side. She sobbed quietly while doing her best attempt at keeping up.

Matt's eyes landed on a door further down the mine. Without a second thought, he turned back to you. "Keep going!" he shouted, his voice sharp and urgent. "We’re almost there!"

He stopped suddenly, spinning on his heel and raising the lantern high. The wendigo hissed, its jaw unhinging grotesquely as it bared its jagged teeth. With a forceful swing, he hurled the lantern toward the creature. It shattered on impact, the liquid inside igniting instantly and creating a wall of flames. The wendigo recoiled as the fire licked at its skin, momentarily halting its advance.

"Go!" Matt yelled again, waving you forward as he sprinted toward the door.

You tightened your grip on Jessica, her body trembling against yours as the two of you moved as quickly as possible. Every step felt agonizingly slow, your legs burning with effort as her weight dragged against you. Your heart raced, every beat echoing in your ears as the screeches resumed behind you.

Jessica whimpered, her voice breaking as she sobbed, "I'm slowing you down, just leave me here…"

"Not leaving you," you said firmly, your voice cracking under the weight of fear.

Ahead, Matt reached the door, his hands fumbling with the latch as he threw it open. The faint glow of moonlight spilled in, reflecting off the snow outside. "Come on!" he shouted, his hand extended toward you, his voice thick with urgency.

You urged Jessica forward, practically dragging her the last few steps until you reached the door. You let go of her just long enough to help her through the opening, watching as she stumbled out into the snow and collapsed to her knees. She looked back at you, her face pale and streaked with tears, gratitude and worry etched into her features.

"Come on!" Matt yelled again, his voice desperate now as he held out his hand to you.

You moved to take his hand, but a sharp, searing pain erupted in your shoulder. Something cold and unrelenting gripped you, claws piercing through your jacket and into your flesh. The force yanked you backward, your body jerking violently as a strangled gasp escaped your lips.

"No!" Matt screamed, his voice cracking as he lunged toward you, his hand just barely brushing against yours before the wendigo pulled you further away.

Jessica's voice joined his, a broken, desperate cry of your name as she tried to get to her feet, her body trembling uncontrollably.

The last thing you saw was Matt's face, contorted with pure anguish, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Then, everything went cold. The wendigo's claws twisted sharply, and you felt your neck snap with a sickening crack. The pain was blinding for a split second, then gone. Everything went still.

The wendigo hovered over your lifeless body, its milky eyes narrowing as it tilted its head, almost as if inspecting its kill. Then, it turned its gaze back toward Matt and Jessica, its body crouching low as it prepared to pounce.

Matt's body shook as he grabbed the edge of the door, his teeth gritted against the sobs threatening to escape. He slammed the door shut just as the wendigo lunged, the impact reverberating through the wood as the creature slammed into it.

He fell against the door, his back pressing against the rough metal as the wendigo began to bang and scratch furiously from the other side. His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, his chest heaving as tears streamed down his face. The reality of what had just happened hit him like a freight train, the weight of your absence crushing him entirely.

His hands trembled as he pressed them against the door, his fingers curling into fists as his head fell forward. He gritted his teeth, a guttural, broken sound escaping him as he squeezed his eyes shut against the flood of tears. The banging continued, each thud shaking the door and sending a jolt through his body.

Jessica crawled toward him, her own tears spilling freely as she reached out a trembling hand to his shoulder. "Matt…" she whispered, her voice breaking as she clutched at him. "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry… it’s all my fault."

Her words only deepened the ache in Matt's chest. He shook his head, his jaw tightening as another sob wracked his body and he buried his face in his hands, his body trembling with the force of his grief.

The wendigo screeched one last time before the sound of its claws scraping against the door stopped. Matt remained frozen, his back still pressed to the door, his body trembling as his tears continued to fall.

For a long moment, he stayed there, his body trembling as the tears refused to stop. He'd lost you. He'd failed to save you. You were gone, ripped away from him in an instant, and the pain of that truth was unbearable.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

The room was deathly quiet, the only sound the faint howl of wind outside. Josh sat slumped against the wall, his hands tied securely, head tilted down. He hadn't looked at you once since Mike and Chris left. You stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring at him with a mix of frustration, anger and sadness that was almost too much to bear.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The tension in the room was suffocating, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down like a lead weight on your chest. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice low and steady.

"Three years," you said quietly, but your tone carried an edge. "Three years we've been together, Josh. Three years of pranking each other, of sharing stupid inside jokes, of dragging each other out of bed when we didn't want to face the day. Three years of being there for each other when no one else was."

Josh didn't respond, his head tilting further down as if he could physically shrink away from your words.

"And then, after everything we've been through," you continued, your voice trembling slightly as you stepped closer, "you let me believe you were dead. You let me stand there and watch as… as I thought you were cut in half by some psycho in this goddamn mountain."

Josh shoulders jerked slightly as if they physically struck him. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled sound, half a whisper, half a breath.

“You could have told me," you said, cutting him off before he could find the words "You could have told me what you were going through, Josh. You could have talked to me instead of shutting me out. You ignored me for months after Hannah and Beth disappeared, and I—I understood why. I understood you were hurting."

Your voice cracked slightly, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "I was hurting too, Josh. I was close to them as well. I woke up every single day hoping, praying, that maybe this would be the day they came home. And I wanted to share that pain with someone who understood it, someone who could help me carry it."

Josh finally looked up, but his eyes didn't meet yours. They darted around the room, unfocused and filled with something frantic and broken. "I didn't want you to see me like this," he muttered, his voice shaking. "I—I thought… you'd get it. You'd understand. You always do."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Understand what, Josh? That you were hurting so much that you decided to pull this sick, twisted revenge plot on all of us? That you let me think you were dead for hours just to prove a point?"

"I didn't want to hurt you!" Josh's voice broke as he shouted, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours. His breathing was erratic, his words tumbling out of his mouth in a frantic, disjointed mess. "You—you weren't supposed to be hurt! This wasn't about you, okay? It was never about you!"

You took a step closer, your voice trembling but firm. "But I was terrified. I thought I lost you. And after months of feeling like I'd already lost you, I thought you were gone for good."

Josh's breathing quickened, his shoulders heaving as his head fell back against the wall. "You don't get it," he muttered, his voice breaking.

You froze, your heart twisting painfully at the raw vulnerability in his voice. "Josh…"

"I love you," he said, his voice cracking as tears filled his eyes. "I-I love you. And you don't… you don't deserve to be dragged down by someone like me. I'm a mess."

He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and jagged. "Every time I looked at you, I saw them. I saw everything I lost, everything I screwed up."

You knelt down in front of him, your movements slow and deliberate. He stiffened slightly but didn't pull away as you rested your hand gently on his cheek. His breath hitched at the contact, his eyes darting to yours for the first time.

"Josh," you said softly, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "You're not a mess. You're just… hurting. And I get that. I get it more than you know."

His lips trembled as he leaned into your touch, his eyes glistening with tears. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You smiled faintly, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheek. "You don't get to decide that," you said gently. "And for the record, you're not problematic. Annoying as hell, maybe." Your teasing tone drew the faintest hint of a smile from him, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it came.

"Josh," you continued, your voice growing softer. "I care about you. And I'm still here. I'm always going to be here."

His lips parted slightly, his breathing shallow as he stared at you with a mix of hope and fear. "You still… you still want to be with me? After everything I've done?"

You nodded, your hand never leaving his cheek. "Yeah," you said softly. "I do."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Josh's expression softened, his eyes glistening with something other than pain. He leaned his forehead against yours as he breathed loudly to try and calm the chaos inside his head.

The chilling sounds from outside grew louder, reverberating through the shelter like an ominous warning. Low, guttural growls mixed with an eerie, raspy breathing that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Clicking noises, sharp and unnatural, echoed intermittently, each one sending a shiver racing down your spine. The wind outside howled faintly, but it couldn't drown out the unsettling noises that were steadily getting closer.

You stood up instinctively, your hand resting on Josh's shoulder as you glanced behind you. He didn't move, still slumped against the wooden pillar, but his eyes darted toward you. "What is it?" he murmured, his voice hesitant, fragile.

You didn't answer immediately. The sounds clawed at your nerves, each one more unnerving than the last. You stepped forward cautiously, your gaze fixed on the door as you pressed yourself against the wall for cover. Peering outside, you caught sight of it.

Far in the distance, a figure loomed in the faint moonlight. It was impossibly thin, its emaciated body twisted and unnatural, pale skin stretched taut over jutting bones. Its limbs were grotesquely elongated, ending in sharp, jagged claws that scraped against the ground as it moved. Its head tilted unnaturally, hollow eyes staring directly in your direction.

A suppressed gasp escaped your lips as you ducked back inside, your heart hammering violently in your chest. Your hands trembled as you hurried back to Josh, who was watching you with a mix of confusion and concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice still weak but laced with fear.

"There's… something outside," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's coming this way. We need to go."

Josh's eyes widened slightly, his confusion deepening. "Something? What do you mean—what's out there?"

You didn't answer. Your hands moved to the bindings around his wrists, fumbling with the knots as your own panic made it harder to focus.

Josh watched you closely, his body tensing as he tried to make sense of your words. "Wait—What did you see?"

You shook your head, your fingers trembling as you finally managed to loosen the bindings. "I don't know," you admitted, glancing nervously toward the door. "But it's not an animal— or human. And it's getting closer."

Josh stood up unsteadily, swaying slightly as you grabbed his hand to steady him. His mind seemed scattered, his eyes darting around the room as though struggling to connect the pieces.

The sounds outside grew louder. You tightened your grip on Josh's hand, pulling him with you toward the far corner of the shelter, but before you could take more than a few steps, the creature burst through the doorway with a deafening screech.

The sound was so sharp, so primal, that it sent a jolt of terror through your entire body. The monster crawled into the shelter on all fours, its movements impossibly fast and unnervingly erratic. Its milky eyes locked onto you instantly and the growl that rumbled from its chest was deep and guttural, filled with predatory intent.

Your instinct took over and you stepped in front of Josh protectively.

The wendigo moved faster than you could react. Its clawed hand shot forward, wrapping around your face with insane strength. Its claws dug painfully into your skin, silencing the scream that rose in your throat as your hands flew up to grab at its arm.

Josh's voice rang out, raw and panicked. "No! Let him go!" He lunged forward, his fists pounding against the creature's arm as he tried to free you, but the wendigo barely acknowledged him. With its other arm, it swatted him aside with terrifying ease, the force of the blow sending him crashing into the wooden pillar he'd been tied to moments before.

Josh hit the ground hard, blood spilling from a gash on his forehead where it struck the pillar. His head lolled to the side as his body went limp, unconscious.

You struggled against the wendigo's grip, your lungs burning as you fought for air. The creature's claws dug deeper and with horrifying ease, it lifted you off the ground. Your feet dangled uselessly as its glowing eyes bore into yours, cold and empty yet terrifyingly focused.

As you squirmed, your gaze caught something on its arm. A small, faded tattoo.

A butterfly.

Your breath hitched despite the suffocating grip around your face. The tattoo was unmistakable, its design identical to the one Hannah had on her shoulder. A chilling realization swept through you, a horrifying thought clawing its way into your mind.

Before you could process it, the creature's claws slammed you backward. The force sent you careening into the wall, your body colliding with a jagged, exposed wooden beam that penetrated clean through your torso. A sharp, searing pain erupted in your chest. Your body convulsed as the impact left you suspended, the wood pinning you in place.

Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, the agony radiating outward from the wound and making every breath feel like fire. Blood poured from your mouth and chest, soaking your clothes as your limbs grew weaker. You turned your head slowly, your gaze meeting the wendigo's once again.

Its hollow, glowing eyes locked onto yours, their unnatural luminescence chilling and unrelenting. But as you stared into those empty voids, something shifted. It wasn't immediate, just a flicker of hesitation, a stutter in its movements that felt out of place.

The wendigo tilted its head slightly, studying you with a focus that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

Your vision blurred slightly, the edges darkening as the pain drained your strength. But you didn't look away, couldn't look away.

For a fleeting moment, its grotesque features softened and you caught a glimpse of something that made your heart clench despite the agony.

Recognition.

Your lips parted slightly, blood spilling over as you struggled to whisper, "Hannah…"

The wendigo didn't move, but the faintest flicker of humanity seemed to ripple across its face. Its jaw twitched, its claws flexing as if struggling against some unseen force.

Your strength ebbed away, the pain in your chest fading to a distant throb as darkness crept into the edges of your vision.

The wendigo dragged Josh's limp body through the snow. Josh's unconscious form trailed behind it like a discarded doll, his face pale, blood dripping steadily from the wound on his temple.

It moved deeper into the darkness until it reached an open cavern. There, it dropped Josh unceremoniously onto the cold, damp ground before retreating into the shadows with a screech.

His body stirred slightly, his hand twitching as his consciousness began to return. Groaning softly, he blinked his eyes open, squinting against the dim, flickering light that barely illuminated the cavern.

"Where…?" he muttered, his voice hoarse, raw from earlier screams. He tried to push himself up, wincing as his head throbbed violently, the blood from the gash on his temple now dried and sticky. His vision swam as he looked around the cavern, his breathing shallow and uneven.

And then he saw you.

You were slumped against the far wall, your body eerily still, blood staining the front of your shirt and pooling around the jagged wooden beam that had impaled you. Your head hung forward slightly, your face pale and lifeless, arms limp at your sides. The sight hit Josh like a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs and leaving him frozen in place.

"No…" he whispered, his voice trembling. "No, no, no."

He crawled toward you on trembling limbs, his hands and knees scraping against the rough, uneven ground.

When he reached you, his hands hovered uncertainty, shaking as he hesitated to touch you. He didn't want to confirm what he already feared. "Hey," he said, his voice cracking as he reached out to gently cup your face. "Come on. Wake up. You're okay, right? You're—you're okay."

Your head lolled slightly at his touch, your body unnervingly heavy and unresponsive. Josh's breath hitched as he swallowed back a sob, his hands trembling as they moved to your shoulders. "No," he choked out, his voice breaking as panic and despair clawed at his chest.

He shook you gently, his fingers gripping your shoulders tightly as tears spilled down his cheeks. "Please," he begged, his voice raw and desperate. "Please wake up. Please."

When you didn't respond, a broken sob tore from his throat and he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping tightly around your lifeless body. Your head rested against his shoulder, your weight sinking heavily into his lap. Josh buried his face in your hair, his tears soaking into the bloodied fabric of your shirt as his shoulders shook with grief.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling and barely audible. "It’s all my fault."

He pressed a shaky kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he kept whispering. "Please," he murmured against your skin. "Please wake up. Don't leave me. I need you. Please."

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

The air in the underground tunnel was thick and cold, carrying the faint, metallic scent of damp earth and rusted metal. The faint glow of the flashlight in Sam's hand illuminated the narrow path ahead, the walls glistening faintly with moisture. Chris leaned heavily against your shoulder as he tried to keep up with the group. His twisted ankle was clearly giving him trouble, each step making his face tighten with discomfort

"You guys go ahead," Chris said, his voice strained but steady. He waved weakly with his free hand as the group stopped, glancing back at him. "I'll catch up. Just… gotta take a breather."

Ashley hesitated, her eyes darting between Chris and the path ahead. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

Chris shook his head, forcing a small smile. "I'll be fine. I don't want to slow you guys down. Just… keep moving, okay?"

You adjusted your grip on Chris's arm. "I'll keep him company. Make sure he doesn't end up wandering into a wall or something."

Chris let out a soft chuckle at your words, though the sound was faint, "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.

Sam looked uncertain, but after a moment, she nodded. "Alright. Just… be careful, both of you."

Ashley lingered for a moment longer, her gaze filled with worry, before finally following Sam and Emily down the path. Their footsteps grew fainter, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the tunnel.

You turned your attention back to Chris, who was already leaning against the damp stone wall for support. His weight shifted slightly as he slid down to the ground with a soft groan, his hand instinctively reaching for his injured ankle. "I feel like an old man," he muttered, trying to adjust his position.

You lowered yourself to the ground beside him, pressing your shoulder against his as you settled in. Your head rested lightly on his shoulder, and after a moment, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching on as you both tried to catch your breath. The faint sound of dripping water echoed in the distance, a rhythmic reminder of the strange, unsettling place you were in.

"You okay?" Chris asked suddenly, his voice softer now.

You nodded, though the weight of everything still lingered in your chest. "Yeah," you murmured. "I just… I can't stop thinking about that man."

Chris sighed, his thumb absently brushing against your side as he glanced down at you. "Yeah," he said quietly. "That was… brutal. But, at least it was quick. He didn't suffer."

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "I guess so," you said softly. "Still… he didn't deserve that."

Chris nodded, his expression somber. "No, he didn't. But he knew what he was getting into. He was trying to help us, and… I don't know. Maybe that counts for something."

The warmth in his voice made your chest tighten, and you offered him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks," you said quietly. "For helping me back there. I don't think I'd be here if you hadn't…"

Chris's lips curved into a faint smile, his usual playful spark returning for a moment. "What, saved your ass from becoming wendigo chow? Yeah, no problem. Just add it to my growing list of heroic deeds."

You chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension in your chest. "Heroic, huh? I'll have to remember that."

Chris's grin faded slightly, his expression softening as he tilted his head toward you. "Seriously, though," he said, his voice quieter now. "I was scared."

The sincerity in his words made your breath catch and for a moment, you simply looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, without thinking, you leaned forward, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders as you pressed your lips to his.

Chris froze for a split second before responding, his hand tightening slightly on your waist as he kissed you back. The warmth of his lips against yours chased away the cold of the tunnel.

When you finally pulled back, his breath hitched slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Wow," he murmured, his voice unsteady. "That was… uh, unexpected"

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing lightly against his jacket. "Unexpected good or unexpected bad?"

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head "Definitely good"

After a moment, he sighed, his gaze flickering down the path. "Alright," he said, patting his knees and wincing slightly as he shifted. "We should probably get moving. Can't leave the others waiting too long."

You tilted your head at him, your brow furrowing slightly. "You sure you're okay?"

Chris smirked faintly, though the strain was evident in his expression. "It hurts like hell," he admitted. "But I don't want us falling too far behind. Come on." He extended his hand to you, his fingers curling slightly in invitation.

You took his hand, letting him help you to your feet before steadying him as he rose. His weight leaned into you slightly, but he kept his usual good-natured demeanor as the two of you began walking again.

The air was heavy and stale, carrying the faint metallic tang of rust and damp earth. Cracks lined the walls, remnants of the mines' age, with wooden beams sagging dangerously, barely holding the crumbling structure together.

Chris leaned into you slightly, his arm brushing against yours as the two of you walked side by side. His limp was more pronounced now, his injured ankle clearly bothering him, but he didn't complain.

"You think they've made it to Mike yet?" Chris asked, his flashlight beam scanning the ground ahead for any obstacles.

"I hope so," you replied, your voice just as quiet. "I hope nothing happened to him."

Chris nodded, adjusting his grip on the rifle slung over his shoulder. "Yeah, me too. This place gives me the creeps," Chris muttered, his voice breaking the silence. "Like, horror movie creeps."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "We are like the two characters forgotten by everyone that will get killed."

Chris groaned, rolling his eyes. "Don't remind me. I'm already regretting all my life choices that led to this moment."

The faint call broke the moment, making you both freeze mid-step. "Help!" a voice cried out, distant but clear. "Please, help me!"

Your blood ran cold as the voice echoed faintly through the tunnel. It was Jessica. You knew that voice anywhere but there was something off about it. It was faint, distorted, as though it were being filtered through static.

Chris's grip on the flashlight tightened as he turned toward the sound, his brows furrowing. "Jess?" he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You gripped his hand tightly, your heart pounding as you whispered, "Chris… Mike said she was dead."

Chris hesitated, his eyes flicking back to you, confusion and worry written all over his face. "Maybe… maybe he was wrong," he said, though his voice lacked confidence. "What if she survived? She could be hurt."

The voice came again, louder this time. "Please, help! Someone!"

You felt a chill run down your spine. Something about the way the words sounded made your stomach twist. But the desperation in the voice, the raw fear, tugged at your chest.

"If there's even a chance it's her, we can't just leave her. She might be in danger." you whispered, your voice trembling.

You hesitated, your gaze flicking toward the direction of the voice. The call came again, more desperate than before and you made your decision. Without another word, you crouched low and began crawling over the rocks and Chris's voice rang out behind you, panicked.

"What are you doing?!" he hissed, scrambling after you as quickly as his injured ankle would allow. "Wait—don't just go running off!"

You landed on the other side with a soft thud, your flashlight casting faint shadows on the uneven ground. Turning back, you called softly, "She could be in danger, Chris. I have to check."

Chris groaned audibly, his face a mix of frustration and fear as he climbed over the rocks after you. He landed heavily on the ground, groaning again as his injured ankle took the brunt of the impact. You rushed forward, your hands flying out to steady him before he could lose his balance.

"You're ridiculous," you muttered, though your voice was laced with warmth.

Chris smirked faintly, his face pale but his eyes still sharp. "And you're stubborn," he shot back. "So I guess we're even. But if you think I'm letting you go off on your own, you're stuck with me. Deal with it."

Chris's breathing was ragged as he walked beside you, his injured ankle making every step a struggle.

As you approached a trapdoor, Chris suddenly stopped, his flashlight beam landing on something on the ground. He froze, his entire body tensing as his breath hitched audibly.

"What is it?" you asked, stepping closer

Chris didn't answer at first. Slowly, he crouched down, his fingers trembling as they reached for the object in the dirt. It was Ashley's beanie, its fabric darkened with fresh blood. Surrounding it were large, uneven drops of crimson, staining the ground in horrifyingly vivid patterns.

"No… no, no, no," Chris murmured, his voice breaking as he fell to his knees. His fingers clutched the beanie tightly, his knuckles turning white as tears welled in his eyes. "Oh, my god. Ash! No, no, this can’t be happening…"

You felt your chest tighten painfully as the reality of what you were seeing sank in. Tears blurred your vision as you crouched beside Chris, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

Chris shook his head, his shoulders shaking as a tear slipped down his face. "She was supposed to be safe." he choked out, his voice barely audible.

Your own tears fell freely now, but before you could say anything, movement in the corner of your vision caught your attention. Your breath hitched as you turned your head, heart stopping at what you saw.

The creature was there. Twisted and skeletal, its pale, emaciated frame barely visible in the dim light.

Jessica wasn't here. This was a trap.

"Chris," you whispered urgently, shaking his shoulder. "We need to go. Now."

Chris looked up at you, his tear-filled eyes clouded with confusion.

"We're not alone." You whispered again, your voice more anxious now.

Chris followed your gaze, his flashlight catching a glimpse of the wendigo as it moved. His entire body stiffened, his grip on the beanie tightening as he let out a shaky curse. "Shit," he muttered, his voice trembling. "Shit, shit, shit."

He scrambled to his feet, his hand reaching for yours as he pulled you forward.

You didn't hesitate, following him as he led you toward the path beyond the trapdoor. The wendigo's screeches echoed behind you, sharp and guttural, its movements growing louder and faster as it gave chase.

Chris did his best to run, but his injured ankle slowed him down, each step making him wince in pain. "Go!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "Just go!"

"Not happening," you shot back, your grip on his arm tightening as you refused to leave him.

The wendigo's screeches grew closer, its rapid, jerking movements echoing like a distorted drumbeat in the narrow tunnel. Your heart pounded violently as the path narrowed, forcing you and Chris to climb over a series of rocks to reach the other side.

Chris struggled with the climb, his breaths ragged as he pushed himself up with all his strength. You helped him as much as you could, your hands steadying him as he pulled himself up. But then he turned to you, his face pale and lined with desperation.

"Stop!" he shouted, his voice cracking as he gestured toward the other side. "Just go! Jump over and get to safety—please."

You froze, the hurt in his words striking you like a physical blow. "I'm not leaving you!" you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and fear.

You then saw Chris’ eyes widened in horror.

You didn't have time to turn. The wendigo's clawed, skeletal arm pierced through your chest from behind, the pain searing and unbearable. Your body jolted forward, your breath catching as the world around you seemed to slow.

Chris's scream echoed in your ears as you turned your head slightly, your vision blurring as you met his tear-filled eyes. His expression twisted with pure anguish, his hands reaching out as if to catch you, to save you.

His voice caught in his throat, mind unable to process what was happening. The pale, jagged claws protruded from your chest, glistening with blood that dripped slowly onto the rocks below.

Your body convulsed slightly, a choked gasp escaping your lips as your knees buckled. Chris's hand shot out instinctively, as if he could somehow catch you, stop you from falling.

"No, no, no, no!" he screamed, his voice raw and filled with pure desperation.

Your eyes flickered toward him, the life draining from them far too quickly. The hurt and fear in your gaze shattered something deep inside him and he surged forward, scrambling over the rocks with trembling hands. His injured ankle screamed in protest, but he didn't care. He couldn't care.

The wendigo let out a guttural screech as it yanked its arm free from your body. The sound of tearing flesh was unbearable. Blood poured from the wound in your chest, staining the rocks beneath you in deep, dark crimson.

Chris’s hands slipped on the jagged surface of the rocks and he fell backward. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through his ankle, but it was nothing compared to the agony tearing through his chest. He lay there for a moment, gasping for air as tears streamed down his face. His vision blurred, the edges of the tunnel darkening as his body shook with violent, uncontrollable sobs.

Tears streamed down his face as he lay there, his head falling back against the cold stone. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps, each one trembling with the weight of his grief. He felt like he was drowning, like the air around him had thickened and refused to let him breathe.

The way you'd stood between him and that thing, protecting him without hesitation, even though it cost you everything.

"Goddammit!" Chris shouted suddenly, his voice echoing through the tunnel. He slammed his fists against the ground, his nails digging into the dirt as sobs wracked his body. Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it have been him??

He didn't know how long he stayed there, curled against the cold, unforgiving ground, his body trembling with sobs. The faint sound of footsteps approached, but Chris didn't register them.

"Chris!" a familiar voice called out, but it barely registered. He didn't respond, his focus entirely on the rocks ahead.

Sam and Emily appeared in the distance as they rushed toward him. "Chris, what happened?" Sam asked, her voice filled with urgency. "Are you okay?"

Chris shook his head weakly, his lips trembling as he finally looked at her. The tears in his eyes made her stop in her tracks, her face falling as she realized something was horribly wrong. "No," he whispered, his voice cracking painfully. "No, it… it got him. I couldn't… I couldn't save him."

Emily knelt beside him, her expression uncharacteristically soft as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Chris," she said softly, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Chris didn't move, his body trembling as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. "I can't," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "He’s gone… it’s all my fault."

Sam crouched in front of him, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears as she placed her hands on his.

Chris's head fell forward, his body shaking as another sob wracked his chest. All he could see was your face, your eyes, your smile, the way you'd looked at him with so much trust and warmth. And now you were gone, ripped away in an instant and there was nothing he could do to change it.

Note: let me know if you had a favorite among the four. I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3 I’m also open to any feedback or constructive criticism you might have.

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castiwls · 8 months ago

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tolerate it pt2 - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt;

Requested; anon

Notes;highly requested sorry its taken so long.

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

In the days since Dean had left, you’d spent most of your time thinking. You’d gone over and over your conversation with Dean until you were pretty sure you’d analysed every single word a few times over.

You’d come to the conclusion that upon Dean’s return, he was gonna have a choice to make. It killed you inside to even think in this way but you knew something had to be done. Living life locked away in a bunker was nothing you’d imagined, nor wanted. Before the bunker your life had been filled with long car rides and late-night conversations whispered under the covers of old motel rooms.

You’d never bothered much about Dean’s protectiveness back then because you’d still had the freedom of exploring new towns and finding small hidden treasures. You’d loved the whirlwind of moving from town to town. State to state. Until it had stopped. Until you’d found yourself trapped in a metal prison.

By no means were you kept here forcefully. You could leave at any point but you didn’t want to. Walking around the same town on your own was only entertaining for a certain amount of time before it grew repetitive. While before Dean used to join you as you’d both explore the new towns, now he barely left the bunker unless he was hunting.

Even when he was here he’d always have a reason to stay behind while you adventured out for supplies.

Which is what brought you to now. What brought you to sit on your bed, a duffle bag in hand as you slowly worked up the courage to begin the task of packing. It almost broke your heart in two reaching from the draw and slowly opening it. Pulling out the first piece of clothing felt like you were poking small holes in your heart.

You loved Dean, you truly did but you couldn’t live like this any longer.

“What are you doing?” You jumped slightly at the voice, dropping the top you’d been holding. “Your back.” You quickly picked up the top before turning to face Dean who stood staring at you. His eyes darted between the bag and your open draw before back to you. A small look of fear crossed his face for a moment before quickly disappearing. You were leaving?!

“Sweetheart.” He slowly began walking towards you, his arms reaching out to grasp your own. “What are you doing?” He repeated.

“Giving you a choice.” You responded simply, keeping your expression calm. “You let me come with you every so often, or I leave. For good.”

Dean faltered for a moment. His grip on your arms tightens. “You..you can’t leave. Sweetheart why would you…no.” He shook his head as his mind raced a mile a minute. “I can’t keep doing this.” A small frown pulled on your lips as you softened your gaze. “It’s not fair on me. I feel useless here Dean! You never let me help anymore!”

“I’m trying to keep you safe! Why can’t you see that.” He threw his arms up turning his back to you before running a hand through his hair. “You being here is the safest place you can be.”

You shook your head. “What’s the point of this relationship if you're never here and I'm constantly sitting here doing nothing? I spend my time worrying that one day Sam will walk through that door and you won’t be with him!” Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you tried to reason with him. “I can’t keep doing this Dean.” You pressed a hand to your mouth taking in a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Either start letting me help or I’m leaving.”

You held your breath, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest as he stayed silent before turning back to face you. His heart beat in his ears as he considered his options for a moment. Losing you would break him, but seeing you in harm's way would also break him.

He felt stuck between a rock and a hard place as he stared at you. Taking his silence as an answer you nodded, pushing the tears back. “Fine.” You turned back to the draw beginning to throw things into your bag.

The feel of arms wrapping around your waist stalled you slightly. “Stay, please. I can’t lose you.” His lips pressed against the side of your head before he nuzzled his face against your neck. “We can compromise. I’ll teach you how to hunt but on my terms.” He turned you in his arms allowing you both to come face to face.

“I'm so sorry.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before repeating himself. “We can fix this. I promise.” You nodded slightly. It was a start. Him even considered the idea of training you was a step up from before.

“You better keep that promise.” You nodded towards the bag. “Or I really will leave, I swear.” Dean nodded before pulling you impossibly closer, his hand caressing the back of your head.

“I promise.”

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justinspoliticalcorner · 24 days ago

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Qasim Rashid at Let's Address This:

In an arguably unprecedented case on the meaning of free speech, a 42-year-old Florida woman named Briana Boston has been arrested and charged on terrorism charges against Blue Cross and Blue Shield health insurance corporation. According to the arrest affidavit, after BCBS denied her health insurance claim, Boston responded, "Delay, deny, depose. You people are next." Apparently, though Boston does not own a firearm, has no violent criminal history, and indicated no acts of violence whatsoever—this statement amounts to a threat of terrorism and mass shooting. Let’s Address This. Briana Boston has little engagement in political activism, with a single $1 donation made to a New York political race years ago. But like millions of Americans, she received the hurtful news that her health insurance claim had been denied.

When Lakeland Police contacted Boston at her home, she admitted to using the “Delay, Deny, Depose” phrase and added, “healthcare companies played games and deserved karma from the world because they are evil.” She went on to say that she used the phrase, “because it’s what is in the news right now.” Lakeland Police Chief Sam Taylor responded that, “[Boston has] been in this world long enough that she certainly should know better that you can’t make threats like that in the current environment that we live in and think that we’re not going to follow up and put you in jail.” But what actual threat did Boston make, especially when compared to the violence corporations actually and knowingly impose upon the American people? As an attorney who represents women who are survivors of domestic violence, I cannot count how many times a survivor sought a restraining order against an abusive partner, and could not attain it because despite past abuse, and despite the new threat to “bash your face in” was too vague and unclear. What makes Blue Cross and Blue Shield so special that they deny a woman’s healthcare claim and then get her arrested for terrorism because she peacefully and verbally expressed frustration?

Likewise, as a human rights lawyer who has also literally survived violent death threats made against me and even testified in federal court against the man who threatened to kill me, I have to ask—what about her statement is a threat? The phrase “Delay, Deny, Depose” is a common insurance statement, used for decades as official policy to actively prevent having to make payouts. And the results of this policy are not hypothetical, they have been punitive, deadly, and are ongoing.

[...] Class warfare against working people is when billion dollar insurance corporations can live by “Delay, Deny, Depose” for decades—even as their policies actually and knowingly enable tens of thousands of annual deaths—but when a working person denied healthcare merely says that exact phrase—it’s terrorism. The logical conclusion then, if we are to understand this, is that corporations ARE people when enacting policies that kill people, but NOT people when we demand arrest of the corporate executives who enact the policies that kill people, but ARE people again when a person repeats back to them the exact policies they use to kill people. Again, the hypocrisy is beyond glaring.

[...] Understand that the point of arresting Briana Boston goes well beyond her. The BCBS CEO knows full well she alone is incapable of causing any violence or harm to their corporation. The decision to charge and arrest her with terrorism for an innocuous statement of frustration is an intimidation tactic meant to suppress dissent and force compliance. I do not advocate for violence, but I do study history. And the history of every violent economic revolution is such that when the billionaire or elite class pushed working people to the brink of human desecration and berated them until they had nothing left to lose, the only people that actually lost everything, were the elites.

Throwing Briana Boston in jail for using the words “Delay, deny, depose. You people are next” while on a call made to BCBS over being denied health insurance coverage is overkill. Thankfully, she was freed from jail.

See Also:

Ken Klippenstein: Mom Charged With Terrorism for Health Insurance "Threat"

#Briana Boston #Health Care #Delay Deny Depose #BCBS #Blue Cross Blue Shield

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skipper1331 · 1 year ago

Text

One Day // Vivianne Miedema

a/n: based off this and this request - thought i could combine them.

"Good morning, my love" you whispered as your alarm ringed, the dutch never one to wake up by just an alarm. "We have to get up" your pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, knowing she loved it when she woke up to kisses, "No" said person grumbled while she tightened her arms around you, pulling you closer in her embrace. "We have to" you entangled your body out of her arms, one leg already out of bed as Viv suddenly sat up, "Need kissies" she pulled you back in, your legs resting at either side of her waist, "so needy" you giggled before you littered pecks all over her face, her nose scrunching in responds.

"Now i‘m ready to start the day!"

"Liefje" the tall woman called as you were in bathroom, ready to start your morning routine, "what do want for breakfast?" her head chipped in, her eyes roaming over your body as you were in nothing but her too big clothes. A slight blush covered cheeks while her heart fluttered, you never failed to amaze her by you just being you. "Smoothie? Maybe?"

"Smoothie it is" the striker left you alone, making her way down to the kitchen as you continued or rather started your routine. The smoothie was on the counter, already in a cup (your favorite) as you patted to the kitchen, Viv nowhere to be seen. Sipping from the straw, the delicious taste of your favorite fruits hit your mouth - Viv made the best smoothies. "Hm, you like it?" said person asked. "Shit!" you jumped, hand over your chest as you tried to control your breathing, "babyyy" you whined, "I almost dropped my smoothie" grumbling at her, the tall woman poked your cheeks, making you laugh, "i love your laughter" she muttered, eyes full of love as her arms looped around your midsection, "the smoothie?"

"was perfect" you gave her a peck or two, "like you" pecking all over her face. The dutch giggled, her nose scrunching as a big smile broke out on her face.

"Ik houd van jou"

"I love you too"

"Liefje, hurry up!" Viv yelled as she stood at the front door, your kit bag as well as her own in her hand. "I can‘t find my bag" your eyes scanned through your bedroom, then the living room - every room. Walking up to Viv you gave up, you had no idea where your bag was, the striker chuckled at your helpless expression. You gave her a glare, how can this be funny to her? With an ease she lifted your bag, waving it in front of your eyes. In reaction you snatched it away, "you let me search for it for 15 minutes, knowing you had it in your hand!" you growled, frowning like a child.

"You’re cute" the dutchie slung her arm around your shoulder as she pressed a kiss to your head, "now let‘s go"

Viv took a seat in the drivers seat while you sat next to her, even though you had the passenger princess privileges Taylor Swift music was playing the whole time on the way to the stadium. You just had to look at the shy girl and you would crumble and do anything for her. So meanwhile she sang to herself yet audible for you (something only you had the privilege to hear) her hand was resting on the bare skin of your thigh, absently drawing circles on it.

Derby day.

The blues.

Always a strong opponent.

The stands were filled with red and blue, fans were singing chants, both teams in the tunnel. Viv was behind you, you could feel her eyes on you, like always. Every match the dutch would stand behind you, it calmed her. Her eyes would roam over your figure, always stopping at your jersey. One day her surname will be on the back of it. That was a promise. A promise she made ages ago.

At half time the score was 1-1. Sam Kerr scoring the opening goal while Kim Little scored the penatly. The game was rough, Emma Hayes looked like she was about kill someone and a certain defender was targeting you, Maren Mjelde. Each time you had the ball you hadn‘t had it for long - your body hitting the grass every time. A little push or her leg in your way would cause you to fall. For sure, your body will have bruises tomorrow. Viv was the first by your side, asking If you‘re okay or what hurts. Slowly but surely the dutch was getting angry, how could Mjelde get away with it? No card - no foul. After the 8th time of your body hitting the ground Viv had enough - you didn‘t get up. Lia at your side while Viv was by the Chelsea defender shoving her as she cursed in her mother tongue. Most of the time, the tall woman was calm and collected but not when it came to you. Her patience was very short when it came to you.

Katie had her arms around the dutch trying to pull her away while Kim stood in front of her, pushing her away. Captain duties. As the ref showed Viv a yellow card, the same card Maren Mjelde finally got, Viv was by your side. Her hand wiped the sweaty hair out of your face while the medics examined your ankle, "is it bad?" you whispered, tears running down your cheeks. "I don‘t know, my girl"

Your ankle hurt and you were subbed off but in a few days, everything would be fine. With an ice pack around your ankle you watched the rest of the game, your lover not scoring once but twice. Her reply to your substitution - her statement: do not mess with her girl.

When the final whistle blew, the dutch shook every opponents hand, Maren being the last, "I‘m sorry" she apologized, "i didn‘t mean to shove you" It was simply out of the situation - out of her emotional state. She couldn’t harm a fly, even If she tried. At the end of the day it was just an intense game where no one had any evil intention.

It was important for Vivianne to have apologized. It wasn't like her not to.

Viv was one of the best strikers in the world but she also had her values and morals. If things got more intense on the field, it was important for her to clear the air after.

As it should be.

At the end of the day, every player was only human.

You were glad when the match was finally called to an end, ready to go home with your lover. Both of you decided to shower at home, it was already in the evening - you wouldn‘t leave your home anymore. Again the striker behind the steering wheel, this time with her hand in yours as she drove the two of you home. At a red light, she occasionally would press a kiss to your lips as she had not felt them against her own the whole time. Even though every one knew you were a couple, you would act professionally, only in private showing the lovey-dovey side you shared. Yet there were always loving glances and sneaky touches, you couldn't do it completely without - the love you shared was way to powerful and present to hide it.

The tall woman carried your bag inside as you patted after her, your ankle still covered in ice. "Take out, baby?" you asked while you snuggled your arms around her from behind - the dutch being too tall for you to rest your head on her shoulder "sure, your usual?" she asked turning around, her arms going around your shoulders as she craned her neck down, pressing a loving kiss to your head. In agreement you hummed in to her chest, tightening your grip around the striker. "Missed you" you mumbled as an exhausted sigh left your throat. Viv squeezed you, knowing what you meant.

You had missed her kisses.

You had missed her hugs.

You had missed her shy smile and blushing cheeks.

You had missed her.

"Lets take a shower" the taller girl lifted you up, your legs going around her waist as she carried you to the bathroom. She placed you on the counter, "is it okay if i take your clothes off?" she asked. In respond you muttered a tired yes - the dutch made sure everything she did was with consent. She took your shirt off, she asked If it was okay. She took your pants off, she asked If it was okay. That just who she was.

After showering and dressed up in some comfy clothes, the two of you found yourselves sitting on the couch. You had your back leaned against Vivs front as your limbs were tangled together. With your hair and body freshly washed you felt clean again, the striker behind you, ordering the take out while you searched for a series. As you decided which series you wanted to watched you nestled back in Vivs embrace as she silently massaged your shoulders. "Thank you, baby" you muttered contently, eyes closed as the voice of Phil Dunphy filled the background noices. Though, the dutch was sitting behind you, you knew that her cheeks were covered in a blush, her shy smile across her face. No matter how long the two of you had been a couple If you called her any kind of pet name, the girl would squeal inside, skin tingle, heart race, love burst.

When the food arrived, both of you took a seat at the kitchen table and while you enjoyed your meals, you talked about everything and nothing, loving glances and touches being shared.

Back on the couch, your head rested in the crook of her neck, legs tangled as her fingers combed through your hair in a manner to help you fall asleep. Pressing featherlight kisses to her neck, you mumbled inaudible words - the taller girl pulling you close(r). The series in the background long forgotten as your breathing evened out, soft snores hitting Vivs neck. Vivianne continued to watch the episode of modern family before she carried you to bed. She tugged you under the blanket like a burrito, herself laying next to you as she pulled you in her arms - she could only sleep with you in her touch, knowing you were safe.

"Good night, liefje, Ik houd van jou" she mumbled, pressing a long and final kiss for the day to your head before she settled in to the pillow. It didn‘t take long for the striker to fall asleep - dreaming about you.

Mrs. Miedema, one day.

———————

#viv miedema #vivianne miedema #viv miedema x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #oranjeleeuwinnen #nedwnt #nedwnt x reader #arsenal x reader

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forsworned · 5 months ago

Note

I NEED more Elias Walker content before I die😫😫💀

God Knows I Tried ft. Elias Walker

Synopsis: Your daddy issues are raging and your long-time 'victim' has been none other than your superior and captain, Elias Walker. After a failed attempt to capture and kill Rorke, you go to "comfort" him, but he seems to have other plans for you.

Author's Note: AND GUESS WHAT I WILL PROVIDE FOR YOU, I'M GLAD WE'RE REVIVING GHOSTS IN THE FORM OF DROOLING OVER DILFS BC LORD KNOWS I NEED SOME MORE MCDADDY CLUB LOVIN

Tags: NSFW, Daddy Issues, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Reader has long hair???

Elias ruffles his fingers through his silver hair after he removes his distressed and worn mask, setting it down on his desk as he sharply inhales. He hadn't gotten to Rorke on time and that pissed him off, and rightfully so. The bastard had been getting away every damn time. His body is tense and he feels as though his anger is brimming from within, bubbling to the surface and he yearns to do something about it.

So when you come rapping on his door, ripping him away from his inner turmoil, and he hears the pleasant sound of your voice through the small crack asking, "Can I come in?" He is more than willing to oblige.

His body completely faces you now, beaconing you over, and taking in your figure in your all-black tactical uniform. It fits you like a second skin, but his intense gaze shifts to your smooth visage. The moonlight catches in your teeth when you greet him. "Can I speak to you for a moment, Sir?"

He raises a brow at you. "Somethin' on your mind, Sergeant?"

Truthfully, you had no idea why you came in. You just found yourself walking back to his office rather than your bunk. After today's failure, you want nothing more than to comfort him. You slowly step forward, just a few feet away from him. "Was just checkin' on you...?"

God, you were so stupid. Checking in? Come on...

A flash of amusement etches into his features, he tilts his head as he studies your expression. "Checkin' in?" He leans his palms against his wooden desk.

"Yeah, I mean--I know this is something very close to you..."

Oh. My. God. Would you shut the everliving fuck up!?

He sighs and turns to the night sky. The moon is full, and its luminance brings a sense of calm to him. He chuckles at your obvious statement, but he doesn't chide you about it. Something about you makes the hardass in him a little soft. "Suppose so."

You swallow and fiddle with the leather on your gloves, waiting to think of something, anything else to add to the conversation, but your mind is coming up blank.

"Tell me, Sergeant--why did you really come into my office?"

Your heart drops to your ass, and your stomach does the thing. Not the hot-and-sexy-thing, but the oh-shit-I-just-got caught thing.

Elias is a sharp man; follows his intuition, checks every corner he treks, and was raised by plain-spoken folk. He can see through most people and unfortunately, you're most people. You wear your heart on your sleeve, your gaze lingers longer than usual and although it may not be obvious to others, you imitate most of his behaviorisms.

Where you used to take your coffee sweet and milky, you now take black. The way you now drink sparkling water over soda. Your go-to music is The Eagles and Creed over Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift (though you still did listen to them, it was seldom). Even your eating habits have changed drastically from avid fast food eater to health nut, although that seems more like a get in shape sorta ordeal due to your fast-paced, rigorous work environment. Either way, you have definitely been picking up on a lot of things that he actively does.

You avert your gaze to your fatigued boots. "I don't know."

"Step forward, soldier." He commands, and you oblige. Not because he commanded it, but because you want to be nearer to him. To take in the scent of gunpowder and the leftover aroma of his aftershave.

You're a foot away from him now, hands tucked behind your back, eyes forward. His dark eyes size you up, and you feel the sweat forming on the nape of your neck.

"Eyes up." His fingers tap under your chin and your lip quivers a bit when you meet his gaze. "You gonna tell me what's really on your mind?"

He taps on your chin once more. "And don't lie to me."

You swallow thickly. "It's not...appropriate."

He clicks his tongue and a half smile appears on his lips. "That right?"

You nod. "Yes, sir."

"I want to hear it."

But he sees the trepidation that overcomes your features. It’s been so painfully obvious to him. Your little crush. It was endearing, cute, mere puppy love, but he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t thought of molding your walls with his girthy cock. He usually tiptoes around it, but the mission from earlier is bringing on an itch that he can’t quite scratch. Not even a Playboy mag could get him right anymore.

He sighs. "You're not my bud to blossom, sweetheart." Brushing the strands out of your face. You tremble at his touch, yet you lean into it. God, he could do anything to you and you'd let him.

"But I'd let you." You grasp his hand. His eyes ream in surprise, but the building arousal jostles up his spine. He may think that blossom is not for him, but he's intently observing how your desire stirs, seeping into your veins. His breath spreads out your petals, the smell of your perfume permeating, intoxicating him.

Your lips part open and his thumb slips in, your saliva coating his gunpowder-stained skin draws an involuntary groan from him. He wants to devour you, but he can't. You're too sweet, too decadent, too fresh. He needs to take his time to savor you. It's wrong, but he can't help himself. Especially when you look up at him with those pretty, perfect doe eyes with his fingers in your mouth.

Your free hand palms at his crotch. It's intrepid, daring how forward you are about your fiery fervor for him. He cocks an eyebrow at you, but he doesn't halt your actions.

"That's a big weapon you're slingin' there, sir." You smirk up at him, squeezing his member over his trousers. "Can I cock it?"

He chuckles at your cheekiness. He wants to disarm you, wipe off everything on his desk, and throw you up there. And you'd be so easy to lift too...

But he's shocked when your lips lock with his, a dauntless action on your part. A subordinate fraternizing with her superior? It's enough to get you locked up, and dishonorably charged, but this wasn't the minor leagues anymore. You were hunting for bigger fish. Something that's beyond the crumbling American government outside these four walls. There's a spark between the both of you that you've been waiting to ignite in him, and he can no longer suppress his deepest hunger pains for his carnal needs.

And soon he is swiping away at the stacks of papers and stationery that lines his desk, hoisting you up to sit that pretty ass on his mahogany counter. A gruff moan escapes his lips as you collide once more, and you're practically clawing at his chest. His tongue slips between your lips wanting to collect yours as your teeth clash in desperate need for each other's solace.

His hands grasp at your wrists, slowing you down, wanting to relish in your taste, your smell, your touch, and the way you moan when he dips his head in the crook of your neck to sensually kiss at your sweet spot. Perspiration builds at the base of his forehead as he slowly unzips your fleece, revealing more of your skin and he kisses at your sternum. Your fingers thread through his silver hair and your breaths become labored at his hot touch.

He wants to build as much anticipation as possible before he takes all of you, all of what you'll allow him at least. Impatiently, your arms cross over your chest, pinching at the hem and smoothly peeling off the skin-tight fabric, leaving you only in your tactical bra. Elias pauses for a second. He loves to appreciate the finer things in life.

His fingers caress your disheveled plait from the top to where your hair tie keeps it bound and he gently removes it. You analyze the lust and admiration in his features as he carefully unweaves your hair.

You watch as his Adam's apple oscillates. "You're beautiful." He susurrates, carding his fingers through your hair. Your heart stammers against your chest when you notice how he looks at you. The rough pads of his fingers glide over your collarbone to the strap of your bra, and slides either side off of your shoulder to reveal your naked breasts. Your nipples instantly harden from the chill in the room, and he gulps before reaching out to squeeze your left one.

To say it had been a while was simply an understatement. The touch of a woman has been lost on him since the death of his wife. So soft, so supple. He pinches at your bud and you involuntarily arch your back and whine out. The guilt he feels dissipates the second his lips latch onto your nipple and you shudder as his tongue swirls around the sensitive skin. "Captain...!"

He gently hushes and kisses your lips tenderly, then your cheek, your jaw as he cops another feel, grabbing two handfuls of your tits while he sucks on your neck. One of his hands glides over the expanse of your abdomen, to unbuckle your belt and unzip your trousers--

"Dad?"

Shit, he left the office unlocked. But it's too late. His boys are stepping through the door, although it's not long before their eyes ream at your half-naked form, legs spread with their father between them. Hesh quickly shuts the door and you both glance down, feeling the guilt skulk into your minds.

"I should go--" Elias sputters, and you nod as you scramble to put your clothes back on. Now this was humiliating. Being caught by his sons fraternizing with their father is just the icing on the cake of it all. You straighten your hair and fix your collar as you begin to head out the door, but his hand catches your wrist bringing you back flush against his chest.

"Don't think I'm lettin' them scare you off." He caresses your cheek, with thumb and you sigh, cheeks still warm with embarrassment. "I ain't done with you yet, sweetheart. Got that?"

He raises his brows at you and you nod. "Yes, sir."

He kisses you softly and your heart skips a beat. "Go on, now." He gestures toward the door. "I'll deal with those two."

Your lashes flutter up at him and you feel warmth all over. He smiles at you, kissing your wrist and it's no wonder you keep forgetting to leave. His gaze, his aura it's alluring and you keep pulling back in for more.

He chuckles at the hearts in your eyes. "That's an order, soldier."

You straighten at his words and nod before rushing out the door, ensuring you hear the click as you close it and quickly get to your quarters. A feeling of heaviness weighs on your shoulders as soon as you shut your door. How were you going to face Hesh and Logan?

#call of duty #cod #call of duty imagines #call of duty x reader #elias walker #elias walker x reader #mcdaddy #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #elias walker smut #call of duty smut #cod smut #cod fanfic #cod x reader #x reader #x female reader

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i4longhairchris · 3 months ago

Text

No one's ever had me... not like you

bf!Chris×gf!reader

Warnings: just some silly smut! English is not my first language, pls be gentle!!!

Chris was driving with one hand on my thigh, more specifically on the part free of any fabric, as a result of my dress having ridden up a bit when I sat in the passenger seat. Ever since my boyfriend got his driver's license, my favorite moments have been in his car, alternating between rap and pop music.

Everything was perfectly calm, until Chris started a slow caress touch with his thumb. A shiver runs down the inside of my thigh and I bite my lower lip until I taste the metallic taste of blood.

All my doubts were confirmed when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sturniolo smiling like a fucking scoundrel.

He had been doing it on purpose since the beginning of the night. Testing me, probably wanting to drive me crazy.

...

"Earlier that night...

The living room was full of our friends. Some were playing GTA and others were just enjoying the drink and catching up, playing "marry, kiss or kill."

I was sitting on Chris' lap, who watched his friends play, being part of the group that talked about random subjects. My boyfriend had his arms around my waist and, from time to time, he would kiss my neck, squeeze my skin and whisper dirty words in my ear. Teasing me, as always."

...

We had done... things together, but I was still a virgin and so was Chris. I've spent so many nights imagining what it would be like to have all off him, just for my touches. Chris knew I wasn't ready, but that never stopped him from teasing me, whether in person or through texts.

But there was no one in the world I trusted more than my boyfriend and I wanted it so much, the wetness between my legs wouldn't let me lie. Why not turn the tables?

Chris loved to surprise me with dirty words and inappropriate touches, I could do the same.

"Chris, stop the car." I ask, with such urgency in my tone that Chris doesn't question it, even with his confused expression, and pulls the car over on an empty street.

He opens his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but I don't give him a chance to ruin my plan.

I take off my belt and sit on his lap, kissing him as if my life depended on it. It doesn't take long for Chris to reciprocate, his hands going under my green dress, moving up with his cold touch to my back.

I start to move my hips against his member, my hands intertwined in his hair. At the same time I feel his bulge, I feel his hands squeezing my waist tightly.

"Fuck, y/n... Are you sure?" Chris asks, seeming to read my mind. That was my favorite thing about the two of us, he always knew what I was feeling.

I smile and leave a long kiss on his lips, whispering "I've never been so sure in my entire life."

That's all Chris needs to hear to, with the prettiest smile in the world, throw me in the backseat, while I giggle in anxiety.

There’s not much conversation, the car has our heavy sighs as its soundtrack.

Chris gets rid of my dress and kisses every part of my body, paying special attention to the middle of my legs. It’s so delicate, sweet and loving.

He runs his hands over my breasts, my abdomen and reaches my panties, where he makes circular movements while kissing my lips.

“You’re so pretty, baby. Look how you make me feel. I’m so hard just knowing that my beautiful girlfriend wants me as much as I want her.” Chris brings his lips to my ear to whisper. With his free hand, he takes mine and guides it to his bulge.

“Please, Chris.” I whimper, searching for his lips, but he pulls away, laughing when I pout sullenly. Chris reaches to open the glove compartment and takes a condom out, which makes me laugh. “really?”

He shrugs and puts the package in his mouth as he takes off his belt and pulls down his pants. His hands are shaking and he looks at me, searching for a sign of approval.

It seems to last forever, but I know it's just the heat in my body from the need to have him.

Chris kisses me again, alternating between my lips, neck and chest, as he gently positions his cock at my pussy. I close my eyes and sigh, getting used to the pain.

"Is everything okay? I can stop! I don't know if..."

"No! Don't stop!" I plead, and receive a nervous laugh in return.

His movements become faster and stronger over time, I feel my body shiver and moans begin to slip through my lips and my hand searches for Chris's dark hair.

I always thought our first time would be a mess, but our bodies seemed to know exactly what to do. My body followed the movements of Chris's hips. We were in the same rhythm.

Our moans join together and form my new favorite song, until we reach the climax at the same time. My hands pull Chris's hair and his cold hands grip my waist.

Beads of sweat run down his forehead and his lips are red, parted. Chris pulls out of me, and we exchange kisses and “I love yous” like vows.

“So... are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?” I ask. Chris laughs, pulling me into a hug.

“Oh, baby, I'm bettin' on all three for us two!”

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo×reader #chris sturniolo fluff #i4longhairchris #spotify #chris sturniolo smut

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riaarivic · 1 year ago

Text

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 2 Clean

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary Three years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗 Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort.

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 4,8k

💗 Series index: 1 2

“The drought was the very worst, ah-ah. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst It was months and months of back and forth, ah-ah, ah-ah. You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore” -Taylor Swift

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

Your daughter, Hana.

Amid the rapid-fire questions echoing in Namjoon's head, his pulse raced as you introduced the unexpected star of the show—

Who had just barged into the already tense conference room.

Like a small– But charming tornado.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Hana. Baby, say hi; they will work with mommy." You said sitting her on your lap.

"Hello, I’m Hana. I’m Three years old.” Hana greeted, her innocence oozing charm.

She spoke korean.

That made Namjoon smile.

Cute.

"Baby Hana, do you know who we are?" Jimin asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She nodded. Did she?

"You are Jimin, Jk, V, Jin, J-Hope, Suga, and… Rap Monster?” Hana’s innocent attempt earned laughter from everyone.

Everyone but Namjoon.

He halted what he was doing, a sudden realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

She was three years old.

And she looked like him.

Too much like him.

“She’s so polite!” Jimin exclaimed.

“That’s so cute!” chimed in V.

“Are you an army, baby Hana?” Jin inquired, curious.

“No,” Hana replied. “I like Seventeen more.” Jin's shocked expression made everyone burst with laughter.

“Oh! But we’re cooler than them!” Jin tried to protest.

“I’m sorry; she has her interests, and right now, she’s obsessed with Wonwoo from Seventeen.” you tried to explain. But Seokjin was already about to get into a fight with a three year old to prove that, In fact, BTS were much cooler.

Not that Namjoon had a problem with Seventeen.

But he considered himself objectively cooler than them.

He stopped mid thought. Why the hell is he caring so much of what a toddler thought?

"Hana! Here you are!" A tall man with glasses emerged, breaking the charm of the moment. "We apologize for the interruption. Our Hana tends to run too fast. I am Eric Lee, Stardom’s chief financial operator and Y/N’s husband," he added, the unnecessary detail sending a ripple through the room.

The oblivious members resumed their excitement, but Namjoon felt like a computer crashing and about to explode. The mathematical calculations in his head were on the brink of causing a stroke.

If Namjoon's eyes could kill, Eric would be a bloody stain on the floor. Jealousy surged within him, a feeling he knew he didn't deserve.

But your daughter, she was three.

That meant you met this person around the same time you broke up.

You surely moved fast.

The Eric guy apologized again and took Hana from your arms to take her outside. She smiled at everyone and waved goodbye.

Her dimpled smile made Namjoon’s heart do a somersault.

The meeting continued as if background noise, but Namjoon's focus shifted to you, studying your face. That girl, she looked too much like him and nothing like this whoever-I-don’t-care guy.

It couldn't be possible.

He admitted he hurt you. But you would never do that to him.

Right?

If that girl was his.

You would have told him.

But he looked too much like him.

And he needed to talk to you.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2017💗💗💗

The conference room hummed with tension.

As the team gathered for a crucial meeting on the North American leg of their Wings Tour. Namjoon, the usually composed leader, wore a furrowed brow and an air of defiance. The discussion centered around their press schedules.

Namjoon's frustration boiled over as he voiced his stance, "I won't be a clown for them. We're artists. I won't subject the group to this circus. Where the only thing they ask us if we had ever eaten a hamburger"

You, seated across the table, shot him an incredulous look.

"Namjoon, we can't afford to cut the press schedules. If we want BTS to break into the mainstream music market, we need exposure. Press appearances are non-negotiable."

He scoffed, "Exposure won't matter if they don't take us seriously. I won't compromise our art for popularity."

The heated exchange drew the attention of the other members and the managers.

This was the third time this week.

And the main managers were starting to think if you were worht all this tenssion.

But you did get them an appearance on the three main late night shows in the US for their tour promotion.

So you two had to learn to get along.

The room crackled as you shot back, "This is not about compromising your art, Namjoon. It's about strategic promotion. We need the media to understand and appreciate you, all of you."

Namjoon's eyes flashed with anger, and just as the confrontation seemed to reach its peak, J-Hope intervened.

"I think it's enough. This is about the success of the group. We'll do what it takes to keep BTS in the public eye, and that includes press appearances."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the decision sinking in.

Yoongi, who had remained quiet, finally spoke up. "I get where Namjoon is coming from, but we have to adapt to the market. If this is what it takes, then we'll do it. And Namjoon, you have Y/N's support. She won't let us down."

You nodded, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The resolution hung in the air as the team grudgingly agreed to move forward with the press schedules.

The future of BTS in the North American market now rests on the delicate balance between you and him.

And none of you would give the other the satisfaction of a win.

After the intense meeting, you needed a moment to decompress. So you headed to the lounge to join the stylist crew for lunch.

The atmosphere was more relaxed here, a welcome change from the tension in the conference room. The aroma of delicious foods filled the air as you settled at the table with your colleagues.

As you unwrapped your lunch, the stylist crew delved into a gossip session.

“Y/N-ssi, Do You know Ha-young? She’s from the makeup team” You nodded. “She just confessed to PD-nim that she caught one-sided feelings with one of the members” the younger stylist said leaning closer to you “Bad girl. She should have known better”

“My money is on Jimin” one of them said and the others giggled. You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the girl who had just lost her job.

Their director was unforgiving.

Just like they have told you on your first day here. Having any type of personal relationship with any of the members was the cardinal sin.

Poor Ha-young, was going to be blacklisted from the industry, a harsh punishment for what was deemed reckless and unprofessional behavior.

Listening to the gossip, you couldn't help but shake your head.

The idea of jeopardizing your career for a simple crush seemed both reckless and foolish.

As the chatter continued, you found yourself silently reaffirming your commitment to keeping personal and professional boundaries intact.

That will never be you.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

“I am really sorry, doll,”

Yoongi murmured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening,” you admitted, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. You patted Hana’s back as she slept peacefully unaware of the deep wound on her mother’s heart.

One that you would have to mend.

To have the strength to raise a child…

By yourself.

“You know it takes time for him to wrap his head around things. He’ll know better, give him time,” Yoongi offered, his voice reflecting a hint of confusion and frustration with Namjoon's actions.

“I wish I had that luxury, Yoongi. But she’s here. She’s alive, she needs things. I can’t just go and say that I need time. She needs a parent… Both of us.” Yoongi sighed, understanding the gravity of the situation.

“I considered it, you know? Not Having her” your heart sank confessing this for the first time outloud “But, I guess I was selfish, and I resent myself for it. The selfish side of me wanted to at least have this. But she’s so much more than just us. She’s so special.”

“I can see that,” he replied, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You hate babies, Min,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“This one’s alright. She’s a part of you too. And that makes her special.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed, vulnerability seeping into your words.

“I know, doll,” Yoongi reassured, his tone softening.

“I don’t know if I can be a good mom to her. I can’t do this alone.”

“First of all, you are not alone. Second of all, you are the most capable, hardworking, and kind person I’ve met. It’s going to be fucking hard? Yes, I’ll not sugarcoat it. But you got this.”

“I want to punch him in the face so much.” You felt the first tears start to fall from your eyes.

“I know, doll. Me too,” Yoongi admitted, the unspoken understanding between you two creating a bond of shared frustration and support.

Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with both empathy and frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know Namjoon, and this is so unlike him. We've been through everything together for more than ten years, and he's not the type to turn away from responsibilities. There has to be something else going on."

Your eyes filled up with tears again, a mixture of sadness and anger. "I just don't understand why he sent his mother, with an envelope full of money instead of facing us himself. It feels like he's treating us like a burden."

Yoongi's expression hardened, a rare sight for someone known for his calm demeanor. "He messed up big time, and he needs to face the consequences. You and Hana deserve better."

"I thought he loved me. I thought we meant something to each other," you confessed, your voice cracking.

"He does, Y/N. I can't explain his actions, but I've never seen him act this way. Whatever it is, he needs to sort it out. Meanwhile, you focus on being the amazing mother I know you can be."

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Yoongi pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you, Y/N. We all are. BTS isn't just about the stage; we're a family and both of you are a part of it. Families stick together, no matter what."

As you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of gratitude and sadness, you whispered, "Thank you, Yoongi."

"Anytime, doll. You’ve got this," he reassured, his words carrying a promise of solidarity and support. The hotel room, once filled with the weight of uncertainty, now held a glimmer of hope amid the storm of emotions.

You’ve got this.

You had to.

💗💗💗MARCH 2017💗💗💗

They just got nominated to an international award.

Everyone else was celebrating their milestone.

But Namjoon just couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to.

He was happy.

For the first time in his life he felt like they were finally receiving the praise they deserved for their art and their hard work.

But the weight of their public persona and the fine lines they could never cross as idols in Korea, was growing heavier by day. And the endless possibilities of major exposure scared the fuck out of him.

They were on their six date of the tour when he felt like he was going to die.

The air backstage in Newark was thick with the aftermath of Namjoon's exhaustion-fueled breakdown.

You found him leaning against a wall, a cigarette between his fingers. He couldn’t hide the trembling of his hands.

"That's an awful habit you have right there," you commented, eyeing the smoke.

"I can say the same to you," he retorted, nodding at the Coca-Cola can in your hand. "What can I say, everyone picks their own poison." you smiled at him honestly. For the first time.

Surprisingly, it led to the first civil conversation between you two.

You leaned against the wall beside him, sipping your cola, the fizz providing a rhythmic contrast to the quiet.

He broke the silence, "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm just a puppet, dancing to whatever tune the media plays."

"It’s okay to feel tired sometimes, you know?" you offered.

"I do, but being their leader and their spokesperson. I can’t afford to be nervous or too tired," Namjoon admitted. "I speak for myself in these interviews. It is a huge weight on my shoulders to speak for everyone. Sometimes they might not agree with what I’m saying."

"Yeah, I reckon Panda Express being your favorite restaurant in America is a pretty controversial opinion," you teased, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Do you think they are going to ever take us seriously?" he asked with a laugh and a touch of desperation.

"They better do. You guys will own this industry one day."

He shot you a grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease.

"That is a pretty controversial opinion. I am a 'what’s your favorite American food' away from literally losing it," he confessed.

"You know," you began, changing the topic with a playful grin, "I think your controversial opinions are what make you more human to your fans. They love you for being real."

Namjoon chuckled, the tension dissipating. "Maybe I should start a blog—'Kim Namjoon's Unfiltered Thoughts.'"

"You might break the internet with that," you joked, enjoying the rare camaraderie.

As the conversation lightened, you both shared a laugh, finding solace in this unexpected connection. The backstage chaos seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of understanding.

"You'll do fine. You always do," you reassured him.

"Thank you."

As a friendly gesture, you pulled a small disinfectant from your pocket.

"Manager Sejin was looking for you; you better use this before he finds you. You don't want him scolding you for the smell." you said before turning away to head back inside.

Namjoon chuckled, taking the disinfectant. "Thanks, Y/N. For being here."

"Anytime, Joon," you replied, the use of the nickname a testament to the newfound camaraderie

He smiled, and the scent of the disinfectant mixed with your fragrance, like flowers in the air.

As Namjoon walked away, disappearing into the backstage hustle, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, it was Sejin, the ever-watchful manager, threading through the maze of crew members and equipment.

You approached him, noting the stern expression on his face. "Mr. Sejin, you were looking for Namjoon?"

He nodded, "Yes, he needs to wrap up the interviews and rest. The schedule is tight, and we can't afford any delays."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness toward Namjoon. "He's doing his best, Sejin. But he's human, not a machine."

Namjoon was about to walk to where you were but that coment made him freeze on his feet.

Sejin sighed, his stern expression softening. "I know, Y/N. I just worry about them all. The pressure is immense."

"It is, but moments like these," you gestured to the chaotic backstage, "it is good remind them that they're not alone."

He offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. "You're right. Well, let's make sure Namjoon gets some rest."

As you both navigated the backstage maze, you didn’t know he listened to the conversation. And he couldn't shake off the unexpected warmth that had emerged from the brief encounter with you.

The chaotic world of stardom was vast, but in that moment, a connection had formed—one that hinted at the resilience and humanity behind the larger-than-life personas.

Maybe you weren’t that bad.

💗💗💗AUGUST 2021💗💗💗

You had gone to a therapist when Hana was two.

The therapist's office had become a sanctuary for you, you needed guidance on the hard task of being a single mother to Hana.

She was going to ask the inevitable questions about her father one day. And you needed to know what to say. But no amount of therapy could have prepared yourself for this day.

Hana was smart, too smart for her age.

And when you came back from a playdate at her friends house.

She wanted answers to her questions.

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

You two were back in her room getting ready to sleep and you knew that question was coming.

You took a deep breath as you sat next to her, trying to find the right words. "All families are different, baby. Some have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two mommies or two daddies. Some, like ours, have a mommy and all your uncles and aunts. Isn't that fun?"

"It is fun," she replied, but the dissatisfaction lingered in her eyes. She had more questions, and you knew your initial answer wasn't enough.

And now she discovered kpop.

And she was obsessed with it.

You felt like throwing up everytime you saw him on your screen.

The bitter reminder that she deserved to know the truth. However, you weren't ready to shatter the illusion just yet. Telling anyone that her father was the leader of the biggest music group in history seemed unbelievable.

You knew how crazy you will sound.

Even your therapist had a hard time believing your story the first time you went to her.

But, your daughter was the living image of her father.

And you had shown her your old Big Hit contract for her to finally believe you.

"So I don’t have a dad?" Hana's expectant eyes pleaded for an honest answer.

"You do have one. He is living his dream, making millions of people happy," you stammered, your hands trembling as you combed her hair. Even though Hana was still a child, she sensed the discomfort and wisely chose not to press the topic any further—for today.

Later that night, as if the universe mocked you, he appeared on your TV screen. "I want to be a dad," he confessed to the interviewer, his smile was radiant as always. It felt like a punch to your stomach, the wine glass slipping from your hand and staining the new rug.

Fuck him.

He was a dad. He just chose not to be one.

The fandom even had the joke that he had a hidden wife and kids.

You entertained thoughts of shattering his public image, creating rumors that could strip away the disarming smile he flaunted. But the truth was, you could never inflict that pain on your daughter.

As the wine stain marred your rug, you vowed to shield Hana from the harsh realities as long as you could. But beneath your composed exterior, a storm of emotions raged.

Just for a little longer.

She will soon be old enough to understand.

But you didn't look forward breaking her heart with the news that her father didn't want her in his life.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2018💗💗💗

Everyone was tense.

The word disbandment floated heavily on the air.

After this morning’s team meeting things were pretty rough.

They were tired.

They felt like nothing was working in their favor.

Some of the members wanted a break.

Some of them wanted to keep going.

He had to remain unbiased.

You knew how unfair it was.

For him and for all of them.

Message from NJ: meet me upstairs. studio.

You knew what that meant.

He wanted to fuck the frustration away.

And you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to.

This was the riskiest thing you've ever done yet. You knew how dangerous it was for you especially. You were breaking your own rule and you were being careless.

You knew perfectly well what were the consecuences of what you were doing.

But you couldn’t get to care enough to stop you from hurriedly hitting the lock combination of his Studio.

His tired eyes greeted you. And a second later you were pinned to the wall behind you, hands everywhere and not enough at the same time.

And you wanted to ignore how much it hurt you that you were just this to him.

A relief.

“I missed this” he whispered against your lips. His tounge tasting your lower lips. Wanting to savour everything before devouring it all at once.

You missed it too.

But you were too stubborn to say it outloud.

And he was too, trying to pretend that he missed this whatever you had going on.

Instead of just you.

As always it started like a fight for dominance. His kisses carrying a hunger that transcended mere physical release. The urgency in his touch revealed a deeper need, one he was too stubborn to acknowledge.

Namjoon steps between your thighs and you can feel how much he needed this. His body is warm against yours as he lowers his lips to kiss down the column of your neck.

"You smell so good" you feel the soft breeze of his breath against your skin. And before you could reciprocate his words you felt the sharp pain of his teeth biting the same spot of your skin he just kissed a second ago.

"Namjoon-" a small whisper leaves your lips and a wave of conflicted feelings wash over his body.

He wanted to drown the world around you.

Where only the two of you existed.

And that scared him.

How much he really needed you.

He lifted you, his grip momentarily loosing his balance, and both of you erupted into laughter as you tumbled onto the sofa. "I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes holding a vulnerability that surpassed the laughter. "I'm just... I'm so tired."

His heart was breaking.

With a gentle smile, you cupped his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. "It’s okay, Joonie. Everything is going to be okay."

Your words rendered him defenseless. He was so tired of pretending he didn’t feel safe in your arms. He wrapped his arms around you and you could feel his body trembling with sobs.

He called you to fuck his frustration out of his system.

Just like you’ve been doing for a few months now.

But now on his studio floor he had a realization he wasn’t ready to confess just yet.

Everything else he had been saying to himself about you was a lie.

How he didn’t care; that you were just a passing crush. That he was too tired and too frustrated and that you both enjoyed each other’s company. That you were only good sex to him.

All of that was a lie.

As he kept crying and hugging you on his studio floor.

Both of you came to the same conclusion silently.

This wasn’t just sex; friends-with-benefits secret thing you had going on.

It was something much more complicated.

Something that could potentially destroy you.

The two of you stayed in silence on the floor, still wrapped on each other's arms.

That was the moment Namjoon realized.

He called you for sex.

But he just needed you.

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

A Battleground.

That's how the room felt like it had become a battleground of emotions, the air thick with tension as memories and unspoken words lingered between you and Namjoon.

He dragged you into a conference room. It had been a week since you had met again and they were preparing to go back to Korea.

There was silence.

The air froze between the two of you. Alone for the first time in three years, you imagined this moment so many times. You could almost play out how it was going to go.

Last time you were alone in a conference room he told you he loved you. Whispered like an oath against your lips.

Just like the one you were in.

Today he stared back at you, all his movements were calculated. As if he was making sure it was real. That the girl who was playing outside in your office was just a dream…

Or a joke.

It felt like a joke.

And you both were the punchline.

Namjoon's gaze intensified, the atmosphere heavy with unsaid words. Finally, the tension snapped as he demanded, "Is she... mine? That girl, is she my daughter?." His voice, sharp and accusing, cut through the room.

For a small heartbeat of time you considered lying.

But what was the point? He knew. He just chose to ignore it.

"Yes, Namjoon, she's your daughter," you replied, your voice strained, trying to keep a semblance of control. “Her name is Hana Lee.”

Two heartbeats passed before he spoke again. And you realized This was a Namjoon you did not know. The young man you once knew, was filled with raw emotions and always had something to say. Usually, he spoke way before he thought.

The man before you was a diplomat. You could see his mind working, calculating all the right words to say next.

He was deflecting, you knew what he was doing.

You trained him to do that.

He was controlling his real emotions and speaking like at a press conference.

“Lee?” His voice started to fill with an anger that seethed beneath the surface. Like molten lava fighting the cracks of a volcano to rise to the surface.

You were too civil, faking control and composure. And you both knew it was a matter of seconds before all hell broke loose.

"You gave another man's last name to my daughter" his eyes darkened in disbelief and you couldn't help but chuckle at his nonsense.

If he was going to be this cruel.

You could play the game just as well.

You both were used to tearing each other into pieces anyway.

"You weren't there to give her yours, so." your voice sounded even more cynical than you intended it to be “She has my husband’s last name.”

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

A sour chuckle escaped your lips “Did you expect a wedding invite?”.

He clenched his jaw furrowing his eyebrows. “I meant… the fact that I have a daughter.”

"I did," you shot back, frustration bubbling over. "Got on a plane for sixteen hours with a baby on my lap. But you didn't want to see me. You sent money and told me to stay away. What was I supposed to do?"

Namjoon's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't know what I’m talking about” You repeated, bitterness lacing your words. “Let me refresh your memory, shall we? Your mother and Sejin handed me an envelope full of money, told me to disappear." You were shouting now, you realized. You didn’t know when you started to shout.

All the things you have wanted to say for three years started to flow out of you like a dam that had just broken.

And the water would destroy everything on its way.

Starting with the both of you.

Namjoon's expression twisted in confusion. "I would never do that to you." his tone was accusatory now “I didn’t know. There has to be another reason.”

“And what other reason would I have to raise a child by myself? With no more than two suitcases and sleeping on Hyung-Joon’s couch for a year.” Anger surged within you. "Oh yeah. Because having an unplanned child out of wedlock would have 'destroyed you and Bangtan,' as your manager put it. Since you just didn't have enough balls to say it to my face."

Namjoon's features shifted from confusion to a hint of regret. "I... I didn't know. I would never have done that."

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing right now Kim Namjoon, but I’ll tell you something. It 's over. I will not let you make fun of us anymore” Your throat tightened and the tears started to itch your eyes. “You left me a letter, remember? and the text message after that. “I hope you understand”.” you said, mocking his voice.

He was about to speak but you didn't let him.

"They said you didn't want anything to do with us. And that if I ever came back, they would take Hana away from me. That I was just a minor mistake, an experience you just needed to have'' Tears were falling down your cheeks, you couldn’t pretend anymore. It hurt too much. "Riding the white horse isn't what you call it, right? And that my daughter was just the consequence of my own carelessness. That I should have known better."

“That didn’t… I didn’t”

“You didn't do what?” You turned your face to see the windows, unable to look at him anymore. "You can't just waltz in here and pretend like you didn’t know," you said, your voice cracking with rage. "You missed everything, Namjoon."

“Y/n” his voice was barely a whisper as you felt his finger touch your wrist. Electricity traveled through your whole body. “I was waiting for you, but you never came.”

“Bullshit”

“Why didn't you come back to me?" Namjoon's voice softened, regret coloring his words.

Your laughter was bitter, filled with the pain of betrayal. "You sent me away, Namjoon. I couldn't just come back after that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I waited for you at the hotel. I called you so many times that day." he said, desperation lacing his voice. "I waited for hours and you never came. Do you really believe that I wouldn't have taken responsibility for my daughter? That I would send her away? Send you away?"

He was close, too close to you now.

You could bear his presence from a distance.

But not this close.

This close you couldn't pretend that your heart wasn't reaching out to him.

"I don't know, Namjoon. When you have a child, a life to protect. You would do anything to keep them safe. From anyone and everything. Not that you would know any of that" The words slipped from you before you realized how low of a blow was that. But you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

"Because we both know what you would choose if it came between the group or us." You stopped and smiled at him bitterly "And I understand, Namjoon. I truly do. You were finally living the dream you sacrificed everything for. I don't blame you anymore for it."

"I understand"

And you truly did.

You knew how much he sacrificed.

He fought for his success with teeth and nails.

They all did.

And you knew how unfair it would have been to ask for him to drop everything for you and your daughter.

You understood him.

And that was the worst of it.

"I could never do that to you. I love you, and I always have," he said, desperation lacing his voice.

There were those words again.

Whispered in the quiet peace of an empty conference room.

Last time they were the mischief of a shared secret.

Today they felt like a confession to a crime.

You were about to respond when you heard a small knock on the door. Your eyes never left Namjoon's, the intensity of the unspoken words lingering between you like a heavy fog.

Namjoon stepped back, breaking the physical connection between you. He cleared his throat, the diplomat persona returning, but the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "We're not done," he said, a mixture of command and plea in his voice.

As the door creaked open, your eyes darted to see a petite figure standing there, a shadow in the doorway. Hana's eyes mirrored yours, wide and uncertain as she looked between the two adults. The air thickened with tension, the past colliding with the present in a collision of conflicting emotions.

"Mommy, who is he?"

Hana's innocent voice cut through the charged atmosphere. Her gaze shifted from you to Namjoon, her curiosity evident. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Namjoon's eyes softened as he looked at Hana, and for a moment, the hardened exterior cracked. "I'm... a friend of your mommy's," he said, his words carefully chosen.

"A friend?" Hana repeated in Korean, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She might be young, but she wasn't oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

She was smart. Even for her age, she was quick to understand the things that were in front of her.

Just like him.

You knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Yes, sweetheart, just a friend," you assured her, shooting a pointed glance at Namjoon.

The distance between you felt like an unbridgeable abyss.

Namjoon, sensing the tension, attempted a reassuring smile, but it looked strained. "I heard you like drawing. Do you draw a lot?" he asked, trying to engage Hana in a conversation that felt more awkward than casual.

Hana nodded, her gaze never leaving Namjoon. "I like drawing flowers," she replied, the tension in the room momentarily diffusing as she shared a piece of her world.

Namjoon crouched down to her eye level, a genuine smile softening his features.

"Flowers are beautiful. Maybe you can show me your drawings sometime?" he suggested.

Hana's eyes flickered between you and Namjoon, processing the complex dynamics in the room. "Okay, but only if Mommy says it's okay," she declared, a hint of protectiveness in her voice.

Namjoon glanced at you, seeking approval. You nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent agreement. Hana's presence had inadvertently shifted the focus, giving you a momentary reprieve from the emotional confrontation.

As Namjoon and Hana engaged in a tentative conversation about art and colors, you retreated to the periphery, watching the scene unfold.

The wounds of the past were still raw, the emotions tangled, but for Hana's sake, you found a fragile truce with the man who once held your heart.

The journey from enemies to reluctant allies had just begun, and the path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in the complexities of a shared history that demanded resolution.

"Y/N, we need to talk" Hyung-Joon reappeared at the door, his voice filled with urgency and you nodded.

You knew this shouting match with Namjoon would bring consequences.

And you felt for a second that you just stepped into the past.

💗💗💗💗💗💗

Well hello!

First of all, THANK YOU. I am so happy to see all the love this story is getting and it means the world to me. Every comment, like and repost I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

And now, some notes for context:

This story is inspired on real events and people. But it is not a real representation or is trying to say that any of this happened IRL. With that beign said I'll take some creative licenses and adapt things that happened to the plot of the story.

2. I fucked up.... math is not my thing guys. Hana is three years old not four. Im sorry.

3. We all want a supportive friend like Yoongi in our lives.

4. The story is written in time skips, but the main storyline is March 2022 'The present' And some dates WILL be changed for the story to make sense.

I'm really exited for you guys to see what's next!!

Love,

Ria. 💗💗💗💗💗💗 TAG LIST: @felicityroth @cuteipat @jjinjo @mochimommy2002 @amarawayne @canarystwin Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts #bts au #bts namjoon #bts fic #namjoon smut #namjoon #rm #bts rm

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