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pucksandpower · 4 months ago

Text

Royal Pardon

Charles Leclerc x Arthur’s best friend!Reader

Summary: Charles isn’t a violent man at heart, but when he saves you from being harassed while celebrating his Monaco win, he quickly realizes that there’s not a single line he wouldn’t cross if it means keeping you safe

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, violence, and injury

Note: a break from your regularly scheduled October programming because Charles just won the United States GP and that calls for a celebration

The music pulses through the club, a steady, hypnotic beat that thrums in Charles’ chest. He’s never felt like this — untouchable, invincible — as if tonight could stretch on forever, an endless loop of victory and laughter.

He’s just won Monaco.

Monaco. His Monaco.

The thought alone makes him smile, a small, private thing that he hides behind the rim of his champagne flute.

Around him, the crowd swirls in a blur of lights and shadows, everyone shouting their congratulations over the music, pulling him into hugs and clapping him on the back. Arthur is here somewhere, of course, dragging you along because where else would you be? The two of you are like shadows, inseparable since childhood.

Charles can still see you, just barely, out of the corner of his eye, chatting with a couple of Arthur’s friends near the bar. You’re laughing, a sound that somehow cuts through the noise and settles in the back of his mind. It’s a good sound, one that feels familiar, like home.

“Charles, mate!” A voice shouts, pulling him back. Max is there, leaning in with a grin that’s all teeth, like he’s just as buzzed on adrenaline as Charles is. “I swear, you’re going to be insufferable after this. Monaco, finally!”

Charles laughs, shaking his head, though the truth is he probably will be insufferable. But can anyone blame him? He’s worked so damn hard for this, pushing through every setback, every disappointment. And now, here he is, celebrating the win of his career in the only place that really matters.

He’s about to respond when someone else pulls him into a hug, a flurry of excitement and congratulations that Charles barely processes. He doesn’t mind, though. Tonight, it feels like nothing can touch him, like nothing could ever bring him down from this high.

But then, something shifts. It’s subtle at first, just an itch at the back of his mind, a sense that something isn’t right. He glances over to where you and Arthur were standing, but Arthur is gone, nowhere to be seen. And you … you’re not laughing anymore.

Charles’ stomach twists. You’re cornered against the bar now, a man leaning in too close, too aggressive. Charles can’t see your face clearly through the throng of people, but the way you’re holding yourself, tense and small, tells him everything he needs to know.

His blood turns to ice, freezing the euphoria in his veins. He can’t hear what the man is saying, but it doesn’t matter. The way the man’s hand snakes around your waist, the way you try to push him off with trembling hands — Charles’ vision goes red.

He’s moving before he can think, pushing through the crowd with a single-minded focus. The people congratulating him moments ago scatter as he brushes past them, their laughter and cheers fading into the background noise.

“Hey!” Charles’ voice cuts through the music, sharp and commanding. The man doesn’t even turn at first, but you do, your eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Charles feels something break inside him at the sight, but he channels it into a fury that propels him forward.

When the man finally notices Charles, it’s too late. Charles is on him, grabbing the man’s shoulder and yanking him away from you with a force that sends the man stumbling backward. “Get the fuck away from her,” Charles snarls, every syllable dripping with venom.

The man barely has time to react before Charles slams him against the wall, the impact rattling the bottles on the shelves behind the bar. Charles’ forearm presses against the man’s throat, cutting off whatever protest he might have had.

“Charles, stop!” You gasp, your voice choked with a mix of fear and something else, something that twists the knife already lodged in Charles’ chest. He doesn’t stop, though. Can’t stop. The image of the man’s hands on you is burned into his mind, and all he can think about is making him pay, making him hurt.

The man struggles, clawing at Charles’ arm, but it’s useless. Charles is stronger, fueled by a rage that’s been simmering just beneath the surface for too long. The man’s face turns red, then purple, and still, Charles doesn’t let up. His grip tightens, and he leans in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

“If you ever so much as look at her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and deadly serious. The man’s eyes widen, a flash of genuine fear crossing his face, but Charles doesn’t care. He wants him to be scared. Wants him to know that there’s no escaping this, no escaping the consequences of what he’s done.

“Charles, please!” Your voice breaks through the haze of anger, and it’s only then that Charles realizes how close you’ve gotten. You’re right there, your hand on his arm, tugging gently, desperately trying to pull him away.

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and sees the tears streaming down your face, the fear etched into your features. It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head, shocking him back to reality. The club, the music, the people — all of it comes rushing back in a disorienting wave.

Charles blinks, his grip on the man loosening just enough for the man to gasp for air. He’s still furious, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but he’s no longer blind with it. He takes a breath, then another, trying to regain some semblance of control.

“You’re lucky she’s here,” Charles says quietly, his voice barely more than a growl. He shoves the man away from him, watching with cold satisfaction as he stumbles and nearly falls to the floor.

The man doesn’t stick around. He scrambles to his feet and disappears into the crowd, no doubt eager to get as far away from Charles as possible. Good. Charles hopes he never sees the man again, because he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself if he does.

For a moment, Charles just stands there, his chest heaving with the effort of reining in his emotions. The crowd has started to notice the commotion, a few curious onlookers craning their necks to see what’s going on. But none of that matters. None of them matter.

All that matters is you.

Charles turns to you, his expression softening as he takes in your tear-streaked face. “Are you okay?” His voice is gentler now, full of concern that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You nod, but it’s a shaky, uncertain thing. “I-I’m fine,” you manage, though it’s clear you’re anything but. You look like you’re about to collapse, your legs barely holding you up.

Without thinking, Charles steps closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You don’t resist, you just sink into him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And maybe he is.

“It’s okay,” Charles murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe now. I’m here.” He holds you tighter, as if he can shield you from the world, from everything that just happened. And for a moment, it feels like he can. Like nothing bad can touch you as long as you’re in his arms.

You don’t say anything, just press your face into his chest, your breath hitching with the remnants of your tears. Charles presses his lips to the top of your head, a gesture that feels both instinctive and impossibly intimate. He’s never held you like this before, never been this close, but it feels right.

The music still pounds in the background, the lights still flash in a dizzying array of colors, but it’s all distant now, muted. The only thing that matters is you, and making sure you’re okay.

Charles pulls back just enough to look down at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “Where’s Arthur?” He asks, his voice still soft but edged with a protective concern.

“I-I don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “He was here a minute ago, and then …” Your words trail off, and Charles doesn’t need you to finish the sentence to know what happened next.

He clenches his jaw, trying to keep his anger in check. Arthur should have been here, should have been looking out for you, but he isn’t. Charles isn’t sure where his brother is right now, but he’ll deal with that later. For now, he needs to focus on you.

“It’s okay,” he says again, though the words feel inadequate. “You’re with me now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

You nod again, but this time it’s a little steadier, a little more certain. “Thank you,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the music.

Charles shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says, his voice rougher than he intends. “I’ll always protect you. Always.”

The weight of those words hangs between you, a promise that feels more real than anything else in this moment. Charles knows, without a doubt, that he means it. He’ll protect you, no matter what. Even if it means facing down every threat, every danger, with the same ferocity he showed tonight.

He takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the lingering anger. The night isn’t over yet, but he’s not sure how much longer he can stand to be here, in this place that suddenly feels too crowded, too loud, too full of people who didn’t notice, didn’t care. Charles’ grip tightens on your shoulders as he scans the room, trying to spot Arthur in the sea of faces. But it’s a lost cause — the club is packed, and he knows Arthur could be anywhere.

“Come on,” Charles says, his voice a bit steadier now. “Let’s get out of here.”

You don’t argue, just nod and let him guide you through the crowd. The bodies pressing in around you both feel suffocating, the music that once electrified the night now grating on Charles’ nerves. He keeps a firm hold on your hand, as if letting go might mean losing you to the chaos.

As you near the exit, the cool night air becomes a welcome relief, a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat inside. The streets of Monaco are quieter now, the party shifting indoors as the night grows late. Charles doesn’t stop moving until you’re both far enough from the club that the noise fades into a dull hum, barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

He finally releases your hand, only to immediately wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You’re shivering, whether from the cold or the shock, Charles isn’t sure. Either way, he holds you tighter, wishing he could do more, say more.

But the words don’t come easily. They never have. So instead, he just walks with you, slowly, allowing the night air to calm the both of you. You lean into him, and he can feel the tension gradually leaving your body, though you still seem a little too fragile, too breakable.

Charles isn’t sure how long you walk like that, side by side in the near silence, before you finally speak.

“Charles, I …” Your voice is hesitant, unsure. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”

He stops walking, turning to face you, his expression serious. “You don’t have to think about that,” he says, his voice firm. “I was there. And I always will be.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for something — reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just understanding. “But what if next time-”

“There won’t be a next time.” Charles cuts you off, his voice harder than he intends. He takes a breath, softening his tone. “I won’t let there be a next time.”

He can see the worry still etched on your face, the remnants of fear that haven’t quite faded. He wishes he could take it all away, erase the memory of that man and the way he made you feel. But he knows he can’t. All he can do is be there, to protect you, to make sure you know that you’re not alone.

“You’re safe,” he repeats, quieter now, but with no less conviction. “As long as I’m here, you’re safe.”

You hold his gaze for a long moment, and he wonders what you’re thinking, what’s going on behind those eyes that have always been so easy for him to read. Eventually, you nod, and some of the tension in your posture seems to melt away.

“Okay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Charles nods too, though a part of him still feels on edge, like the danger hasn’t completely passed. But he pushes that feeling down, focusing instead on you, on the fact that you’re here with him, and that’s all that matters right now.

“Let’s go,” he says again, but this time, his voice is softer, more gentle. He takes your hand again, lacing his fingers with yours, and starts walking, leading you away from the club, from the noise and the memories that he hopes you’ll never have to revisit.

As you walk, the tension between you both begins to ease. The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of the sea, and for the first time in what feels like hours, Charles allows himself to breathe.

He glances over at you, your profile illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. You look calmer now, more like yourself, though there’s still a shadow of what happened lingering in your eyes. Charles’ heart aches at the sight, at the knowledge that he couldn’t protect you from that, even if he was there to stop it from getting worse.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he just keeps walking, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles, a silent reassurance that he’s here, and he’s not going anywhere.

Eventually, you reach the familiar streets that lead back to your apartment. The night is quiet now, the revelry of earlier giving way to the peaceful stillness of a city that’s finally starting to sleep.

When you reach your building, you both stop, lingering on the sidewalk as if neither of you wants the night to end just yet. Charles knows he should say something, anything, but the words are stuck in his throat, too heavy and too complicated to untangle.

You’re the one who breaks the silence, your voice soft but clear. “Thank you. For everything.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says, echoing his earlier words. “I meant what I said — I’ll always protect you.”

There’s a pause, a beat of silence that stretches on just long enough to make Charles wonder if you’re going to say something more. But you don’t. Instead, you step closer and, without warning, wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.

Charles is momentarily stunned, his breath catching in his throat as he processes the warmth of your embrace, the way you cling to him like he’s your anchor in a storm. He hesitates for only a second before his arms come up around you, holding you just as tightly, if not more.

The hug lasts longer than it probably should, but neither of you seems to want to let go. When you finally do, you pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his with a softness that makes his chest tighten.

“Goodnight, Charlie,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice equally soft, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile moment between you.

You give him one last, lingering look before turning and heading into your building, the door closing softly behind you. Charles stands there for a moment, staring at the door, as if willing it to open again, as if hoping you might come back out and say something more.

But you don’t, and eventually, Charles turns and starts walking back the way you came, his thoughts a tangled mess of emotions he’s not sure how to deal with.

The night is still, the only sound the distant crash of the waves against the rocks. Charles lets the quiet seep into him, trying to find some semblance of calm, but it’s difficult. The image of you, scared and vulnerable, keeps flashing through his mind, a constant reminder of how close you came to being hurt.

He knows he should feel relief — that you’re safe, that the night ended without further incident. But instead, all he feels is a gnawing sense of guilt, of not having been there sooner, of not being able to protect you from everything.

Charles clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he walks. He doesn’t want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t been there, doesn’t want to imagine the fear and pain you might have endured.

But he can’t stop the thoughts from coming, can’t shake the anger that simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

As he rounds the corner to his own street, Charles makes a silent vow to himself. He’ll be more vigilant, more careful. He won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. He’ll be there, always, to protect you, no matter what.

And if anyone tries to come between you and your safety again, well … Charles isn’t sure he’ll be able to hold back next time.

He reaches his apartment, but he doesn’t go inside right away. Instead, he stands outside, staring up at the stars barely visible above the city lights, his mind still racing with thoughts of you.

Eventually, he takes a deep breath and turns to unlock his door, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him with a quiet click. The apartment is dark and silent, but it doesn’t feel like home tonight. It feels empty, hollow, as if something is missing.

And Charles knows exactly what that something is.

As he heads to bed, his thoughts are still on you — on the way you looked at him tonight, on the way you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. And somewhere, deep down, Charles knows that you’re more than just Arthur’s best friend to him.

But he’s not ready to confront that just yet. Not tonight.

So he pushes the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the promise he made to himself: to always be there for you, to protect you, no matter what.

It’s a promise he intends to keep.

***

The morning sun stretches over Monaco, its golden rays catching on the waves that lap against the harbor. The city is just beginning to stir, and for a moment, everything feels like it should: calm, peaceful, normal. But as Charles hits his stride on his morning run, his mind is anything but calm.

The events of last night replay in his head on a loop, the image of you — shaken, scared, fighting back tears — burned into his memory. Every step he takes feels heavier, weighted down by the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He’s tried to push it down, to focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement, but it’s no use. The rage is still there, as fresh and raw as it was the moment he saw you in that club.

Charles turns a corner, heading down toward the harbor where the yachts bob gently in the water. The morning air is crisp, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers in his chest. He needs to clear his head, to shake off the lingering sense of helplessness that clings to him like a shadow.

But then he sees him.

The man is walking casually along the harbor, hands in his pockets, his face a picture of smug indifference. He looks like any other tourist enjoying a morning stroll, not like someone who was grabbing you, hurting you, just hours ago.

Charles stops dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, he thinks he’s imagining it, that his mind is playing tricks on him. But no, it’s him. The same face, the same sneer that Charles wanted to wipe off with his fist last night.

Something snaps inside Charles. The anger he’s been trying to control, trying to bury, erupts like a dam breaking, flooding his veins with adrenaline. His vision narrows, locking onto the man who dared to touch you, who thought he could get away with it.

Without thinking, Charles changes direction, his strides long and purposeful as he closes the distance between them. The man doesn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in whatever thoughts a man like him could have. But then, as Charles gets closer, something makes the man glance over his shoulder.

His reaction is immediate. The smug look falters, replaced by a flicker of recognition, then quickly by a lazy grin that only fuels Charles’ rage.

“Well, well,” the man drawls, stopping to face Charles, clearly not sensing the danger. “If it isn’t the big hero himself. What’s the matter, Leclerc? Didn’t get enough attention last night?”

Charles doesn’t answer, his jaw clenched so tightly he can feel his teeth grind together. He’s close enough now to smell the lingering stench of alcohol on the man’s breath, the same breath that spewed vile words at you.

The man chuckles, a sound that grates on Charles’ nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “You know, she had it coming,” he says, his tone almost conversational. “The way she was dressed, the way she looked at me — what did she expect?”

That’s all it takes. The words cut through Charles like a knife, sharp and searing, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, shoving him back against the railing of the harbor.

“What did you say?” Charles’ voice is low, dangerous, barely more than a growl. His knuckles are white where they grip the man’s shirt, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

The man’s grin only widens, unfazed by the fury in Charles’ eyes. “You heard me,” he sneers. “And you know what? There’s nothing you can do about it. We’re in public, Leclerc. You’re a famous guy — can’t have your precious image tarnished, can you?”

Charles’ lips curl into a smile, but it’s not the kind that reaches his eyes. It’s cold, calculated, the kind of smile that sends a chill down the spine. “You think I care about that?” He asks, his voice dangerously calm.

The man’s bravado falters just a bit, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but he doesn’t back down. “Yeah, I do. You’re not gonna do anything. Not here, not in front of all these people.”

Charles laughs, but there’s no humor in it, just a bitter edge that makes the man shift uncomfortably. “You really don’t get it, do you?” Charles says, his voice softening into something almost pitying. “This is Monaco. And I’m Charles Leclerc.”

The man’s face pales slightly, but he still tries to hold his ground. ��So what? You think being a driver gives you a free pass to do whatever you want?”

Charles’ smile widens, though there’s nothing friendly about it. “Exactly.”

Before the man can react, Charles yanks him away from the railing, dragging him along the harbor. The man stumbles, trying to pull away, but Charles’ grip is ironclad, unyielding. The few people who are out this early watch with interest, some even clapping or calling out congratulations as they recognize Charles.

“Hey, what the hell?” The man protests, his voice rising in panic as he struggles against Charles’ hold. “Let go of me!”

Charles doesn’t respond, his eyes focused straight ahead as he forces the man to walk, his grip tightening whenever he feels him start to resist. The man’s attempts to free himself are pathetic, laughable even, compared to the strength Charles has built up over years of training, of pushing his body to the limits.

As they pass by a group of people, one of them cheers, “That’s the way, Charles! Show him who’s boss!”

The man tries to appeal to the onlookers, his voice frantic. “Someone stop him! He’s crazy!”

But no one moves to help. They just watch, some amused, others indifferent, as Charles continues to drag the man through the streets of Monaco like he’s nothing more than a piece of trash that needs to be disposed of.

“Where are you taking me?” The man demands, his voice trembling now as fear starts to seep in. “You can’t do this! I’ll-I’ll call the police!”

Charles’ laugh is cold and devoid of any warmth. “Go ahead,” he says, not slowing down for a second. “Tell them Charles Leclerc is dealing with a problem. See how far that gets you.”

The man’s protests grow weaker, his struggles more desperate, but it’s clear he knows there’s no escaping this. Charles is too strong, too determined, and the reality of his situation is starting to sink in.

The two of them reach a more secluded part of the harbor, where the buildings are fewer and the noise of the city fades into the background. There’s no one around to witness what’s about to happen, no one to hear the man’s cries for help.

Charles comes to a stop in a narrow alleyway, shoving the man against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of him. He leans in close, his face inches from the man’s, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

“You made a mistake last night,” Charles says, his tone icy. “You thought you could get away with it because you were in a crowded club, because she was alone. You thought no one would stop you.”

The man’s eyes are wide with fear now, all traces of his earlier arrogance gone. “I-I didn’t mean-”

“But you did,” Charles cuts him off, his voice like steel. “You meant every word, every touch, every threat. And now, you’re going to pay for it.”

The man tries to push Charles away, his movements frantic, but Charles is relentless. He grabs the man by the throat, pinning him against the wall, his grip just tight enough to make him understand how serious this is.

“You think I can’t do anything to you because we’re in public?” Charles hisses, his breath hot against the man’s ear. “You’re wrong. In Monaco, I can do whatever I want. And no one will stop me.”

The man’s hands claw at Charles’ arm, trying to pry his fingers away from his throat, but it’s useless. Charles is too strong, too focused, his anger giving him a surge of power that the man can’t hope to match.

Charles leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You hurt someone I care about. Someone I’ve known my whole life. And for that, I’m going to make sure you never forget what happens when you cross me.”

The man’s breath comes in short, panicked gasps as he realizes the gravity of his situation. He tries to speak, to beg for mercy, but Charles isn’t interested in hearing his excuses.

“Please …” the man finally manages to choke out, his voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry …”

Charles’ eyes narrow, his grip tightening for a moment before he abruptly lets go, letting the man collapse to the ground in a heap. The man gasps for air, his hands trembling as he scrambles to his feet, his eyes wide with fear.

But Charles isn’t done. He grabs the man by the collar, dragging him deeper into the alley, where the shadows swallow them both. The man’s struggles are weak now, more out of instinct than any real hope of escape.

“People like you,” Charles says, his voice low and menacing, “think you can do whatever you want. But here’s the truth: you’re nothing. Just another coward who preys on the vulnerable. And cowards like you don’t get to walk away.”

The alley is cold and dark, the early morning light barely reaching the grimy corners where Charles drags the man like a lifeless doll. The sounds of Monaco are distant now, just a low hum that fades into the background. The only noise that matters is the ragged breathing of the man at Charles’ mercy, and the echo of their footsteps on the uneven pavement.

Charles stops abruptly, his grip still tight on the man’s collar. He looks around, taking in the silence, the isolation. This place, this forgotten corner of the city, is perfect. No one will find them here. No one will hear what happens next.

He shoves the man against the wall again, harder this time, the force of it knocking the breath out of him. The man lets out a choked gasp, his eyes wide with fear, the bravado from earlier completely gone.

“Please,” he stammers, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean-”

Charles cuts him off with a sharp punch to the gut, and the man doubles over, wheezing. “Don’t bother,” Charles says coldly. “You’re not sorry. You’re just scared. There’s a difference.”

The man tries to straighten up, but Charles doesn’t give him the chance. He lands another punch, this time to the man’s jaw, the crack of bone echoing in the alley. The man’s head snaps to the side, blood already beginning to trickle from his split lip.

“You like hurting people, don’t you?” Charles asks, his voice calm, almost conversational as he paces in front of the man. “That’s what you were doing last night, right? You saw her and you thought you could do whatever you wanted.”

The man groans, trying to push himself up from the ground where he’s fallen, but Charles is on him in an instant, his knee pressing into the man’s chest, pinning him down.

“You thought she was alone,” Charles continues, his voice still eerily calm as he looks down at the man struggling beneath him. “You thought no one would stop you.”

He leans in closer, his knee digging into the man’s ribs, making it harder for him to breathe. “But she wasn’t alone. And now, you’re going to pay for what you did.”

The man tries to shake his head, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “I’m sorry,” he gasps out, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know-”

Another punch, this one to the side of the man’s face, silences him. Charles doesn’t care about his excuses, his lies. All he cares about is making sure this man understands the pain, the fear that you felt last night.

He grabs the man by the hair, forcing his head up so their eyes meet. The man’s face is already swelling, bruises blossoming under his skin like dark flowers. “You think this is bad?” Charles asks, his voice low, dangerous. “This is nothing compared to what you deserve.”

The man whimpers, his hands weakly trying to push Charles away, but it’s no use. Charles is relentless, his grip like iron as he drags the man up and slams him back against the wall.

“You like to take what you want, don’t you?” Charles says, his breath hot against the man’s ear. “Well, let’s see how you like it when someone takes something from you.”

Without waiting for a response, Charles delivers a brutal kick to the man’s knee, and the sickening sound of bone cracking echoes in the alley. The man screams, a high, desperate sound that only fuels Charles’ anger.

He watches dispassionately as the man crumples to the ground, clutching his leg, his face contorted in agony. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Charles asks, his voice devoid of any sympathy. “Now imagine how she felt. Imagine how scared she was, how helpless.”

The man tries to crawl away, his movements sluggish, hindered by the pain, but Charles isn’t done. He grabs the man by the ankle, dragging him back, his face set in grim determination.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Charles says, his voice flat, emotionless. “Not until I’m finished.”

He pulls the man up, slamming him into the wall again, his grip never loosening. The man’s head lolls to the side, blood dripping from his nose, his mouth, but Charles doesn’t care. He won’t stop until the man feels every bit of the fear and pain he inflicted on you.

“You think you can just walk away from this?” Charles asks, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but there’s a dangerous edge to it that makes the man’s eyes widen in fear. “You think you can just go back to your life, like nothing happened?”

The man shakes his head weakly, but Charles doesn’t believe him. He knows men like this, cowards who prey on the vulnerable, who think they’re invincible because they’ve never had to face the consequences of their actions.

“Wrong,” Charles says, his voice hard, unyielding. “You’re not walking away from this. Not ever.”

He lands another punch, this one to the man’s ribs, and the man gasps, the air knocked out of him. Charles steps back for a moment, watching as the man collapses to the ground, coughing, wheezing, barely conscious.

“Look at you,” Charles says, his voice filled with contempt as he circles the man like a predator. “Pathetic. All that confidence, all that arrogance — gone. Now you’re just a scared little boy, begging for mercy.”

The man’s eyes flutter open, bloodshot and filled with pain. He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a low, pitiful moan. Charles crouches down beside him, his eyes cold, calculating.

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” Charles asks, his voice soft, almost gentle, but there’s a cruel undertone that makes the man flinch. “Did you think no one would care? That no one would come for you?”

The man doesn’t answer, his body trembling, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Charles watches him for a moment, his anger still simmering, but there’s a part of him — a small part — that feels a twisted sense of satisfaction. This man, this coward, is finally paying for what he did.

But it’s not enough. Not yet.

Charles reaches down, grabbing the man by the throat, his fingers digging into the bruised flesh. The man’s eyes go wide, panic setting in as he struggles to breathe, his hands weakly clawing at Charles’ arm.

“You’re not going to forget this,” Charles says, his voice low, dangerous. “Every time you look in the mirror, every time you see those scars, you’re going to remember what happens when you cross me. When you hurt someone I care about.”

The man gurgles, his eyes rolling back in his head, his body going limp in Charles’ grasp. For a moment, Charles considers finishing it, squeezing the life out of the man until there’s nothing left. But then he releases his grip, letting the man collapse to the ground, gasping for air.

The man barely has the strength to lift his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. “You … you can’t … do this,” he wheezes, his voice weak, barely audible. “I’ll … have you arrested … for attempted murder …”

Charles stares down at him, a cold, humorless smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down the man’s spine. “Go ahead,” he says, his voice dripping with contempt. “Try it. See how far you get.”

The man’s eyes flutter closed, his body trembling uncontrollably as the reality of his situation sets in. He’s helpless, broken, barely clinging to consciousness. And Charles knows that the man’s threats are empty, born out of desperation, a final attempt to grasp at some semblance of control.

“You’re nothing,” Charles says, his voice cold, final. “No one is going to believe you. Not after what you did. Not after what I’ve done to you.”

The man’s breath comes in short, shallow gasps, his body shuddering with pain and exhaustion. Charles watches him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he finally stands up, looking down at the broken, bloodied man at his feet.

“Consider this a warning,” Charles says, his voice low, menacing. “Stay away from her. Stay away from Monaco. If I ever see you again, I won’t stop next time. I won’t show mercy.”

The man doesn’t respond, barely clinging to consciousness, his body slumped against the wall like a discarded puppet. Charles takes one last look at him, his eyes cold, before he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing in the silent alley.

As he steps out into the morning light, the anger that had consumed him begins to fade, replaced by a cold, detached calm. He knows what he’s done, knows that he’s crossed a line that most people wouldn’t dare to. But he doesn’t care. He did what he had to do, what you needed him to do.

And he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

***

The atmosphere in the police station is tense, a quiet hum of activity threading through the open space. Officers move about, their conversations muted, eyes occasionally flicking toward the door where Charles Leclerc is expected to enter any moment. There’s a palpable discomfort in the air, a mix of respect and unease. No one wants to be the one to arrest Charles Leclerc. And yet, protocol demands his presence.

When Charles finally walks in, the room seems to still. Heads turn, eyes widen slightly. He’s dressed casually — sweatpants, a loose-fitting t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Despite the nonchalance of his appearance, there’s an unmistakable tension in his shoulders, a hardness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

The desk sergeant, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a lined face, stands up hastily. “Monsieur Leclerc,” he begins, his tone overly formal, almost reverent. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice. We’re, uh … we’re very sorry about this.”

Charles offers a curt nod, his expression unreadable. “What’s this about?” He asks, even though he already knows.

The sergeant hesitates, glancing around nervously. “We, uh, received a complaint this morning,” he explains, his voice wavering slightly. “From a … an individual who claims that you assaulted him.”

Charles’ lips twitch into something resembling a smile, though there’s no warmth in it. “He’s not wrong,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. “I did.”

The sergeant’s eyes widen slightly, and there’s a nervous shifting among the other officers in the room. This isn’t how these things usually go. “Monsieur Leclerc,” the sergeant begins again, more carefully this time, “we understand that this man may have … done something to provoke you. But we have to follow protocol. We need to ask you some questions.”

Charles crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly as he regards the sergeant with a cold, detached stare. “Protocol,” he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. “Fine. Ask your questions.”

The sergeant shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Did you, uh, did you physically assault the complainant?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

There’s a collective intake of breath from the officers around them, as if they can’t quite believe what they’re hearing. The sergeant blinks, clearly taken aback by Charles’ bluntness. “And … do you regret it?”

Charles laughs then, a dark, humorless sound that sends a shiver down the spines of everyone in the room. “Regret?” He echoes, shaking his head. “No, I don’t regret it. In fact, I’d do it again.”

The sergeant’s face pales, and he looks around as if searching for some way out of this conversation. “Monsieur Leclerc,” he begins again, his voice trembling slightly, “I don’t think you understand the situation. You’ve just admitted to a serious crime. We … we can’t just let you go.”

Charles’ expression hardens, his jaw clenching. “Yes, you can,” he says, his voice cold, unyielding. “And you will.”

The sergeant opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get a word out, the door to the station bursts open, and the man from the alley stumbles in. His face is still bruised, his movements stiff and pained. But there’s a look of triumph in his eyes as he spots Charles standing there.

“There he is!” The man shouts, pointing a shaky finger at Charles. “That’s him! That’s the bastard who tried to kill me!”

Charles turns slowly to face the man, his expression unreadable. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with tension. The man, emboldened by the presence of the police, takes a step closer, his voice rising with every word. “You think you can just walk away from this, Leclerc? You think you’re untouchable? I’m going to see you rot in prison for what you did!”

Charles doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. The man falters slightly, confused by the lack of reaction. Charles taps the screen a few times, then puts it on speaker.

“What are you doing?” The man sneers, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “Calling your lawyer? That’s not going to save you.”

Charles doesn’t bother to reply. The phone rings once, twice, before a familiar voice answers on the other end.

“Charles,” comes the smooth, authoritative voice of Prince Albert of Monaco. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off the man as he responds. “Your Highness, I’m at the police station. There’s a man here trying to press charges against me for something I did last night.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Prince Albert’s voice, calm and steady, fills the room through the speakerphone. “I see. And what exactly did you do, Charles?”

Charles’ eyes narrow as he stares down the man, who is now looking increasingly nervous. “I made sure he understands that there are consequences for hurting people I care about,” Charles says, his voice low, menacing. “I made sure he knows that no one lays a hand on her without answering to me.”

The silence in the station is deafening. Every officer in the room is holding their breath, waiting to see what happens next. The man’s face drains of color as he realizes what’s happening, who Charles is talking to.

Prince Albert’s voice is measured, careful. “And you believe this was necessary?”

“Yes,” Charles replies without hesitation. “It was necessary.”

There’s another pause, and then Prince Albert speaks again, his tone decisive. “Then I trust your judgment. You did what you had to do. Consider this a royal pardon. I’ll have an official document delivered to the station within the hour.”

The man’s mouth falls open in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You … you can’t do this!” He sputters, his voice rising in desperation. “He assaulted me! He nearly killed me!”

Charles finally lowers the phone, ending the call. He slips it back into his pocket, his expression as cold and unyielding as ever. “You heard him,” Charles says quietly, his eyes locked on the man’s. “You’re done here.”

The man looks around wildly, as if searching for someone to back him up, but all he finds are the wary, sympathetic gazes of the officers. No one is going to help him. No one is going to defy Prince Albert.

The desk sergeant clears his throat, stepping forward. “Monsieur Leclerc,” he says, his voice carefully controlled, “it appears that you’re free to go.”

Charles doesn’t smile. He simply nods, his gaze never leaving the man who stands trembling before him. “Good,” he says softly. “Because I have more important things to do than waste my time here.”

The man opens his mouth to protest again, but the words die on his lips as Charles steps forward, his presence overwhelming, almost suffocating. “You should leave Monaco,” Charles says, his voice low and dangerous. “Before I change my mind about letting you live.”

The man stumbles back, his bravado crumbling as fear takes hold. He casts one last desperate glance at the officers, but they all turn away, unwilling to meet his eyes. He’s alone in this, and he knows it.

With a final, defeated whimper, the man turns and flees from the station, his steps hurried, unsteady. Charles watches him go, his expression unreadable, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and satisfaction.

The desk sergeant shifts awkwardly, unsure of what to say. “Uh, I … we’re sorry for the inconvenience,” he stammers. “It’s just … we had to follow procedure …”

Charles waves a hand dismissively, already heading for the door. “It’s fine,” he says, though there’s a hardness in his voice that suggests otherwise. “Just make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

The sergeant nods quickly, grateful for the reprieve. “Of course, Monsieur Leclerc. It won’t happen again.”

Charles doesn’t respond. He steps out into the sunlight, the tension slowly draining from his body as the warmth of the day washes over him. The streets of Monaco are as busy as ever, people going about their lives, oblivious to what just transpired inside the police station.

He takes a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs, grounding himself. The day is far from over, and there are still things he needs to do, but for now, the threat has been neutralized. The man who hurt you is gone, and Charles made sure he’ll never come back.

As he walks away from the station, Charles can’t help but think of you, your face, your voice, the way you smiled at him when you were just a little girl. He knows he’s crossed a line today, done things that most people wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t condone. But he doesn’t care. He did it for you.

And he’d do it all over again if he had to.

***

Charles stands outside your apartment, a paper bag of takeout in one hand, his other raised to knock on the door. He hesitates for a moment, nerves he didn’t expect twisting in his stomach. It’s strange, feeling nervous about seeing you. He’s known you for years — watched you grow up, shared countless family dinners with you, laughed at your jokes, teased you about your school crushes.

But this … this feels different. Everything feels different now.

He finally knocks, a light tap that he knows you’ll hear. A few seconds pass, and then the door swings open, revealing you standing there in a casual outfit, your hair pulled back, a soft smile on your face.

“Charles,” you greet him, your voice warm, familiar. “Come in.”

He steps inside, glancing around the cozy space. It’s a small apartment, but it’s yours, filled with little touches that scream your personality — bookshelves overflowing with novels, a blanket draped over the back of the couch, a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table. It’s homey, comfortable, and it smells like the vanilla candle you always seem to have burning.

“I brought lunch,” Charles says, holding up the bag. “Figured you might be hungry.”

You smile, your eyes brightening at the sight of the food. “You know me too well. What did you get?”

“Your favorite,” he replies, setting the bag down on the table and beginning to unpack it. “Pasta from that little place near the harbor.”

“Perfect,” you say, moving to grab plates from the cupboard. “You always know how to spoil me.”

Charles chuckles, though his mind is far from the light-hearted conversation. There’s something heavy sitting on his chest, something he knows he needs to tell you, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he focuses on the food, dishing out generous portions onto each plate.

You both sit down at the small dining table, and for a few minutes, there’s nothing but the sound of forks scraping against plates and the occasional hum of satisfaction as you enjoy the meal. It’s comfortable, easy — just like it’s always been between you.

But then, as if sensing his unease, you break the silence. “So, I heard the craziest thing this morning,” you say, your tone light, almost teasing. “One of my friends told me that you were almost arrested yesterday. Can you believe that?”

Charles’ fork pauses midway to his mouth, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn’t expected you to bring it up so casually, hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. He forces a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh? What did she say?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “She said she heard you were involved in some kind of fight and that the police were called. I told her she was crazy. I mean, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, right?”

There’s a playful glint in your eyes, but Charles can’t bring himself to join in. Instead, he sets his fork down, the sound of metal against porcelain unnaturally loud in the quiet room. He looks at you, his expression serious, all traces of his earlier smile gone.

“Actually,” he begins, his voice low, steady, “it’s true.”

Your smile falters, confusion flickering across your face. “What do you mean?”

Charles leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he meets your gaze head-on. “I was at the police station yesterday,” he says, the words heavy, deliberate. “They called me in because that guy — the one who … hurt you — he tried to press charges against me.”

You stare at him, the shock evident in your wide eyes. “Wait, you’re serious? This isn’t some joke?”

“I’m serious,” Charles replies, his voice calm, almost too calm. “I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m not ashamed of it either. He deserved what he got.”

For a moment, you just sit there, trying to process what he’s telling you. You set your fork down, your appetite suddenly gone. “But … Charles, what did you do?”

Charles takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I made sure he understood that there are consequences for his actions. That he can’t just walk away after what he did to you.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your glass of water, taking a sip to steady yourself. “You … you didn’t …”

“I didn’t kill him,” Charles says quickly, sensing your fear. “But I hurt him. Badly. And I don’t regret it.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your mind racing. The Charles you know — the Charles you grew up with, the one who used to give you piggyback rides when you were too tired to walk — wouldn’t do something like this. But then again, this isn’t just anyone we’re talking about. This is you. And for Charles, you’re different. You’ve always been different.

“I did it to protect you,” Charles continues, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I couldn’t just stand by and let him get away with what he did. I couldn’t …”

He trails off, his gaze dropping to the table, his shoulders slumping slightly. It’s as if all the fight has drained out of him, leaving behind only the raw, honest truth of his actions.

You swallow hard, trying to make sense of everything. “But … you could have been arrested. You could have gone to jail.”

Charles laughs, a bitter sound that holds no real amusement. “Not in Monaco,” he says, shaking his head. “Not for this.”

You furrow your brow, confusion evident in your expression. “What do you mean?”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I talked to Prince Albert. He gave me a royal pardon. The guy had no chance.”

You blink, stunned by the casual way he says it, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “A royal pardon? Charles, that’s … that’s not normal.”

“No, it’s not,” Charles agrees, his tone somber. “But I don’t care. I’d do it all over again if it meant keeping you safe.”

The weight of his words hangs between you, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. You’ve always known Charles was protective of you, but this … this is something else entirely. He’s crossed a line, and there’s no going back.

For a moment, you’re both silent, the tension in the room thick, suffocating. Charles watches you, his heart pounding in his chest, waiting for you to say something, anything. He’s prepared for you to be angry, to be horrified by what he’s done. But he wasn’t prepared for the look of sadness that crosses your face, the way your shoulders slump as if the weight of the world has suddenly fallen on you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you finally whisper, your voice shaky. “I never wanted you to do something like this for me.”

Charles leans forward, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His touch is warm, steady, and for a moment, it grounds you, pulls you back from the edge of the panic that’s been rising in your chest.

“I know,” he says softly. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. But it’s what I needed to do. I couldn’t just stand by and let him hurt you.”

You squeeze his hand, your grip tightening as if you’re afraid to let go. “But what if you had been arrested? What if you couldn’t get out of it? I couldn’t bear the thought of you being locked up because of me.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Charles replies, his voice firm, resolute. “I told you, I’d do anything to protect you. And I mean it.”

You look up at him then, your eyes searching his, trying to find some sign that this is all just a bad dream, that you’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal. But all you see is the truth — the raw, unfiltered truth of what Charles has done, and why he did it.

“I don’t know if I should be angry or grateful,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve always been there for me. But this … this is something else.”

Charles smiles then, a small, sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have to be anything,” he says softly. “Just know that I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

For a moment, you just sit there, holding his hand, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. There’s so much you want to say, so much you want to ask, but you can’t seem to find the right words. Instead, you focus on the warmth of his hand in yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his eyes never leave yours.

And then, before you can second-guess yourself, you lean across the table and press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, but it quickly deepens, the tension that’s been building between you finally finding release.

Charles’ hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. The kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed — desperate, passionate, full of all the emotions that have been bubbling beneath the surface.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath. Charles’ eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, and there’s a look in them that you’ve never seen before — something raw and vulnerable, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence heavy with the weight of what just happened. Charles’ hand is still in your hair, his thumb gently stroking the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and steady, as if he’s trying to anchor himself in this moment, to hold onto it for as long as he can.

Eventually, you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your own heart pounding so loudly in your ears that you’re sure he can hear it too. “Charles …” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not sure what you want to say, what you’re supposed to say. Everything feels too big, too overwhelming.

Charles doesn’t say anything, just watches you with that same intense gaze, his eyes searching yours for something — reassurance, maybe, or understanding. Slowly, he lowers his hand from your hair, his fingers trailing down the side of your face before he lets it fall to his lap. The loss of his touch leaves you feeling cold, and you almost want to reach out and pull him back to you, to kiss him again and forget everything else. But you don’t.

Instead, you take a shaky breath and try to gather your thoughts, your mind racing. “What … what does this mean?” You finally manage to ask, your voice trembling.

He looks down at his hands, his brows furrowing in thought. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “All I know is that I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve known you my whole life, but … this is different.”

You bite your lip, trying to make sense of it all. “I’ve always cared about you. You know that. But I never thought …” You trail off, unable to finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air between you.

Charles finally looks up at you again, his expression softening. “Neither did I,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But now that it’s happened … I don’t think I can go back. I don’t want to.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. There’s a part of you that wants to be cautious, to protect yourself from whatever this is, but there’s another part — one that’s stronger — that wants to take the leap, to see where this could go.

“I don’t want to either,” you whisper, the admission almost too much to say out loud. But it’s the truth, and once it’s out there, you feel a sense of relief, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Charles’ eyes soften even more, his smile widening slightly. He reaches out, taking your hand in his once more, his grip warm and steady. “Then let’s see where this goes,” he says, his voice low and full of promise.

You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. “Okay.”

For a moment, you both just sit there, hands intertwined, the food on the table long forgotten as the reality of what just happened begins to sink in. There’s still so much you need to talk about, so many questions that need answers, but for now, this is enough. The kiss, the confession, the promise of something more — it’s all more than you ever expected.

Charles gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes never leaving yours. “Whatever happens next, I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

You smile, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you say softly. “And I’m here for you too.”

He nods, his expression earnest. “Good.”

The silence between you is comfortable now, the tension from earlier finally dissipating. You feel a sense of peace settle over you, a feeling that everything will be okay, no matter what comes next.

Finally, Charles glances at the table, his smile turning sheepish. “We should probably finish our lunch,” he says, his tone light.

You laugh, the sound easing the last of your lingering nerves. “Yeah, we probably should.”

You both pick up your forks, and the conversation shifts back to lighter topics, the ease between you returning as if nothing has changed. But you both know that something has. There’s a new understanding between you, a new connection that wasn’t there before. And as you finish your meal, stealing glances at each other across the table, you can’t help but feel excited about what the future might hold.

***

Monaco at night is a different kind of magic. The streets are quieter, the buzz of the day replaced by the hum of luxury cars and the distant sound of waves crashing against the harbor. The city glows with a soft, golden light, the kind that makes everything look a little more romantic, a little more surreal. And tonight, with you tucked into Charles’ side as you walk home from dinner, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you.

You’ve been together for a few years now, and yet there’s still a thrill in the way he holds you close, his arm draped around your shoulders as if he’s claiming you all over again. There’s something comforting in the familiarity of it, the way your bodies just fit together, like two puzzle pieces that were always meant to be.

The conversation between you is light, filled with teasing banter about the dessert you shared at the restaurant — how he insists you ate most of it, and you argue that he’s the one with the sweet tooth. It’s the kind of easy back-and-forth that comes with knowing someone inside out, with having weathered storms together and come out stronger on the other side.

But as you turn down a quieter street, the atmosphere shifts. It’s subtle at first — a flicker of movement in the corner of Charles’ eye, the sense that you’re being watched. And then, out of nowhere, a voice cuts through the night, crude and jarring in its tone.

“Hey, baby, how about a smile?”

You freeze, your muscles tensing instinctively. The voice belongs to a man leaning against a lamppost, his eyes raking over you with a leer that makes your skin crawl. You feel Charles stiffen beside you, his arm tightening around your shoulders protectively. But before you can react, the man pushes off from the lamppost and approaches, his hand reaching out to touch you.

It all happens in a blur. The man’s fingers graze your arm, and you flinch back, your heart racing. But before you can fully process the disgust that courses through you, Charles is already moving.

The look in his eyes is one you recognize — a dark, dangerous glint that you’ve only seen a handful of times, but each one burned into your memory. It’s the same look he had that night at the club, the night he became more than just your protector, the night everything between you changed.

He’s about to lunge, his body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash all the anger simmering beneath the surface. But you place a hand on his chest, stopping him just in time.

“Charles,” you say softly, but there’s a knowing edge to your voice, a familiarity with the situation. “Should I call Prince Albert? Let him know you might need another pardon?”

Charles pauses, his gaze flickering to yours, and for a moment, the tension eases. The corners of his mouth twitch upward, a dark, almost feral smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice low and laced with a dangerous amusement. “This must be the fourth one this year.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound lightening the mood, if only for a second. “Actually,” you correct him, your eyes sparkling with mischief, “it’s the fifth.”

His smile widens at that, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. But the humor doesn’t last long. The reality of the situation pulls him back, and his expression hardens once more as he turns his attention to the man who dared to touch you.

“Stay here,” Charles says, his tone leaving no room for argument. It’s the voice of a man who’s about to do something he won’t regret — something he’s done before.

You nod, trusting him, knowing that whatever happens next, it’s out of your hands. And as Charles steps away from you, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction, a sense of justice in knowing that this man is about to face the consequences of his actions.

The man, oblivious to the danger he’s in, sneers at Charles, clearly unbothered by the presence of another man. “What are you gonna do, pretty boy?” He taunts, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You think you can scare me?”

Charles doesn’t respond immediately. He takes his time, closing the distance between them with a measured, almost predatory grace. And when he finally speaks, his voice is as cold as ice.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Charles says quietly, the words laced with a threat that hangs heavy in the air.

The man laughs, the sound grating and unpleasant. “Oh, I know exactly who you are,” he sneers. “You’re that driver, right? Leclerc? Big deal. Doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.”

Charles tilts his head slightly, as if considering the man’s words, and then, to your surprise, he laughs — a dark, cruel sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You think being in public will protect you?” Charles asks, his voice dripping with mockery. “You think because there are people around, I won’t make you regret ever laying a hand on her?”

The man falters, some of his bravado slipping as he realizes that Charles isn’t backing down. He glances around, perhaps expecting someone to come to his aid, but the street is empty, save for a few onlookers who are too far away to hear the exchange.

Charles doesn’t give him time to think. With a speed that takes the man by surprise, he grabs him by the collar, yanking him forward with a strength that belies his lean frame. The man stumbles, his cocky demeanor evaporating as he realizes he’s in over his head.

“You should have walked away,” Charles murmurs, his voice dangerously calm. “But now … now you’re going to pay.”

The man struggles, trying to push Charles away, but it’s futile. Charles is a professional athlete, his body honed for strength and endurance, and the man is no match for him. Within seconds, Charles has him pinned against the wall of a nearby building, his forearm pressed against the man’s throat.

“Get off me, you psycho!” The man chokes out, his voice panicked as he claws at Charles’ arm.

But Charles doesn’t budge. He leans in closer, his face inches from the man’s, his eyes filled with a cold, calculated fury. “You’re going to regret ever touching her,” he says quietly, his words laced with venom.

And then, without warning, he drags the man away from the wall, pulling him down the street with a force that makes it clear this isn’t just a warning — it’s a promise. The man tries to resist, tries to fight back, but it’s no use. Charles is stronger, faster, and more determined, his grip unyielding as he hauls the man toward a darker, more secluded part of the street.

You watch from a distance, your heart pounding in your chest. Part of you wants to stop him, to tell him it’s not worth it, but another part of you— the part that remembers the fear and helplessness you felt when that man touched you — wants Charles to follow through, to make sure this man never does this to anyone else again.

As they disappear around a corner, you take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You trust Charles, you know he’ll be careful, but you can’t help the worry that creeps in, the fear of what might happen next.

Minutes pass, each one feeling like an eternity, and then finally, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, your breath catching in your throat as you see Charles emerging from the shadows, alone.

His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark and stormy as he walks back to you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

Then, without a word, Charles pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he’s afraid to let go. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your hair. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shake your head, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “You don’t have to apologize,” you say softly, your hand cupping his cheek. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He smiles then, a small, tired smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m okay,” he says, though you can hear the weariness in his voice. “But he won’t be bothering you — or anyone else �� again.”

You nod, knowing there’s more to the story than he’s telling you, but you don’t press him. Not now, not when he’s holding you so tightly, as if he’s afraid to let you go.

“Let’s go home,” you say gently, taking his hand in yours.

Charles nods, his grip on your hand firm as he leads you back down the street, away from the darkness and into the light. And as you walk together, side by side, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief, a sense of safety in knowing that no matter what happens, Charles will always be there to protect you.

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thewonandonly · 4 months ago

Text

BE MY MISTAKE

PLAYLIST : spotify

PAIRING : ghostface!lee jeno (nct) x afab!reader

GENRE : horror/thriller(?), fluff, smut, angst (hurtfic)

SYNOPSIS : "happy halloween! time to play one giant insensitive prank on you like the popular movie franchise "stab!" lol it'll be funny dw"

WC : 12,670 words

WARNINGS : heavily based on the scream franchise. established relationship, strong language, jeno = billy and reader = sydney essentially, jeno and reader have sexy time with the mask on, oral (f. receiving), p-in-v sex, cunnilingus, dirty talk, um premeditation 😀, no happy ending. guys this is literally about a (fictional) murderer. there is a chasing scene. think scary movie 1 in the theater but more, like, serious.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : happy october :3 when you really think about it, isn't halloween time everyday? here's something i actually worked on bc im insane. also, there's a bit of an inconsistency with the writing; i said jeno already got tickets but obvi theyre seeing it at the theater party. i was already 3/4 of the way done writing it when i remembered so pls just ignore it plsplspls i beg. as always, please let me know if i forgot any warnings <3

DISCLAIMER : the characters in this story are to be allusions to real people, and none of the situations, personalities, and actions found here should reflect reality. i do not believe in any of the problematic actions displayed and mentioned. this story was created with zero intention to violate the images of the artists.

It was October, which meant another "Stab!" movie was going to be released within due time, which also meant, everyone was going to harp on about the events that happened last year; that happen every year. The "Stab!" movies that got rereleased in theaters every year for a week were really... not all that good, in your (unprofessional) opinion. They were poorly made "based-on-a-true-story" movies that influenced a worldwide prank across the world that caused a lot of actual real world deaths and trauma. But, your boyfriend, a film student, thought it was one of the best movies ever made! You remember you both started dating around this time almost three years ago and seeing the rerelease of the 1997 slasher film was quite unexpected. You didn't even know it existed until that time, when Jeno, your boyfriend, excitedly asked you out on that first date to see it.

You could remember your boyfriend shoveling buckets and tubs of popcorn into his mouth as you could barely stomach the thought of Sidney Prescott being harassed for years, decades. Your own judgement was being questioned that night and you ignored it.

Sitting at your laptop in the library, you let out a deep and long sigh as you stared at the blank word document. Given it was October and you were a criminal history student, it was only natural that you were given the assignment on criminal offenses that happened during the Halloween season. And of course, the first thing that popped up into your head was the Woodsboro Murders, after all the rewatches over the last year. The tabs open on your computer about the crime significantly slowed down your laptop that you were willing to opt for the books that rested on the library shelves.

And if it wasn't the cherry on top of your already obnoxious day, your computer crashed. Meaning, browsing the aisles for any information about your subject and writing the information down the classic "pen-to-paper" way was the only way you were going to get your work done, which was probably a blessing in disguise, considering you knew how easily you could get distracted.

You dropped your head to your hands, letting out a sigh before you lifted your head, your laptop slamming shut.

"I wanna play a game." Your boyfriend spoke in a sinister voice as he looked at you, holding a Billy the Puppet mask from the Saw films over his face, before he pulled it down to smile at you.

You sighed again, packing up the laptop, "Not funny." You grumbled.

Jeno laughed, turning his wrist to look at the mask, "What? Who doesn't love Billy the Puppet?"

You glanced at Jeno through your lashes and zipped up the bag you had, before walking over to the Windows Vista desktop your university refused to update and searched up your keyword: "Woodsboro." And you hoped your boyfriend wouldn't peek over your shoulder and-

"Woodsboro?" He perked up and looked at your face, "Are you studying about it?" He began to overload you with questions; "Why are you studying it?" or "How far are you along?" or "Can I help you with whatever you're studying this for?"

You couldn't blame him, you really couldn't. He was like a puppy who just found a stick in the yard. You knew that if you even slightly mentioned "Stab!" or the murders, you'd have to deal with your boyfriend bouncing off the walls. You were surprised he never decided to join your criminal history class, purely based on the fact he was the most knowledgeable person about the subject that you knew.

You looked at the top three recommended books, and erased the search from the results, wandering down to the section of the library. Jeno followed close behind. "It's for my criminal history class." Was all you said.

"I can help you!" He chuckled.

You stopped right at the final section pulling out the book titled "The Woodboro Murders" by Gale Weathers. It was a best seller, apparently, if the bright red font at the top of the book wasn't enough to tell you that. You held it in your arm before you pulled the second book out and placed in on top of the other. "Jeno, I know you're excited to help but it's history. This isn't some trashy movie about slashers."

Jeno winced as you criticized his favorite movie, holding his hand to his chest, "Come on, baby, you know I know better than anyone about this stuff." He smiled, "I can help you. I don't know just the trashy horror movie stuff. I know the psychology and the science behind it."

You attempted to walk away, but Jeno quickly pulled you back to smile at you, the Billy the Puppet mask still lingering in his hand.

Jeno was always handsome, and he knew it too. If there wasn't multiple times he was able to win you over with just his looks, you'd be lying. So, when he looks at you with his soft smile, and his soft eyes, you begin to fall all over again. You take in his features; the mole that sits under his right eye, his nose, how beautiful his eyes looked.

Fuck, you swore to yourself, here we go again. "Fine, you can help me." You almost grumbled. Almost. "But, I'm not using the movie as a source." You pointed at him, "Everything we include has to be in any of these books or reliable sources on the internet."

Jeno held his hands up once more, chuckling, "I got it. I got it. Consider the existence of Stab completely erased from my mind from this moment forward."

"Good." You continued down the middle of the book shelves, grabbing another book, your boyfriend following close behind, his hands brushing against the spine of the books.

Jeno perked up, "Hey, we've got a few days before our anniversary. I was thinking we could go see that rerelease on the day of."

You glanced at him once more, "I really need to keep a counter of how often you mention that movie."

As much as you hated the movie, and it's effects after the release, it was like you were reliving your first date with him. Last year, you guys went to the same theater, ordered the same snacks — a large popcorn with extra butter, gummy candy and one large soda you both shared — and you both were lucky to get the same exact seats as your first date. And you hoped that you could relive that day over and over again.

You glanced at Jeno, tilting your head to the side, "You already have the tickets, huh?" You asked.

"Yup." Jeno rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the tickets to show you, throwing his arm over your shoulder, "Same auditorium; same seats."

You smiled to yourself. Sure, he could tick you off mentioning "Stab!" ten to twelve times a day, but... you loved him. He was your boyfriend. And the attention to detail he always had was admirable.

You pecked his cheek, making his smile grow even wider, feeling your chest tighten as you admired his features silently once again, holding the books in your arm as you ran your fingers through his hair.

He was annoying, but he was also sweet. And he was all your own.

After a long and grueling study session, cramped hands, and an overwhelming amount of information that you weren't even aware of, it was now officially 8pm, and the university library was closing for the night, the librarian grabbing the books off your desk to add to the cart of growing stock. Despite Jeno's promise, he continued to cross reference "Stab!" while he read pieces from Gale Weathers' book. You swore, you couldn't get through a paragraph before your boyfriend said, "I remember that in the movie."

The sheet of paper that held your precious grade was zipped up into your bag, kept nice and neat in between your laptop and your textbook. Jeno held your hand as he walked you through the dark sidewalk down the University Road, where your shared apartment was located. Jeno and you have lived together since the second semester started in the last week of August.

The co-ed dorm you two lived in was fairly small — one floor and only 17 dorm rooms. It also happened to be the first place you met Jeno. Jeno originally stayed in the dorm room across from your own, which is the current one you both stayed in now. You remember him peeking out of his dorm room door with nothing on but a pair of grey sweatpants, shouting something at his friends as they ran down the hallway. You later found out they were his dorm mates — Mark and Donghyuck. When you stepped into the room, the striking contrast between the two sides of the room was nauseating. Jeno had action figures, replicas and movie posters decorating his side; something every movie buff held proud. Your side was almost empty. You barely had any decorations on the wall and the only decorated area was your desk. It wasn't much, but it was home, at least for now.

When the door to the room opened, you let out a sigh, kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag on the couch, you fell onto your tiny dorm bed. "Finally, nap time." You mumble.

Jeno set his own items down and sighed, "You should relax for now and then we'll pick up where we left off."

You had a routine of coming home from either work or school; kick off shoes, set stuff down, nap. It was the same every single day. Jeno had a very opposite routine. He always kept his slippers on, he neatly placed his items beside his desk and then he sat down, and watched a movie off his scratch away chart of the one hundred highest rated movies of all time.

Yet, today, he seemed to be in a different mood. He hung up the Billy the Puppet mask next to the plethora of other horror movie icons, before his hand brushed along his prized possession, the killer from the Woodsboro murders. It was a little odd that his favorite mask would be one from actual real life cases, but you know it wasn't because of that. It was because of "Stab!" but, you know if you try to explain that to someone, they'd just give you a dirty look and silently judge you, or more rather, your boyfriend. Maybe a little bit of you, as well, for trying so hard to defend your boyfriend.

Grabbing the mask of the infamous double killers, Jeno pulled it over his head, looking at you through the mesh eyeholes, crawling his way across the impromptu king bed, leaning close over your shoulder as you laid on your stomach. The smooth pvc plastic and the polyester fiber brushed against your skin, and you turned your head to look at him. "What do you think you're doing?" You asked with a bite.

Jeno shrugged, "I don't know. Aren't girls into this type of stuff?" He whispered through the mask, slowly lifting it over his head to look at you, "I thought girls were into the, like, masked guys and shit."

You scoffed, laying on your hand, "Some girls. And I don't think it's actual killers they're into."

Jeno shrugged, pulling the mask down once more, running his hands against your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing against your shoulder blades, "I don't know. I've seen some people into some pretty messed up guys."

You rolled your eyes again, "Some people are into that stuff." You shrugged, turning your head to the side as he ran his hands over your skin, "Fuck, I don't know, Jen. I hardly even know if I like my school major."

"Fine, fine." He scoffed, "But you don't even wanna try it with the mask on once?"

You rolled your eyes, "Take the mask off, Jeno."

Jeno sighed, pulling the mask off before tossing it to his side of the makeshift bed, "You don't even wanna spice up our sex life a little bit?"

You rolled over so you were on your back, his legs straddling your hips in some type of sick power play. He looks amazing up there, you thought. Your fingers traced the curve of his thighs, "I think our sex life is perfectly fine, if you ask me." You shrugged playfully, "Maybe some other time?"

Jeno groaned, "You're ruining this marriage." He responded sarcastically, "It's someone else, isn't it?" He crossed his arms.

"Yes, oh, my god, I completely forgot I was having sex with your manager from the theater." You gasped.

"With Jaehyun?" Jeon gasped, "I don't blame you. How'd you pull him?" Much to your dismay, he climbed off from on top of you, laying his head on your shoulder as you both laid down.

You shrugged, "You know, same way I pulled you."

Jeno rolled his eyes, "Okay, quit it. I'm actually starting to think you're fucking Jaehyun." He grumbled, "Speaking of Jaehyun, the Halloween Party. Are we going or what?"

"Yeah, sure. We have nothing else going on." You sighed, "I'd much rather go to a Halloween party at the theater than here at one of the sororities or frats." You rolled onto your side so you were facing Jeno, smiling sweetly.

"Sounds like a plan to me." He gave a dorky smile, "We could probably even skip the date night and just go to the party."

"You don't wanna see the movie?" You mumbled, "Wait, let me guess..." You cleared your throat, putting on your best "Jeno" voice, "They're actually showing Stab for the party, oh my god!"

"I don't sound like that."

"Um, actually, you do." You teased, nudging his shoulder. "Did I get it right?"

Jeno chuckled, shrugging, "It's the theatre's most popular re-releases. So, for them to close down early just so we can watch the movie for a party is pretty amazing." He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, "Plus, Halloween is our anniversary. It can be a two-in-one celebration."

"I guess you're right." You mumbled, "Pretty amazing." You repeated, fighting back a yawn, "I'm sleepy." You whispered as you curled up close to Jeno, smiling to yourself as you feel him cup the back of your knee to bring your leg over his hip.

His fingers brushed against the skin of your cheek, laying his head on top of yours, something he normally did when you'd nap so you had complete darkness, "Go to sleep, babe. I'll be here when you wake up." He whispered in your ear, barely above a whisper.

Your heart fluttered at his soft voice, feeling yourself already starting to drift to sleep, relishing in the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin, his other hand pinned against the bed as it was wrapped around your back and placed on your hip. While you pinned his arm down to keep him from moving, he had your head pinned down with his own. It was your preferred cuddling position; your own pretzel twist.

You woke up hours after you had fell asleep to a loud clatter from the window behind you. Jeno was no where to be seen, and you immediately tensed up at the sound. Laying perfectly still as if you were still sleeping, you didn't dare attempt to put your life on the line.

Oh, god, you thought, is this really happening right now? Your mind began to race with a million different thoughts, "I don't wanna end up on Cold Case Files," and "I don't want to go out this way."

"Shit." You heard in a familiar voice, turning around to see your boyfriend climbing in through the window.

You sat up straight, "Jeno?" You called out through your gravely and sleepy voice, squinting your eyes as your boyfriend shined the flashlight from his phone in your eyes, your hand shooting up to block the light from your eyes, "What are you doing?"

Jeno pointed to the door, "Locked myself out." He grumbled, stumbling as he finished climbing through the window, quickly bending down as a metal jingling echoed between the two of you.

You just glanced as Jeno quickly shoved the keys into his sweater pocket, too tired to care, "Hm..." You hummed as you laid back, "If you went out with Mark and Jaemin, I don't mind." You sighed.

Jeno chuckled as he made his way around the room to set down his items, "Heh, you caught me." He rubbed his neck, climbing into the bed beside you once more, "I snuck out an hour and a half ago to go out and eat."

You could tell he was just as tired as you were a few hours ago, but he was forcing himself awake, "What'd you guys eat?"

"Meat." Jeno shrugged, "Nothing exciting. You know those two." He buried his face further into the pillow, his eyes closing, "Did you sleep well, baby?"

You nodded, "Yeah." It's all you said, reaching your hand up to brush some of his hair from his eyes, your thumb brushing against his cheek, "As much as I'd love to stay here and cuddle, I should get that paper done."

Jeno hummed, peeking an eye open, "Did you want any help?"

Your heart warmed at the question; not because he asked, because he was willing to help you even though he was tired, "No," You whispered softly as you took into consideration his restlessness, shaking your head, "No, baby. Just rest. I can handle it." You placed a chaste kiss to his neck, slowly sitting up. You grabbed a plush blanket to wrap around your shoulders, making your way to your desk as you pushed yourself off the bed.

This was normally how you and Jeno both functioned; one was awake at the crack of dawn and asleep by 9pm, the other was asleep until noon and up until 3 in the morning. It's a miracle that the two of you found a way to be with one another.

Sitting at your desk, pulling out your Holy Grail of a assignment and set it neatly on the top, opening your laptop to look at the screen as you slowly booted it up. Seemed to be running fine, so you decided it should be okay to use, even if you had to keep it plugged in. The previous document saved just how you left it — empty and barren. You didn't even have a sentence on the screen.

Maybe technology wasn't the right move for schoolwork, you thought to yourself as you compared the two forms of documentation. The sheet of paper was a little more than halfway filled, and although the pen ink smudged from your hand swiping across the paper, it still looked pretty damn good. Compared to the digital sister, the paper seemed like the one who had everything all together.

You decided to pick up where you left off on the sheet of paper, using your laptop for music and the pdf of the books you used earlier open on each tab.

You looked up from the paper, squinting your eyes as you looked at the laptop screen, highlighting the words with the cursor.

"That's interesting." You titled your head to the side, reading the line of text in your head.

"Sydney Prescott was unaware at the moment, but she noticed when the killer attacked, her boyfriend, Billy Loomis, and his best friend, Stuart "Stu" Macher were no where to be seen."

The line made you uncomfortable, shifting in your seat at the thought, clearing your throat as you read the line over and over again. Gale Weathers then goes on to describe how significant it is that Sydney Prescott should've realized, but then again, you sympathized with Sydney. After all, she loved Billy.

God forbid Jeno did something like that, you'd probably have to be thrown into an asylum.

You decided procrastination was the best option for the evening, using the pen as a paperweight and closed the laptop screen. You stood up from the desk and sighed, scooting over to the bed before laying down beside the sleeping Jeno.

Despite your previous nap, you laid your head down on the pillow and felt yourself falling asleep.

That evening, you thought about Jeno and your upcoming date night/Halloween party. You opened your eyes through the night, glancing over to check on your boyfriend, going as far to adjust the blanket over his shoulder and brush hair from his eyes to just make sure it wasn't an illusion.

God, you just wished he wasn't a maniac like Billy Loomis.

Despite your best efforts to go to bed at an early time, you tossed and turned, you shivered, your legs grew restless. And then the sun peeked in through your window, and you only glared. 7 in the morning and you were awake even before your boyfriend. Your eyes burned from the lack of sleep and you couldn't help yourself but to curse the sun as it extended across the skyline. You sat up slowly from the bed, looking wistfully out the window of your dorm room, the blanket covering your legs.

The thoughts you had in the back of your mind from a few hours before still lingered in your head, because it's entirely possible for something like that to happen. It's entirely possible for a significant other to go off the bend and be a crazed murderer. And it's entirely possible that it can be the person you share a bed with.

You sighed softly as you pushed the thought away and stood from the bed, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You trudged along to the bathroom inside your dorm room, shutting the door behind you as you looked into the mirror. The eyebags were a dark grey, your eyes blood shot and your eyelids hung low. You looked like death to put it simply, and you felt it.

Turning on the sink and grabbing your toothbrush, you squeezed a glob of toothpaste onto your toothbrush and began to brush your teeth. Although, you were sure you weren't really brushing as you felt your eyes struggle to open every time you blinked, your grip on the brush weakening every time your eyes weighed closed.

The bathroom door opened and Jeno stepped inside, placing a kiss on the side of your head, "Morning, baby." He whispered, grabbing his own toothbrush, "Stayed up all night again?"

You looked at him through the mirror, shaking your head before rinsing out your mouth, "No." You mumbled, clearly half asleep, "I was, like, half asleep, half awake the whole night."

Jeno chuckled, brushing his teeth, "You get anything else done on the paper?"

"Yeah, I got a lot done." You nodded, setting the toothbrush back in the drawer you kept it in, stepping off to the side, "There was a lot I learned."

"It's interesting, right?" He spit out a glob of toothpaste, scraping his tongue before starting to brush his teeth once more, leaning on his hand against the bathroom counter.

"Yeah. I didn't know it was that complex..." You mumbled, "Do you have work today?"

Jeno rinsed out his mouth, sighing, "Yeah, baby, I do." He placed his toothbrush next to yours, looking at you with a faux pout, "Unfortunately."

You nodded, pressing a small kiss to his lips, "Well, I'll be here when you get off." You grabbed his hands, squeezing them, "You should probably get ready to go."

Jeno chuckled, kissing your lips again, "You want me to go that badly?" He teased, "You inviting Jaehyun over or something?"

You laughed, "No. Just don't want you to be late."

Jeno's hands rested on your hips, smiling, "Don't worry about that." He kissed you again, lifting you in his arms to sit you on the bathroom counter, his hands brushing against your thighs, "I have plenty of time."

You pulled away from the kiss, smiling, "Do you though? You still have to shower, get dressed, and put gas in the car. Or were you just gonna make me pay for it again?" You teased, climbing off the counter, "Take your shower." You stepped out the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

Jeno wasn't always the most punctual, which can be frustrating to you and to his co-workers. You wouldn't necessarily blame him, but you would blame his distractions. He has a lot on his plate; school, work, your relationship. He still needed to purchase a camera for his film class. He tries to act like it doesn't bother him, but you know on nights where he stays up a little later than usual, he's dwelling on it.

You sat down at your desk, trying to distract yourself from the exhaustion you felt by watching youtube videos your professor recommended and switching between that and writing your paper. Jeno stepped out from the bathroom and you felt the heat from the shower push into the room, and you smelt his conditioner in the air as he quickly got dressed for work.

"I'll be back later, baby." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, "Don't wait up, alright? Take a nap or something." He ran his fingers through your hair, and you turned to look at him.

"I hope you have a good day at work." You kissed his lips, smiling softly as he turned to walk out the door, "Why do you have that mask with you?"

Jeno paused, turning to look at his bag, "Chenle doesn't think it's an actual replica, so he said he wants to check it out on our break." He sighed, pushing his hair back with his hand, "I'll see you later baby." He smiled, stepping out the door and closed it behind him.

"Okay." You whispered, listening as his keys made a metallic sound down the hallway and the hydraulic door hinge squeaking as it closed shut.

Ever since last night, you actually sat down and read Gale Weathers' book, collecting the information from her eyes. Sure, she had a pretty shallow standpoint from it; This wasn't her trauma to write about. But, it was still pretty interesting as she pieced things together.

You were at least 5 chapters in, hunched over your laptop as you read, anxiously nibbling on your nails as Gale describes the beginning of the stressful months that were ready to approach them. Until, your phone rings. Of course it rings. First time you've actually read a book instead of skimmed the pages in months. You unlocked your phone, answering the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Y/N, it's Jaehyun." You could hear the popcorn machine popping behind him, "Jeno's manager from the cinema."

You chuckled, "I know who you are." You smiled to yourself, wondering if Jaehyun even knew the running joke that you and your boyfriend had; prevailing him as a God, "What's up, Jaehyun?"

"Well, Jeno's running a bit late. It's nearly been an hour and I haven't gotten a call or a text or anything from him." Jaehyun's voice shrunk, "Is he there?"

"No, no, he left a while ago. I thought he was heading to work." You put Jaehyun on speaker phone, immediately clicking the Find My app, scrolling to find Jeno, "I'm looking at his location right now and it says no location found." You mumbled.

"Alright, well, I'll try to give him a call or two. You should try, too. He might have had something happen to the car." Jaehyun spoke, "Just let me know. You have my number, right?"

"Yeah, I do." You mumbled, "I'll call him right now and let you know what's up." You quickly hung up and called your boyfriend.

Okay, he had awful sense of time and he wasn't punctual in the slightest but he's never been this late to work, especially when it helps him pay his bills and pay for that new camera he needed. You pressed the phone to your ear before it immediately was sent to voicemail with the automated voice telling you what you already knew: The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time.

Seriously? You scratched the back of your head, setting your laptop to the side as you leaned against your elbows. There was one way to find him, something that he never left the dorm without.

You opened the Find My app once more, and scrolled to his AirPods. Or more rather, your AirPods that he's borrowed more than you used after you got them. If he opened them recently, you would've been able to find where exactly he was. So you did just that.

But, much to your dismay, he hasn't opened them since the night before, his location still reading as the restaurant he went to last night with Mark and Jaemin.

You called Jaehyun back, "He didn't answer the phone and I tried to see if I could see where he was from the AirPods he used, but no use."

Jaehyun sighed, "Alright, thank you, Y/N." He mumbled, "I hope he'll be able to get off the hook for this. He better have a damn good excuse."

"I hope he does." You whispered, "Sorry I wasn't much help, Jaehyun."

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. You did more work than I did." He gave a small "goodbye" and hung up the phone.

You really hoped he had an explanation for what's going on. You weren't the type of person to immediately jump to conclusions, saying that he cheated. You don't think he's stupid enough to pull something like that.

You sighed, laying your head down on the desk as you drowned in your thoughts, feeling the exhaustion take over your body as laid there.

There it was again. A clatter from the window being forcefully pulled up. You immediately perked up, the drowsiness from the nap you don't remember taking stuck to your body. Your back hurt from being hunched over the desk where you napped.

You leaned back in your chair to peek over at the window, ignoring your back begging for a little bit of leisure after you slept like a ball for the past 4 hours. It was a little after 11 o'clock, 18 minutes before it turned noon.

Standing from your desk, you approached the window and looked out the glass, shocked to find nothing, or no one. Just the dying bushes planted by the school's agricultural center, and some fucked up tanbark that kept the moisture in the dirt.

"Hey, baby."

You jumped, turning to find your boyfriend standing behind you with his prized possession covering his face. "Jesus christ, Jen." You swore, pushing at his shoulder, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Got sent home." He shrugged, lifting the mask from his face with a smile, "The car ended up breaking down, my phone died and I had to walk 4 miles down the road to get there.” He dropped his bag on the footboard bench at the end of the bed frame, setting the mask on top of it.

"Jen, you really gotta start going to work in time." You sighed, "What if you get fired?"

"Come on, baby, it's just a part-time job." He chuckled, pulling you closer to him, "I can find something else."

"Fuck, Jen, do you know how bad that'll look if they call the theater and they have to tell them you're unreliable for calling out or for showing up late?" You ranted, letting go of his hands, "You know I can't afford to pay for this dorm by myself, let alone my school payments."

"Jeez, babe, relax." He chuckled, "Come on, why don't you take some of that aggression out another way?"

"Jeno," You sighed.

"Y/N," He responded, "When's the last time you and I had nasty, angry sex, huh?" He chuckled, grabbing your hands again, "I miss you, baby." He whispered, pulling you into a tight hug, squeezing you.

You hated to admit you missed it, too. Especially when you were this annoyed with Jeno, you hated that this was turning you on, listening to him talk about it.

"Come on, baby." He whispered in your ear, guiding your hand to the bulge in his pants, "Seeing you all angry gets me worked up, baby, I can't help it."

"Jeno." You rubbed him through his pants, "Jen,"

"Hm?" He pressed open mouthed kisses to your neck, his hands brushing against your skin in a desperate attempt to soothe his thoughts.

"Please, baby, just listen to me for 3 seconds."

Jeno pulled away from kissing your neck, humming, "Okay, okay, I'm listening."

"Tomorrow, you're going into work and you're gonna be on time, with your phone charged and everything." You cupped his cheek, "I don't want you to lose your job because you're late."

"Okay, mistress." He teased, "You've have a little dominatrix hidden, don't you?" Jeno kissed at your cheeks, as he cupped them.

"Stop making it sexual."

He chuckled, "I can't help it, baby. I romanticize everything you do, babe." He whispered gently before he kissed you, sitting you down on the mattress of the bed, "It's cute seeing you act all tough and strict." He kissed at your skin, pressing you down against the mattress, straddling your hips.

His tongue brushed against your neck as he kissed you, his hands pushing your shirt over your head, letting your hands rest on his thighs.

Jeno pulled away from kissing at your neck, smiling down at you, "Do we have any condoms left?"

You sat up, looking at the bedside table, "Probably in the drawer."

Jeno crawled off of you to rummage through the drawer, clicking his tongue, "Damn." He mumbled, flitting through papers before he let out an exclamation, pulling out the foiled packaging from between the pages. "Got it."

"I knew you'd find it." You smiled, gasping as he pulled you closer to him on the edge of the bed by your ankles, watching him kneel down.

"Mmhmm," He hummed, pulling your bottoms down your legs, his lips kissing at your legs, "So pretty." He whispered, teasingly biting at your thigh, "Wanna taste you, baby."

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair, watching Jeno's finger tangle in the waistband of your panties.

"That okay, baby?" He whispered breathlessly, his lips swollen from kissing at your legs.

You nodded, "That's fine, baby."

Jeno smiled, pulling your bottoms and underwear down your legs, kissing up your legs, his lips hovering over your cunt and his breath fanning against your wetness, "Fuck, you're already wet, baby?" Jeno's thumb rubbed at your clit, licking his lips.

"Jen..."

Chuckling, Jeno smiled, flattening his tongue against your cunt, moaning lightly as you drooled against his tongue, "Fuck, baby..."

You moaned sharply, your fingers tightening on his hair, "Jeno..."

Jeno smiled, kissing at your pussy as he continued to lick at your clit, his fingers slowly pressing into your entrance, pumping his fingers into you, "So tight, baby. So sweet." He groans, "You're so perfect, princess."

You gasped as his fingers brushed against your gummy wall, curling his fingers as his lips kissed your hip, a weak moan escaping your throat.

Jeno listened to your moans as he continued to pump his fingers inside you, sucking your clit and tasting you on his tongue. How sweet you tasted, how your slick drooled from the length of his fingers to knuckles, and how amazing your gasps and moans sounded to his ears; Like music, a symphony. If he could listen to your sounds on repeat, he would, over and over and over. He couldn't get enough, he wanted more, wanted you.

Giving a teasing peck to your slit, Jeno kissed your hip, your stomach and up your body until he stopped at your neck, taking in your scent as he struggled to unbuckle the belt he wore with his work pants. "Little help?"

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair once more before you moved your hands down to unbuckle his belt, the echo of the buckle settling around you both, letting Jeno's lips meet your own in a desperate kiss, his tongue pushing between to rub against yours, a deep growl escaping his throat as your thumbs hooked around his bottoms, helplessly attempting to tug them down his legs. Parting from your lips, Jeno gave a breathy chuckle, his breath fanning against your face. He grabbed the condom he set down on the bedside table, keeping his eyes torn from your own for no less than a second.

Tearing it open with his teeth, Jeno gently pulled the rubber from the packaging, rolling it along his length, “Fuckin’ finally.” He whispered to himself, “I missed feeling you." He pressed kissed along your jawline, listening to the gasp leave your lips as he slowly pressed into you. "Shit, you feel so good." He whispered.

Jeno slowly started moving, and you've been thinking — actually thinking about something he mentioned that you couldn't possibly know if it was a joke or if he was serious. You dug your nails into his arm, “Wait.”

His hips immediately stilled, and he looked down at you, “You okay, baby?”

You cleared your throat shyly, “I’m fine, I just—”

“What is it?” He chuckled, brushing hair behind your ear, “You can tell me, princess.”

You couldn’t believe you were saying this, and you couldn’t even believe you were considering it. But, you can’t knock something until you try it, “I was thinking we could try it with… the mask on…” You love looking at Jeno when you were having sex. You love seeing his expressions, looking into his eyes as he was buried into you and you loved watching his brows furrow together as he gets closer to cumming. But, there was something alluring behind the idea of the mask. Almost like it was a mystery to how he’s feeling. It was sounding more exciting as every second passed. And, you could see just how excited Jeno was as he reached over to where he set the mask down, smiling at you as he pulled it on. Attempting to move, you rested your hand on his chest, “Ah, first, some ground rules.”

Jeno moved the mask to the side, his eye peeking at you, “All ears.”

“First, keep the freaky murders out of this, okay?” You started, watching him nod, “Second, this is just to test it out. I didn’t wanna just immediately cross it off the list of freaky shit we’ve done if we don’t do it.”

“Understandable.”

“Third, Roleplay is optional. But, I’m keeping anything too crazy off the table.” You looked at him, “Got it?”

“Got it, baby.” He smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek, “I love you, princess.”

“I love you, too, Jen.” You cupped his cheek, kissing him on the lips, slipping your tongue along his own to reignite the fire that wasn’t completely snuffed. Jeno eagerly reciprocated, his moan vibrating against your lips.

“Damn, don’t know if I really wanna keep the mask on now.”

You giggled, pressing another kiss against his lips, “Better put it back on before I change my mind.”

Jeno placed the mask back against his face, his eyes showing the smile you couldn’t see through the barrier, “I’m gonna start moving, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” You nodded, biting your lips as you felt his hips moving at a slow pace, the moan caught in your throat bubbling over.

Jeno had some type of fixation with your hands, one hand tangling with your own as his other pinned yours against the mattress. He loved seeing your hands wrapped around his cock, his wrist, intertwined with his own. He loved feeling your hands tangled in his hair, grabbing his biceps and digging into his skin, sometimes around his neck, if you both felt that was the move. Your hands were his favorite part of you.

Jeno squeezed your hand in his own as his hips pressed into you deeper, swearing under his breath as he felt your pussy weep around his cock, “Feel so good, angel.” He groaned, throwing his head back, “Missed this pretty pussy.”

You whined, your chest heaving as you squeezed his hand in your own. Words attempted to escape, but only came out as gasps. Jeno always had a way of filling you to the brim, and bringing you to the edge quickly.

Jeno could feel how badly you missed his cock; squeezing around him, the choked moans and gasps, the way your body tensed, and how your eyes rolled behind your eyelids. Sweat lingered on his forehead behind the mask, his breath growing heavily as he watched you writhe in desperation, “Like that, baby?”

You nodded when your words betrayed you, feeling Jeno’s hands leave your own to grip your waist and move you along his length, “Fu-“ You moaned as his hips piston against your own, reaching your hand up to tangle in his hair under the fabric of the mask, “Just like that, Jeno.” You stuttered out to your best ability, the pleasure overwhelmingly covering your body in a sheen of sweat.

Jeno smirked under the mask, his thumb moving to rub at your clit to heighten your experience and bring you closer to the edge, “Such a good girl, telling me just how you want it.”

Every word Jeno said pushed you closer to the edge, your legs mindlessly wrapping around his hips, “Feels so good… I’m almost there, Jen.”

“Me too, princess.” He gasped, his eyes trained on where you two met, the white, creamy ring sitting at the base of his cock, “Fit together so perfectly.” He moaned out, his thumb continuing to rub harsh circles on your clit, “Feel it, baby? ’S like you were made for me. Such a pretty cunt for my cock.”

Your fingers tightened around his hair, tugging at the strands as he continued to speak, “Jen…”

“You cummin’ already, baby?” He chuckled, “Such a good girl, cumming on my cock. Wish I could fill you up and make you mine already. Wanna show everyone you’re my girl.”

As he continued his assault on your cunt, you hung onto his every word, your pussy clenching around him. The ability to form sentences with words and exclamation has long since been fucked out of your brain, the only thing repeating in your head was, “Jeno, Jeno, Jeno.”

Jeno let out a raspy moan, the mask brushing against your chest as you felt his cum fill the condom, the heat filling your belly with warmth. Your chests both raised in sync as you attempted to catch your breath. Pulling the mask off, Jeno stilled inside you, smiling down at you sweetly, "Good job, baby."

You smiled back, pecking his lips, "Good job to you, too." You hummed, leaning back on your elbows, "Okay, pull out. I gotta piss before I develop a UTI."

"I love when you talk dirty to me." He teased, pulling out of you slowly before he laid back on the bed, steadying his breathing. Laying his head on the arms he crossed behind his head, he glanced around the room while he waited for you to come back from the restroom, “Did you get any work done on your paper?”

Returning from the restroom, you laid down beside him, “No, because someone gave me a call saying some guy was missing and they didn’t know where they were.”

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Haha.” He laughed sarcastically, “I told you, the car broke down. I couldn’t do anything but walk there.”

“I’m just teasing.” You nudged him, curling against his side as he wrapped his arm around your waist, the both looking at one another sweetly.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“For what?”

“I know I’m shitty with getting to places on time, and you have every right to be mad at me for this. You shouldn’t be the only one who needs to deal with this.” He brushed his fingers along your side, rubbing his thumb along your hip, “I’m gonna listen to you, okay? I know it seemed like I wasn’t paying attention but I was.”

You pressed your forehead against his, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “I know, Jen. And, I appreciate you for everything you already do.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Jeno.”

You both settled for relaxing and enjoying one another’s company, especially considering you both rarely got days off together. Jeno played a movie on his charged phone, which you both cuddled and watched. And it wasn’t Stab much to your surprise. It was something you suggested. You used that as proof that he loved you, even if it was something small like this; Cuddling, watching a movie together, sharing kisses and random thoughts either of you had about the film. You couldn’t wait for another day like this, even if it was years away.

You don’t remember falling asleep, and you don’t remember Jeno leaving for work that morning. You don’t even think he said goodbye, and it didn’t smell like his shampoo in the dorm room, nor his cologne. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced around the room, for any sign he left for work; a note, a text message on your phone screen, or even a Tupperware bin with some food he made or ordered in. And after a long look around the room, you found the post-it note stuck to the paper of your notebook with all the information you could think to include in your report of the Woodsboro murders that read; “Be back later. Went to work. Make sure to finish your paper. Love you.” And in smaller hand writing underneath his already small lettering, he wrote, “P.S. Left some dirty clothes on the floor. I’ll do the wash later.”

Setting the note down, you sighed, walking around the small dorm room to find said clothes he left on the floor, but you couldn't find it. You checked the back of his chair, the bathroom, by the dresser, but you couldn't find it. You squat down, looking underneath the bed to find, lo and behold, the dirty clothes he left on the floor. You wondered how much of a rush he could've been in to kick them under the bed.

You reached under the bed, grabbing the clothes only to immediately drop it as soon as you pull it out, your hands covered in red liquid. It covered the floor where you had dropped it, a "splat" echoed in your head after you'd done so. It wasn't as thick and red as blood, and it definitely wasn't as thin and clear as water. You couldn't decipher what it was. It dried down quickly on your hands and the floor.

Horror aside, you rised from the ground, and grabbed a brush to clean the mess off the floor — you'd interrogate Jeno later — and scrubbed the living hell out of the floor. You were sure the finish over the hardwood floors were coming off by how hard you were scrubbing. You had to get the deposit back for the dorm room, even if you had to scrub the floor on your hands and knees.

Kneeling there, you felt tears brim your eyes as you thought to yourself, "What exactly am I cleaning up?" You felt your arms burn with each motion you made, you felt your breathing grow heavy. You could count this as your workout for the week.

"Jeno, you idiot." You whispered to yourself, the tears rolling down your face, gasping for air. "God, this is so stupid." You used your sleeve to wipe at your cheeks, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

You tried to push the thought from your mind, deciding to just focus on your other preoccupation, which was sitting inside your laptop, begging for any type of attention from you divided brain. So, you did. Cross-referencing your notes, reading the PDF of the books on your laptop and then switching over to Microsoft Word to type anything that came to mind, as long as it's relevant.

Yet, you could feel your mind drifting.

You sat there, pausing as you thought about everything you've read as if you could even begin to connect it to your life. There's so much Sydney Prescott went through that you couldn't even begin to comprehend. Rubbing your temples, you were reaching the final stretch of the paper, attempting to type out a conclusion that would make any type of sense for it.

The dorm room opened and you turned briefly to find your boyfriend walking in with the earbuds in his ears, "Hey, baby." He walked over, pecking your head, "How's the paper coming along?"

You tapped your pen against your notebook, "I'm stuck."

Jeno began to dress down from his work uniform, his eyes glancing at his side of the bed, the green and white heavy duty scrub brush laying on the ground, covered in the diluted red suds. "Did you grab the clothes?"

"I was trying to." You mumbled, "What was on them?"

"Why'd you do that?" Jeno voice was deeper and you can see his brows furrow as he looked at you.

You turned around in your seat, looking at him, "I was trying to help."

"I told you I'd do it." He shouted.

"Jen, I was just-"

"I said I'd pick them up and wash them."

You glanced down at the clothes on the floor, whatever was on them leaking between the floorboards and you winced at the thought of it staining the floor. "I just wanted to help! The laundry basket isn't far from where you put them."

"Well, I was in a rush. I didn't have time to throw them in the basket. That's why I left them on the floor."

You sighed, rubbing your eyes, "I just thought I was saving time by moving it to the basket."

Jeno pulled his work shirt off, groaning, "I didn't want to ruin the other clothes in there."

"And just leave it to soak into the flooring?"

"No— God, fuck." He threw his work shirt into the laundry basket before picking up the soiled clothes and placing them inside, "There, happy?"

You looked at him, "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" He grumbled, "Just wish you didn't have such lousy faith in me."

"I never said I did."

"You sure as hell implied it." He grabbed the basket and walked out the dorm room to the laundry room down the hall.

Your eyes narrowed at the back of his head before you went back to your paper, finishing it off in record time. It was finally time to prepare your paper to be printed, turned in and graded. You unplugged your laptop, making sure to save your finished paper before you shut it off and carried it out to the library.

You gave the two dollars and fifty cents to the librarian to use the printer, and stood by the machine to print out your report.

As the belt of the printer echoed through the library and watched each paper spit out after one another, the ink bleeding into the back, you were now preoccupied with everything you read about the Woodsboro murders, what exactly your boyfriend was upset about and whether or not, you should be the one to apologize. You didn't think you were doing anything wrong. You thought you were helping by grabbing the clothes. You really weren't concerned about whatever was on it anymore; all you know is you were happy it wasn't blood.

Maybe this whole report was getting to your head. You've read Sydney Prescott's encounters too much to the point you were scared what she went through was happening to you. How impossible is it?

You're just paranoid. You're being delusional and dramatic and you could only do your best to gaslight yourself into believing you're being a crazy girlfriend who had no reason to make your boyfriend feel like an idiot.

Drowning in your thoughts, you didn't draw your eyes away from the printer, unaware of the beeping it gave you to grab the papers it finished printing out.

Like you were a puppet, you grab the papers, tucking them under your arm with your laptop, and made your way to the hole puncher, pressing down on the lever after setting the papers inside.

Everything felt like ten tasks wrapped into one as you did them, like it was neverending.

You hole punched the papers, and placed them onto the counter, "Hi," you smiled to the librarian.

"Hi, what can I help you with?" She reciprocated the smile.

"I wanted to purchase one of the report covers." You nodded your head to the item, opening your wallet.

She rised from the chair, grabbing the cover.

You glanced down at the glass box you placed your laptop and papers on, eyeballing a newspaper that was displayed in the box. From what you could read through the glass, there seemed to have been some recent murders around the area. Jesus, you spent these last two days inside like some recluse and people have been dying.

“Can… Can I also get one of these papers?” You asked, pointing at it through the glass.

The librarian nodded her head as she set the items down, using the key on her keyring to open the glass case and grab a newspaper, setting it down beside the covers and your items, “All right, your total will be 5 dollars even.”

You dropped the bill onto the counter, grabbing your items and made your way out of the library. You anxiously hurried back to your dorm, opening the door to the room, setting the items down on your desk. The newspaper laid flat on your desk, your eyes reading over the article from a distance.

It was nauseating, reading over the details. Two people gone in two days… It was hard to stomach it.

You sat down on your chair, staring at the front page. To think you were perfectly fine while these people were living their last day being tortured. Obviously, you couldn’t have worn a cape and saved them, but, you wished there was something you could’ve done to prevent something like this from happening. The addresses seemed all too familiar. Like, you’ve seen them before. Somewhere familiar almost.

The door opened and you heard a sniffle from the doorway, “Oh, baby.” Jeno whispered, wandering over to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “Baby, I’m so sorry. I-I had a rough day at work, hearing shit from Jaehyun and everyone about yesterday, and I took it out on you and I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be making a big deal over you helping, especially not since our anniversary is tomorrow.”

You rubbed his head as he nuzzled his nose against your neck, “It’s okay, baby.” You kissed his cheek, “Hey, have you heard about this?” You motioned to the newspaper.

“About what?” He lifted his head, looking at the front page of the newspaper, “Yeah… Yeah, I heard about it. Chenle was mentioning it at work today.”

“It’s sad.”

“It is.” He sighed, rubbing your shoulder with his hand, “All we can do right now is just be happy it wasn’t us.”

You felt the lump in your throat strain as you tried to keep your tears back, “I guess you’re right.”

Jeno pecked your cheek, glancing at the papers on your desk, “You finished the report?"

“Yeah.” You folded the newspaper up, setting it off to the side, flitting your fingers through the paper, “Wanna read it?”Jeno scoffed, “Uh, yeah.” He grabbed the paper, beginning to read through it in silence, as if he was absorbing the information. You sat there, waiting for his input, which was often accompanied by the mention of his favorite movie.

Jeno read the pages all too quickly, turning to look at you, “You always have such a way with words, baby.” He set them down beside you, “You’ll definitely get a high grade on it.”

You smiled, threading the paper through the loops, preparing it to be turned in, the cover with your name, title of the report, class, et cetera, et cetera at the top. “I’m glad you think so.”

“You put work into it. Compassion, care, intellect. You would deserve it.”

“How’d the wash go?”

“They’re in the dryer right now.” Jeno leaned back on the bed, pulling his phone out, “Should be done in 20 minutes. More or less.”

Your heart still ached from what Jeno said earlier, so you returned his answer with silence, not able to find words to express yourself. At least, not yet. You decided to keep it under wraps until after your anniversary tomorrow. After the party. After Halloween.

It was Halloween night. Jeno and you have spent the beginning of your anniversary cuddling in bed, whispering soft “Happy Anniversary”’s to one another. He took you out to breakfast, lunch and shopping. “Just to show you off,” Jeno tried to convince you. But, now, it was time to sit through the two hour long movie Jeno and you both shared every anniversary. Jeno thought it’d be funny to dress up in the Ghostface costume for the evening, since he was the “star” of the movie. He said that, “behind the mask, it wasn’t just Billy Loomis or Stu Macher. Together, they worked as one.”

“I got an A on my paper.” You briefly mentioned as Jeno drove you both to his work place. Turns out, his car just needed a jumpstart.

“That’s great, baby. I knew you’d get a good grade.” He chuckled, turning his head to look at you before looking at the road again, “What’d you get docked off?”

“Turns out, I was a bit too sympathetic in my writing. I got docked a few points for ‘appearing too biased’.” You shrugged, “It’s whatever.”

Jeno chuckled, “Well, I thought it was amazing.” He smiled as he pulled into the parking lot of the theater, “Just goes to show that you have a better point of view than other people. Not everyone will understand that.”

Unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing your bag, you exited the car, “I guess, but I understand it from my professor’s perspective. It’s supposed to be an informational report, not an opinion discussion board.”

Jeno followed, locking the door behind you both, “Doesn’t mean you can’t share your opinion.” He grabbed your hand in his own and guided you to the front doors of the theater. The theater was covered in Halloween decorations, and it was unfortunate that it’d all have to come down after this evening.

Jaehyun and Jeno’s other managers were handing out drinks and popcorn to your boyfriend’s coworkers, who wandered off to the theater they were all familiar with. Approaching the counter, you heard a loud “Boo!’’ echo off the walls, causing you to jump and hold your hand to your chest.

“Chenle, what the fuck?” You scolded, glaring at him through your lashes.

“Dude, Chenle, I told you not to do that stuff tonight.” Jeno sighed, rubbing his temples, “I told you Y/N’s been freaked out cause of all the shit happening.”

“My bad. I meant to scare Jeno more than I did to you, Y/N.” Chenle chuckled, “Sorry.”

You sighed softly, “Doesn’t help that it already happened.”

Jeno wrapped his arm around your shoulder, silently comforting you as he spoke with Chenle, “We’re wearing the same costume.”

“We, indeed, are.” Chenle sighed, “You just can’t stop copying me.” He glanced down at the mask he held in his hand, “Is that the replica? Are you seriously wearing it to this?”

Jeno scoffed, “Where else am I gonna wear it?” He questioned, moving up in the line as it progressed, “I can’t keep it hanging up on my wall forever.”

Your heart settled in your chest as you walked up to the counter, looking at Jaehyun, mouthing a quiet, “Help.”

Jaehyun already knew the predicament you were in; forced to listen to the conversation of two movie buffs talking about “Stab!” He’s had to deal with it for the last 4 years the two had worked there. There was times he’s even had to apologize for interrupting their precious reminiscences of the movie. “Chenle, Jeno, Y/N, what can I get for you guys?”

“Jaehyun!” Chenle greeted him over the counter with open arms, “Be a doll and get the lady some Sour Patch. I scared her half to death trying to scare her boyfriend.”

Jaehyun sighed, glancing at you, “Freaked out about those things happening around town?”

“You could say so.” You accepted the candy the man offered, “Just found about it yesterday, too.”

“Yeah, she could hardly sleep last night.”

“Babe,”

“What?” Jeno shrugged, “Not saying it’s a bad thing. Just a little uncharacteristic of you.”

You sighed, letting Jeno grab the popcorn and the drinks for you two, “Thank you, Jaehyun.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” He smiled, nodding his head to you.

Jeno guided both you and Chenle to the theater the movie was showing in, letting you take the lead up the stairs. There they were, the seats you both sat in 3 years ago, still in the condition you remember them in. So many people have sat in these chairs and would never understand just how much it has meant to you and your relationship. You sat in the aisle seat, gently taking the drinks in your hand as your boyfriend sat down beside you. He was quick to lift the arm rest between you two to pull you closer to him, his arm wrapped around your waist with the popcorn bucket sat in between you both. He accepted his drink and set it down in the cup holder.

“Just like all those years ago.” Jeno sighed, resting his head on top of yours.

You smiled to yourself, grabbing his hand in your own, “As much as I pretend to hate this movie, it still has a special place in my heart.”

Jeno kissed your knuckles, watching as his co-workers and plus one’s fill their seats. The smell of butter on popcorn filled the air, and the quiet chatter between everyone echoed off the wall.

Jaehyun entered the theater, standing at the front near the screen, “Happy Halloween, everyone!” He greeted, crossing his arms over his chest as everyone repeated the words, “Much to my reluctance, your coworkers requested this movie to be shown because of the connotation that it is the halloween movie to watch.”

Jeno and Chenle both gave hoots and hollers at the mention of their suggestion getting picked.

“It also happens to be the first movie our favorite visitor saw with her boyfriend here at the theater.” Jaehyun motioned to both you and Jeno, everyone turning to look at you, “This is also a token of our appreciation to our team for the close end-of-the-year. We would not be here without all of your guys help and hard-work.”

The theater filled with clapping, cheering and sweet words called out to everyone’s favorite manager.

“Settle down, everyone.” He chuckled, “Alright, everyone. Presenting this evening is Stab! Please silence your cell phones and enjoy the movie.”

The lights turned down and you watched the film light up the screen. No previews, no movie trailers, just pure film. It started out how it always did; Casey Becker popping popcorn on the stove, the harsh lighting of her house bringing out the color of her blonde hair.

Despite watching the movie multiple times, every fake jumpscare, every fake gore still made you jump and turn away from the screen. Jeno chuckled, comforting you as best he could, pecking your head.

"I've got to use the restroom." You whispered, attempting to stand up.

"Wait, you'll miss it." Jeno focused on the screen as he watched the movie intently, absorbing everything.

"Jen, we see the movie all the time. I'm sure I know what happens." You stood from the seat, glancing at the row behind you, gasping softly.

The row that was once filled with Jeno's coworkers was now empty with a horrific scene that you couldn't stomach.

Heads slumped forward, bodies slack, popcorn spilling out on the floor as the hands they had on the paper bucket were loosened.

You nudged Jeno's shoulder, unable to speak, who only glanced behind him, a sigh escaping his lips, "He always does this."

"What?" Your brows furrowed, "Jeno, what?"

Jeno set the popcorn down on the now empty seat beside him, where Chenle was.

"You... You—"

Jeno covered your mouth with his hand, covering his face with the mask, speaking through the mesh, "You're too trusting."

You felt your bottom lip quiver as he looked at you through the eyeholes, the tears rolling down your cheeks. You were an idiot, such an idiot. The sneaking out despite having his keys, the car "breaking" down, the dirty clothes, the disappearing. How didn't you see it? How didn't you see that he was the problem this whole time?

"You seriously believed I wasn't doing anything against your wishes?" He whispered, "You're such a dolt. You'd think reading all the books on criminal behavior would have made you more aware of what you were getting into."

"Jen..." You mumbled through his hand, "Please, ju-just let me go. I-I won't tell anyone."

Jeno clicked his tongue as he nodded his head towards Chenle wandering around the ground floor, holding Jaehyun by the back of his neck, bringing you both face to face, "You're too cute, thinking you'll be getting out of this."

The movie continued to play in the background and you couldn't help but repeat all the lines in your head.

Jaehyun struggled against Chenle's grip, his brows furrowed.

"For what it's worth, I actually was in love with you." Jeno whispered in your ear, "Every time I was with you, I felt butterflies in my stomach and my chest ached every time I thought about being apart from you." He rested his chin on your shoulder, "Consider this orientation."

He wrapped your hands around a clip pointed blade, one you didn't even know he owned, guiding it to point at Jaehyun's stomach, yet not piercing the skin just yet.

"All you have to do is push this blade into his belly. Kinda like gutting a pig."

You shook your head, your face contorting as he explained it to you. The tears continued to roll down your cheeks and over the black gloves Jeno wore.

"I told you she didn't have it in her, Jeno." Chenle chuckled, "She's too humanitarian."

"Shut up." Your boyfriend — or rather, at this point, your ex-boyfriend — glared, "She's gonna have to get some blood on her hands if we don't want to go down by ourselves."

Jaehyun attempted to yell, Chenle's hand covering his mouth quickly.

During the little squabble the two wannabe Ghostface's were having, your hand loosened on the knife that Jeno had released to point at Chenle.

Jaehyun and you both made eye contact, silently communicating with one another. He nodded his head to the knife in your hand, you shook yours, and he looked at Jeno, raising his eyebrows. You knew what he was telling you to do. "Use the knife on your boyfriend who was actually a homocidal maniac and planned this whole entire thing."

Using the knife Jeno planted in your hand was you accepting that everything you put in for the last 3 years was over. That despite all your efforts to put him up on a pedestal as the "best boyfriend who might have an odd obsession with this slasher film" was all for nothing. That all those things people have whispered about him was true and that you were nothing more than enabler. That you were none the wiser to all these strange behaviors coming from your boyfriend.

It made you nauseous to believe that were put into this situation and you dragged innocent people into it.

Jaehyun was almost begging you, pleading you, to set all those feelings aside and to get the upper hand in this situation. He wanted you to realize that this may be the end of 3 years but that you'll be free from the gossip, from the worry of what he was truly doing, from spending an extra 3 years trying to convince yourself that Jeno is a good guy and not some maniac under wraps.

You shook your head, feeling your bottom lip tremble as you considered the options. You could either let the two toy with Jaehyun and yourself like you guys were fashion dolls, or you could attempt to end this now and give them a taste of their own medicine. It was hard to detach yourself from Jeno — you had spent every day of your life with him after that first day. You both moved in, you adjusted your schedules for one another, you shared bills, you shared chores, you shared one another. You drag your eyes along the mask that Jeno wore, silently wishing it was just some big, giant cruel prank that would end with Ashton Kutcher coming out with a camera crew and a team telling you you had gotten punk'd in this day and age.

I can't, I can't, I can't, you whispered to yourself as the tears were pouring from your eyes, gripping the knife and turning in Jeno's arm; which seemed to loosen out of habit; the knife meeting his abdomen.

"Ow!" Jeno looked at you, glaring, "You stabbed me!"

You held the crimson-stained blade in your hand, sobbing, "Please, Jen... Please don't do this!"

He looked to Chenle, then back at you, "I've never been stabbed before."

Jaehyun used the distraction as a way to make his way out of Chenle's grasp, blocking you with his body, "Both of you, you can walk away from this."

You let Jaehyun block you, exchanging the knife between your hands, allowing him to hold it out in front of him.

"Walk away?" Jeno's gloved hand covered the wound, "It's too late for that." He chuckled darkly, "You know why other killers get caught so fast?"

"Jeno, please stop!" You screamed.

"Because they don't take the extra precautions; different sized shoes than regular ones, different cologne, different clothes than regular. They never take the time to make a whole new persona."

The two walked up the stairs, pushing you both into the back row, Jaehyun's hand holding your shaking one in his, "Jeno, Chenle, please. Let us go. You already got everyone else in the theater. What does it matter if there's 2 left?"

"Because if she lives," Chenle pointed, "We're suspects."

"And if you live," Jeno whispering almost sinisterly, "She has a witness."

"I won't say a word, please... please, Jeno, you know I won't. You know I won't say anything." Your bottom lip wobbled, "Just let us go."

The movie continued to play in the background, the contours of the mask illuminated by the scene on the screen, "Don't you remember this scene, Y/N?"

You glanced at the screen briefly, being reminded of the first date you both shared; It was when Billy confronted Sydney after being arrested. Jeno was holding you close to his chest that first day together, like he didn't have a care in the world that it was your guys first date.

You shut your eyes, squeezing Jaehyun's hand in your own, which he reciprocated in comfort. Jeno spoke, but you tuned it out, trying to calm down from the anxiety attack that rised in your chest.

Jaehyun, Jeno, Chenle. Chenle, Jeno, Jaehyun. The conversation continued on and on, each arguing with one another as if it was over the last slice of pizza.

You weren't a final girl, and never did you have it in you to be a final girl. Like Chenle said, you're too humanitarian. But, you stood against the wall, your heart thumping in your chest as Jaehyun defended you both with the knife.

Everything was a blur; Jeno and Chenle teaming up against Jaehyun, Jaehyun receiving a wound on his cheek, You couldn't move. You were frozen. This wasn't a movie, it wasn't a stupid sequel to "Stab!". You were forced to watch this go on, and you could barely move.

Jeno gave a final look at you through the mask, before a thud echoed across the theater, Chenle falling right after.

You sobbed silently as you looked at your boyfriend laying on the floor of the theater, annoyed to see the cold pvc plastic of the mask and not his handsome face that you grew so familiar to seeing.

Jaehyun kneeled beside you, grabbing your hand, "Come on. We've gotta get out of here." He helped you up, and you half expected for Jeno to follow after you, not as this monster he became, but as your boyfriend.

"Jeno..."

"No, come on." Jaehyun whispered, letting you continue to stare at him as he lead you down the hallway of the auditorium. "Last time I hire Stab fanatics." He grumbled to himself, sitting you down at a square table in the lobby as he called the police on the theater's phone.

You glanced at Jaehyun, noticing the blood seeping through his work shirt, his breathing heavy.

"You're hurt."

Jaehyun quickly gave as much information as he could to the police, before he hung up and looked at you, "I'll be fine. First responders should be here soon."

You sighed, "I'm half expecting Jeno to come through the door and tell me he's ready to go home."

"It'll be hard to get used to." Jaehyun winced, leaning against the concession counter.

"I don't know if I want to get used to it."

Jaehyun sighed, "He tried to kill you." He mumbled, "He tried to have you kill me." He looked at you, "He didn't know you. Someone who loves you would never subjugate you to that."

The shock was enough to force you to stop crying, rubbing your arm with your hand. Jaehyun was right; if Jeno truly loved you, he'd never put you into this situation. The sirens and lights reflected and echoed off the walls just as the first responders arrived.

Jaehyun offered his hand to you, which you kindly took as he led you out the door.

It's been weeks since everything at the theater went down. Jaehyun and you met up frequently for emotional support. You're in therapy after everything that happened. You'd still find yourself thinking about Jeno, waking up in the morning questioning where he was.

That evening at the theater, after the police arrived, Jaehyun was transported to the hospital for treatment. Leaving you alone outside the theater, sniffling to yourself. They exited just as quickly as they entered.

"Didn't see anything." One of the police officers said to another and you whipped your head towards them, making it completely obvious that you were listening.

"You telling me there wasn't two adults in hooded robes with those cheesy Ghostface masks?"

"Nope. Only those victims in the seats."

You moved back in with your mother after that. You spent more of your time looking over you shoulder, in fear you'd see your ex-boyfriend with a knife, rather than enjoying your life as it is now.

You could hardly settle in your bedroom, laying on your side watching the movie on your television screen. Nothing too exciting, just a re-run of Mrs. Doubtfire. With your head leaning on your hand and your blanket over your shoulders, you heard a creak behind you.

You didn't dare look, but from the mirror you had angled to face your bedroom door, you saw the same pvc plastic you see in your nightmares, and the shine of the blade.

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felixbit · 4 months ago

Text

decorating

── flufftober day eleven, masterlist tbd lee know x gn!reader, w. 1.1k

As things began to pick up, it was very clear decorating was in order. Both you and Minho had been busy with other things that making the place look festive for Halloween had gone onto the back burner for a while.

So, you’d asked Minho on your first day you both had off together if you could do a full day of shopping and decorating. He was pretty enthusiastic about wanting to decorate, although it didn’t seem like his style. Either way, you piled into the car with a destination and a plethora of ideas in your head.

Once you’d arrived at the store, you made a beeline for the Halloween decorations and found multiple people already perusing. Minho got distracted pretty fast while you looked through every aisle, getting a quick idea of everything they had around.

By the time you’d gone through looking at everything, you found Minho kneeling down and holding something in his hand. Tapping him on the shoulder, he looked up at you with stars in his eyes, holding what was in his palm up for you to see.

It was a skeleton cat decoration. Minho was grinning profusely. “Do you like it?” He asked.

“Why am I not surprised?” You chuckled, nodding your head, “I love it.”

“So, we can..” Minho looked sheepishly at the rest of the cat decorations that had seemed to all be grouped together in one spot.

Sighing, you nodded. “Go wild.. I’ll be back, there’s other things we need to get. Just put stuff in the basket and I’ll check back and make sure you haven’t gone mad picking out cat stuff.”

Minho looked like a kid in a candy store for the few seconds you saw him looking through all of the spooky cats, but you had to pry your eyes from your overexcited boyfriend. Your attention turned back to the task at hand: pick out some items that you could put around the apartment.

Your haul ended up being not too significant, but enough that you knew you could put at least two or three things in every room while making room for whatever Minho had in store.

When you checked back, you were shocked but not surprised to see the basket filled with cat decor. He’d even gone so far as to slip away to grab some cat-themed Halloween cookies and put them on top of the rest. Sighing and shaking your head, you looked at Minho whose attention was still taken by the shelves. “Wow.”

Whipping his head towards you, Minho looked around a little nervous. “You said.. go wild.”

“And that you did, Min, that you did.” You said in disbelief as you looked at the plethora of things he’d collected. “Can I convince you to stop before you grab anything else?”

Another cat item was in his hand, but he slowly placed it back down on the shelf where he found it. “Do you think we have enough?”

“Maybe, but we can always come back later if you think we need more,” You gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and he nodded.

Minho looked a little dejected as you finally began to walk to the register to check out. The cashier luckily complimented the two of you on your collection of cat-themed items, and that brought Minho’s smile back. He gave a small ‘thank you’ before you paid and left the store.

As you put your things in the car and climbed back into the passenger seat, you turned to your boyfriend. “So, you ready to finally decorate? The apartment has looked far too dull for how far we are into October.”

“Yeah, I think we need to give it a little life,” Minho agreed as he started the car, pulling out of his parking spot and beginning the trip home.

The car ride was nice and peaceful, getting to look at all the leaves that had begun to change color and fall onto the sidewalks, bringing out a new color to the otherwise gray walkways.

The drive wasn’t all that far, but it was a bit of a challenge bringing up all of the decorations you and Minho had picked out. They had to separate them into quite a few bags just to make sure they didn’t break on the way home, so it took a few trips up and down to the car to get them all into the apartment.

Once you had finally gotten everything sorted and gotten settled in, you and Minho began to sort the decorations out and set them in groups. There were a surprising variety of cats that made it into more groups than you expected, but there were no complaints on your end.

That task didn’t take too long, and then the two of you got to planning out which room got what. This took a bit of bickering and compromise, but you got through it. Minho had decided almost all of the decorations going into the bedroom had to be cat-related.

You’d begun to set up the decorations with Minho when one of your actual cats walked in, which stole Minho’s attention. You’d hardly thought about it until you heard a small yell from Minho and turned around to see the commotion.

He held the skeleton cat decoration, the first one he’d found, in his hand and had begun to scold the cat. You walked over, giving the cat some pets and looking at Minho curiously.

“What did Soonie do, honey?” You asked, picking your cat up in your arms.

Minho scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Tried to knock this over and break it! I was surprised I even caught it..”

You gave Soonie a few more pats before setting him down on the bed, where he promptly laid himself down into a loaf. “Well, he certainly looks sorry for almost breaking his cat brethren.”

The rest of the decorating process sped up, the vision becoming clear between the two of you. It had only taken another hour and a half before you put on the final touches. You’d done a full walk through with Minho, who seemed content with how it all turned out.

Minho decided to celebrate by bringing out the cat cookies to eat. They turned out to be very sweet, only able to eat one each before you retired back to your room.

You and Minho found all three cats on your bed, sighing at your space being occupied by your pets. “So.. do you want to watch a movie on the couch?” You asked.

“Mm. I can pick something out.” He nodded.

“Alright, I’ll light that candle we got. Could you grab a blanket?”

“Yep.”

#lee know #lee minho #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know skz #minho skz #stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fic #drabbles #flufftober

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whoopsyeahokay · 8 months ago

Text

October Sun

summary: Xavier had been tormented by many things since Maddie's disappearance, Simon's distrust and hostility at the top of the list. but there'd been other things that'd kept him up at night as well, and for a much longer time. I know we don't talk about it, he'd said, but maybe we should...

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.20

Xavier stood in front of the closed door, wary, unsure if he was allowed to open it. He knew what was behind it, knew you were in there because you hadn't been in your room when he'd gone to check on you after he'd heard the pipes shudder and the water stop.

He'd spent the last thirty minutes with Abigail—your grandmother—in the kitchen, their conversation skirting around the topic of your panic attack as if admitting what had caused it would conjure another episode. Abigail had fed him cookies and chocolate milk like he was still the little boy she'd been introduced to years ago, all scraped knees and peach-fuzz hair, adult teeth too big for his smile.

A massive tupperware of spaghetti and meatballs waited for him on the bench in the foyer where he'd kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket upon entering the house. Abigail always fretted over him. Hugged him and held him like her own. Xavier adored her. Adored your whole family, really; profoundly grateful to be accepted as part of it. Especially after his own had dissolved into something he couldn't hold together no matter how much he'd tried.

Still, being accepted into your family didn't mean Xavier had access to every corner and cranny. Some things were off-limits, private, For Our Eyes Only, and the room he lingered outside of was one of them. But, fuck it, he'd already missed his Bio test; had skipped last period to get you home safe, and he needed to make sure you were okay before he left.

With a grounding breath, Xavier summoned the courage and opened the door.

The room was daytime-dark, curtains drawn, the stars tacked on the ceiling glowing an eerie, phosphorous green. He could easily make out the child-height furniture. The shelves of picture books and action figures. Spiderman sheets, sleeves of Pokémon cards, and a stack of VHS tapes Aurora had insisted on playing whenever she'd been forced to babysit—"This sucks, Rory, we want Netflix!"—"Shut up. This is so much better!"

The air smelt stale, stuffy, and there was a thick film of dust on every surface but the bed. A shrine untouched in the years between Then and Now.

Xavier's eyes fell to where you sat on the floor, knees up, head tipped back to rest on the low, single bed. He wanted to turn around. Leave. Being there felt intrusive. But, you didn't yell at him. Didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't throw something at his head. You barely acknowledged him apart from patting the ground beside you in behest.

He dropped down easily; accepted your weight when you slumped into his side, head on his shoulder, damp hair soaking a wet patch into the collar of his shirt. He rested his elbows on his knees, hand clasped around opposite wrist, and pressed his cheek into the top of your head. Glancing down the length of you, he noticed the stuffed lion in your arms. A long, gangly thing with a round face and button eyes, features sewn in black thread on a corduroy canvas.

Aidan had toted that thing around like a limb, Xavier remembered.

It hurt everywhere to think of the little boy who'd inserted himself into the sleepovers and hangouts you'd had in elementary school. Afternoons and evenings spent shooing him away only to give in within minutes because neither you nor Xavier or Hana had the heart to say no to him.

"Sissy~, I want to play, too!"

A lump formed in Xavier's throat, pressure behind his eyes that he ignored to ask, "Are you okay?" He kept his voice just above a whisper, the way people spoke in church. Afraid to disturb the spectral peace that pervaded the room.

After several beats, you finally admitted, "I don't think so," and held the lion tighter.

Xavier didn't know how to respond, the agreement you'd both made six years ago—no questions asked—weighing his conscience down. He wanted to respect the promise. Had always respected it just as you had done for him. However, things felt too heavy not to at least broach the subject.

On a shaky exhale, Xavier ventured, "I know we don't talk about it, but...maybe we should."

"Zav..."

"No, listen, you freaked the fuck out back there and it scared the shit out of me. I haven't seen you that bad in years." He nudged you off his shoulder with a minute shrug, shifting to prop his head against the bed. You studied him, thick lashes starred from your shower, and eyes glassy. The misery miring your expression was visible enough through the dark that Xavier felt guilty for saying anything. He said anyway, "Please don't shut me out."

His mother had very little interest in him; his dad treated him like an unbroken animal. And Maddie...he'd fucked that up so much that, even if she came back, he wouldn't be able to look her in the eye. And yes, yeah, he'd done it to himself, okay? He knew that. He'd always made sure not to let himself get too comfortable. Kept people at arm's length because, if he didn't, it would hurt so much worse when they eventually left.

But you were different. You'd been there since he'd pushed Harrison Levi out of the sandbox in kindergarten and split the kid's eyebrow open. The only one in the class who hadn't been afraid of Xavier after that, and had shared your crayons and glue during crafts period.

Xavier needed you like a lifeline, the one person in the whole damn world who saw him for who he was and hadn't left him in the past. You'd stayed through the angst of his parents' separation; through a childhood filled with inappropriate humor and distasteful comments. Through above-average forgetfulness and outbursts he couldn't control.

He felt the warmth of your breath on his cheeks, smelt peppermint toothpaste and vanilla shampoo; faces close, sides pressed together in a soft line. An intimate bubble of privacy and safety.

"I saw Ms. Chung in the hallway before class." You said at last, as if that explained everything, and okay, sure, Xavier could work with that.

Kind of. "Who?"

"The grief counselor that Principal Hartman brought in on Monday." You elaborated. "She, uhm...She was the counselor I saw after..."

Xavier understood what you couldn't say. Nodded and smiled gratefully at you for having shared that much. He filled in some blanks himself, "And, I guess, this whole thing with Maddie is hitting pretty close to home, huh?"

You snorted, "Yeah, it definitely has the whole 'someone you think you can trust ends up betraying you' thing going for it."

Xavier's blood ran cold.

It would occur to him later that he didn't fully understand how your comment related to your trauma. It was the one police file his dad had ensured Xavier couldn't get his hands on and snoop through.

For now, he was blindsided by fear. Because who the fuck else had Maddie been meant to trust and was instead betrayed by? Sandra, perhaps, but you didn't know that. Did you? Had you also been to see her? No, that would be weird as hell. You and Maddie were friends-by-extension. Xavier didn't think you even knew where Maddie lived. Thus, as far as Xavier knew, he was the only one who fit the profile, which meant that, oh God no, you knew about Claire and this was the moment you banished Xavier from your life forever. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to be entirely alone, not yet, please, not yet—

"What does that mean?" He fished, tone even, though inwardly he was losing his shit.

Your focus went distant as you seemed to think carefully about what you wanted to say. With his heart in his throat, Xavier listened as you told him, "Simon and I think Mr. Anderson had something to do with Maddie's disappearance."

And he almost cried in relief. Until a certain part of your statement sunk in.

"You and Simon?"

You leaned back, looking at Xavier like you were mentally fitting him for a dunce cap. "Really? That's what you're concerned about? Zav, you went on an adventure with his only other best friend yesterday. He didn't have anyone else to talk to, so yeah, I'm happy to help him follow whatever leads he finds."

"At least Nicole doesn't hate me." Xavier hissed, "Simon dead-ass accused me of hurting Maddie in front of everyone."

"Okay, a) I made sure to get it through his skull that you're innocent. And, b) Simon doesn't hate you." You stopped, appearing somewhat hesitant to continue before you went on in sympathy, "He's just obviously in love with Maddie and you're the guy she chose instead."

As if Xavier hadn't been painfully aware of Simon's big, fat crush on Maddie since the fledgling days of their relationship. Simon had been a looming presence; had viscerally attempted to hold back glaring daggers at Xavier across the lunch table or over your and Mathilda's heads at shows, or movies, or tailgates.

"We're all trying to figure out where Maddie is." You said, bringing the situation to order. "And it seems like we've all been doing a better job than the cops because you and Nicole found boot prints and a ticket, and Simon found a stash of cash in Mr. Anderson's classroom. Plus, after talking about it last night—"

"You saw Simon last night?"

You talked over Xavier, the volume of your voice rising marginally, "—he and I think he's hiding something in the theater, too."

Xavier hung his head, cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders, trying to calm the wave of conflicting emotion cresting inside him. You were his best friend. Yet, you'd buddied off with Simon Creepy Possessive Elroy to—

"Wait. Anderson has money in his classroom?"

You rolled your eyes, sporting a sardonic smile, "Yes, Officer Baxter, welcome back to the point. You done being weird?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Xavier apologized sincerely, ducking to catch your eye. He swiveled to rest his side against the bed and face you more easily. "That was a lot of information to digest. I didn't mean to get weird about you and Simon being close all of a sudden."

You playfully shoved a hand into Xavier's face, "Aw, Zav, don't worry, I'm still all yours," and winked before dissolving into a merry cackle.

Xavier reached across the narrow space between you both and slung an arm around your neck, dragging you close to ruffle your hair. It didn't have the same effect as when your hair was dry, tangling and teasing it into an 80s starburst, but it was close enough. You squealed and giggled, laid Aidan's lion on the bed, and then wrestled Xavier off you. In retaliation, he banded his arms around your torso and pulled you into his chest, fingers dancing along your sides.

It was fun, silly, something neither of you had been in what Xavier felt had been forever. Your laughter brightened the room, pushed the melancholy shadows into the corners, and made way for a cheerful lightness that hadn't existed in the space for too long.

"You're an ass." You wheezed, squirming out of Xavier's grasp and settling back against the bed, one leg held close and chin propped on your knee.

"Yeah, but you love me," Xavier teased.

He was loathe to ruin the moment—you beaming at him with dimpled cheeks and crinkled eyes—but his phone started to buzz in his front pocket. He dug it out, saw who was calling and glanced at you for confirmation that he should answer.

At your nod, he accepted the call, "Hey Tilda, sorry for not calling before, but—"

"SIMON, DON'T SAY A FUCKING WORD UNTIL MY MOM GETS THERE!" Mathilda shrieked on the other end of the line and then, into the phone, "What the fuck, Xavier, I tried calling you three times already!"

She had? Xavier hadn't felt his phone vibrate before then...Of course, when he was hyper-focused on something, everything else fell away, muffled by the void until he poked his head out of whatever rabbit hole he'd tumbled down. And, when it came to taking care of you, nothing else penetrated until he'd exhausted himself putting a smile back on your face.

Something he'd just succeeding in doing, damn it.

You pounced forward, grabbing Xavier's phone out of his hand and putting the call on speaker, "What's going on?"

"The cops just dragged Simon out of the school." Mathilda relayed, harried, clearly on the move. "I called my mom, but she won't be in town for another hour!" You and Xavier shared a look before Mathilda pulled attention back to what was unfolding on her end, "They're putting him in the back seat! That's bad, right!? XAVIER!? Is that bad!? What the heLL IS GOING ON!?"

"It's fine, Tilda," Xavier reassured firmly, eyes fixed on yours. "Unless he's in handcuffs, they aren't arresting him. They probably just want his statement on the record."

"His statement for what?" Mathilda sounded ready to go to battle, "They already asked us about Friday!"

Oh shit, you mouthed, the money.

Xavier muted the call to ask you, "Would Simon call the cops on Anderson?"

"I mean, he stole the man's phone. If he found something, he definitely wouldn't wait."

"Simon stole his phone?" Xavier almost clutched his proverbial pearls like a maiden aunt. The unhinged act of devotion to Maddie made him reconsider what it meant to care.

Simon was on the warpath, no fucks left to give, ready and willing to throw himself on the sword if necessary. Was that the kind of love Xavier had been meant to summon for Maddie? He had a lot of big feelings for her, most of them overshadowed by guilt now that she'd taken off without a backward glance, but none of them had inspired him to burn the world down in pursuit of her. There were—maybe—only two people he'd ever felt that kind of feral protectiveness over, and one of them was dead. The other...

He glanced up at you carefully, saw the distress in your eyes as you worried over Simon. "If they're taking him in," Xavier said, putting a hand on your knee for comfort, "they didn't find the money in Anderson's class."

"Then Anderson moved it." You choked. "Simon wasn't lying, Zav. If you'd seen how Mr. Anderson was acting last night, you'd know it was true, too."

"Hello!? Are you still there? Xavier!"

Xavier unmuted the call, both you and he chiming, "Yep, here!"

"Can't you call your dad?" Mathilda demanded and Xavier could picture her perfectly with her hand on her hip, brows furrowed, eyes ablaze, about to scold him like a mother hen. "He's the Sheriff! He could make them let Simon go!"

"Not necessarily, Tils. What if Simon knows something we don't?"

"Like what? He was at the APEX with us last week when Maddie took off. I saw him with my own eyeballs, Bax, he didn't know anything." Mathilda argued.

"Guess she's not pissed at him anymore," You commented quietly, more to a general audience than Xavier specifically.

"Alright, how's this. I'll go see what I can get out of my dad. You've already called your mom, she's on her way," He stated in a measured cadence, "There's nothing else we can do."

Begrudgingly, Mathilda agreed, closing the call with a semi-threatening, "Call me immediately, babes! I want to know why you weren't in Bio," directed to you, and then, "Love you both~!"

"I wasn't in Bio, either," Xavier grumbled, pouting at the white call-ended screen, "I don't count?"

You didn't indulge him, instead asking, "What should I do?"

"What should you do about what?"

"Tilly called her mom, you're going to sniff around your dad's office. What should I do? I can head back to the school and see if there's anything in the theater."

Immediately Xavier was on edge. The idea of you going back to the school and getting caught—possibly by Mr. Anderson who was, if as guilty as you inferred, absolutely going to be on alert now that the police had been called—didn't sit well with him. Not after what had happened to you earlier.

"No." He said, authoritative, stiff, "That's...no."

"I have to do something. What if Mr. Anderson hurt Maddie, huh? What if that money ties him to her somehow? And now he's going to get away with it because the police are focused on Simon."

Xavier grabbed you by the back of the head, angled your face so you had to look at him when he told you in no uncertain terms, "You're not going back there, kiddo. Not without me, okay? You've been through enough today, you need to rest."

"But—"

"How about this," He reasoned and dropped his hand to your shoulder, "We go in tomorrow morning before class and take a look around. Together."

You deflated, "And what about Simon?"

"There's literally nothing we can do about that right now, okay?"

An unhappy silence followed as you chewed over the alternatives Xavier offered. He was gearing up to sling you over his shoulder, carry you back to your bedroom, and lock you in your closet until he came to get you in the morning. Completely dismissing that you had a whole family who would hear you trying to escape and then very likely sneak you into the school themselves just for shits and giggles.

Color him surprised when you actually seemed to acquiesce.

"Fine." You said, audibly pissed that you were being benched, but, hey, Xavier was being sensible for once, the least you could do was humor him for one night. "But you'd better be here at dawn, Xavier."

Xavier traced an X over his heart, "I promise."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Of course, Xavier really should've had you promise to do as he'd said because, as soon as the coast was clear, you snuck out of the house, donning a pair of sleep shorts and your Uncle Andrew's hoodie.

💀___________________________

PART NINETEEN - PART TWENTY-ONE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Xavier Baxter #Spencer MacPherson #Xavier Baxter is ADHD coded #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Sun

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 1 year ago

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Little Shop of Horrors takes place sometime in the early 60s, but it's hard to pin down the exact year. A radio broadcast mentions President Kennedy, so that narrows it down to 1961, 1962, or 1963. During the song Feed Me (Git It), one of the offers Audrey II waves in Seymour's face is a "guest spot on Jack Paar." Jack Paar hosted the Tonight Show from July 29, 1957 to March 30, 1962. The opening line of the movie says that the events took place on the 23rd day of the month of September, so if we assume Jack Paar was still on the air when Audrey II mentioned him, then 1962 and 1963 are off the table, meaning is has to be 1961, right? Well, after Seymour kills Mr. Mushnik allows Audrey II to kill Mr. Mushnik, we get a short montage of offers and contracts and magazine covers to establish that Seymour's star is rising. One of the covers is a TV Guide for the week of October 6 - 12.

October 6th was a Sunday in 1963, not 1961, so that complicated things until I googled existing TV Guides and learned that they don't start the week on Sunday, but Saturday instead.

April 23 - 29, 1983 (Saturday to Friday) December 27, 1980 - January 2, 1981 (Saturday to Friday)

October 6 - 12 was a Saturday to Friday in 1962.

If we assume Audrey II just pulled the first famous talkshow host name it could think of regardless of whether or not he was still on the air, then 1962 remains our best bet because in the director's cut ending where the plants take over the world there's one shot of Audrey II bursting through a movie theater marquee advertising Jason and the Argonauts, a Ray Harryhausen movie which premiered June 13, 1963.

Little Shop of Horrors starts on September 23, 1962.

Seymour gets his face on the cover of Life and the TV Guide the following month.

Audrey II would hit store shelves just in time for Christmas, spreading around the country faster than hula hoops and the Twist, taking over the world sometime in the new year.

#little shop of horrors #lsoh #audrey ii #seymour krelborn #1960s #1961 #1962 #1963 #jfk #john f kennedy #president kennedy #kennedy #60s #the 60s #musical #timeline

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damianbugs · 1 year ago

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with all this gotham war stuff (most recently the comic sc you posted on your twt with jason and bruce), can u explain what is actually going on? like, i’m not that far so i haven’t read it, but… like is it actually bruce saying all that stuff about the kids? or is it this zur person people keep talking about?

oh my friend, it's crazy around here, but i will try my best to explain it!

A GUIDE TO UNDERSTANDING WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO BATMAN IN GOTHAM WAR:

firstly, the comic reading list to catch up with gotham war is: as of 01/10/23 (the ones in italics are core issues to the story)

for some background on what happens leading up to gotham war:

Batman (2016) #125-136

(Optional) Knight Terrors: Batman

(Optional) Knight Terrors: Catwoman

and then the actual gotham war story:

Batman/Catwoman: The Gotham War - Battle Lines

Batman (2016) #137

Catwoman (2018) #57

Batman/Catwoman: The Gotham War - Red Hood #1

this is everything that is out right now, but from the third of october to halloween we will also be getting: Batman #138, Catwoman #58, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Batman/Catwoman: The Gotham War - Scorched Earth.

secondly... who is Zur En Arrh.

Zur En Arrh taking over Bruce, Batman (2016) #126

zur en arrh, in the simplest way of explaining, is this alter ego/personality (it's unclear) bruce created for himself should batman (bruce wayne) ever be psychologically compromised or brainwashed. it's not him, but a more sadistic and crueler person that is the "ultimate batman" who doesn't care about anyone or anything but getting the mission done.

during Batman #125-130, zur takes over the role of batman because bruce was losing very badly to the robot Failsafe (which is zur's own creation, that bruce has no memory of making). after getting vaporised by failsafe and sent travelling through dozens of alternate universes, losing his hand and fighting a flying shark (Batman #131-135), bruce returns to gotham incredibly mentally unstable.

During a peaceful dinner with his family, Bruce suddenly imagines the entire world on fire, Batman (2016) #136.

during everything, bruce managed to mentally fight back and kind of... merge their ideals together in order to survive and win in the moment.

and then successfully trapping failsafe back into his mind where he can no longer take over!

Bruce uses some sort of mental technique to lock Zur away in his mind, Batman (2016) #136.

except he didn't succeed! at all!

you see, when travelling through all those universes, bruce somehow brought back every single version of zur en arrh with him. now all of then combined, plus his already deteriorating and weak mental health from the last few years, bruce is currently operating under the impression that he's locked zur away, when he actually hasn't.

zur is the one partly, or even entirely, in control. right now, he's just pretending to stay locked away so bruce continues to do what he thinks is 'right' despite them being incredibly out of character for the run.

During his eight week coma, Bruce sees Zur 'locked away' and he is, apparently, not alone, Gotham War: Battle Lines (2023)

an example is when zur referred to robin as batman's solider, bruce mentally fought back to make it clear that tim was his son. but then, a few issues later, bruce refers to his children as his soldiers and that they've all betrayed him, implying that zur has always had control and isn't locked away.

Bruce and Zur get into a fight inside his mind about Robin [Tim Drake], Batman (2016) #127

so yeah, zur is not bruce! they're both batman, but zur en arrh is like his somehow unimaginably even worse twin. if you're interested more in him, i would suggest giving his character history a read! be warned it gets changed A LOT and is definitely not everyone's cup of tea (personally i hate him and need him shelved for another forty years).

now that that's all done and explained, the current state of gotham war is Bruce (thinks he's okay) fighting everyone else (except Damian) because in his (Zur's) point of view, they're all against the mission and therefore are now his enemies (he's lost his mind). totally not convoluted.

to answer your original question, yes, this is all bruce saying and doing these things but he is being HEAVILY influenced by Zur. we can't tell for certain how much of this is bruce and how much is zur, but we can definitely prove zur is partially or completely controlling him again.

even jason points it out after bruce implants that fear toxin chip into him in Batman (2016) #138:

like we can see the intention is to keep jason out of this, because compared to everyone else, jason was the most directly opposed to bruce. but zur is twisting how this concern gets expressed, since forcing jason into feeling fear everytime he gets an adrenaline rush is hardly the reformation bruce is usually encouraging. the other batfam members also talk about how uncharacteristically violent bruce is being.

"He's out of control." / "He's gone [In more ways than one.]" Batman (2016) #137

as the story progresses we see more and more of zur replace bruce, but because he can't have bruce trying to stop him again, zur is playing along and convincing bruce he's locked away. so really, bruce is at war with not only his entire family, but also his own mind. just another average tuesday for batman. he's being tricked and is unknowingly doing exactly what he was trying to prevent.

to understand what the actual war in gotham war is, give the comics listed above a read! if you find the story boring/ridiculous/stupid, don't worry, it is! the social commentary leaves a lot to be desired, as does most of the characters writings (especially selina's).

bruce and his one sided battle with zur is sort of an overarching story happening alongside it (along with a bunch of other ongoings. i don't even understand how detective comics and batman and robin are going to tie into this once it starts up again).

sorry the answer isn't a simple one, but unfortunately nothing is ever simple with bruce. also apologies in advance if any of the future gotham war comics come out and completely debunk all of this! who knows what will happen in this dramatic family drama.

#bruce wayne #gotham war #dc meta #saki anons #saki comic talks #i have such a toxic relationship with this run #i have nothing but complaints and hate for it #but its so terrible i cant wait to see how it all crash and burns #the most “it gets worse before it gets better” storyline for batman i have EVER seen

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yonphilia · 1 year ago

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a/n: repost bc i wanted to add sumn😞 i jus love gojo guys <3 and wingman geto <33

Satoru was annoying, way too annoying.

You’re at the cinema right now with Suguru and Satoru, you didn’t plan on bringing them with you, but when you held up three tickets to Utahime and Shoko to go to the movies with you, the next thing you knew, there was a long arm around your shoulder dragging you away from the two girls before they could even answer.

Here you were now, in the middle of the hallway of the cinema glaring at Satoru, with your arms crossed, who could not keep his mouth shut during the movie which resulted in you three being kicked out.

Oh, but did he care?

No! He had the attention of 5 different girls asking for his number and fawning over him, so why would he?

Suguru chuckles, dragging Satoru away from the girls as you follow behind.

“You got us kicked out!” you say trying to sound annoyed. “That was such a waste of my money— you’re paying me back Satoru”

“What!” he raises his hands in defence, his shades sliding down his nose slightly “it was not my fault the heroine was going to—”

“Shut up” you say which causes Satoru to pout

“I mean, at least we watched the first 15 minutes, it wasn’t that bad.” Suguru cuts in trying to lighten the mood but instead laughs at your stern face and Satoru’s stupidity.

Youq roll your eyes at the two and walk away to the cashier to buy snacks for yourself, and yourself only. Because somehow, everytime you go out with these two, Satoru forgets his wallet, and Suguru’s wallet just happened to be at Satoru’s dorm, and the moment Satoru’s eyes lay on the packet of cookie dough candy in your hands, he’s dashing up to you.

“Pretty please buy me one? i’ll pay you back.” He says pouting and sliding his shades down his nose to show you his “puppy” eyes which causes you to scoff, and in the end you did end up buying him a packet.

You three head back to Suguru’s car, you rush to the passenger seat before Satoru could, sticking your tongue out at him as he gets in the back. “Tiz’ what you get looser.” you say smiling to yourself.

As Suguru starts to drive, you fumble with the buttons on his dashboard trying to put on some music which causes Suguru to side eye you raising a brow.

“It’s the button on the top right corner,” he says trying to hide his smile and keeping his eyes on the road.

Once you turn the music on, you try to shut it off straight away, ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You' by Mariah Carey was blasting in full volume. Satoru snickered at the irony of the song playing with the month being October at the moment.

Few minutes pass by in silent, until Satoru peaks his head through the space between your and Suguru’s seats.

“You still mad-”

“Yes.”

“C’mon, I’m sorry I’ll pay you back” he protests pouting.

You turn your head away from him looking out the window. “That will be 70$ plus the candy so 75$ because i’m adding interest.”

Suguru tries to stifle a laugh which has you saying “You too, you owe me as well,” and he purses his mouth shut straight away.

Satoru tries to make it up to you, by bringing you to the amusement park. You two were playing an arcade game, shooting the plastic animals with waterguns till one falls over and you win a prize.

sounds easy right? not if Satoru is around.

He looses several times, and in the end he ends up throwing his water gun at the stack causing the shelves to fall along with everything on it.

And there you two were once again, standing outside the gates of the amusement park.

“You have to hear me out-”

“Don’t even think about it Satoru” you say turning away from him, hair a little damp from the waterguns.

“Okay I’m sorry I’ll make it up to you-”

“No! you do this every time”

“What if-”

“No”

Satoru frowns, knowing this was probably your last straw, so he walks up to you standing infront of you and looking down at your sulking face.

“I’ll kiss you if you don’t let me make it up to you..”

Your face scrunched up into disgust as you snap your head at him and take a step back “No- dont even think about it ew”

“Then let me bring you to that favourite place you like to eat at”

“You got me kicked out last time because you-”

“I wont! i promise!”

And yet, you two were standing on the street covered in tomato sauce and noodles dripping down from your hair.

“Heh…C’mon..hear me out…”

He’ll make it up to you properly, someday.

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shuichisweave · 1 year ago

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costume party

riddler x (sort of bimbo) reader part one

halloween fic

suggestive

“Edward”

Oh dear god. Oh no. Oh fuck.

You did not call him Edward unless he had truly fucked up. What was it now? Had all of his plans of eventually letting you in on knowing who he truly was gone awry? He froze in place, unable to move or even look in your direction, as if he had been plastered down onto the cushion of the loveseat in your shared apartment.

No. Impossible. It couldn’t be- he had done everything absolutely perfectly, everything falling into place just as it should have, slowly introducing the idea of him being more radicalized than he had let on when he first met you. It was going to be sublime. He realized that by now he had not responded to you for nearly a minute. Better late than never.

“Yes dear? Is everything alright?” He looked over his shoulder to see you behind him tapping your foot on the ground. Looking impatient, disappointed even. “Eddie, baby, what day is it?” His eyes swatted from you to the calendar on the fridge. October 26th.

“Uhhhh… the twenty-sixth?” You softened your gaze slightly, realizing he had no clue how close the upcoming holiday was. “Eddie, we have a costume party coming up on the twenty-ninth of this month. There's only three days left counting today to get our shit together and put together some costumes. We’re going costume shopping today and that’s final” You turned back into your shared bedroom to get ready for shopping without another word. Edward let out a heavy sign he didn’t realize he had been keeping in.

The Halloween surplus store luckily wasn’t too bare bones for it being the end of October. A few shelves were sparingly stocked however most were full. Unfortunately for Eddie that just meant more for you to browse through and drag him into trying on. “Eddie, look at this! How cute! A playboy bunny costume! Isn’t it so pretty!” You showed him the vinyl wrapped costume package with a scantily clad woman with bunny ears on. He audibly gulped at the thought of having to share your presence with others while you wore that.

Even after having been together for over a year he still didn’t know how to respond to you in a situation like this. “It’s er- lovely sweetheart but don't you want these to be matching costumes? That means I’ll either have to be Hugh Hefner or a playboy bunny too, and I don’t know how I feel about having to wear that around some of your coworkers…” You took a moment to think on it, and placed the bagged costume back on its proper hook. “Good idea you’re so right! Plus Hugh Hefner is just ugh you know? I don’t want to think of you as a gross old guy” You went back to peruse some of the stocked costumes, taking your time to look through them carefully. “AHA! It’s so perfect, Eddie look! Look, look, look!” In your hands you held a skimpy little bo-peep costume, complete with thigh highs, a garter, and a baby pink shepherd's crook.

“So what do you think? Should I get it? That way you can be a cute little sheep and we’ll look perfect together! He nearly came in his work khakis at the thought of you, practically nude in that little get up and dragging him around the party like your sex slave. “Y-yes absolutely. I think you’ll look … so so pretty” You grinned and searched for a way to make him have a not too embarrassing sheep costume.

Finally making it home you squealed in delight at the thought of Ed seeing you in this costume and making his jaw drop to the floor. Although to him he just thought it was a shriek of happiness from finally having a cute outfit to wear for the party you would be holding. “Alright, I’m gonna go try it on! No peeking okay?” It was then that he realized it would have been a great idea to bug the bathroom, he would have made good use out of the pictures and videos that a hidden camera in there would produce. After a few minutes of hearing the sound of plastic bags and shuffling, the bathroom door opened and you appeared, donning the frilly costume. Your tits nearly spilled out the top of the corset top and the soft pink skirt left nothing to the imagination. You frowned slightly and said “Eddie? I��ve called your name three times by now. What do you think? Too much?” He nearly shouted “No! No no it’s perfect. Truly it’s perfect, you look perfect”

You strolled back over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so happy you like it Eddie, I absolutely adore it” You gently wrapped your arms over his shoulders, hanging off of him. “So now that I know how you feel about it- do you want to try it out?”

“Try it out? What do you mean?” He looked at you utterly confused. “C’mon Eddie baby” You said, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards your shared bedroom.

“Oh!”

Oh.

#fanfic #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #bimbo reader #riddler #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma #the batman 2022

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nwjws · 1 year ago

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let’s share? - yjw

; pairing - jungwon x gn!reader

; synopsis - in the face of your upcoming midterms, you decide to visit the library to continue your revision. luckily, they had just one copy left of the textbook you needed - but you weren’t the only one who did.

; wc - 1k

; tags - fluff, college au, study date at the library

; warnings - this isn't an accurate depiction of college life bc im not a college student yet... not proofread so lmk if i missed anything!

your shoulder aches as it carries the weight of your bag, full to the brim with books and your laptop.

the cool breeze of october doesn't help you either, hitting your underdressed figure mercilessly. you hadn't anticipated it would feel this cold, so you had opted for just a simple flimsy long-sleeved top and jeans. it was a decision you certainly regretted now.

why does the library have to be a 15 minute walk away? maybe you really should've taken public transport - but that would've taken longer, and you want to make good use of time for your psychology midterm tomorrow.

warmth welcomed you as you finally reached the local library, one that was made specifically for all the college kids around the area; for students like you.

relief filled you as you finally set down your heavy belongings on a table, massaging your shoulder right after.

you look around the huge library as you take your seat, when your eyes land on a cute boy just 3 tables away from you.

you take in the way he's hunched over his own notes, a pair of headphones drowning out all other sound. a dimple appears on his cheek as he makes a concentrated face. you suddenly get the urge to poke it.

maybe i should go to the library more often.

somehow, you manage to pull yourself away from thoughts of your new library crush, and focus on your test tomorrow.

you regret procrastinating for the exam - although, if you hadn't then you wouldn't have gone to the library, and you wouldn't have seen mystery dimple boy. so are you really complaining?

soon, you realise your own resources don't have enough information on a study you needed to learn though, but that's why you came here in the first place.

getting up and stretching, you don't realise how long you had been sitting until you stood up. you immediately start scavenging the shelves for books that might have details of the study you were looking for.

you happen to find one that has a collection of studies and theories on the exact topic and time period, and to your luck, it has the exact study you need! it seems like other students had the same problem as you, seeing as the area where there should've been extra copies of it was empty; you had gotten to the last one.

you turn around to return to your table, but find yourself face-to-face with the very boy you had been eyeing earlier.

"oh, is that the last one?" he asked with wide eyes. they glittered and rooted you on the spot, your heart racing as you got a proper look at his face.

"oh! umm, yeah i think so," you reply after a pause, having to pull yourself out of your reverie.

"ugh, that sucks. i really needed details on schmolck et al," he says, bummed out as he looks down and scratches at his nape.

"no way, me too!" you say in surprise. "you take psychology class too?"

"yeah, i guess we all needed that book for the test tomorrow," he laughs awkwardly.

"well, we could just share the book," you propose. normally, you weren't so inviting, and would come up with a compromise such as taking photos of the pages he needed.

but something about his aura was inviting, and easy to get along with. not to mention, he looked like he was heaven-sent.

"yes please, if you don't mind," he smiled gratefully. you swear your heart just melted a thousand times.

you two get to studying together, whispering easy conversations and helping each other with particular concepts the other struggled a bit with.

after telling him that your weaker point was structuring your responses, he gladly helped you in that area, because he happened to know a cheat code to the best way of doing so.

you learned that his name was jungwon, and took a psychology class at a different time as you, which is why you two hadn't met until now.

he was an amazing study buddy, patiently explaining to you in a way you would understand. his voice was soft and sweet like honey, and helped calm your nerves for the upcoming test. he paid attention to you with those eyes that seemed to hold the world within them.

whenever he shifted closer to you to look at your notes, your skin tingled when it grazed against his hand, the heat rushing to your face.

when the sun had set, you decided you spent the last 6 hours pretty productively, especially with someone like jungwon by your side.

something about him made you feel giddy, like you were floating on air. with him, you think you can do anything.

you wanted to get to know him more, find out what he likes and what he didn't. to give him the same feeling he did to you.

"thank you for today, jungwon."

"no problem," he smiled at you softly.

you two stared at each other for what felt like hours, comfortable silence overtaking your little space. soaking in each other's presence.

"so, i really should go back home and get some sleep. mentally prepare myself for tomorrow, you know?" you tell him, and begrudgingly start packing up your things. he follows you after.

"of course. good luck, you'll do well. I know you will."

you look up at him, feeling like you were going to cry at his reassuring words.

"thank you, i have no doubt you will either."

"tell you what, let's both promise to ace tomorrow's exam okay? and then let's get some ice cream after," he suggests, patting your shoulder.

"in the middle of october?" you raise an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"nothing like ice cream when it's cold, right?" he chuckled. "c'mon, i know a good place downtown."

"sounds good to me. is this going to be a first date then or something?" you ask with mock confidence, feeling a little unsure if he was thinking the same. jungown frowned confusedly at you.

"what? wasn't this our first date? a study date?"

you stare at him, and giggle at his cute expression.

"well, if you say so, then tomorrow will be our second."

jungwon smiled at you, satisfied as he waits for you.

"take this, it's cold out," he says, shrugging off his puffy jacket, and handing it to you, before taking your hand. "let's go, i'll walk you home."

; tags! - @wonuslust

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ mi's works #k labels #enhypen #enhypen imagines #jungwon #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon imagines #jungwon scenarios #jungwon drabbles #jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #enhypen fluff #j1nniee

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archangeldyke-all · 7 months ago

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i’m so excited for halloween. i love all things fall/october.

could you write an autumn fic? 🍂

more specifically— i feel like the reader would have to force sev to wear some kinda costume for halloween >:) how do you think sev x reader would dress up? how would they spend their night together? ly mootie! ♡

my city's in the middle of a heat wave and it's HUMID too, it's horrible-- so yes, let's think about fall for a while hehehehe

men and minors dni

there is no doubt in my mind that fall's her favorite season.

and i think halloween is probably her favorite holiday too.

she's not a festive person, so even though she loves fall, she doesn't really indulge herself in things like decorating or baking.

but you do.

sevika doesn't realize how much she loves fall until she meets you. because you treat fall like it's your birthday or something. sevika's shocked to see how much you incorporate her favorite season into your day to day life. and even more surprising, she's shocked to find that she kind of loves it.

as the leaves start to change, you start making her coffee pumpkin flavored, sometimes adding a bit of hazelnut and cinnamon too. she fucking loves it, it's the best coffee she's ever had.

your apartment always smells like pumpkin pie or autumn leaves or flannel-- various candles burning and filling your space with the cozy smells and a lovely warm glow when the days start to grow dark earlier.

you start cooking hearty, warm meals-- stews and chilis and soups and curries-- sevika fucking adores it. there's nothing like a freshly baked slice of bread scooping up some kind of meaty sauce.

and your baking. sevika's almost cries the first time you hand her a plate of freshly homemade triple chocolate chip cookies, with a tall glass of milk.

she adores watching you start to get cozier as the days grow colder. your home becomes slowly filled with fuzzy blankets, you string up some fairy lights to flick on in the dark afternoons, pumpkin decor starts to decorate your tables and shelves.

she loves watching you cuddle into a hoodie, or pull a scarf up over your nose when you're outside and it's chilly. she especially loves cuddling with you under a blanket on the couch.

sevika just can't say no to you. she hates it. (she loves it.)

this means she ends up carving jack-o-lanterns for the first time in her life with you at the big age of forty three. she's surprised to find that she loves it-- scooping the guts of the pumpkin out is so satisfying, and she's always loved stabbing things. (what she loves most of all is the way you arrange your jackolanterns right next to each other on your front stoop, a scarf strung around the two of them, just like when you share your scarf with her.)

this also means that she wears a halloween costume for the first time in nearly thirty five years just for you.

obviously, it has to be a matching costume. sevika will not humiliate herself unless it's to show the world that she's yours.

i'm thinking about the classic lesbian couple costumes: werewolf and vampire.

sevika tries to get away with being a vampire by just drawing two little dots of red lipstick on her neck. you go all out-- buying a werewolf mask and gloves. and on the night of, when you reveal your costumes to each other, you pout at sevika until she rolls her eyes and gives in-- putting on the vampire costume you bought at the same halloween store you got your mask in.

you go to a party at silco's house, the adults drinking while the kids binge on candy, spooky music blasting, vander trying to jumpscare every guest by the end of the night.

you only show up for an hour before you decide to head home, both of you overwhelmed by the party.

sevika tugs on your sleeve as you wander through the leaf-covered sidewalks toward home. "babe, look." she whispers.

she swipes her vampire-cape to the side and reveals one of her fanny packs on her hip-- stuffed to the brim with candy she's stolen from the kids.

you burst into laughter and smack her shoulder, before pulling a kitkat out of her bag and crunching into it.

when you get back home, you spend the rest of the night smoking a joint on the front porch together, snuffing it out when kids approach and ask for candy.

sevika's shocked when you reveal the box of full size bars you'd bought to pass out, and you just shrug. "it keeps me on the good side of all the neighbor kids for the rest of the year."

she knows this isn't the real reason you do it though, you're too much of a softie. the real reason is the giant smiles and excited laughs the kids give the pair of you when you pass them the giant chocolates.

at one point, a little boy dressed in a dinosaur costume approaches with his parents trailing behind him. he seem's shy-- scared to run up onto your porch-- but with a bit of encouragement from you and his parents, he finally climbs the steps.

when sevika hands the boy the candy bar--nearly the size of his head-- his entire expression changes, a huge, toothless grin taking over his face. "thanks scary ladies!" he shouts, before running back down the stairs to show his parents his bounty. sevika chuckles to herself about this for the rest of the night.

by eleven, most of the kids have gone home. you and sev turn in, blowing out the jackolanterns, leaving the box of chocolate out for any teenagers looking to make trouble, hoping that they'll take the bribe and keep from egging or tp-ing your house.

you get in your (matching flannel) pjs and crawl into bed, snuggling and lazily making out as coraline plays on the tv.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty

#christian girl fall sevika au when #sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

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Yearling - Ch. 21: Holiday

You, Joel and Ellie celebrate Christmas in Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-20 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 7k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

December 24, 2026

“They really didn’t make Christmas music with dancing in mind, did they?”

Your head was on Joel’s shoulder, a pleasantly drunk haze falling over your mind and sinking into your limbs. You smiled at Tommy’s question, his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“No they did not,” you said, even though you knew the question was rhetorical.

Half of Jackson was crowded into the Tipsy Bison. Christmas music was on the stereo, someone in the kitchen had made egg nog, the whole bar was draped in multi-colored Christmas lights casting everything in a a cheerful glow.

You’d been in Jackson for more than a year now, something that was hard to believe. Last year at this time you’d spent all your spare time at home alone - except when Ellie all but broke down your door, anyway. You’d missed all this without even knowing that you’d missed it.

Christmas hadn’t mattered much to you in years. The last real one you had before the world ended was really only special because you got to see your brothers again for the first time in months. The holiday itself hadn’t been what mattered.

But you’d felt an odd sense of anticipation this time, something you hadn’t felt since you were a kid. Being around other people who remembered the time before - who knew what it had been like when there were things like Christmas tree lots and mall Santas - made it feel exciting in way the holiday hadn’t in years past, even when you were a teenager.

It helped that Joel was recovered from the incident in August. He had returned to business as usual, going out on patrol with Tommy who had fully healed, too. But their first time out, you’d insisted on going, too.

“You really don’t need to worry about it, Sweetheart,” Joel said. “It’s just a day long patrol, not goin’ anywhere rough. Gonna be fine.”

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with me going,” you shrugged. “Olivia can cover for me at the stables and I can cover you and Tommy’s asses.”

Joel laughed a little and sighed.

“Alright,” he kissed your temple. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can come out with us. This time.”

It had been an easy day, unseasonably warm for October. The three of you went to a small town that was about a five hour ride from Jackson, a town that happened to have a record store.

“Oh shit!” You said, flipping through CDs on the dank and rotting shelves. “They have the White Stripes!”

Joel frowned, looking over your shoulder.

“Who’s that?”

“I’ll play you something when we get back,” you said, turning the CD over to look at the track list. “They’re good and they have a girl drummer which automatically makes them even better. I was just thinking of them the other day, I think Ellie would like them…”

Joel smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “She probably would.”

You stashed the CD and a few others in your pack, saving them to give Ellie at Christmas. They were wrapped and under a tree in Joel’s living room now and you were more excited about watching her open them and listening to them with her for the first time than you were to open what had your name on it under the tree.

“Think I can con you into a dance anyhow?” Joel asked, brushing your hairline with his nose.

“You know,” you smiled. “Think I’m just drunk enough for it to work.”

He took your hand and led you to the dance floor just as It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas came on the stereo. You smiled and draped your arms around Joel’s neck, your whole body pressed against the front of him, so different from the first time you’d danced with him.

“You sure are pretty,” he smiled, swaying gently, his hands at your back.

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, smiling too.

“Sure you don’t need glasses?” He teased and you rolled your eyes before tucking your head against his chest and shoulder, your nose brushing his neck.

“I’ve known you for a year now,” you said quietly after a minute of just moving gently with him.

“That all?” Joel said. “Seems like I’ve always known you.”

You smiled against him.

“I think I would have gone looking for you sooner, if I knew you existed,” you said. “Just didn’t know any better.”

Joel’s lips brushed your cheek.

“Would have definitely gotten my ass out of Boston a few decades earlier,” he said. “Lot I would’ve done different, had I known better.”

He held you a little tighter.

“Is it bad that I think I’m lookin’ forward to the day after Christmas more than Christmas?” He asked.

“What?” You laughed a little and pulled back from him enough to look at his face. “Why?”

“Two days just you n’me,” he smiled. “I know it’s patrol but… feels almost like a camping trip or vacation. Getting out of town, ridin’ through snow covered forest, ski lodge waiting at the end? Can’t think of much better than that.”

“Well when you put it that way,” you teased, tucking your head against him again. “But I get what you mean. Though I’m pretty excited for Christmas with Ellie. Haven’t had a real Christmas with trees and lights and shit with a kid in a long time. Almost feels like I should try to convince her Santa is real or something, just really make the whole experience happen for her.”

“I’m just glad she’s speakin’ to me this Christmas,” Joel said, giving you a squeeze, his voice thick. “Got you to thank for that.”

“She’d have come around eventually,” you said. “Kids… They’re smart. They see things, they know. She knows you love her. She’d understand it one day, even without my help.”

“Startin’ to feel like all the good things I got I got because of you,” he said softly.

You lifted your head to look him in the eye, his gaze gentle and deep, his eyes crinkling at the edges with his soft smile.

“Well you’ve saved my life enough times,” you said. “Seems like it’s only fair. I couldn’t have anything without you. Don’t think I’d want it without you.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes on your own and, for a moment, you were certain there was no one left inside the bar but him and you.

He took you home after, walking slow through the falling snow with the first coat Joel had ever given you wrapped around you. You closed the curtains on the front window before plugging in the lights on the tree, just looking at it twinkling in the dark as you curled against Joel’s side on the couch. But before too long, you kissed him all soft and needy, his tongue dipping into your mouth.

Joel undressed you gently and stretched you out beneath him on the couch. He covered your body with his, warm and hard as you rocked your hips against his length. He kissed you as he entered you, sinking into your tight heat until his body was flush with yours and he was buried within you. He pulled his lips away from you for a moment and your eyes met his, the lights reflected there as your heavy breaths matched his own. You reached up and traced the outline of him, your fingers brushing into his hair. You could feel his heartbeat in your own body, the life and warmth and vibrancy of him enveloping and consuming you. For a moment, you thought you might be able to know anything that crossed his mind, that he’d know anything that crossed your own. You were broken open and laid bare for him and all you wanted him to do was hold the pieces of you close and understand with a deep certainty how they fit together. You didn’t think you’d ever been this close to another person. You never wanted to be this close to someone who wasn’t Joel ever again.

Everything in you was drawn tight and desperate, the heat of want threatening to swallow you whole and you were sure you were going to burst with it.

“Joel,” you were almost squirming below him, needing the friction, needing more, eyes wide as you panted for breath. “Please…”

“Please what?” He sounded almost as desperate as you.

“Need you to move,” your eyes searched his. “Need to feel you, it’s too much, need…”

“Shh,” he brushed your hair back, his palm lingering on the crown of your head. You were suddenly aware of everywhere he was, how he was everything. He was around you and inside you and over you, the thick weight of his cock filling every hollow space of you. He dropped his forehead to yours and closed his eyes for a moment, like he was concentrating before opening them again. His pupils were blown and he was looking at you as though you were the only thing left in the world. “I’ve got you, Baby. Gonna take such good care of you.”

You just nodded against him and he pressed somehow deeper into you, his pubic bone pressing almost painfully against you before he pulled back, the slow drag of his hips making you moan as his the ridge of his head worked your channel. He pushed back into you firmly, tenderly, opening your body to him so he could reach parts of you that he seemed to have claimed for himself and you were happy to offer them.

Like this with him you could understand why it was called making love. There was a sense that feeling him like this, experiencing him like this, had to exist somewhere outside of just yourself. It was too big to contain within yourself, what the two of you created when he brought you to your peak with an aching and heady rhythm.

“You’re gettin’ close,” he panted, grinding his length deeper into you. You just nodded even though he hadn’t really asked. He knew. He didn’t need to ask. “Love feeling you like this. Want you to come for me, Baby. Want you to give in to it, want you to let go for me.”

You nodded again, past the point of being able to form words. Your back arched, closing whatever minuscule gap there was between your bodies. Joel took your hand, lacing his fingers with your own before putting it over your head and pressing it down into the couch, pulling a strangled moan from you as he did.

“Joel,” you managed. “Want… want to feel you…”

“Just let go,” he whispered. “Give you everything you want if you just come for me, Baby. Just come for me…” He pressed deep and you felt the building tension in you crest and overflow, your channel fluttering over him, working his thick shaft as you came with a broken cry.

“Oh there we go,” he held himself deep inside, dropping his head to your shoulder. “That’s it Baby, just keep coming, just keep…”

He moaned and you felt him throb inside of you, felt the heat of his come as he filled you. His hand tightened on yours and you instinctively tilted your hips to make sure he was as deep within you as he could possibly be.

You held each other like that for a while, Joel still buried inside you as his broad hand gently stroked your hair as you looked at him in the glow of the Christmas tree.

He must have carried you to bed at some point, and you woke up tangled with him, your head on his chest and his hand splayed wide on your back. The light pouring through the window was bright, the morning sun reflecting on the fresh snow and making his bedroom light and crisp. You kissed his chest and he sighed contentedly.

“Merry Christmas,” you smiled at him.

Joel smiled back.

“Ain’t you just the prettiest damn present.”

You laughed a little.

“Ellie say a time she was comin’ by?” Joel asked, hand sliding up your back to brush your cheek. “Or just that she was?”

“Just sometime in the morning,” you said. “Why?”

“Thinkin’ I really want to fuck you into this mattress before makin’ you breakfast,” he said. “But don’t want to be interrupted…”

As if on cue, you heard the bang of the front door against the wall downstairs. You laughed and pressed your face into Joel’s chest to muffle the sound.

“Where are you guys?” Ellie yelled. “Being gross?”

“Down in a minute, Kiddo!” Joel yelled back as you pulled your face from his chest to look at him again. He held your face and pulled you in for kiss.

“Later?” You asked quietly.

Joel groaned.

“Absolutely.”

You got dressed quickly and found Ellie sitting on the floor by the tree, turning the paper-wrapped packages over and examining them.

“Merry Christmas, Kiddo,” Joel smiled at her and she looked up from the gift in her hands.

“Did people really used to believe a fat old man came down their chimney and left them shit?”

You snorted and Joel laughed a little.

“Generally just the kids,” he said. “Gimme a minute to make some coffee, then you can rip into everything.”

You tucked yourself into a corner of the couch and smiled, watching Ellie rifle through the presents under the tree. It made your heart ache a bit to watch her. That she’d never had this as a girl hurt. That you hadn’t been able to do this in decades hurt, too. It felt like so much lost time, so many things that could have been better or different and they weren’t. So many things that you missed out on because you’d been holed up in the wilderness and hadn’t looked for a place like Jackson, hadn’t had the faith that a place like this could exist.

You tried not to think about it, fought to focus on anything but what could have been if you’d just tried to find this place years ago.

Joel pressed a warm mug into your hands and sat next to you on the couch, putting his arm over your shoulders, tugging you against him and kissing the top of your head. You took a sip and smiled a little at the taste of whiskey. He’d spiked it.

“Alright Old Man,” Ellie said, picking up one of the packages she brought and holding it out for him. “This one is for you.”

Ellie had made you each a charcoal drawing. Yours of Renaissance, Joel’s of you. Your eyes went a little wide at it. It’s not like you’d posed for her or anything, you hadn’t even noticed her doing it. It was strange to see yourself the way Ellie apparently did. You were pretty, the way she saw you, a softness in the drawing that you didn’t associate with yourself.

“This is amazing, Baby Girl,” Joel said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Figured I already drew you a horse,” she shrugged. “Thought you’d like something pretty to look at. And she’s got good taste, thought she’d want something better than your face on her wall.”

Joel laughed before you could protest.

“Got that right,” he said.

Joel got Ellie a stash of art supplies that you knew he must have been tracking down for the better part of the year, watercolors and pencils and full sketchpads and you gave her the CDs and a few comic books you’d found that you thought she’d like.

“Oh shit!” She yanked open the first comic. “Look at this guy, he’s got like… laser vision!”

You laughed and pressed closer to Joel and he kissed the crown of your head before he leaned forward and picked up something from below the tree, handing it to you.

You unwrapped it and opened the old shoe box. Inside was the carving of a horse, beautiful and intricate, delicate legs and a tail that looked like it was somehow in motion while being formed out of wood.

“Joel,” you gasped, running your finger over the smooth surface. “It’s beautiful…”

“Thought you needed somethin’ of your own in that house over there,” he said. “Or over here. When you want.”

You looked over at him and smiled, tears stinging at your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around him. You stretched and got your gifts for Joel next before you ended up fully crying on Christmas morning.

He opened the first one slowly and smiled at it, a holster you made from scrap leather for a knife he’d picked up the last time you were on patrol together.

“You act like you can’t do shit like this and then you make somethin’ great,” he smiled at you, running his thumb over where you’d burned his initials into the sheath just like you had with the guitar strap.

“Tell me that after it holds up for a few patrols,” you said, face getting hot. You took a sip of coffee.

He opened the next one as you gnawed on your lower lip. It was just a little box and he tugged the top off of it, revealing a slender chain with a piece of metal as a charm. He frowned, running his thumb over it.

“I made it from part of the bullet they pulled out of your leg,” you said, looking over his shoulder as he turned it in his palm. You’d cut “E + B” into one side of it. “Thought you should have a reminder that you’ve got people waiting for you. Next time you’re out for a few days.”

He took a shaky breath and kissed you tenderly, deeply, before putting it on, looking at it in his palm.

“I love it, Baby,” he said softly.

“Look at Bambi, being all sentimental,” Ellie teased from her spot on the floor, already using one of the new sketchpads from Joel. You glared at her, trying not to smile, and she laughed.

“One more,” you said before pressing your nose into Joel’s shoulder. For some reason, this made you anxious. Like the gifts were leaving you exposed. You dug your nails into your thigh to keep your leg from bouncing too much.

Joel unwrapped the cassette tape, looking at the label.

“Daylight,” he read from the tag. You’d tried to write it out in your best handwriting, the kind you hadn’t used in years but that your mother had drilled into you. “Don’t think I know this artist, who’s…”

You cut him off before he could read the name aloud.

First, middle, last.

“You do,” you said. “That’s… that’s me.”

His head whipped around to look at you, his eyes a little wide.

“I wrote it,” you nodded at the tape. “The quality is questionable - it’s just from an old audio recorder from my house - and I’ll play it for you if you want. But… Anyway, I wrote it for you and… well, felt like I should put my real name on it. No one’s really known it in a while but I wanted you to.”

“Baby…” he breathed, looking back at the tape. “This…”

“You can keep calling me Bambi,” you smiled a little. “Everyone else does. Which is still your fault, by the way.”

He laughed.

“This is amazing,” he said. “You’re amazing, I…”

“I’m going to need you guys to not be gross when I’m in the room,” Ellie groaned dramatically.

“Don’t worry, Kiddo,” Joel said. “Think we can keep it under control. Got a few more here…”

He picked up a small package and handed it to you.

You opened it, a CD inside, one you didn’t know. You looked at the back, frowning, only to find that it was an album of accompaniment tracks for violin.

“Oh, cool!” You said, looking over the track list. “I could definitely adapt these parts for guitar and…”

“Well, didn’t say you’d need to do that,” Joel said, clapping his hands on his knees before getting up. “Just a sec…”

Joel left and you frowned to Ellie, who just shrugged, her pencil frozen over the paper. He returned just a minute later, a violin in one hand and something you didn’t recognize in the other.

“Wasn’t sure how to wrap either of these so…”

You practically jumped off the couch, eyes wide, and took the instrument from him, holding it reverently.

“Where did you find this?” You asked, looking over the body. It looked to be in amazing condition.

Joel smiled.

“Been on the look out for one since you told me what instruments you played,” he said. “Got a bow and extra strings too, should be set for a bit.”

You threw the arm that wasn’t holding the violin around his neck and he laughed before giving you a squeeze. When you pulled away from him, he turned to Ellie.

“And this is for you,” he said, unfolding the bundle in his hand. Ellie got up, frowning at it for a second but watching as he did. “Figured since you’re gettin’ real good at your art, you should have all the tools…”

He finished putting it all together and set it down, an easel that was the perfect size for the largest sketchpad that Joel had gotten her.

“Oh shit!” Her face lit up. “This is like… real artist stuff!”

“Well yeah,” Joel shrugged, crossing his arms. “You’re a real artist, Kiddo. Need real artist stuff.”

Ellie practically hurled herself at him and he laughed, catching her out of the air. You smiled, watching them. They had become so much more like what you imagined them to have been before Ellie learned the truth about the hospital. It had taken a few months to get them there and you learned that giving them projects to work on together seemed to be the best way to move them along.

You started with shoeing the horses and quickly pinned down Tommy to come up with some more ideas for ways to get them progressing toward a common goal. They worked with him to build a new, larger pen for some of the livestock. You ended up concocting busy work that didn’t seem like busy work every other week or so until you noticed Ellie coming by the house of her own accord and Joel spending more than a few perfunctory minutes when he went to the outbuilding she called home. Every now and then, you still saw signs of Ellie being introspective. Sometimes she would go quiet, glancing at Joel with her brows drawn together and her eyes dark. But it was so much better than it was and you could clearly see the people they had become to each other as they survived crossing the United States.

The two of them were doing better than you’d ever really seen them by Christmas. You weren’t sure if it was the holiday or they had always been building to this point, but there was no sign of the tension that had been there as long as you’d known them both. It was hard to believe that the Ellie who was color swatching her new pencils and excitedly telling Joel about things like the saturation of the pigment was the same Ellie who had come over to your house, upset that you and Joel were together.

She left to exchange gifts with friends in the afternoon and you passed the time playing guitar with Joel while watching the snow drift down outside before holding each other on the couch, stretched out long and pressed close, something that earned you both an “Ugh I thought you were supposed to be adults, show some self control” when Ellie came back a few hours later.

After dinner with Tommy, Maria, William and the rest of Jackson, Ellie went home and Joel tried to put the cassette you’d made him in the boombox in his room but you begged him not to.

“Why not?” He frowned. “I’m excited to hear it…”

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, putting your arms around his waist. “I will let you fuck me if you wait until I am not within earshot to listen to that. I can’t stand hearing my own stuff, makes me want to crawl out of my skin.”

Joel smiled and shook his head a little.

“You were gonna let me fuck you, anyway.”

“Moot point.”

He kissed you gently.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll wait until you go home tomorrow to get your stuff for patrol. Think I’ve got the self control to hold off ’til then…”

You laughed and kissed him again, his hands growing eager against you. You rode him, your hands spread wide on his chest, memorizing the way the moonlight reflecting on the snow cast the shadows over his face, coming around him with a whimpering moan. As you fell asleep on his chest, his softening length still inside you as he held you close, you felt more at home than you had since you’d fled the home you’d made after the outbreak.

“I love you, Joel,” you said softly. You weren’t sure he was conscious enough to hear you but he held you a little tighter all the same.

***

Joel had always loved the outdoors but there was something about being in the woods after it snowed that was damn near magic.

It was like that now, out with you the day after Christmas. The snow hung heavy on the trees, boughs drooping toward the earth like they were covered in frosting, the crystalline layer catching the light and sending it shattering off the tree trunks.

The almost blinding light caught your eyes and hair and the snowflakes did, too, making you look like some otherworldly being. One that he should know better than to try to touch but was too selfish not to.

He’d listened to the tape when you left to head to your place to gather your things for patrol that morning. He just held the cassette for a moment, eyes tracing over the graceful lettering that spelled the title and your name.

You’d given him your name. You had told him why you didn’t like to share it, why you hadn’t shared it with anyone but the doctor here in decades. There was a power in it. So much of what you had and who you were had been weaponized against you since the outbreak. It made sense that you’d keep something close and for yourself and yourself alone. And he’d been content with that. He had more of you than he deserved, he wasn’t about to go and ask for more.

But you’d given him your name. First, middle, last. Because you wanted him to have that part of you, too.

He said it out loud to himself, testing the words on his tongue, picturing you as he did, tying the person he knew to the name that belonged to you.

Joel put the tape in the stereo and pressed play, turning the volume down a little. Just in case someone was walking by outside. He didn’t want to share this with them in any way. This was just for him.

There was a few seconds of crackling almost silence before you spoke, the sound clearer than he’d really expected it to be.

“Hey Joel,” your voice sounded close and almost nervous. He smiled at that, that you’d be nervous playing for him even after all this time. “I’ve kind of been wishing I was better with words since I’ve known you. I’m not exactly a poet so it’s kind of hard for me to say what you mean to me. But… well, I do know music. This doesn’t quite say it right, either, but it does a better job than I could on my own. I love you, Joel. So much.”

He listened close, could hear the quiet sound of your breaths and the sound of you adjusting the guitar in your arms before you started playing.

The music made Joel’s heart ache, so beautiful it almost hurt to listen to it. It was slow and gentle and intricate and longing, made him think of what it was to look at you and feel you and have you consume so much of who he was because he wanted you to, didn’t want himself without you.

When the song ended, the final chord hanging on the air, there was a pinch of tears at the back of his throat. He sniffed and tried to blink them back as there was a rustling on the recording and he could picture you adjusting your guitar.

“I hope you liked it,” you laughed a little. “And I hope it makes sense. Hope you know how much I love you. Because I do. Always will.”

The tape ended and Joel rewound it, collecting himself before listening to it again.

You were already at the stables when Joel got there, strapping your things to Renaissance’s side and humming to yourself. Joel didn’t say anything, wasn’t sure he’d really be able to speak past the lump in his throat. Instead, he went to you and you frowned when you saw him.

“Everything OK?” You asked. He grabbed you roughly and pulled you into his chest, kissing the crown of your head and clutching you close. You paused a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a squeeze. “Joel?”

“Love you,” he managed, not willing to let you go quite yet.

“Love you too,” you pulled back from him to look at him and laughed a little. “You alright?”

He kissed your forehead.

“Got you,” he said. “I’m great.”

The patrol had been quiet, just like Joel thought it would be. He hadn’t gone out with just you since snow started falling and he was ready for the kinds of patrols that came with winter. Last patrol with you had been in late October and the two of you had been caught up in a hoard of infected that was making its way south, migrating to survive the winter. You’d gotten pinned down at one point, Joel damn near panicking at the sight of it. He was able to get to you and knock the infected away, giving you enough space to raise your gun and fire. You’d made it out unscathed but with a lesson learned.

“Need shit I can use at close range,” you’d panted, dusting yourself off. “Baseball bat. Axe, maybe. Knife isn’t enough.”

Joel had found you an axe the second the two of you were back to Jackson and it was strapped to the side of your horse where you could easily free it to swing at anything headed your way.

But he didn’t think you’d need it today. This point in the season, the raiders were holed up to ride out the weather, not wanting to risk exposure by roaming much. Infected - with a few exceptions - had all fled the cold. These patrols were mostly to make sure anyone watching knew that Jackson was going to protect and maintain its territory, even when there wasn’t much to protect against.

The forest was quiet, you riding alongside Joel when the trail was wide enough to allow for it. You just looked around at the trees, enjoying nature for what it was, Joel taking advantage of the quiet to watch you do it. He’d be happy to watch you do just about anything.

“Almost like the end of the world never happened when you’re out here,” you said quietly, looking up at the snow-coated branches. “Like it’s a whole other world.”

The two of you saw no signs of anyone else when you made it to the lodge for the night, twilight on the horizon because days were short and nights were long this time of year. You settled the horses while Joel got a fire going in the fireplace inside. He set out your sleeping bags in front of the stone hearth, the setting sun casting the snow in shades of pink and orange from the wall of windows beyond. He pulled a small pot out of his bag and put some leftovers from the Christmas dinner the night before he’d managed to snag before they all got snapped up, turkey and stuffing and gravy warming as you came in from taking care of the horses.

“That smells incredible,” you said, putting your arms around Joel’s neck and pressing your body close. You were in his coat and his shirt, wrapping yourself up in him and he loved it, relished that he was what made you feel safe.

“Can’t take much credit,” he said, kissing you gently. “Just swiped it.”

“More than I managed,” you tangled your fingers in his hair, your soft gaze holding his. He sometimes thought the entire universe was contained in your eyes, like if he looked into them for long enough he’d find the answers to everything he’d ever questioned, the fulfillment of everything he’d ever longed for. “This was nice. Should talk them into letting me out of the stables more.”

“Won’t catch me arguin’,” he smiled, nuzzling against your cheek. “Not sure I can promise the more gourmet dinner options the rest of the year, though.”

You laughed and kissed him, soft and sweet, tongue dipping into his mouth.

“Think we’d be just fine with jerky,” you said, voice breathy.

He smiled back.

“Think so, too.”

You ate dinner close together, you tucked against his side. After, the two of you took turns playing guitar and singing, sticking close to the fire as it grew dark outside. Eventually, Joel set the guitar aside and took your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before smiling against your lips.

“What?” You teased.

“First kissed you up here,” he said. “Worried I wasn’t ever gonna get to again. Now I can kiss you whenever I want.”

“And it’s somehow not enough for me,” you kissed him again and he pulled you onto his lap before he undressed you slowly. You unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it down his arms until his skin was warm against your bare chest. You pressed yourself close and tight to him, rocking your clothed core over his hardening length.

“Want you,” you were damn near panting.

“Past wantin’ you,” he pulled you somehow closer. “Been far past it all day. Since I listened to your tape.”

You pulled back from him a little and he took advantage of the distance to look at your bared skin.

“You heard it?” You asked quietly. He nodded. “Did… did you like it?”

“Oh, Baby,” he cupped your cheek. “I loved it.”

You smiled and kissed him again and he held you close before maneuvering you onto your back on top of the sleeping bags, the heat from the fire warm on his skin. He tugged your jeans and panties off, casting them aside before removing his own. He ran his hands over your thighs, the softness of your skin in sharp contrast to the roughness of his own. His fingers reached your slit, all damp heat as he traced over you to your clit. You moaned, rocking your hips against him. He watched the muscle of your thighs tighten and shift and he took your ankle in his large hand, moving your foot to his shoulder so he could trail his lips over the supple flesh of the inside of your leg. He took his hand from your leg to grip his hardening cock as he toyed with your pussy as your back arched below him. He brushed his head against your swollen sex and all he could think about was opening you up to him, burying himself inside you until he couldn’t separate himself from you anymore.

His eyes traced over you, your pupils blown, your chest heaving as you panted for breath.

He lined himself up with your tight, grasping hole and lowered himself over you, his chest on yours, his lips inches from your own. He sank into you slowly, watched as his making space for himself inside you came over you, your eyes rolling back every so slightly before closing, the delicate moans from your parted lips. He breathed your name — your real name - as he reached the very end of you and you gasped, eyes opening to search his.

“Joel,” you whispered. He kissed you softly, sheathed within you. “Call me that again. Want… want to hear you say my name.”

He obeyed, pressing impossibly deeper before pulling out, slow but firm, before opening you up to him again, your name on his tongue as he did. Joel worked your body slow and steady, his orgasm building slowly alongside yours, your name falling from his lips again and again like a prayer in the night until your fluttering core made him spill into you.

Neither of you bothered putting clothes on before climbing into one sleeping bag, your bodies close and warm. He watched you sleep in his arms by the dying firelight and he wasn’t ready to let you go when you both woke up in the morning.

The warm glow of you left him optimistic as the two of you got underway again. It didn’t seem like anything could happen when he was with you like this. Like the two of you existed in a separate reality where people didn’t get hurt, where the evils of people couldn’t exist.

“Joel?” You said, a few hours into the journey on the return trail. He stopped his horse alongside yours and you nodded into the woods, a good 10 feet off the trail. It looked like a large animal had been making its way through the snow before turning around.

“Could be an elk or somethin’,” he said. “Might not be a horse…”

You didn’t respond. You just dismounted, grabbing your axe and patting Renaissance’s neck as you picked your way through the snow and the brush to the point off the trail. Joel sighed but followed you, catching up to you just as you froze, staring down at the snow. There were distinct signs that there was a person with the animal and Joel sighed before he realized exactly what you were staring at. Just the start of a footprint in the snow, it didn’t have the chance to sink low to the ground like they’d been stopped. Just shallow enough to easily make out the size of the foot. It was small, too small to belong to a grown man. It was either a child - maybe a teenager - or a small woman.

“Bambi…” he said cautiously, but you ignored him, turning on your heel, hooking your axe into its place on your saddle and mounting Renaissance.

“Those tracks are relatively fresh,” you said. “It was snowing until after midnight and they’re not covered.”

“We should go back and…”

“No,” you said sharply. “Then it might be too late. We have to try. Joel, please…”

He met your gaze, your eyes wide and desperate.

“Please,” you whispered.

He sighed but climbed back on his horse.

“Somethin’ goes bad,” he said. “You get back to Jackson, get help. Understand?”

You nodded and Joel led the way, trying to move as quickly as he could through the woods and the snow.

After going almost two hours out of the way, the two of you stumbled upon what had clearly been a campsite not all that long ago. There were signs of at least a dozen or so men, the campfires no longer warm but not snow-covered either.

You got off Renaissance again and started going around the area but Joel wasn’t sure what you were looking for. He dismounted, anyway, following close behind you as you picked through the signs of life that were here. Eventually, you whistled, something almost like a bird call but slightly off before going quiet.

“Bambi…”

“Shh.”

He obeyed and you gave another whistle the same way, holding your hand out to signal him to stay quiet. There was no response.

You visibly deflated before turning and pressing your face to Joel’s chest. He put his arms around you and held you gentle and close, feeling your warmth against him.

“You’re OK Love,” he said softly.

“Not me I’m worried about,” you sniffed, voice thick.

“I know,” he held you closer. “I know… I know you want to help people who are hurtin’ like you. But you can’t save everyone, Baby, you just can’t.”

You were silent and he just held you close.

“We’ll head back,” he said quietly. “Report it. Send a team out with enough guns and men to handle a group of this size, see what we can’t find.”

You nodded against him, clutching him close.

“We wouldn’t have been able to help ‘em,” he whispered. “There were too many of them, would have gotten us both killed. Better this way. They’ll have a chance now.”

You pulled away from him and dried your eyes.

“Should get back,” you said, tone serious. “Sooner we’re back to Jackson, sooner we can send help.”

“C’mon,” he put his arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the horses, turning to look back the way the two of you had come.

He stopped in his tracks.

Just like the sign you’d spotted months before, freshly carved into the trunks of the trees, were two large Xes, like they were waiting for him.

What scared him more was the thought that they might be waiting for you.

Next Chapter

A/N: Yay, soft Jackson Christmas!

...other stuff is happening too.

Really really really soon.

BUT I LOVE YOU!!!

Thank you so much for reading and for being here. I'm seriously so excited to share what's coming next, I hope you're excited to see what happens, too. All your kindness and support means the world, just thank you thank you thank you. Love you all!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #smut fic #joel miller x oc

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strawberryfairi · 4 months ago

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Synopsis🌹: After discovering a strange yet alluring red book in a boutique bookstore, you find yourself sucked into a strange world, where all of your inner most desires exist…

Pairings: Wakasa Imaushi X Musician! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Author AU, scifi, Musician! reader, reader is a talented nerd, smutty (slow burn) romance, tiny doses of angst, adventure, futuristic city, magic?, !!sexual tension!!, etc (just find out the rest, lol)

w.c: 3.4k💠 Released: October 12

Previous | Next | Chapters Masterlist

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: I figured I'd bless y'all with a little Saturday night smut, teehee🤭

C.W: Oral Sex (fem receiving)

Tags: @nixalozt @lilthana @wakasaishot (I hope y'all enjoy this chapter as well🌹)

↳ (Let me know via inbox or the comment section if you would also like to be tagged here for this story🩵). Enjoy guys!!

𝟑 || 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬

(Bliss Theme: Fantasy - Lost Traveler)

"Mmmm." You moan, licking your lips and raising the glass to take a much bigger sip than last time. And another one, then another.

"Easy, Doll. Don't drink it too fast." Wakasa muses with a grin.

You blink, as suddenly, the world around you seems somehow even brighter. Then when you glance over at him, your heart does an overdramatic flip. His voice had sounded so different. It's like he has some kind of natural reverb affect, with the way it echoed softly in your mind like a faded whisper. It's much more sensual than before. But wait, now that you think about it, everything about him seems at least ten times more attractive than before. And that's saying something since he's already damn fine.

You go to open your mouth, but your words catch right in your throat. And that's when you feel it. This odd sensation in your eyes, a gentle little thrum that makes you blink again.

You blink once more, and one more time, then catch a look of your reflection in a nearby glass bottle on one of the bartender's shelves. Your eyes, they're glowing. But not just glowing like the bartender and other people's eyes, they're pulsing. With little, cute, neon pink hearts.

You do a double take, before turning back towards Wakasa, wondering if he's noticed the change in your eyes too. But as soon as your eyes land on him again, it feels like you've been pulled into some kind of trance. For a moment, the world around you seems to slow like a scene out of a movie. It almost plays a trick on your mind, making you believe for half a second that maybe time really has slowed down.

You stare at him openly, unashamedly, and for the first time in the history of you checking a guy out, you don't even try to hide it. The edges of your lips curl into a lazy, content smile as you tilt your head, fully taking in his appearance as if it were the first time.

Wakasa is striking in a way that seems almost unfair. His lilac colored eyes gleam under the dim lights of the underground club, their half-lidded, relaxed gaze giving the impression of someone who doesn't even need to try to be this devastatingly attractive.

His full lips are so dangerously tempting. Every word he speaks, every grin, it's like a bold dare for you to lean close and steal a kiss. Each little detail about him feels meticulously perfect, yet somehow completely effortless.

"You're feelin' it now, huh?" He says softly. His voice is almost tangible, like a gentle caress against your cheek that sends shivers down your spine. You giggle, the sound light and bubbly as it escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your fingers raise to toy bashfully with a coil of your thick hair, twisting it this way and that as you keep your heart eyed gaze locked onto him, unable to look away.

"Yeaah." You nod dumbly, "I feel so amazing." Another small burst of giggles leaves your lips.

Wakasa notices the shift in your demeanor, of course. His half-lidded eyes flickering down towards you as a faint smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. "You're lookin' at me like you've never seen a guy before." He teases.

You don't bother trying to deny it. Why should you? The drink in your system made it impossible to pretend, and honestly, you don't even want to. You let out another soft giggle, biting your lip as you continue to openly admire him.

"I've never seen one like you. You're beautiful." You sigh, your voice low yet airy. "Like...really beautiful."

Wakasa chuckles, the sound warm and amused, clearly enjoying your new found boldness. "Oh yeah?"

Your eyes lower subconsciously, shamelessly lingering on his tempting lips again before drifting back up to his eyes. "Yeaah." You reply, your voice almost a hum. You're still sitting there twirling your hair, cheeks on fire as the pink hearts relentlessly pulse in your eyes.

You feel so giddy, a little dazed by the effects of the drink, but mostly just completely and utterly captivated by him. It's like some kind of love spell, keeping you locked onto him and nobody or anything else.

"You're staring, Doll." He teases softly, leaning in towards you just a little.

"I know," You admit with a coy smile. "I can't help it."

He takes another long sip, finishing his drink with that smirk still present on his lips. "You're lucky you're cute."

You let out an excited little gasp, your heart catapulting itself against your chest. As soon as his words leave his lips, he blinks, and you notice those neon pink hearts begin to pulse from his eyes.

Excitement bubbles from deep within, and the only thing you wanna do, for some odd reason, is get on that dance floor with him.

"I wanna dance," You say softly, "I wanna dance with you."

Before he can answer, you take his hand and lead him away from the bar, the touch sending a ripple of electricity through you. Without protest he follows behind you onto the dance floor, the crowd parting for you both before closing back in like a tide. The music is much louder here, the bass thrumming deep in your chest, and the synths vibrating all through the walls of the place. It feels like stepping into another world.

You move to the center of the floor, surrounded by bodies swaying and shifting to the beat, each lost in their own euphoric trance. You turn to face him, his lilac eyes and pink hearts glowing under the flashing lights. There's a mischievous glint in them, but something more, too—something that makes you feel like you're the only person in the room.

Wakasa's hands rest low on your hips, pulling you close to him until there's barely any space left between you. His chest presses against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his body seeping into your own through your clothes.

You tilt your head up to find his eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away. There is only him. His sultry eyes, the way his hair frames his face, dyed strands catching the neon lights, and the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips.

The music swirls around you two, the deep bass thudding in time with your heart. Every movement feels like a silent conversation—a brush of fingers, a sway of your hips, a tilt of your head—and the more you dance, the more you feel yourself getting lost in him. It's like he's drawing you in, pulling you further without any fight into his orbit. Into his world.

You don't even notice how close you both have gotten until your back is pressed tightly against his chest, both hands resting on your waist and holding you in place as you move together. The faint whisper of his scent triggers shivers to race down your spine. Your hands boldly place themselves overtop of his, adding a whole new level of closeness to your beautiful acquaintance.

Wakasa's lips brush faintly by your ear past your hair, and you can just feel the little smirk that tugs at them as he murmurs, "You look good with those little hearts in your eyes."

You blink, startled, realizing that the neon pink hearts are still there, pulsing and thrumming with fervent life in your eyes, all centered on Wakasa.

"How does Bliss even do this to our eyes?" You ask curiously.

"It's hard to explain the how, but I know you get these hearts when you're with someone you're attracted to." He explains with a hint of amusement in his tone.

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you don't shy away. Instead, you allow yourself to lean back into him and close your eyes, feeling the solid warmth of his body against yours.

"It's just 'cause you're so close to me," You reply playfully, your tone light and airy.

"Mhm." Wakasa agrees, but there's something in his voice, a knowingness, an intensity that makes you think he's fully aware of exactly the kind of effect he has on you.

"And maybe it's 'cause you're so close to me." His fingers trace feather-light patterns on your upper thighs near the hem of your dress, and you feel a deep flutter in your stomach that has absolutely nothing to do with the Bliss and everything to do with the man that's holding you.

The song shifts once more, slowing down, and you both move in sync, swaying gently to the softer beat. The crowd around you fades into the background, their movements becoming a blur of color and light. You bask in the way his hands leave flirtatious trails of electric fuzziness as he continues to slowly stroke your sides up and down. It's as if his hands are hypnotized by your body.

Then, in a low, deliciously sultry tone he asks, "What d'you wanna do now?"

You don't even hesitate with your response as you turn around to face him. "I wanna have smokin' hot sex with you; all night long." You tell him, your voice dripping with want as you look him right in the eyes.

His brows raise, for the first time looking genuinely caught of guard, though the amusement is clear on his face. Without another word, he wraps an arm around your waist, his other hand cupping your cheek as his lips crash onto yours for the most intoxicating, toe curling kiss you've ever received. It's searing like fire, and electric at the same time. His lips move against yours masterfully, caressing your lips and eliciting a soft moan that reverberates against his.

Your arms don't dare delay to wrap around his neck, his tongue coaxing your lips apart, and deepening the kiss. You feel so amazing, so alive. You're more alive than you've ever felt before, ever. And with everything in you, you don't want this to end. You love it here, right in this moment, somewhere far from reality, far from the dull monotony of real life.

It's magic here, and you wanna stay.

You can't help the small whine you let out as he slowly pulls away, the hearts in his eyes pulsing at a much faster pace than before as he gazes down at you.

"Come on." He says, his tone a bit breathless as he guides you through the sea of people by your hand. You nod, biting your lip excitedly.

He leads you down a hallway, painted electric blue with neon pink heart signs all over the walls and in a straight line along the ceiling, resembling the hearts that appear in people's eyes from the effect of Bliss. There's two other signs, one that points to the men's and another to the women's bathrooms.

You aren't completely sure which one he takes you into, as you're way too focused on being amazed at the way his lips move against yours yet he manages to skillfully enter the bathroom with you at the same time.

He picks you up with ease and sets you down on the edge of one of the bathroom sinks, hiking up your dress in the process. Wakasa pulls away, only to lay down a trail of fiery kisses along your exposed neck. Your face explodes with heat as you bite your lip, overwhelmed by the feeling of him hungrily sucking on your neck in between each kiss.

The sound of his lips against your skin and your soft, airy whimpers begin to echo like distant music in the dimly lit bathroom. He gives you hickeys everywhere you're most sensitive, licks your neck, kisses your collarbones.

"Wakasa, I-I-..." You trail off shyly, already losing whatever it was you were trying to say like it's a forgotten memory. He leans up, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

"What?" He murmurs against your lips.

"I don't know." You whisper back, your eyes immediately getting themselves lost in his.

"You gettin' shy on me now?" He teases, then sucks on your bottom lip gently, earning himself a needy, low pitched moan from you. "Mm mm."

"Good, 'cause I'm gonna spread your legs and make you cum on my tongue. How's that sound?" He asks sensually, the hearts in his eyes combined with the seriousness in his voice hypnotizing you. You feel your breath hitch as your heart clumsily skips a beat, and a deep, unmissable flutter between your legs. His words nearly knocked the wind out of you. You can't think of a time a man has ever been so sexually bold with you.

"That sounds fantastic." You sigh wistfully, your cheeks impossibly warm. Had you been fully in your right mind, you would've never agreed to doing something like this in such a risky, public place. But a part of you deep down knows full well how much you've always wanted to try it.

Looking at you with an amused expression, he pulls away, taking his hair down from it's previous style. You're mesmerized for a moment as his dyed hair cascades down to his shoulders, pretty purple mixing together with blonde. Then, he puts his hair back up, this time in a lazy bun. He kneels down in front of you, his hands gently stroking your plush thighs before spreading them open.

You bite your lip, the thrill of possibly getting caught pumping through your veins as he slowly pulls your black lace panties to the side. You whimper as cool air makes contact with your pussy. Wakasa stares hungrily for a while, cussing under his breath as he licks his lips. It's like he's a starved man, and you, his first meal in thirty days.

"I want you to watch me. Don't look away." He instructs lowly as he kisses your inner thighs. Butterflies erupt all throughout your stomach, giving him a lazy nod in response.

"Your pussy's so pretty..." He hums seductively, almost sounding like a moan.

You let out a deep gasp as he abruptly brings his face in, and runs his warm, wet tongue between your folds at a sickeningly delicious pace. He begins with open mouthed kisses, his tongue flicking upwards against your touch-starved clit every time his lips pull away. You jump a little with every abrupt stripe of his tongue, letting out a mixture between a startled whimper and a moan.

Then he sucks on your pearly clit, and his warm hands massage and caress your soft legs. Your own hands fly downwards, gripping onto his luscious hair as you let out a long, drawn out moan of pleasure.

Unconsciously, your legs try to close, clamping down and caging his head in place like a trap. He reacts quickly, grabbing underneath your thighs and holding your legs open.

He picks up the pace, fluttering his tongue and sucking on your clit a little rougher, forcing your moans to rise in volume. "Uuuughh!" You close your eyes, throwing your head back in pure ecstasy. He lets out a deep, low moan, the sound vibrating against your pussy and sending shockwaves up your body. He turns you on so much.

His tongue ventures down to your little, pink hole, pressing and prodding against it teasingly before sliding inside.

"Wakasa!", You cry out with a gasp, "That feels so goooood!" Your legs shake, and your heels slowly slide off of your feet, clacking against the hard ground. The moans you give him spur him on, and his movements become much dirtier, slurping you up messily.

"Ohh, uuugh!" Your small hands tighten their grip on his hair, subconsciously using it to press his face closer. You have officially become a coalescence of pants, and more whinier, sob-like moans. You get the feeling he likes it when you pull on his hair with the way he moans a bit louder against your pussy. You hear him panting, and occasionally taking a deeper breath, completely engulfed in this like it's his only purpose. He's on a mission.

You may not know much at all about this man, but one thing is for certain...

He is, indisputably, the king of oral sex.

It's the way he has your body twitching, toes curling, head thrown back and lips parted wide as mewls escape them like a running faucet. Every movement of his tongue is well thought out, strategically planned to sink you deeper and deeper into ecstasy. He's amazing. He's gotta know what he's doing to you.

Then, your eyes meet, and you swear you could cum just from the sight of him alone. Watching him worship your pussy has you instantly skyrocketing towards an orgasm that you can tell is about to be mind-fuzzing. His eyes are ablaze with lust, the hearts only working to further emphasize it. And his cheeks, you notice, are dusted lightly pink. He looks so damn good like this.

"Wa-Wakasa, mmm...'s so good! Please don't stop! I-I'm gonna cum!" You cry loudly, the slight anxiousness of being caught long forgotten. Your fingers tangle in his hair tighter, holding on like it's your sanity. You become a mess, nothing but loud moans and cries.

You throw your head back, both hands pressing his head further against your throbbing pussy as your little toes curl. You can feel the pink hearts in your eyes pulsing at a rapid fire, reacting along with the rest of your body to his touch. It's overwhelming, his tongue working you up like this. He's freaking amazing.

"There you go, angel." He murmurs against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your core. "Lemme taste you."

And that was all you needed to finally reach the peak. You cum so satisfyingly hard, crying out loudly as your legs tremble. It's astounding, the way he so easily guided you straight into heaven. No man has ever made you cum so hard, so fast. Even you couldn't make yourself reach this level of pleasure.

He allows you to ride it out, then gives your pussy a gentle little kiss before he pulls away. You pant, your grip loosening as you lean back against the mirror behind you. With a blissful sigh, the corners of your lips shift into a little satisfied smile.

Wakasa gives you an amused look, "Looks like you liked it." He says, placing his hands on your waist. You look at him, heart eyed and dazed, pulling him gently into a lust filled kiss. Your all goes into it, giving him a silent show of gratitude. Then as you finally pull away from his soft lips you mutter, "Loved it."

His grin widens, and something in his eyes glimmers, making your stomach do a small flip. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watching you with that same knowing smirk. Wakasa leans back just a bit, giving you a moment to collect yourself, though his hands on your waist stay firmly in place, grounding you.

"Good," He says, his tone light but with an underlying edge of satisfaction. "'Cause I’ve been thinkin' about doing that all night."

You feel your breath hitch at his words, your pulse quickening once more. Your mind is still reeling from just a moment ago, and now his words are making you feel even more off balance. You lick your lips, trying to steady yourself, but all you can think about is the way his mouth had felt on your pussy, and how much you want to feel it again.

He must have sensed it, the way you're still stuck on cloud nine, because he chuckles softly, his fingers stroking your sides in a way that sends those familiar shivers up your spine. "So," He starts, his voice smooth, almost too casual. "You wanna get out of here?"

You blink dumbly. "And go where?"

Wakasa’s grin turns playful, that glint in his eyes never leaving. "My place," He replies, his voice a low murmur. Then, with a slightly teasing raise of his brow, he adds, "If you want."

The suggestion hangs in the air between the two of you, the weight of it making your pulse race even faster. For a moment, you just stare at him, your heart thudding wildly in your chest. The idea of leaving the crowded club, of being alone with him, makes you feel a tidal wave of exhilaration.

And honestly with the way he's looking at you, the astounding sex preview he'd just given you, and the bliss in your system—it makes your decision all too easy. You nod, your lips curling into an excited little smile, and despite the few butterflies swirling in your stomach, you tell him, "I'd love to."

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