#scream 5 x male!reader

[infernalodie]

Tara Carpenter X Male!Reader

So I had an idea. Basically R and Tara are dating and R has 2 personality's, one personality is the sweet caring and gentle boyfriend/brother/son/Friend. The other personality is the dark, twisted and psychotic man that no one knows about, not even himself( maybe one of his personalities is one of the past killers). Well he sort of has an idea that the killer is him, he realises something is wrong when he hears about a single killer walking around in a mask murdering people- when one day he wakes up with blood covering him.

He goes to the party with Tara, everyone's there. Halfway through he disappears and Tara notices, ghost face pops out and no one knows it's R having an episode. Everyone gangs up on ghost face and they are shocked to see R. But after saying his name, he doesn't respond, and says his name is (whoever you want). They knock him out because they realise something's wrong but they don't take him to the police they tie him up in the basement and sit around waiting for him to wake up. When he does it's R again but he keeps slipping between personalities, R is crying but the other personality is finding joy in the situation- R keeps apologising and the all try and calm him down. R slowly starts to understand what's going on and is just sobbing/begging for help. You can decide how it ends.

𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

"𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦? 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯"

Inspo: XXXTENTACION - Save Me NF - DRIFTING

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Male!reader

Summary: A constant plea for a savour in a world as dark as you saw it...

Warnings: Split personality disorder, murder, angst, character death, and heavily described suicide.

Words: 3453

DNI IF YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

One breath.

It was sharp. Abrupt. Sudden. It made you shoot up and stumble back where your body met a door. Eyes flickering all around you and only finding the oddity of your surroundings being unfamiliar to you. The blue ceramic tiled walls, the rotting sink top, the cracked glass, and the toilet that was foul to your nose.

The longer you took in your surroundings, the more you became apparent of the blackout of memory you’d experienced. And the more you looked, the more fucked up you became by your set of circumstances.

Your eyes looked into the cracked reflection of yourself and found a crimson figure. It was you, covered in blood. Finally looking down at yourself, you choked on your breath. Blood covered you from the top of your head to the bottom of your shoes. The only saving grace was the leather gloves snuggly slipped over your hands. Your grey shirt was stained, denim jeans were splashed and smeared with the blood of someone or something that didn’t belong to you.

“On tonight’s breaking news, landowners, Marie Goldwin and her wife, Kassidy Limberg, were found murdered in their front yard tonight.” That announcement that came from the TV outside of the bathroom made you freeze. “So far, police haven’t been able to give a statement to the community.”

Opening the door, you stepped out into what seemed to be a motel at first glance. It was like every small, run-down motel that no one would go to. But the further you looked across the room, the more you quickly saw the large white tarp that was stapled to the walls and floor, and the thick plastic wrap covering the bed. Then you were able to spot the splash of blood that stuck out like a sore thumb.

“The police have set a curfew for the town until they can figure out what has happened and where to take the next step,” the news anchor added. “So, please, everyone, stay safe.”

“Ahhh, what the fuck?” You muttered, eye twitching as you quickly ran to the front door and locked it. Backing away as you run your hands through your hair. “I was in my car. I was driving to Tara’s and then I…” The ramblings falling from your lips faded as you looked back at the TV and shook your head. “No, I couldn’t have…”

It was dark out, so you might’ve just gotten here. In some weird faded memory that you had no knowledge of, maybe you went out of your way and murdered those two women. Maybe you had something to drink or took something that didn’t kick in until then. What fucking happened between 7 PM to now?

You took the time to have a shower and wash off every droplet of blood from your skin. The drain swept the crimson away and into the pipes that would hide away the first step of your contribution to a murder. But you wouldn’t accept this because you weren’t capable of this. This wasn’t you and everyone would know that. Yet, you couldn’t take any chances. You’ve watched YOU, and you know the steps that need to be taken. So, thank god there were cleaning chemicals under the sink and your vehicle parked out front.

So, doing what you could, you carefully folded up the tarp, placing your shirt in the center before quickly rushing it out and placing it in the bed of your truck. Hiding it behind the toolbox and spare tire before going back inside and taking bleach to everything. There was no way to be sure what you could’ve touched before you came to, so you took it to the carpet, bathroom, tv, the remote, door handles- everything! You couldn’t be too safe.

And it hurt you in a way to be doing this. The fact that you just wanted to run, but were covering your tracks. You felt more like the perpetrator than the innocent. So, in a way, you were helping in a murder that you didn’t commit. Unless you did, but you couldn’t have. Never in your life did you ever want to hurt someone in the way that those two landowners suffered. It must be a frame job and be placed on you, someone who was trying to get through school and love his girlfriend wholeheartedly.

Yet, here you were, rushing out of the motel with the room keys tight in your grasp as you slid into the driver's seat. Starting up the vehicle just as your eyes were drawn to four garbage bags in the passenger seat. Your jaw clenched, swallowing the lump in your throat as you hesitantly pulled the hem back to be greeted by two lifeless eyes and the foul stench of blood and rotting flesh. You gagged, pushing your truck door open and vomiting.

You could already tell this would be a long night.

“You okay?”

You lift your gaze from the streets that were slowly becoming the same the longer you drove. They flicker to Tara who sat in the passenger seat of your car, accommodating you to the party Amber was hosting.

“Yeah,” you dismiss forcefully.

Tara purses her lips, looking down at her hands. Dragging her nails gently across the back of her hand. “Are you sure?” She prods further, seeing if there is an opening that she might be able to expose.

“If you want to say something Tara, then do it,” you say softly as possible.

She lets out an exhale flow through her nose, shaking her head. “You just have seemed… off,” she mutters. “Is it anything you want to talk about?”

It took almost all your willpower to not make it apparent that there was something very clearly bothering you. Ever since the death of the landowners and you waking up in that Motel, things in Woodsboro had been growing tenser and unpredictable. Killings were now happening every few weeks and the bodies were continuing to add up to a small hill. Police were doing patrols around town and there were rumours of FBI agents starting to catch word of the massacre going on in the small town.

So, to say you were bothered would be an understatement. And with how frequent these blackouts had started becoming, you were beginning to suspect the worse of yourself.

“Nothing that you need to worry about.” You smiled, reaching over and grasping one of her hands, squeezing tenderly. It gave you the chance to see Tara smile, seemingly dropping the conversation and allowing her to soak up the warmth of your calloused hand.

The party was going strong by the time you and Tara arrived. Each step out away from the safety of your vehicle made the sound of music and the flashing lights of the windows grow brighter. And when you stepped inside, you instantly regretted leaving your house.

A harsh wave of heat hit your face. Music blasting at full max blinds your senses and the flashing lights discombobulate your vision. You couldn’t help yourself when you harshly rubbed your eyes, hoping that the dark lighting and sudden flashes would be something you became adjusted to.

Tara’s hand met your forearm, shaking you from the daze of the party you didn’t even want to attend. Her lips barely grazed the shell of your ear as she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling. Pulling the back hem of your pants and sighing as you leaned down to her ear. “I just need the bathroom really quick.”

She nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek, her touch lingering for a moment before she parted from your side when seeing Chad and Amber. You exhaled heavily, forcing yourself up the steps and toward the upstairs bathroom. Feeling that all too familiar flicker of your vision deviating. The strength in your body is slowly being extracted just as you reach the top of the stairs. And once you reach that bathroom door, stumbling inside with the darkness being your only friend, you were consumed by it.

“Has Y/n seemed…off to you?” Tara asked aloud to the group, who were all gathered around the table. Each holding a drink in their hands with their face seeming to share the same unbeknownst look that Tara couldn’t relate to. “He hasn’t been himself for months. Texts have been less and calls are as frequent as they were.”

“Maybe he is messing around with a new chick.” Chad’s drunken comment earned a firm slap upside the head from his sister. Mindy sent him a look that made him purse his lips, exhaling heavily. “I mean, nothing has seemed out of the ordinary for me, at least. Still shows up to school. Still works at the music store. What is it that you think is wrong with him?”

“Well, for starters. He said he would be back after going to the bathroom, but that’s been an hour ago.” Her words were sharp and pierced each of them with realization.

None of them had been aware that it had been that long. Maybe they’d been so caught up in talking and ushering all the kids out of the house, and cleaning that they forgot you had even been here. But Tara trusted in you saying you were fine. Then again, maybe you just needed to head home and rest.

“Are you sure he didn’t text you telling you he was heading home or anything?” Amber inquired, seeming uninterested in her friend's relationship troubles.

“Or maybe he’s still in the bathroom?” Liv said with a scowl, shrugging.

But then there was a painful grinding of metal against metal. The screech made the others cringe as they looked in the direction of where the sound came from. And within the shadows they found a lingering dark figure. Yet, they all could see the glint of light bouncing off of a blade.

And before anyone could get a word out, the figure came running at them, revealing Ghost face. They went charging at Chad, sending him flying into the counter. A yell fell from the boy’s lips, quickly grabbing the killer's wrists as they tried to plunge the knife into him.

The others were quick to grab weapons and hit the killer. It was enough to knock the killer to the ground with a groan after Amber hit them over the head with a chair. Knocking the mask and making everyone freeze in their steps.

“Y/n?” Liv muttered, brows scrunching together in confusion.

But instead of guilt or fear, you smiled. “Name’s Samael, sweetheart.”

Chad took it upon himself to kick you in the face, knocking you out. Silence fell over the room, everyone staring at your unconscious body. Tara wanted to scramble over and hold you. Question where you had been and if this was some sick type of joke. But the unsettling feeling that had been in her stomach for months was apparent. And this might be the cause of it.

“We can’t keep him here or take him home,” Tara explained. “Check his car keys. He keeps a key to the music store. Maybe he take him there.”

Mindy quickly reached into your pockets and pulled out your keys. Everyone quickly made a way to grab you and get you to someone's vehicle. But the entire time Tara tried to figure out what was going on with you. Why did you say your name was Samael? Why were you killing people? How long had you been doing this until you stopped caring?

“Oh, what the fuck is this?” Chad muttered, staring at the cage that was built in the center of the basement. Lights above giving

“What does it matter? We have to get him in there before he wakes up,” Mindy told her brother, helping Amber and Liv carry your unconscious body down the steps and toward the cage. Finding a key stuck in the lock, they pulled the door open and placed your body inside. Ushering out before locking it behind them.

Tara ran her hands through her hair. “Ok, what do we do now?” She asked frantically. “Do we call the police? Do we wait until he wakes up?”

“What the fuck do you mean, Tara?” Amber exclaimed. “The better question; what the fuck is wrong with Y/n and building some Saw level cage in the basement of the music store? And is he the killer?”

“There’s no doubt about it,” Chad commented, glancing at the others. “I mean, he was wearing the Ghost face outfit, Tara. He tried to kill me! The blood on the fucking ground! And he called himself “Samael”? We have no choice but to call the police-”

Hearing the sound of groan sound through the basement made them all spin toward the cage. You stirred, running a hand over your face, hissing with your head shooting up abruptly. “Fuck. My head…”

As your eyes flickered open, you caught sight of your friends. Fear spilled from the brims of their eyes. It caused you to slowly sit up and finally take in the surroundings. A cage. Something so familiar and identical to YOU. “What the fuck?” Shooting up to your feet, you looked around before your eyes found Tara. “Baby, what the fuck is going on?”

“Shut the fuck up, man!” Chad exclaimed. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Is this some sort of joke? Were you really trying to kill me back there?”

But hearing your friend's questions made you frown. Unable to remember what had led you to be locked in a cage. Then there was the feeling back from when you hid that body. The knowledge that something else stirred inside of you that you had no way of knowing if it was real or not.

“I’m scared, guys,” you admitted, walking toward the glass. Tears beginning to bubble over the brims of your eyes. “I don’t know what I did. Guys, I don’t know what is wrong with me. Did I hurt anyone?”

“Why did you kill them, Y/n?” Tara wept, sitting on her knees. Your warm eyes were spilling over with tears of your own as you shook your head. But just like before, you tensed up, eyes rolling back with your head rolling back slightly with Samael coming to the surface.

“I don’t thrive on the killing, Tara,” he said, a gentle hum in his throat, rising from the spot Y/n had found in front of the glass. Beginning to pace back in forth where the others watched from behind Tara. All of them were disturbed by this new discovery of what sat beneath your smiles and soft words. “I fucking live for it. I mean, the first time I killed, it was wrong. I know that. But, fuck, did it feel fucking amazing to shut that stupid bitch up.”

Seeing Tara physically shiver in either fear or disgust satisfied Samael. It buoyed him. Allowed him to feel some sort of power in this situation when he and you were both at risk of what these teenagers might be willing to keep Woodsboro safe.

Tara pursed her lips, nose twitching as she bowed her head, eyes flickering shut. “Samael, can you please let me talk to Y/n?”

“Oh, but this is a question for me, isn’t it?” He asked, lips quirking into a grin. “Y/n isn’t capable of killing. We both know that.” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, shaking his head with a laugh. “But he’s becoming desensitized by it, Tara. It’s only a matter of time before he and I become one.”

“Just leave him be, Sam!” Tara pleaded. “He doesn’t deserve the shit you’re putting him through. You’re just a fucking infection that’s going to get him killed.”

Samael pouts mockingly, crouching in front of the glass opposite Tara. “And here I thought that after everything Y/n’s done to stay with you, you would love the both of us the same,” he said, hands resting against the glass as he draws his face closer toward the divider.” I mean, that little shit helped me hide a body that I cut up into tiny bits just so he could make it to your place on time. Hell, maybe we could be a fucked up murdering trio with due time.”

Tara shook her head in denial. “He’s not going to end up like you,” she spat. “We’re going to block you out somehow. I won’t allow him to be a monster like you.”

Again, that familiar tenseness in your body appeared. The once stoic, boisterous nature that Sameal held disappeared with your trembling. “Samael, just please.” You leaned back on your knees, staring up at the ceiling of the cage. “Stop. I can’t do this.”

“Y/n, it’s my time!” Samael yelled, rising to the surface. “You’ve had your chance at the wheel. I let you deliver what you could, but it wasn’t enough. You had a great ride, but it’s my turn to give the people of Woodsboro something to remember.”

“This is my life-!”

Your words and presence were ripped away once again with Samael unable to contain the mocking laugh that fell from his lips. “Oh, my God! Do you even hear yourself, man?” He questioned. “For 18 years, you have been dragging your feet telling everyone that you’ll be fine. Promising progress, but where is it at now, Y/n? Where are the wonders of the Adderall pills you had been promised? Because all they’ve shown is that I’ve become more involved since!”

Beneath the surface, you were trembling, fighting and hoping to reach some sort of precipice that might enlighten you of a way to stave off Samael. But the longer you sat in this dark void, oblivious to what is happening beyond through the windows that Samael continued to take claim of, you realized how far hope really was. It was intangible.

So, as the needles of revelation stabbed into your veins, injecting the gravity of the situation, you pushed yourself to the surface. The ringing in your ears, the adrenaline, clouded everything outside of your thoughts. Blocking out the voices that might pull you toward a hopeless state.

And Tara watched as you scrambled toward the small box that Samael used for his victims. A one-way compartment that you guessed was used to give food or drinks. The edge was sharp and blunt. But not too blunt that a direct impact would do the damage you needed.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing?” Samael called out.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stared at the edge before exhaling slowly. “Stopping you.”

There wasn’t a warning for anyone when you swung your head down upon the edge. The sickening crack and wet sound filled the air, making everyone gasp in shock. Tara’s lips were parted with the bubbling of nausea forming when you lifted your face, revealing your forehead split open, blood sliding down your forehead. Slipping down the curve of your eye socket and invading your vision. A quiet hiss falls from your lips. But it didn’t amount to painstakingly harsh pound echoing in each and every part of your skull.

“Stop!” Samael screamed. “You don’t want to do this, Y/n! This won’t just kill me, you’ll kill yourself. Think about Tara! I’ll stop, man. Just don’t do this!”

With your mind forming a heavy haze and eyes becoming blinded by your blood, you managed one final glance toward Tara. Seeing the fear and desperation to do something, but didn’t have the strength to move. Caught within her own mind and the shock of you standing there, on the brink of death to end this torment you’d been unaware of until tonight.

And came with a heavy heart to stare at her anymore. Hoping that even if no words were spoken, you wouldn’t blame her for anything she couldn’t have done. Because even if she’d liked to save you, the damage was already done.

“Fuck it.”

Tara saw you roll your head back and she felt her eyes widen. Finally being grounded and screaming, “No-!” But it was too late, your head saved in on the edge of the surface and you hit the ground with a loud thud. A whimper fell from Tara’s lips as she saw your lifeless eyes stare back at her. Your forehead caved in and your face became unrecognizable by the blood that seeped from the wound.

One of the most important parts of her life was now covered in blood from her lack of assistance that she had no way of helping you through.

[geotjwrs]

Hey just found your account and I love you work! It’s really hard to find good writers for male readers lol. A request I have is for Jenna ortega, would like it to be in semi-public like backstage of press interviews or something along those lines. Kinks include: breeding, spitting in each others mouths, dirty talk, rough, and feet licking (hers of course). Again, big fan, and obviously you don’t have to include all of the kinks if any make you uncomfortable!

fitting room (18+)

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; rough smut (minors dni!)

Jenna and Y/N couldn't hide their excitement as they made their way to the press interview for their new movie franchise of Scream. They were secretly dating, and their chemistry was undeniable. As they walked the red carpet, their eyes locked, and they couldn't help but smile.

The interview went smoothly, and the two charmed the journalists with their wit and playful banter. However, Jenna couldn't help but feel a little horny under the bright lights and knowing that Y/N was just a few feet away. She was eager for the interview to end so they could get some privacy.

As the interview wrapped up, Jenna quickly pulled Y/N into a fitting room backstage. She locked the door behind them, and before Y/N could speak, Jenna pressed her lips against his, their tongues swirling in a passionate dance.

Y/N let out a deep groan as Jenna's lips met his. "Fuck, Jenna," he whispered, pulling her closer. "I've been wanting to do that all day."

Jenna smirked, her lips leaving his for a moment. "I know," she purred, unbuttoning her blouse. "I'm so fucking horny, Y/N. I need you to fuck me right now."

Y/N's eyes widened, and a thrill ran through him. He knew they had to be careful, but the idea of fucking Jenna right there in the fitting room was too tempting to resist.

Jenna's breasts spilled out of her bra, and Y/N couldn't help but take one of her hard nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently. Jenna moaned, her hands running through Y/N's hair, pulling him closer.

"Oh, Y/N," she gasped, her back arching as he licked and sucked her nipples. "Yes, baby, just like that. I need you so bad."

Y/N's cock throbbed in his pants, straining against the fabric. He could feel Jenna's wetness soaking through her skirt as he continued to pleasure her breasts.

"Stand up, baby," Y/N growled, unzipping his pants and pulling out his rock-hard cock. "I need to taste that sweet pussy of yours."

Jenna obeyed, standing up as Y/N pushed her skirt up, revealing her soaking wet panties. Y/N wasted no time, burying his face between her legs, his tongue licking and teasing her through the thin fabric.

"Oh, fuck, baby," Jenna moaned, her hands gripping his hair. "That feels so good, baby. Don't stop."

Y/N growled in response, the taste of Jenna's sweet juices driving him wild. He pulled her panties to the side, his tongue finding her clit and flicking it gently.

"Oh, god, Y/N!" Jenna cried out, her legs trembling. "Yes, right there, baby. Make me cum."

Y/N continued to work Jenna's clit, his fingers sliding inside her wet pussy. The sounds of Jenna's moans and Y/N's groans filled the small fitting room, their bodies writhing in pleasure.

Jenna's orgasm built quickly, her body tensing as Y/N expertly licked and fingered her. "Oh, fuck, Y/N," she gasped, her voice ragged. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Right there, don't stop."

Y/N continued to work Jenna's clit, his fingers pumping in and out of her wet pussy as she reached her climax. Jenna's screams echoed through the room as she came hard, her juices flowing down Y/N's hand.

As Jenna caught her breath, Y/N stood up, his cock still hard and throbbing. "Turn around, baby," he growled, guiding Jenna to face the mirror. "I want to watch you while I fuck you."

Jenna complied, bending over and exposing her wet, swollen pussy to Y/N. She watched in the mirror as Y/N positioned himself behind her, his cock sliding between her slick folds.

"Yes, baby," Jenna moaned, her eyes locked on their reflection. "Fuck me hard, Y/N. I need it so bad."

Y/N didn't hesitate, thrusting his cock deep inside Jenna's pussy. He grabbed her hips, pulling her closer as he began to fuck her roughly. Jenna let out a deep moan, her eyes never leaving their reflection.

"Oh, god, Y/N!" Jenna cried out, her body shaking with each thrust. "Yes, right there, baby. Fuck me like you mean it."

Y/N growled in response, his hips slamming against Jenna's as he fucked her hard and deep. The sounds of their bodies slapping together and their moans filled the small room, their passion uncontrollable.

Jenna felt another orgasm building, her body trembling with each thrust. "Oh, fuck, baby!" she gasped, her voice ragged. "I'm gonna cum again, baby. Oh, god, yes!"

Y/N continued to fuck Jenna, his cock buried deep inside her as she reached her climax. Jenna's screams echoed through the room as she came hard, her juices flowing down Y/N's cock.

As Jenna caught her breath, Y/N pulled out, his cock still hard and wet with her juices. He smirked, spitting in his hand and rubbing it over his cock.

"Turn around, baby," Y/N growled, guiding Jenna to face him. "I'm gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours."

Jenna obeyed, turning around and kneeling before Y/N. She looked up at him with lust in her eyes, her lips parted in anticipation.

Y/N groaned, his cock throbbing as he stroked it. He could feel his orgasm building, the thought of cumming all over Jenna's pretty face driving him wild.

As Jenna opened her mouth, Y/N let out a deep groan, his cock erupting in a torrent of cum. Jenna moaned, her tongue darting out to catch some of his cum as it sprayed over her face.

"Oh, fuck, Jenna," Y/N gasped, his cock still pumping out cum. "That feels so good, baby. Swallow it all, just like that."

Jenna did as she was told, swallowing Y/N's cum as it filled her mouth. She could feel her pussy throbbing, her own juices still flowing from their rough fucking.

As their orgasms subsided, Y/N helped Jenna to her feet, their bodies still trembling with pleasure. They smiled at each other, knowing that they couldn't keep their secret for much longer.

[huntfeld]

For You

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader

Summary: In New York City, Tara Carpenter faces the aftermath of the Ghostface killings while grappling with her intense feelings for her possessive friend. As their bond deepens, they must navigate the chaos around them, ready to protect each other at all costs.

The streets of New York were alive with vibrant energy, but for Tara Carpenter, the noise faded into a distant hum. She stood by her apartment window, staring out at the city skyline. The chaos below felt worlds away from her life, which had been turned upside down by Ghostface's return. Even with the weight of the fear pressing on her, the only thought that consumed her mind was you—her closest confidant and the one person she couldn’t seem to shake off.

You had always been there, a constant in the whirlwind of her life, but recently, your presence felt charged with something more—something deeper. It was a warmth that both comforted and unsettled her.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, snapping her from her thoughts. A message from you glowed on the screen: I’m outside. Can we talk?

Her heart raced. Yeah, just a sec, she replied, quickly moving to let you in. You had a way of making her feel safe, even when the world around her was falling apart.

The door swung open, and you stepped inside, the cool evening air rushing in with you. “Hey,” you said softly, your gaze searching her face. “You okay?”

Tara nodded, forcing a smile despite the gnawing anxiety in her chest. “Yeah, just… a lot going on.”

You moved closer, your eyes darkening with concern. “I hate this for you. You don’t deserve any of it.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine,” she reassured, though your intensity made her heart race in a different way. The way you looked at her felt possessive, as if you were silently claiming her, and a shiver ran down her spine.

“Fine isn’t enough,” you murmured, stepping even closer. “I’d do anything to protect you, Tara. You mean everything to me.”

A flutter of something warm blossomed in her chest. “You don’t have to protect me,” she said, but even as she spoke, she felt the weight of your gaze on her, steady and unwavering.

“Maybe I want to,” you replied, your voice dropping to a low, husky whisper. “I’d die for you, Tara. You know that, right?”

Those words sent a rush of adrenaline through her. There was something intoxicating about the way you spoke, a raw honesty that both thrilled and terrified her. You took another step closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from your body.

“I don’t want anyone else to have you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your breath warm against her skin. “Not even for a second.”

Tara’s heart raced, caught in the tension between desire and fear. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“I mean,” you said, reaching out to cup her face with your hand, “I can’t bear the thought of someone taking you from me. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means keeping you close—really close.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against hers, and Tara’s breath hitched. The world outside melted away, and all that existed was the two of you, standing on the precipice of something beautiful and dangerous.

“Tara,” you murmured against her lips, “I need you to understand how serious I am. I’d do anything for you.”

“I believe you,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. “But this feels different…”

“It is different,” you said, stepping back slightly to search her eyes. “I’m not just your friend anymore. I want more. I need you to be mine, fully.”

Your intensity made her head spin, and in that moment, she realized how much she craved you—your affection, your protection, your everything. It was a hunger that ignited a fire within her, burning away the fear that had consumed her.

“I want that too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But what if—”

You cut her off, your fingers gently tilting her chin up so she could meet your gaze. “There are no ‘what ifs’ with us. It’s just you and me, against the world.”

With that, you closed the distance between you, capturing her lips with yours in a heated kiss. It was soft at first, but the passion quickly escalated, the kind of kiss that made the world outside fade away. Tara melted against you, surrendering to the warmth and intensity that radiated between you.

As you pulled away, your foreheads resting against each other, Tara felt the weight of your promise. “I’ll always be here,” you said, your voice low and steady. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

Tara smiled, a mix of happiness and uncertainty swirling in her chest. “I trust you.”

“I’m not just saying this,” you continued, your tone serious. “I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to protect what’s ours. No one gets to touch you. Not now, not ever.”

The possessiveness in your voice sent a thrill through her, mixing fear with desire. She loved the way you cared for her, the lengths you were willing to go, but it also made her acutely aware of the darkness lurking beneath the surface.

“Promise me,” you said, “that you’ll stay with me. No matter what happens, don’t let them take you from me.”

“I promise,” she whispered, feeling the truth of her words. In that moment, Tara knew there was no turning back. She wanted you just as fiercely, ready to face whatever came next.

Together, you stepped into the night, hand in hand, ready to embrace the chaos of the world outside. But with you by her side, Tara felt like she could conquer anything, and she knew that she would do the same for you—because, in the end, you would both die for each other.

———

[froggywritesstuff]

yandere Tara Carpenter x male reader

holiday promise | yandere!tara carpenter

ship/pairing: Yandere!Tara Carpenter x male!reader

fandom: Scream

warnings: yandere, kidnapping, chains, being gagged, delusional Tara, slight stockholm syndrome, unwanted touching (not sexual), not proofread

word count: 731

A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life. this is sort of christmas/holiday themed, so if you don't celebrate that kind of stuff, feel free to keep scrolling. I wrote this in like 20 minutes so apologies for the lack of good quality writing. no use of y/n

Tara wasn't an idiot. She knew when her sister was up to something. Especially when she roped her friends into it and they 'whispered' right outside Tara's room. She wasn't surprised though. Sam, Mindy and Chad had grown to be very protective of the people they cared about, especially when it came to Tara. So when Tara cried into her sister's arms over her missing boyfriend, she knew Sam would go overboard trying to help her.

Tara placed the last poster into her bag, and made her way to the door, preparing herself for the looks of pity she was bound to receive. As she opened the door, she rushed past her friends, noting their deer in the headlights looks as if they weren't expecting her to open the door so soon.

Sam quickly followed after her sister, "Tara, do you have a sec?" 

Tara sighed silently, setting her bag on the floor as she grabbed her shoes by the door, "Not really, I gotta go."

"Do you want some company?" Chad suggested, sounding a little too desperate and not at all like he, Mindy and Sam hadn't planned this.

Tara shook her head as she laced up her shoes, "No, not today."

"We're getting worried about you." Sam admitted, though it wasn't at all a secret to Tara.

Mindy nodded, "We know you wanna be alone, but you don't have to be. We're here for you. So if you wanna talk, or if you want some help putting up posters, you can come to us."

Tara stood up to her full height, slinging her bag strap around her shoulder and staring expressionlessly at the three, "I said I just wanna be alone."

With that, she was out the door. She went downstairs and outside the apartment building, being met with the cool wind outside. The sky was cloudy and grey, and the air smelled of rain. She briskly walked down the streets of New York, until she made her way down an alleyway. She looked around and behind her, checking no one was following her, before she reached into her pocket, pulled out some keys and entered an old, mostly abandoned building. Locking the door behind her, she walked further into the house, footsteps sounding against the stone floor, until she reached a locked door leading to a room. Unlocking the door with her keys again, she pushed open the door, smiling at the sight of you. You were curled up in the corner shivering, the chains around your wrists clattering together.

"Can I sit with you?"

You said nothing, which was mainly the result of a gag shoved in your mouth, but Tara took your wide-eyed fearful stare as a yes, and sat down beside you. She smiled, cuddling close to you and grabbing her bag, unzipping it and showing you it's contents.

"Since it's the holiday season, I thought I should get you some things." she pulled out a soft, fluffy blanket, wasting no time to wrap it around your shoulders. She knew you would need it, you were sitting on the stone ground all day, and the weather wasn't getting warmer any time soon. She pulled the gag out of your mouth, sending you into a coughing fit, and she grabbed some snacks, setting them on the ground in front of you. "Just because you're spending the holidays here, doesn't mean you can't celebrate with me."

As your coughs died down, you looked at her smiling face, and for the first time since Tara took you here, you felt a calm feeling. You never felt that when Tara was around. But maybe she did care? Maybe she did really love you, she just didn't know how to show it...

"Oh, I wanna show you something." you stared at the bag Tara was searching through, until she pulled out a poster that made your heart drop. At the top of the page was bold, black letters reading: MISSING. Underneath was your name, your picture, some other information about you, and Tara's phone number at the bottom. "How does this look?" she noticed your wide eyes and sensed your fear, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna let anyone find you, these are just so no one gets suspicious." she smiled at you, lifting her hand to your cheek, "I'm never gonna let anyone take you from me. That's a promise."

[roses-r-rosie3]

I was thinking a dom chad x sub reader.

Maybe there at that party and chad pulls the reader into a bedroom after getting a little jealous of reader getting flirted with?

Attention

Chad Meeks x M!Reader

Warnings: smut, swearing, and jealousy

Quote: “Flirting with someone else in front of me? I’ll show you, that you’re mine, and only mine”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chad had a huge crush on you and everyone knew it, well except for you. That’s one of the main reasons why Chad invited you to the party. When Chad invited you, you were so excited mainly because you hadn’t went out lately. You texted Chad and Mindy beforehand that he would be late to the party.

“So… are you going to tell him that you like him yet? Or are you going to tell him ‘later’ ” Mindy teased.

“Shut up Mindy! I’ll tell him when I think the time is right!” Chad exclaimed.

A little later you arrived to the party and Chad couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Chad thought you were the most handsome person out of anyone in the party. You caught Chad staring at you and decided to wave. Chad snapped out of his trance to wave back at you. You smiled at him before walking into the kitchen area to get a drink and he followed.

“Hey” A random guy said as he approached you.

“Hi” you smiled.

“What’s you’re name?” The guy said.

“Y/n, and yours?” You said.

“Well hello y/n, I’m Chase, so do you have a boyfriend?”

“No I don’t, why? Do you want to ask me out on a date or something” you chuckled.

“Maybe” Chase said flirtatiously.

Chad watched the whole thing go down and couldn’t help but be jealous. Why was he feeling that way? He wasn’t even dating you. Chad couldn’t take it any longer and had to intervene.

“Hey, uh, sorry, but y/n has somewhere to be” Chad mumbled.

“I do?” You questioned.

Chad decided to take you to a bedroom and lock the door.

“Chad what the fuck was that!” You exclaimed.

Chad just pulled you in for a kiss. You decided to kiss back as you were pushed into the bed. Chad started to take both of your shirts off before attacking your neck with kisses. Chad started to unbuckle his pants and boxers. He got on top of you and started to align his cock into your mouth.

Chad groaned as he fucked your mouth. The only noises that could be heard in the room were your gags and Chad’s groans. Chad pulled y/n off his dick as he started to pull your pants and boxers down. You began to moan as Chad slowly inserted a finger inside of you.

“ You better get used to this quickly, i’m not planning to go slow” Chad whispered in your ear as he continued adding more fingers inside of you to stretch you out.

After Chad was done stretching you out he slung your legs over his shoulders as he began to align his cock inside of your hole. You started to whine as Chad inserted his dick inside of you. Chad started at a slow pace as you got used to the feeling of him inside of you. Chad picked up his pace, hitting your prostate as you held onto the bedsheets for dear life.

“Flirting with someone else in front of me? I’ll show you, that you’re mine, and only mine” Chad said as he thrusted into you relentlessly.

“A-ah! I-I’m cl-close” you whined.

That was Chad’s motivation to go faster, making you moan louder as you were reaching your climax. Shortly after you came with a loud groan, spraying your cum all over both you and Chad’s chest’s. As you came, Chad felt you tighten around his cock and he thrusted one last time before releasing all that he had into you. When Chad pulled out, he saw his cum spewing out of your hole.

“So… do this mean that we are a thing now… or was this just a hookup” you panted.

“It can be whatever you want it to be” Chad smiled.

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N kisses Tara’s knuckles…

Tara: stay

Y/N: I want your sister to like me. And also you know the rules of horror movies.

Tara: Quinn brings home dudes all the time

Y/N: well she’ll be the first to die. But us…we’re gonna be together forever

Y/N kisses her head and tucks Tara in…

[gatorbites-imagines]

Chad is so babygirl🥰🥰🥰 Just imagine growing up with him being best bros and when we both grow older we share one brain cell together. THE OP HIMBO DUO

Chad Martin-Meeks x male reader

Headcanons

I love Chad, so much. There’s also spoilers for Scream 6 in this, if you guys don’t want those. I might also have added some Ethan stuff in this, I couldn’t help myself.

You were related to the Riley family, most likely Dewey’s son or something along those lines, the result of a one-night stand, or Gale and Dewey having you together but splitting apart again afterwards.

You were raised by your dad, but because of his worsening mental state you spent a lot of time with the Meeks family. Your dad was both overprotective because of losing his sister and so many other people, but also because Gale mostly just ignored your existence, so he wanted to be a good parent.

You never blamed your dad because you knew he did his best, but it did lead to you hanging out with Chad and Mindy most of the time at their house. Dewey was happy that you had a support system and could be young and free, so he never had anything against it.

Out of the siblings you got along with Chad the most, even as kids the two of you were connected at the hip even more than he was with Mindy. Out of your group there was a braincell sure, but it was Mindy who had it for the most part.

You both developed feelings for each other, and of course Mindy would tease the both of you to the moon and back. Tara isn’t any help either as they keep making jokes and jabs at both you and Chad, though they never out the others crush because they’re not that mean.

When you two finally start dating no one is surprised, and of course your dad gives Chad the shovel talk, maybe even as he’s cleaning his guns. He knows Chad is a good guy, but its his duty as your dad to step in and set the record straight.

When the killings of Scream 5 happen you two end up getting hurt together, whilst trying to protect one another. You both end up surviving much to everyone’s joy, but it also results in you losing your dad and seeing your mom for the first time in years.

Since your over 18 you don’t go anywhere with your mom even though Gale tries to convince you to go with her, which leads to a big argument, and she has to be removed from the hospital since you’re still recovering.

You end up moving to college with Chad, and end up rooming with him and Ethan when everything is over. Gale still tries to contact with you and bond with you, though you think its too late for her to play any parental role in your life. Plus, you don’t trust her as you assume she’s just getting close to get information for her books.

You end up bonding more with Ethan than Chad does, that doesn’t mean you and Chad aren’t still connected at the hip, but you take interest in Ethan and what he’s into, even though you have little understanding of anything he does.

You and Chad both try to play wingmen for Ethan, and your status as the hot gay couple gives you some ins you didn’t have in the past, so your most likely able to end up setting Ethan up with a couple of girls, though it never goes very far.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Ethan gets a little flustered rooming with two hot guys, who have no problem making out in your guy’s shared kitchen or walking around in just a pair of shorts, he’s walking in on you and Chad more time than he can count.

Sure, he’s only rooming with you guys to get revenge for Richie, but why stop himself from looking when you two himbos are busy grinding on the couch to notice he’s there. You and Chad both go to Ethan for homework help too, because he’s so smart and Mindy still has the braincell.

Ethan’s found himself stuck between you and Chad on the couch multiple times during your “bro nights” with you two asleep against him. In the beginning it was just you and Chad, but then you pulled Ethan into it too since he was your roommate.

When everything with Scream 6 happens Chad still gets stabbed and you think you’ve lost him, and instead of Tara killing Ethan its you, as revenge for him using your friendship and killing your lover.

When it turns out Chad survived you rush into the ambulance with Mindy and your boyfriend is given help, with you holding and kissing his hand the entire ride there. After all of this you guys joke that you should transfer to another college, or stop being such horror movie tropes.

After you’ve all healed you and Chad decide it take it a bit more chill than you have before, not going to parties like you guys did in the past and just hanging out with your friends and family.

It results in you and Chad spending a lot of nights just cuddled up together, holding one another and just enjoying the others presence. You two just lay together and maybe run your hands over the others scars, just thankful the other is alive after everything.

You end up spending some more time with your mom, though you never get close because you still don’t think you can trust her, especially with the stuff she said about Sam in her book.

You end up taking after your dad as well, investing in some guns though not to the same level, and when your mental state starts spiraling your friends and lover are there you pull you out of it.

[themarvelousknight27]

Y/N: Oh come on Tara I don’t drool over

Sam.

Tara: you literally just ask her to Stab

you

Y/N : ….

Y/N: no comment

Sam walks in and hugged y/n waist

Y/N: uh… hi

Sam: so you want me to stab you but I better option

Sam whispered in Y/N ears

Y/N: really That’s um surprising

Sam walking away winking

Y/N: *staring in Awe*

Tara: ….

[alexmeeksmartin]

chosen family - pt i

pairing(s): wes hicks x male reader, slight chad meeks-martin x male reader

synopsis: the one where y/n roberts, survivor of the 2011 woodsboro massacre and brother of ghostface killer, jill roberts, is roped into another string of murders when his friend, tara carpenter, is attacked by someone taking on the moniker

a/n: new series! not sure if i’ll end up finishing this, but i would like to at least do a couple parts! hope u enjoy <3

wc: 1.9k

it was more than enough to struggle with the fact that your sister, jill roberts, had decided to stab you alongside your mother when you were only eight years old. ironically enough, your fame-hungry sister’s sickening plot to become a sole survivor is what thrust you into the limelight. for years, the media hounded you about the ghostface killings of 2011. it took you forever to get a group of friends who wouldn’t try abuse your connections. you were finally in a stable position…

…but now some fucker had decided to put on that damned mask and go stabbing again.

“that was sam.” your boyfriend, wes, let everyone know. you were all together, minus tara, obviously. you, wes, chad, mindy, amber, and liv. and nobody was taking this seriously, not even you at this stage. none of you had really processed it all properly yet.

you watched as amber’s interest was immediately piqued. “she’s coming?”

“yeah.”

“watch everything get worse.” amber says with a sigh, clearly unhappy about sam’s upcoming return to woodsboro.

“listen, all i’m saying is, with everything going on right now, i think it’s time we take our relationship to the next, most intimate level!” chad pleads with liv, doing his best to convince her.

“yuck.” you add across from the happy couple.

“it’s fine, y/n. he only wants me to accept his ‘find my fam’ request.” liv explains to you, removing the expression of disgust from of your face.

“it’s the smartest option with a would-be killer on the loose. you know exactly where i am and i know exactly where you are.” chad continues, building up his case.

“aw, you can stalk me like a jealous boyfriend.” liv giggles.

“and you can stalk me like a jealous boyfriend.” chad jokes as you and mindy make eye contact, signalling to each other your repulsion towards chad and liv at that moment in time with just one look of your eyes. it’s funny how much two best friends can say in just a glance.

“is this because you two aren’t having sex yet?” amber bluntly asks, looking between the two of them.

“you actually bring up a very good point! not that i want to sound like a stereotypical jock, trying to get into his girlfriend’s pants-“

“great!” liv says, stopping chad.

“come on, wes, you get what i mean?” chad asks, trying unsuccessfully to get some back up, but you shoot wes a death stare, making him think carefully about his next words.

“absolutely not. i wouldn’t dare.” wes begins, clarifying that he doesn’t agree with chad to you before moving onto liv, “don’t do it, liv, there’s some pyscho out there. you make yourself harder to find. delete social media, tape over your phone camera, disable gps-“

“yes, thank you very much, edward snowden.” chad says, cutting wes off. “actually, your mother just interrogated me about tara’s attempted murder.”

“i’m sure she’s asking everybody, i mean, ghostface is back.” wes responds. a chill goes down your spine at the very mention of the masked murderer.

“she hasn’t asked me.” you chuck into conversation, noticing how the sheriff hadn’t even seemed to have looked your way yet.

“yeah, because you’re like sheriff riley’s adoptive son. plus, you and her went through the same thing.” liv says.

“ex sheriff riley.” mindy adds, “also, the press still isn’t saying ghostface.” and another chill.

“my mom doesn’t want to cause a panic.” wes explains.

“it’ll get out by the second or third killing.” mindy says, nonchalantly.

“mindy, come on.” you say. you loved her, but her insensitivity could be an issue on occasion.

“jesus, mindy, there wasn’t a first killing. tara’s still alive.” amber says, slightly angry.

“that means she could still die.”

“what the fuck?” amber is progressively getting more and more agitated at this conversation, you note.

“or the killer could come back for her.”

“fuck, mindy!” chad says as you screw your face up, “come on.”

“i’m just telling you, arm up, okay? pepper spray, check, taser, check-“ wes lists off his weapons.

“y/n in the bedroom repellent, check.” amber cuts in, laughing at him.

“again, ew.” you say, turning away from amber to wes, “i’m glad you’re keeping yourself safe.” you smile at your boyfriend.

“keeping us safe.” he says, pulling you into his arms.

“oh, shit, is that… vince?” liv asks.

“wait. that creep you hooked up with last summer?” chad asks liv, concern immediately showing on his face.

“yeah, he worked with me and tara.”

“he worked with tara?” amber asks inquisitively.

“he’s been stalking my instagram the last couple weeks, posting the creepiest shit.” liv adds.

“probably time to introduce him to hobbs and shaw.” chad says, flexing his biceps.

liv puts his arm down to his side. “maybe not the best idea to incite violence right in front of the sheriff. looks like he’s leaving.”

“plus, i don’t think ‘hobbs and shaw’ are scaring anyone with names like that.” you say, laughing at chad.

“oh, please. you’d love to take hobbs and shaw for a spin.” chad retorts, smiling back at you.

“tara says she fought back hard. you’ve got bruises.” amber states, observing chad’s somewhat battered and blue arms.

“from football practice.” he says, defending himself.

“oh, sure-“

“tara’s awake! she just texted.” wes says, his face lighting up. “i’m going to the hospital, you guys coming?”

mutters of ‘yes’ and ‘sure’ are said by your friends, but what stands out is liv saying: “i can’t, but i’ll meet you guys later.” another thing to take mental note of.

“alright, i’ll see you later.” chad says, kissing liv on the cheek goodbye. you wait up for chad as wes, mindy, and amber walk on ahead and descend into playful conversation him.

you were all gathered in tara’s room at the hospital, with wes’ arm draped around your neck as you sit on the chair right beside tara’s bed. amber stands over you with a very concerned look on her face as the twins make small talk on the other side of the room.

the door opens, and everyone looks to it. sam. sam and- who?

“you came.” tara says with a small smile.

“of course i came.” sam says, giving her sister a very gentle and light hug. “this is my boyfriend, richie.”

that explains who the random guy is.

“it’s so nice to meet you, i’m so sorry if i’m intruding.” richie says to tara.

“nice to meet you too.”

“hi. thank you for calling.” sam says, giving wes a hug.

“of course.”

“look at your hair! i like it.” sam compliments, ruffling your boyfriend’s hair like she’s his mother.

you get up and embrace sam. god, you’d missed her. even though she had her own shit going on, she never failed to be the big sister you wish you had - a loving, protective figure. not jill.

“these are chad and mindy, the twins, wes, and y/n. i used to babysit them all.”

“which is always how i like to be introduced.” wes says, to which you let out a slight laugh.

“and amber.” sam finishes her introductions, locking eyes with the dark haired girl. “hey.”

“hi.” you can feel the tension radiating between them. they do not like each other at all. “nice to see you.”

“hi, um, i’m richie.” richie says, amber looking him up and down. you weren’t too sure if you liked the guy either, seemed a bit fidgety. maybe just nerves, with ghostface going around and all.

“hi.” amber says.

“where’s mom?” sam asks tara, a worried expression crossing her face.

“she’s stuck in a conference in london. she called me earlier.”

“yeah, for all of ten minutes.” amber adds with a judgemental tone to her words.

you look over at tara, who looks tired out of her mind, probably from the painkillers. as someone who had been in a similar position, you knew that it’d be best to make an exit right about now. not only that, the reality of the situation was starting to kick in now. how were you all going to navigate this and stay safe?

“guys, maybe we should give tara a little space. getting a bit crowded in here.” you say, concerned for tara.

your friends respond with a chorus of ‘yeah’s, and you all begin to head for the door.

“not you, sam. i want you to stay.”

“okay.” sam says, sweetly smiling at her sister before sitting herself back down.

“but the rest-“ chad says, looking back to you, mindy, and wes affirming that you guys should go.

you all walk outside of the hospital, and it’s really starting to hit you now. this couldn’t be happening again. you couldn’t lose anyone else to some stupid fucking legacy. to ghostface. you lost your mother, your aunt, and even your sister - all because a pair of stupid, deranged, psychopathic men picked up some halloween mask in 1996. it wasn’t fair.

you start to walk slightly ahead of the group, with none of their conversation registering in your mind. tears start to form in your eyes as you hear them calling out your name. this isn’t fair. you don’t deserve this. tara doesn’t deserve this. nobody deserves this.

you’re brought out of your trance when you feel mindy’s hand touch your shoulder as she walks in front of you.

“hey, you good?” she asks, but sees the tears in your eyes. you shake your head, and she turns to the boys and amber. “we’ll just see you guys at the bar later, okay?”

“you sure? i can stay.” wes says, but you turn around to speak to them.

“no, it’s fine. i’m fine. i’ll see you guys later.” you say, putting on your bravest face and best smile for them. you can tell they’re not quite buying it, but they know mindy’s got you so they keep walking. you see chad turn back multiple times to check on you again, and can tell amber and wes are already bickering again by the time they get in the car.

when they’re gone, it’s just you and mindy sitting against a tree.

“mindy, i don’t think i can do this again.” you say, sighing.

“it’s fine. we’ve got you. me, wes, chad, amber, and i guess liv have got your’s and tara’s backs. we’re here for whatever you need. especially me. you’re my best friend, y/n. nothing is more important to me than your well-being. got it?”

“i love you, minds. you’re the best.”

“i love you too, y/n. and remember, we understand if you need space, support, anything right now. sam’s got tara, and we’ve got you. okay?”

“thanks.” you say, a real smile making its way onto your face.

“anyways, i need to go show chad that i still am the king of eight ball. you coming?” mindy says, getting up and sticking her hand out to you.

“i wouldn’t dare to miss chad getting his ass handed to him.” you laugh, letting mindy pull you up as you head to the car.

maybe it wasn’t so bad. it was cheesy, but maybe with your friends by your side you’d get through this again. maybe.

a/n: hope you all enjoyed! have a couple parts already in the drafts for this so shouldn’t be too long till the next is posted !! thanks for reading 🫶

[gothamslostboy]

Wes hicks and his bf at a party, bf feels anxious because of social anxiety, wes comforts him and helps him have a good time

A/N: this request is literally from May idk if you’re still hanging around my blog but I’m so sorry anon🫶 hope this is good enough to outweigh how long you had to wait

Safe Against The Sounds

wes hicks x male reader

WORDS: 564

READER WES CHAD

————————————————————————

Hey babe, you ok? The feeling of Wes’s hand wrapping around mine helps bring me back down to Earth, my eyes taking a blurry focus on him. It’s a couple seconds before I process what he said, the thudding of my heart blocking out parts of his voice. Yeah, I’m ok. Just, I’m just zoning out. Wes listens to my wobbly voice as he tilts his head & squeezes my hand. His lips curve down as his eyes pass over my hands, beer splashing against the cup I’m gripping.

Wes keeps his gaze there before moving towards the sliding glass door to our left. Our fingers are still intertwined as a cool breeze hits my body, helping my sweaty hands start to return to normal. He guides me to a secluded corner of Amber’s backyard, walking past the beer pong table where Chad is scolding Mindy’s less than great aim. I take a deep breath and release the tension in my shoulders I didn’t know I was holding when it’s just me and Wes, away from the thudding music and loud voices flooding the home. Wait right here Y/N, I’m gonna grab you a water.

He’s already jogging towards the house as I nod and close my eyes. I open my eyes when his footsteps on the grass let me know Wes is back, brows furrowed as he reads something on his phone. Um ok, he nods while slipping his phone into his back pocket, let’s find 5 things you can see right now. He sets the water bottle down on the grass and rubs my shoulders gently. I move my hand in the direction of each thing I list off. The grass, you, the house, a bird, and the water bottle. My words are more stable then before and he smiles, doing the slightest fist pump before moving on. Great job Y/N! The next one is 4 things you can touch. Uh, I try to think of everything I feel and open my mouth again. The breeze, my clothes, your hands and…. It’s ok if you can’t think of the fourth one, let’s move on to 3 things you can hear. I smile and lean against Wes looking back at him.

It’s ok Wes, I think I’m better now. It’s true, my vision is finally clear and my body is calm, no longer sweaty or strung so tightly I can’t breathe. He kisses my forehead and we stay quiet for a second, enjoying each other’s company. He pulls away and twists the cap off the water, leaning it towards me. You sure? Yeah, there’s just so many people inside haha. Do you want me to take you home? We can watch some movies and I’ll make some popcorn, he gives me another small smile and waits for me to finish taking a sip of water. You’re too sweet Wes, I lightly squeeze his face in my hand and he leans into my palm. We can stay, I just needed a minute. Our conversation is interrupted by Chad yelling across the lawn, Yo! My boys! I need a new partner, Mindy sucks at this; Me and Wes vs Y/N and Mindy? I look at Wes and laugh, shaking my head as we walk over. We both know how terrible his aim is, and can’t wait to see Chad’s face when they lose.

————————————————————————

TAGS: @g4ywastaken

if you want to be tagged in any of my other posts, let me know and I’ll add you to the list! You can choose to only be added for certain fandoms or only for male or gender neutral readers if you’d like :] once again sorry to the anon who requested this so long ago

[happypeaceperson]

Hi just wanted to say how incredible your writing is and how you’re definitely feeding the male scream lovers. I always look forward to when you post, It is such a delight to read your work and never fails to make me smile. You’re so talented and I hope you continue to keep writing and inspire others. Hope you’re having a great day 😊

OMG TYSM?!? This is one of the nicest things someone has said to me😭 I've only been posting for a few days and I cannot tell you all how much i love every single one of you. Im so happy I can share my intrests with other people and have them enjoy it. I was so scared to start posting my fics on here incase people didn't like how i wrote. I cannot explain how much I love the scream community on here. You all have been so welcoming. I love you all so much, and i love being one of yalls male scream lovers fic supplier lol. I hope you all have an amazing day/night <3

[froggywritesstuff]

Yandere Tara Carpenter x Male Reader?

protective | yandere!tara carpenter

Pairing: Yandere!Tara Carpenter x male!reader 

Warnings: possessiveness, drugging, use of chloroform, kidnapping, gaslighting, being tied up, swearing, Tara has anger issues, pet names (goodboy, babe)

Fandom: Scream

Word Count: 1317

A/N: so sorry for how long this took, hope you enjoy and happy spooky season. fem readers DNI. i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

Tara was protective. She always thought she had to be, especially after her encounters with multiple murderers trying to kill her. Lately she had been projecting her protective ways onto you. At first it was sweet. She cared about you so much she just wanted to keep you safe. But soon she began taking it too far. She'd never let you leave your shared apartment on your own, and if she did, she'd demand to know where you were going and how long you'd be, and she'd be constantly texting you while you were out to check on you. You knew she had good intentions, but it was starting to make you uncomfortable. And whenever you confronted her about it, she’d immediately deny it and act like she’d done nothing wrong.

”Tara, I just wanna go out on my own.”

”Babe, you go out on your own all the time, I get so lonely.”

”That’s not true. And when you do let me out on my own, you still never leave me alone.” You hated arguing with Tara, but you couldn’t let her behaviour go on for any longer.

“Sorry, are you getting mad that I check up on you to make sure you’re ok?” she glared at you and you had to hold back a sigh of frustration.

”No, I’m getting mad that you can’t leave me alone for one second. Tara, I love you, and I know you’re just protective, but you can ease back a bit in protecting me. I promise.”

You watched her expression go from angered, confused, thinking, then to understanding (at least you thought she was understanding).

She nodded, a sigh slipping from her lips, "You're right. I am over protective of you. I can't control you, and I'm sorry I thought I could."

A shocked expression covered your face, "Oh."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just didn't think you'd take this so well."

Tara laughed slightly, "Come on babe, give me some credit."

Her smile was contagious, "You're right, I'm sorry."

She took your hand in hers, "Can I walk you outside?" you nodded with a wide smile, proud of how she was willing to fix her behaviour. You two walked out the apartment door, before she stopped you, “Phone?”

”Huh?”

She laughed softly, “You’re really gonna leave without your phone.”

You laughed in understanding, “One sec, I’ll go grab it.”

You walked to your room where you know you left it, squinting in confusion as it was nowhere to be found. You went back to Tara, about to ask if she knew where it would be, but she was also nowhere to be found.

”Tara?” you called, receiving no response other than the silence. You went to turn and look for her, when a damp cloth covered your mouth and nose, making your stomach drop with fear.

You struggled against their firm grip against your chest, feeling your vision grow blurry, and sounds going muffled. It didn’t take long before your eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and you eventually collapsed to the floor.

———

Your eyes flutter open, confused as you look around you, finding yourself in your bedroom. The last thing you remember is that you were meant to be going out, without Tara. Now you were in your room. Something was very wrong. You go to readjust your position on the bed, heart skipping a beat when you feel ropes around your wrist binding you to the bed frame. You struggle against them, a sharp pain sends up your arms as the rope digs into your skin, causing your head to pound. You look up with a startle as you hear the door open, squinting in confusion as Tara enters the room. She looks distraught, as if she was the one tied to the bed frame.

She walks closer to you, offering a strained smile as she sits on the edge of the bed. 

“How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts.” You stare at her, eyeing her cautiously. “Tara, why am I tied up?”

She stares coldly, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m keeping you safe.”

”Tara please.” You beg, your voice barely louder than a whisper as you stared at her with glossy eyes. 

”Y/N, you can’t protect yourself. I was so fucking sick of having to explain it to you just for you to ignore me. I was trying to help you and keep you safe. I didn’t want to risk something happening to you. So now, I can permanently keep you safe.” She speaks, and you notice her eyes avoiding looking at yours.

”Please let me go. You can’t keep me locked up here, Tara.” You beg and plead with teary eyes, praying to whatever god that she’ll take pity on you and untie you. Your heart pumps quickly with fear as you lose hope every second that you’ll make it out of this room alive.

“I can’t let you go. I-I’m doing this for your own good, why don’t you understand that?” She yells, voice cracking with the last sentence. You can’t shake the feeling that she’s trying to convince herself. Convince herself that it’s not her fault, and that she’s not in the wrong. But whether or not she feels guilty for kidnapping you is the least of your worries. 

“Tara-"

"Just stop being so fucking difficult!" she shouts, her voice hitting your ears like daggers. You flinch back, doing your best to steady your breathing. You both stay silent, the only sound being your small, shaky breaths.

Seeing your fearful state, Tara sighs, standing up from the bed and leaving without a word, taking deep breaths as she does.

You're left alone on the bed, millions of thoughts rushing through your mind, making it impossible to focus on a singular thought. You attempt to make some sense of the situation, Tara's words replaying on repeat through your mind, but nothing makes sense. You knew she was extra protective ever since the murders, but you can't even fathom the thought of Tara doing something like this. Even though you're living proof that she has.

You rustle the ropes again, seeing if they'll loosen up, but to no avail. You're left with sore arms and a returning headache. You shut your eyes, steadying your breathing again, and you don't even notice Tara walking in, until you feel the weight shift on the spot beside you.

"You said your head hurts?" she's holding a glass of water and a plate with a sandwich. She holds the glass of water up to your lips, "Drink it." she instructs. Your headache grows less painful as the cool water slides down your throat. Without realising, you drink the entire glass, only noticing once Tara takes the glass away from you and sets it on the bedside table. Her dark eyes shift back to you, and for a moment you almost forget how afraid of her you are.

"I'm sorry if I scared you before." she begins, bringing the sandwich to your mouth and feeding it to you, "I shouldn't have yelled at you, I was just frustrated." she pauses, before putting the sandwich back on the plate and placing it next to the empty glass, "But you need to understand that I'm not going to let you go." Her expression and voice holds no emotion, making the moment even more unnerving, "I'm keeping you here because I love you.  I'm doing this for you. So if you don't want me to yell at you, you need to do as you're told and listen to me when I tell you you can't leave."

You stare at her, her words doing nothing to comfort you.

"Do you understand?"

You just nod your head, not wanting to even think about what she'd do if you upset her again.

She smiles at you, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "Good boy."

[roses-r-rosie3]

Birthday Boy

Chad Meeks x M!Reader

[Ethan Version]

Warnings: Smut, nsfw, riding, and cursing

A/n: Wow I'm actually surprised i got this done right on my birthday💀

Quote: "You enjoying yourself birthday boy?"

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Of all days that you had to go to work, it just had to be on your birthday. And on top of that Chad told you that he was really busy for your birthday, so he couldn't be there for your birthday.When you were finally done with your shift, you went straight to your house. After a long day of stress, you were ready to just go home and go to sleep until the day was over, even though it was only 3 in the afternoon.

But when you opened your door you were met with your lights off and candles and rose petals being everywhere. You noticed that the rose petals lead somewhere, and you followed the trail. The petals lead you to your closed bedroom door that you shared with Chad. You opened the door to see Chad only in his white boxers, on your shared bed. It warmed your heart that Chad would do all this for you.

"Chad, you didn't really do all of this for me. I thought you were busy" you smiled.

"Well I kind of lied, but it was definitely worth it" Chad said before pulling you in for a kiss.

"This is the best birthday present" you beamed.

"Well, I also have another present for you" Chad grinned as he unbuckled your belt.

"And what might that be?" you smirked as you pulled your shirt off.

"Lay down on that bed and find out" Chad smugly said.

"Yes sir" you smirked.

Before you knew it, both you and Chad were naked, with you on top of him, kissing him passionately.

"Prepped myself earlier" Chad smiled as you were teasing his hole with your tip.

You were just about to put your cock inside of Chad, until he suddenly flipped you over.

"Ah, Ah, ah, Birthday boy, you don't have to do any work, just sit back and relax" Chad smirked as he gripped your cock, and aligned it up with his entrance.

You gripped on Chad's waist as he began to bounce on your cock. God, your cock felt so good inside of him. Chad started to bounce faster as he leaned into your neck and gave you little kisses.

"You enjoying yourself birthday boy?" Chad said with a simper.

"F-fuck y-yes" You grunted as Chad fucked himself with your cock.

Chad began to jerk himself off as he rode you. The sight was so beautiful. The way sweat coated both Chad and your chest, and the way Chad's face looked when you hit Chad's prostate.

"I-I'm close y/n" Chad groaned.

You took the chance to fuck yourself deeper into Chad as both you and him chased your orgasms.

"SHIT!" Chad moaned as he squirted all over you.

As Chad came, you felt his walls tighten around you. Curses and grunts left your mouth as you painted his velvet walls white with your cum. Both of you were a moaning mess as you both rode down from your highs.

"Is the birthday boy happy with his gift" Chad laughed.

"Not quite yet" You smirked as you flipped your positions once again and started pounding into him relentlessly.

Let's just say that, Chad had a noticeable limp the next day, and your neighbors were not really happy with you and Chad.

[fandomnerd9602]

Amber Freeman x Reader x Tara Carpenter?

Amber: first Stab was the best!

Tara: I still have a soft spot for number 5.

Y/N: can we all agree Stab 8 was the worse?

Amber: baby, you are so right!

Tara and Amber hug Y/N from both sides...

Tara: wanna do a three way make out session while watching the Babadook?

Amber: that sounds so hot.

Y/N: Tara, baby, you know us too well.

[lovieku]

TRUE LOVE ⋆ 정국

when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

⋆⁺₊❅. 5/6 from christmas & chill

pairing tattoo artist!jk x fem reader

genre fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l

warnings jk 24 | oc 24, jk thinks he’s too cool for love, oc suffers from a chronic case of “i can fix him”, she eventually does, oc simps HARDDD and jk only pretends to be unaffected, yea he’s a bit of a dick sometimes but he’s also Very funny, brief description of panic attacks, male masturbation, kissing, idk what else to add i just rly rly love them and will think of them for the entirety of xmas season

word count 10.2k

author’s note hi lovies 🩷 it’s my last time with c&c 🙁 i’m kinda emotional omg… it’s been such a fun, warm and lovely week, and i love each one of you for showing endless support to this project <33 i’ll keep trying to not disappoint… please tell me if you like this!!! thank u always and always 🩷 luv u <3

banner by the gorgeous @awrkive ⊹₊⟡⋆

On the first day of December, your path crosses with thee Jeon Jeongguk’s after enough years for your brain to trip slightly before recognising him. But it would have been impossible not to—there’s likely a whole, well-preserved section of your thinking organ dedicated to that mortifying phase of high school, when your hormones turned life into an endless internal tug-of-war.

The moment your eyes widen at having him stand in front of you, you’re yanked unceremoniously into the past, brought back to buried, locked and left to gather dust feelings that have your teenage self’s screams echoing within you in a chorus of delight and cringe.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is simply following his duties as a tattoo artist. When he catches sight of you next to his appointed client on such a breezy day, the cold December air starting to find its space even in the confines of his studio, he only nods his chin upward at you in slow recognition.

It’s awkward, at first. Only because you make it.

You’d volunteered to accompany Eunbi, your best friend, to get her first tattoo as an early Christmas self-gift. Your mission was clear: support her, hold her hand if the pain became unbearable (though you’re probably the least dependable person when it comes to making clarity in situations of panic, as seen right now), and be the first to bask in her excitement as she finally sees what she’s always pictured to be inked on the skin of her forearm. A blue whale tattoo, large enough to make you wince just thinking about the needlework.

You’d never go through something like that. Never.

And that’s exactly what’s showing on your face when you’re met with Jeongguk’s full sleeve of tattoos, leaving you rooted to the spot.

You’d always known him to be the different kid, the quiet one with forced sharp eyes that canonically listened to alternative rock and glared at anyone who dared approach, whether to tease him or befriend him. He’d convinced himself that no one could ever understand him.

See, you’d instead fooled yourself into thinking you were the exception. That you did understand him.

Fourteen-year-old you had gone through some weird phases, and the one that resurfaces now at the vision of his adult self is the one centered entirely around him. You unashamedly had the biggest crush on Jeongguk. To you, he was mysterious and edgy—in an effortlessly cool way.

You’d tried everything. Offered him your lunch more times than you were left with any for yourself. Even cut your bangs to have them fall over your eyes to mimic his fringe, dyed a strand in blue, overhauled your wardrobe to align with his back-and-grey one. None of it worked. He never noticed.

But, thinking of it now, there’s no way he didn't. He definitely did. How could any boy turn a blind eye to a lovesick girl’s heartfelt Valentine’s letter, a hopeless romantic girl who almost cried on the spot when she got rejected? Jeongguk just chose to willingly ignore it.

These are all valid reasons as to why your functions seem to slow down in his unexpected presence. And you’re not going to deny nor fake that his calm, almost detached demeanor doesn’t flow through your body and right to your left eye, making it twitch with a slight tremor.

Yet, you must also admit that your teenage self was onto something. Jeongguk has changed drastically but he’s also stayed the same. You think fourteen-year-old him would be proud of where he is right now. Two piercings on his lower lip and one on his eyebrow, intricate ink tracing up his muscled arm, his… muscled arms. Wow. And then, his studio. His own studio, a place for him and his passion, one that he made into his job. That’s undeniably cool.

Maybe just not cool enough for you to be gaping like an idiot as he moves with purpose, adjusting your friend’s arm to position the stencil he had prepared, perfectly fitting in the space she had chosen. His muscles flex with every shift, and it’s impossible for you to go past that with the way the black beater he’s wearing is loose on his torso, but still clinging on his chest.

Eunbi notices, of course. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed and in return she doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when your usual chatter dries up entirely, only gulping obnoxiously noisily and alternating that with nervous silences. Jeongguk, too, catches on.

He’d always known you as obnoxious and noisy. In, huh, a good way. Or whatever.

Jeongguk just agrees that you were (and probably still are, if the pastel yellow skirt softly flowing down your legs paired with a cozy cream sweater and the full toothed grin you shoot at your friend are any indicators) the pinpoint embodiment of his opposite. You’ve always been talkative, smiley, and friendly, eager to help and to receive help, not in the slightest ever turning down the opportunity to blabber on, and on, and on.

Honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t think he ever truly listened to a single word of your rambling back in the day, especially during those times when you’d bounce up to him and launch into enthusiastic rants about obscure alternative bands he himself hadn’t even heard of. He respected the hustle, though. He’d always wondered where you found the time and energy to immerse yourself in music like that.

He much preferred when you were less trying so hard to be him and mirror his tastes, more when you gave up on impressing him and simply stayed true to yourself, the girl whose heart belonged to Justin Bieber and One Direction. Truthfully, he fucked with them. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. His quiet, brooding image wouldn’t survive that revelation.

What he respected the most was your resilience. After all the times he rejected you and your awkward blurts of confessions, you still didn’t think it was enough of a reason for your villain origin story to take off, and instead remained the same frustratingly positive ray of sunshine you’d always been.

Now, as Jeongguk works on the tattoo in front of him, the very design that caused all these long-buried memories to rise back, his dark eyes flick toward you sitting on a stool in a near corner every now and then, a hint of confusion in his expression each time you take more than five seconds to reply to his small talk.

It’s just, you’re a bit taken aback. Since when does he do small talk? The foreign smoothness with which Jeongguk handles interactions is so far removed from the sullen boy you used to know. You’re not prepared for this version of him. It’s disarming, to say the least.

Enough time has passed for you to settle into the odd scenario, your current best friend and your long-standing high school crush in the same room. Slowly but surely, your curiosity sparkles again, and the signature tendency to let thoughts tumble out of your mouth unchecked returns to you naturally.

“Ouch, that looks painful.”

Jeongguk snorts, eyes trained on Eunbi’s arm as he glides the tattoo needle with precise strokes that have his brows pinching and the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips, a habit you remember from the past but one you’ve never found quite so distracting before.

Still, he multitasks and responds without missing a beat, “Wanna try?”

Wow. This is, like, the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him. It spurs you on to do anything it takes to hear more of his voice, the sound of it definitely deeper than the shy tones you struggled to coax out of him ten years ago.

That is probably why you literally lie, “Hm. Maybe. I was thinking of getting one actually. In the future.”

Eunbi chokes on her spit, her chest coughing with the sudden, blatantly fake revelation, and Jeongguk promptly pauses, lifting the needle from her skin as his tattooist reflexes kick in. While your friend apologizes between a clearing of her throat and sinks back into the chair, she doesn’t keep from glaring at you, her expression screaming What the hell are you doing?

You deadpan. You’ll explain everything later and it’ll all make sense. And you know this will inevitably end up being added to the list of the many embarrassing facts she knows about you and threatens you with when she wants to go clubbing and you don’t.

Jeongguk uses the brief interruption to glance up at where you’re perched in the corner of his peripheral vision, just to square you up and down with a skeptical arch of his brow, “Really?”

You scoff, smoothing out the creases on your skirt as if the fabric is somehow responsible for the lie you just told, “Is that shocking?”

He hums, returning to his work with the buzz of the needle filling the studio again, his voice padded the more he gets closer to Eunbi’s forearm, “I just find it hard to believe such a princess like you could handle any pain.”

You gulp.

What you’re getting from this conversation is that Jeongguk has always had an idea of who you are in his mind all along. That he’s always perceived you in some way. As much as your inner fourteen-year-old is swooning at the attention, gobbling up each of the tiny crumbles he’s giving you, it doesn’t sit right with you. What exactly does he think of you?

“Test me.”

He shrugs, eyes fixated on the shade he’s perfectioning with black ink, “Busy now.”

“I’ll go pay for mine. I saw you have one last free spot today,” you announce, the words tumbling out with more confidence than you feel. You’re already on your feet before the sentence is fully formed, betraying the fact that your nosy tendencies had gotten the better of you earlier. You’d discreetly glanced at his appointment book when Jeongguk and Eunbi were finalizing her tattoo details and negotiating the final price at the desk.

He hums, head tilting slightly, “And I wanted to spend it bumming around.”

“Too bad. You’ll have to postpone that.”

You walked into this studio swearing you’d never let a needle even brush you.

Now you’re stretched out on a leather bench, Jeongguk leaning over you with a stencil in hand, gloved fingers moving with careful precision.

The design you’d chosen came from his portfolio—a delicate illustration of two butterflies in motion, their soft threads intertwining. You’d flipped through countless pages of bold skulls and intricate linework before settling on this.

The spot you’d chosen for the tattoo was the flat, firm plane between your breasts. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a place you’d always liked. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that nature hadn’t exactly blessed you in the cleavage department. Subconsciously, perhaps, you thought that adding something there might give the illusion of more.

“Tehe,” you can’t stop the breathy giggle that escapes as the cool paper brushes against your skin. Your hand is pressed to your bra, holding it in place as best you can, though the situation feels so surreal it’s hard to focus on anything but the ridiculousness of it all.

Jeongguk glances up at you with a glare that’s more exasperated than angry before returning to the delicate task at hand, “What’s funny?”

Your voice wobbles, “I just— I tend to laugh during serious moments.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Sorry.”

With a small sigh, he smooths the stencil, and once it’s transferred he hands you a square mirror, waiting for your approval. You nod, the butterflies now perfectly poised in their eternal dance, and Jeongguk doesn’t waste a moment.

The buzz of the needle fills the room as he leans closer, one gloved hand resting on the upper part of your chest to steady himself. He’s mere seconds from beginning the inking process when another laugh bubbles out of you.

Jeongguk sits back abruptly, dropping his pen onto the metal tray with an audible clink. Tilting his head, he levels you with a look of thinly veiled irritation. “I really can’t work if your chest keeps moving.”

“Sorry,” you blurt again, turning your head to face the wall. You clamp your lips together tightly, mentally scrolling through every sad memory you can conjure. Think of something awful. Your childhood dog dying. Okay, maybe not that sad—

“You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Always smiling like you live surrounded by flowers and rainbows,” Jeongguk’s mutter vibrates against your chest, warm breath fanning over the cold skin, distracting you from your no-giggling mission.

The unexpected observation has your brows furrowing in a mildly offended frown, and banter is ready on your tongue. “You’re just the same too, Gguk. The emo boy who thinks he’s too cool for a smile.”

��I’m not an emo boy. The fuck,” he scoffs, kissing his teeth and murmuring more of his indignation under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. I can teach you.”

The whirring needle glides across your skin with a slightly firmer touch, making you hiss softly under your breath. He seems unbothered by the reaction, and instead bothered by your words, “Teach me what.”

“How to smile a bit more,” you reply, your voice laced with mockery as you keep your gaze firmly fixed on the wall. The smirk playing on your lips is triumphant; he walked right into your little jab, hehe.

Your mind is already racing, piecing together the beginning of a sarcastic rant about how his perpetual scowl probably contributed to his mysterious high school persona. For the sake of his ego, you won’t add how it worked in his favor, how more than one girl (your own self) found his untouchable vibe completely irresistible.

Even though, thinking back, he looked ridiculous. His big, round, slightly scared-of-the-world eyes truly didn’t belong with the heavy black eyeliner.

But before you can get a single word out, Jeongguk straightens his posture, pulling away from your chest. With a practiced motion, he tosses one of his gloves onto the counter behind him, his expression cool and indifferent. “It’s done.”

“Done?!” you exclaim, tilting your chin down to look at your chest. You go slightly cross-eyed trying to catch a glimpse of the design now inked onto your skin. Forever.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t even feel it.”

Jeongguk seems equally done with small talk, transitioning into a professional explanation of the tattoo’s aftercare step. His tone is calm but clipped, and you can’t tell if it’s his usual demeanor or just reserved for you. He also hands you a small tube of cream of which you’re not sure the use of, too enthralled by the vision of his colored sleeve this up close.

And still laying on the leather bed, you almost reach to trace one of the many lines with your finger before he interrupts, “You can pay with Yoongi at the entrance.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt as Jeongguk turns his back to you, his focus already back on cleaning his tools. You still are not over, “Thank you, Jeongguk. Can I— huh. Can I get your number?”

He pauses mid-motion, just long enough for the silence to stretch thin and taut. Turning around to study your features, he stares you up and down with knitted brows and a hostile kind of confusion painting his expression. “… For what exactly?”

“In case anything happens with the tattoo.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, eyes narrowing slightly, then turns back to what’s keeping him so occupied with a noncommittal grunt, “Huh. Sure. Yoongi has my business cards at the desk. You can ask him. Have a good day.”

With Eunbi practically dragging you out of the room, you don’t have the chance to say anything more, though your chest burns with indignation. It’s not that you expect him to fall over himself at the chance to catch up, but the sheer indifference is maddening.

Should you pretend you don’t care either? You could. But really, who are you fooling? You still have those old diaries buried somewhere in your closet, their pages crammed with his name written in looping, lovesick cursive. That little girl in you never truly died.

On the fourth day of December, you finally text him. It’s about your tattoo, of course. There’s not much else to say to him, but when his only reply to your picture of the healing process is a yellow thumbs up, you find your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Words start forming before you’ve fully processed them, and before you know it, you hit send.

You [3:39 p.m]: btw u still friends with kim tae?

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: Yes

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: He’s my best friend

You [3:43 p.m.]: ohhh, cool

jeongguk [3:45 p.m.]: You want his number?

You [3:46 p.m.]: no… i’m good with yours ☺️

You can’t help but giggle at how his typing bubbles appear and then fade for a whole minute, biting your lower lip with a sheepish grin, savoring the silent victory. You’re doing this for your fourteen-year-old self, who would’ve squealed at the thought of making Jeon Jeongguk flustered. But you’re a different girl now. You’ve changed. No man could ever reject—

jeongguk [3:48 p.m.]: If there’s nothing else about the tattoo then 👋

“Hmph,” your frown is so pronounced that you feel your chin aching and your wrinkles prematurely deepening. Well, this is not the first time you come face first with his sour antics. Only now, you’re prepared.

You [3:48 p.m.]: yall hanging out soon? let me join

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: Why lol

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: He barely even remembers you probs

You [3:50 p.m.]: who would not remember me

jeongguk [3:50 p.m.]: The only thing i’m now remembering about you is how I couldn’t stand your ass

You gasp, hand coming up to brush against your parted lips. With a huff, you hastily click at your keyboard, “Mean. Sent. Ugh.”

On the sixth day of December, your persistence pays off, and you find yourself at a random bar you’d never been to before, seated with both Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Between Jeongguk’s cigarette breaks—forcing the three of you to brave the cold outside—and brief moments in corners of the cramped place where the music feels muffled against the walls, you manage to catch up with Taehyung. The rest of the time though, the noise inside is so deafening that it makes any kind of meaningful conversation impossible.

Even more when a random girl slides into the booth next to him, capturing his attention entirely, leaving you and Jeongguk in paradoxical silence.

The tattoo artist has been glued to his phone with his head down for the last 20 minutes, and now you alternate between observing his side profile, roughened by the piercings and a more defined jawline, and analysing the weird dynamic that is beginning to form between Taehyung and the girl, sitting in front of you.

Alone with your thoughts and, well, the pulsating music, you feel yourself getting unreasonably closer to symptoms you know all too well, that threaten to have you spiraling. You shake your head, forcing it to stop. There’s no reason for anxiety to visit you at such an inconvenient time.

But of course, the little voice in your head starts listing all the totally valid motives why this is indeed the perfect time for it to visit you.

The bar feels suffocating on your skin.

Your dress clings too tightly.

The couple facing you is shamelessly close to making out.

Jeongguk sighs in visible boredom.

You shouldn’t have come. Hell, you shouldn't have suggested it in the first place. A smarter version of yourself would have brought Eunbi for balance, for comfort. But in your foolishness, you thought this could be an opportunity for you and Jeongguk to catch up. Instead, you feel foreign to him, foreign to this pub booth, and the air begins to feel foreign to your lungs. You’ve never liked bars, clubs, or places with loud music.

You sniffle, looking down at your lap. Then up at the ceiling. Then around the room. It keeps spinning and booming with volume that only adds to the feeling of helplessness. Quick, quick, quick.

What are five things that you can see?

Five. Your gaze falls on Taehyung and the girl, their lips and tongues clumsily entangled as they laugh between sloppy kisses. No help there. The air catches harder in your throat.

Four. Your empty glass, its smudged rim a reminder of the single drink you had, now sitting uncomfortably in your stomach.

Three. Your scuffed heels, their tips worn to the nub despite your best efforts to hide it with a marker.

Two. The swirling lights above the bar, dizzying as they flash brighter and brighter.

One. Jeongguk’s tattooed hand on your thigh.

His fingers dig into the skin, shaking you alarmedly, with a force you’ve never known from him, not even when it came to stopping your shaking stomach as you were laying on the studio’s leather bed.

Head snapping up to face him, you’re met with a perfect resemblance of how you must look right now. Wide eyes, knitted brows, nose flaring and exhaling, and you try to follow the movements of his mouth, but they jumble together annoyingly in your brain. You lean closer, narrowed orbs still fixated on his lips to try and read them. Are… you… ok—

“___, you’re scaring me. Hey, hello? Are you okay?”

Jeongguk moves from your thigh to your shoulders, jolting you gently but firmly from the fog that is threatening to cloud up your brain. The sudden clarity hits you, but you still stumble forward, your weight toppling over his chest. With it, your head dips rapidly, hurtling toward the sharp edge of the table, and before Jeongguk knows it his instinct snaps and he catches you promptly.

The next steps blur together. You vaguely register the boy next to you standing up and pulling you along with him, his broad shoulders supporting one of your arms while his inked one secures around the small of your waist, holding you firmly against him.

Then, it’s nothing but brief flashes. Jeongguk pressing a water bottle to your lips. Sitting you down on the stairs outside the pub. Holding your hair back as you double over, emptying the contents of your stomach onto the pavement. Cracking a smile to make you laugh, showing off his tattoos in exaggerated detail like it’s the grandest tour of your life. Opening the door to his car and gently easing you into the passenger seat, ensuring the seatbelt clicks into place.

Inside his car, you slowly feel your senses come back to you.

At a redlight that you recognise as the one near your apartment complex, you muster a small and hoarse thank you. Jeongguk only hums low, eyes fixated on the road and fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

Before a sheepish smile can make its way on your lips and spread across your face, your head twitches back as your brows furrow. Your thoughts suddenly catch up with you, “Hey, how do you know the way to my flat?”

His gaze briefly flicks toward you in annoyance, then back to the road. “You literally just told me.”

“Oh.” A beat passes before you giggle softly. “Don’t remember.”

Jeongguk mutters something intelligible under his breath, and next thing you know he’s turning down your street and slowing in front of the building that matches the number you gave him. Given your current state, he begins to question if that is even the right one.

“This one!” You point at the tall front gate with an almost childlike excitement, back shifting slightly from the seat as your grin stretches wide. Jeongguk grimaces. Why the fuck do you look like you’ve been reuinted with your home after years apart, as if you weren’t there just a couple hours ago?

“Right. Huh, you good with going back on your own?”

“Yes. I’d hate to bother you further. I’m sorry for this, I… was getting better, I guess.”

The sad confession doesn’t land with the weight it should, softened by the smile painted on your lips and the chuckle you let out as if it were nothing. Jeongguk’s eyelid twitches, unsettled by the unnecessary happiness that always seems to drip from you, even when it doesn’t belong.

“‘S okay. Have a good night,” he awkwardly bows his head, waiting for you to exit the car. When you stay still, he clears his throat, adding just to fill the silence, and perhaps because he means it, “Huh, and make sure to rest a lot.”

You take a moment, maybe longer than you should, to study his features up this close. You particularly fixate on the way his eyes dart everywhere but never land on yours. Then, with your signature toothy grin, you bow back and open the car door, leaving with a string of thank yous, and get home safe, and I’ll text you, and please, reply to me, and bye.

Jeongguk has to fight a smile of his own.

On the tenth day of December, you realise you want him. Even more badly than your fourteen-year-old self ever did. Which is frankly insane.

You don’t know if it was the natural way he looked after you during your episode, or his dry sarcasm as he actually started replying to your random updates throughout the day.

But no, it was definitely the selfie he sent you after what he said was a long day. Messy hair, tired eyes, a hint of a smile. You’d struggled to even gulp down your saliva when the picture popped up in your chat, and maniacally stared at it with eyes glued to the bright screen before sending one of your own. He had replied with Cute. followed by Your hair pin is cute.

That is why you find yourself facing… Yoongi? If you remember correctly. The guy at the front desk of Jeongguk’s studio.

You beam at him, and what you’re met with instead is a confused stare. You inhale, “Hi. Is Jeongguk in?”

Yoongi scratches his head, muttering, “He’s busy with a client.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” you wave off his concern. “Can I wait here?”

The boy hesitates, looks unsure the more your interaction develops, and he glances between you and the empty waiting area. He relents with furrowed brows, “Sure… Huh, It’s a back tattoo, so it’ll take him a while.”

You shrug and plop yourself onto the leather sofa, seemingly unfazed, “I like waiting.”

Crossing your legs, you take in the studio’s atmosphere, eyes drifting to the dark walls lined with framed artwork and certificates. You spot Jeongguk’s name on many of those.

For the next fifteen minutes, you try distracting yourself by flipping through the stack of tattoo magazines on the coffee table. You wince at inked heads, faces, butts, and even… more private parts. Deciding this world is definitely not for you, you slam the book shut.

By the time an hour passes, you’re fighting a battle with your lack of sleep. The third yawn you manage to stifle, but the fourth escapes before you can stop it. Yoongi, seated at the desk, doesn’t bother hiding his unimpressed stare. Still, he’s polite enough to offer you a glass of water, a coffee, or even a chance to join him for a cigarette break.

You decline all of it, though your throat does feel dry.

Maybe you should have planned this with a bit of rationality. Or at least gotten more sleep. Now, your every blink is slower, eyelids batting to shut and taking longer to flutter open again. Hm, this feels nice. You’ll just let them rest for a bit longer. And longer. And a bit more.

The next time you open your eyes, Jeongguk’s face is inches away, his warm hand resting firmly on your arm. You jolt upright with a startled yelp.

“Jeongguk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an unmistakably mocking smirk. “Hey. You don’t have a bed?”

You sit up, forcing Jeongguk to step back and straighten to his full height. Your neck cranes upward to glare at him, brows furrowed in what you hope is an intimidating glare, though you sport a pout that is all but menacing, “Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue, turning back to round the desk and fiddle with the appointment book, clearly unbothered. You take the moment to rub your eyes—only to remember, too late, that you’d worn makeup. A quick glance around reveals how much has changed since you last let your eyelids flutter open. The lights in the studio are dim, the hallway is dark, and every door is shut. Yoongi is nowhere in sight. It’s just the two of you in the deathly quiet space.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your parted lips, “Did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry. I was probably really tired from yesterday.”

Jeongguk hums, focus still locked on the book in front of him, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t ask why you came here in the first place, and doesn’t acknowledge your apology. Ugh. This is humiliating.

Before you can stand, you feel something heavy draped over your body. It’s a jacket. Definitely not yours, since you never took it off. At least not consciously. No, this is a worn black leather one on which his scent lingers. You tug it closer, puzzled, and then look up at him, holding it out. “Did I steal this in my sleep?”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose, “Ew, are you a sleepwalker?” Locking the till, he strolls over to you and plucks the jacket from you, casually slipping it on. “No, I put it on you. Wanted to see how long someone could feel safe enough to pass out in my studio. Thinking of turning this place into a daycare. I’ll have you play in the morning, get some lunch, nap time...”

There’s a beat of silence in which his sarcasm lingers in the air, and you stare at him, unamused. He shrugs, smirk unwavering.

You huff, “I regret coming here.”

“Yeah, why did you come here?”

Smoothing down your pink wool sweater, you stand up to stretch with zero shame. Then, fluttering your lashes at him, you assert with a smile, “You’re coming with me to the Christmas markets. This Sunday.”

Jeongguk groans like the idea physically pains him, “Oh, I would fucking hate that.”

Ignoring him, you zip up your puffer jacket and rock on your toes, “Pick me up at seven, okay?”

He glares, unimpressed at your excitement, before heading toward the entrance and pulling a hefty set of keys from his pocket, “I don’t even remember where you live.”

You hurry after him, following him outside and shuffling closer in your coat at the cold air hitting you. Watching as he locks the door and pulls down the rolling shutter with its red-and-black skull graffiti, you chirp, “You’ll have to text me for that.”

Jeongguk rises up again, giving you a slow once-over. He seems distracted by your hair before snorting, “You’re talking like I’m the one who spent their afternoon napping in my studio just to drop this bomb and leave. Couldn’t you just text me this?”

You shrug innocently. He sighs, reaching out for you, “Do you need a ride hom—”

“Bye!”

You spin on your heel and skip off in the opposite direction before he can let his own greeting out, waving a gloved hand behind you. Jeongguk stays where he is, arm still held out.

Do you even have a car? He hopes so—it’s freezing out.

With another sigh, he shakes his head and tugs his jacket tighter around himself. Why are you so fucking weird?

On the fourteenth day of December, your arm is looped tightly through Jeongguk’s as you stroll through the Christmas markets, burying your face further in your scarf to shield against the icy air, and with each few step you gasp at things that the boy next to you finds utterly unimpressive.

You stop at nearly every stand, eyes glowing with the warm Christmas fairy lights strung all around, effortlessly picking up conversations with the vendors and melting even the most stoic faces with the scrunching of your nose at every grin and the exaggerated nods following descriptions of their crafts.

Through all of it, Jeongguk remains put at your side, his arm linked with yours and a subtle pout on his lips. When you tease him about it, he simply shrugs, and you figure it’s just his natural expression. You find that oddly endearing.

He still humors your enthusiasm, offering low hums or murmured praise whenever you exclaim you’ve finally found what you’ve been searching for everywhere, and he offers to pay every time, the gesture so casual that he doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

When you bow to the nth seller, clutching yet another bag of sweet treats tightly to your chest, Jeongguk exhales and resumes slow walking beside you, “I don't like these places.”

You glance up at him, fluffy hat almost slipping off before he promptly secures it back on your head with a gesture so smooth you hardly notice it. You instead wonder, “Then why are we here now?”

He slips his hand into his pocket, “Because you threatened me.”

“With a really good time.”

“If this is your version of a good time, you might as well kick me in the balls. That probably feels better.”

You gasp, halting in your tracks to glare at him. When he lets a small chuckle topple out of him, you think you might forgive him. No, you’re more than sure with the way his smile lingers. You sheepishly look away, muttering, “Don’t tempt me, emo boy.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh yes, you are,” you interrupt, snapping your face back to his. Clearing your throat, you prepare your best imitation of him, exaggerating a frown and lowering your voice, “I’m so different, I hate Christmas.”

Jeongguk scoffs, pulling you tighter to him when a scooter unexpectedly zips past you. You yelp, instinctively shuffling closer to his arm. He continues the conversation casually, unaffected, “That’s the worst impression of me I’ve ever heard. And also, I never said that.”

Releasing the breath you held for a moment too long, you uncertainly keep your slow stroll going, only narrowing your orbs at him, “It’s written all over your face.”

“I love Christmas.”

The admission is small, his voice soft and almost reluctant, like it pains him to reveal something so simple and obvious as loving Christmas. When you lean your chin on the puffed arm of his jacket, he doesn’t look down at you, his gaze fixed ahead, guiding the two of you through the chaos of the busy street.

You chirp, your steps stumbling, “Really?

Only then he shifts his attention to you, steadying you with his other arm wrapping around your figure in what seems like a hug, before he lifts you up by the neck of your coat and retreats just enough to face you. His lips press into a straight line as he nods, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes the more he stares in yours, “Yeah, really. I just don’t like… crowded spaces.”

You can’t help but think back to what happened just a week ago. The exact reason why the spirals in your brain wouldn’t stop twisting and tangling is now slipping from his lips in a voice that quietens as he seems to grasp the delicacy of his own confession.

He doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him. Drawn-up brows over wide and sparkling eyes—the only part of your face visible beneath your scarf—stare at him with something too tender, too focused, that makes him uneasy. He turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears red not only from the cold, and pulls you along toward another stand, an almost nervous distraction.

It’s your turn to frown. Maybe the one that’s permanently plastered on his face tonight isn’t just a reflection of his usual sullen demeanor. With a knot tightening in your chest, you can’t help but feel like you dragged him into something he truly hated, and that he wasn’t just pretending to.

What if this isn’t just your evil inner voice talking? What if this isn’t just overthinking, but the factual truth of your current reality? He’s hating every second of this but still enduring it because— you catch your breath with a long and strained inhale, because—

“Hey, dimples. You okay?”

Jeongguk moves to stand in front of you, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, a stance eerily reminiscent of that night you were just thinking back to. He nods at you, “Breathe with me, hm?”

You find yourself quickly adjusting to his comforting aura, drawn in by the reassurance in his eyes trained on you, never wavering, watching closely as you begin to mirror the measured rise and fall of his chest, your breathing gradually syncing with his until the tightness in your chest starts to ease.

When you feel your feet touching the ground again, you offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m okay. Sorry. Just…” You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes landing on a colorful stand, “Wait here a second, okay?”

Jeongguk lets you slip away, fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He takes a few hesitant steps closer, careful not to crowd you but unable to tear his eyes away from your next actions, how your grin comes back on your lips with unpracticed ease, lighting up your face as easy talk flows between you and the seller. A few coins trade hands, and soon you’re holding two churros, their chocolate-dipped ends threatening to drip onto the ground.

You don’t hesitate, biting into one of them before it has the chance to make a mess, and with a quick nod of your head you motion for Jeongguk to follow. He does so, only after taking the churros from your hands, and letting you seek his warmth again with an arm snaking under his. He’s only letting you do this because it’s fucking cold, no other reason.

You walk, and walk, guiding him along until you find a quieter corner, away from the bustle, where you two stand isolated from the rest. The dim lighting casts a softer glow, and the distant hum of chatter and music fades into a gentle background noise.

Glancing up at him, you flash a playful smile before leaning in to bite another chunk of the churro he’s holding, your laughter spilling out as he grimaces in exaggerated disgust and pulls the sweet out of your reach. You settle onto a nearby bench, patting the empty spot beside you invitingly.

Jeongguk is unsure of what this means. He takes slow steps towards you, handing you your churro—which you take eagerly, already chewing on it—before tilting his head back in mild confusion, “But… you wanted to visit the markets.”

You shake your head, your bug eyes meeting his as you speak around a mouthful of sugar and chocolate, “There’s no point if you’re not going to enjoy it.”

The look you’re giving him is one he’s seen countless times before—familiar, and annoyingly reminiscent of ten years ago. It’s the same look that, he’s convinced, is solely responsible for making his knees weak and his fingers jittery, no longer something he can blame on the cold. You’re unbelievably frustrating.

He clicks his tongue, looking away, “You’re fucking weird.”

You giggle, humming, “If weird is a synonym for whipped, then sure.”

He has to fight the twitch of his lips. Fakes a gag instead. You chuckle louder. Only then, he hints at a smile, “C’mon. Let’s go check out some other stuff.”

“But—”

He interrupts, pulling you up by your forearm, “I’m hungry.”

The next hour you spend wandering around is made of Jeongguk’s small, imperceptible ways of cracking: his pout less prominent, more replaced by lips pulled into a tight line or in a mildly pursued scowl as you ask him which beanie looks better—the pink or purple one; his so evident sarcasm as he comments on how the old vendor was totally flirting with you, or when he mockingly adds to your over-the-top excitement every time you spot a dog. All in all, he’s more relaxed. More himself.

You then find yourself standing in front of the churros stall from earlier, the warm scent tugging you closer. Without hesitation, you ask the lady behind the counter for another four churros—this time with extra sugar. You add two thank yous.

To fill the waiting, you pick up casual conversation with the woman, until she pauses mid-sentence, wrinkled hand coming to rest over her heart as her gaze flits between you and Jeongguk, her crinkled eyes lighting with a sudden fondness and a quiet, content smile finds its space on her chapped lips, “You two look perfect together.”

Jeongguk snorts, “Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you, auntie!” You chirp, and your grin is so wide it squeezes your eyes into crescents. You accept the first churro she hands over, biting into it and talking through it, “These are delicious. Is the recipe a secret or can you share it with me?”

The woman laughs, clearly flustered by your energy, and leans in with a conspiratorial expression, though she gives in pretty soon, “It is a secret, but… Oh, c’mon. A pretty lady like you deserves to know.”

You burst into chuckles, joined by auntie’s own rolling and carrying a contrasting warmth to the cold air. Jeongguk, for his part, stands slightly to the side, observing. You still cling to his arm, even as the vendor reaches over to gently smooth her fingers through your curls, complimenting the way they frame your face. You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation, but there’s a dimpled smile stretching on your cheeks that gives you away.

Before you leave, the lady points to Jeongguk, voice growing earnest, “You, handsome. I can see you’re a good guy, so you probably don’t need my advice. But treat her right, yes?”

Jeongguk stills for a second and stumbles over an awkward nod, managing to force a smile that has you stifling a laugh under your scarf. You tug him away with a cheerful wave to your new friend, promising her you’ll come visit again before Christmas.

Once you’re at a safe distance, he mutters, “Why did you not tell her that we’re not together?”

You tilt your head considering his question, “It’s not like she knows us. She looked like she adored you. I didn’t want to ruin that for her. Maybe seeing a young couple like us really means a lot to her.”

Jeongguk observes how the more you explain, the more you’re convincing yourself as much as him, eventually solidifying your reasoning as you nod, muttering some more under your breath. He scoffs, looking away to hide his lips twitching.

When he turns back he’s frowning, though it doesn’t quite match the way he lets you hook arms again, your pastel pink bag hanging from his shoulders. Still, he sulks as though the mere thought of your observation has him shivering, and not with the cold, “We’re not a couple.”

Jeongguk barely gets to let his unnecessarily petty comment out before you drag him with an unusual strength over to another stand, his voice not even touching your ears, “Oh, let’s go over there, Gguk!”

On the twenty-first day or December, you send him a picture of your tattoo.

You had been talking non-stop ever since your… date? Or was it just a hangout? Whatever it was, it’s been a week, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling at a fucking screen too many times a day for his linking. It’s irritating. Even brings his phone with him to the bathroom in case you text him. Not because he cares. No, it’s practical. What if you ever had an emergency and he was the only one who could help?

Most of the time it’s just you sending TikToks, but he clicks on the links with the same urgency he’d reply to a genuine plea for help. He doesn’t really want to think of the reason why.

Now, this picture—it catches Jeongguk off guard.

It doesn’t even look like it’s about the tattoo. Not really. It feels like an excuse, a flimsy pretext for you to show yourself to him. The tattoo—the one he himself inked—is there, yes. But it’s not at all the main focus of the photo that tightens his grip on his phone.

You’re wearing a thin, pink tank top with delicate lace trim, the straps barely clinging to your shoulders. Your fingers hook under the neckline, tugging it down just enough to expose the tattoo nestled between the soft curve of your breasts. The angle of the shot is deliberate, he can tell. Your back arches slightly off what he assumes is your bed, and your face is cropped out, save for your glossed lips, full and slightly parted, catching the dim light.

Jeongguk blinks, hard. Then again. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, the low light of his phone screen doing little to soften the image burning itself into his mind. His eyes dart upward, scanning his surroundings, just to make sure everything is in place. The shop is empty, the door is closed, the hum of quiet settles over the space.

Looking down, the picture still stares back at him paired with a single message.

Annoying [11:39 p.m.]: do you think it’s healed? idk about this stuff, need your help 🥺

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what this is. He alternates between the photo and your words, jaw ticking and tightening more with the seconds flowing.

It’s almost cruel, the way you’re testing him like this. He tries to push the feeling down, to reject the buzz of heat pooling low in his stomach. You know him well enough to be aware that he won’t reply to something like this. A stupid, unnecessary message. The tattoo is healed—he told you that a week ago, clear as day. There’s no reason for you to ask again.

What’s the purpose of this?

He gets a distorted idea when he shifts uncomfortably in place, the dull ache tightening his pants almost unbearable now.

Jeongguk groans and locks his phone, tossing it onto the counter as if that will put an end to this. He tries to refocus on his tasks, the last ones before he clocks off. Cleaning needles, tossing used stencils.

But his heavy balls keep sending desperate, silent prayers to his brain, to please let them have this. Just this once.

It’s been a bad day. Two of his appointments canceled last minute, leaving him to sit around bored. The last client showed up drunk and wouldn’t stop trying to flirt with him. His coworkers were loud and distracting, and to top it all off, the heater broke, leaving the studio freezing cold.

It’s been such a bad day.

So, would there be any harm? It’s not like anyone will know. Not you, not his friends. He’s the only one that will. And he’s far more willing to live with this dirty secret rather than with his hard dick straining achingly in its confines.

Jeongguk abruptly snatches up his phone again, unlocking it to the same picture that caused him to brush the device aside just minutes ago. He lets out a shaky breath, thumb hovering over the screen. You won’t get no reply to him. But if you knew what he was up to right now, you would probably geek. Tease him, with your warm smile that digs dimples in your cheek, hopping on your toes to poke at his chest playfully, with those perfectly manicured hands of yours.

“Shit,” his free hand is already pushing the jeans down along with his boxers, and he drops his weight onto the nearest stool as he grips at the base of his thick cock, eyes devouring the image of you in the empty chat.

He doesn’t zoom in. That would feel too shameless. But he finds it oddly better like this. Is it weird that your text, so innocently worded, is turning him on? That the simple idea of you needing his help is enough to have his hips jerking?

What could you possibly need his help for? Fuck. The different ideas that pool his mind have him squeezing harder at his stinging tip.

Jeongguk focuses on your dainty hand, slim pointer finger snaking under the collar of your flimsy shirt to show yourself to him, and your small boobs spill from the sides with a delicious, soft swell. He hisses when he pictures that same hand working on him instead, his warm mouth stuffed with your stiff nipples, visible through the sheer material.

He can’t help the loud groan leaving his lips, wrist flickering up and down in a motion that feels sloppy way too soon, hips jutting up to fuck into his tight fist. Throwing his head back, he sees you even behind closed eyelids.

He pictures your delicate figure sprawled on his bed, long lashes batting up at him as you sheepishly hide with your cheek to your shoulder. Can clearly make out how you’d sit on his lap instead, unsteady breath fanning over his lips, using his long shaft to make yourself cum. The whole time, he sees the tattoo on your chest, the one that is forever on you, eternally a reminder of him.

When he lets his head topple forward again, his bright screen still stares at him, only because a new message pops up in the chat. He startles, and his cock throbs in his hand.

Annoying [11:52 p.m.]: oh, and i miss you.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse is strained through a loud whine, and only followed by more of his full moans filling the room. His brows knit as his hand moves rapidly, palm collecting the precum spreading embarrassingly fast on his tip and rolling it down his length.

He focuses on your parted lips, the soft curve of your breast, your hard nipples begging to be sucked and spit on. Your last text has flashes of your bug-like eyes staring up at him seizing his mind.

That’s what undoes him. He’s delirious as he lets out his every sound, freely, unchecked, not caring about how loud he is, whimpering as he gets closer to his climax. When he thinks of those eyes locking with his, kneeling before him, eager and willing to swallow his every drop, he cums. Hard.

Jeongguk pumps everything he can out of him, and it’s messy—spilling over his hand, staining his clothes, pooling on the floor. His chest heaves with the effort, and the sensation of abandon he feels is so pleasurable, energy drained but leaving him with a lightness that threatens to make his cock hard again.

Fuck. He can’t afford that happening if you’re not the one attending his needs. This won’t be enough, not until it’s you. He’s insatiable.

Jeongguk needs to hear your voice.

It’s an instinct, and he bends to it. He’s careful, making sure not to tap on the FaceTime option, because if you were to see him right now it’d be glaringly obvious.

When he looks to the side, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the long mirror, and he visibly grimaces at the way his cheeks are flushed, the pearls of sweat coating his forehead causing his bangs to stick uncomfortably to the skin.

Guilty doesn’t even begin to cover it.

With the phone to his ear beeping to eternity, he hesitates, contemplates ending the call before you can answer. But just then, you do.

“Jeongguk! Is everything okay?”

Your voice is familiarly soft, but there’s a trace of concern. Blinking, he brings the device closer again and gulps thickly when he can make out your panting breaths. He clears his throat and puts on his best nonchalant act, “Huh— Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know… You just never call. Or text first. This is weird. You sure you’re okay?”

Oh. Is that really what it is like?

Jeongguk never realized this was how he came across—so detached that a simple phone call feels out of character. Your naive honesty hits him square in the chest. God, he needs to get better at this. The irony stings: he just fucking jerked off to your picture and the simple thought of you, while you’re on the other side thinking he’s just a careless piece of shit who doesn’t even know how to call.

The long stretch of silence registers in his brain, and he coughs to buy time, “Yes, I’m sure. I— huh,” he thinks of stuff you usually ask to keep the conversation flowing. Not out of courtesy, but out of genuine interest, the curiosity that makes people want to open up. He’s still not used to that. Still finds it weird.

“How… How was your day?”

It must be equally weird for you because it takes you a longer beat to reply. In that quiet moment, he clenches his eyes shut and feels his jaw tick with shame. And embarrassment. And this icky feeling that makes him feel too mushy for his liking. Hell, what is he doing? He’s never been like this, he’s not supposed to be like this.

But you recover quickly, as you always do, and you smooth over the moment. Fix it all for him like you were born to be just that. Make him feel like he fits in ways that have him exhaling shakily.

Jeongguk senses a foreign drumming in his stomach, and it’s warm but odd, and he loves it but he doesn’t want to.

On the twenty-fifth day of December, cheekily under a mistletoe, Jeongguk realizes he wants you. There’s parts of him that probably knew way sooner. But the parts of him that didn’t, fighting tooth and nail to suppress the mere thought, are just now finally surrendering.

Jeongguk has always found you admirable, back in high school. You had this determination to you. Not only when it came to him. It shone particularly when you catered to others, always finding ways to help, to mend, to offer yourself with nothing less than a fully toothed smile.

But he’s also always thought you two were—and still are—too different to work. He can’t be what you want, let alone what you deserve: someone who can match your enthusiasm and unwavering smiles, your frustrating positivity; someone who sees the world the way you do. No black, no grey, no shades in between. Just bright, hopeful white. Blinding white.

It’s the white making him dizzy, shifting his perspective, having him believing the opposite of what he’s always known. Pushing to be a little more egoistical, deceiving himself that he’s right for you. Because he wants to be. He oh, so selfishly wants people to know he’s the one who finally gets to have you, the one gifted with such a light, unfairly deserving of all the love you carry into every room you walk into.

Just a few days ago, during another one of your increasingly frequent phone calls, you asked him what he was doing for Christmas. He could have lied, come up with something on the spot.

But with how you so easily, and always coax the truth out of him, he let it slip. He told you he’d be alone, words subtly heavy. But they didn’t have the chance to even drop their weight before you were already inviting him to your friend’s party, insisting that he would be the most welcome.

And he’s here, and he sits beside you, and every time you laugh you lean your weight over him, and the room vibrates with the energy you fill it with, and each one of your friends is so enamoured with you, and for reasons he can’t fully understand it fills him with a sense of pride that shouldn’t belong to him. But it does, and it comes with so many other feelings.

You don’t push him to talk. You never force him into the spotlight when he takes a step back, quietly observing, choosing to stay in the background. Because you read him like it’s in your nature to do so, your soul seems to intuitively melt with his, and it intertwines in such a tight knot that he feels it constrict his throat. He knows he’s still alive because his heart is beating, just a little faster with each time you flash your dimples at him.

“Dimples. What are you doing, hm?”

Now, he’s in front of you, a small smile on his lips as you stand on your tiptoes, trying to dangle the mistletoe over both your heads. You’re struggling just a little, your hand unable to reach high enough, and the fake plant awkwardly brushes his hair, the tickling sensation causing his nose to scrunch. You laugh.

Looking up at your swinging movements, you lose your balance for the slightest second. Jeongguk’s hands move instinctively, catching you promptly by the waist to steady your body. But even after that, he doesn’t shift, his warm palms stilling. And when you face him, he’s closer and his chest brushes against yours. From this proximity, he witnesses the Christmas lights painting a galaxy of their own in your orbs.

You beam, “What does it look like? We have to kiss now.”

Jeongguk stares in your expectant eyes, brows wiggling and all. The more his mouth keeps in a straight line, the more the wiggling slows. You eventually come down from your tiptoes, letting the mistletoe fall to the side, tilting your head.

He snorts, looking away briefly to hide an embarrassingly wide grin behind his hand. When he turns back to you, your pout is enough to have him scrambling to meet your gaze.

“On one condition, though.”

You chirp, “Yeah?”

He licks his teeth, reserving you with a smug look, “Admit that you were scared to get your tattoo.”

Your smile vanishes in an instant, your expression falling into mock offense. With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel, pretending to walk away from him. Pretending, only because you know he won’t let you. And you’re proven right when his fingers wrap around your arm, tugging you back with enough force to spin you into him. Suddenly, you’re pressed so close you can feel the heat radiating from him. Your chin nearly touches his chest as you glare up at him, narrowed eyes meeting the mischievous glint in his.

He bites a smile, lips twitching, “C’mon, princess. You wanted to act all tough and shit, but I could feel you shaking.”

Your scoff is loud and incredulous, “You’re such a bitch.”

He only shrugs, “You want my kiss, no?”

“Oh my god,” groaning, it’s your turn to face the side to hide a grin, “Are you always this cocky?”

His chin tilts upward slightly, and you can tell he’s enjoying this, “Say it.”

You whip back around to meet him with a seriousness he hardly ever sees on you, and you even clear your throat, channeling every ounce of the determination he knows you for, every drop of resolve that makes you you. “Yes. I was scared shitless, Jeongguk.”

Foreign excitement brims out of him, not before his eyes widen just a fraction, and his nose scrunches the more he leans closer to you, inches from you, swinging side to side with exaggerated mockery and a grin splitting his face, “See! I knew—hmph.”

There’s no other second to waste.

The condition has been met, and now all the requirements for you to claim what you were promised, your reward, are there. Even more when kissing him means catching him mid-taunt and silencing whatever teasing remark he had ready.

Your lips touch his in effortless ease, breaking the air as they press together. It’s tentative at first, almost uncertain as you feel Jeongguk remain still.

But it doesn’t take him longer to move, mouth molding against yours in a sickeningly sweet hug, tasting each other with quiet curiosity, taking your time to adjust and melt, instructing your bodies to imitate the dance.

Your arms lock around his neck, his stronger and tattooed ones circle your waist, and the way you click together feels so right, almost too perfect, so perfect it scares you. When you arch yourself further into him, even the non-existent space between you unbearable, he accompanies the motion with his wide palms gliding along your back, squeezing you into him, feeling the curve of your hips.

The soft whine that scratches your throat and vibrates against his lips betrays you, along with the useless effort to contain the intensity of what you’re feeling. The emotion disarms you, the sound gasping in your chest, but in Jeongguk’s arms it feels safe to let go.

On Christmas day, you crown a youthful fantasy, the kind you’ll look back to even when you’re older. Jeongguk feels like he’d be the right person to stand by you to do so.

When he reluctantly detaches from you, his face keeps at a safe distance that’d allow him to go back and taste you, not before resting his forehead on yours and whispering, “Merry Christmas.”

You giggle. “Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

[ariadnes-elixirs]

thinking of an isekaied reader and a yandere noble boy...

(gn reader x male noble yandere)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

tw: none (?) so far, just some obsessive sounding letters

you were currently staring at a face that wasn't yours, in a castle you've never seen, surrounded by people you don't know. you look down at you hands, now covered in jewelry you could have never hoped to afford in your previous life. your unblemished, dainty hands that have never seen a day of work.

the first couple days you spent in this body were spent in bed. you were told by the nurse that you had collapsed while leaving supper and had been asleep for several days.

your father, the count, made the estate's staff keep you in bed and well taken care of. he was a tan and muscular man with a scar across the left side of his face. at first you were intimidated by his rough appearance, especially because these settings usually accompany a stereotypically abusive family for the female protagonist.

however, you found that he was a kind and gentle man, genuinely concerned for his child's well being. his eyes soften as they turn to you, and after asking around, you found out that he has been working remotely from the estate ever since you passed out.

you found out from a maid that he was born a commoner, but excelled at combat and battle strategy. which caught the eye of the grand duke, and his daughter.

the grand duke's daughter was about the same age as him, and there were rumors floating around about them meeting in secret as children, then falling in love as they grew older.

he was able to prove his worth to the kingdom and earn his title through battle. although, it was unclear if he did this just to obtain status, or if it was to impress a certain grand duke.

your mother was usually busy tending to the estate's financial affairs, but the few times you saw her around were when she was at your bedside, reading a book in her lap while playing with a strand of your hair as you were tended to by nurses and maids.

apparently, regardless of the status your father obtained, the grand duke was insistent that his daughter was too good for him. he would shout and scream like a child about how she would marry the prince, who is now the king. when she refused to do so, he disowned her.

with your father's newly obtained title of "count" he obtained land, and greatly assisted the men and women he paid to build the estate you and your family currently live in.

your mother apparently knew that she would get disowned as soon as they made their relationship public. so, they strategically announced their engagement and wedding so that your mother could simply move in with your father as soon as she was disowned.

she usually appeared cold and didn't say much, but the way she looked at your father made you believe she had no regrets and loves him, you, and the life she has. the way your father looked at her also made you believe that he was deeply in love with her, as he borderline worshipped the ground she walked on. they were a private, yet happy couple and you were their beloved only child.

this scene was familiar, but you couldn't quite place it. you were an avid reader of "otome isekai" manga and manhwa, but nothing about this seemed familiar to you. so, when you were finally allowed to leave your bed, you tried to deduce as much as you could about where you were.

eventually, you decided to ask your parents. claiming that you were having issues with your memory since you collapsed. technically not a lie, and they looked concerned while they answered your questions one at a time. as you got up to leave, you noticed a pile of unopened letters on the windowsill of your parents' joint office.

your parents sighed as their attention shifted to what you had been staring at.

your father spoke up first, "that friend of yours has not stopped sending letters ever since he found out what happened to you," he continued, "i knew it was a mistake telling him you collapsed."

your mother expression shifted into a sly yet knowing look, "well, i can't blame the boy for being concerned. the two of you have been attached at the hip since childhood."

your father makes an abstract motion with his left arm, vaguely gesturing at the pile of letters. "we didn't want to disturb your rest or worry you, so we decided to hide the letters until you recovered." he pauses, "feel free to take them on your way out."

you walk over to the windowsill and slowly start collecting the letters. all addressed to what is now "your" name. as your eyes shift to the return address, you notice they all came from an oliver northwood.

you say your goodbyes to your parents, and make your way back to your room. once you've arrived, you set down the letters on your bed and slowly realize just how many letters he's written to you within the past four days. you begin with the earliest ones, all of which contain very sweet and concerned messages, wishing for you to recover soon.

as you keep reading, you start to feel a sense of dead wash over you as the contents of the letters become more... unsettling. shifting from statements like "i wish you a speedy recovery and can't wait to see you again!" to "every day i go without seeing your face is a day wasted. i wish i could go over there to see you, even if you 'aren't awake.'"

you push on, finally getting to the more recent letters. the contents causes a small shiver to run down your spine. "i miss you so so so so much. my darling, my love, my closest friend. please please get better soon. i feel myself slowly going insane when you aren't near me. sometimes, i feel like you are the one thing keeping me stable. please get better. please..."

you don't know this man, but the person whose body you now inhabit did.

you try to recall every male lead you could. oliver northwood... oliver northwood... doesnt sound like any male lead youve read about. you did read... so much otome isekai though. so its also possible you just cant remember.

just who is he?

please let me know if you want a continuation! :)