#sitting in a corner and staring at the wall

[imsofreakingtired]

a fic based on this incorrect quote 💙🦋 thank u @bbybhr for the idea :D

sour grapes

content warning(s): none, just fluff- this is the au where everyone is sane and happy. useless lesbians and their mutual pining. sevika is smart in many ways, but she's kind of an idiot when it comes to her feelings for you.

or, you fell first. sevika fell harder. wc: 3.2k words

"even if i come closer step by step i don't think i could hold your hand the love that sits at the top of the ladder- oh, i don't wanna be the one to get hurt (yeah, you'll hurt me)"

~~~

It’s only midday, but the Last Drop is bustling with activity. Humans, vastayas, even a Yordle here and there chatter over each other, and ribbons of laughter unfurl from their conversations as they call for another drink. 

You stand at the door, rolled papers tucked under your arm, and survey the crowded place. You have a meeting with the owner, Vander, but he’s nowhere to be seen—he could be getting something from the storage room….Or he’s late again from a date with Silco. In short, you’re looking at anything between two minutes and half an hour of waiting. 

Not a problem today. Your next client cancelled their appointment last minute, saving you a trip all the way up to Piltover—so you have luxurious time to spare. You find a small empty table near the corner, where you can sit with your back to the wall and look over nearly the entire bar. Your eyes wander from the aluminum make of the bar counter—that could be rebuilt with steel: more sturdy and much more sightly. You take in the simple design of the tables and chairs. It’s the details that excite you most, more than any wide-scale layout. The smallest touches could transform a room. And the people who frequent it most would feel it. Like magic. 

Gert walks over with your favorite drink. She sets it down in front of you, and the movement startles you out of your reveries. 

“Come here to daydream?” Gert says with a smirk. 

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Ha-ha. Actually, I’m waiting for your boss.” 

“He went out with Silco this morning.” 

“Of course he did.” You sip your drink. “Do you know when he’ll be back?” 

“That’s entirely up to his man.” Gert shrugs. “At least today isn’t as busy as most. You got something to run by him?” 

You pat the papers on the table beside you. “This is where all the magic happens.”  

Gert reaches for the blueprints, but you push them away. “Ah-ah. Don’t wanna ruin the surprise.” 

She shakes her head, gives a mock huff of frustration. “You’re so dramatic. Anyway, you got lucky. You don’t have to wait until Vander comes back—his contractor’s back in town today. You can talk to her. I think she’s here right now.” 

“Contractor?” 

“There she is.” Gert points to a table across the room. You strain to follow her gaze. 

Sitting at a table near the bar, deep in conversation with two companions you don’t recognize, is a short-haired woman you have never seen before. Despite yourself, your breath catches in your throat. 

No shit, the woman is attractive—broad shoulders, sharp face, bold features. You can see that from a mile away. But there is also an energy that ripples from her, a quiet authority and warmth that you can’t drag your eyes away from. Even looking at her from this distance, you can feel the intensity of her gaze, the concentration with which she listens to people. And her companions in turn listen to her. You can see it in the way they become respectfully still when she speaks, the way they lean slightly closer to her. 

You aren’t normally intimidated by people. You’ve worked in the interior design business long enough to meet all sorts of clients, and you’d grown pretty confident that you can handle anything. But this woman… 

“What’s her name?” you ask Gert, still staring. 

“Sevika. You just gonna ogle her all day, or are you gonna get on with your job?” 

You swat at her arm. Laughing, she goes away to take another order. 

Now you’re left with nothing simpler to do than to approach this unbelievably handsome woman. 

Sure, you think. No problem. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“...So I’m sayin’ to this sucker, ‘no, I think you have the wrong idea, bub, because I’m certain that I paid back the debt in full last week.” Huck wriggles forward in his seat, hands flying to emphasize his point. “Am I the idiot here or was I being conned?” 

“You need to keep the records,” Sevika says. “How many times do I have to tell you?” A half-smile plays  on her lips. Huck had the same problem to gripe about every damn time he came to the Last Drop. 

“I do keep the records,” he protests. “They keep disappearin’ on me. I think I’m bein’ robbed.” 

“Who the hell would wanna steal your lousy old records?” demands Syra, the baker. “I think you’re just losing your marbles…” 

Sevika laughs, her eyes drifting away from the table into the crowd. The day is clear. If Vander doesn’t decide to show up in another fifteen minutes, she’ll figure that’s her sign from Janna to take the rest of the day off. Maybe she’ll walk over the bridge, listen to the buskers. Pick up some food from the vendors. Make the most of the waning autumn sun. 

That’s when she sees you, walking over to her table. 

Your eyes meet. 

Later on, Sevika will insist that she noticed you first. She will tell you that she felt your presence from the moment you walked into the bar. As the old saying goes. She’ll swear that she remembered the moment crystal-clear: the jacket you were wearing, the way your hair looked in the light. 

Whatever she remembered later on, however, you will never forget the moment you first locked gazes with her. The dark bangs sweeping over the bridge of her nose. Those eyes. 

You approach with a confidence you barely feel, fighting hard to ignore your heart slamming in your chest. The professional smile you reserve for clients feels frozen on your face and you can vaguely hear yourself saying, “Sevika, right? I’m Vander’s designer. That is, for this bar. I was told I could speak to you.” 

You’re aware that she asks for your name, and you hear yourself give it. She offers her hand. You take it. Her grip is warm and strong. She never breaks eye contact. 

“Can I speak to you aside for a minute?” You ask. 

Her companions wave her away, and she leads you up the stairs, away from the noise and chatter of the Last Drop. You follow her into an office of sorts, strewn with papers, kids’ drawings tacked up on the walls. 

“Sorry about the mess,” Sevika says. “Boss thinks his kids are Zaun’s own artistic prodigies.” 

You smile. “It’s cute.” 

She clears away a space on the desk at the front of the room for your blueprints. “You’re in charge of renovations, yeah? Heard a lot about you.” 

“You have?” 

She helps you pin down the blueprints with books and paperweights. “Sure. Word gets around fast here.” 

“Sorry if I interrupted your conversation back there,” you say. 

“No, no. You saved me from it.” 

You must have talked about the floor plans, the construction logistics. You must have asked her about Vander’s intentions for the electrical infrastructure, the plan to finish the renovations in time for the dance that was happening a month from now. You must have done all these things, but you can’t remember any of it. You can’t recall whether you spoke about steel or silver, whether you suggested using wood or plaster. All you can think of is the distracting smell of Sevika’s cologne, the muscles of her forearms, the faint moles dotting her brown skin. When you part, she gives you her card. It has her contact information, her office address. 

“In case our middle man Vander decides to run away to his romance fairy tale again, while we work our asses off,” she says with a smile. “You can find me here.” 

When you leave the Last Drop late that afternoon, there’s only one thought on your mind. 

Janna help me. I am fucked. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

If she’s being honest, Sevika did not give you much thought at first. You were the good-looking young designer, full of a purpose and efficiency that she was quick to appreciate. She had heard of your work both in Zaun and Piltover, your specialty being shop interiors, restaurants, bars. And when she began working with you, she could soon see that the rumors had not been unfounded. 

She considered you attractive, of course: many a time she found herself looking a second longer at your face than she meant to, or remembering the color of a blouse you wore slightly clearer than was normal, just because you looked good in it. She would turn suddenly in marketplaces, thinking she caught a whiff of your scent. But she hadn’t entertained anything, even in her mind. She’d assumed that someone as attractive as you would obviously already be spoken for. 

She didn’t want to fall for a vision, an ideal. She didn’t want to risk chasing something she could never have. She didn’t have the energy for that. 

But it has been two weeks, and you have been coming to the Last Drop nearly every day—as the days draw closer to the dance, the renovation work has picked up speed. You’re lively with ideas, and not a detail escapes your eye. Preserve the playful theme. Add some dartboards. Silver filigree in the chairs and tables, and how about lining the beams with gold? 

And Sevika’s beginning to think of you more and more. You’ll say something to her, and she’ll remember the way your eyes brightened, the way the scarf sat around your neck, the way your hand rested briefly on her arm—but she won’t have the foggiest idea of what you said to her. 

She likes the way her name sounds on your lips. She likes the way you talk a little faster when you get excited. She likes…

What the hell are you doing, Sevika? Pull yourself together. 

But she can’t. She can’t push you out of her thoughts. 

One night, Powder helps with the closing up as you and Sevika sit at the bar, talking over last-minute plans for the room layout before the workers are called in the next morning. As Powder stacks the glasses and wipes down the bar counter, you lean over the diagrams of the Last Drop, talking intently. 

“...If we move the pool table to this end, and arrange the tables around in a rough semi-circle, it’ll clear the way for the platform,” you explain. “Then everything can be put back easier when the dance is over.” 

“Mm,” Sevika says. 

You look over at her. “You alright?” 

She blinks, gives a start almost as if caught at something. “What?”

Your brows crease slightly in concern. “You seem tired these days. I’m working you too hard, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah. No,” Sevika corrects, shaking her head. “I mean, no, you’re not.”

You can’t help but smile at her stutter. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard her stumble over her words—she normally speaks as if every word is calculated, every phrase thought over. “But yeah, you’re tired?” you quip. 

Sevika laughs, awkwardly. “I’m fine.” 

“Can’t fool me,” you tell her. “I’ll let you off for the night. I think we’re mostly done here, anyway.” You gather up the papers and give Powder a little salute. “Bye, Powder!” 

“Good night!” Powder waves. 

She waits until the door closes behind you before flipping the cloth over her shoulder and grinning at Sevika, hands on her hips. “You like her.” 

Sevika’s head snaps up. “No, I don’t,” she says quickly. Too quickly. 

Powder gives an exasperated sigh. “Between you and Mylo, I feel like I should be getting paid for the amount of setting-up I gotta do.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sevika grumbles. 

“Come on, auntie. Everyone and their mother can see she’s into you. Why don’t you ask her to the dance?” 

Sevika feels the heat climb up her neck. “That’s ridiculous. She isn’t into me.” She glances at Powder, who’s still giving her the I can’t believe you stare. “...Is she?” 

Powder rolls her eyes. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“Well, has she told you anything?” 

Powder leans forward, elbows resting on the counter. She fixes Sevika with a pointed look. “Do you need people to tell you it’s hot in the middle of summer?” 

Sevika sighs. “I don’t want to waste my time. She could be seeing someone.” 

“Who could she possibly be seeing? She’s holding out for you!” 

“Why would she be holding out for me?” Sevika retorts. “Look at her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean….I mean she’s her, and I’m me.” Sevika throws up her hands, helplessly. “There isn’t a chance in the world.” 

“Hey, auntie,” Powder says, the teasing edge gone from her voice. “You never know unless you talk to her.” 

“I can’t,” Sevika says. She runs a hand through her hair. “She’ll probably laugh in my face.” 

“If I can prove to you she won’t, will you give it a shot?” 

Sevika looks over at her through her hair, and Powder thinks of the puppy she found hiding in the tall grass at the edge of town. The puppy and her aunt had this in common, she thinks with amusement—they carry their fears in their eyes. 

“The other day she was talking with Vander about the color scheme for the dance,” Powder says, “and she suggested purple lighting.” 

Sevika raises an eyebrow. “So?” 

“I was in the room, and I asked her why.” Powder snaps the cloth at the table once, then folds it neatly. “Guess what she said?” 

“Don’t try me,” Sevika mutters. She looks away, pulls her body back, because she realizes just now that she was leaning forward in her seat with apprehension. 

Powder laughs. “She said because it’s your favorite color. It slipped out, just like that. It was so obvious that wasn’t what she meant to say, but she said it. You should have seen her face.” 

Sevika wracks her brain for a moment in which she might have let slip to you that purple is, indeed, her favorite color. She can’t remember for the life of her. A small hope dares to sprout in her mind, but she stamps it down. “That barely means anything,” she informs Powder. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Powder exclaims. “Who the hell dedicates the theme of a dance to a person they have no feelings for?” 

When Sevika says nothing, Powder pokes her in the shoulder. 

“I’m right and you know it.” 

Sevika huffs. “Isn’t it time for you to get to bed?” 

“I’m nearly eighteen, auntie. That line won’t work on me anymore.” As Sevika puts on her jacket, Powder switches off the lights of the bar. Before Sevika leaves, Powder calls out,

“There’s about a week left until the dance. Consider that your deadline!” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The renovations are complete. The lights installed. The themes are decided, and Sevika’s crew is nearly done with the installations. 

Powder has told you, a bit mysteriously, you think, about some last-minute light change for the stage’s neon sign. Since she said it was urgent, you come into the bar near closing time. There are no more patrons; the place is empty except for Vander and Silco, talking over something with Sevika. Her back is turned; she doesn’t see you. Powder is leaning against the other side of the counter, talking excitedly as she wipes down some glasses. When she sees you, her face lights up. She waves. 

Sevika turns around to see who Powder is greeting. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” you say hesitantly, “but Powder said something about the li—”

“Dads!” Powder says in a loud voice. “The lights. Yes. We need to go check the lights for the sign.” 

Vander looks up at the unlit stage sign, brows furrowed in confusion. “We do?” 

You see Powder shoot a meaningful glance at Silco, who catches on faster. He grabs Vander by the arm. “Yes!” He exclaims. “We do! What in Runeterra were we thinking, with the dance just around the corner!” 

Sevika stands abruptly. “I can do it.” 

“No!” Silco and Powder say in unison. 

“No,” Powder says again, “you stay here and show her the, um, set pieces you were building for the band.” As she ushers her dads out of the bar, Powder shouts over her shoulder: “lock up when you’re done, okay? The key’s in the storage room. Thank-you-and-good-luck!”

The door slams behind them, and the place is suddenly too quiet. 

You are utterly confused, and from the bewildered expression on Sevika’s face it’s clear she hasn’t got much of a better idea of what is going on. 

Sevika’s still standing. She looks at you. You look away. 

She coughs, rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “You want a drink?” 

“Okay. Sure.” 

And this is how you find yourself alone with Sevika in an empty bar with a glass of wine in front of you. Just to give your hands something to do, you raise the glass to your lips. 

Sevika says abruptly, “there are no set pieces.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“What Powder said—ah.” She shakes her head, a huff of mixed exasperation and amusement escaping her lips. “She made that up.” 

You laugh. “Okay. I figured.” 

She looks at you the same time you look at her. This time, you don’t break the gaze. Her eyes are the clearest grey you’ve ever seen. In certain kinds of light, they shift into pale blue, like diamonds. Her brows, thick and defined. Her beautiful nose, her dark lips. You catch yourself looking at her mouth and turn away quickly, taking another sip of wine. 

Sevika’s voice drops as she says, “listen, I’m not good with games. So I’ll just get to the point.” 

The wine is hot going down. Or maybe it is just your burning face. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Sevika says. 

You keep your eyes fixed on the table. Lined with gold metal. You had watched Sevika’s calloused fingers drive in every nail. 

“I’m probably gonna make a fool of myself,” Sevika goes on, speaking slowly, “but I need you to know.” She pauses. Her voice is steady, but you can see her nerves in the way her leg bounces against the chair. “And I wanted to ask…if you would be interested…I mean, if you might want to…”

You turn to her and rest your hand on her leg. She freezes. 

“Yes, Sevika,” you say with a smile, “Yes, I would love to go to the dance with you.”

She’s quiet for so long you start to feel nervous, that maybe that wasn’t what she was trying to say. Just as you start to pull away, just as an apology starts to form on your lips, she smiles back. Incredulously. Genuinely. 

There’s a gap between her two front teeth, how had you never noticed before? 

“Really?” Sevika asks. 

You laugh out loud. “Took you long enough. Thought I was gonna have to leave town without seeing the fruits of my labor.” 

A faint flush blossoms in her face, she shakes the hair out of her eyes. “I thought you wouldn’t want to.”

She means, I thought you wouldn’t want me. 

You reach out. She grows still at the touch of your hand against her cheek. Her skin is warm against your palm as you pull her face towards yours. 

And then there is the enormous silence of your lips meeting hers.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

notes: guys, this one possessed me. it is 1 in the morning and i am drained. why is fluff so hard to writeee 😭 anyway i hope you enjoyed <33

~~~

taglist~ @notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69  @intrnetrbl @mamas-evil-hag @sevikassluttywaist @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @lez-zuha @mascdom @tiyawnyana @shanesevikasfuckdoll @vamp1reg1rrrl @00valentina-writes00 @rinmarye @starrrcane

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ insane in the brain

pairing: ghostface!kim seungmin & ghostface!yang jeongin x f!reader

genre: one-shot, horror au, smut

word count: 17,1K

warnings: yandere!seungmin & yandere!jeongin ⋆ dom!seungmin & dom!jeongin & sub!reader⋆ mention of a violent act! ⋆ story is set in the 90s ⋆ obsessive behavior ⋆ stalking! ⋆ little!mxm action ⋆ threesome! ⋆ phone sex ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ mask!kink ⋆ voice!kink ⋆ biting! ⋆ hair!pulling ⋆ marking ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ squirting! ⋆ ass!slapping⋆ small!degrading ⋆ 69!position ⋆ f!masturbation ⋆ oral (f. and m. receiving) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ face sitting! ⋆ mating press!position ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ multiple creampies! (and yeah…that’s all i think…)

summary: a masked killer returns to the town, leaving you terrified, paranoia seems to follow you everywhere you go, along with two of your classmates, who seem to grow very fond of you…

main masterlist

──────────────────────

His chest heaved, nose flaring as he pushed away the strands of hair from his eyes. His gaze was glaring, piercing, eyes formed into slits, watching the pair, just a few feet away from him. The look of disgust was unmistakable on his face and his glasses, along with his longer, blond hair thankfully shield him from the view of anyone passing by. He blended into the background, like always — unseen. He didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing his screaming thoughts. He was almost sneering, teeth gritting against each other, when he saw the guy pushing your hair behind your ear and he had to dig his nails into the wall by the act — disgusting.

You didn’t feel the immense stare, attention fully on the guy infront of you as you listened to his every word. Your lips stretched into a smile, leaning on your still closed locker, fingers playing with the strap of your bag. You didn’t know much about the guy infront of you, not that much like the person peaking from behind the corner...You were so unaware of your surroundings sometimes. You just came from your last class today, boring and to be honest quite unnecessary, but it gave you some time to perfect the text on the papers that were peaking out of your bag.

You said a small goodbye to your friends after your last class, already putting on your headphones on your ears, not wanting to hear any conversation around you as you pushed the button on your Walkman. Today was overstimulating, like any other, since you transferred to this school, but those fliers in your hands really helped you keep your mind off things. You made your way straight to the bulletin board, putting up on of the papers in your hands and in your state of unconsciousness, you were quite surprised by someone tapping you on the shoulder. Jake — one of the football players, quite sweet, giving the big smile on his face.

He was charming in a way and you found yourself not caring too much, when his tone of voice became deeper, huskier, not really looking like the party you were putting the fliers up for was the thing, why he started the conversation. However when you walked a few steps back to your locker, you were stopped by him, not being able to maybe cut the conversation short as he blocked it with his own body. It was no use to fight him. Your eyes drifted back from him to your locker and then back the nearly empty hallway, as the man before you finally stepped back a little. “See you at the party.” You said, smiling up at him, nodding.

There was no way that anyone could have missed the obvious glimmer in his eyes, when he gave you a one last smile, before leaving your side. A puff of air left you at that, turning to your locker to finally get your things. It wasn’t that long ago since you transferred in to this small town, already making couple of good friends. The party, which you were putting up fliers up for wasn’t your idea at all. You were just manipulated by your dear friend and her boyfriend to help them set this thing up, but in some way it could really help you settle down in a way…

You slammed your locker’s door shut, turning swiftly, but you only bumped into something — someone. “Oh, my god–“ You were startled for the second time, your books becoming slippery in your full hands, before they all fell to the ground with a loud slap! Your eyes immediately darted to the person you had bumped into, but you were surprised by them instantly kneeling down to pick your books up. “I’m sorry.” You said, sheepishly, kneeling down before them to pick up your things.

“It’s okay.” You looked up at the quiet sound of their voice. You recognized him — Jeongin, a quiet guy in your class. Black, rimmed glasses frame his eyes, sharp, just like his high cheekbones. You have never seen him outside of the classroom and definitely haven’t heard him talk before either. You lips parted a little, eyes going over his shaggy, blond hair, not even realizing him gathering your last book, only his own stare shaked you from your trance.

Something about his stare made shivers run down your spine, it was so…different from his whole body language and behavior. “Thank you–“ You trailed off, tearing your eyes away from his to the books in his hold. You grabbed them, missing how his long fingers reached after yours, like he wanted to graze his naked skin over yours. Your cheeks flushed still, embarrassed a little by your clumsiness and also because you could still hear the soft sound of music coming from your headphones. Your hand fumbled with the cable, shutting the suddenly embarrassing song off, before standing up. He didn’t follow your move immediately, like he was struck, glaring up at you for a few seconds, before slowly pulling himself up. “Jeongin, right?” You didn’t even know where the sudden need to talk came from and it was clear by your furrowed eyebrows.

He nodded after a few seconds, shakily pushing his glasses up his nose. “Yes…” He said, looking at you with big eyes.

You really didn’t know what came over you — just few minutes before that you were screaming to be taken from the conversation with Jake. It was probably, because you thought you would maybe safe this awkward situation, but you only seemed to make it worse. Your eyes went to the paper on top of your books, turning it for him to see. “You going to the party?” You asked, trying to diffuse the unbearable tension.

He didn’t even look at the flyer, eyes fully on your face and it made you tremble. His stare was tense, not even blinking, so he wouldn’t miss your micro expressions. “Not really my style.” Jeongin stated, eyebrows twitching and taking unnecessary amount of time to voice out the full sentence. You were almost scared by what he was going to say, with the deep breaths he took between each word.

Your lips parted, before pressing them into a tight smile. Even if you knew from your short glances that he was quite shy, you were really the one fidgeting in your spot at that moment. “Oh, okay then…see ya-“ You said, heart beating suddenly so fast at the sudden drop in his expression that you thankfully didn’t see much off as you darted away from him.

────

You really do have to take a deep breath at the memory. The more you thought of it, the more you realize what a weird vibe he had. So tense, eyes so piercing and the way they didn’t shift away from you — it was like he was tearing you apart, calculating your every move and twitch. Other than these few specks of memory, you didn’t think much about it. You only thought of it, because you thought of Jake — the guy that was supposed to be here, at this time and place, right here with you. How could you possibly be so naive to think that he would actually appear, because of you? With your eyes trailing over the room, it is obvious that you truly aren’t standing out, but maybe it is a good thing. Though…that is just yourself telling you that.

The cheap, plastic cup in your hand was already empty, your mind fuzzy enough to let you know that it was enough of the liquid gasoline. You saw multiple people pouring many different types of liqueur in the punch and you hope that you won’t be lying on the floor by the end of the night. Your good friend handed you the drink with a sweet smile, only grimacing with you at the awfully strong taste of alcohol. It wasn’t even sweet anymore, just pure bitterness and only one cup of it was enough — that can’t be said the same for your friend.

Your eyes go to the small dancefloor, small, drunken laugh falling from your lips at your friend, who spins wildly. Her boyfriend didn’t look much different from her, eyes already teary and heavy, looking back and forth between her and his friend, dressed as their team’s mascot. You can’t imagine the heat in that thing, you yourself sweating just in your miniskirt and tank top. The whole room was foggy and hot from the few people smoking in the back of the room and the heavy bodies grinding against each other. The party for sure turned out pretty well in a sense of attendance.

You scrunch up the cup in your hand, so out of your body that you even lick of the small bits of alcohol left around the rim. You were so thirsty, sweaty and gross that you somehow didn’t even care anymore. You surely weren’t looking the worst, you think, while looking across the room again. You weren’t even bored that much, enjoying your time analyzing the room that swirled wildly around you. Your gaze finds your friend again, her body now hanging lazily on her boyfriend who rubs her back softly, while laughing with the guy in the costume. Though by being so drunk and the room being so dark, you didn’t firstly register the dark clothed figure in the corner of the room.

The white, outline of what you think was its face stands out in the dark corner. The figure was clad in a black cloth, hood on its head and it even more emphasized its ghoulishly, big eyes and gaping mouth. Its face looks so out of place you can’t do anything, but stare into its eye sockets. Your whole body stills as you see it tilt its head. You know that it was definitely a person under the mask, but the simple gesture made you tremble. You feel uneasiness creep up onto you, the feeling of its glare making your skin crawl. The way it — the person just stood there, with around people who were laughing, dancing and simply happy, made the whole mood in the room change into something sour and bitter.

Your mind is probably playing tricks on you, maybe you are even imagining the whole thing. However even if you can’t see the person’s face, you just know they are staring right back at you. You have to wonder for how long. Maybe it was spying on you since the moment you stepped inside the house. Your eyes trail painfully over the figure, swallowing the lump in your throat. No one other than you seem to notice the figure. Maybe it is someone they all now, no need to introduce you.

You are suddenly startled, when a pair of hands touch your arm, jumping immediately in your spot. Your heart beats faster as you turn your head to the direction of the owner’s hands, only meeting the messy state that your friend was. The relief that washes over you is big, your hair thankfully blocking the masked figure, letting you take a full look at your friend. “I wanna go home–“ She pouts at you, whining, while digging her long nails into your arm.

You think you have never actually been happier to hear those words. “Okay, let me just use the restroom and I’ll be right back–“ To be honest you don’t want to go anywhere alone right now, but you are in desperate need of washing away the fright and sweat off your face.

Your friend is already nodding, turning back to her boyfriend like a lost puppy and you didn’t even have a chance to possibly ask her to come with you. She can’t even walk, it being really nearly impossible in her state and high heels. You slowly turn your head to the direction of the figure, their stare so hard you don’t even have to wonder if they went somewhere. Only now it seems somewhat closer to you, even if it’s still standing in its original spot. You shake off the weird feeling, head hanging low, while you walk past the people to the staircase to the second floor. Not even an inhale of breath leaves you, eyes staring at the wall, not wanting to look at its face any longer, fearing that it might imprint in your mind.

The whole world swirls around you, grabbing the railing of the staircase in a tight grip. You are thankful that the lights were dimmed, because only the blue hue makes your incoming headache worsen. Making your way up the stairs you slither around the couple that literally blocked the whole middle part of the staircase, ignoring the nasty smacks of their lips and sighs. You meet a lot of pairs like that on the second floor — grinding against each other in the hallway, sneaking in one of the rooms and you really don’t look forward to maybe accidentally catching someone in the act, while searching for a bathroom. The house seems obscurely big, the hallway going into a big circle. Then you suddenly hear the sound of toilet flushing, before a guy stumbles around the corner. You don’t waste your time, picking up your pace and zooming around the corner only to bump into someone.

In your drunken state, your whole body is jelly, legs wobbly and you are thankful that the person you had bumped into puts their hand on your lower back to stabilize you. You huff, blowing your hair out of your face, looking up at your so called savior and you instantly wished you didn’t. Staring at you so blankly and almost deadly is the same ghostly, white mask you saw just moments ago. You don’t want to think much about it for your sake, because you already can feel yourself shaking at the thought that it followed you up here. However that wouldn’t be possible, it was a dead end, no other way up here than the one you came from. It must be someone else — maybe it was a popular costume, that you didn’t know of yet.

The hold the person had on you was soft, though you can feel their covered fingertips digging into your naked back. The two black holes instead of its eyes made you want to curl up into a ball the more you looked at them, making you wiggled yourself out of its hold. The music in the background was too quiet to your liking, not to mention that there was one other you and this person in the hallway. You mumble a small apology, too quiet to even reach your own ears, before literally running to lock yourself in the nearby bathroom, but not with its eyes staring you down the whole time.

You breathe heavily, fumbling with the lock, before pressing your back to the sink. You are scared. You are terrified to even walk out of the bathroom, reminiscing the ghost haunting the hallway. However you spend a lot of time in this small, safely locked bathroom to know that your friend might not wait for you that much longer. It makes you slowly opened the door, hinges creaking and a sigh of relief leaves you, when you look into the hallway. No one was there. Maybe it truly was a ghost and you imagined all of it.

You were thankful that night for your friend not leaving without you, clinging onto her just as tightly as she was, while you made your way home. Though even if you left that house and also the last bits of the alcohol in your system, you couldn’t quite forget it. The way the simply mask sparked something in you, making you shiver in wonder and fright, thinking about what might have been going on inside their heads when they looked at you.

────

The evil and bad feeling left behind by the whole occurrence left a spot however. Just few days after the party, while you were hanging out with your now completely sober friend in the living room changed your whole mood together. Your eyes snapped to the television, stopping the scribbling of your pen as your heart only beated faster by the sudden news coming from the reporters mouth. “A sense of dread has once again found the small town Sunny Dale after a body was found inside a local home last night. The victim body was discovered with multiple stab wounds. The only evidence left behind was the victim’s phone, found beside the body. Authorities are concerned this could be linked to a string of unsolved murders from months ago, leading many to fear the return of the same killer. As the investigation unfolds, police are urging anyone with information to come forward–” Your stomach turned at the news, looking at your equally horrified friend.

A lump formed into your throat, heart jumping in your chest at the newsy “Again?” You wonder out loud, shaking your head in disbelief of what you were hearing.

“Yeah, there’s been some couple of these things showing up in the news for the past year. Everyone just thought that they maybe stopped…” Your friend’s voice was little, also looking at the television, with fearful eyes.

Moving here, you would have never thought that you would be terrified to go out of the house. Your aunt never said a word about these events, maybe to not scare you and if she didn’t tell you about it, it must have been very bad. You understand that she herself is scared to talk about such things happening here in her hometown. Maybe she thought that telling you would only bring a bad omen.

The news spread quickly and into every corner and place. You couldn’t escape it and your own deadly curiosity led you to look through few months old newspapers. The things you read made your stomach turn. Even after reading through them shortly, throwing them away from your reach right after, the whispers and gossip wouldn’t let you live. You were normally paranoid — an overthinker. Of course you were scared, just as anyone, because with you can never now if you will be next. Your aunt wasn’t much better than you, being older and all, alone here in this house till you moved here, didn’t make her feel that much safer. She needed a deep breath of fresh air, but still when she came to you with the news of spending the weekend with her long life friend — you weren’t really happy.

You tried to beg your friend to stay with you, almost embarrassed by how much paranoid and scared you were to be left alone the whole weekend. She’s couldn’t make it — she herself was going away for a small family holiday. Everyone was leaving you and your overthinking only became worst. A tragic thing happened just few houses away from yours, horror filled your every sense and since then you can’t remember the last time you slept soundly. Only more horror could keep you up at night, so you decided to go to the local Blockbuster store. Maybe it wasn’t a very good idea — looking at such movies, when the very same things were happening around you, but you are just so scared of falling asleep alone, like a child scared of the boogeyman under their bed. The only time of the day, when you can rest your eyes will have the be the moment sun rises.

You push the heavy doors to the store open, bell ringing over your head as you make your way inside. Your eyes scan through the aisles, not meeting many people in your way, tugging at the bottom of your short sleeve shirt, lip pouting at the big selection the store had for you. You really haven’t rented a movie before, just going over your friend’s house, who probably had just as a big of a collection in their house, but tou your luck she wasn’t home to lend you something. The new excitement in you is bright, a little lost of words at few of the names you come across off. You can’t really help yourself by going over to the romcom section first and strangely it was right next to the genre of movies you were here for — how funny.

Though your heart aches for a sweet romantic movie that would leave you with butterflies in your stomach, it still wouldn’t be enough for you to not fall asleep. You have to wonder if you aren’t just torturing yourself at this point, but you can’t ignore the fact that maybe someone might get inside your house, when you would happen to fall asleep. You visibly shiver at the thought, looking away from the section of old horror movies. Though you liked the vintage filmography, you think that not even a single one could make you shiver in fear.

Your fingers trail over the row of paranormal horror movies, watching them slowly turn into more slasher. You stop at a particular one, known and already seen by you, but you can’t lie that you weren’t terrified the first time you had watched it. Pulling out the cassette, you stare down at the bold name, completely unaware of your surroundings and the shadow looming over your hunched up figure.

“Looking for something?”

You jump back at the sudden voice, stumbling just a little and bumping into the movies before you. Turning to the owner of the voice, you sigh a little at the familiar face. “Oh, hi Seungmin.” The dark, longer hair on him can’t mask away the obvious glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Your surprise doesn’t flatter, when your gaze falls down to the tag on his blue shirt. “Not really-“ You trail off, shaking your head at your own thoughts.

The whole situation that happened felt you overthinking nonstop — however you don’t really recall hearing anything about him working here. Almost everyone goes here and everyone likes to talk, though you don’t know what they would even talk about, when it comes to Seungmin. He was quiet, always in the corner with the bothered look on his face, never talking to anyone if not needed, other than…the dirty, bleached blonde you come across off just few days ago. Maybe these are just accidents, maybe it’s the universe pushing you to them to finally make more friends — you are definitely overthinking.

Being so lost in your thoughts, you are startled again by Seungmin reaching over your shoulder to tap at the paper, cover on the cassette. “Evil dead, huh?” You can hear the smile in his words, smelling his minty breath from the gum he is chewing. “You like scary movies?”

You frown a little and mainly by his try of making a conversation — you ignore it. “A little.“ You shrug, looking at the cover one last time before deciding to put it back. “Just trying to find something to keep me up at night.” You answer, turning around to look at the other side of the aisles only to be blocked by his taller frame.

You breathe in his cologne, his stare making you fidget as your back falls lightly back on the aisles to make some space between your bodies, but he didn’t even move an inch by the sudden proximity. “Why?” His voice is softer than you expected, eyes widely looking up at him as he tilts his head down at you. “You like being scared?”

Your lips parted at that question, lost for words for some reason. “No, it’s just–“ Your own eyes save you from answering, when you see a flash of red on the small television in the corner of the store. Even here, in a fairly empty Blockbuster store the news can’t seem to leave you alone. You can fear the obvious stare on your sudden change of expression and it makes you feel embarrassed by the very clear face of fear on your features. Glancing back at him quickly, you want to laugh at your whole situation. “I just don’t want to fall asleep that’s all.” You say, stepping away from him to finally rest your eyes on the new selection.

“That’s understandable.” Seungmin nods, eyes turning away from the television back to you, watching your own eyes skim through the movies.

You then thankfully see the next person walking up at you from the other side, giving your pour heart a rest. “Heard that the guy was stabbed 37 times.” Says the person and you do a double take at the familiar voice, your small assumption being only being proven correct, when you see the shaggy, blonde next to you. The horrible words don’t particularly move you, because you are somehow very intrigued by Jeongin’s own work uniform. Have you really not noticed them until now?

You hear Seungmin click his tongue at his friend’s words. “Oh, really, Jeongin?” You don’t see the looks being shared behind you, because when you stop trailing your hand over the multiple choices for your cinema night, you just notice how much the two of them are close to your body. A small silence rings in the air, your eyes falling on Seungmin’s hand right next your head. You can feel his breath on your cheek, when he boldly stretches his arm to touch a one specific film in the shelf. It wouldn’t be considered bold if he wasn’t so close to you, not when his fingers brush your thigh. Your eyes watch his hand and the same fingers, playing with the paper case a little too specifically. You nearly gasp at how he trailed his fingers across the movie’s cover, this whole thing happening just right before your pubic bone. Instinctively you move back a little to give him room, but you only feel your arm graze Jeongin’s chest. “If you don’t want to fall asleep…” Straightening his back, your gaze meets Seungmin’s with bashfulness. “Watch Nightmare on Elm Street–“ He says, waiving the movie at you.

“It’s not that scary for me.” Your throat is dry, voice scratchy and you really want to dive into the pile of horror right now. Trying to ignore the even more unbearable stare from the other, you try to distract yourself by looking through the selection, picking up the very familiar one.

You hear the scoff on your right side right when you grab it, feeling their intense stares momentarily flicker to the movie in your hand. “Really?” Seungmin exclaims, definitely judging your choice and taste.

Shrugging your shoulders, you tap your fingers on the paper, going over the outline of the small, red words — You’ll wish it was only make-belief. “Yeah — I mean dolls are sometimes scary.” You say, truthfully and you hear the blonde next to shuffle a little.

“It’s funny.” You look up at him, confused by such word and you now truly realize how close he is to you. You want to back away, but you are cornered — no one can safe you from their claws.

“What?”

Tilting his head, you can see his sharp eyes shimmer under the light, that reflects lightly in his glasses. “The movie?” He said it so obviously, like your question was so stupid to be even spoken.

Your eyebrow’s furrowed, looking up at him. “Well, if you find slashers funny…” You trail off, not really sure what to say back.

The look you received is so sharp that it makes you shiver, feeling Seungmin staring the same way at the back of your head. The air around you three is suffocating, but you seem the be the one most effective by it. The way they stand so close to you, surrounding your body not just with their own by also with their whole beings is nerve racking — and somehow not in a bad way. They both seem to be really comfortable in getting into your personal bubble, their hands already tearing it away from your own hands. This whole interaction is unusual for you and it is only weirder, because you know about their dislike towards people at your school. So, why are they so interested in picking up a small and quite pointless conversation — why are their so interested in you?

You are lost in thought, though still highly aware of the two bodies on either side of you. You found it hard to breathe, throat closing, so aware of everything around you — their breathing, the smell of their cologne, the rustle of their clothes when they tried to move even closer to you and even the soft sounds of footsteps coming behind you. “Y/N!” You are pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of your name and somehow that made the pair move too, twisting their bodies to see, who saved you from their hold.

“Jake!” You gasp out. You didn’t plan to sound so excited by his appearance, but it felt like you could finally breathe calmly.

You can see his attention shift a little, looking over your shoulders at the pair and you can basically see the small uncomfortableness in him from their behavior. Taking a one step closer to the brunette in reflex, your feet stumble over one another. It felt wrong to do that. “Hi!” Jake greets you, already feeling the awkwardness of this situation. Normal people would’ve left right? Or maybe just give you two some privacy, but Jeongin and Seungmin don’t move an another inch, silently staring at the both of you.

“Hi…” Your lips lift up into a small, that falls quicker than anticipated, your nails slightly digging into the paper case in your hand. There’s small beat of silence between you two, hoping that he might talk first as he was the one that approached you, but he seemed very interested in the two men behind you. Coughing little into your hand, seems to get his attention back, but he still looked a little…uninterested. “You weren’t at the party?” You ask, nearly cringing at the reality of being stared down, when talking to him.

Jake is little taken back, blinking at you. “Hm, yeah — no, I was.” He says and you frown at his words.

“Oh! Okay…”

“Yeah…” He scratches his neck, jumping in his spot a little, before a sudden, wide smile breaks off on his face. You watch his hand, way before he puts it on your shoulder, tugging you into him rather than coming to get you, like he was intimidated to approach you . You do let him put his arm around your shoulder, taking you to walk a few steps forward, away from your past companion. His touch feels a little heavy, but the small brush of your arm, when you pass Seungmin, makes you look at him, catching his eye, before you are being turned back to the guy next to you, who you realize was talking your ear off the whole time. “Y/N…I was wondering, if you want to come over to my place tomorrow.”

You froze in your spot, just few steps in your small walk. “I don’t know…” You heard the hidden meaning in his words, but you are not so sure if you want to go to an unknown guy’s house at the moment.

“It will be fun.” He says, almost whining, looking like a small child not being given his favorite toy. His arm falls off your shoulders thankfully at that, only to tap at the movie in your hands. “We can watch–“ He tilts his head sideways to read the title and his lack of movie knowledge makes you stunned. “Child’s play.”

Shaking your hand, you pull the movie from his fingers to your chest. ”No, Jake. I kind of already have something.” You say, wanting to end this conversation short, because you can feel the heat of two pairs of eyes on your head.

The look on your face definitely is clear enough for him to realize that you are not changing your mind — or was it the judging eyes of the two friends behind you? “Alright then…see you around.” He says, smiling lightly, making his eyes wrinkle and you want to almost stop him from going away from you for a split second.

However you only watch his disappearing figure, trailing your eyes over his body and you know that under different circumstances you might have maybe come to his house, but right know you do not want to leave your house and go somewhere you haven’t been before — you don’t even feel completely safe in your own home to begin with. You sigh at yourself, gaze still staring blankly before you, till you practically feel the seeping pressure of eyes on you again. You don’t even turn around, not even trying to walk away to maybe just disappear and find a different store to satisfy you, because it felt like you wouldn’t be able to get away from them anyway.

“Your boyfriend?” You recognized Jeongin’s voice and you are a little taken back by the rough edge it had to it.

You turn to the side just a little, looking at him, before glancing at Seungmin behind him. “What?” You are not sure if it was meant for his question again or for the sight of the dark haired, brunette leaning casually on his body. You are met with silence at that, realizing how your eyes were going between the two of them, till they meet Jeongin’s again. So dark — he doesn’t even blink, while looking at you, also noticing his lips that formed into thin line. “We are just talking–“

“Yeah, like back at the lockers?”

Frowning at the harsh tone, the glare send your way is blocked by his friend, who steps before him. Standing before you with his back straight, you only know can feel the true effect he has — confident, yet unbothered, but definitely thriving in your face, when he gently puts his hand on the movie in your hands. It is still laying on your chest and your lips fall apart as he wraps his hand around it, fingers grazing the skin of your chest. You let him grab it, watching him put it behind his back, before he pulls out a different case that instantly hands to you. “Pick this one.” Seungmin says, grinning a little as you look a the second part of the Chucky series. “It’s more gory.”

You don’t want to look ungrateful, so you grab it, smiling a little at him, though you are not sure really what to say to that. “Thanks, I like the first one the best though…” You awkwardly mention him to give it to you, thinking that maybe he would just hand it to you, but you basically have to lean over him to grab it from behind his back. You know that he does it on purpose, playing with you, but it still feels so new from him to do that. You think you have never heard him talk this much before, not to mention his friend behind him. When you go grab your desired movie from his hands, you learned that they are empty, awkwardly wrapping your hand around his. Sucking in a breath at the quite intimate touch, you feel Jeongin poking you with the case you were searching for, showing you that he was the one holding it the whole time. A short, dry laugh leaves you at your and theirs doings, not missing how the blonde basically shoves the case in your hands, separating you from his friend. “Thanks…I think this will keep me busy this weekend.“ You say pulling the two first Chucky movies to your chest, taking a step back from them.

They both look you over, completely without any shame dragging their eyes over your body and it makes you tug a little at the edge of shirt that has ridden up. You watch Seungmin tilt his head slowly, turning back to his friend who hands him a new cassette from behind his back. You actually wanted nothing more than to escape this unbearable tension, but you become curious about the movie being handed to you. “We have this new movie.” He hands it to you, making you glance at the cover. “Check this out-“

“Just got released-“ Says Jeongin, taking a few steps closer to you, joining his friend’s side, while they take in your reaction.

With your eyebrows furrowed you look at the name — Fear: Together forever. Or else. Flipping it over you read quickly through the summary, before looking back at the front, eyes scanning the face of the man on the cover and you nod in realization. “Oh, yeah. I heard about it.” Glancing at the two of them, you try to keep your cool at their unblinking stares. “Some kind of psycho boyfriend–“ You say your own version of the movie’s plot, playing with the cassette in your hand to distract yourself a little.

“Oh – so the spoilers got to you-“ Jeongin doesn’t seem particularly sad about that, but you can see the small pout on his face.

Shrugging, you look down at the movie. “Well, it’s kind of obvious you know…” You put the movie together with the other two in your hands, not really against of seeing something new and you also don’t, for some reason, want to let them and their small help down. You didn’t plan to finish your sentence, as it was to you kind of obvious, but when you look up at their faces, they only stare at you more longingly, waiting. “I mean — look at him.” You flip the cassette to let them take a look at the man on the cover. “You can see the crazy in his eyes.” You say, before nodding at them. “I’ll take it.”

You want to almost ask them what’s up with them, see if they maybe had a problem with you by their nonstop glares — but you are not sure if you are reading the emotion on their faces right. They don’t say anything, only turning around to lead you back to the counter. Seungmin takes the lead, making you walk up next to him, while Jeongin keeps himself behind you. They don’t seem to be quite fond of being away from you for some unknown reason and you don’t want to say that relief washed over you, when you hand the dark brunette the three movies you picked.

As he scanned them, each peep reminded you that you will be free of their presence, till you will have to return them. “How much?” You ask, realizing you didn’t even look at the rent money even once, digging through your bag, hand grabbing the scrunched up money.

“It’s on the house.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, looking up at Seungmin, who stands behind the counter. “Oh! Oh, no that’s okay, it’s just like ten dollars-“ You say, waving awkwardly at him to know you are completely fine paying for yourself, but the man before you only shoves the movies to you. Staring at him for a second, blinking, your heart skips a beat at the sudden change of emotion on his face. It makes you nervously mumble a small thank you, somehow knowing that there was no use to argue with him.

Hands falling on to the pile of movies, your fingers graze his, staring with wide eyes as he swipes his ring finger over the back of your hand. His touch feels hot, leaving a tingling sensation in your lower tummy and you sigh out shakily at such bold move. You basically rush to pull the cassettes to you, but you can’t take your eyes off his, even when you back up. However you are unaware of your surroundings once again, because you only bump into the blonde who’s been standing behind you the whole time. Your back meets his chest for second too long, shock striking you at how quietly he was able to be unspotted by you. Mumbling a small apology, which you don’t even hear yourself, you turn on your heels, legs quick to run of the store, so you can escape their eyes and their hold. And you finally took a deep breath you so needed, ignoring the obvious and familiar feeling in your chest and lower tummy.

────

Sweat drips down your temple, short puff of air leaving as you close your eyes at the feeling of the night’s cold breeze fanning over your face. You take in the smell of wet grass, mixed with the humid air. You can feel your tank top sticking to your flushed, hot skin, your shorts gathered between your thighs as you lean out of your bedroom window. The night was quiet, no sound other the few rustles of trees and crickets — it reminded you of how alone you now were. The shower which you took just minutes was cold, but it did nothing against the awfully hot, spring night, though the few whiffs of colder breeze reaching you felt blissful.

You expected for it to be worst, but somehow the worst thing of being alone right now was that you couldn’t distract yourself from the awful heat. Your room’s window was unopened for the whole day and it was basically unable to breathe in it, so you decided to rather sleep downstairs in the living room. You take a one last breath, before pushing your window shut, taking your light, fluffy blanket with you before walking out of your bedroom.

The sound of voices coming from downstairs made it a little easier for you to ignore your thoughts that you tried so hard to keep locked. With a breathless sigh you walk up to the couch, plopping yourself on it and whining almost as the cushions sticks to your skin. You were somewhere else right now, lost in thought, gazing up at the ceiling, imagining a night sky over you — imagining being somewhere else. The commercial playing on the television ends, hearing the happy background music cutting short.

Your head tilts forward, eyes falling on the movie recommended to you on the top of the pile on the coffee table. The eyes of the actor stare at you from behind the woman’s blonde hair and you can’t help, but get lost in them. Your mind goes back to the pair helping you, looking quite excited — well, you only had a feeling, because they didn’t truly show any emotions on their face. Your own curiosity makes you pick up the case, pulling out the cassette. You for a second just flip it in your hand, expecting it, before you shuffle down the sofa, not even bothering to get and walk to the television.

The voice of the reporter is quiet, getting louder as you crawl up to it and the change of volume makes your ears pick up the words leaving her mouth. “Authorities are still investigating the recent resurgence of a killer, who terrorized the small town Sunny Dale a few months ago. While there has been no trace of evidence leading to the identity of the person responsible, the latest update to this cases is deeply disturbing.” You freeze in your spot, eyes unblinkingly looking at the humming television before you. “Authorities now confirmed that investigators have found a new, unused Ghostface mask near a victim’s house. The mask, which is widely available in stores selling horror-themed merchandise, was likely placed there intentionally by the perpetrators. Police are urging the public to stay vigilant — if you see anyone acting suspicious and wearing this mask contact—“ A choked sound leaves you, watching the screen cut to a picture of said mask — the one which you have seen, the one you saw a week ago.

You shakily turn off the television, not wanting to hear another word. The quiet that follows after is deadly — pinching you, making goosebumps appear all over your body. You have seen it — you were so close to it…you touched it. Nausea rises in your gut, looking back at the house phone next to the couch, contemplating. Should you call the police or not? Maybe it was really just a coincidence that you happen to see someone wearing that mask. Maybe the police are already getting calls from others — were they really that desperate that they needed help to catch this person? You know that even if you called, it wouldn’t be any use. Literally everyone was there at the party and not just people from your school — it can be anyone.

Then your doorbell rings, a small yelp leaving from you, making your hand fly to your mouth to silence it. You need to calm down…the thought of the killer being at the party was really unlikely, because they were people present — nothing happened at the party, nothing. It was just…someone. In your state of shock which you slowly, but surely get out of, makes you jump back to present, eyes turning to the main door. You completely forgot that you ordered a dinner.

However you are still cautious, standing up and making your way to the front. The cold floor helps you wake up a little, feet paddling across the hallway, before leaning on to the door to look through the peephole. No one…even if that made you feel better, you are highly aware of how weird it is that the delivery man you anticipated isn’t there. You glance down at the keys in the door, still locked and safe from the outside world. It’s such a stupid thing to do and you really think about it, but soon enough you are unlocking the door and pushing it open just a little to see what’s waiting for you on the other side.

No one is standing there, nothing, but the pitch black night, till your eyes drift slowly to the doorstep where surely your food was. Confused, you slowly become more curious than afraid, opening the door a little more to kneel down and inspecting the box of pizza. It is almost funny how such thing could make you fear for your life. Because of the small light coming from the inside, you catch the small note on top of the box just before it could fly away. ‘Sorry for leaving your food on the ground, had to go!’ A deep frown falls over your face, because in what world would a delivery man give you your food, without even letting you pay for. Must have been in a real rush to let you have your food for free…

You don’t want to put much thought to it. It was just few dollars and maybe there was a party somewhere going on, where they would definitely get their money’s worth back. Taking the box with you, you are not that angry of not paying as your hand touches the bottom of the cold box — you are too unbothered to go and heated up right now. Shutting the main door, you lock it, before finally going to the living room to watch the movie waiting for you. Putting the box down on the table, you put one slice of the cold pizza in your mouth, fumbling with the cassette and television for a second, before you flop back onto the couch.

The movie — well, it does in sort of way have you on the edge just few minutes into it. It is interesting and almost realistic in some way, making you get real deep into it. You lay in the corner of the couch, biting down on your fingers, watching the main characters interact with each other in a dark lit club. The lead, the main antagonist has a specific maneuvers that you find quite interesting — charming, yet in his eyes you can see something hidden in them…something dark. As you are so into the movie, eyes staring dead straight on the television, the ringing of the house phone right next to your ear certainly startles you to death.

A soft gasp flies past your lips, putting your hand over your racing heart and turning to the ringing phone next to you. You grab it without any hesitation, thinking that maybe your aunt is trying to check up on you or maybe it was your friend ready to talk your ear off — definitely not silence. “Hello?” You ask, gripping the phone in your hand and pressing it right against your ear tightly.

“Hello?” Says a voice on the other side of the line.

You shake your head a little, not recognizing the voice. “Yes?” You say, eyes still on the movie.

“Who’s this?”

You press your lips together, straightening your back a little. The voice is scratchy, yet deep, an unusual small hum every time it speaks. “Y/N.” You say, not really wanting to say your name, but what harm can it do? Maybe the person just delayed a wrong number.

There’s a small shuffling on the other line, before a small click follows. “Oh, Y/N–“ The person says your name sweetly, making goosebumps rise on your skin. It was whiny, so familiar, like the person knew you.

“Jake, is that you?” You ask, sitting up a little. His voice today sounded a little different than you remembered, but maybe it was just the phone distorting it. “How do you know my number?”

“Oh — got a friend, who asked your friend…” A small pause follows and you don’t know why but the way he speaks to you in this voice strikes something in you or maybe it was just the scene playing in the movie. “Want to talk to you–“

“Okay…what do you want to talk about?” You ask, eyes still on the television, yet your attention is now completely on him. Did your friend really give him your number? But it is a little unusual that she would be able to keep it secret — maybe she just wanted you to have fun on your weekend.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You smile a little at the question. “Oh, but you already know that one — Child’s play.”

A long sigh leaves his lips and it is almost like you can feel it on your ear. “Sorry — I seem to forgot.” This whole unexpected moment makes you tingle a little in excitement, distracting you from everything around you and you can’t help but feel effected by the change of voice.

“That’s okay.” You say. “What’s yours?”

“Guess.”

Humming lightly, you truly think about your answer. Jake’s face flashes in your mind, but it somehow is so blurry that you can’t think of a movie that would fit him — so, you focused on the voice in your ear instead. “I don’t know…I fear you have to give me a hint–“

“You are smart girl, Y/N, surely you can think of killer in a white mask–“

The words strike you a little too deeply, because your mind firstly shows you the ghostly mask. The two black holes it had for its eyes, before you quickly shut down your thoughts. “Halloween?” You say, uncertain as an another slasher with a similar mask flashes before your eyes, but this one spoke to you mostly.

You hear a click of a tongue on the other line at your answer. “Clever girl.” The nickname makes you unusually warm, your legs moving against each other, shifting the thin blanket down your thighs. “What are you doing right now?”

“Ehm — nothing much, just watching a movie.” You just now glance back to the said movie, already a little confused what the characters were doing and why— you are getting a little distracted.

“Alone?” The raspy voice sends chills down your spine. “Want me to come over? I don’t want you to be scared–“

“I’m not scared…right now.” You say, frowning a little, trying to defend yourself and thankfully your voice is steady.

You hear a sound then, close to a coo, before there is more shuffling. “Is it because of me?” There is obvious teasing tone in his voice, but you can’t help yourself, but feel amused by his tactics.

“Yeah, your voice is…soothing in a way.” You can’t quite find the right word to describe it, but you definitely can think of a word which is even closer than the one you said.

Small silence fills the line, listening closely to the static, ear trying to pick up any noise you could. This small pause only highlights the tension rising in the room, making you fumble with the left strap of your tank top and just as you did that — like he could see you, he speaks up again, but now there is not so much amusement. “Y/N, tell me…” You can’t even make a sound, so he continues, a little nervous about what he might say — but you certainly wouldn’t have guessed it right. “What are you wearing?” He asks, breathing into the speaker, the sigh making your pure heart skip a beat.

Your eyes widened, mouth hanging open. “What? I-I–“ This definitely wasn’t part of your plan for the night, neither getting a quite firstly innocent call to only lead to this. Your body responses truthfully the moment those words are spoken, thighs rubbing against each other, feeling the hem of your shorts digging into your center. You battle a little, wondering if you should play along and maybe enjoy this call or if you should just hang up. You definitely wouldn’t care if you did, you wouldn’t care that you basically would chicken out of phone sex, but — the way your bottom half starts to tingle, you tell yourself to relax and simply enjoy. “Not much?” You cough out as your voice becomes strained.

A low, long hum echoes from the other side, spreading tingles across your slicked skin. “Not much…” He repeats and you hear the fake pout in his voice. “Describe what you are wearing.”

You know where this conversation is leading to, but you are still careful with your words, a little self conscious, like he could just see your barely covered body. “Just a tank top and shorts…there are hearts on them.” Biting your lip at the last sentence, you wait for his reaction and maybe next request.

“How cute.” He almost whispers and you can basically feel his every breath in your ear. “Wish I could see you–“ You think you hear a small mumble at the end, but you don’t pick up what it is — probably just something in the background.

You close your eyes for a second, the movie still playing long forgotten as you slowly pull down your blanket to pool at your feet. Air hits your hot skin, damp in sweat and something else. You pick your courage, licking your dried lips, before speaking. “And what would you do if you did?” Your voice is no longer collected and cool, it’s breathy and whiny and you feel heat rushing to your face at your own voice.

You seem to catch him off guard — or so you thought, only to be reminded that you might not be that seductive as you thought you. “Do you really want to know, Y/N?” There’s an edge to his voice, giving you the last chance to back away, but you know that it is too late for that, because you can already feel slick forming between legs.

“Yes.”

Shakily responding you let the phone fall down shoulder, pressing your ear to it, while your fingers tug at the cushion beneath you. Waiting, though not so patiently, your eyes drift around the room, like it is the first time ever, your mind empty and fuzzy. Another click is heard in your ear, before a sigh is heard, making your hands tighten around the leather couch. “Pull your hair off your neck…” Your eyes close ever so slightly at those words, ear becoming numb from how much you try to feel his small breaths across your skin. “Then kiss down your neck, teasing you, just a little, till I would get a little lower–“ Your breath hitches, rubbing your legs together, unshamefully aroused and you really don’t seem to care anymore. “Do something for me Y/N.” You nod your head, like he could see you, eyes blinking open. “Follow my voice.”

Your white knuckles, that grip the cushion turn into their natural color, as you slowly trail your hand over your body to your hair. You do just as he said, gathering the strands of your hair and pushing them off your shoulders, fingers dancing across your neck. “Okay…a little lower–“ You are quiet, bashful from the fact that only a voice and words could make you feel like this. The more your hand travels lower, the more your nails scratch at your skin — going over your neck, collarbones, till they pinch on the swell of your breasts.

“Yes–“ You gasp at the moan leaving him, whimpering softly to yourself, while you play with the hem of your tank top. “Lower.” You follow his word, fingers getting caught a little in the cleavage of your top, dragging the fabric down with your movements, till it snaps back. “Lower.” His voice suddenly becomes rougher, hearing the shuffling of fabric on the other side as your hand meets your stomach. “Right there Y/N — yeah, there we go–“ You sigh sharply, head tilting back a little as your hand meets the waistband of your sleep short, stopping just over your mound. “Tell me…how do you feel.”

“I — hot, I feel hot.” You say, sighing breathlessly. You do not move your hand and touch yourself, the build up making you feel so much better than you thought it would and you do not want to disobey him. “I–I can’t-“

“Can’t what, sweetheart?”

“Wait – please, I need it.” You don’t recognize yourself — so needy and ready to burst at any moment. You can feel your nipples hardening, goosebumps appearing on your sweaty skin, thighs already slick with your cum.

“Touch yourself.” You can hear the words, but you for second can’t hear hear anything else other than the low hum in your ears. Your hand trails lower, pushing the material of your shorts to the side before you dip just a little into your leaking cunt, moan ripping out of you. “Just like that, Y/N. Keep going–“

You frown in pleasure, two of your fingers swiping across your folds, spreading your legs to fully touch your already puffy clit. “Oh, my god…” You have never been so swollen like this before, the hood of your clit puffed up, hips jumping, when you finally push down on it. You circle your fingers across it, smearing your juices across your whole bottom fall and the nasty wet, smack can definitely be heard through the speaker, when a groan fills your ear.

“You sound so good–“ Something rattles on the other side and you through out the noise hum in delight from such praise. “Come one, baby, put those little fingers inside your pussy — you sound like you need it–“ Curse falls your lips, whining a little when your hand leaves your clit, but as you put your hand lower, fingers just dipping inside of you, your palm grazes you, making you grind down greedily. “Fuck that pretty pussy – want to hear it.” Your mind is all over the place, too lost in the pressure, because you only hear a click of a tongue again, when your fingers slide hallway inside you. “I want to hear it.” He voices out each word, making your eyes screw shut at such filthy demand.

However your other hand is already moving to the phone, before you can even stop yourself, losing power over your own body. Grabbing it in your shaking hand, you want so desperately to lift your hips so your fingers would go deeper, but you wait till the phone is placed right on your upper thigh. The fact of hearing you so closely — how each inch of your fingers disappear into you, makes a wet sound and it should be embarrassing, but it only makes you moan louder, hoping that he can hear you.

When your hole meets the back of your knuckles, you scissor your fingers, spreading yourself open. Your slick is already pooling down your ass, creating a wet spot on your blanket, with the first curl of your fingers. You chase after the pleasure, clit bumping into your palm as you pull out your fingers a little to only push them back in, hitting the small squishy spot inside you. Gripping the phone tightly, it shakes from your strong hold, mouth falling open. You are dripping wet — so slippery that you fuck yourself just a little harder to feel more of the sickening pleasure. You are letting yourself go, moaning loudly, head tilting back, feeling your tummy rumble and when a small crack of the floor is heard you realize that you almost forgotten the phone in your hand.

Your hand doesn’t stop, when you put the phone back to your ear, whimpering at the quiet moan from the other side. “Fuck — you sound even better than I imagined…” Your whimper mixes with his own sound of pleasure, wondering if he might be doing the exact same thing as you, but hearing him becoming so whiny and quiet is really making you lose it. “Keep going–“

“Please talk more…I’m close.” Gasping sharply, when the tips of your fingers graze the one sweet spot, your hips hump your hand wildly. Your eyes are shinning with small tears of pleasure, ready to plead if he asked you to.

“Yeah?” You can hear the amusement in his voice. “Gonna come all over yourself? Just from hearing my voice? Fuck, you are such a slut Y/N–” Nodding dumbly, the name only makes your eyes squeeze tightly shut, concentrating on the pleasure, ignoring your numbing hand. You place the phone to your shoulder again to only sneak your now free hand to your breast. The extra stimulation almost too much, pinching a little at your hardened nipple. “Yeah, keep squeezing your tits just like that–“

You pause, slowly realizing the words he had spoken. Your hand releases your breast, now laying flat across it, the other still moving a little. “H-how do you know?” You ask, voice quiet, but you know it’s not that much from the pleasure anymore.

“I can see you, silly girl.” The deep chuckles makes your heart stop, freezing in your spot, eyes staring wildly across the seemingly empty living room.

“Where?” Your breathing becomes heavy, pulling your fingers away from your center and sitting up slowly on the couch.

“Come and see — should have locked your window–“ Your eyes widened at the words, hearing the sound of beeping, signaling the call has been ended. You wanted to scream, cry, but in your state of shock and in this fight or flight situation, you don’t think twice and rush to pull yourself on your feet, throwing the phone somewhere, not really caring about the crack you hear, when it hits the floor. You are shaking, chest tight as you run on your trembling feet to the front door only to be met with a sight that almost makes you fall in despair.

Ghostface — it is standing right in front of you, right before the door leading to your freedom. It stares at you, listening how your naked feet squeak on the polished floor, making you stumble from your sudden pause. The way you fall a little forward makes him jump at you, but you quickly dodge his hands, turning around to run to the opposite side and away from him. However as you ran through the hallway, passing the staircase, you notice someone standing in the middle of the stairs.

A cry leaves you, thinking firstly you have lost your mind, when your eyes meet another person dressed as the ghostly figure. Your first thought of going up the stairs to maybe jump of your window, which you knew was definitely now opened was forgotten. This one seems to be even faster as he runs down the stairs, hand shooting through the wooden railing to grab your passing form, but he was only able to graze your shoulder with its leather glove. You can’t catch your breath properly, feet sliding across the floor when you turn the corner to the kitchen. The thought of maybe grabbing a weapon was there, but seeing the other door to the kitchen seemed as a safer option.

Your body slams onto the door, sliding through the small gap, before slamming it in their faces. Your eyes stare around the living room and the couch which you were pleasuring yourself on to its voice just minutes ago — you don’t want to reminisce it. Your feet drag you back to the main door, turning the knob, only to stupidly realize you have locked it. However, when your eyes fall down the keyhole, your keys were not there. The window is your only option now…

You can taste blood on your tongue, adrenaline pulsing through you, when you turn around to the staircase, catching a glimpse of the two figures closing the distance between you. The carpet scratches you, burning, like your already strained muscles as you jump onto the stairs, nearly falling to your knees by the reckless move. That also almost gets you caught — dragging yourself up your feet before one of them can catch your ankle. The loud, creaking stairs, makes you wonder if you truly are being haunted, because how long have they been here with you? The stairs never seem to end, their incoming stumps making you cry out, rush pulsing in your veins. Your foot just barely touches the carpet of the second floor, before you feel a cold hand on your other. You can’t even blink — it already drag you to its body.

Your hands save you from the fall, a loud thud! echoing in the hallway. You can’t anymore — you can’t…You feel the hand leave you — you hear the slow footsteps coming up the stairs, the two figure’s watching you desperately try and crawl away from them, but you are only flipped onto your back. Hands find your shoulders, pushing you to you to the ground and you gasp loudly at the close proximity of the masked person. You can almost see an emotion behind the darkness…

You don’t fight back anymore, excepting your fate that you still have to guess, because you can’t find any weapon in their hands. The one holding you releases you suddenly, standing up to its fully height. You whimper softly, staring through you eyelashes at the pair looming over your shaking body. The more you look at them, the more you feel nauseous, afraid, tears quickly gathering in your eyes — but at that reaction they pull their hands up to their faces, making you momentarily quiet and still. With shock you watch them wrap their hands around the back of their masks, before pulling them off their heads.

Your whole word turns dark, heart stopping at the familiar heads of hair, thinking you must be out of your mind, but then they reveal themselves fully — Jeongin and Seungmin, staring down at you with crazed smiles, breathing heavily from your small fight. “Oh, my god–“ You hiccup a little, shaking your head in disbelief. Your body shakes, looking at them. Their hair is a mess, noticing the blonde without his glasses and wonder if he ever needed them to begin with. Seungmin takes just a one step closer, making your eyes snap to him, backing up a little. From the corner of your eyes you can see your open bedroom door, but you are not dumb enough to try your luck and also, even with just a small glance, the brunette noticed it. “You killed all of those people–“ You are horrified, disgusted, but you couldn’t take your eyes off them.

They cooed — they cooed at you like they were seeing a small injured puppy, the familiar sound unwillingly making heat go over you. Your lips fall shut, watching how they shake their heads at you. “Those weren’t people, Y/N — we did for you.” Their voices blend into each other, the last sentence making shivers go down your spine. The way they are not phased, looking normal about this whole situation, makes your head hurt.

“W-what?” You can’t cry, only sniffle in confusion. Your eyes trail over their figures clad in long drape of black cloth, nothing, but their masks in their hands. You can’t believe it — you would have ever guessed it. Though maybe your body responding to their stares and need to press their bodies to yours just few hours ago told you enough. They had no weapons, remembering how they only tried to catch and not physically harm you, but how can you be sure of their intentions? Maybe they are hiding their knifes under their cloaks, maybe trying to scare you and play with your mind, before they do it. How can you trust their words right now, when they lied to you the whole time?

Because of the way they appear so calm, it makes your chest stop heaving so hard and fast, catching your breaths that you didn’t take when you were being chased. You watch them both lower themselves to crouch before your layed out form and in reflex your legs you try to kick them down, but you are not fast enough. Both of them wrap their hands around your legs, pressing them down as you trash. Their holds are strong, yet you don’t feel big pressure, only the small scratch of their leather gloves.

The act makes you stop, deciding to regain the small strength left in you, if they decide differently about your fate, but looking back at their faces — now without both of their masks, raw and real, they show you a small spark of warmness in their cold eyes. “Jake–“ Jeongin says his name with displeasure, sneer match Seungmin’s and you listen their confession with choked breath. “The man that was this close to kidnapping you back in winter–“ You shake your head, trying to remember and they see the fight against your own memories from the look on your features. “You weren’t paying attention — like always. Scratching off at your shopping list, completely unaware of the near danger.”

You don’t want to believe their words, but they sound so real. You vividly remember the day, feeling like any other — were they really there? Watching, spying on you, keeping you safe. You realize at that the obvious truth that they have been watching and following you all along. Your mind goes back to the day at the lockers — how you bumped into Jeongin, thinking it was just an accident. It makes you go back today, how his lips formed into a snear, when Jake showed up. ‘Like back at the lockers?’, he said with disgust, eyes trained on the leaving figure of the football player.

“But — I only know you for half a year!” You fire back, almost spitting in their faces and you for some reason don’t talk against the thought of them saving you — they really looked and sounded believable and what use would it be to lie to you now? “What about the other people?” You whisper, trying to push away from their hold, but they only pull you back to them.

“Just a small practice…” Says Seungmin, sniffing a laugh with his friend and you look at them completely horrified. “Though they surely will not be missed, I give you that–“

“Do you really think that we did those things only out of pleasure?” The blonde continues, not letting you have your word. “Those things you called people were nothing more than a waste.” Venom drips from his mouth, eyes glaring into yours.

You don’t know what to say. Again they could be just lying to your face, but why would they? They already showed you how much trust they had in you by pulling of their masks. The news didn’t say anything about the victims, it was always the same — the victim was a residence of the town. Not telling the public what the victim might have done to deserve such punishment, maybe to seek fear in order for the public to began their own search. If the people knew that the killers — Jeongin and Seungmin were targeting only bad people, it would only turn on the authorities. You know that some fanatics would say that they are saviors and in a sense they are. They both saved you from that man which you didn’t even know off, they were taking care of you. No…you can’t be thankful for them, they still hurt people.

“You think that makes you better?” Even the words felt heavy on your tongue, trying to fight back the obvious — they saved you. “You think you will redeem yourself of what you both did?”

The brunette shakes his head instantly, smiling with the other, just as he wraps his hand around your chin. “No…you will redeem us.” His breath fans over your face, lips tingling at the familiar smell of mint. The tone of his voice makes a small sound escape your mouth, screwing your eyes shut in embarrassment.

You hear Jeongin leaning closer to you, the soft fabric of his cloak falling over you. You don’t open your eyes immediately, stilling when his breath hits your ear. “Sweet, Y/N.” He says, voice dripping with honey and you gasp softly, not able to move your mouth properly by the hand on your face.

“Do you think we are going to hurt you?” You have a feeling that the sadness in Seungmin’s voice is mocking, however when your eyes blink open you see the truth. You know — but still your mind overpoweres your heart, logically nodding in agreement at such question and surprisingly they don’t look too taken back or offended.

They actually cooed at you more, shushing you softly and it calms you just a little “We would never.” Still you shake a little in their hold, trying to find the pieces of your shattered sanity. “We did this all for you, so you can be safe-“ Jeongin argues, feeling his covered thumb brushing across your naked skin. You really are crazy to trust them with their words.

Seungmin pulls you closer to face him again, gazing down at you. “Don’t you feel saver knowing we saved you and your dignity?” He says and you gasp in sudden realization.

“You killed Jake-“

“No, no, no-“ Seaungmin stops the small cry leaving you and you feel Jeongin leaning to dig his nose in your hair, basically rubbing the side of his face into you — you can’t do anything other than inhale sharply at his closeness. “Even if we would prefer that…we just really let him learn his lesson.” Smile creeps up onto the brunette’s face and you can feel the other smiling just as wildly on your temple.

“You are both crazy!” Your voice is broken, trembling at the feeling of the blonde’s lips pressing lightly on the side of your face.

“Oh, really?” Every word bounces of your skin, feeling his spit smear over you and at his tone of voice, your bottom lip quivers. “Hear that, Seungmin?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, while he turns his head to glance at his companion and you do nothing, but the same.

A low hum comes from him, looking down your body shamelessly and you self-consciously squeeze your thighs together and that move particularly seems to make his eyes sparkle. “Weren’t you the one fucking yourself to our voices?” Teasing you, the smile in his voice makes you shake, embarrassed at the memory of them seeing you at your most vulnerable.

“I didn’t know it was you!”

“Yeah, but you definitely didn’t think of the fuckface-Jake either.” Spits Jeongin, turning his head to look into your eyes and you can see every small wrinkle and invisible blemish on his skin.

Then a voice is heard and it makes your heart stop for a moment, a familiar knot forming in your stomach as you turn to Seungmin. With wide eyes you glance at the small box in his hand, watching him press down the button on the side of it. “You like it.” He states the obvious and you can’t do nothing, but agree silently in your head. You can hear both his normal voice and his changed one, the reality of the situation crushing over you. His hand on your chin tugs you closer to his face, hearing the click of the button again, crisp hum coming of the voice changer. “You, like that, Y/N?” Fuck you do….

“I-I-“ You try to justify yourself, fight against the rising desire in your gut. Maybe it is because of your ruined orgasm, but you seem to almost lean into his hold.

A deep laugh rings in your left ear, making you look from the corner of your eye at Jeongin who holds his own voice changer in his hand. “Want us to finish the job, huh?“ He says, eyes flickering down your body, hand tightening around you. “I can see the wet spot on your little shorts from here.” Your lips fall apart, whimper leaning you, knowing that Seungmin must feel the blood rushing to your face. You see your legs tremble from how much you were pressing them together, making you calm down your strained muscles. You can feel your upper thighs stick together, the cold air kissing you, realizing you haven’t even put your shorts back to their place.

The hand on your face leaves you, letting you turn to look up at the brunette, watching his every move. A sense of Deja vu washes over you, when he pulls your hair off your shoulder, eyes staring at the naked skin of your neck. Their hands on your legs trail up, the extra stimulation already too much to handle all at once as Seungmin lowers his head to your neck, hand stopping just at your higher part of your thigh — but Jeongin doesn’t.

Breath fans over your skin, making it tingle, before you feel a press of Seungmin’s lips on the part where your neck meets your ear. Mind completely fuzzy, you sigh out a silent gasp, when Jeongin’s fingers lightly graze over your exposed center. It makes your hand shoot to his, gripping at his wrist and it makes him stop momentarily. He meets your wide gaze, quietly asking. You can feel the other kissing your skin again, your hand on the blonde’s softening its grip a little, but not internally letting go. Giving you one single look, his leather covered fingers finally dip into you.

The unknown material on your most sensitive area sends sparks down your spine, gasping lightly, grip around his wrist tightening a little, when he pushes his fingers harder against you. “Fuck, I can feel how wet you are even over my glove–“ The blonde opens his mouth, mimicking the whimper you let out at lewd words. Your other hand flies to grip Seungmin’s shoulder to brace yourself when you feel the small flicker of his friend’s finger on your clit, but you only receive a bite on your neck.

Your yelp makes them both laugh, suddenly pulling away from you to look at you fully, all three of you trying to catch your breaths. Their hold leaves you, challenging you, maybe to see if you would run, but to your own surprise you do nothing other than rubbing your legs together. “Stand up.” You nod after a split second, crawling back a little so you could stand up on your shaking legs, just like they asked you to.

They immediately follow your lead, making you nearly double over by their looming height, gasping when they both grab you, picking you off your feet. The embarrassment of feeling your cunt quiver is quickly forgotten as you swing your feet in the air, till you are pulled into your room. Your eyes glance at your window, cracked open, like you carelessly left it. When you feel them put you down on your carpet the memory is thrown out of the window, when they manhandle you, turning you around, before pushing you down on the bed.

The pink duvet wrinkles under your weight, watching them slowly lower themselves on either side of you. Your eyes firstly meet Jeongin’s, his gaze unnaturally soft for a moment, eyes half lidded, flickering down to your bitten lips and you can’t help, but do the same. He leans ever so slightly towards you, but you are swiftly pulled away from him by his friend, who gives you a long, deep look, before smashing his lips to yours.

His tongue breaches your lips immediately, swirling around yours and you desperately try to keep up with his pace. Drool — his and yours mix together, rolling past your lips. He swallows the small sounds you let out, hand gripping at your leg tightly. It seemed way more possessive, fingers digging into you so deeply, you know it will bruise permanently. Seungmin breathes through his nose heavily, fucking your mouth with his tongue and it must be considered anything, but a kiss at that point. Then you however feel a hand sneaking its way up your back, till it buries itself into your hair, tugging harshly. It makes you pull away from the brunette, who bites down at your lip, almost like tugging you back to him. A small hiss leaves you, but it is torn away from you hallway when Jeongin pulls you by your hair to his own lips.

His kiss is a little softer, more precise, not overly using his tongue right away to build up the tension. Spit is literally rolling down your neck, pooling at the valley of your breasts, leaning into the blonde just a little more, when his own hand meets your thigh. Another lips travel up your neck, kissing your jawline, cheek, till you feel Seungmin swiping his tongue across yours and Jeongin’s. “Fuck-“ Your small curse isn’t even heard, both of them pressing their bodies to yours, tongues licking into your open mouth.

The sighs from all of you melt into one, your heart hammering against your chest, letting them both kiss you messily. You don’t even know who is who at this moment. Who is biting down on your lower lip, who is swiping their tongue across your gums and teeth — you don’t even register one of them pulling away from you. Your mind is completely empty, so soaked that you can feel your shorts and your duvet sticking to your pulsating pussy. You are drunk of a simply kiss that felt so much more than anything that you left, when you were pleasuring yourself downstairs in the living room.

When you are pulled away from the mouth latching onto yours, it makes your eyes flicker open, only meeting Seungmin’s crazed eyes. His lips shine, puffy and red, swiping his thumb across yours to clean up the drool across your them. “Sit on his face, baby–“ Your eyes momentarily widened at such words, just noticing the shifting on your bed behind you, making you turn around and see the blonde laying on his back horizontally on the mattress. “Maybe, you can finally shut him up–“ Seungmin laughs, ignoring the glare on Jeongin’s face, it melting when meeting your eyes.

You bite your lip, already raw, trailing your eyes over his lean body, that is still covered completely. Your body moves on its own, sitting up, reaching to touch him. Being on your hands and knees, you feel Seungmin’s hands finding your hips, squeezing and grabbing a handful. It makes you tremble a little, crawling your way up to the blonde, eyes staring down at his sharp cheekbones and plush lips. But when you go to swing your leg over his body, facing him, you only receive a nasty smack on your cheek.

Another startled yelp leaves you, feeling your skin ripple and burn from the slap, turning around to glare at Seungmin, but he only finds the expression on you was adorable. “Turn around.” You frown a little, confused, turning back to look at man laying before you and when he taps his lips with his index finger your eyebrows raise in realization.

Too much — it was all so much for you, but your body acts on its own, turning around on your knees, your backside facing the blonde, before you finally swing your leg over his body to straddle his chest. You needed a moment to breathe, to calm yourself down, but he doesn’t let you even fully settle in this new position. His hands fly to your hips, squeezing just like his friend did, who now faces you, before roughly pulling you closer to his face. A gasp leaves you, falling forward, back arching, your chin hitting the bulge covered by his cloak, stilling when his flattened tongue licks over your barely covered cunt.

Moaning, your eyes glance at Seungmin whose eyes go back and forth between your body and your contracting face which you bashfully hide in the dark cloth beneath you. You try to move just a little, to sit up maybe, legs not strong enough in this position, but Jeongin doesn’t seem particularly against in sticking his whole face in to you. You can feel him everywhere — tongue licking over your slicked slit, mouth sucking in your lips, teeth grazing over your pulsating clit, nose digging in hole. “Too much — fuck!” Your legs already shake, face smushed against his leg, grazing his twitching cock.

Jeongin pulls away from you with a sharp inhale, chuckling at your trembling legs, hands running over the swell of your ass. “Come on, baby. We know you can take it.” You moan, not sure if it’s in agreement or disagreement, spit covered lips soaking his cloak. You only whine more, when he suddenly lifts his hips effortlessly, even with you being on top of him.

While trying to catch your breath a little, letting the man under you play with you — sqeezing your flesh, sucking meanly at your thighs, you didn’t even notice the other getting off the bed. The blonde pulls your lips apart, groaning at the sight of your dripping hole. “Fuck, look at that–“ A familiar long hum echoes around the room, making you tilt your head, gaze only meeting Seungmin’s. You don’t even know how he got behind you, but that doesn’t seem as important as the sight of his cock in his hand.

With wide eyes and blurry vision you watch his hand go up and down the length, smearing his own precum over himself and you whimper softly at the veins running from the base all the way to his flushed tip. Your small noise only breaks in a loud mewl when you feel the blonde’s tongue licking you up again, long and rough, before you are left speechless when he shuffles a little more to the edge of the bed. “You are dripping, baby — gonna fuck you nice and good right now, okay?” You look at him with big eyes, feeling Jeongin, sliding under you, latching right on your clit.

You can’t move an inch from the growing pleasure, shaking again already, freezing for a second when you feel the tip of the brunette’s cock kissing your entrance. Jeongin doesn’t seem to be put off, actually nibbling a little at you, while Seungmin starts to bottom out. The sweet burn from the sheer thickness melts away with the tongue moving your clit from side to side, making you grip tightly onto Jeongin’s legs, face bumping into his own cock that twitches all the same like the one now kissing your cervix.

Your walls suck him right in, back arching even more, grinding down on the cock inside you and the tongue licking your cunt. “Hear that?” Your ears perk up at the words, feeling Seungmin pull out his cock, before fucking back into you with a filthy, nasty smack! as your skins meet. “You are a fucking slut — greedy for a cock and a mouth at the same time–“ You hum dumbly in agreement, face hot at the sound of Jeongin spitting and slurping at you. “That asshole wouldn’t even know what to do with this hungry cunt of yours — would he Jeongin?”

His friend unlatches from you, though his tongue still licks at your folds, letting the man over him snap his hips back into you, before picking up pace that makes you see stars. “No.” You don’t even make a sound for a second there, mouth hanging open at the way Seungmin’s cock kisses the spot inside you that you have trouble reaching yourself. The lack of answer from your side gives you a sharp bite on your right thigh, Jeongin teeth breaching the sensitive skin with a wide smile. “Answer us — would he be able to make you feel like this?” Another smack lands on your ass, Seungmin’s now naked hand grabbing a handful of your bouncing flesh.

“No!” You cry out, sobbing almost when the blonde suck your clit into his mouth, gripping at your trashing hips. “N–never–“ Your whole face rubs against Jeongin’s cock, making a wet spot appear right over his tip from your drooling .

“Fuck, yeah, he wouldn’t.” Seungmin is cocky and you can hear the proud smirk on his face from the way your hips start to meet his. You don’t even want to move — can’t even, your muscles and nerves doing it for you. It only makes you back up into Jeongin’s nose, moaning as it hits your clit perfectly. “So good–“ Praises the brunette, slapping his palm over your already bruised skin, his eyes fighting to stay open when your insides starts to pulse around him.

“I am — I-I–“

“Gonna cum, huh?” He is mocking you, but the sight of your ass bouncing on his cock and his friend’s tongue just lightly grazing over him, makes his own hips shutter. “That soon?” The blonde under you response by pushing the tip of his tongue hard against your poor clit.

“Please-” You whisper, mind a mess from the burn coming from your clit and stretched out hole.

“What do you think, Jeongin?” You want to moan in protest, pleading quietly to the man under you, who has been torturing with his tongue for the longest time. “Should we let her cum?” Seungmin asks, though not stopping thrusting into you.

The named man nods firstly, the move with his mouth latched on you, nearly taking you over the edge, but he separates from you just as you felt the first spark of your peak. “She’s been good — so responsive–“ You hate how even now they are playing with you, not knowing that they are doing it just to spite you — to completely ruin you for anyone else…there will not be anyone else. “I want you to cum all over my mouth.” Mumbles Jeongin in your pussy, swirling his tongue hard over your tingling clit.

“Fuck, please…yes–“ Loud gasp leaves you when you feel the tip of Seungmin’s cock hitting the plushy spot inside you. “Don’t stop.” Your words die on your tongue, falling forward, the only thing keeping you somewhat up were their hands digging into your soft skin. Your lower tummy rumbles, the sudden burn coming from your clit is so much that you want to escape the feeling, but they are too strong.

The incoming pleasure is so close — so sharp and intense, that you feel your whole body being set on fire. You shake, sobbing and moaning loudly, muffled by your mouth digging into Jeongin’s cock that twitches under you. Seungmin buries into you deeper, his hand finding your hair to pull your head back so they both could hear what they were doing to you. With a single last suck of lips, cock ramming into you in a delicious pace that makes you almost black out, you finally cum, coating the brunette’s cock and the blonde’s face in your juices.

You see white for a second, feeling your hole push out the cock still moving in you, giving Seungmin no choice, but to pull out of you. A flow of your juices and pleasure come leaking out of you and straight to Jeongin’s face and you in exhaustion flop down on him. “Holy shit— didn’t know you were a squirter.” Your features would have shown shock at the words, but you are completely drained from energy, whimpering, because you can’t seem to ride down this mind shattering orgasm.

You feel someone flipping you around, the blonde shuffling away from you, letting you flop down back on the bed. The ceiling dances in shapes, your chest rising heavily, stretching your hand to push your hair off your face only to met plastic in the way. Turning your head to the side you only find one of their masks right next to you and you find yourself trailing your fingers over the sleek white face. “Baby…” You tiredly look down the length of your body, meeting their gazes that spark with a new emotion. “You like it?”

You genuinely think of a right answer, turning to look back at the mask, that right now didn’t seem so scary. You hate yourself — you know that it isn’t because they fucked you so good, you truly can feel your pussy fluttering at the memory of them wearing it. Then you only nod, not trusting your own voice and they both melt a little at the cute wonder on your face. Seungmin is the first one to move, hands trailing up your thighs, meeting with the waistband of your shorts. You help him take them off, the garment completely unnecessary. Jeongin on the other hand goes a little higher — firstly just grabbing a handful of your tits, nipples digging into his palms, before he as well helps you take off the last piece of clothing.

Their sweet behavior makes your chest fill with warmth, but you can’t ignore the darkness in their eyes, that drink in your naked body. Hands are everywhere on you — mostly groping the new exposed flesh of your tits, pinching meanly at your nipple, each giving you a harsh suck on the swell of your breasts, marking you. You take your chance to finally touch them, running your hands through their hair, gripping their shoulders, feeling their muscles spasm under your fingers. Your legs are spread open, Seungmin’s cock rubbing against your thigh, while Jeongin fumbles with something behind you.

They detach their mouths from you, making you look down your body, noticing hickeys, blotches and bruises covering you. A ruffle of clothing catches your attention, noticing firstly how the blonde kneeling beside your head uncovers his lower half. You inhale, staring at the bulge in his pants, before looking up at him, only to be left speechless again. He is wearing the mask…you don’t how he was able to put it on so quickly, but you are still drowsy of your orgasm, vision a blur.

Watching him undo his belt and zipper you instantly go to sit up on your arms, only to be pulled down a little on the bed. Seungmin tugged at your ankle, just like on the stairs and now even with the same mask on his face. The feeling of having not the privilege to see their pretty faces, making you instead stare at the Ghostface mask makes you oh, so needy. You can just feel their grins on you — the blonde tugging at your roots to turn your head to face his now uncovered cock.

“Will you be good and take both of us?” You bite your lip, eyes going from the long veiny cock with deliciously flushed tip to his masked face, air getting caught in your throat at the use of the voice changer.

Nodding, you blink slowly, trying to unstick your teary eyelashes to fully imprint this view in your mind. You feel hand trail over your stomach, squeezing at your soft tummy, while the cock before you pokes at your lips, smearing precum all over you. “Gonna fuck my cum right here–“ Says the brunette, pressing down on your tummy. “You’ll be mine.”

“Ours.” Hisses Jeongin through his teeth, when you wrap your lips around his tip, sucking the salty taste of him in your mouth. The sneer is obvious in his tone and as response the older snaps his hips into yours, burying his cock in you in one go.

Your squeal is muffled by the cock in your mouth, hand smoothing down your messy hair, but the sweet gesture doesn’t match his or his friend’s movements. You almost choke around him as he hits the back of your throat, because Seungmin started to chase quickly and roughly for his own orgasm. You can tell by the way he rolls his hips into yours — humping you more and more than fucking you, gasps and curses flying out his mouth that he definitely won’t last that much longer like before.

Drool rolls down face again, eyes filling up with tears, while you still look at the man fucking your mouth. He is slow with it, yet hard, keeping in mind that you might not be able to catch up with him when his company is so busy with molding your pussy into the shape of his cock. You are already over the line of overstimulation, your cunt swallowing hungrily Seungmin’s cock and when he suddenly presses his thumb over the top of your clit your eyes roll back into your skull, legs shaking around his hips. “You, slut — look at you swallowing my cock, bet you are about to cum again, hm?” You grip his hips tightly between your legs, trying to get much needed oxygen through your nose, head swirling from the incoming pleasure.

“Look at me — when I’m fucking-“ The low, rough voice makes you look at its owner, moaning around Jeongin, when you notice the desperation in Seungmin’s movements. “Yes, yes — keep squeezing me like that — fuck!” You whimper loudly, hand stretching to make the brunette slow down a little as you feel the second orgasm of the night creeping up on you. The blonde pulls out his drenched cock from your mouth, making you instantly moan breathlessly, eyes on Seungmin, who throws the voice changer somewhere to grab your hips to fully fuck into you, . “Cum for me — cum with me, come on, baby — yeahhh-“

No sound leaves your lips, when you hit the peak of your pleasure, body shaking violently as you feel Seungmin’s cock twitch. His warm cum fills you right after, pressing his whole cock so deep inside you, that you fear for a second that he breeched your cervix. Groaning, he falls on his knees before you, head hanging low, only to realize as he pulls his down his mask, that he is staring at where your bodies meet, watching his cum leak out of, forming a creamy ring around his cock. “Still not full?” Says Jeongin and you watch him tore his own mask off, running his hand through his messed up hair.

“I can’t no more–“ You plea, but the sight before you makes your cunt only clap down on the cock still inside you. The younger one eyes the older, looking into his eyes before wrapping his hand around the base of his cock to pull him out of you. You don’t know if it was because of his orgasm or the mesmerizing sight of your hole leaking his cum, but he lets Jeongin shove him off you to fill in his position.

He crawls up your body, kissing your left nipple, before meeting your lips in a sweet kiss. “You can — just hold on, I got you.” You moan tiredly, twitching, when he puts his cock to your clit teasingly. “Have to fill you up too.” You look up at him with big eyes, the intimate position making your chest swell and it seems like it does it for him too.

You let him grab your legs, a little shocked by him pushing them all the way to your ears, but you are a complete mess to care anymore, muscles jello. His cock breaching your stuffed pussy, makes a nasty wet sound echo around the room. Whimpering, while the blonde moans, long fingers digging into the cushion on each side of your head, you lock your legs together behind his back. You watch — mesmerized by the sweat dripping down his face, hair sticking to his forehead as he rams his cock into you, not even letting you breath for a second.

Your eyes shoot open again, fighting against your tiredness, wildly staring into his eyes, mewling at each snap of his hips, the sticky release of his friend smearing across the both of you. “Fuck, you are so right, Y/N.” You hum between each snap of his hips, head rolling back, when his happy trail scratches your completely bruised clit.

“Ah! Ah — Jeongin, can’t–“ Your whole bottom half burns, but it still was so good that you found yourself drowning in the pleasure.

Your head is turned back, vision nothing, but small black spots, but you recognize the hand holding you. “Cum for him, Y/N-“ Seungmin says, laying beside you and your eyes meet the blonde’s at the words. It was like a command — they had the complete power over your mind and body. “Just one more…” A sob breaks out of you, gasping then when Jeongin hits your spot particularly hard. You need to feel something more — so, you lean in to press your lips to his and the unexpected gesture leaves his thrusts shattering into a stop, groaning into your mouth.

This one takes you completely out of your body, feeling yourself squirt ones again, so hard you swear you could hear your orgasm dripping out of you. But the thing you do feel is the cum filling you, mixing with yours and the other’s. You can feel the light kisses on your skin — you can hear the words both degrading and encouraging. Your ringing ears are filled with sweet nothings, your eyes not able to tell apart the room and faces before you — but you do see the obvious.

You are insane in the brain.

[insidekatmind]

Unspoken tension~Hwang Jun-ho

Wearning: +18,smut

The night was cold, the sharp air whipping through the streets of Seoul as the city's noise blended with the hum of your thoughts.

You weren’t the social type,everyone at the precinct knew that. Always closed off, reserved, with that distant demeanor that kept others at bay. Hwang Jun Ho, on the other hand, was different. Persistent. Smiling. And for some reason, he never gave up on you.

He had invited you to his place multiple times, with that expression caught between shyness and amusement, almost expecting rejection. And you had turned him down, as always. "It's not my thing," you had told him without a second thought. But something, that night, pushed you to do the opposite.

And so, here you are, standing in front of his apartment door with two pizza boxes balanced on one arm and a bag of beer bottles in the other. You stare at the door for a few seconds before knocking.

Footsteps. Then, the door opens.

Jun Ho looks at you, surprised. His dark eyes widen slightly before a smile spreads across his lips, asmile he tries to suppress but that betrays his emotions.

"I thought you said no," Jun Ho says, smiling in disbelief.

"I changed my mind," you reply simply.

You step past him, entering without acknowledging his still-incredulous gaze as he closes the door behind you. His apartment is small, tidy, carrying a faint scent of coffee and scattered documents on the living room table. It’s clear he had been working until just moments ago.

"Pizza and beer?" he asks, a note of amusement in his voice as he watches you set everything on the table.

"Are you complaining?" you ask, looking at him.

"No, not at all." He chuckles softly, heading to grab two glasses.

You sit on the couch, opening a pizza without much ceremony. Jun Ho does the same, settling beside you. The first sip of beer is cold, the first bite of pizza fills the silence.

But the tension... it grows.

It lingers in the air, in his measured movements, in the way he occasionally glances at you from the corner of his eye, in the spaces that feel too small between you. You don’t talk much. You don’t need to. The ticking of the clock on the wall marks the seconds in which he seems to take a breath, as if he wants to say something—but then holds back.

"Are you always like this with everyone?" he finally asks. His voice is low, almost uncertain.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Cold. Distant. Like… you’re always about to leave."

You lower your gaze to the beer bottle, rolling it between your hands. You don’t answer immediately.

"It’s easier that way."

"For who?" he asks.

You lift your gaze. Jun Ho is looking at you now, this time without hesitation. Dark, intense eyes—those of someone who isn’t afraid to dig deep.

He leans in slightly, his warm breath brushing against your skin. His gaze drops to your lips for a moment just a bit too long to be casual.

"For you? Or for those who want to be close to you?"

A shiver runs down your spine. And it’s not just because of his words. It’s the way he says them. The quiet certainty behind them.

You feel your heartbeat quicken, a nearly imperceptible tremor in your hand gripping the bottle.

The silence thickens. He’s still there, still too close, and you should say something,anything,to break the moment.

But you don’t.

And he notices.

You tried to look away from him but you seemed drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Jun Ho stares at you, his gaze unwavering. He's so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the beer. His proximity, his attention,it's intoxicating.

His hand comes up to your cheek, fingers tracing a line along your jaw. You're frozen in place, your breath catching in your throat. His touch is electrifying, sending jolts of electricity through you.

His eyes bore into yours, studying you intently. He's trying to read you, unravel the thoughts going through your mind, the emotions you’re trying to conceal.

His hand slides from your jaw to your neck, his palm resting against your pulse point. He can feel the thudding of your heart, the erratic rhythm betraying the mask of indifference you’ve carefully crafted.Jun Ho leans closer, his face just inches from yours. His gaze flicks to your lips, and for a moment he seems almost transfixed. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, a soft exhalation that seems to fill the silence.

Then, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you keep shutting everyone out?"

You seemed surprised by his question. “It makes things easy for me,” you whispered, looking at his lips. Jun Ho lets out a soft sigh. His fingers trail along your collarbone, creating a path of fire on your skin.

"‘Easy’ doesn’t sound very... happy," he murmurs, his touch moving back up to your cheek. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, as if testing its suppleness.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the contact, your body reacting without your control. And he notices. Of course he notices.

His eyes glint with something like satisfaction, but it's quickly replaced by an intensity that makes your heart pound faster.

"Not everything has to be easy," he says, his hand slipping behind your neck, drawing you closer.His face is so close now that you can count his eyelashes. The proximity is dizzying, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes. You’re caught in a whirlpool of sensations, a storm of conflicting emotions.

His thumb continues its path, sliding along your lower lip, tugging it gently. Your head tilts back involuntarily, offering him access that he gladly takes.

Jun Ho leans closer, his lips ghosting over your ear, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Stop running away.” His breath is warm on your skin, making you shiver.

His fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head back, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every detail, every shiver, as if trying to commit them all to memory.He kisses your jaw, his lips trailing a scorching path to your ear again. “Stop putting up walls." He bites down lightly on your earlobe, eliciting a soft gasp from you. His hand grips your hip, fingers digging into the flesh almost possessively.

Jun-ho pulls you astride his thighs and you cling to his muscular shoulders. As you sit on his lap, you can feel the hard lines of his body against yours, a stark contrast to the soft curves of your own. His thighs are firm and strong beneath you, and his hands find their way to your waist, gripping you with a possessiveness that should make you uncomfortable, but only adds fuel to the fire burning through your veins.

He drags you closer, his face just inches from yours. His eyes darken, filled with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

"Stop hiding." His voice is hoarse, his fingers tight on your waist. The words seem both command and plea.

His lips find the soft skin of your neck, trailing kisses from your ear to your collarbone, then back again. He sucks lightly on your pulse point, the suction making you arch against him involuntarily.

His hands slide under the hem of your t-shirt, fingers dancing across your bare skin. The touch is light, teasing, leaving a trail of goose bumps where they pass.His hips grind against yours, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through you. Jun Ho growls softly into your neck, his fingers digging into your flesh. He nips at your skin, leaving tiny marks that you know you'll find later.

You're so close that you can feel his heartbeat, a rapid thumping that mirrors your own. His hands slide up your back, pulling your t-shirt over your head and discarding it carelessly.

You look at him and take his face and kiss him. The kiss is instant, electric, a collision of need and desire that both of you have been restraining for so long.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you as close as physically possible. Your bodies meld together, fitting perfectly like two halves of a whole. His lips move against yours fiercely, hungrily, as if he can't get enough of you.

His fingers thread through your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss.

His tongue flicks against your lower lip, demanding entrance, and you oblige readily. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of beer and something uniquely his.

He devours you, his kiss bruising, but you match his fervor with your own. Your hands roam over his shoulders, his back, every touch a silent plea for more.

His hands are everywhere, mapping every curve, every plane of your body. He explores you like a starving man, his fingers leaving behind trails of fire.Jun-ho unhooked your bra as he continued kissing you. His actions are quick, practiced, as if he'd been thinking about this moment for longer than he cares to admit.

Your bra falls away, leaving your upper body exposed to the air and his gaze. He pulls back, his eyes roving over your torso with a possessive glint that makes you shiver.

He pushes you back gently, lowering you onto the couch, his body covering yours as his lips find your neck again.

You touch his black t-shirt and lift it up for him to take it off. His eyes never leave yours as you help him remove his t-shirt, the fabric sliding over his muscular torso with ease.

His chest is toned and defined, and you can't help but pause for a moment, fingers trailing over his skin reverently. He notices the way you're looking at him, the way you touch him,it makes him shiver.

Jun Ho leans down again, capturing your lips in a demanding kiss.

His body presses against yours, the heat of his skin searing through you. His hand moves over your waist, up your side, over your breast, touching you reverently, possessively.

His lips move to your throat, his teeth grazing lightly over your pulse, and you let out a soft gasp.

"Beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, the word both a compliment and an declaration of ownership.His mouth moves down to your breasts, kissing and caressing them, then down to your belly and down to your waist to take off your pants.

His lips leave a trail of fire over your skin, his touch simultaneously gentle and insistent. He kisses each inch of your flesh, his tongue darting out to taste you.

He undresses you slowly, his hands deftly removing your pants, baring your legs to his gaze. His fingers trail over the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, making you shiver.

His lips move up your inner thigh, leaving a path of wet kisses, getting closer and closer to your core.You moaned and arched. “Jun-ho” you moaned.

His name on your lips, a sound he never thought he'd hear, drives him wild.

"Say it again," he growls, his fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to leave bruises. “Say it again.”

His mouth is inches from your core now, so close you can feel his breath on your most sensitive flesh. He looks up at you through his lashes, waiting, wanting."Jun-ho" You whispered as you tried to take off his jeans and boxers.

His breath hitched at the sound of his name. There was something in the way you said it, the huskiness in your voice, that sent a jolt of desire straight to his core.

Your fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, and he helped you, lifting his hips so you could slide the fabric down. He kicked the pants off, left in just his boxers.

His eyes were dark, almost feral, as he looked at you, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties.He takes off your panties and enters you and you moan, holding on to him and hugging him.

He's everywhere, surrounding you, filling you, and it's more than you ever imagined.

You cling to him, your fingers digging into the solid muscle of his back. You're lost in sensations, your body moving against his in perfect rhythm, as if you were made to fit together.

"Jun-ho," you gasp, your voice sounding foreign, desperate. "Please."

He responds by driving into you deeper, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still, his lips on your skin, tasting you, marking you.You moaned as you felt his thrusts getting harder making you scream his name. Each thrust was like a jolt of electricity, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, over and over again.

"Jun-ho," you gasped, barely able to form a coherent thought, "Don't stop, please don't stop."

He didn't, instead he quickened the pace, his eyes locked on yours, his gaze never leaving your face.

"Look at me." He said through gritted teeth. "I want to see you."

You look up at him with your lust-filled eyes as you pull him into a kiss. Your kiss is messy, uncoordinated, more teeth and heat than finesse, but it's perfect in its intensity.

His tongue tangles with yours, his breath hot against your lips. He swallows your moans, his arms holding you tight, as if scared to let go.

"You feel so good," he growls, his words muffled by your mouth, "So good. You're mine."

He's losing himself in you, in the heat between your bodies, in every sound and motion. It's more than lust, and he knows it.

His teeth graze your shoulder, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark.

"Mine," he whispers against your skin. "Say it. Say you're mine."

“Yours,” you moaned as you felt his cock slamming harder into you. Your words seemed to drive him crazy. The possessive glint in his eyes became darker, almost feral. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Again,” he ordered, his voice rough and dark. “Say it again.”

He thrusts into you even harder, as if to prove a point, eliciting a strangled cry from you.

"You're mine," you gasped, your nails digging into his back. "All yours."The words spill from your lips, a mix of need and surrender. He seems to grow even harder, more aggressive at the sound of them.

“That's right," he murmurs, his voice rough. “You’re mine, understand? Every part of you. I'm the only one who gets this, who gets to see you this way.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, as if trying to make every inch of your body his own.

“Say my name,” he orders again. “Say it.”

The sound of his name on your lips is music to his ears. Every gasp, every moan, every time you say it, it's like a confirmation that this is real.

"Again," he growlt, his hips never ceasing their relentless rhythm. "Say it again, I want to hear you."

Your body is a mess of sensations, every nerve ending on fire, but you find the strength to speak.

His name falls from your mouth like a mantra, ragged and pleading. "Jun-ho...Jun-ho..."

Jun-ho's name sounds like a prayer on your lips, a plea for more, and he's determined to give it to you.

"That's it," he murmurs, his teeth gently biting into your jaw. "Just like that. So good for me."

He's losing control, slipping further into this primitive need to claim you, possess you. He needs to know you're his, needs to mark you as his own.

He bites down on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, his hands gripping your hips even tighter.The pain mixes with the pleasure, the intensity taking your breath away. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as if he's the only thing anchoring you to this world.

His name is a broken record in your head, an endless loop of pleasure and need. "Jun-ho... Jun-ho...Jun-ho."

Each thrust deepens, each touch more possessive than the last. He's not just taking you, he's owning you, claiming you. And you love every second of it.

Your body is writhing under him, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. You're both lost in each other, in the sensations that are taking over.

His breath is hot on your skin, his words a mix of praise and demand. "You drive me insane," he groans against your neck. "You’re so beautiful, you feel so good."

He captures your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue swirling yours, his passion almost wild. He's pouring everything he is into you, every feeling he's held back for so long.

He kisses a path down your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive spots, making you gasp and shiver. His fingers dig into your flesh, marking you, claiming you.Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. His touch leaves a trail of fire across your skin, each movement sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

He's everywhere, his scent, his taste, his touch. You're surrounded by him, in him, and you never want it to end.

“I'm coming,” you warned. Your words were the sweetest thing he'd ever heard, a desperate plea and an announcement all at once. He knew what you needed, what you wanted, all without you even having to say it.

His fingers dug into your hips as he increased the pace, his name on your lips a litany. “Come for me,” he growled. "I want to feel it. I want to hear you say my name."

You came moaning his, triggering his orgasm too.

The world explodes into white noise as you both come together. All the tension, all the desire, all the need suddenly released in one single, intense moment.

You cling to each other, shaking, breathless, trying to come back to reality.

He collapses on top of you, his body heavy but comforting. His face is buried in your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your heartbeats, the sound of your breaths.

Then, he whispers, "You’re mine."

[heeluvv]

dk if you write ab drug usage so ignore this if you dont thats totally fine ! but currently romanticizing the idea of having a smoke sesh with jay + jake in their basement or something and it turns horny

don't know much abt drugs but this definitely intrigued me so here it is

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 ▬▬ڪ

pairing 🂾 jayke x reader

genre 🂾 smut

warnings 🂾 drug use, fingering, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, etc.

natty's notes 🂾 mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

the basement is dimly lit, the only glow coming from the neon beer sign hanging crooked on the wall and the flickering ember of a freshly rolled joint resting between jay’s fingers. the air is thick, heavy with the scent of weed and something more—something unspoken.

you sit between them on the old, beat-up couch, the fabric worn from years of use, the cushions sinking beneath the weight of your bodies. the music hums low through the speakers, bass vibrating against your skin, matching the slow, lazy rhythm of your heartbeat. jake is leaning back, one arm draped over the couch, fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes into the fabric beside your shoulder. jay, on the other hand, is watching you, head tilted slightly, eyes low, the joint smoldering between his lips before he takes another slow drag.

“want some?” jay murmurs, his voice rich, thick like honey, like smoke itself. he lifts the joint toward you, fingers grazing yours as you take it. the touch is brief, barely there, but it lingers, the heat of it trailing up your arm, settling deep in your stomach.

you inhale, slow, the burn traveling down your throat before you exhale, watching the tendrils of smoke curl and dissipate into the heavy air. jake chuckles beside you, eyes flicking to your lips, and suddenly, you’re hyperaware of everything—the way jay’s watching you, the way jake’s fingers have moved just a little closer to your shoulder, the way the air has shifted, thicker, more charged.

“you smoke like you’ve done this before,” jake teases, his voice low, teasing, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

you shrug, the high starting to settle into your limbs, making everything feel slower, more intense. “maybe i have,” you reply, passing the joint back to jay, your fingers grazing his once again. this time, neither of you pull away too quickly.

jay’s lips curl into a lazy smirk as he takes another drag, holding the smoke before exhaling through his nose. his eyes stay on yours, dark, unreadable. “yeah?” he muses, voice smooth, knowing. “you look good like this.”

the heat that was already simmering beneath your skin spikes. you shift slightly, thighs pressing together involuntarily, and jake notices. of course he does. his smirk deepens as he leans in just a fraction closer, the scent of his cologne mixing with the smoke in a dizzying way.

“feeling good?” jake murmurs, voice dropping an octave.

your throat goes dry, but you nod anyway. the joint makes its way back to you, and you take another slow hit, letting the sensation settle over you. but this time, when you pass it back, jay’s fingers catch yours, holding them there just a second too long.

jake watches the exchange, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “you two are gonna make me jealous,” he murmurs, tilting his head, his gaze flicking between you and jay.

jay exhales a laugh, eyes still locked onto yours. “yeah? maybe we should do something about that.”

your breath catches. the air between the three of you is thick with tension now, a slow-burning heat that spreads through your veins, making you feel lightheaded in a way that has nothing to do with the weed.

jay leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath against your cheek, his fingers still ghosting over yours. “what do you think, baby?” he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue like silk.

you swallow hard, caught between the smoldering weight of jay’s stare and the way jake’s eyes have darkened, watching, waiting.

and suddenly, the smoke isn’t the only thing making it hard to breathe.

jay moves first, his fingers trailing up your arm, the warmth of his touch sending a slow ripple of anticipation down your spine. jake follows suit, his hand sliding up the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. you shudder, and they both notice.

“so sensitive,” jay murmurs, his smirk deepening as his fingers slide down your wrist, his thumb pressing gently against your racing pulse. “knew you’d like this.”

jake chuckles, his breath warm against your neck as he leans in, close enough that you feel his lips ghosting over your skin. “yeah?” he muses, voice dripping with amusement. “she’s been waiting for this, hasn’t she?”

you don’t answer, don’t trust yourself to speak, but the way your body reacts—the way you tilt your head slightly, the way your breath hitches—gives you away. jay hums, satisfied, and lets his hand slide lower, fingers skimming the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath the fabric. the contact is electric, igniting something deep in your core.

jake’s fingers tighten at the base of your neck, his other hand trailing down your arm before resting against your thigh. “look at you,” he murmurs, watching the way you react to every little movement. “we haven’t even started, and you’re already trembling.”

jay chuckles, his lips curling at the edges. “guess we should take our time, then.”

the music hums in the background, the smoke curling lazily in the air, but none of it matters. not when you’re caught between them, their touches slow, teasing, their eyes locked onto yours, waiting, watching.

and you know, without a doubt, that this night is just getting started.

jay shifts, his hand pressing against your stomach, his fingers splaying out as if testing the way your body responds. jake’s fingers slide higher up your thigh, his grip firm but unhurried. the slow haze of the high makes everything feel heightened—the weight of their hands, the way their warmth seeps into you, the way your breath catches as jake leans in just enough to brush his lips against your jaw.

“you’re so quiet now,” jay muses, tilting his head. “cat got your tongue?”

the way he says it, teasing but edged with something deeper, makes you shiver. your fingers curl against the couch, nails digging into the worn fabric as they both continue to move, slow and deliberate. jay’s hand moves higher beneath your shirt, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. jake presses his lips against your neck, lingering just long enough to make your breath stutter.

jay watches you, his gaze dark, amused. “should we keep going, or do you want to stop?”

his voice is soft but firm, giving you an out if you need it. but you don’t. you shake your head, pulse racing, and that’s all they need.

jake smirks against your skin. “good girl.”

he slides his hand higher to cup your heavy breast. his thumb swipes teasingly across your stiff nipple through the lacy fabric of your bra, making you gasp. at the same time, jake reaches the juncture between your thighs. the pad of one finger brushes delicately against the damp fabric of your panties, right over that aching bundle of nerves. you nearly levitate off the couch, back arching desperately for more. more touches, more heat, more...

"please..." you whimper, control snapping. your hips jerk upward unconsciously, seeking friction. "fuck, please touch me..."

jake lifts his head from your neck, sharing a heated glance with his brother. "with pleasure, baby..."

as if on cue, the two set upon you like a pair of starving men at a feast. jay pops the clasp of your bra like a seasoned pro. his hands eagerly roam your curves, exploring, pinching as jake shoves your panties aside and sinks two thick fingers into your drenched heat. the stretch of it, the burn – you keen high in your throat, thighs quivering. you wonder hazily if it's always like this, all-consuming and filthy... or if this intensity is just because it's them. the two men who've consumed your thoughts all night.

jay ghosts his lips teasingly along your own, before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. he swallows all the moans and whimpers tumbling from your lips with each expert thrust of jake's fingers. you're practically sobbing, chasing the high of your mounting pleasure as wave after wave crashes over you.

jay continues to kiss you passionately, his tongue tangling with yours as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. jake's fingers work their magic, thrusting in and out of you at a relentless pace, hitting your most sensitive spots with each movement. your hips buck wildly, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor as the tension builds and builds within you.

finally, with one last deep thrust, you feel yourself shatter around jake's fingers, your climax hitting you with the force of a freight train. you scream into jay's mouth as he swallows your cries of ecstasy, wave after wave of intense pleasure washing over you. jake slowly removes his fingers, a smug grin on his face as he surveys his handiwork. you lay there panting, feeling utterly spent yet completely satisfied, basking in the afterglow of your earth-shattering orgasm.

jake straddles your body, his muscular form looming over you. with eager hands, he unzips his jeans, freeing his rock hard erection. he wraps his fist around the thick shaft, pumping it a few times before guiding it towards your parted lips.

jake thrusts forward, the velvety head of his cock pushing past your lips to slide along your tongue. he doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt in the wet heat of your mouth, your nose pressed against the neatly trimmed hair at his groin. his hands grip the back edge of the couch on either side of your head, using it for leverage as he pulls back, nearly withdrawing completely before slamming forward once more.

each powerful thrust forces your head back into the cushions, making you moan around the hot flesh filling your mouth. "fuck baby...feels so fucking good, shit.." jake groans gutturally, his toned back arching with pleasure as he continues to fuck your mouth, each snap of his hips more forceful than the last.

meanwhile, jay sits back, content to watch the erotic show before him. he takes a drag from a newly rolled joint held between two fingers, the cherry flaring brightly. the pungent aroma of weed mixes with the heady scent of sex in the small space, creating a intoxicating combination.

jake continues to piston his hips, driving his rock-hard cock deeper and deeper into your eager mouth. you can feel the sloppy wet sounds of your saliva mixing with his precum as he relentlessly fucks your face. your eyes roll back in pleasure, soft whines escaping your throat only to be muffled by jake's thickness stretching your lips wide.

from the corner of your eye, you spot jay lounging nearby, legs spread and his hard cock in hand. he takes long drags from the joint between his fingers, never taking his hungry gaze off the erotic sight of you being thoroughly used.

"fuuuck baby, your mouth feels incredible," jake groans gutturally, his back arched in ecstasy. his hips snap forward, each brutal thrust sending shocks of pleasure through your body. even though you've already came once, you find yourself aching for more, your empty pussy clenching around nothing. you shamelessly grind your hips against the plush couch cushions, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the building pressure.

"damn, you look so fucking sexy taking my dick like this," jake rasps, his thrusts becoming even more forceful and erratic. "you love being our little fucktoy, don't you baby?"

suddenly, jake pulls out of your mouth with a lewd pop, stalking around the couch like a predator. in one swift motion, he flips you over onto your hands and knees, your ass high in the air. jay stands up, flicking the roach of his joint aside as he positions himself in front of you. his proud erection bobs right in front of your face, a glistening bead of precum weeping from the tip.

hungrily, you wrap your lips around jay's cock, moaning in relief as you taste the salty bitterness of his excitement. jake wastes no time, grabbing your hips in a bruising grip as he plunges deep inside your soaking wet heat. you keen loudly around your mouthful of jay's throbbing flesh, the stretch and burn of jake's impressive size nearly enough to send you over the edge again.

the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your throat being roughly fucked by jay's pistoning cock and jake's balls slapping against your ass with each ferocious thrust. saliva mixes with precum to create a sloppy mess that dribbles down your chin. your whines and moans are muffled by the thick intrusion of jay's cock as he ruthlessly face-fucks you.

jay takes another hit from the joint and you hear him chuckle huskily. "you love this don't you, being used and filled up by both of us at the same time like the little cumslut you are?" he growls as his hips stutter. your only response is a wanton moan, your eyes fluttering in pleasure.

"fuuuck, I'm gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum," jake grunts, punctuating his words with a brutal thrust that has you seeing stars. "and you're going to take every last drop like a good girl, aren't you?"

all you can do is moan and keen in response, your body shuddering as your climax edges ever closer. the dual sensations of jake's cock stuffing your pussy to the brim while jay stretches your lips wide is almost too much for you to handle.

suddenly, jake grinds his hips hard against your ass, burying himself to the hilt inside you. you feel his cock pulse and throb inside your convulsing sheath as he fills you with his hot seed. at the same time, jay pulls out of your mouth, stroking himself fiercely before painting your face and chest with thick ropes of his cum. the feeling of being so thoroughly used and marked by both of them is what sends you hurtling over the edge.

your climax slams into you like a tsunami, ripping a guttural scream from your throat. wave after wave of intense, nearly unbearable pleasure crashes over you as you feel yourself clenching around jake's softening cock. you bask in the afterglow, feeling utterly debauched, used, desperate, and satisfied beyond belief.

natty's notes 🂾 i hoped you enjoyed!

[your-sleeparalysisdem0n]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩Thinking about how Mydei would just stand there staring at you, forming all kinds of scenarios in his head about courting you and sweeping you off your feet- only to realize has no clue how to do so.

Mydei, secretly jumping at any chance to help you out with something, only to fail embarrassingly because of his rapid heartbeat and flushed face. Did you notice how flushed his cheeks were? Hopefully not. He prays to any titan listening that you don't see him in such a state.

Mydei, who tries to be your hero in any situation. You're lonely and need company? He's already running towards you. Your arms hurt from carrying your luggage all day? Poof! Your stuff has disappeared right into his arms! You can't reach the top shelf to get the book you want? No worries! He, your savior, will get it for you!

Mydei, who stretches his toned, muscular arms while reaching for your book in order to impress you- acting all nonchalant and pretending like he doesn't care, only to malfunction the moment your soft skin ever-so-slightly brushes against his. His tall, sturdy frame going rigid as you turn to stare up at him with those big, doe eyes of yours, asking him why he suddenly stopped. Heart beating erratically at your close proximity while trying to keep an unaffected poker face with his entire being.

Mydei, who turns around abruptly so you can't see his face- now redder than the fresh pomegranate juice he likes to drink. Leaving you bewildered as he whirls around and quickly walks away from you. Taking your precious book with him in the process. "Mydei, where are you going-" you say, but are unable to finish your sentence as his broad figure disappears around the corner.

Mydei, who sits on his bed, soft sheets on the floor and his room a mess. As the Chrysos heir nearly bangs his head on a nearby wall from the frustration of being completely immobile in your presence. He wants to compliment you on your hair today? The words die before he can even think of them. He wants to converse in idle chatter with you? Too bad! The prince's tongue gets messed up in a constrictor's knot. He wants to confess to you about his undying feelings and get on his knees for you? His legs are already leading him the other way, and he takes a sudden interest in that flower pot over there. What a pretty flower pot, isn't it? Not as pretty as you though. You with your lush lips and perfect skin- annnddd, he's gone now.

Unfortunately for both of you, he could never bring himself to say that. For in your presence, the almighty warrior, the Duke of battle, the fearsome Mydeimos, turns into a brain-dead schoolboy unable to speak- and worst of all, you have no idea of the fool you turned him into.

A/N: how's that for a second fic? I had so much fun writing this lmao. Divider by @cafekitsune! You make the most amazing graphics <33 Ty for reading! Who knows, maybe I'll do a part 2!

Do not plagiarize, steal, or repost my work without permission. © All rights reserved

[novaursa]

A Lion's Folly (the hunter)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the choice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril @lordofthunderthr @mrsnms @itisjustwhatitis @urdxrling @meowmeowmothermeower @nen-nyy @nestvrn

The village was small, little more than a cluster of thatched-roof cottages and weathered stone buildings lining a muddy road. It was the kind of place untouched by war, nestled far enough from the major roads that the conflict between kings and houses had not yet carved its scars into the earth. The air smelled of damp wood and livestock, of bread baking in unseen kitchens and the faint sting of ale gone stale.

You rode in slowly, keeping your head low, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. Winter had stayed behind, prowling the edge of the woods just outside the village. You had whispered for him to wait, to stay unseen. A direwolf would only bring trouble here—too many whispers, too many eyes watching. And you needed to disappear, not become a spectacle.

The horse's hooves squelched against the mud as you reached the center of the village, where a modest tavern sat tucked between two larger buildings, its wooden sign creaking in the breeze. The sound of voices spilled out from inside—laughter, grumbling, the usual melody of weary travelers and men who had spent their day breaking their backs in the fields.

You slid from the saddle, adjusting your cloak before tying the reins loosely to a post. The tavern door groaned as you pushed it open, stepping inside.

The warmth hit you first, thick and heavy, carrying the scent of sweat, ale, and roasting meat. The fire in the hearth crackled, sending flickering shadows dancing across the walls. It was not an unfriendly place, nor was it particularly welcoming. It was the kind of place where men sat in corners nursing their drinks, where conversations hushed slightly when a stranger walked in, where familiarity was currency and outsiders were met with wary eyes.

And you, alone, with the mud of the road still clinging to your boots and the weight of exhaustion in your bones, were very much an outsider.

The few who noticed you did not hide their curiosity. A woman, traveling alone, entering a tavern unescorted—there was no ignoring that.

You ignored the looks, stepping toward the counter where the tavern keeper, a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard, was wiping down a wooden mug with a rag that looked no cleaner than the cup itself. He glanced up, his gaze sweeping over you, assessing.

"Room for the night?" he asked, voice gruff.

You hesitated before nodding. "And something to eat."

He grunted, setting the mug down before turning to ladle something from a pot into a bowl. A thin stew, by the looks of it. You had eaten worse.

Coins clinked against the counter as you placed them down, a small sum but enough for what you asked.

The man eyed them before sweeping them into his palm. He set the bowl before you without another word, nodding toward a nearby table.

You took the hint.

Sliding into a seat near the corner, you kept your back to the wall, your hood still pulled over your hair. The wooden spoon felt heavy in your hand as you stirred the stew absently, staring into the murky broth without really seeing it.

Your body was here, in this small tavern, in this nameless village.

But your mind was elsewhere.

You had run.

You had left behind the life Jaime had bound you to, the walls of Casterly Rock, the golden cage he had placed around you in the name of protection.

And yet, sitting here now, with a bowl of lukewarm stew in front of you and the low hum of voices filling the room, you felt no relief. No freedom.

Only exhaustion.

You had told yourself you had no other choice.

But hadn’t Jaime said the same thing?

The thought twisted in your gut.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to take a bite, the taste of salt and overcooked meat filling your mouth.

What now?

You had ridden away, but to where? To what?

Your family was gone. Your mother was a ghost of herself, if she still lived at all. Your brother had been murdered at the orders of Jaime’s father. You had no home, no allies, nothing but the name you carried—and that name had brought you nothing but suffering.

You could vanish. Change your name, disappear into the countryside, live as someone else entirely.

But was that truly living?

Or was it just another form of being lost?

A shadow fell across the table.

You looked up.

A man stood there, leaning against the chair opposite you, his grin too wide, his breath already sour with ale.

"Ain't often we see a lady ride in alone," he mused, tilting his head. "Pretty thing like you—must be lost."

You didn't flinch, didn't move, just kept your spoon in your hand, your expression unreadable.

"I'm not lost," you said coolly.

The man chuckled, glancing toward his companions at the bar. "Hear that, lads? She's not lost. Just wandering." His eyes flickered back to you. "You sure you don’t need some company? Roads aren’t safe these days."

Your fingers curled slightly around the spoon.

"I'm not alone."

The man smirked. "That so?"

From outside, faint but unmistakable, came the low, rumbling growl of Winter.

The smirk faded.

The man hesitated, glancing toward the door, as if suddenly aware of the presence lurking just beyond the firelight.

You smiled—small, cold.

"I'm not alone," you repeated.

The man swallowed.

And then, with a forced chuckle, he straightened, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "No offense meant, my lady."

He backed away, rejoining his friends without another word.

You let out a slow breath, your fingers unclenching.

Winter had always known when to make his presence known.

Finishing the last of your meal, you pushed the bowl away, your mind already racing again.

Tomorrow, you would ride again.

You just had to decide where.

The temporary camp was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the occasional murmur of the guards stationed at the edges. The Lannister banners hung limply in the still night air, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded at Riverrun just days prior. The men had settled, weary from the chase, though their horses were still restless, their breath misting in the cool air.

Jaime sat near the fire, his golden hand resting on his knee, his other hand cradling a cup of wine that had long since lost its warmth. His thoughts were a tangled mess, his mind running through every possible outcome, every direction you might have taken. The hounds had picked up the trail, but you were clever, and Winter was with you. That beast was half-wraith, and you had learned well enough by now how to disappear when you wished to.

Across from him, Bronn stretched out, his usual smirk tugging at his lips as he absently whittled at a piece of wood with a small dagger. He had been watching Jaime for some time now, his expression unreadable, though Jaime knew well enough when the sellsword was winding up to say something he wouldn’t like.

"So," Bronn finally said, slicing off a thin curl of wood, "what’s the plan, then?"

Jaime exhaled slowly, swirling the remnants of his wine. "What plan?"

Bronn snorted. "Oh, I don’t know. The plan for when we actually catch her. You gonna throw her over your horse, drag her back to the Rock, and pretend none of this ever happened? Play the good little husband while she glares daggers at you over supper?"

Jaime’s fingers twitched against the cup.

Bronn’s smirk widened. "Thought so."

Jaime took a slow sip of his wine before setting the cup aside. "I don’t know what I’ll do."

Bronn raised a brow. "Oh, that’s reassuring. Real Lord of the West leadership right there."

Jaime shot him a look, but Bronn only grinned.

The fire crackled between them, throwing flickering light across Jaime’s face, the golden hand glinting with each shift of the flames. He flexed his fingers absently, lost in thought.

"You ever think," he said after a moment, his voice quieter, "that maybe I shouldn’t have done it?"

Bronn snorted. "Done what? Taken Riverrun? Pissed off the Blackfish? Married a Stark?"

Jaime’s jaw tightened.

Bronn let out a low chuckle. "Right. That." He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really shit at being a family man."

Jaime’s head snapped up, his glare sharp. "I beg your pardon?"

Bronn grinned. "What? You thought just because you married her, that meant you knew how to do this? That a wife just magically makes you into a good husband?" He shook his head. "Face it, Kingslayer. You’ve spent your whole damn life answering to your father, playing your sister’s pet knight, and now, what? You’re just gonna turn around and be some devoted husband?" He scoffed. "You don’t even know what that means."

Jaime’s grip on his knee tightened. "I know what it means."

Bronn lifted a brow. "Do you? Because from where I’m sitting, all I see is a man who’s spent his whole life being one thing and suddenly doesn’t know what the fuck to do now that he’s been forced to be something else."

Jaime exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "You think I don’t know that?" His voice was quieter now, almost tired.

Bronn studied him for a long moment, his usual smirk fading slightly. "I think you don’t know what you want, Jaime. And that’s why she ran."

Jaime stilled.

The fire crackled, the silence stretching between them.

"She ran," Bronn continued, "because she knew you couldn’t answer that. Because she knew that even if you dragged her back, even if you played the dutiful lord, you’d still be stuck between what you think you should be and what you actually are."

Jaime clenched his jaw, his mind a whirlwind of everything he had tried to push aside.

She had run.

And gods help him, Bronn wasn’t wrong.

The fire between them crackled, sending embers drifting up into the night air. The sounds of the camp had faded into the background—soldiers murmuring, the occasional rustling of armor, the distant howl of a wolf somewhere in the woods. But none of it mattered. Not really.

Bronn watched him, his eyes glinting with something that was neither amusement nor pity but some strange, unreadable middle ground.

Jaime exhaled slowly, barely above a whisper. “It was starting to go well for a while.”

Bronn’s brow lifted, but he didn’t interrupt.

Jaime shook his head slightly, his voice distant. “Back at Casterly Rock. She stopped fighting me at every turn, stopped looking at me like I was her captor. I thought… I thought we might have a family.” His throat tightened slightly, and he hated himself for it. “I thought she might stay. Want to stay.”

Bronn’s grimace was immediate. “Oh, fuck.”

Jaime glanced at him, brow furrowing. “What?”

Bronn let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he rubbed his temple. “Gods, you’re an idiot.”

Jaime’s irritation flared, but before he could snap a retort, Bronn gestured vaguely in his direction. “You thought? Thought she might just forget everything? Thought if you played the patient, dutiful husband long enough, she’d suddenly want to bear your golden-haired Lannister brats and settle into her new life?” He scoffed. “She’s not some courtly lady raised to play the part, Jaime. She’s a Stark. You don’t just tame a Stark. You either stand with them, or you fucking lose them.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched. “You think I don’t know that as well?”

Bronn leveled him with a look. “No. I don’t think you do.”

Jaime sighed.

“I did everything I could,” he murmured. “I gave her a home. I kept her safe. I didn’t touch her until she let me.” He swallowed hard, his fingers flexing again. “And for a while, I thought she wanted it. Maybe not me, but the life I could give her. The life that wasn’t being sold off to Roose Bolton like a fucking broodmare.”

Bronn tilted his head, considering. “Maybe she did want it.” He paused, then smirked. “But you know what happens when you put a wolf in a cage, Jaime?”

Jaime said nothing.

Bronn leaned back, stretching his legs out. “Eventually, it remembers it has teeth.”

The words settled heavily between them, sinking into Jaime’s chest like lead.

He had spent years thinking of himself as the lion, the apex predator, the one with the power to shape the world around him. But you had never been prey. You had been something else entirely, something he had never truly understood.

And now, you were out there—running, wild and free, with only the night and your direwolf for company.

Jaime exhaled, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “So what do I do, then?”

Bronn snorted. “Jaime Lannister asking me for advice on women. Again.”

Jaime shot him a glare.

Bronn grinned. “Look. I don’t know what you do. Maybe you chase her down, throw her over your horse, and drag her back like you wanted. Maybe you let her go and hope she comes back on her own.” He shrugged. “But you better figure out what the fuck you actually want before you do anything. Otherwise, you’ll lose her the moment you catch her.”

Jaime clenched his jaw, the words cutting deeper than he cared to admit.

He had spent his life being so many things—a son, a brother, a knight, a Kingslayer. He had never learned how to be a husband.

And now, he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

The village was small, the kind of place that barely warranted a name on a map, tucked between rolling hills and thick woodland. It was the sort of place war rarely touched, save for the occasional passing army or desperate deserters seeking refuge. The road leading into it was lined with weathered cottages, their thatched roofs sagging under the weight of time. A few wary eyes peeked from windows as Jaime and his men rode in, their crimson banners muted in the dusty morning light.

Bronn pulled his horse up beside Jaime’s, glancing around with mild disinterest. “Charming little shithole,” he muttered. “Bet the best drink here tastes like rat’s piss.”

Jaime ignored him, his eyes scanning the village. It was quiet, too quiet. A handful of villagers moved between buildings, tending to their morning routines, but there was an unease in the air. He had been in enough places like this to know when people were keeping their heads down, avoiding something—or someone.

They dismounted in front of the tavern, the only real gathering place in sight. The wooden sign above the door swayed slightly in the wind, its faded lettering barely legible. The stench of old ale and damp wood greeted them as they pushed inside.

The tavern was dimly lit, the hearth smoldering with the last remnants of a dying fire. A few men sat hunched over their cups, muttering amongst themselves, their voices tapering off when they saw the Lannister colors. The barkeep, a broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a deep frown, was wiping down the counter with the kind of deliberate slowness that told Jaime he didn’t particularly care for new customers.

Jaime stepped forward, his good hand resting against his belt. “We’re looking for someone.”

The barkeep barely looked up. “That so?”

Bronn leaned against the counter, grinning. “A woman. Riding alone. Few nights past.”

The barkeep’s frown deepened. His gaze flickered between them before he let out a scoffing breath. “Aye, I remember her.” He tossed the rag onto the counter, crossing his arms. “Hard to forget when someone causes a scene in a village like this.”

Jaime’s stomach twisted. “What kind of scene?”

The man snorted. “Came in here alone. Thought it was odd enough, a woman riding in without escort, but then she gets herself into a scrap with some of the local boys.” He shook his head. “Would’ve ended ugly if not for that beast of hers.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. “Beast?”

“The wolf,” the barkeep muttered, like the word itself tasted foul. “Big as a damn horse. Made a show of it too, growling, baring its teeth, scaring the piss out of half the village. Sent those idiots running with their tails tucked.”

Bronn let out a low chuckle. “Seven hells, I almost feel bad for them.”

Jaime ignored him, his grip tightening against his belt. He could see it in his mind—the way you must have stood, chin high, refusing to back down. How many times had he seen that defiance in your eyes? How many times had you thrown his own power back in his face, unyielding in your stubbornness?

The barkeep exhaled sharply. “Didn’t stay long. Left not long after that. Took off before sunrise.” He shook his head. “Good riddance.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched. “Which way?”

The man jerked his chin toward the road leading south, past the tree line. “Didn’t ask her destination. Wasn’t my business.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “But if she’s got half a brain, she’ll stay gone.”

Jaime held his gaze, cold and steady. “We’ll see about that.”

He turned sharply, pushing back out into the morning light. The village still had its eyes on them, whispers stirring between those bold enough to watch.

Bronn followed after him, swinging easily into his saddle. “So, what now?”

Jaime mounted his horse, his expression unreadable.

“We follow the trail.”

The air was crisp, the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves thick as Jaime rode through the dense woodland. The morning mist had yet to fully burn away, clinging to the undergrowth like ghostly fingers, making the world feel smaller, more confined. The only sounds were the rustling of trees, the occasional snort of a horse, and the low, eager growls of the hounds sniffing through the brush.

They had been riding for two days since leaving the village, following little more than vague tracks and the instinct that you wouldn’t simply disappear without a trace. And now—finally—the dogs had picked up something.

Jaime felt his pulse quicken as the lead hound, a large black-and-brown beast with a nose sharper than a blade, let out a deep-throated howl.

Bronn, riding beside him, lifted a brow. “Well, well. Looks like the bitch is close.”

Jaime shot him a glare, but Bronn only smirked.

Ahead, the handlers urged the dogs forward, their bodies low to the ground, sniffing, their tails stiff with anticipation. The pack veered slightly to the right, pushing deeper into the trees, their excitement growing.

Jaime’s grip on the reins tightened. “How fresh is it?”

One of the handlers glanced back, his weathered face set in concentration. “Few hours, maybe less.”

Jaime exhaled, his mind racing. You were close. So close.

Bronn let out a low whistle. “Gotta hand it to her, she’s got a good head start. Clever girl.”

Jaime said nothing, his jaw tightening. You were clever. Always had been. But even the cleverest wolf could be run to ground if the hunt was determined enough.

The dogs pushed onward, their paws kicking up leaves and dirt. The men followed, careful to stay within sight of the hounds while scanning the woods for any sign of movement.

Jaime’s eyes flickered through the trees, searching for any telltale sign of you—perhaps a glimpse of dark fabric between the branches, a stir in the underbrush that was not caused by the wind. But the forest remained still, save for the hounds forging ahead, their howls carrying through the morning air.

Bronn adjusted his grip on the reins, tilting his head toward Jaime. “So, what’s the grand plan here? You catch her and drag her back kicking and screaming like we talked?”

Jaime’s grip tightened on the reins. “If I have to.”

Bronn snorted. “Right. Because that’ll make her real eager to be your loving wife.”

Jaime ignored him, his gaze never leaving the trees.

Bronn sighed, stretching in his saddle. “Look, Jaime, you ever think maybe you ought to just let her go?”

Jaime’s head snapped toward him. “No.”

Bronn raised his brows. “No? That’s it? No consideration, no thinking it through, just no?”

Jaime turned back to the path ahead, his expression unreadable. “She’s mine.”

Bronn let out a short laugh. “And does she know that? Because from what I’ve seen, she seems pretty set on not being anybody’s anything.”

Jaime exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “She’s not safe out here.”

Bronn gave him a knowing look. “That why you’re after her? Or is that just what you keep telling yourself?”

Jaime didn’t answer.

The truth of it lay somewhere between the two, tangled and messy, caught between what he had been and what he was becoming.

The dogs suddenly surged forward, their barks growing louder, more frantic. The handlers struggled to keep them in check as they pulled against their leads, noses buried in the dirt.

Jaime’s pulse quickened.

The scent was fresh.

You were close.

Very close.

Bronn watched the hounds for a moment before shaking his head. “Well, fuck me. Looks like we’re gonna find out real soon how much she wants to be found.”

Jaime said nothing, only urged his horse forward.

His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but deep in his chest, his heart pounded like war drums.

This time, he wouldn’t let you slip away.

The pounding of hooves thundered through the trees, the wind whipping against your face as you urged your horse forward, faster, faster, branches tearing at your cloak, your heart hammering against your ribs. The shouts of the hunting party were too close now, the baying of the hounds cutting through the forest like a death knell. You didn’t look back—you didn’t need to. You could feel them closing in.

Winter was a pale blur at your side, his massive paws barely making a sound as he kept pace with you, his ears flattened against his skull, his breath coming in sharp, low growls. He knew. He knew they were gaining ground.

And then—

A figure shot past the trees, veering ahead of you.

Bronn.

You cursed under your breath, pulling sharply on the reins as your horse reared slightly. Bronn grinned, his eyes keen, calculating. “Almost had us there, love,” he called over the wind. “Gotta admit, I was almost betting on you making it a bit farther.”

Winter snarled, surging forward to intercept him, but Bronn was quicker, kicking his horse into a sharp maneuver, avoiding the direwolf’s attack just in time.

It all happened too fast.

You pressed your heels into your horse’s sides, forcing it into another desperate sprint, the wind tearing at your cloak, your heart a frenzied drumbeat in your chest—

And then the ground shifted.

A rut. A moment’s hesitation.

Your horse stumbled, its front legs catching awkwardly in the uneven terrain.

You barely had time to react before the world pitched sideways, and suddenly you were falling, hitting the ground hard, your breath knocked from your lungs as you rolled, the taste of dirt and blood filling your mouth.

Winter howled.

You barely had time to gather yourself before rough hands yanked you upward, dragging you onto unsteady feet. Cold metal pressed against your throat.

Bronn.

His grip was firm, the dagger cool against your skin. His breath was steady, not even winded. He had been expecting this.

Winter growled low, his body tensed, ready to lunge.

Bronn pressed the dagger just a little closer to your throat. “Easy there, pup,” he muttered. “Would hate to make a mess of her.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, your mind racing, your pulse wild.

“You should let me go.”

Bronn huffed a short laugh. “That so?”

You swallowed, the blade shifting slightly against your skin. “You don’t need to take me back. You could tell Jaime I fell into the river, drowned, anything. He’d believe it.”

Bronn was quiet for a beat.

And for just a moment, you thought—maybe.

Maybe he would. Maybe he would decide that whatever loyalty he had to the Lannisters was not worth the trouble of dragging you back to a life you never wanted.

Maybe—

Then Bronn sighed dramatically.

“Ah, see, that’s a real tempting offer,” he said, tilting his head, his grip never loosening. “But the thing is, Jaime’s got a real soft spot for you. And more importantly, his father’s got a real expensive soft spot for making sure you stay put.”

Your heart clenched. “Bronn—”

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” he continued, shifting his hold slightly as he began steering you back toward the hunting party, “I’m a man of practicality. If it were up to me, I’d let you run off and be done with it. But Lannisters? They pay real well. And I’ve been promised a very big castle if I make sure you don’t go running off again.”

Your chest tightened. “You’d sell me back to them for a castle?”

Bronn chuckled. “I’d sell my own mother for a castle.”

Your nails dug into your palms, your body stiff, furious. “You’re a coward.”

Bronn scoffed. “Darling, I’m alive.”

Winter’s growls hadn’t lessened, his steps slow, calculated, waiting for an opening. But Bronn kept the blade firm against your back, his other hand gripping your arm as he pulled you toward the approaching sound of horses and voices.

You felt it—the weight of inevitability crashing over you.

You had run. You had fought.

And still, you were being dragged back.

Back to Jaime.

Back to the cage.

And as the hunting party emerged through the trees, Jaime’s golden armor catching the morning light, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of you in Bronn’s grip—

You knew.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

[nkogneatho]

high school was boring as it was when you were the class nerd. you never got bullied but a part of you wish you did so you had friends to defend you. yeah. friends. you were also all alone. i mean who wants to be friends with a girl who is the class topper. basically everyone else's competition. so when everyone mass bunked the class for a party, it was just you sitting by the window. your professor suggested you leave to since he cannot just teach an entire syllabus to one student, but you insisted to stay.

you popped your earphones, playing mazzy star's fade into you as you revised your notes. your eyes wandered to look at sky through the window. the trees swaying. it was early spring so the air was still a bit chilly. but the sun shone on everything, tall trees casting shadows on the ground. just then, you spotted this boy outside. dark haired, tall and muscly. you couldn't make out his expression. or the color of his eyes. suddenly, he looked up making eye contact with you. you quickly looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks, heart beating faster.

shit. he must think i am a weirdo for staring at him.

but you couldn't resist. curiosity is one son of a bitch. so you look back and you found his eyes still on you. it was awkward. what the hell was this situation anyway. so to ease it, you gave him a small warm smile. he didn't reciprocate it.

great. i am definitely a weirdo now.

but then after a few seconds, his lips stretched into a thin line before he walked away. you have no idea what happened but for the first time your heart felt warm.

when you got home, you found yourself replaying those few seconds like a tiktok edit.

he was cute. wait what? fuck. i should get back to studying.

the next day, the professor was babbling on about a chapter that you already studied in advance. so you once again found yourself looking outside the window with a hope of spotting the same guy. but he wasn't there. maybe that's the most of interaction with him you'll get in life.

when the bell rang for break, you decided to have your lunch somewhere quieter. like on the school terrace. you plopped yourself on the ground, back pressed against the wall. before you could take the first bite off your taiyaki, you heard a familiar faint melody. your legs were drawn to it, following the soft hum, to meet the same guy you saw yesterday. a part of your heart blossomed. he looked peaceful under the shadow of the wall, his phone playing the same song you were listening to yesterday. fade into you. you still couldn't see his eyes. but he did have a scar on the corner of his lips. you don't know what ad gotten into you but you got closer to his face to inspect it further. and in a second, you felt a strong grip on your arm, pulling you closer and making you lose balance as you fell on him.

"it's rude to stare a stranger, you know?" his voice wasn't too rugged but wasn't sweet either.

"i—i wasn't staring. just...curious."

"yeah? haven't you heard of that saying? curiosity killed the cat." he purred. you took a deep breath. and that's when you noticed he wasn't wearing the school uniform.

"where's your uniform?"

"there we go. curious again?" he waited for an answer but he knew he wasn't getting that until he gives you one. "i don't study here. jus'like hanging out cuz it's quite." the sentence surely held a lot of context but you noticed he didn't seem like he wanted to go there. "how long are you planning on lyin' on top of me?" oh shit right. the school bell rang once again. break's over.

"sorry. i didn't—anyways i should go." you apologized as you got up, fixing your skirt.

"in case you get curious again, the name's toji." he smiled, hands in his pocket as he watched you walk towards the door. you turn around.

green. his eyes are emerald green.

"see you around, toji."

[moonmaiden1996]

Part 5 🗣️🗣️🗣️

You want more???? Well, if you insist...

Love at First Sight (According to Nagumo, Anyway) Part Five

You barely had time to react. One moment, you were standing there, trying to process the horrifying revelation that Nagumo had somehow orchestrated your boss’s downfall, and the next—

Warm fingers wrapped around yours, pulling you along beside him. His hand was impossibly large and shockingly warm, an unexpected comfort that would’ve been reassuring if it weren’t attached to someone as strange and dangerous as him. An assassin, of all things.

Nagumo held your hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if he had done it a thousand times before. And before you could jerk away, he was already walking, gently but relentlessly tugging you along. To anyone else, it would have looked like a couple on a casual evening stroll, perhaps heading to their favorite eatery or to the place of their first date.

“Come on, my love,” he purred, his voice rich with amusement. “We have a date to enjoy.”

“No, we don’t,” you snapped, digging your heels in, but even with all your body weight, he simply pulled you along, like you were nothing.

Nagumo didn’t even slow down.

“Oh, but we do,” he said, glancing back at you with that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “You agreed, remember?”

Your eye twitched. “I was tricked into agreeing.”

“Semantics.”

He didn’t let go, nor did he stop smiling.

You twisted your arm, trying to slip free, but Nagumo’s grip was like steel wrapped in silk—unyielding but deceptively soft. It wasn’t painful, not even close, but it was final. "Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself. And as much as I would like to play doctor, I’d much prefer to do so in another capacity.”

He wasn’t letting you go.

Your heart hammered in your chest.

“Let me go,” you tried again, voice low, warning.

Nagumo sighed dramatically. “Why must you resist happiness, my love? It’s just dinner.” He paused, then tilted his head. “Well, dinner and some light assassination talk, but mostly dinner.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “I knew you were crazy. I knew I should have given up caffeine. My mother was right—It is bad for my health.”

“And yet,” he said, smug as ever, “we are still here... must be fate.”

The worst part? You were still here.

And with every step, the escape route back to Sakamoto’s store was getting further and further away.

Nagumo led you down the quiet streets, weaving through the dimly lit alleys like he belonged there. He probably did.

Finally, he stopped in front of a small, hole-in-the-wall noodle shop, its faded red curtain swaying gently in the evening breeze. Warm light spilled out onto the street, and the rich scent of broth and spices curled in the air. Your stomach betrayed you with a loud growl.

Nagumo grinned. “See? Even your body agrees with me.”

You scowled, but your resistance was starting to waver. You could always run after dinner, right?

With a resigned sigh, you allowed him to pull you inside.

The shop was quiet, tucked away from the busy streets. The restaurant was small, empty, with no hope of calling for help from other patrons. The solitary chef behind the counter greeted Nagumo by name and gestured toward a booth at the back of the shop. The smell of freshly cooked broth hung in the air, making your stomach churn—not with fear, but hunger.

Nagumo guided you to a corner booth, finally releasing your hand as you slid into the seat across from him.

The moment you were free, you considered bolting.

Nagumo must have noticed, because he propped his chin on his palm, watching you with that lazy, amused smirk. “Sit tight, my love. I promise I didn’t kill anyone. Plus, the food is amazing. You like soba, right? They have ramen too, with hand-pulled noodles.”

You froze mid-movement. “Excuse me?”

Nagumo chuckled. “That’s what’s been bothering you, isn’t it? You think I killed him after he quit.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I didn’t. I simply… convinced him that leaving was in his best interest. Not that he wouldn’t deserve it, such a disgusting man. Should we get pudding too? Treat ourselves, it is a celebration of course.”

You stared at him, your pulse hammering in your ears. “How?”

Nagumo hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “How, dessert? Or how did I give your old boss the old push?’’ he smiled across at you. ‘’Oh, you know. A little whisper here, a little well-timed accident there. Nothing too dramatic.” He smiled wickedly. “He got the message.”

The blood drained from your face.

Nagumo tilted his head, eyes sparkling. “You should be thanking me. I cleared the way for your promotion, didn’t I? He was awful to you. Lucky for him, I would’ve much rather put an ice pick through his eye socket, but Aoi frowned on that idea.”

You were going to be sick. "Aoi?"

"Sakamoto’s wife. She gave me lots of great advice. She's lovely, you should go out shopping with her sometime. We could even go on a double date.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered, barely able to comprehend it.

Nagumo grinned, delighted by your horror. “And you’re adorable when you’re horrified.”

You wanted to scream.

Your fingers clenched under the table, nails biting into your palm. Your pulse was erratic, your mind screamed at you to do something, anything, to get away.

That’s when you saw it.

The tattoo.

A swirl of ink peeked out from beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt, intricate and sharp, curling along the skin of his wrist. You didn’t recognize the full design, but something about it screamed danger. People had tattoos these days, but the thick black lines, the sharp design—it screamed Yakuza more than it did a rebellious teenager trying to piss off their parents.

It was the final confirmation.

Nagumo wasn’t just some overconfident flirt with questionable morals. He was an assassin.

A real one.

Your breath came faster. Your mind raced. Your fingers inched toward the wooden chopsticks resting beside your bowl. Not a weapon, but sharp enough to give you enough time to escape.

Nagumo was still smirking, still watching you, completely unguarded.

This was your chance.

Your hand shot forward.

In an instant, Nagumo moved.

Before you could even register what had happened, your wrist was caught—flipped effortlessly, twisted just enough to disarm you. The chopsticks clattered uselessly against the table.

You barely had time to gasp before Nagumo’s other hand reached out, cupping your chin with unnerving gentleness.

His grin was gone.

For the first time, he actually looked serious.

And then—

He laughed.

“Oh, my love,” he breathed, eyes practically glowing. “You are perfect.”

You stared at him, stunned, your wrist still trapped in his hold.

Nagumo exhaled, shaking his head with something that disturbingly resembled fondness. “I knew you’d be perfect, but this?” He chuckled. “Trying to stab me in the middle of our date? How did I get so lucky? Beautiful.” He purred, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist.

Your entire body locked up.

He—

What—

“Let me go,” you forced out, but it came out weaker than you wanted.

Nagumo hummed thoughtfully, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist. Then, slowly, he released you.

But not before dragging his thumb lightly across your pulse point.

A deliberate, lazy touch.

Your skin burned where he had touched it.

“You really are something else,” he mused, sitting back like nothing had happened. “I knew you were the one for me.”

You yanked your hand back, your breath uneven. “You’re delusional.”

Nagumo just smiled, resting his chin in his palm. “No, I’m in love with the most perfect woman in the world... Now, let me order for you. I’ve always wanted to do that.” He beamed at you, his eyes scanning the menu with intense focus. “I promise you won’t regret it. I am, after all, the best husband. Let’s get some sake to share. They have a sparkling one you’ll love.” He giggled.

And despite everything, a small, twisted part of you—a sick part of you—thought he looked very handsome the way he smiled so determinedly at the menu, so happy. 

What the hell were you going to do?

I rewrote this three times in the last two days.... I hope I got it right. I am not sure if I am going to do the next chapter focusing on the Reader or Nagumo or both so please stay tuned. Maybe some interaction with the other characters :P

Like. Comment. Request.

[hellfiremunsonn]

Summer Daze. Eddie Munson x Reader

Summer Daze.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: A sweet moment with your sweet boy

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: none? fluffy fluff fluff (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

Word count: 808

You don't know when you realized this, but somehow on a random Tuesday afternoon you realized that your relationship with Eddie Munson, was the most real and perfect relationship you had ever been in.

He wasn't a perfect partner by any means, but neither were you. He has his quirks that drive you up the wall, and god knows you could piss him off in a millisecond, but at the end it never made you two love each other any less, ending each day with a kiss you goodnight and an 'I love you'

It was apart of Eddie to love so fully, rooted so deep in him to care and love, and to show his people constantly how much they meant to him. Sure he was still rough around the edges, and sarcastic as hell, but one thing about Eddie is that every aspect of him is passionate.

So on that hot afternoon, when you're curled up on the couch in his trailer, nose deep in a book, you didn't expect a simple gesture to have you bursting into tears. 

You had been staying at Eddies for the past week or so; Wayne was off on some work trip for the whole week, leaving the place to Eddie and you to play house, and do all those silly little domesticated things together, that the two of you didn't realize how badly you craved it.

Your calves are sticky and sweaty from where they're sprawled across eddies thighs. He's got a pair of old gym shorts low on his hips, and his chest is bare, and you can't help peak over the top of your book every now and then to admire the sight of your flushed boyfriend.

You keep asking Eddie if your legs on his are bothering him, offering to move them but he insists that you keep them there, gripping them tightly when you try to move them away, so you keep them there. Letting him trail his fingers up and down the lengths of them while he watches the tv with heavy lidded eyes. That lethargic feeling that only comes from the end of a hot summers day; when a nap is just around the corner, and the thought of an oscillating fan rippling its breeze over you and the thin sheet you'll wrap yourself in later sounds better than anything else you could think of. 

Eddie groans before stretching his arms up over his head. You loll your head to the side to stare at him fondly. 

"I'll be back" he says patting your legs lightly before moving them off of his lap and standing up. 

You continue reading your book, listening to Eddie rummage around the small trailer doing whatever it was he was doing. 

A few minutes later he returns to you, handing you a small bowl of fruit cut up with a fork. He hands it to you before sitting back down, grabbing your legs and putting them back across his lap while he sips a beer thats in his other hand.

You hold the bowl in your hand awkwardly, ready to pass it back to him, thinking he handed it to you to hold while he sat down, but he just raises an eyebrow at you. "What?" He says.

"Did you want this back?" You ask.

"No? It's for you babe" he said like it was the most obvious thing.

"What?" You're absolutely shocked.

"It's yours?" He says with a raised brow. "It's like three o'clock and you haven't eaten anything since breakfast, so" He shrugs, still looking at you with a confused expression. "Did... you not want it?" 

You continue to look at him shocked. He just, brought you a snack? without you even asking for it, or even muttering a word about being hungry. He just... did it. 

"You... Made me a snack?" You ask quietly, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, and the back of your throat burns as you attempt to keep your emotions at bay. 

"Yeah?" he says looking over at you, still confused. His face softens when he sees the tears in your eyes. "Baby are you crying?" He asks softly, setting his beer down on the table. 

"No" you lie, chucking your book down onto the coffee table to wipe at the tears that escape. "S'just really nice of you" You mumble, sticking your bottom lip out in a pout while you look over at him. So in love, and definitely embarrassed that it brought you to tears.

"Well you deserve nice" He says firmly, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your lips before stealing a strawberry slice out of your bowl and popping it into his mouth, he reaches down to grab another and brings it up to your lips. You open your mouth and let him feed you, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to it. 

[sturnsdolan]

If walls could talk C.S.

Warnings: Smut without plot, sub!reader, use of pet names, oral (f receiving), fingering, soft dom chris and more

(English is not my first language)

He stopped kissing you to flip you over, your pelvis landing delicately on one of his pillows, you readjusted your hips to make sure he could perfectly see what was between your legs.

"Ass up baby" he called from behind you, caressing your legs by your sides with both hands, trying to hold back all his desires, just to give you the attention you needed. Feeling some weight on the bed you turned your head to find him sitting right beside you, he held your neck slightly with his left hand, forcing you to maintain eye contact, while running his right one through the arch your back had made for him, resting it right on your cheek, giving it a tight squeeze, spreading it in the process to catch a glimpse of your glistening pussy.

"You can't even hide how horny you are huh?" He teased. "I want more of that" Chris whispered to himself while running the tip of his fingers through your wet folds.

Frustration taking over you, you exhaled in desperation pleading with your eyes for him to finally touch you, to fix the mess he'd made.

"Please baby, please" you squirm under his hands, "I know" he mumbled, eyes darkening as he stared at your throbbing cunt, gathering all your wetness on his middle finger, your breath imposible to control from anticipation, he was good at everything he did to you, but his fingers... nothing could compare to the way he made you feel the second they laid on your pussy.

Cutting out your thoughts, a pressure interrupted your mind as you felt two long digits being pushed in your dripping hole slowly, mouth agape, you let your head fall back, his hand holding you steady still on your neck, holding tighter than before, a moan threatens to escape your throat but emptyness took over you the moment Chris took his fingers out fully, you exhale in dissapointment, only to frown your eyebrows in pleasure seconds after as you feel his wet fingers that once filled you, rubbing your clit in circles.

"Fuck yes" you moaned out, mind going blank, it was driving you insane, feeling so much pleasure, but wanting so much more at the same time. Chris pushed his fingers back in, pumping them in and out, "Ahh- Chris keep going" your whines music to his ears, taking your words as motivation, Chris pumped his fingers deeper, curling them as they went in, to reach a certain spot that made your eyes roll back.

"Mmhh Chris f- fuck I can't I-" you pleaded as you lost control of your body, legs shaking, your walls clenching around his fingers everytime he pushed them in, you were close and he knew it.

He pulled his fingers out once again, switching to rubbing your clit faster than ever before, it was so overwhelming tears formed on the corner of your eyes, "C'mon baby give it to me" Chris groaned shoving his fingers back in one last time, even he felt like cumming, seeing you so fucked out just from his fingers drove him insane, your wet sounds made his mind wander to how easy it would be to bury his dick in, how pretty it'd all look coated in your juices, but he needed to focus on you.

"C-Chris I- I'm clo- fuckk" you screamed, hands finding their way into the sheets to ease you from the orgasm that was about to take over you, the knot on your stomach growing as the seconds went by.

Chris's weight had completely dissapeared from beside you, his hand slowly releasing your neck, his fingers kept pumping into you ever so slowly, until you felt him spreading your legs open from behind you, just enough to give him space, his fingers returning to their usual pace.

You were so lost in ecstasy you hadn't noticed Chris laid right between your legs, your orgasm aproaching faster, a series of curses, moans, and filthy words left your mouth, it was the only thing you could think of. "Yes yes fuckk! I'm c-cummi-" just before you finished, Chris's fingers pulled out of you quickly, to be replaced with his tongue, going flat over your clit and entering your hole right after, his thumb immediately circling around your clit, his left hand gripping at your ass, the feeling all together bringing you to the brim. Your body convulsed uncontrollably as you clenched around his tongue, your release coating him, dripping from his chin to the bed, his thumb stopped its movements on your clit to let him fully taste you, his mouth going to placing kisses on your pussy to flicking over it to catch the rest of your sweet fluids. "Chris fuck" you whimpered trying to catch your breath, "Tastes so fucking good" Chris grunted as he used both of his arms to get off the bed, he reached closer to you, his hands finding your waist to flip you over, finally getting to kiss you.

"This is the hardest you've made me cum so far" you confessed as a lazy smile appeared on your face, "Pretty sure I can make you cum even harder" Chris said.

@chrepsi lybae!!

[climbthemountain2020]

Chaos // Revelry - Chapter 1

Elucien | Ch. 1 | Ao3

After a series of heated dreams and strange visions send Elain to The Human Lands, the bond she's been pointedly ignoring for years suddenly becomes too overwhelming to push aside. The close proximity and the mission at hand bring her and Lucien closer, even with new enemies and danger behind every corner. Despite Elain's stubborn will, fate seems to keep finding ways to turn her best laid plans to chaos.

This was a mistake. 

The echoing of his words reared up her throat like acid– burning, clashing, choking her alive. The moonlight ebbed in through the frosted windows of her room as she fought to take in a breath, the loss of control tightening in her chest.

This was a mistake. 

He’d walked away, leaving her stunned in the foyer, her eyes still half closed, lips parted, her heart still beating like drums of war.  

The necklace stung as she ripped it off, the delicate chain sure to leave a mark on her skin, a physical reminder of  the dismissal she’d suffered tonight. The door made no sounds as she opened and closed it behind her, shuffling back down the stairs, engulfed still with the shame that seemed to linger in the dark. The fire in the vast sitting room was nearly out now, no noises echoing through the stately home that held her family inside. It felt like it had been hours since, but perhaps it had only been minutes. 

For the first time in recent memory, Elain had done something spur of the moment, entirely for herself. Something beyond expectations, beyond propriety. She hadn’t anticipated it, the sound of his laughter and approval waking something inside her that had been sleeping before. But when he’d touched her skin, she’d thrown caution to the wind. He could have been anyone, the dulcet, low laugh and hot fingers brushing her skin. Everything since she’d come here had been so unsteady, so unsure, but in that moment, she hadn’t cared about anything except the feeling of connection, the touch of skin on skin, the wanting . 

When he shut her down, that cold rejection threatened to swallow her whole again. The memory of the last drowning her in shame.

“But my heart belongs to you.”

“I don’t want it.”

It had just barely stopped haunting her, that very public conversation with her former betrothed. 

“Not you. Never you.”

This was a mistake.

Was there something so horrible and wretched about her that she was to remain alone all her days? Face rejection any time she believed she allowed herself to feel joy? Feel pleasure? 

She threw the necklace onto the pile of Azriel’s gifts that he’d left behind in his hurry to be gone. To be away from her . 

She’d all but thrown herself at him, and still. Still. 

The walls of the room blurred as she turned to go back to her room, but her eyes caught on a movement outside in the falling snow. A twitch of wings in the courtyard. Azriel, catching his death on a wrought-iron patio chair, rather than spend another moment alone with her. 

The anger rose in her like a tidal wave, taking out from shore anything that had been keeping her even remotely rational about this. He’d been the one to encourage this. The stolen glances, the too-long stares. He’d made her think that he wanted her, that she might mean something to him. 

She hadn’t even really cared if it was him, but the attention felt so good, so soothing after so long of feeling wrong in her own skin. All for it to fall apart the moment she gave in.

Just as she debated going to lock the doors so that he could freeze in the cold, he spread his wings and took off, a draft pulling him as he soared above the rooftop. In her anger, Elain flipped her middle finger to some abstract place in the skies. 

She was so angry , so bitter. She could feel it in her body, a living thing in her veins. Why wasn’t she good enough? Why wasn’t she thriving here?

Always, she’d been the adaptable one, the one who could mold herself to fit what was necessary. And what had that gotten her? She was tired of waiting, tired of baking and quietly growing pretty things and pretending . 

Coming here, she’d thought for the longest time that she could keep up with the way she’d been. Sweet, demure Elain, bred for a life of loyalty and love. She’d tried to still be everything Graysen had wanted, had hoped he’d still want her, especially considering she’d given him her body before she’d been Made. More than anything, Elain had wanted normalcy, the known, to hang on to. Even when he’d rejected her, she’d held on to how she was before, hoping a life of the familiar would soothe the horrid ache that had begun to pulse inside her. Acting this way was all she’d had, all she’d been told would bring her love and a husband and a life worthy of living. 

All it had brought her was rage. Deep, boiling rage that had been held back so long it started to demand to be heard.

The flickering in her chest pulsed wildly as she stormed into the sitting room. She was fuming, her always-rigid composure slipping by the moment as she swept back and forth through the room, the door shutting quietly behind her despite her insatiable urge to slam it with all the immortal strength now contained within her body. The heels of her palms pressed firmly into her eyes as she heaved.

This was a mistake .

One of many. 

A mistake. 

She swore her rage could have torn the entire house down, the feelings swirling within her like a maelstrom, wild and untamed and out of control. The low fire gave small flares as she turned on her heel, pacing and running a path into the rug.

That’s twice now, Elain. 

Surely, she couldn’t be the problem? She’d done everything right, everything that was expected of her. 

Mistake. 

Just as she turned again, the anger in her chest working her into a frenzy, her foot caught and she was falling. The air whipped around her strangely, time seeming to slow and warp as she fell to the carpet. But when her hands reached out to catch her, the fabric had changed. 

Where she expected to see the ornate weaving she knew so well from the rug at the River House, now sat a worn and soft carpet. The fibers were cozy beneath her fingers, cushioning the blow as she’d fallen to her knees. 

She wasn’t in the sitting room anymore. She wasn’t in her house at all. 

A dark living room sprawled tidily around her, full windows allowing in the light of the moon. Beneath it, the glow from the fae lamps lining the street outside cast a soft light across the room’s brick-walled interior. The room was small, cozy, though the hearth was left barren and cold. Untouched. Her eyes adjusted as she took it in– empty counters, the untended fireplace, a half drunk glass of water on the table, the green couch with a neatly folded yellow blanket that looked soft as a duckling draped across the back. 

It was the smell that tipped her off. Leather and apples and pine needles soaked in sunlight. She knew the smell because she dreamed of it. She knew the smell because she’d clocked it the very first time he’d been in the same room as her, and she’d never forgotten. She knew the smell because she worried about it fading from the jacket she kept folded and hidden in a box at the back of her closet. She knew the smell as though it were entwined in her very soul itself, because it was. 

This was Lucien’s apartment. 

Without thinking, she inhaled greedily, filling her lungs with it. That bubbling rage evaporated like water on a hot pan. The sweet release of something she couldn’t have, the taste of embracing what she’d so long denied herself. 

Graysen had been an obligation.

Azriel had been a distraction. 

But Lucien was…Lucien was…

A mistake. 

She bit her tongue at the thought, so sharply she tasted the metallic tang of blood immediately coating her mouth. 

Beneath the overwhelming scent of him, she could detect something else with her heightened senses. A smoky, searing, sweet smell of some type of liquor lingered in the air, strong enough that Elain could almost taste it on her tongue. 

A sound to her right left her frozen in place, every fiber of her rigid as she strained to hear. It came again, steadily this time. The sound of his breath sawing steadily in and out in the next room. Lucien was here, sleeping. 

Elain finally put the pieces together. In her anger, she’d winnowed to her mate. Her very first winnow.

His breathing caught then evened out again as Elain got quietly to her feet. Her chest hummed at the proximity, the gentle buzzing of the unfulfilled bond in her chest a solid and constant reminder of who he was to her. Who she was to him.  

She should leave. She still could. 

But standing in his space, amongst his things, she hesitated. 

Before she could think better of it, her feet were following the cord in her chest. She crept on the pads of her stocking feet, whatever preternatural stillness that she’d inherited from the Cauldron allowing her to move in complete silence. The bedroom door was open, that same glow from the night sky spreading a swath of light across the bed. Across him.

Breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, sheet tucked around his naked waist as he slumbered on his stomach. A broad expanse of dark skin visible from the dips at the base of his spine all the way to his arms, one tucked beneath the pillow and another thrown haphazardly out across the bed. She didn’t miss the textured skin, the lines raised across his shoulders and down his back, a road map of the horrors he’d suffered at the hands of many. 

In her dreams, she’d run her fingers across the ridges, allowed her mouth to touch the one that wrapped over his right shoulder and just barely touched his neck. She ached to do it now. His scent was concentrated here, the potency of it as high as she’d ever allowed it, as close as she’d ever come. 

She drew closer still, knowing it was a bad idea, but much too far along to stop herself now. As she rounded the bed, his face came into view, so relaxed in sleep. Peaceful. The urge to lay with him was so physical and profound that she almost gave in. 

Would he startle, horrified at her presence? Or would he simply extend an arm, the bond that connected them lying content in his chest. In both their chests. 

Her fingers reached out, near translucent in the moonlight as they extended towards him. Just barely, she let them graze across his skin. Just barely, did she allow the heat of him to seep into the muscle and bone of her body that otherwise hadn’t felt true warmth since she’d been submerged into those waters so long ago.

She longed to press her lips against his, taste the whiskey that she could smell on his peaceful, steady breaths. The thrumming of their bond synced with the pounding of her heart, an echo of his.

Would he call her a mistake?

The memory of the vision reared its ugly head, as it did every so often to remind her that this was not in the cards for her– no matter how she might want it. Her, curled into the fetal position on a bed, sobbing. His jacket around her shoulders, his scent nearly gone from it. The overwhelming pain in her chest, the loneliness, the heartbreak, the absence of a bond. 

Even the memory of the vision hurt so badly she could hardly stand it.

She would give her heart to him, and he would break it, too. The others stung, the rejection painful. But if Lucien left her, her mate who smelled like the forest and joy, she would never recover. She would never be whole again.

She’d wanted him from the moment their eyes met across a soaked stone floor in a castle far away from here. She’d been soaked to the bone, terrified and cold, but all she’d seen was him. Her sisters forgotten, Grayson a faraway memory, but then, that vision had flashed, her very first. The pain of it felt so real, the gasp dying in her chest as he’d draped that jacket, the jacket over her shoulders. 

A mistake.

She pulled back her hand, taking a single second more to follow the steady movement of his chest as he breathed. 

No matter how much she wanted this, wanted him, Elain wouldn’t allow herself to open to that sort of pain. She’d never survive it.

She inhaled a final time as though she could keep that lovely scent encapsulated in her lungs forever. As though she could pull it out when the feelings became too much, when she couldn't stand it anymore, the way she did with his embroidered jacket. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

Then, Elain turned and left, quietly opening and shutting the front door behind her as she slipped out into the cold night and back to the River House.

[atsevenam]

hii, wanna req for song matchup!! song : smoke by jaehyun color : grey group : boynextdoor thank youu! looking forward to what you're gonna whip up ^^

cw. suggestive

the soothing r&b music fills the whole building, not enough to blast your ears but enough to set the sensual mood through the drunken groups of people that are on autopilot. you were in the kitchen with some of your friends from college, having the time of your life finally interacting with them after so long.

as you were holding your friend’s weight on your shoulder who talks his ass off about something his ex did, your eyes moved to the common room trying to find your boyfriend that decided to tag along with you tonight despite not knowing anyone here because he was in a different university. you wonder where he ran off to.

you didn’t mind when leehan wanted to tag along since you’d appreciate his company and an opportunity for you to introduce him to your friends. you came to the party hand in hand, when you came across your friends leehan blended in well, quipping some comments here and there while staying glued to your side.

but after a while as your group started growing, leehan starts to be less touchy. usually leehan is open for PDAs but tonight he seems to be distancing himself from you for some reason and then completely excusing himself from the circle after your former roommate starts recalling all of your friends' adventurous college life. 

you tried to come along with him but he insisted that you should have fun and he just wanted some fresh air and after reluctantly letting him go, you never saw him for another few hours. and here you are, stuck in place due to your friend clinging onto your body because he drank too much.

“-and i got food poisoning because of it! isn’t that right? right?” your friend keeps nudging you to answer him but everything goes deaf as your eyes finally find the familiar brown top leaning against the wall in a corner.

you grab the arms that were wrapping your body and throw them onto your other friend on the side, “take care of matthew.”

weaving through the sea of drunk people, you finally managed to get to your boyfriend. “where were you? you were gone for a long time.” you take a hold of his hand but he didn’t intertwine them like he always does, which made you more confused.

“let’s go home, okay? i think it’s already late.” still not answering you, you drag leehan out of the building with his arm around your shoulders and his head buried in your neck, you take a note of the smell of alcohol from him.

as you were trying to open the passenger door of your car, leehan slams it shut and spins you around. his hand flies to the handle of the backseat door and pushes you down onto the cushion seats as soon as it opens. baffled by the quick movements, you try to sit yourself up by propping your elbows but leehan was fast swift to hover over you. 

“sweetheart, is there something wrong?” you cradle his face with one hand, concerned with his odd behaviour tonight. your concerned eyes meet his confused and mixed eyes, slightly bleary.

“...everything’s fine.” you have finally heard his voice after hours of avoidant. “you don’t seem fine to me, sweetie. tell me what’s wrong.” you hold his face still so he’s forced to stare straight at you.

leehan was silent at first, letting his head fall onto your neck, he mumbles into your skin but you can’t hear the words clearly despite being near your ear. “speak properly, angel.” 

“...i didn’t know that the guy who used to like you was coming…”

with that, you cup his face with both hands and bring his face close to yours, “you mean matthew? baby, he was my roommate, of course he was coming.” you were still confused with leehan’s avoiding gaze.

and then it clicked, a smirk took over your face.

“were you jealous, angel?” your boyfriend turns his head to the side in embarrassment and that’s all the answer you needed.

you pull him down and catch his mouth in yours, the taste of alcohol sticks onto your tongue. leehan’s body slowly relaxes onto you, surrendering himself to the gentle passionate kiss as he weakly grips the collar of your shirt. the kiss gets more intense as your hand slips under his hoodie, cold hand roaming around his upper body while you deepened the kiss by pushing his nape with your other hand.

his squeaks unceasing as you start roughing him up, trailing your mouth from his jaw to his neck and to his collarbone while his mercy is on your hands. pulling back from the out of breath man, you admire the work you did, red blotches adorning the pale skin.

“you’re the only one who stole my heart and i never want you to give it back.”

[extinctlesspains]

could we have a part 3 of the yandere wolf? your way of writing feels like it genuinely could happen, cause he is a little freak 🫢! thank you

A/n: Hii!! It seems like A LOT of ppl wanted a part 3 to sensei wolf because he's DEF a yandere. I don't think he's lovey dovey, he's fr a yandere. Okay, enough talking enjoy♡ also, I will be addressing wolf as Xiao now since that's his legal name and well you'll see ♡♡

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 [𝐹. 𝑋𝑖𝑎𝑜]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! sᴇɴsᴇɪ ᴡᴏʟғ/ғᴇɴɢ xɪᴀᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴡᴏʟғ's ʙᴀsᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇsɪsᴛ ʜɪs ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴠᴇ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ, ʀᴇғᴜsɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴅᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ʜɪs ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴsᴇᴛᴛʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇss. ʙᴜᴛ ᴀs ʜᴇ sʟᴏᴡʟʏ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴇғᴇɴsᴇs, ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴏɴᴇ ᴄʜɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ—ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʏ.

⚠ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs sᴜᴄʜ ᴀs ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴏɴ, ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ғᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ᴇᴛᴄ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴀʟsᴏ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏʟғ ɢᴏᴇs ʙʏ ғᴇɴɢ xɪᴀᴏ. ⚠

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

Time lost meaning in the dark.

You didn’t know how long you’d been in this room—days, maybe even weeks. There was no window, no clock, nothing to track the hours. The only light came from the dim lamp in the corner, casting long shadows that seemed to creep closer every night.

And then there was him.

Feng Xiao.

He had finally told you his name, and he expected you to use it.

Not "Sensei Wolf." Not "psycho." Just Feng Xiao. Because to him, he wasn’t your captor, your tormentor. He was something else. Something more.

He was your lover.

But to you, he was still a monster.

The door creaked open.

You were curled up on the bed, stiffening at the sound. You didn’t look up—not until you felt him near.

“I brought you something to eat.” His voice was calm, patient. His accent slicing the air.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. He stood beside the bed, holding a tray with neatly arranged food—rice, vegetables, meat, all still steaming. It looked normal. Too normal.

You didn’t move.

Feng sighed, setting the tray on the nightstand. “Still not eating properly?”

You stayed silent.

He knelt beside the bed, resting his arms on the mattress, watching you with dark, calculating eyes. You hated how close he was, how he made the room feel even smaller.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” he murmured. “And I don’t want that.”

You scoffed, voice hoarse from disuse. “You don’t get to care about me.”

His lips twitched into something like amusement. “You say that like I have a choice.”

Your stomach twisted. That was the worst part—he actually believed he loved you.

You turned away, staring at the wall. “Why me?”

There was a pause, then the bed dipped as he sat beside you. You flinched but didn’t move away fast enough.

Feng ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “You’re the only one who understands.”

Your jaw clenched. “Understands what?”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck. “What it means to fight. To lead. To carry the weight of others.”

You gritted your teeth. “That’s not love.”

His fingers brushed your wrist, featherlight, almost reverent. “No. It’s fate.”

You yanked away, heart pounding. “This isn’t fate, it’s insanity. You don’t own me.”

Feng chuckled, low and indulgent. “Not yet.”

You wanted to scream.

The days bled together, filled with his voice, his touch, his relentless presence.

He never hurt you, not physically. But he was everywhere.

Brushing your hair out of your face when you slept. Tracing patterns on your wrist when you refused to speak. Whispering your name like it was something sacred.

And the worst part? He was patient.

He didn’t demand affection. He didn’t rush you. He simply waited.

Like he knew, eventually, you would break.

One night, you finally snapped.

He had been sitting by your bed, watching you read one of the books he’d given you—like this was normal, like this was some kind of domestic life and not a nightmare.

You slammed the book shut. “You want me to call you Feng Xiao?”

He smiled, pleased. “Yes.”

You glared at him, fists clenched. “Fine. Feng Xiao.” You spat his name like a curse. “Tell me something.”

He tilted his head. “Anything.”

You leaned forward, voice low and shaking. “What’s the point of all this? You’re waiting for something, aren’t you? For me to just—give in?”

His smile didn’t waver. “I’m waiting for you to see.”

“See what?” you snapped.

His fingers brushed against yours, a ghost of a touch. “That you belong to me.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “I never will.”

Feng’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked…excited.

“You’re still fighting.” His voice was almost affectionate. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re insane.”

He smiled, tracing his fingers up your arm. “And you’re mine.”

You slapped his hand away. “I’ll never love you.”

For the first time, his expression flickered. He exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off an unwanted thought.

Then, he leaned in, so close you could see the faint scars on his jaw, the hunger in his eyes.

“I don’t need you to love me,” he murmured. “I just need you to stay.”

Your throat tightened.

Because deep down, you knew the truth.

No matter how much you fought, how much you resisted—he wasn’t going to let you go. His words were a curse.

[designdoll]

This is a little portion of a story I'm currently writing, where a young impressionable art critic invites a painter to her home for a one-on-one preview, not realizing she's just let in a vampire who intends to thrall her! Lesbianisms ensue.

“Speaking of which;” Her smile’s as beautiful as her paintings, and her voice is smooth as her skin. “Could you retrieve the canvases I’ve brought? We agreed on a preview for you.”  By the time I’ve considered the question I’m already outside, Lifting several near-complete masterworks out the back of a blue Porsche in my driveway. They’re each unearthly, surrealist things which I daren’t touch on their painted surface lest whatever stardust which must have been melted to paint bleeds off onto my fingers. I can’t see her on the other side of the glass curtain wall of the estate but I’m sure she’s standing there on the other side of the sun-glare, watching me. I swear I feel her gaze and for such a warm, bubbly woman it’s dreadfully cold.  When I return to Ms. Münter I find that she’d put her feet crossed over an ottoman, cradling her glass from its bottom. When handed her canvases she thumbs through the pile without interest, ignoring my questions and compliments to only click her tongue with apparent dissatisfaction. Each half-realized masterwork is discarded to the back of the pile until she settles upon a small, barely-begun oil painting. The vaguest form of a small, thin looking woman is half-realized. The figure is nude and contrapposto, arms in the air as if to imply carefree dance or animal terror.  Ms. Münter actually giggles. “It’s you.” “Pardon?” I’m blindsided, and furthermore deeply unworthy. “Did- I’m awfully sorry, is it?” “It will be.” With a wily pout she glances from the painting, to me, and then beckons with a single finger. “Over here, would you?” I indulge to find myself standing besides her, staring down at her bizarre portrait. The rest of the canvases are piled thoughtlessly on the floor beside her throne.  “You of know Yves Klein? Bodies as brushes, rare pigments?” “I found it rather sexist.” She admires the canvas with a knowing nod. “We can do better.” Münter places a cold hand between my shoulderblades and guides me lower, bent over until I’m hovering right besides her, just under eye-level. I instinctively grab the chair to steady myself, failing to choke down a girlish squeak. I can feel her heavy breath against my cheek and I can’t tell between the two which is warmer.  “Do you handle pain well?” The question hangs in the air. My eyes widen and for her, that’s easily enough. She leans towards me, sculpted lips parting to reveal flawless white teeth in the far corner of my vision. There’s not even a moment to pull away before I feel a pressure on my neck.  It’s painful, blindingly tight and when I try to lurch I feel my strength gone. I sit there like a pet resting across the chair’s armrest even as I feel the skin break, even as the tendons from my shoulder to my jaw feel so tight they may snap at both ends. My throat feels crushed to the point I might suffocate and a warm stream of what I pretend is just drool flows from where her teeth meet my flesh.  She holds the canvas beneath us and I watch it catch the steady drip of blood, mixed slick with spittle. While the blot widens to a rippling pool she turns from biting to suckling at my neck as if a lover. She hardly makes a noise, dignified and ideal while her fresh “paint” runs down her chin.

[221beeeeeee]

Angsty post-Show Johnlock one shot🔎🫶🏻

Tldr- john moves back to Baker street with Rosie. Life returns to “normal”. Sherlock puts himself in danger as per usual, pissing off a grieving Watson. John angrily kisses him. Uhuh what are we?

John moves back into Baker Street without a word. There’s no dramatic declaration, no discussion, no moment of decision. It just happens. One night, he falls asleep on the sofa after a case, too exhausted to make it back to his own flat. Then it’s two nights. Then his old room is mysteriously clear of dust, the sheets changed, his things tucked neatly into place as if they’d never left. His mug appears next to Sherlock’s in the mornings. Rosie’s toys end up in the corners of the sitting room, as much a part of 221B as the skull on the mantle or the bullet holes in the wall.

Sherlock never asks. Then again, he never had to.

Instead, he adjusts. He makes sure the fridge is stocked with milk. He folds John’s jumpers over the armrest instead of letting them pile on the floor. He learns how to hold Rosie without making it look like a conscious decision.

Neither of them acknowledges the shift, but it settles between them, something unspoken and solid.

John tells himself he’s just getting used to things again. That’s all. That’s why he watches Sherlock too long when he’s thinking. Why his eyes trace the way Sherlock’s fingers move, the way his mouth tightens in concentration. Why he catches himself cataloguing the small, unconscious ways Sherlock has changed since the fall.

Sherlock pretends not to notice. He’s good at pretending. At ignoring the way John leans against the kitchen counter in the mornings, sipping his tea, watching him like he’s measuring something. He doesn’t let his voice falter when John stands too close, doesn’t allow himself to react when John’s hand lingers just a second longer than it should.

Nothing changes. But everything changes.

Then comes the case.

Sherlock is reckless. He always is. But this time is different.

This time, John watches him step into danger like he has nothing to lose. Like he’s still the man he was before the fall, before Mary, before Rosie before John came back.

And John snaps.

The moment they’re safe, the moment the adrenaline crashes through him, John rounds on him.

"What the hell was that?!" His voice shakes. His hands shake. His whole body is still thrumming with the aftershock of almost losing him.

Sherlock blinks at him, expression infuriatingly blank. “I handled it.”

John laughs. It’s bitter, hollow. “Handled it? Handled it? You nearly got yourself killed, Sherlock!”

Sherlock tilts his head, unreadable as ever. “It wasn’t even”

John shoves him. Not playfully, not lightly. Just enough. Enough to make him feel it.

"You don’t get to do that.” John’s voice is hoarse now, rough with something dangerous curling at the edges. “Not anymore. Not after everything. You don’t” He cuts himself off, breathing hard, hands clenching into fists.

Sherlock doesn’t move, doesn’t react. Just watches.

Waiting.

John exhales sharply, fists still curled tight. Then, before he even thinks, before he can stop himself,

He grabs Sherlock’s coat and pulls him in.

The kiss isn’t soft. It isn’t careful. It’s furious, desperate; you absolute bastard, don’t you dare leave me.

Sherlock doesn’t react at first. Just lets it happen. His hands don’t move. His body doesn’t lean forward or away.

John pulls back first, breathless, his hand still gripping the front of Sherlock’s coat. Sherlock doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. Just stares, wide-eyed, lips parted like he’s about to speak but can’t seem to find the words.

John’s jaw clenches. His hand twitches where it still rests against Sherlock’s chest before he abruptly lets go, shoving Sherlock back a step.

Then he turns sharply on his heel and strides toward the curb.

Sherlock doesn’t follow at first. He stands there, frozen, eyes still locked on John like he’s just had the wind knocked out of him. His hand lifts slowly, almost unconsciously, pressing to the spot where John’s mouth had been just seconds ago. His fingers curl against his skin, like he can still feel it.

John raises an arm. A cab slows, tires hissing against the wet pavement. He wrenches the door open before turning back toward Sherlock, his voice low but sharp.

"Get in the cab."

Sherlock swallows, still unmoving, still wide-eyed, still standing there like a child caught red-handed.

John’s fingers tighten around the edge of the door.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock blinks. Breathes in. Exhales. Then, finally, finally, he moves, stepping forward, lowering himself into the cab without a word.

John follows, slamming the door shut behind them. The cab pulls away, and neither of them look at each other.

The cab is silent except for the sound of John’s heavy breathing, still sharp at the edges, still rough with everything he isn’t saying. His hand rests on the seat between them, fingers curled loosely, like he hasn’t quite decided if he’s clenching a fist or letting go.

Sherlock is still. Too still. Pressed into the corner of the seat like he’s trying to disappear into it, like a child waiting to be scolded. His hands are in his lap, his coat pulled tight around him. He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t explain, doesn’t defend himself.

Then, finally, softly, hesitantly—“I’m sorry.”

John exhales through his nose, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at Sherlock, just keeps staring ahead, his body still humming with anger, with panic, with the fear that hasn’t left him yet.

And then Sherlock moves.

Slow. Careful. His hand lifts from where it’s curled in his lap, hovering for a moment, hesitant, before he finally lets it settle, just barely, on top of John’s.

Not holding. Not gripping. Just resting.

The tips of his first two fingers brush against John’s knuckles, a ghost of a touch, featherlight and barely there.

A silent apology.

John doesn’t react. Not at first. His breathing is still too heavy, his pulse still too fast.

But he doesn’t pull away.

Sherlock stays where he is, unmoving, waiting.

Then, slowly, John shifts. His fingers flex, hesitating for just a second before his palm turns upward, meeting Sherlock’s touch. Their fingers brush, then intertwine, warm and solid between them.

Sherlock doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe. Just lets it happen and John squeezes his hand as a silent,”I accept your apology”

The rest of the cab ride home is silent

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: Mulder, Scully, and Season 8 Healing

Here's my heart. *plop* You now hold it in your hands.

I kept this list a little tortured but not dark. A little angst, but on the mend. A little "oh no" leading to an inevitable "oh yes." A little bit of "Does Mulder know he's the father?" and "Mulder assumed anyway" to keep things hoppin'.

So! Let's read some post Three Words healing, shall we?

**Note**: Honorary mention goes to Jenna Tooms's Season 9 AU “An Acceptable Level of Happiness” , which tackles a lot of Mulder's lingering PTSD from Scully's perspective (scars are mentioned.)

Loose chronological order below~

pinebluffvariant's

Allo

She almost wishes she was showing already, so words would be unnecessary. We’re having a baby, Mulder, her body would sing, we made this, you and I. I’m so happy you’re here. She checks with his speech therapist: he has no comprehension or processing issues. She’ll tell him soon. They'll deal with all of it, anything the world throws their way, the nightmares and the daydreams and the everyday.

AU-- Post Requiem Mulder is returned two months later, aphasic but on the mend.

On Re-Entry

Scully sits with one hand on her growing belly and looks him square in the eye. She is beautiful. She is frightening. She feeds him vanilla pudding and he tries to make a joke about it, tries to wink and rasp to her that this flavor is his second favorite in the world, after her. She closes her eyes against her tears and tips her head up. She licks her lips and shakes her head and nods and exhales loudly. She picks up the spoon again.

Once, he tries to reach out to her. 

Three Words Mulder feels stonewalled after each attempt to reach out to Scully.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's

oregon forest

 Mulder doesn’t leave her side at the hospital. It might seem like a given, but Scully knows that it is certainly not, so she is grateful that they are more or less humored. (She assumes it has something to do with Skinner, who keeps looking at them with haunted, guilty eyes. Some clue to how he’s fared since their disappearance.)

AU-- Requiem Mulder and Scully are abducted together.

ashes and dust and here

Scully leaves to find the doctor and Mulder stays in the chair, makes no move towards the stack of clothes in the corner. Maybe he should've tried to go with her; he hates to be alone. His memories rush in like running water, invading the corners of his skull with a piercing sharpness. The ship, the pain. He touches his cheek gingerly, the place where they pinned him, the scars on his chest, but that only grounds him further in the flashbacks. He stares numbly at the wall until he hears Scully behind him, saying, “Mulder, you okay?”

Post Deadalive Mulder is shoved back into his old life-- or into a new life where stimulus, response, repeat seems to be his holding pattern. (And once that mountain is climbed, we get a lil' bit of family fluff.)

s8's roadrunners AU/cold desert nights

She tells him on the bus. After Doggett is finished cutting the slug out of her, because she’s shouting that it needs to be cut out and Mulder wants to do it but he can’t. His hands are shaking too badly. So he holds hers, lets her squeeze the life out of them as she screams, as the cultists pound on the bus, as Doggett pulls out the slug and shoots it. The cultists are dismayed. Mulder can see the flashing lights through the dusty window of the bus. As Doggett runs outside to deal with it all, Scully collapses woozily against his chest. He presses a quivering hand over the bloody wound at the back of her neck, and he realizes only then that she is sobbing.

AU-- Roadrunners Mulder is returned in time to help Doggett rescue Scully.

11!!

He hears footsteps on the other side, and the door unlocks. It swings open to reveal Scully on the other side, dressed in pajamas and visibly pregnant. She has a polite smile on her face, and then it melts away, replaced by shock as she pales rapidly. A hand presses over her stomach. Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.

AU-- Deadalive Mulder is resurrected... without Scully's knowledge.

Idk if you’re taking prompts now

Mulder sighs, his head hanging forward. He takes a deep, shaky breath before saying in a rush, “I haven’t heard from you.”

She looks at him in astonishment. She can feel her nose burning like she’s going to cry. “I… I wanted to give you some space, Mulder,” she murmurs. “I wanted to give both of us some space…”

“I know, but I…” He suddenly looks lost. Incredibly lost, standing in her front hall, his eyes wide, his skin pale. “I… thought I’d hear from you,” he says in a small voice.

Post Three Words Scully drives Mulder back to his apartment, determined to let him have space to sort out his priorities.

MSR 10?

Mulder knocks on the door instead of using his key. It takes several knocks to wake her up. He can hear her shuffling around in the apartment, muttering just a minute sleepily. She swings the door open, and her eyes immediately widen in something that can only be described as horror.

“I needed someone,” he stammers. “And... you were the only one I thought of.”

She is sagging against the doorframe, hand pressed against her extended abdomen, her eyes still widened... no, that’s not horror, it’s confusion. She is staring at him like he’s a ghost. He winces at the terminology. “Scully, it’s me,” he says desperately. 

Scully hopes that Mulder will drift back to her (and he does.)

scully sold her apartment after mulder’s “death.”/staying

He takes a few unsteady breaths, wiping a tear away. “How long is it since you’ve been home, Scully?” he asks softly.

It’s not because he wants her to leave. It’s not that at all. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to deal with this. It’s just that he can’t breathe. And she shouldn’t have to deal with this, not after everything. She should go home and rest.

She doesn’t say anything at first, and he starts to worry. He thumbs a tear out of his eyes and turns towards her, to see the look of astonishment on her face. He is instantly sorry. 

AU-- Three Words Scully is now living in Mulder's apartment.

snow in april (chapter 1 of 8)/snow in april

He reached out, touching her hip and motioned her closer. She crawled on the bed beside him, leaning into his side, and he put his head on her shoulder. “I'm sorry,” she said to his scalp. “It's just…”

“It's okay,” he whispered, touching her wrist. “Don't leave.”

They scooted down on the bed and Scully pulled the thin blanket over them. Mulder hadn't been able to get warm all night, but with her curled around him he was warmer than he'd been in months.

Her swelled abdomen was pressed against his side and he could feel a tiny foot behind it. He knew that at some point they'd have to talk about the baby, but at the moment all he could come up with was, “The baby's kicking.”

She smiled into the side of his neck. “It's been doing that more lately,” she said. “I think it's you.”

Post Three Words Mulder drives them to the mountains, where he and Scully are unable to leave a very dangerous town.

"You're sure it's not twins in there?"

He was staring at her abdomen with a wide-eyed fascination, hand curling around the baby’s foot; she smiled, smoothing a hand over his hair tenderly, and he rested his cheek on her stomach. 

Season 8 Mulder and Scully enjoy some domesticity at last.

@sigritandtheelves/DarlaBlack's

Ground

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said finally, eyes locked firmly on their feet, on his boots, still scuffed with Oregon mud.

“What?” he asked.

“I… I’m not sure how,” she began, careful with each word, “but it seems that sometime last year, something changed for me. Physically.” She chanced a quick look at him, found only concern and question. He pulled her hand into both of his and squeezed her fingers, offering encouragement. “Whatever infertility I experienced after my abduction… Mulder, it’s gone. I am most certainly not infertile anymore.”

His eyes narrowed at her words, considering them carefully, and then widened as he realized their import—she could almost see his heart beating, could almost hear it over the rattling of the air conditioner. “Scully,” he said. He swallowed. “How do you know?”

AU-- Pre-TINH Scully (and friends) team up to rescue Mulder and live her and her family's life on her terms.

My Life Is in the Falling Leaf

She clung to him as he was piled on the stretcher and maneuvered into the ambulance. His body was healing before her eyes, the scars and wounds disappearing into the ether.... He held her palm against his lips and kissed it. She would not let her fingers leave his body, nor her eyes his face. He read the torment she had suffered, there in her eyes, but had not yet remembered his own. He could answer no questions yet about what had been done to him.

“How long?” His voice was a low susurration that trembled her insides. He fingered the longish strands of her hair, trying to guess by its growth. Her face, too, seemed rounder.

AU-- TINH Mulder is healed in time.

This Last Moment

Months later, when his hand is warm again, but not yet his heart, she wonders if he can see the glue, if he knows that there are pieces missing. She thinks they are both cold and ungrateful. Gratitude requires acceptance, and she is not quite sure if this is real. 

Three Words Scully struggles with Mulder's distant return.

cookies (Ao3)

He’s in the grocery store and he’s not sure what to do. There’s no food in his apartment, which doesn’t feel like home anyway. He picks up a loaf of bread, six eggs, a jar of peanut butter. This is food that people eat, right? He buys waffles.

Post Three Words Mulder buys cookies, alone.

Paresthesia

She rubs his back and the audacity of her comfort breaks him again. He can’t help it, he turns to her, buries his face in her sweater.... “It’s okay,” she whispers, but he can’t stop shaking. Her fingers move through his hair, and he feels her sigh with the contact. “Oh, Mulder,” she says, voice thick with something. His arms come around her waist as best they can. She holds him tight, and they stay like that for long minutes, his face against her belly, her arms around his shoulders and over his back, moving up and down and into his hair. The pain ebbs finally, and in its place flows something once familiar—something that soothes, that holds them together. Love, maybe. This is his Scully, he thinks. He can do this.

Post Three Words Mulder lives in a state of disconnected trauma; and finally, when face with his irrational resentment, crumbles.

(III) Three Iterations of a Birth (and Death) (Ao3)

Before she fell asleep she ran a finger down the center scar of his chest and whispered, “You said stay,” then kissed the thickened skin of it. “But Mulder you need to stay.” Her eyes were two small pricks of light in the darkened room that spoke to him of a deep uncertainty, of real fear.

He gathered her whole self to him in both arms... and said, “I know.” He held his lips to the crown of her head and whispered, “Scully I’m not going anywhere.”

AU-- Post Alone Mulder and Scully finally have "the talk."

Headcanon: Scully’s first Mother’s Day

It’s late—after midnight when she stirs and turns to him. Scully lays her palm along his jaw and shifts her head closer on the pillow. They watch each other and a smile grows on her lips.

Pre-Essence Mulder makes sure Scully gets celebrated.

@myownsuperintendent's “No Secrets”/No Secrets

Mulder feels fine now, really he does, but Scully doesn’t seem to want to listen.  “You need to rest,” she says, ushering him towards his room as they walk into the apartment.  “You’ve been through a lot.”  And he knows where she’s coming from—he remembers after her abduction, the way she had to insist on being back in the field again and even then he wasn’t quite sure about it, and there wasn’t even as much between them in those days.   But resting is the last thing he wants to do right now, when there’s so much else he could be doing.

AU-- TINH Scully finds Mulder dumped in a field, heals his brain disease, and tells him about the baby.

dee_ayy's Burdened

The sight of her continued to shock me, the size of her pregnant stomach visible proof of the length of my absence, and that she had gone on without me. It was yet another thing on the ever-growing list of things I could not, did not want to address or deal with right now. I wouldn't let myself. I'd taken note, and not said a word. And neither had she.

Post Deadalive Mulder overhears the nurses' talk before Scully can properly fill him in.

Kleptomania

“Uh, Scully, where are all my clothes?”

She could feel her cheeks burn as she realized that she had never brought them back from her apartment. She had fully intended on keeping them there after they had buried him, obviously not anticipating any of what had transpired over the past few days. She could feel his gaze on her as she put her head in her hands and mumbled something.

“What?” he asked, not hearing a word she said. She sighed and looked up at him.

“I think we need to make a trip to my apartment,” she said quietly. He raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a smirk.

Three Words Scully and Mulder drive to her place to retrieve his stuff; and while there, the frost begins to thaw.

@baronessblixen/BaronessBlixen's

Three Conversations

“Can I come in or am I persona non grata?” How she’s missed his bad, boring jokes that still always manage to make her smile.

“Come in.”

“Should I have called? I should have called.” He just stands there, his arms hanging limp at his sides as if he has forgotten what do with them. Yesterday morning when he was still at the hospital, Scully returned from yet another bathroom break (courtesy of the baby playing football with her bladder) and found him examining his arms, turning them touching his skin as if it were his first time feeling it under his fingertips.

Three Words Scully and Mulder fumble around their pain and miscommunication back to each other.

Set in “Three Words”./Fictober 2020 - Chapter 14

“See you tomorrow?” she asks, hating how needy she sounds. But she is. Her hands are balled into fists and her nails dig into her skin. She knows Mulder is in there, her Mulder. Stitched together, with the scars to prove it, he’s still healing. There are still echoes of terror in his eyes, darker than she’s ever seen them. Still, underneath all this, there’s the man she loves.

“Huh?” He turns to her, somewhat confused, searching for her eyes. Has he not been listening to her at all? Another wave of hurt washes over her, leaving her dizzy. She should sit down, but she doesn’t want Mulder to make the wrong assumptions.

Three Words Scully nearly faints from her overwhelming emotions.

#64 on the Drabble list please 😊

He stands by the window, still, a mere decoration. When she dreamed of him returning, she never imagined him to be like this. It feels like losing him all over again, all the time. Her own patience is slipping, the baby - his, theirs - is playing football with her bladder; restless like his father.

“Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything," she pleads and sighs in defeat. She wants to yell, too, scream at him to snap out of this and just talk to her. "Mulder, I-"

"It's mine."

Post Three Words Mulder is awed that the baby is his.

Pieces Of Us (Ao3)

“Mulder, I understand you’re confused. I understand that you need to find yourself again. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me. If all you want to do is risk your life day in and day out… I know now what life without you is like. I can’t- I won’t watch you throw yours away.”

“That’s not- Scully, I want to be here. I want to work through it. I just don’t know how.” It’s the truth. A weight falls off him as soon as the words are out. It’s not much, but it’s a beginning. He’s made his choice; it’s life, it’s Scully. He’ll follow her lead.

Post Three Words Scully is surprised to see Mulder at her doorstep, with her earring.

Small Miracles (Ao3)

When he became aware of Scully's protruding stomach and its implications, it dawned on him how much he had missed. Dates and months meant nothing to him, but the growing sapling inside of Scully felt tangible. When he saw her months ago - and in many ways it feels like it was mere days ago - her stomach was toned and flat. Her hair was shorter, her face more angular. Now everything about her is soft. So soft that he's been afraid to touch her, even though everything in him screams out for her.

Post Three Words Mulder is angry at the changes in his life... until his neighbor goes into labor.

Scully calling Mulder and asking him (or implying that she want him) to come over/ A Reassuring Touch

“Please don’t make me guess, Scully,” he breathes into the phone with his eyes closed. Her pain, even with all these miles between them, is his pain, too.

“I woke up and I thought… I was afraid, Mulder. Afraid it was all just a dream. I thought… what if none of this is real? What if you’re not really alive? What if I only dreamed it? Dreamed you? I had to call you. I had to make sure, Mulder.” Her last words almost drown in her tears; he hears them drip drop onto the receiver, feels wetness on his own cheeks.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Scully.”

“Mulder, you don’t have to-”

“I want to, Scully. I want to be there.” 

Post Three Words Mulder gets a late night phone call from Scully.

Don't Prompts: 14. Don't hide it/Prompts & Drabbles - Chapter 55

The first time Mulder touches Scully’s pregnant stomach it’s an accident. As much as he can’t pretend that she’s with child, his mind blocks out the challenges this fact provides. They’re in his kitchen. Nothing has changed here except the level of cleanliness. He opens a cupboard to get a glass. His mouth is dry and in desperate need of water. Scully is telling him something; she sputters words he can’t comprehend. He hasn’t told her, doesn’t know how, but he’s happy she’s here. He’s happy to be hearing her voice.

Post Three Words Mulder finally reaches out after Scully's bump accidentally knocks into him.

doctorhelena's Something In Between

Scully bit her lip and willed herself not to imagine again what would have happened if Skinner hadn't taken a leap of faith. Mulder was insistent. "What would I have mutated into if you hadn't stopped it - how many of those people are out there? People who already have identities, but who won't be reported missing by their family and friends, because they’re already dead. People who can infiltrate themselves easily into society and nobody will ever know the difference. This is huge, Scully. And I don't -" he cut off, watching her face. His eyes were alive.

"How can you-" she asked. "Mulder, how can you just - you were almost -" She couldn't talk. Her throat had closed up again. She couldn't even breathe.

Mulder lifted his laptop off of the couch and placed it on the floor, then moved over to where it had been sitting, taking her in his arms. "Shhh, Scully, I'm here." She could feel him breathing into her hair, but she still couldn't speak. She shuddered. He ran the palm of his hand across her shoulder blades, and there was still an unfamiliar formality in the way he touched her.

Post Three Words Scully, Mulder, and Doggett look into other open-grave cases while she navigates her partner's narrowing distance and her own bubbling feelings. (I particularly love the dive-bombing robins.)

Diana Alexander's Distant and Strange

"Were you afraid of me, then?"

"No, Scully, not you. It's more these memories I have. I can't explain it, but the memories between here and there are distant and strange, and I'm can't tell the difference between reality and the fantasy my mind made up to placate me."

Post Three Words Mulder doesn't know what is real, what is PTSD, or how he can meet Scully halfway.

amorfati3215/Amorfati32’s (FFN)

I have a prompt if you could write it?

“I was nauseous and dizzy in Oregon, don’t you remember?” From the look on Mulder’s face, he did. “It wasn’t the cancer back then, and this baby isn’t the result of any IVF.” Mulders eyes followed as her hands moved to her stomach. “I was six weeks pregnant in Oregon. The symptoms were all there but it didn’t even register because I thought it was impossible, I thought it couldn’t happen.”

“But it did.”

Post Three Words Scully helps Mulder stabilize after she realizes he doesn't know.

In Utero: Missin Scene Challenge (Ao3)

He hesitates for a moment, thoughts of doubt filling his mind again.

But then he sees her sigh heavily and let out a whimper, as if afraid. A tear silently falls down her left cheek, escaping her closed eye, and her grip on her abdomen tightens. In an instant, he is gently crawling into the bed behind her. He feels her sink into him as the mattress dips with his added weight. He rests his left hand over hers, the one that’s protecting the life inside of her. She starts at his touch, gasping as her eyes go wide. He removes his hand, hovering closely so that he still feels the warmth radiating from her skin, but enough to lose the physical contact that leaves him slightly empty.

Post Three Words Mulder has to know: is the baby his?

@cecilysass/eecily_sass/Cecily Sasserbaum's All the Dead Mulders (Ao3)

Surprised, he waits as she leans over to touch his face. He’s taken aback. She hasn’t touched him much since the hospital.

Her expression is intent and serious, and she lets her fingers run over the stubbly contours of his cheeks and jaw, which have so recently been cratered by the scars of death. Her fingers wind up stroking his hair gently, gently.

She doesn’t say a word, but her lip begins to tremble.

Mulder just remains still, letting her do what she needs to. It’s probably the least he can do. Besides, he can’t deny it. Something in her touch is nudging him closer, bringing to life another emotion.

Post Three Words Mulder steals Scully's car to visit his grave. While there, the magnitude of the changes in his life begin to sink in.

Tesla's (Gossamer) After the Ship

Mulder sat on his couch, television on, and looked at his hands. Same hands. Except for the tiny round scars between his first and second fingers on each hand. He supposed no one would really know if it were he, unless Scully could snap on the Latex and get out the Skil- saw.

"Brr-rrr----rrrrummmmm------" he said to the fish, thinking of Scully in a morgue.

Post Three Words Mulder's disconnect is so jarringly severe that he fears he's a clone, turning to the Lone Gunmen and Frank Black and everyone but Scully in shame.

gwinne/Gwinne's Breathe (Ao3)

She noted the energy it took for him to do the calculations in his head, a simple equation that would have been effortless before Oregon. "So you were pregnant. That day in Oregon, you were pregnant."

"Yes."

"I don't. . . I don't know what to say."

"It's okay, Mulder. We'll have plenty of time to talk. Why don't you get some rest?" When she leaned over to kiss him, he swiped his knuckles across her abdomen.

"I wouldn't have gone, Scully, if I'd known about him."

Post Three Words Scully is giving Mulder space, processing her own grief through mindfulness exercises.

@o6666666's (Ao3) 31 for the I love you prompts

“Mulder—what? Are you alright?” She steps aside to let him in immediately, maneuvering around her belly to hover close, inspecting him.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m good.” Then he remembers the implication of his deal with Skinner: he’s not here for him, but Scully doesn’t have to know that. “I just... I missed your company, Scully.”

Her bottom lip twists. He sees her in Minneapolis with a scrape on her chin, at the bottom of the stairs. She is so guileless, looking at him like that: You missed me? For real?

Post Three Words Skinner pushes Mulder to go check in with Scully.

@wexleresque/hellsteeth's as above, so below (Ao3)

Exhaustion from the past week tugs at her despite her anxiety, and Scully reluctantly returns to her own personal nightmare. It begins as it always does. She’s alone in the darkness and deafening silence. Then, a new element is introduced to torture her. The sound of Mulder’s voice, muffled by the lining of the casket, calls her name over and over again.

Please, she begs her own mind silently, I can’t take hearing that. Not right now.

The voice becomes louder and more insistent until she wakes to Mulder’s hot breath in her ear and his arms on her shoulders, shaking her slightly. She sucks in a breath that pulls her fully back to the physical world and opens her eyes. Mulder looks down at her, eyes wide with worry and faded scars accentuated gruesomely by her lamp.

Post Three Words Scully has dreamed about being buried alive since Mulder was put into the ground.

Obfusc8er's One Man's Journey

I lay my hand lightly on her shoulder as she turns away, and she stops suddenly. I fail to summon the words to express what I feel, so I simply pull her close. Part of me balks at the idea of embracing Scully with arms that have known anything other than life, as if my touch alone might be sufficient to siphon away her vitality, the fire I cannot resist. She latches her arms around me tightly, though. Inextricably. No one would believe her strength, I muse. She is underestimated all too often. Who else would deny death the unquestioning acquiescence it demands in order to reclaim a misguided visitor?

Post Three Words Mulder is desperate to keep Scully around, which slowly opens a conversation between them.

@amplifyme/wonderland/Lydia Bower's Light Don't Sleep

The night Scully brought Mulder home from the hospital, after he'd eaten and headed for the shower, she timed him. Fifteen minutes passed before she went to check on him, finding him in the bathroom, studying his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. Wearing faded Levis that barely clung to his narrow hips, he was busy fingering the nasty scar bisecting his sternum. It took him a few seconds to notice her; long enough for Scully to see his uncertainty.

"Oh... hey," he said, addressing her reflection. "I was just thinking that battle scars lose some of their macho appeal when you can't remember how you got them."

Post Three Words Mulder is mixed up with what was and wasn't real, and quickly dissolves the disconnect between he and Scully as they settle in for the night-- finally, together.

Christina Shuy's Wishes, Roses, and Valentines 07 - Time to Heal

"Just... glad to be here with you, that's all." He sounded very afraid, and very sad.

AU-- Post Three Words Scully wakes to find her partner in tears.

Buckingham's The Laws of Coming and Going

He isn't ready for this, Mulder tells himself. He isn't ready to talk about the baby, or how he might fit in to the big baby picture. Somehow his memories of Scully are so much easier to cling to than Scully herself.

As usual she takes the heat off him, cramping up on her sofa and fading to the color of the moon. He doesn't have time to think or feel, just react. Clinging to her hand in the ambulance, he feels anything but numb.

Later, when he finds out that she'll be fine, that the baby is fine too, Mulder lays his hand on her belly for the first time. It dawns on him finally that there is an actual human being inside her, growing even as they stand there chatting about Doggett and his lost son. This kid will need Scully absolutely and completely. The world will change once again, probably before Mulder even has his feet firmly situated in this one.

Post Three Words Mulder sneaks off to visit his grave; and slowly works through his recklessness and distance as the clock ticks down to the big event.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

there are 8394 fanfic tropes i need to read after mulder comes back fuckkkkkkk

i wanna see a good reaction to the pregnancy

i wanna see mulder finally admitting he has ptsd and telling scully about it and about what he remembers

i wanna see scully kissing his scars

i wanna see mulder being more empathetic about what scully has been through bc he knows if the roles were reversed he would have fucking lost it

i need all of it!!!!