#that he figured out how to use doorknobs Quietly

[plaid-n-converse]

love walking to the bathroom at 2 in the morning, to find a bedroom door i Know was closed, wide open

[simplyholl]

Three’s Company

Summary: While on a mission, a mysterious substance makes you incredibly horny.

Pairing: Loki x Bucky x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY. Threesome. MMF. Sex Pollen.

See my Masterlist Here

You knew you’d made a mistake as soon as you left the boys behind. Loki and Bucky were teasing you about how you had gotten captured so easily on the last mission. It was a sore subject for you, and you didn’t want to talk about it.

You walked faster down the dark corridor, turning quickly into the first room on your left. They called after you to wait for them. You should have listened. The door slammed shut behind you, the lights coming on as the ceiling sprayed a red foggy substance on you.

Your mission partners rushed to the room as soon as they heard the door clang shut. They could see inside through the small square window in the center. They made it in time to see you duck down, attempting to shield your face from the assault.

They yelled for you, Bucky’s vibranium arm pounding against the door. The door swings open, both of them running inside, the red fog surrounding the three of you. Loki was the first to grab you when it cleared. Both of them checking you out from head to toe. “What was that?” Bucky asked, concern etched on his features.

“I’m not sure.” You almost whisper. “I think it was just a scare tactic. I feel fine.” They nodded in agreement. Everything seemed to be normal. When they were sure that you were okay, they continued the mission. On the way home, you called Bruce letting him know what happened. He said he would look into it, but you didn’t have any symptoms. So he put it at the bottom of his to do list.

An hour after you made it back, you felt like you were on fire. You were thirsty, your skin tingled, and you were extremely horny. You tried taking care of it yourself, but it made it worse. You thought about calling Bruce to tell him your symptoms, but it was embarrassing. You didn’t know how you could look him in the eye tomorrow after telling him you were the horniest you had ever been.

You decide to go down to the kitchen for an ice pack when you hear noises coming from inside Loki’s room. You stop in the hallway, walking over to his door, you press your ear to it. You hear Loki moan. You have to admit, you’re jealous. Had he figured out that you can’t get rid of this ache by yourself? Or did he already have plans with someone tonight? After another moan fills your ears, your panties become unbearably wet.

Curiosity gets the better of you. You know it’s rude to just barge in, but you can’t help it. You turn the doorknob hoping that it’s unlocked. Luckily, it turns. You let yourself in, closing it quietly behind you. You freeze when your eyes land on the hottest thing you have ever seen. Loki is sitting on the edge of his bed with Bucky knelt between his legs.

Loki’s fingers are tangled in Bucky’s hair as Bucky works him with his mouth. Loki looks up when he hears you gasp. “We were wondering when you would join us.” He smiles, throwing his head back as Bucky takes him deeper. You walk over to the bed. “You need a partner for the cure, or partners.” Loki winks. “We figured it out only moments ago.” His grip on Bucky tightens as he spills down his throat.

You felt like you were going to burst into flames. “Get on the bed.” Bucky commands, wiping his mouth with the back of his flesh hand. You quickly rid yourself of all your clothes before laying down. Both of them hover over you like predators. You’ve never felt so small. Bucky latches onto the sensitive skin on your collarbone while Loki rolls your nipples between his fingers.

Bucky kisses gently up your neck, nipping at your jaw before lowering his mouth to yours. He kisses you hungrily. When his tongue meets yours, you taste Loki. You moan, pulling him closer to you trying to savor it. You suck his tongue, your hormones going into overdrive. What was that red substance? Why did it have you acting this way?

Bucky breaks the kiss to lay beside you. “Sit on my face, doll.” You lower yourself onto him, his metal arm wrapping around your waste to keep you in place. Loki kisses down Bucky’s stomach, stopping at his cock. His tongue swirls around the head before closing his lips around him. He bobs his head, as he takes him to the back of his throat.

Bucky’s moans vibrate against you as he sucks on your clit. You aren’t sure where to look. Bucky looks so hot, fucked out underneath you. But Loki swallowing Bucky’s dick is unbearably sexy, so you focus there. Loki’s eyes shine mischievously when he notices you watching him. His hand on Bucky’s hip tightens as his nose brushes Bucky’s patch of dark curls.

Bucky licks at you, but you can tell he is too distracted to get you off. You don’t mind, you’re enjoying the show. Loki sucks his cheeks in, his hand rubbing the back of Bucky’s thigh. Loki inserts a finger into Bucky, sucking for all he’s worth. You feel Bucky tremble beneath you as he shatters for Loki.

Loki releases him with a pop, his attention now on you. You remove yourself from Bucky, hoping one of them will take pity on you and get you off. You feel faint, the fire like symptoms are almost too much. Loki gets on the bed, you notice he and Bucky are still hard. You shouldn’t be surprised, one is a god and the other is a super soldier. Plus, whatever you all had been infected with had to be assisting in that department. You were used to two pump chumps who finished and rolled over, snoring before you could get your vibrator out of your bedside table.

“I’ll have to take care of you since the soldier couldn’t do his job properly. He seemed awfully distracted.” Loki jests, raising an eyebrow at Bucky. He settles between your legs as Bucky tries to defend his self. Loki bites the inside of your thigh, smiling wickedly as he gets closer to where you need him. You almost jolt off the bed when his tongue descends on you for the first time. Bucky lines himself up behind Loki, fucking into him. Unlike Bucky, Loki’s attention doesn’t falter. His talented tongue sweeps and glides, you writhe underneath him.

Bucky’s flesh hand is on Loki’s shoulder while his metal arm is wrapped around Loki’s torso. You watch as Bucky thrusts into him, the sound of skin slapping and ragged breathing filling the room. Loki licks your clit upward, closing his lips tightly around it. He suckles you as Bucky finishes inside him. You wrap your legs tightly around his head, his mess of curls falling on your stomach and thighs. One last flick of his talented tongue sends you soaring.

Your symptoms subside, but you still feel the heat threatening to come back. Loki must be in the same situation, he lays on his back, motioning for you to ride him. You hop on, hands gripping his shoulders. Bucky sits beside Loki looking exhausted. “That’s it, doll. Take all of him.” Bucky encourages you as you roll your hips, Loki uses his grip on you to set the pace.

You lower yourself over and over again. Loki’s cock hits the right spot every time. It was delicious, the way you fit together, Bucky singing your praises, the way Loki looked at you while you were riding him. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Loki tilted his hips, the angle sent both of you over the edge. When you were finished, any trace of the illness was gone. You lay cuddled together, limbs tangled, enjoying the moment.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @lokisgoodgirl @wolfsmom1 @loz-3 @kats72 @crimson25 @litaloni @zombiesnips-blog @gruftiela @mochie85 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @violethaze @lokidokieokie @buttercupcookies-blog @mjsthrillernp @chantsdemarins @lulubelle814 @anukulee @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @fandxmslxt69 @artemis-13 @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @kathren1sky-blog @javagirl328 @kcd15 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @soggylampshade0 @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mischief2sarawr @ozymdias @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @aoirohi @megharat-barnes-reid @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid

[jellyfishbug]

ROOM 109

pairing. matt x reader genre. smut with plot. MDNI.

! NOT proof read.

word count: [ 4.8k ]

content; brothersbestfriend!matt, natessister!reader, two people one bed trope, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected (wrap it!), creampie, lots of praise, some degradation, use of pet names for context, you & nate + the trips and their parents are on a trip to palm springs. after i finished writing it i realized i didnt make that 100% clear . . .

It was stupid. It was so stupid how this whole thing started.

Everyone else wanted to go to dinner directly after the beach, but you practically had to beg to quickly run up to your room and change. The white lacey sundress you'd been wearing wasn't exactly dinner attire, as well as the fact that it was covered in sand.

You scanned your room card on the doorknob and rushed inside, dropping your bag carelessly on the bed and turning to fiddle with the back of your dress. Several attempts of tugging at it later, you cry out in frustration at your zipper's refusal to budge, the metal completely stuck in place as your dug your nails into the fabric of the dress.

down the hallway, Nate was impatiently tapping his foot against the floor in exasperation, glancing over at the clock that hung above the vending machine. "Jesus christ, the fuck is she doing?"

Nick and Chris both shrugged, simply unbothered by the amount of time it was taking you. Matt, who was leaning against the wall his hands in his pockets, pursed his lips and glanced at Nate, his head still against the wall as he did. "D'you want me to go check on her?"

Nate nodded, "Yeah, n' tell her to hurry up, I'm fucking starving."

Matt rolls his eyes. "Okay, fine." He begins to head down the hallway, arms swaying at his sides before he pauses to look at Nate over his shoulder, "What room is she in?"

Nate thinks for a moment before hesitantly replying. "109.. i think,"

After ten minutes of you desperately attempting to get the dress off, you heard footsteps in the hallway, glancing down to the door to see the shadow of a tall figure. On the other side, Matt pressed two knuckles to the door and knocked gently, leaning his side against it as he spoke, "You alright in there?"

You swallowed, your face felt hot from embarrassment. You close your eyes and knock your head back, trying to shift the tone of your voice from how upset you were. "Uhm- yeah, just.. my zipper's stuck."

"Your zipper, huh?" He laughs lightly, the image of you struggling to get the dress off clear in his mind. "You can't get it unstuck?"

"No," you mumble. "It's on the back of the dress, so I can't see it."

He's quiet for a moment before responding. You watch his figure shuffle around under the door, "D'you need help?"

Your shoulders drop in defeat, balled fists resting at your sides as you huff, "please."

Matt exhales deeply, placing his hand on the doorknob. "You decent? like- can i come in?" he asks, his voice raspier than it usually was.

"Yeah,"

He turns the knob and opens the door slowly, closing it behind him as he approaches you, taking in the view with a small smile tugging at his lips. You turn away from him, lifting your hair off your neck to make it easier for him to unzip the dress.

He swallows and leans forward, directly behind you as his hands reach up to where your zipper is stuck. Goosebumps form at the feel of his hand grazing the exposed skin of your neck. "D'you see? It won't budge,"

"Yeah, I see," he says quietly, hands still frozen in place as he furrows his eyebrows. His hand wraps around the small zipper whilst the other lands on your hip, "I'm gonna try something, just- stay still for a sec, okay?"

You nod slowly, quietly gasping as he pulls you slightly closer to him, feeling his breath fanning against your neck. His fingers curl around the zipper once more, tugging at it.

He slowly draws the zipper down, the cold feel of the metal gliding over your skin, exposing your back inch by inch. His touch is delicate, almost feather-light against you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you let your hands drop to your sides. You want to say something, but nothing will come out. Matt's breath is also labored, his eyes studying the newly exposed skin of your back. "Looks like I got it," he mumbles.

"Mhm." You mutter, basking in the feel of his hands on your lower back as the zipper reaches the end of the spined teeth, and Matt lets go of it. One of is hands still on your hip as he presses circles into your back with his ringed fingers.

"Matt.." you whisper, but nothing else comes out. Your sentence is left unfinished as you step backward slightly so that you're closer to him.

Matt swallows, trying to remain calm and collected as your back is pressed against his chest. He responds, his voice matching your volume, "Yeah?"

"I have to-" you screw your eyes shut, shivering when you feel him trail fingers up your spine mindlessly. "Someones gonna come looking for us, we've been up here for a while- and I have to change."

Disappointment washes over him as his hand falls away from your back. You're right- he knows you're right, but he doesn't want to move. "Okay- yeah, I'll let you change," he says quietly, backing away as your frames detatch. "Do you want me to wait for you by the door?"

You shake your head silently before parting your lips to speak. "It's okay, I'll be down in a minute." you reply, waiting patiently to let the dress drop off your shoulders as Matt acknowledges your response with a nod of his head as he opens the door, letting it click shut behind him. You watch his shadow disappear from under the door, footsteps slowly getting quieter as he disappears down the hallway.

You slipped into a smaller, black spaghetti-strap dress, hurriedly grabbing your belongings before swinging the door open and letting it close loudly behind you.

You run down the hallway, quickly tip-toeing down the carpeted stairs as you lift your head, and your eyes meet the familiar group of boys standing by the vending machines, all looking defeated and bored. Nick glances over upon seeing you, grinning widely as he throws his hands up in enthusiasm.

"Finally! Christ, i thought we'd starve to death. Lets fucking go,"

Dinner was torture.

Matt sat directly across from you at the table. You shared glances every now and then, feeling your stomach lurch at the sight of his hair messily hanging in his face, his pearly teeth peaking through his lips as he cracked a smile in response to Nate's joke. The candles on the table flickered, illuminating his features even more as he mindlessly chewed on his bottom lip.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest lazily, raising his eyebrows at you every time your eyes met. The eye roll he got back from you made him laugh lowly, his tongue prodding at the side of his cheek as his lips broke into a grin.

At some point, Nate and Chris were laughing and muttering amongst themselves like children, both pouting dramatically as they turn to look at Matt. Matt furrows his eyebrows nervously, tilting his head as he reluctantly asks, "What?"

Nate dropped his utensils dramatically against his plate, the clanking causing both you and Matt to grimace in distaste. "You know you're like, my favorite person ever, right?" Nate said all to sweetly, a glint in his eyes you'd only ever seen him use when asking for something he really wants.

Matt all but scowled, his eyebrows raised with an unimpressed look. "What d'you want?"

"Will you swap rooms with me so Chris and I can share? I'm sick of sharing a room with this loser," Nate pointed his thumb in your direction in emphasis, his other hand still resting in his lap. You scoffed, slapping his hand away and crossing your arms at your front with a sour expression. "You're not exactly my ideal choice either, fuck face."

Nate pushed his lip out into an even deeper pout at Matt, ignoring the slap and insult from you to further beg, "Pleaaaase?"

Matt turned his head to look to you.

"'S that okay with you?"

His tone was genuine, waiting patiently for you to tell him your input after Nate's careless disregard of it. You feel the blood rush to your face, realizing now that everyone's eyes were on you, but Matt's gaze in particular made your mouth go dry. You nodded slowly. "Yeah- that's fine."

He nodded before looking away and shrugging at Nate with his lips in a downturned smile. "I'm fine with it if she's fine with it."

Nate smiles widely, he and Chris sharing an excited glance and giggling amongst themselves. Matt picks up his drink from the table, looking at you through his eyebrows and he sips.

The tension was thick enough to be cut, and it was driving you crazy.

Every glance, every wink, every fucking smile.

He seemed completely unbothered at your clearly flustered demeanor, just laughing breathily every time he caught a glance. The thoughts in his mind betrayed him; if everyone at that table could hear them, Nate would've killed him by now.

Finally, after what felt like ever, the five of you started to head back to the hotel. You opted to linger behind the four boys, just by a couple feet - still close enough you could hear their conversation, but far enough that you didn't have to partake in whatever stupid thing they were bickering about.

Occasionally, Matt would glance back to look at you, as if he was checking to see if you were still there. You pretend not to notice, but every time you catch his eyes, you feel yourself try to look away, but you can't. You're completely locked on him and he's holding the key - he's taunting you with it.

You eventually reach the doors of the hotel, rolling your eyes playfully as Matt lingers behind the others to hold the door open for you.

You stop at the boys room first. Nate turns to Matt and places his hands on either side of his face, giving him a big kiss on the cheek and grinning stupidly whilst Matt's eyes widened in surprise. "I love youuuuu," he drags on, smooshing Matt's face with his hands. Matt bats them away.

"Yeah yeah, love you too, kid." He mutters, wiping the spit off his face with a scowl once Nate finally detatched. Nate throws up a peace sign at you before disappearing into the room. Matt bids his brothers goodnight, and the two of you begin to head towards the your room.

You reach the door and pause to fiddle in your bag before pulling out the room key, choosing to ignore how close behind you Matt is standing. He stands with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the door frame as he observes your movements. You scan the key against the door and push it open.

Matt reached above you to hold the door open, and you drop your bag on the entry-way table and kick off your shoes.

Matt closes the door behind the two of you and follows as you lean down in front of the vanity to take off your earings. Matt kicks off his shoes, and once your earings are safely on the desk, you flop down onto the bed without even changing out of your dress. You rolled over on to your back and pull out your phone.

Matt chuckles at the action, and then pauses to think, his eyes filled with wonder at the sight of the one bed. "I can take the floor,"

You almost roll your eyes, shaking your head vigorously as a laugh escapes you. "Don't be stupid, you can sleep in the bed, Matt."

He nods, his lips shifting upward into a smile as he walks up to the bed, laying down next to you. He also pulls out his phone from his back pocket and rolls onto his stomach, and you both sit in silence for a couple of minutes before you finally glance over.

He's really good looking.

It's stupid; its fucking stupid how good looking he is.

The dimness of the overhead light makes it harder to see, but the glow of his phone screen is bright enough that you can see his jawline. His hair is still slightly hanging in his face, and even when he runs a hand through it, it remains where it was before. The occasional laugh at something on his phone showcases his annoyingly hot grin, and the low sound of his laugh.

You didn't even realize you were staring. In fact, you were staring for a decent amount of time before he turned to face you, a smug smile on his face.

Fuck.

Embarassed, your head snaps back to your phone and heat rises to your face, making it flush a bright shade of pink. Matt doesn't say anything - but you know he's smirking at you.

"You good?" He asks, a teasing tone in his voice as his eyes continue to linger on you. The way he said it was so smug. He enjoyed having this affect on you.

You nod quickly, and he laughs. "You sure? You're all red,"

"No m' not." You bite back, your voice still quiet. "I'm fine."

He raises his eyebrows with an amused expression.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

The tone of his voice, as well as how easy the pet name rolled of his tongue was making a fire egnite in your core, and you cross one of your legs over the other.

Matt sets his phone down on the bed, completely abandoning the one thing that was keeping the safe silence. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, head leaning back against the headboard of the bed. "What's your deal?"

The question took you by surprise. What was your deal? Coming from the guy that was eye-fucking you in front of your brother and his at the dinner table an hour ago?

You scoff, an exasperated huff of air as you turn to glare at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You won't look me in the eye- like, at all - and when you do, your face gets all red and you wont talk. Whats your deal?"

His forwardness isn't appreaciated. You purse your lips, finally letting yourself continue to look at him, even if the eye contact is burning through you. "I'm looking at you now, aren't i?"

"Mhm," he says calmly. "And you're red again."

His acknowledgment of it only makes it worse. Your stomach flips and turns as the realization seeps through you, and you try your best to keep your expression hard and stern. "So what?"

He shrugs. "It's cute."

Cute.

You find yoursef rolling your eyes for the millionth time today, "You're annoying."

He moves closer, his movements making imprints on the bed sheets as he shamelessly lets your shoulders touch. "Why? Because i make you flustered?"

"I'm not-"

"You are."

You find yourself closing your lips despite the urge to utter out a snarky response, the heat of his breath fanning against your face as your chest rises and falls quickly. Everything else is completely lost - the fact that he's your brothers friend. The fact that if Nate knew about this, Matt would be on the floor taking his last breath.

Right now, all you were thinking about was how pretty he was, how pink his lips were, how much you really, really wanted to kiss him, even if you would regret it.

"You're staring again," he says, more quiet this time; almost a whisper, but his tone is still arrogant.

"Just- shut up, Matt." You say breathlessly.

His glance flicks between your lips and eyes, lust clearly displayed in his own eyes as he licks his bottom lip. "Can i..?"

You're nodding before he's even finished the sentence.

He leans forward and presses your lips together. It's soft; passionate. Your hand goes up to rest at his cheek, and his at yours. His touch is delicate, even as the movements of his mouth become deeper, his tongue sliding over your lips to colide with yours.

His other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you effortlessly into his lap to straddle his thighs, laughing against your lips when you yelp at the sudden change in position.

Both of his hands are wrapped tightly around you now, holding you close enough to press your frams together as your hands get lost in his hair. He's kissing you harder, more desperate and hungry, like he's been starved.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel him growing beneath you, and you'd also be lying if you said you weren't alarmed by his size. You find one of your hands slipping off of his face to tug at the buckle of his jeans, whining against him when he grabs your wrist to halt your movements.

He pulls away from you, chuckling softly. "D'you want something?"

Your wrist is still firm in his grip, and as much as you just want to whine and squirm until he lets go, you get the feeling he's not planning on doing so until you answer.

"You, please- Matt, i need you." You say breathlessly, feeling satisfied when he releases your wrist, his hands moving to roam up and down your sides.

"Good girl," He mutters before kissing you once more, keeping your lips locked as he puts a hand on your back to tug at the zipper on your dress quickly until the back is fully open. He lays you down gently until your back meets the matress, his kisses still rough as he lightly bites down on your bottom lip, grinning when you whimper into his mouth.

He pulls away to look down at you, kneeling against you so that your legs are on either side of him. He keeps one hand on your upper thigh, rubbing his thumb gently against your skin as he parts his lips to speak. "can I take your dress off?"

All it takes is a hushed "please," from you, and he springs into movement. "lift your arms f'me," he utters lowly, and as you comply, he pulls the dress down until its completely off, discarding it onto the floor. He looks back to gawk at you, "So pretty,"

You feel your face get red again, but before you can respond, he's leaning down to kiss you. He trails his kisses down your front, looking up at your blissed expression when his lips are on your lower stomach. His fingers dip underneath them of your underwear, tuggling effortlessly and discarding them on to the floor next to your dress. He fiddles with the buttons on his shirt with his other hand until its loose enough to pull off, and then on the bed forgotten.

He places his index finger against your lip, tapping lightly. "open for me, sweetheart."

You do just that, and he places two of his fingers in your mouth. You close your lips around them, swirling your tongue around the digits as Matt watches with dilated pupils. He pulls them away and lowers himself so that his face is hovering above your heat, eyes flicking up to watch your impatient expression with a smug grin

He presses his fingers into your entrace, and your jaw goes slack, head falling back against the mattress as you whine. "Fuck,"

He keeps his hand still, pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, then your core, before finally placing his mouth where you want it.

His slow and messy with his movements, tongue lapping at your clit as he curls his motionless fingers inside of you. You're moaning and whimpering his name, pleading for more, but he's taking his time.

He lifts his head, finally starting to pump his fingers at a good rythm, clearly enjoying how much you're reacting to him. "Feel good, baby?"

You're whimpering, nodding quickly, but your expression turns confused when he stops. "Tell me, sweet girl. I wanna hear how good it is,"

"So good," you breathe out. "Fuck, Matt- please, i wan' more."

Satisfaction is smugly clear on his face. "Thats a good girl," he wraps his free hand around your thigh, cold rings pressing against your skin, lowering his head back where it was before.

He's even meaner now. His fingers are vigorously thrusting into you, and his tuck is mercilessly hooked on your clit as your eyes roll back in your head and your thighs lightly shake on either side of him. You tug at his hair, letting out a wail as he groans against you, nails digging into his scalp.

"shit, do that again." He says quickly, his voice muffled as he continues. You do what he asks, feeling the same groaning sensation against you when you do, making your toes girl. His face is slick with you, and he lifts his head for just a second again, "tastes so good, fuck,"

The compliment makes the growing knot in your stomach twist, and you moan loudly as he speeds up his movements, nails tigging into the plush skin of your thigh.

You finally snap as his fingers curl against a particular spot, your thighs squeeze around his head and you attempt to arch your back, but his grip on your leg holds you in place against the mattress.

Desperate cry's of his name flood from your lips, and he lifts his mouth off of you, still pumping his fingers slowly through your orgasm whilst kissing your thighs. He whispers soft praise as he watches you writhing against his hand.

Finally, once you start to squirm, he pulls them out and licks them clean. Your hand covers your face as you attempt to bring your breathing back to normal, and his hand rests on your waist as he rubs circles soothingly into the flesh with his thumb. "Doing so good for me, sweetheart."

The praise fills your chest with a warm feeling, and he leans down to kiss the side of your head. His fingers wrap around his belt buckle until its unclipped and he tugs his jeans down to his ankles, leaving him in just his boxers.

You see the bulge clearly in them, and you gawk at the sight. He's huge. How the fuck will that fit?

He must've seen the nervous expression on your face, because he smiles and nods his head. "S'okay, I'll go slow."

He slides a hand underneath you to wrap around your waist and flip you onto your stomach. His fingers then wrap around your thighs to pull your ass up before pressing lightly against your lower back to make it arch.

Your arms are outstretched in front of you, the pads of your fingers laying against the sheets while Matt loiters on his knees behind you. An impatience is quickly growing in your gut. He's taking his sweet time admiring you from the new angle, one hand on your hip with a gentle grip as he palmed himself through his underwear.

You were not having it.

"Matt- please,"

He laughs lightly at the whiny plea that escaped you, the hand on your hip flying to assist his movement in removing his boxers. "Okay, okay. Hold on," He leans closer to you, his tip prodding at your entrance, and you brace yourself.

He slowly presses inside of you, watching as you grip the sheets below you at the painful stretch. You whimper, and he hums, rubbing his fingers soothingly on your hip, "I know, baby. I know." He says quietly right as his hips meet your ass, finally burying himself to the hilt.

The feeling of him filling you up completely is maddening. He inhales deeply through his teeth, muttering curses at how tightly you're squeezing around him.

He's still not moving. He's concerned at how much you're already reacting, but his demeanor changes when you're wiggling yourself against him as an attempt to get him to move, and he complies, starting to roll his hips slowly.

"Oh my god," you whisper, the stretch turning from painful to pleasant all too quickly. Your toes curl as Matt starts to go faster. "Fit s'well inside me- fuck, Matt."

He laughs lowly, "Yeah?" his tone his still so fucking arrogant despite how breathy he is, and he grunts lowly when he realizes you're pushing yourself back against him. "Such a filthy girl," he spit, "God, just like that. So good n' needy f'me."

His words only make you want more. He's pressing his palm against your back to push you down into the bed further and deepen the arch, which only makes it easier for him to fuck you deeper.

You're mewling now, nails desperately grasping at the sheets as he hits unfamiliar spots, making your eyes roll back into your head. It's all too much - it's all too good.

The lewd sound of skin meeting skin is filling the room, along with Matt's groans and your desperate whimpering. You feel the strong, confident attitude you carry around your peers start to crumble underneath him as he leans down, slamming at a ruthless pase.

You cry out a gutless moan when his hand wraps around your lower front to make his thrusts deeper, and he grunts at the way you tighten around him. "Yeah? that feel good, baby?" He asks as if the answer isn't evident, "Taking me so good- fuck, good girl."

Normally, praise wouldn't be affecting you this much; but the way it rolled so easily off his tongue, the way his tone was raspy and genuine, like he meant it, and the way that he was saying it with his chest whilst he was buried deep in your guts made you love it. It made you want to hear it even more.

You're a whimpering, moaning mess below your brother's best friend, keening as his grip on your hips turning animalistic, nails digging bluntly into your flesh. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"Matt-" you panted, the pleasure in your stomach twisting and turning with every thrust against your sweet spot, "Matt- fuck, m' gonna cum."

"Yeah?" he breathes. "Go ahead, cum for me sweetheart."

As soon as the words left him, you unraveled, legs shaking violently against him as your messy attempts to meet his thrusts stop and you practically go limp.

Your mind is numb from pleasure, the white knuckle grip on the sheets becoming less strong while your eyes roll back in your head, overstimulated as Matt still pounds into you to chase his high.

"Close," he chokes out behind you, his thrusts becoming more messy as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you up slightly, your back still arched. "Fuck, where do you want me?"

Even in your dumb state, you manage to utter out a response, "inside me, please."

He leans down to dig his teeth into the small of your neck and presses himself to the hilt, spilling thick spurts deep into your core as he mutters muffled curses against your neck. You melt from the warm feeling of him in your gut, your hand snaking up to wrap around the back of his neck to touch his hair.

You're both still panting as he presses kisses along your neck and over the faint bite mark he left, slowly laying you back down against the warmth of the mattress. He holds you in place and pulls out slowly, whispering apologies when you wince at the soreness and emptiness that follows.

He tucks your hair behind your ear with his finger, still pressing gentle kisses along your skin; cheek, neck, shoulder, hip - before he speaks. "You okay?"

You nod, "mhm, just... sore."

He nods sympathetically, still touching your face. "I know, sweetheart." He turns you so youre lying on your back. "We can go shower and get cleaned up, but you gotta get up first."

The thought of the warm water makes you sit up, and Matt grins at how quickly you do so. He takes your hand in his and guides you to the bathroom.

You watch from your spot on the counter as he leans into the glass door of the shower to turn the water on, feeling with his hand under the stream to test tje temperature, throwing you a satisfied nod when it became warm enough.

It wasn't until you were both under the warm, cozy flow of the faucet with suds coving both of your wet slick skin that you turned around to face him, a knowing look in your eyes. "Matt?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Hm?"

"If you tell Nate about any of this-"

He grimaces at the thought. "c'mon, kid. I'm not a dumbass." He laughs, and you're both left to forget about the future, and instead focus on the now.

The now being the fact that this wasn't going to be the last time this happened. Definitely not.

thank u for reading! i hope you enjoyed. throw me a reblog if you did, they are greatly appreciated :)

links ..

masterlists !

[steventhusiast]

STWG prompt 18/5/24

prompt: better to ask for forgiveness than permission

pairing/character(s): steddie, the party

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Are you sure about this?" Lucas whisper yells as Will anxiously checks no one is looking down the Harrington house's driveway.

Dustin's crouched in front of the door, poking a hair pin into the lock with his tongue poked out, and Mike is leaning against the door, unbothered, so it takes a second for anyone to answer.

"I'm worried about him!" Dustin finally says, his motions getting more intense as he seems to fail to pick the lock. "I haven't seen him all week! He wasn't at work all week either, I checked!"

"He booked the week off." Lucas reminds him.

"Well then why hasn't he been hanging out with us?" Dustin huffs, and then goes back to his attempts.

"Who even taught you how to do that?" Will asks.

"Eddie, he taught me too." Mike says.

"He's gonna be so pissed at us." Will continues quietly, biting his lip, and Mike shakes his head.

"Better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

"Eddie taught us that too!" Dustin chimes in.

Ten minutes later, they've finally managed to get into the house. Lucas is privately surprised that Steve didn't hear them and come see who was trying to break into his house. Maybe Steve's not even home! Hopefully.

A quick survey of the ground floor reveals no movement, so the group make their way up the stairs until they're in front of the closed door leading to Steve's bedroom.

Dustin determinedly reaches for the doorknob, and Lucas tries to stop him once more.

"I really don't think he'll appreciate this, Dust-" He whispers, but Dustin cuts him off with his own (attempt at) whispering.

"I need to make sure he's okay!"

With that, the door is quietly pushed open, and promptly all of their jaws drop and they stand in the doorway in silence, processing what they see.

Steve is laying on his back, fast asleep with his mouth ajar, and tucked into his side is a very naked Eddie, whose butt is unfortunately peaking out from under the covers. He's asleep as well, his face pressed against Steve's hairy (and hickey covered) chest.

"I told you this was a bad idea." Lucas whispers frantically, gesturing at the pair. He looks to Will for backup, but Will is bright red and his eyes are still on Steve and Eddie, so he figures that's a lost cause and turns to Dustin and Mike.

Mike looks a little red and shellshocked too, but Dustin immediately starts whisper yelling some more.

"Well, he should've told me!"

"Told you what? That he's sleeping with a guy?"

"Not just any guy, Eddie! Why didn't he tell me?"

Lucas feels a hand grab at his shoulder urgently, but needs Dustin to understand what he's trying to say so he ignores it.

"He was probably scared you'd hate them for it!"

"For dating?"

"For being gay, idiot."

"I'm not gay, for the record. I'm bisexual." Steve suddenly pipes up, and Lucas and Dustin look over at him immediately with wide eyes.

Steve and Eddie have shifted a little now, Steve propped up against his headboard with Eddie lazily laying against his chest still. Thankfully, his ass is covered up now, but Lucas knows he's naked and that's enough to make him shudder.

"Hi Steve. Fancy seeing you here." Lucas tries with a (hopefully) charming smile. Steve snorts in response, and drops his forehead to rest on Eddie's hair for a second in defeat.

"This is literally my bedroom, Sinclair. How'd you guys get in anyway?"

"We picked the lock on your front door!" Dustin says, having the nerve to sound proud of himself.

"Right. Of course." Steve sighs.

"Eddie taught us." Mike chimes in, finally having gone back to his normal colour. Will's still flushed, but looks more present overall, and he nods along to his best friend's words.

Steve quirks a brow at the information, lifts his head again, and promptly flicks Eddie, who's still half asleep, in the head. He immediately looks more awake, and glares at Steve as he rubs where he got flicked.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"You're the reason they picked the lock, Munson."

"Oh, look what you guys did. I got demoted back to Munson." Eddie finally addresses them for the first time, but thankfully he doesn't look too upset. More amused.

Actually, now Lucas thinks about it Steve doesn't look upset either. Pissed off? Yeah. But in that older brother way he gets with them, not actually mad.

"You're the one who told us to ask for forgiveness not permission!" Dustin defends himself, and Eddie gets another flick to the head for that from Steve.

"Well, are you going to ask for forgiveness then?"

"Screw you. We were worried about you!"

"Have you heard of phones before, Henderson. And the rest of you, really? Wheeler, I expect it from-" Steve starts, getting interrupted by an indignant 'hey!' from Mike, "But Sinclair? Baby Byers?"

"For the record I did not want this to happen." Lucas says defensively, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Interesting considering you're still here when you could've abandoned them." Eddie snorts.

"The party sticks together."

"Still waiting on that beg for forgiveness." Steve singsongs, and Eddie sits up a little straighter as he adds on his own demand with a grin.

"I want full-on on your knees with prayer hands, begging for forgiveness."

[enhaheeseung]

Here to stay - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warning: mentions of sex, angst, heartbreak, fluff, crying.

Genre: fuck buddies, smut, mdni!

WC: 2,881k maybe a little more

Continuation of “Come & Go”

It's been one month since heeseung blocked you.

One whole month.

It was weird not hearing from you. It felt even more weird not getting up at two in the morning to run to your place and pleasure you.

Because he had cut all ties with you, he was sleeping earlier these days, but funny enough. His body was still waking him up at 2 in the morning, the time you'd usually call for him.

He felt pathetic cause his body was betraying his willpower to move on from you. Even if he was fighting for his mind to be occupied elsewhere, his heart still ached for you.

He was currently lying in bed, his phone clutched in his hand tightly, thumb itching to unblock your number.

"Fuck” he curses out loud and shuts his phone off, trying his best to respect the deal he made with Jay and ultimately trying to get over you, but it was so damn hard.

After nearly a year of being with you, it felt impossible to forget you. It felt impossible to move on with his life and find someone who would respect and love him for who he is and not just his body.

But fuck if he had to choose between you and true love, he's definitely picking you. Yeah, it hurt to be cast aside after being used by you, but it hurt so good that he'd always go back for more and more until you finally had your way and were done with him.

"Laying in bed all day isn't going to help" Jay opens his bedroom door without even knocking.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out after the first week." heeseung rolls his eyes and sits up against his bed frame.

"The guys and I are going out. Do you want to come?" Jay fiddles with the lock on the doorknob.

"I'll pass." heeseung runs his fingers through his messy hair, sighing deeply.

"Well, the guys were hoping you could come so…" Jay murmurs.

"I'll make it up to all of you later. I still just need some time," Jay nods in understanding.

"Take your time." Jay slowly backs out of heeseung's room and closes the door silently.

"I just need some time," Heeseung quietly repeats to convince himself that all he needs is time, but even when he says it out loud, something in the pit of his stomach just doesn't feel right.

-

You sighed as you sat down at your desk at work, completely stressed out of your mind.

You could already tell you were going to have a headache when you got home tonight cause today has been nothing but a shit day.

It's one of those days where, just a month ago, you'd already be planning to call heeseung over so he could work his magic on your body and take all your stress away.

But no, because he blocked you cause he wanted more from you, and when he saw he wasn't getting it, he knew when to walk away.

You hate how you took him for granted. He was a great guy, amazing at sex and even better at cuddling you, and he also wasn't shy about making his like for you known.

You were just a piece of shit that disregarded him as a person with feelings and only saw him for what he could give to you, which was mind-blowing sex.

If you could have a do-over, then you surely would, one where you confessed to him and realized your feelings for him a whole hell of a lot sooner.

But you let your fear of being lied to and cheated on get in the way of your true happiness.

But could you even be blamed? Every man you were with did that to you, hence why you gave up on relationships and only had sexual transactions now.

But even you have to admit that Lee heeseung wasn't like Every Man. unfortunately, it took you too long to figure that out, and now here you are, heartbroken again because you let the past ruin your future. You did your best to stop that from happening and it still wasn't enough.

At least now a great guy like him could find someone who cared about him and loved him the way he deserved instead of someone like you who hid your feelings and was only going to confess after a whole year of practically using his body.

It hurt, but you hope he's happy with someone that's his equal and not a total piece of shit like you.

Who are you kidding?

It's not that simple; you wish it was, but you were going to be feeling this pain for days, if not months. Yeah, it was selfish of you to still want him around even after you played with his feelings for years, but it couldn't be helped.

If only you could have realized that he was worth taking a chance on months ago, maybe he'd be your boyfriend, maybe you'd be living together, maybe you'd be married and planning to have a family and live happily ever after.

The thought brings tears to your eyes, so you push your fairytale ideas to the side, focusing back on work before all your co-workers notice you shedding a few tears.

-

Another week had gone by, and heeseung felt the same. He knows they say it takes three months to get over someone, but how could he stay away from you that long? It was impossible, and that's why he's sneaking out of his and Jay's shared apartment to go to your place; being away from you was killing him inside. Even if you'd only use his body for sex and kick him out, it was still better than not being able to see or touch you at all.

He arrived some odd minutes later and jogged up the stairs to your building, heart racing in his chest, and he just hoped you wouldn't turn him away. He hopes you still at least just want him for sex. That'd be enough for him. Just knowing that you wanted something from him would be enough. He knows it's pathetic. He knows he deserves better, but he wants you, and he doesn't care if that makes him a loser. All he cares about is you.

The clock had just hit 2 in the morning, and you didn't know why you were holding your phone as if you could call him still, but you were. Maybe it was muscle memory, or maybe it was the only thing holding your emotions in check.

You laughed at yourself pathetically, but deep down, a part of you felt like you deserved this pain, and with that thought, you set your phone aside as the silence crept up on you, and instead of wallowing in self pity you were just going to go to sleep and wait for tomorrow so you could feel all these emotions again just this time it'd be a new time and a new date.

The knock on your door stops you in your tracks on your way to your bedroom you shake your head in disbelief because now you were even hallucinating the familiar sound of his knock.

You continued to walk to your bedroom until you heard it again and again, and there was no way that was just a hallucination, especially when the knocks became more frequent.

Heeseung was relentless outside your door. He wasn't going to stop until you let him in. He's sure you probably saw him outside the peephole by now, and he's not sure if you still even care to answer since he was the one who blocked you but fuck it, he was here now, and he wasn't taking no for an answer he needed you, and he needed you tonight.

He heard a soft click, the same one he always heard when you unlocked the door for him. His knocks came to a halt when he saw a faint light peaking through the crack of your door, and within a second, he stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind him, closing any type of personal space you once had. "Heeseun-" he doesn't even let you speak before he's jumping your bones, hands squeezing your waist as his lips met yours in a rushed kiss.

"Sorry I blocked you," he breathes out against your lips, still holding you tightly so you can't slip through his fingers. "Sorry I stopped coming, sorry I didn't answer," you moan into the kiss, hands strongly gripping his shoulders as you try to grasp what's happening.

You were shocked to see him, but you couldn't comprehend anything before you were making out with him, and right now, nothing else mattered but your lips working in perfect sync with each others.

"It was my friend's idea" he started trailing kisses down your neck, his large veiny hands cupping your tits roughly, causing you to arch your back and press yourself closer to him. "Said I should stop seeing you." he nibbled the skin of your neck as you moaned quietly. "But I couldn't. No matter how much you use me, I still want you," he whispers in your ear, his hot breath leaving a tingle running down your spine.

"Wait," you tell him breathlessly and push his shoulders, creating some distance between the two of you.

"Can't." he steps closer, lips pressing roughly against yours until you push him back again. "Please, I'll do anything. Please, just don't kick me out," he begs in a whiny voice. "I don't care if you only want me for sex. As long as you want me, that's enough."

"Heeseu-" he leans into you, his voice wobbly as he says the words he's been wanting to say for what feels like forever.

"I love you." he presses his face against your neck, inhaling your scent as his arms naturally wrap around you.

You hear him sniffle softly, and your heart breaks because none of what he was saying was how you felt, maybe in the very beginning, but definitely not now. "Hey," you cup his cheeks, making him look up at you, his watery eyes boring into your own. "I don't just want you for sex, okay, you're so much more than that, and I can't believe I'm saying this cause I never thought I'd utter the words again but fuck heeseung, I love you too. I love you so much," you whisper, hands running along his neck soothingly.

That's it. Lee heeseung had finally broken all your walls and infiltrated your heart. You thought they were impenetrable, but it turns out all you needed was someone who actually truly cared about you and not someone who was just using you for their own satisfaction.

He looks back and forth between your eyes, obviously confused by your words, and you laugh lightly because of his cute expression. "You don't have to say that just because I di-" You shut him up with one long-awaited meaningful kiss.

He was beyond happy to hear you saying those words to him, but this couldn't be real, could it? He must still be back at his apartment, dreaming of this moment that he had dreamt of a million times.

But your next words proved otherwise. "I know it's sudden, baby, I know, but I love you," You peck his cute pouted lips. "I just couldn't bring myself to tell you how I truly felt. I've been hurt so many times in the past, and I was just scared to move on with you, but I should have seen you were different from the start. I should have never strung you along and played with your feelings. I'm so sorry for everything, and I'm just so happy you're here now, and I can tell you how much you mean to me. You're so perfect, Lee Heeseung," you told him sincerely while stroking his soft cheek with your thumb, eyes full of nothing but love. "And I would be the luckiest girl on the planet to have all your love, and if you're willing to give me another chance, I want to give that same love back to you."

He's grinning from ear to ear, elated by the three words you just confessed to him.

He expected this to go so much differently than it has, but he wouldn't want it any other way. He can't believe you loved him back, like you actually felt the same way for him as he felt about you, and that was absolutely mind-blowing. And now that he thinks about it, he needs to have more than just a few words with Jay, but that could wait till later. Right now, he's gonna enjoy this surreal moment with you, the love of his life.

"Can you say all that again? You lost me at I love you," he chuckles, squeezing you in his arms tightly.

You giggle while nodding and repeating every single thing you said, and he listens very, very intently, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you with so much love.

"So maybe you can prove it to me in your room on your bed. How does that sound?" He scrunched his face up, laughing softly as you nodded your head shyly. "Yeah?" He grins.

"Yeah, I'll prove that and so much more, my love," you whisper seductively, and he visibly goes red, causing you to bite down on your lip to hold back your smile, and you can't help but think he looks so good all shy like that.

How did you ever get so lucky for him to give you another chance?

"God, I'm so happy," he sighs dreamily, staring at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes, and you felt so full knowing that he cared about you so much and was never shy to express it.

He picks you up in his arms, carrying you to bed. "I love you." he pecks the tip of your pretty nose, laying you down gently on your bed and hovering above you. "So much," he adds while leaning down and connecting your lips with his.

"I love you more." You smile so hard your cheeks start to hurt. "And for the record, you make me happier."

"Hey!" He whines cutely. "You make me the most happy."

And who were you to argue with that? Especially when his soft pink lips were colliding so perfectly with yours.

-

It was the morning after you and heeseung were lying down in bed together, his arm around you while your head rested on his bare chest. "Morning," you whisper, looking out the window and tickling his chest with your fingertips.

"Hmm, morning lovely," he chuckles and wraps his other arm around you. "Love you," he says with his raspy morning voice.

"Love you too." You kissed his chest all over, hearing him giggle from below you.

It's funny how it had been years since you said those words to a love interest, but with him, it just came so naturally, like you had been saying it for years.

"I gotta make it up to you, hee," you pout, tracing the faint line between his pecs.

"No baby, this is enough. Just you and me here now is all that matters," he assures you, but that's not good enough. He deserves the world.

"I know, but I want to do something for you," you tell him seriously.

"You don't take no for an answer, hmm?" He smiles.

"Not this time," you say matter-of-factly.

"Tell me what you want to do for me, baby. You were already amazing last night; I don't know what more I could ask for." You blush, hearing his words and feeling little butterflies erupt in your stomach. No one has ever talked to you as sweetly as he has. "Plus, you told me your side, and I understand it's hard, but I promise you I'll treat you right love, be the man you deserve."

"Oh, hee." You looked up at him, and your eyes started to water.

"It's only what you deserve" he taps your nose, making you smile, and now you want to give this man the whole world.

"That's it get ready," you tell him and hop off the bed. You were going to take him anywhere he wanted, buy him whatever he wanted, wine, and dine him the whole nine yards. Whatever he wanted, it was his, no questions asked.

"Okay, baby, but first, come take a picture with me so I can send it to Jay." You hop back in bed and take a cute picture of you both hiding under the sheets, with only your eye smile showing he sent it. Caption it: my girlfriend and me.

"Girlfriend?" You ask him.

"Don't act surprised. You know it was coming sooner or later," he laughs.

"Boyfriend!" You cheer after a few moments of letting this set in and tackle him in the biggest hug ever.

"I like the sound of that. Say it again, baby." you both smile, looking at each other completely lovestruck.

Heartbreak comes and goes, but this love is here to stay.

[END]

Thanks so much for reading! Please leave feedback. I love you all and hope you enjoyed it since everyone was asking for a lot.2 lol🖤

Anyone who wants to be on the perm tag list or regular just lmk cause I keep forgetting.

[necrotic-nephilim]

au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning

(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)

i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3

Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.

Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.

Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.

The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.

And found himself staring at another figure.

With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.

He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.

The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.

"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.

Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.

"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.

Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.

"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.

Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.

He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.

"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.

Too neutral, for Tim.

"At two am?"

"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.

He was shirtless, Dick just realized.

Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.

"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"

"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."

The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.

"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"

"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."

If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.

"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.

"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."

Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.

"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.

Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."

"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"

Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.

"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."

Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.

But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.

Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.

Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.

Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.

When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.

All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."

"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.

Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?

Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.

Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.

The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."

Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."

"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.

"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"

Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.

Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.

Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

So much for his breakfast.

[tender-rosiey]

mourn and want — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: angst version of gojo coming back so don’t say I didn’t warn y’a; also him saying my wife makes me giggle like HEHEEHE

satoru’s vision is blurry. he can’t see anyone except kenjaku and sukuna, though his thoughts immediately drift to you.

he can feel your cursed energy somewhere, but it’s so faint. it worries him so he quickly teleports to shoko and his students. his eyes strain as they frantically search for you, “where is y/n?”

most of them stay silent and he immediately jumps to the worst conclusion, but shoko doesn’t let him dwell on it for too long.

she lets out a sigh and it’s followed by a mutter, “follow me.”

she starts walking towards an abandoned building, probably a hospital, and satoru wordlessly walks after her. their footsteps echo throughout the deserted hallways, along with the sounds of water droplets hitting the ground every few seconds.

they finally arrive at a room and its door is noticeably cleaner than the rest. satoru speaks up, for the first time since they started walking, “is she here?”

shoko nods, and her face is solemn, “yeah, but…” she looks away from the moment, “she won’t make it. she will probably die in an hour or something.”

“can’t you do something? anything?”

“satoru, I tried, but whoever attacked her did irreversible damage,” she takes a deep breath, “the healing won’t even work so—I suggest you talk to her and get your moments. she has been asking for you ever she came out of that attack.”

with nothing else to add, shoko left, but not without patting satoru’s shoulder lightly.

he hums quietly then his hand reaches for the doorknob. he takes a deep breath and braces himself for what he will see. satoru is no stranger to death. in fact, he met it personally.

for some reason, though, he feels like yours will be the hardest to face and endure.

the door clicks and he pushes it lightly. his eyes fall on your resting figure, if resting could be used as a word with how in pain you look.

you’re breathing heavily and your hand is clutching your side. he closes the door behind him, a small grin on his face, “hey, pretty? missed me?”

your eyes peak open and you glance towards the door. a small smile appears on your face at the sight of your husband, “satoru…”

he chuckles and gets settled right beside you, “the one and only…how’re you feeling?”

a wheeze escapes your lips as you try to sit up, but satoru quickly—and gently—pulls you into his embrace.

now, you’re both on the ground with you cradled in his arms. you look up, “I feel like shit.”

“figured,” he smiles while caressing your cheek, “you look the part.”

after your small laugh, the both of you fall into silence. your hand is holding onto satoru’s. you take a moment to breathe then you mumble, “I don’t have much time left.”

his arms around you tighten just a bit, “don’t say that.”

“but it’s true.”

he bites on his lips to hold back his tears, “no, no, it’s not—you can’t do this to me,” a shaky breath escapes his lips, “we still have a future together, a daughter to raise.”

you weakly reach put for his face and make him look at you. even with his teary eyes, he manages to compose himself quickly. you sigh in content, “at least, she will have you, her strong papa.”

“why can’t she have her mom as well? why are you giving up so easily?”

“I tried a lot, but it wasn’t and will never be enough—everyone tried!”

the tears you’ve tried to suppress are falling freely, “but it hurts so much, ‘toru! I can’t go on living with this pain!”

satoru is stunned to his core before he swiftly recovers and pulls you closer, doing his best to comfort you, “shh, I am sorry,” he kisses your temple, “I didn’t mean it,” your cheeks, “I am sorry.”

your arms weakly wrap around his shoulder as you sob into his chest, “I don’t want to die! I want to be with you! I wa—want to wake up to you by my side!”you’re cut off by your sob, “I want to raise our daughter together! I want to hear her sweet giggles every day—satoru, I don’t want to go yet!”

“I know,” he buries his face in your hair, “I don’t want you to go either.”

his hand is rubbing your back while you cry and wail. he presses feather-like kisses to your head, before he speaks, “I—…I want to hear you scold me more. I want to see your messy hair every morning. I want to see you team up on me with our daughter. I want to feel your love and give you mine every—every single day.”

you pull away slightly and you lock eyes. he isn’t crying, but he can’t deny the lump in his throat nor the pit in his stomach. you peck his lips gently and rest your forehead on his, “promise me that you will take care of her.”

his thumbs wipe at your tears before he nods, “yeah,” then whispers, “I promise.”

his face is still so close to your own as your body relaxes slightly in his hold. with a small sigh, you murmur against his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too—I love you so much,” he croaked.

“you better,” you smile before closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

your body goes limp, and satoru immediately hugs you closer, tighter. your face is buried in his chest while he repeatedly and frantically kisses the top of your head, tears of his own dripping to the ground.

his body envelopes your own like he’s fearful of the fact that something will take you away, yet again.

he doesn’t hear the door open at first.

his blood-shot eyes eventually travel to the person who entered, shoko. her voice is shaky as she speaks her name before she sighs, “I need to take her—“

“no.”

his eyes focus on your face once again, “I didn’t get to mourn all who passed—and I will be damned if I don’t mourn for my own wife.”

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[buckysgirl27]

Off To War

Part Nine

40s Bucky x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are married in the 40's. Hydra captures Bucky and commands him to eliminate them. Can he do it? What will happen to future Bucky with this new information.

Trigger Warnings: angst, Bucky's HYDRA abuse, reader WANTS Bucky bad

A/N: Thank you for all the love❤️ It's kinda long. Oops. I guess it makes up for not updating in like forever.

Masterlist

Your room came stocked with a variety of new clothes. Apparently women wore pants now. It was odd. You liked it though. You didn't have to worry about revealing anything.

It also helped with your morning “training”. The lady named Natasha helped you out with that. She was your “sparring” partner. You didn’t understand what half the things were that she was talking about but you were starting to get the hang of it. Sort of. She said it would be easier when you weren't pregnant.

You wondered if James would want to be near you again by that time. If the baby would save your relationship. At the same time though you didn't want the baby to be the only thing keeping you together. You both deserved better than that. You didn't want to be stuck in a loveless marriage and you knew he wouldn't either.

"You should talk to him." Natasha said. She was leaning up against the frame of your bedroom door.

You jumped slightly. You hadn't heard her enter.

"He doesn't want to talk to me," you said softly, "you saw how he walked away from me."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"You know him better than all of us and you think he really deep down doesn't want to talk to you?"

You nodded sadly.

"He's changed. A lot. He looked right through me and then said he 'can't do this'. Whatever the hell that means." You were practically on the verge of tears. Steve came barreling back into your life again to give you false hope again that your child wouldn't be fatherless again.

Natasha walked over to where you were at in front of the closet.

"He's in his room."

You nodded. You had to figure this out at some point. The sooner the better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky heard a knock at the door. He swore under his breath. If that was Sam coming to tell him to stop being an idiot again he was going to have to punch him.

He placed his drink down on the kitchen counter and moved towards the door and yelled,

"Sam if that's you, you better be gone by the time I get to the door."

He was close enough to hear breath hitch behind the door. Good. He should be afraid. Bucky twisted the doorknob and semi violently swung the door open. However, it wasn't Sam who greeted him.

"Um, hello. Not Sam." You said quietly. Then you perked up. "What'd he do to deserve your wrath?"

Bucky let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"He existed." He told you stiffly.

You laughed at that. It was the mostly beautiful sound he had heard in a long time. Maybe he could do this again. He shook his head. No. He'd just hurt you again.

"Funny as ever." You teased.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. Harsher than he intended. Which earned him an equally harsh response.

"I came to see if you were alright and perhaps talk about the situation if that's perfectly alright with you. Since I'm carrying you child and all."

Bucky looked you up and down. Really studied you this time. He noticed how tired you looked.

"The baby. It's really mine?" He asked you slowly.

You nodded.

"Is that what you were worried about?"

You looked at him softly. It was foreign to him but for some reason it made him trust you. He looked around the hallway and noting no-one was there then stepped aside and motioned you in.

You shuffled passed him and he shut the door. He turned to face you. Finally.

"In part." He looked at the ground. He felt ashamed that he thought you would cheat on him now that you were here. But how could you not? He didn't deserve you. You were gorgeous and he was a killer.

You moved to place your hand on his cheek and he flinched. Steve said he was different. You didn't think there would be a world in which he didn't want your touch. You placed your hand on your belly. not quite sure what to do with it now.

"James. I know almost everything. Steve covered a lot. You didn't deserve it," You slowly reached out with your opposite hand to his flesh hand and slowly took it in yours and placed it on your stomach. "but baby, you do deserve this."

Bucky was trying and failing to fight the tears that were rolling down his face. He wanted to fight you on taking his hand but you placed it on your stomach and it felt so right. So familiar. He smiled. For the first time in decades.

"Wanna know something cool?"

You were thrown off guard. He didn't try to argue it. He just smiled and changed the subject. THAT was different.

"Um, yeah sure."

"After you got here I read some pregnancy books."

You raised an eyebrow. He continued.

"You wanna find out if it's a boy or a girl?"

Your mouth dropped open. They couldn't do that. Could they? I mean they could travel in time maybe they could.

"James don't be ridiculous you can't tell what the baby is until it comes you know that."

Bucky shook his head.

"Nope sugar, we can go right now. The doc downstairs can tell us."

You looked at him confused.

"The doc?"

"Yeah. We - Tony - brought one in when he found out that you were - are, pregnant. We'll always have one around."

Bucky smiled triumphantly. He finally did something right. You huffed out a laugh.

"Alright soldier. Let's see this 'doc'. But if you're wrong and we can't find out what the baby is, then you owe me foot massages every day until the baby gets here! Before that though, you need to shower. I will not go downstairs until you do."

Bucky cocked his head.

"Why?"

You looked at him confused.

"Why what, James?"

"Why do I need to shower?"

You looked at him confused. Steve was right. His sense of hygiene was practically gone. What did they do to him?

"Well, you smell like you haven't showered in weeks and it looks like I could pull the grease from your hair and fry some eggs with it."

He looked away from you ashamed. He failed you. Again.

"I'm sorry." He muttered.

You reached for his face, slowly as not to scare him away.

"It's alright. It'll just be something we work on."

With a slight hesitation you pulled his head down to meet yours. You pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. You heard his breath hitch and hope you made the right decision and didn't push him too far.

His lips twitched up for the briefest second before they fell again.

"They wouldn't let me." He told you. "Shower. They sprayed me down with a high pressure hose and said it was enough. Got the blood off anyway."

Steve said it was bad. You didn't know it was this bad. You didn't know how damaged he really was and he wasn't sure if you would be able to handle it. Or if he would. He pulled away from you, ignoring your horrified expression.

"I'm going to go take that shower."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was gone for 45 minutes before you decided to see what was taking so long. A shower that long couldn't be normal for a guy right?

You entered the small bathroom and were welcomed with a billow of steam, and then you saw him. Just standing there under the water. Staring at the wall. Doing nothing.

You walked up to the glass door and knocked quietly. He didn't move. Just kept the blank stare.

You weren't quite sure what to do. You could undress and get in and help him. But what if he wasn't in the headspace and attacked you? But what if he just needed you to help him? If he truly forgot and just needed help, like a child. So you knocked again, a little louder.

He flinched, and turned to you. You waved, and it felt a little silly. He nodded. He was ok. He said anyway. You were going to help him you decided. He went back to staring at the wall and you slowly undressed. First your shirt then your pants. You started taking off your bra and that's when he looked over at you again. Curiously this time.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

You huffed out a breath.

"Well you've just been standing there staring at the wall for nearly an hour. You need help."

His look of curiosity turned to confusion.

"Help?"

You rolled your eyes. Your James would've made a smart remark about shower sex. This one...it was the last thing on his mind.

"Yes James, help."

"I don't need help I"m fine." He said as he picked up the hair conditioner and read the instructions on the bottle meticulously.

"If you need to read the bottle, then you need help." You stated bluntly.

James rolled his eyes. However he pushed open the shower door and let you in with him.

"Happy now?" He asked you.

"Yes actually, very. Now hand me the bottle that says body wash and that thing that looks like a sponge."

Steve had bought him 4 different body washes. All different scents. Just so he could figure out which one he liked. He chose the first one to make this easier on you.

You grabbed the loofah and you soaped it up.

"Alright, this might tickle a little bit." You told him.

He nodded solemnly and you scrubbed him. Hard. Probably too hard but the man needed it.

"Fuck!"

"James. Language. Little one present."

"Sorry." He said apologetically. Too apologetically.

You stopped scrubbing and looked up from that well built thigh. It was so much bigger than before. You were so wet and it wasn't just because you were in the shower. You tried to ignore one thing about him that you missed dearly. His cock. It wasn't easy to ignore. But you did. For him.

"James, love, you are aware no one owns you correct? Just because we are married it doesn't mean I own you."

He nodded.

"I-I know. 'm not used to it."

You stared at him for a moment longer. Contemplating on trying to drag more out of him but decided against it.

"Ok. As long as you know."

You finished up his leg and tossed the loofah to the side.

"Please pass me the shampoo. It'll get the grease out of your hair."

He complied. You lathered up the shampoo in your hands and then motioned for him to bring his head down.

"Come here, I can't reach you all the way up there." You laughed softly.

He bent down a little and groaned when you worked the shampoo into his hair. You rinsed it out with just as much love and did it one more time. Just in case. He passed you the conditioner and you repeated the process.

You booped him on the nose and he looked well and truly shocked. You laughed.

"And that is how you take a shower." You told him.

"Can I take one every day?"

You gave a soft laugh.

"Yes love, you can take one everyday."

He looked like he wanted to add something. He also looked like he didn't know if he should say it or not. You wanted him to be comfortable with anything around you so you pushed.

"Something on your mind?"

He looked at you nervously.

"Will you shower with me all the time?"

You giggled. "Sure."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you got to the doctor's office the word futuristic was an understatement. It was definitely not what you were expecting nor was it what you were used to. You knew a little poster on the wall and an examination table. But this, this was something else entirely.

There was an exam table in the middle of the room. On the far left corner there was a table with the doctor's computer and a swivel chair. You liked the swivel chairs. You asked for one for your room. You got one. You liked Tony. In the far right corner there was all the medical instruments and the cabinets. You didn't even want to think about what might be in those cabinets. Needles. Yuck. By the exam table right next to you there was the chair for the patient's plus one. In your case, James. Whose knee was bouncing up and down uncontrollably as you waited for the doctor to arrive.

"Will you stop that?" You all but snapped at him.

James flinched slightly at your raised tone but stopped immediately.

"Sorry." He muttered.

You sighed. You felt bad. You shouldn't have snapped like that. You were about to apologize for it but before you could get the words out the doctor entered the room.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Cho." She nodded towards you and Bucky as she walked to her desk in the corner.

"You're a woman?" You blurted. You slapped your hand quickly over your mouth. That was an inside thought. She laughed.

"You haven't been here long have you?"

You shook your head. You really hadn't.

"We wanted to see if it's a boy or a girl." James interrupted what could have been an interesting history lesson for you. You shot him a small glare and he just shrugged.

"Yes yes. First a couple questions. Clearly, you are pregnant so we don't need to draw blood to check. Did you have a pregnancy plan with your doctor before you came here?"

You looked at her confused.

"Pregnancy plan?"

"Yes. We make a plan for when you deliver the baby and any postpartum care you may need."

"Um, postpartum?" You asked timidly looking at James first before looking back to the doctor. He was just as lost as you were though.

"Yes dear. It means an amount of time after the baby is born."

"Oh, ok. Um, well, I think I'd like to deliver in my room, that's how we did it in the 40's and I never got to. I don't really know after that." James reached over to you and took your hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"I'll help ya doll. You're not alone."

Doctor Cho tried really hard not to roll her eyes at the cheesiness of it all while she typed your wishes into the notes section. She nodded.

"Alright. That's fine. If you change your mind just let me know so I can update the staff who will be helping."

You and James nodded.

"Alright. Let's get a look at the baby." Doctor Cho smiled.

She got up from her place at the desk and want to grab some jelly to rub onto your stomach so the wand for the ultrasound machine could roll over you. That's what she told you.

"It may be a little cold."

You hissed at the cold jelly being smeared across you.

"Alright let's have a look." Doctor Cho said as she rubbed the wand across your stomach. She paused, smirked, and then rubbed a little more.

"What is it?" You asked.

"Is there something wrong?" James demanded.

"Oh no. Everything is absolutely fine." She paused. "You're having twins!"

"TWINS?!" You and James exclaimed.

Right before he passed out. Doctor Cho laughed.

"It's always the fathers. Don't worry, he'll be fine."

You hopped off the examination table and kneeled down next to James' face and smacked his cheeks lightly a couple times.

"Hey honey, come on. Wake up. Come back."

He slowly opened his eyes.

"Twins?"

You laughed as he lifted himself up onto his elbows.

"Yeah honey. Twins."

@goth1c-pinki3-pi3

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@baw1066

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[planet-marz1]

Our Little Sheep

Summary: You and Joel celebrate christmas with your many children Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Word Count: ~4.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, implied age gap(not specified), reader is able to get pregnant, jackson!joel, peepaw!joel(really peepaw), mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of childbirth (nothing graphic), brief mentions of breastfeeding (again, nothing graphic) Lots of fluff & cuteness, Joel being a cute girl dad™, this seems like it should be a crackfic, but I promise It's so wholesome

A/N: Ok so this fic idea was born out of my cold medicine induced haze, so bear with me here guys. It's just a silly little fic, not meant to be taken seriously at all, and It's the most fun I've had writing in a bit, so I hope you enjoy reading! Just a little clarity here, the kids' ages range from 0 to 9. I know it gets all confusing here, so I am welcome to provide any further clarity if anyone needs it! A huge thank you to @catchallfangirl for helping with the naming of all of these gremlins & with the constant encouragement ❤️ Thank you to @fhatbhabie for beta reading!

lovely dividers by @pamasaur

| main masterlist | ao3 link | follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

You open your eyes slightly, squinting them. Joel sleeps peacefully next to you, his breaths even and steady. Burrowing yourself further under the blankets, you scoot closer to him, your head on his chest and intertwining your legs with his. You run your fingers through the curls of his now, fully gray hair.

Slight whines start to fill the room, and you lift your head up and glance over your shoulder to peek into the bassinet next to your side of the bed. Joel had been up with the baby all night after you two had finished wrapping up the gifts for the other kids. So, you groggily sit up in bed, reaching over to pick up the tiny little infant.

“Shhh, It’s alright, little one.” You whisper quietly, trying to calm him. After a few attempts to shush him, it’s still not working. He’s probably hungry, you figure. Lifting your shirt, you help him latch onto your breast, and he finally calms. You sigh quietly with relief. It’s all a part of the process, you try to remind yourself. Little baby Joelseph had only been born a few weeks ago. No, his name isn’t actually Joelseph. Simply a nickname given to him by his many older sisters when you had been pregnant with him. It started as a cute joke, but sure enough he came into the world, and no one was able to call him by his proper name. Named after his father, but considering the chaos of your family, the nickname is simply just another thing that you don’t bother to fight to keep the peace in the house.

The early hours of the morning are usually the small period of time when the house is completely silent. Every other waking minute is filled with the sounds of the kids, either giggling, or fighting with each other over something. Though, silence isn’t always a good thing. You’ll never forget the time the kids got into the kitchen cupboards and practically wreaked havoc in the kitchen while you were outside tending to the sheep.

Sure enough, you hear the trampling of footsteps coming down the hallway. No matter how chaotic it may be, this is your favorite part of the day. Getting to start each day greeted by all of your beautiful children, reminding you of why you are so lucky. You softly graze your fingers over the baby’s hair.

“I think your sisters are here, little guy,” You chuckle softly. The doorknob jiggles a bit. Before all of your daughters begin to spill into your bedroom, all eleven of them. Yes, eleven. You and Joel had, admittedly, gotten out of control in that department.

You and Joel had met when he had returned to Jackson in the spring with Ellie in tow. It had been an immediate connection, quite literally. Hooking up one night in the bathroom of the Tipsy Bison, which is what led to your firstborn, Emilie. The pregnancy had come as a shock, but you and Joel were excited nonetheless.

A chorus of variations of “Mom,” or “Mommy,” begin to fill the room, and you try to shush the girls, reminding them of their little brother. “Ok, girls, I know that you’re excited to get downstairs to all of your gifts, but you’ve got to settle down a bit, alright?” You whisper gently. Finally, they all nod in understanding. The calm is short-lived, though. Jane and Jules, the cutest, but menacing pair of instigators, hop on to your bed, shaking Joel’s shoulder, trying to wake their father.

They were your fourth pregnancy, which was by far the most difficult one you had ever experienced. Constant discomfort, and sleepless nights from the relentless kicking and movement from them. It wasn’t the first time you had been pregnant with twins, but It had gone nothing like you had expected it to.

Joel, though typically a light sleeper, is particularly hard to wake after a night with no sleep, hence why you’d opted on letting him sleep in. The two of them, each on one side of him, lean in close to his face, leaving little room for personal space. “Daddy.” Jules says quietly, Jane keeping a close watch.

Joel peeks one eye open, a bit startled at first at the heavy breathing from the two girls so close to his face, but the confused expression on his face is quickly replaced by a tired grin. As soon as all the girls spot that their father has woken up, they all pile onto your bed, excitedly squealing and giggling. Luckily, little baby Joelseph had already been lulled into a deep sleep after he finished nursing. Even if he hadn’t, you're pretty sure the few short weeks he’s been in the world, he’s already used to the constant noise and chaos from his older sisters.

Joel sits up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and tries to wrap his arm as many of them as humanly possible.

“When can we open our presents, daddy?” Tiny little Aurora questions impatiently. This is the first year she’s been able to fully understand the concept of Christmas, and all the gift giving. So, understandably, she is ecstatic for all the festivities of the day. She crawls into his lap, after attempting to clamber over all of her sisters in the way. Joel scratches at the scruff of his beard, and lifts her into his lap.

“How about we all eat breakfast first, sweetheart, then you all can tear into your gifts.” He says lowly, his voice still laced with sleep. “Sound like a plan?” He asks. The girls all nod in agreement.

You slowly stand up from the bed, still cradling baby Joelseph in your arms. Walking towards the door, you gesture for the girls to do the same. They all climb off of the bed, and without fail, the house is once again filled with chaos. All eleven of them racing out of your bedroom, and down the staircase to the kitchen.

Joel meets you by the doorway, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Well hello, sleepyhead.” You tease him. “Sleep well?”

“Just like usual, darling.” He kisses you again, this time placing kisses all over your face, and down your neck, before you place your hand gently on his chest stopping him from going any further.

“Not so fast, old man.” you chuckle softly. “We don’t need another one of these.” you say, gesturing down to the baby bundled up in your arms.

“One more wouldn’t hurt, huh?” He teases, and you just shake your head. 

“You say that because you aren’t the one who has to push them out.”

“We should probably get downstairs before they get into stuff that they shouldn’t be” You murmur, and Joel quietly nods in agreement.

The warmth of the morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as you make your way into the dining room. Joel follows you, his hand brushing against the small of your back.

You and Joel enter the dining room, and expectedly the room is already filled with screaming and chaos. Alive with the energy of your daughters, and the two mischievous kittens, Ginny and Joel, weaving in and out of the chaos. 

Emilie, your oldest, is trying to settle an argument between Lacy and Lily, your first set of twins. Nothing new in your household, nearly every morning, no matter how many times you have to tell them that every seat is the same, the kids insist on fighting on who sits where, who sits next to whom. It’s exhausting, but you can’t help but smile at the chaos unfolding before you-it’s simply the routine of your everyday life.

Emilie, with her stern expression, finally manages to resolve the seating dispute between Lacy and Lily. You glance at Joel, and he chuckles, a knowing look passing between you. The girls quickly settle into their chairs, the anticipation of Christmas morning evident in their sparkling eyes. As you take your seat at the head of the table, Joel sits beside you, and the cacophony gradually subsides. Little Aurora, perched on Joel’s lap, swings her legs excitedly, eager to dive into the festivities.

“Alright, everyone, let’s dig in!” you announce with a smile, and the room erupts in cheers. The aroma of the freshly cooked breakfast wafts through the air as the kids eagerly serve themselves.

Emilie diligently helps the younger ones with their breakfast. She occasionally steals glances at the pile of gifts under the Christmas tree, anticipation gleaming in her eyes.

Lacy and Lily are engaged in animated conversation, their excitement palpable. Daisy can’t stop giggling at something Theo whispered in her ear. The second set of twins, Jane and Jules, sit side by side, already plotting mischief as they eye the presents.

Willow, with her big curious eyes, is inspecting her plate with utmost concentration, trying to decide which part of her breakfast to tackle first.

In the midst of the laughter and chatter, you catch Joel’s eye. There’s a shared understanding between you, a silent acknowledgement of the beautiful chaos that is your family. His gaze is filled with gratitude, and you can’t help but feel the same.

As the kids enjoy their breakfast, you steal a moment with Joel. “Can you believe how fast they're growing?” you murmur, your eyes dancing with a mixture of love and exhaustion.

Joel leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Feels like just yesterday we were sneaking around the Tipsy Bison.”

You laugh, the memory of that fateful night vivid in your mind. “Look where it led us.”

Kylie babbles incoherently as she attempts to mimic her older siblings. Aurora still sits on Joel’s lap, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the festive scene, and Joel aids her with her breakfast.

Maggie sits contentedly in her high chair, fingers sticky with syrup, as she munches on a piece of a pancake you’ve carefully cut up into small pieces for her.

The kids, fueled by excitement and sugar, chatter animatedly about their plans for the day. You and Joel exchange glances, both silently reveling in the joy of parenthood. The journey hasn’t been easy, but moments like these make it all worthwhile.

As breakfast winds down, you glance at Joel, both of you silently agreeing it’s time for the much-anticipated event of the morning.

The living room is now adorned with brightly wrapped gifts, a colorful display of the love and thoughtfulness you and Joel put into each one. The kids finish their breakfast, their eyes darting eagerly between the tree and the presents.

“Alright, kiddos, let the unwrapping begin!” Joel declares, and the room explodes with excitement. Each of their little faces lighting up with joy. 

“Okay, kiddos, let’s see what Santa brought us this year!” Joel exclaims, and the room erupts in cheers. The kids, now fueled by excitement from their furry friends and a hearty breakfast, rush to the tree, each claiming a spot around the mountain of gifts.

Emily takes charge, distributing gifts to each of her siblings with precision. Paper tears and laughter fill the air as each child discovers the treasures hidden beneath the wrapping.

Lacy and Lily eagerly tear into their presents, sharing excited glances when they unveil matching toys. Daisy clutches a doll close to her heart, and Jane and Jules giggle in delight at the surprise in their packages.

Theo, wide-eyed, unwraps a superhero action figure, and Willow discovers a fluffy stuffed animal that instantly becomes her new best friend. Kylie is overjoyed with a set of building blocks, her imagination already running wild.

Aurora claps her hands in glee as she unwraps a musical toy, and Maggie, though more interested in the wrapping paper than the actual gifts, coos happily.

Daisy twirls with a new dress, her face glowing with delight. “I’m going to wear this everyday!”

Aurora, surrounded by a pile of toys, claps her hands and points excitedly. “Look, Daddy, Mommy, so many toys!” Maggie, with a new plush toy in her tiny hands, giggles with joy. The room is filled with laughter and chatter as the kids excitedly showcase their new treasures.

Jane and Jules squeal in delight as they discover Joel curled up in the tangle of discarded wrapping paper, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Willow, with her big curious eyes, watches the kittens in fascination, occasionally reaching out to stroke their fur. Kylie bursts into giggles as Ginny playfully bats at a shiny ribbon. Aurora claps her hands in delight at the sight of the playful duo. Maggie points with chubby fingers, her face lighting up with a smile as Joel gracefully leaps onto the back of the couch.

Joel catches your eye, and you share a moment of warmth as you witness the joy on your children’s faces.

“Looks like our little fur balls are the stars of the show today.” He chuckles.

Watching as the kittens continue their playful antics. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of excitement, and the crinkling of wrapping paper.

As the chaos subsides, you lean into Joel, watching the kids with a contented smile. “Merry Christmas, Joel.” He whispers back the same sentiment, wrapping his arm around you, anchoring you in the midst of the joyful storm that is your family.

The room buzzes with the joyous laughter of your children, the kittens weaving throughout the living room. As the kids continue to show off their presents, Ginny and Joel curiously inspect the colorful array of toys and trinkets scattered across the room.

Emilie, your eldest, sits by your side, flipping through her new sketchbook. “Mom, look at this! It’s perfect for my drawings. Thank you, Santa!”

Lacy and Lily, wearing their matching necklaces, approach Joel with enthusiasm. “Dad, Dad! Can Joel play with us too?” they ask, extending an invitation for the adventurous kitten to join in on their imaginative play.

Daisy twirls around in her new dress, and with a dramatic flair, she curtsies. “I’m a princess, just like in the stories!”

Jane and Jules, holding their new board game, insist on a family game night. Jules, gives you a confused look, glancing from the box, and then back up at you. “What is Boggle anyway?” 

“It’s just a word game, sweetheart, definitely an easy game to beat your dad at.” you laugh softly, shooting Joel a teasing grin.

Willow proudly shows you the fluffy stuffed animal she received. “Look Mom, It’s Fluffy! Daddy, feel how soft!” She grabs his hand to place it on the stuffed animal, and Joel enthusiastically plays along with her.

Kylie, engrossed in building her tower with the new blocks, beams with accomplishment. “It’s bigger than me, Mommy!” You smile at her gently, and give her compliments on her tower building skills.

Maggie, in her own little world, squeezes her plush toy and gurgles happily. The kittens, sensing the playful atmosphere, join in on the fun, batting at the discarded ribbons and chasing each other around the room.

Joel, still basking in the warmth of the family scene, leans over to you. “Seems like Santa knew exactly what they wanted.”

You nod, a content smile playing on your lips, ‘And the best part is seeing their faces light up with joy.”

The room is filled with laughter, the sound of wrapping paper being crinkled, and the occasional meow from Ginny and Joel. The chaos is harmonious, a melody of love and togetherness that defines your family.

The kids, their excitement undeterred, start brainstorming plans for the day–games to play, stories to tell, and perhaps a snowball fight if the weather permits. As the festivities continue, you can’t help but feel grateful for the love and warmth that fills your home–a treasure more precious than any gift under the tree.

As the kids reveled in the excitement of unwrapping their Christmas gifts, their attention turned to the chalkboard on the mantle–a poignant memorial to their older sister, Sarah. The room hushed momentarily as the children exchanged thoughtful glances, understanding the significance of the chalkboard.

The kids had put together some artwork and drawings the night before. They gather around the chalkboard, placing their artwork in front of it, creating a beautiful display of love and remembrance. The room, now adorned with their heartfelt tributes, felt infused with a sense of warmth and connection to Sarah’s memory.

Joel, watching from a distance, can't help but be moved by the sincerity and creativity of his children. The simple act of setting their drawings in front of the chalkboard transformed the mantle into a gallery of love—a tangible expression of the enduring impact Sarah's memory had on their hearts.

As the morning continued, the drawings stood as cherished tokens—a beautiful reminder that, even in the midst of joyous celebrations, the love for their sister would always hold a special place in the family's heart.

You nudge Joel gently, catching his attention. “Any Idea when Ellie, Dina, and JJ are planning to arrive?”

Joel looks thoughtful for a moment, his eyes scanning the room to make sure all the kids are engaged in their newfound treasures. “They’re aiming to get here just in time for lunch. Should be any moment now.”

Excitement lights up on your face at the news. “The kids are going to be over the moon to see them again, and It wouldn’t be Christmas without them.”

Joel nods in agreement, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Ellie’s always been good at timing. They’ll be here soon.”

As if on cue, a gentle knock at the door catches your attention. You glance at Joel, both of you sharing a knowing smile. The anticipation in the room heightens as the kids, sensing something special, look toward the door with wide eyes. Moments later, the front door bursts open, and the lively chatter of Ellie and Dina fills the air. The children squeal in delight, dropping their toys and rushing toward the doorway. Ellie enters first, holding JJ’s hand, Dina follows closely behind with a warm grin on her face.

The kids shout at them in unison, enveloping the new arrivals in a sea of hugs and excitement. You and Joel stand back, watching the heartwarming reunion unfold.

Ellie, catching your eye, gives you a knowing nod. “Merry Christmas!” she says as she greets you and Joel. You welcome them with open arms, a surge of joy filling your heart. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

As the laughter and joyful chaos continue to fill the room, you can’t help but marvel at the beautiful tapestry of your family, woven together by love, shared moments, and the bonds that withstand the test of time.

Amidst the joyful commotion, you navigate through the sea of excited children, still cradling little Joelseph in your arms. Joel joins you, and together you watch as Ellie, Dina, and JJ immerse themselves in the holiday cheer.

Ellie, after receiving an enthusiastic welcome from the kids, approaches you with a playful grin.

“How’s the newest little troublemaker doing?” she asks, casting an affectionate glance at Joelseph.

You chuckle, gently rocking the sleeping baby in your arms. “He’s been an angel all morning, surprisingly.” you yawn, tiredly.

Dina joins the conversation, “He’s gotten so big since we last saw him. Mind if we steal him for a bit?”

You nod with a smile, carefully passing Joelseph over to Dina. The little one stirs for a moment, but settles back into a peaceful slumber in Dina’s arms. “He’s all yours.’

The room continues to buzz with giggles and Ellie, Dina, and JJ become a seamless part of the festivities. The kids eagerly show them their new toys, and soon, the kittens, Ginny and Joel join the playful parade.

As the day unfolds, the house becomes a vibrant canvas, painted with the hues of love and togetherness. Joel, now with Aurora on his shoulders, navigates through the lively crowd. You find a quiet moment with Ellie, who is holding Joelseph with a tender smile.

“He’s adorable,” Ellie remarks, her eyes filled with a mix of nostalgia and affection. “Feels like just yesterday you were dealing with my teenage antics.”

You laugh, remembering those not-so-distant days. “Time flies, doesn’t it? Now look at us, and you, with a little family of your own.”

Ellie glances around the room, the sparkle of the holiday lights reflecting in her eyes. “Couldn’t ask for a better way to spend Christmas. And look at Joel, still being the heart and soul of this chaos.”

You follow her gaze to Joel, who is now surrounded by a group of kids, listening intently to one of Jane and Jules’ stories. The love in his eyes is evident as he shares in their laughter and mischief.

Ellie looks back at you, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You both did an amazing job. I’m proud to be part of this.”

And in that moment, as the laughter and warmth of your family envelop you, you couldn’t agree more. This Christmas, with all its magic, has woven another chapter into the rich tapestry of your lives–a chapter filled with love, laughter, and the cherished moments that make your family truly extraordinary.

As the festivities continue, Ellie, still cradling Joelseph, couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease Joel. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she approaches Joel, who’s now attempting to disentangle himself from a knot of kids.

“Hey, old man,” Ellie quips, giving Joel a playful nudge. “You holding up okay with all these little rascals running around?”

Joel chuckles, a playful glint in his eyes. “Someone’s gotta keep ‘em in check. You’ll find out soon enough, Ellie. Parenthood’s no joke.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to Joelseph. “You’re the expert now, huh? It took you guys long enough to figure out the secret recipe for a baby boy.”

Joel grumbles and feigns offense. “Well, it’s not like we had a manual.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Says the guy who needed a football team's worth of daughters before finally getting a son.”

You join in on the banter, giving Joel an amused smile. “Took a bit of trial and error, but look at our charming little Joelseph now.”

Ellie leans in, bouncing the baby gently in her arms. “Not bad for an old guy, huh, kiddo?” she cooed, earning a content gurgle from the baby.

As the day of joyful chaos begin to wind down, the once lively house now settles into a more serene atmosphere. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast a gentle glow over the living room as the laughter of the children gradually transforms into quiet giggles and yawns.

You and Joel, tired but content, herd the kids upstairs for their bedtime routine. The kittens, Ginny and Joel, follow along, their playful antics slowing down as they, too, sensing the impending calm.

“Alright kiddos, time for bed.” Joel announces, his tone gentle but firm as he ushers the kids into their respective rooms.

The procession of bedtime rituals unfold–one by one, teeth are brushed, pajamas are put on, and stories are read. The younger ones nestle into their beds, eyelids growing heavy with the sweet fatigue of a day filled with excitement.

As you check on each child, offering goodnight kisses and tucking them in, Joel moves gracefully through the house, turning off the twinkling lights and closing curtains. The house seems to exhale, the echoes of joyous laughter replaced by the hushed whispers of bedtime.

In the quiet moments between putting the kids to bed, you found Joel in the hallway, sharing a look of satisfaction passing between you. The day had been a whirlwind of love and joy, and now the peaceful hush settles over the house like a comforting blanket.

“Another Christmas for the books,” Joel remarks, his voice low.

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “And many more to come, I hope.”

The two of you continue the nightly routine, gently closing doors and ensuring the house was ready for the calm of night. The soft glow of the light spilling from your bedroom illuminates your path as you and Joel make your way into the room, where little Joelseph lay sleeping in his bassinet.

Joel pauses by the doorway, his eyes fondly watching the baby. “He’s been the best gift, hasn’t he?”

You nod, a warmth settling in your heart. “The best, indeed.”

The day had been a symphony of chaos and joy, a beautiful crescendo that had now found its resolution in the quietude of the evening. As you and Joel retire to your room, you can’t help but reflect on the blessings of family, love, and the precious moments that make Christmas truly magical.

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[badkitty3000]

Five's Audition Tape

So, here's another one-shot I wrote a little while ago that I originally never intended on posting. But as I try and work on some new things, I figured I'd put this out there. It's another sweet, funny, sexy glimpse into the life of Five and his wife Vivian from my original series Halo. If you enjoy this one, you might like my full one-shot series of my two favorite horny lovebirds.

Summary: Vivian catches Five singing in the shower and secretly records the evidence. When she's caught, she tries to hide from him, which ends in some major rearranging of their kitchen pantry. What she doesn't know, though, is that their little closet bang is not the private moment they intended.

Five x Female OC, 4,179 words, one-shot

Warnings: Smut, Closet sex

Five thought it was a safe space. He thought he was alone. Alone and free to sing loudly and unabashedly in the shower without fear of judgment. He was very, very wrong. Because if there was one thing his wife lived for, it was catching him doing something stupid and using it for her own, personal gain.

No one would ever have thought in a million years that Number Five Hargreeves not only knows the lyrics to Shaggy’s 2000 hit Angel, but also secretly loves it and sings it at the top of his lungs when no one else is around. No one would have thought he’d do the accent when he sang it, either. But yet, there he was, scrubbing his hair behind the safety of the shower door, and singing lines like:

 Looking back Shorty always a mention

Said me not giving her much attention

She was there through my incarceration

I wanna show the nation my appreciation

Unfortunately for Five, he was not alone in the house like he thought he was. Vivian just happened to get home from work early and had come upstairs to change when she heard the speaker in the bathroom blasting out the Reggae-heavy song, accompanied by her husband’s very bad Jamaican accent.

She froze in place outside of the bathroom door, one hand on the doorknob and the other over her mouth to suppress her glee. She didn’t even know what to do first, she was so excited. Should she barge in and surprise him, scaring him and embarrassing him at the same time? Should she keep it to herself as ammo for the next time he annoys her? Or should she sneak in, record an audio clip on her phone, and send it out to his entire family? The choice was obvious.

With her phone in hand, Viv slowly and as quietly as possible turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The music was playing loud enough that he shouldn’t have been able to hear her enter, and he couldn’t see through the frosted glass of the shower door. Still, she crept in on tiptoes, her phone already recording his secret bathroom concert. As she bit her lip to stifle the laughter that threatened to peal out of her at any second, Five continued to sing about his darling angel being closer to him than his peeps.

After she had recorded several seconds of it, she turned around to sneak back out the door. As she turned, though, her sleeve caught on a bottle of lotion next to the sink, tipping it over with a loud thump. Viv froze in place and Five immediately stopped singing. There was a brief pause of silence, and then the shower door flew open with a bang, revealing Five standing there with a deep frown of confusion on his face. Their eyes locked for a second before he looked down to the phone in her hand and then back up at her face. Viv broke into a grin. Then she made a run for it.

Normally, this would be a futile effort, since no matter how fast or far she tried to get away from Five, he always popped up in a blue flash, cutting her off from her escape with a cocky smile. But she had caught him off guard this time, and when she sprinted out of the bathroom, she slammed the door behind her so that he didn’t get a good look where she went running off to. By the time Five got his wits about him and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist, she was long gone. Hidden somewhere in the house.

As Five began blinking randomly around the house, disappearing and reappearing in different rooms and closets, he smiled to himself. He was well trained in the art of tracking and hunting another human, but this was a very different game of cat and mouse they were playing. And he was most definitely going to be preying on this particular little mouse when he eventually caught up with her. Five stopped when he blinked into the living room. He pushed a hand through his wet hair and ran his tongue over his teeth with a smile.

“You know I’m going to find you, Vivie,” he called out. “You are a terrible hider and you can’t walk more than two feet without stepping on something or knocking something over.” He stopped and listened, but the house remained silent. “Brat,” he muttered to himself with a laugh.

He continued his blink-and-seek game, teleporting everywhere he could think of that she may have gone. He even blinked up to the attic, which he knew she couldn’t have easily gotten to, and almost bashed his head on the low rafters. She actually had him stumped for a minute, until he appeared in the kitchen and heard a noise. It was quiet, but he’d definitely noticed it. It was a crunching sound, like the sound of gravel beneath a shoe. Five smirked as he honed in on the location of the noise. In one perfectly calculated blink, he rematerialized inside the food pantry closet.

“Gotcha,” he declared just as Viv shrieked and took a step back, her back hitting the shelf behind her and knocking over another packet of crackers that had given her away in the first place. Five was right, she was a bad hider.

Five held her by her upper arms, a devious grin spreading across his face in the dim light, and squeezed his grip tighter. Viv was breathing hard from running and from being startled, but she laughed breathily.

“Hi, honey,” she said sweetly. “How was your shower?”

“It was very nice until I was rudely interrupted. Now tell me, my love, what were you doing with your phone?” Five glanced over at the shelf where Viv had set the phone, the screen still lit up with the family group chat ready to go. His green eyes flitted back to her face as she tried not to laugh again. “Oh, you think this is funny?”

“Do I think walking in on my elderly-but-not-really, ex-assassin, hard-ass, time-traveling husband singing a 2000’s Reggae/rap song in a fake Jamaican accent is funny and I need his entire family to hear it?” She beamed up at him with fluttering eyelashes. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Five sighed loudly, tilting his head back before meeting her eyes again with a pitying look. “You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you, angel?”

Viv’s nervous swallow was audible in the small space they occupied. “You’re going to blink us both out of this closet and you’ll forget all about it?”

Five closed in on her, his half-naked body still damp with beads of water from the shower, his hair falling in pieces onto his forehead. He leaned in until his mouth was next to her ear, rubbing his cheek against hers.

“Wrong,” he whispered darkly.

He pressed up against her, pushing her harder against the shelves, the towel around his waist doing nothing to disguise his rapidly hardening erection. He moved his hands down to her wrists and held them tightly as he breathed hard against her neck. Viv could feel his damp hair tickling her face; his chest flush with hers.

“I do love it when you misbehave like this. It really gets me going.”

“Five,” Viv weakly protested, letting out a small laugh. “We’re in the kitchen pantry and our son is going to be home very soon. I’m not going to…”

She was cut off by Five’s thigh that he shoved between her legs, as well as the sharp nip he gave her neck as his hands tightened on her wrists.

“You’ll do what I tell you to do,” he hissed. “And right now I’m telling you to turn around and get that skirt up.”

It was dark in the closet, but enough light was coming in from around the door to illuminate Viv’s face so that Five could see the flicker of a smile cross her lips and that look in her eye that meant she liked what she heard. After years of marriage, he could read her like a book. And even if he couldn’t, the rapid change to her breathing would be a big hint.

She looked him in the eyes and whispered. “Let go of my wrists, then.”

Five let his grip on her go and Viv slowly turned around, just like he told her to; her ass brushing against him in the process because of the close quarters. She reached down and hiked up the hem of her pencil skirt, pulling it all the way up to her waist before grabbing onto the wire shelves containing their household dry goods with two hands. She pushed back against him as he let out a dark chuckle.

“Sometimes I think you do things just so you can be punished.”

With a firm tug on her hips, Five pulled her back, the large tent of his towel pressing harder against her backside. Viv’s hands tightened onto the shelves as she felt the towel drop to the floor and Five’s fully erect cock sprang to attention before rubbing between her ass cheeks and the thin material of her panties. His mouth was on her neck, hard and rough, as he started to mark the space next to her shoulder with his teeth. He let out a groaning sigh as he moved to another spot to do the same thing.

“What do you think, bad girl…” he mused quietly as his lips traveled to a new, unmarred area of her neck. “Are you wet enough for me yet?”

Five’s hand found its way around to her front, his long fingers creeping into the side of her panties and sliding up through her silken folds. He paused to bite down on the other side of her neck as a loud gasp caught in her throat. He continued his exploration, spreading her slick over her entire swollen heat, ending at her clit and expertly massaging it. Viv rocked her hips back and forth, wanting more pressure from his hand in front and his cock from behind.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Five smirked as she whimpered sweetly for him.

He considered his options of pushing her underwear to the side or removing them completely. He liked the idea of sliding inside of her while she was still fully clothed. But he also wanted as much access as he could get, so he removed his hand and shoved them down her hips so that they dropped to the ground around her feet. Viv automatically stepped out of them, her heels tapping on the floor as she readjusted and spread her legs apart.

Five wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in tightly while using his other hand to position himself against her entrance, pushing inside of her with one thrust. The low growl he let out mixed with her moans as he bent her over as far as possible in the small space.

“That’s…oh yeah…that’s good,” Viv whined, hanging her head down and closing her eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you, darling, but I need to fuck you hard,” Five warned, his voice tight with restraint.

Viv nodded eagerly. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

He didn’t say anything else, just started pounding into her. Viv clutched onto the shelves tighter, Five’s hands wrapping around hers and squeezing them hard to steady himself as he nailed his wife from behind. The shelves began to shake and squeak loudly with the activity, the items on top of them shifting and falling over.

“Fi-ive…f-uu-ck…”

“Too much?” Five rasped between gritted teeth, continuing to drive his dick deeper and harder inside.

“Nooo…” Viv moaned. “No…keep going…more…”

“That’s my girl.”

Five’s grip tightened even more as he concentrated on giving her the fuck of her life. The added intensity shook the shelving unit harder; boxes of pasta and cereal, containers of rice, cookies, and crackers falling over and spilling onto the ground. Viv narrowly missed getting hit by a can of soup that rolled off the top shelf and loose Froot Loops were being crushed into brightly colored powder beneath Five’s bare feet.

“I. Love. You. So. Goddamn. Much.” Five was grunting with each thrust, his hips slapping against her ass while she made little whimpering noises, biting at her lips. “Even when you’re an evil little brat.”

Five…Five…I need…” she was gasping, trying to suck in air and talk at the same time.

“What, baby…tell me.”

“I need my hand,” Viv pleaded, trying to free her hand from under his.

Five let go of his right hand so she could release her own before grabbing back on again for leverage. Viv’s hand dropped down between her legs to finger herself while she was being railed as hard as possible.

“Vivie…” Five grated out, his voice hoarse. “I can’t keep…fuck, you feel so good!”

With Five’s amazing cock slamming viciously inside her and aided by her own fingers, Viv’s orgasm rippled through her body, her muscles contracting as she tried to hold back the loud screams that threatened to erupt out of her.

“Fuck!” Five yelled, clearly not concerned with his volume level, despite the fact that they may not have been alone in the house, or in a private area.

His own climax seemed to last forever as he pressed hard against her, pushing her against the shelves until her body was being crushed. The adrenaline from the intense finish masked the pain Viv normally would have felt if her chest was being smashed into the blunt edge of a pantry shelf. With their bodies starting to relax and their breathing still loud and gasping, Viv brought her arm up and rested her head on her forearm as she closed her eyes and sighed happily.

Five held her to him for a little longer, before slipping out of her and kissing the back of her neck. After a few more heaving breaths, Five moved aside so that Viv could straighten up and pull her skirt down.

“Now hand over the evidence,” Five panted, holding his hand out, palm up.

Viv had almost forgotten what landed them in the closet in the first place, and she glanced around. She saw the glowing light of her phone that had fallen onto the floor, along with all the food items. With a short laugh, she dove for it before Five could get at it.

“No chance in hell,” she smirked.

“Vivie…I swear to god if you send that to my—”

At that moment, from one of the upper shelves, an opened bag of flour tipped on its side and came crashing down, creating a giant plume of white dust that settled over everything and everyone in the tiny closet. They both cried out in horror.

As they stood there, covered head to toe in flour, with pulverized food debris and questionable other things on the floor, they blinked at one another in stunned silence. Viv was the first to start, beginning with a quiet snort that quickly devolved into her doubling over with laughter, then coughing from inhaling flour dust. As she tried to both laugh and cough at the same time, Five started in with a low chuckle while shaking his head like a dog to free the thick layer of white powder from his dark hair.

Just then, they both heard a noise from outside the pantry door. It was the sound of footsteps getting closer, followed by the voice of their son singing along quietly to some song that was playing on the noise-canceling headphones he seemed to wear at all hours of the day and night. As it turned out, this was a good thing, because neither one of them were entirely sure how loud they had been or how long he had been home. And even if they had kept their own noises to a minimum, the sound of crashing dry goods all around them should have been loud enough.

Viv’s eyes widened, knowing their teenage son was bound to be headed to the closet that housed all of the snacks. She looked up at Five, who read her mind and quickly grabbed her arm before blinking them out of there and into their bathroom upstairs.

As James headed in the direction of the sugary treats he was craving, he noticed the unmistakable flash of blue light coming from behind the closed door of the pantry. There were only two people in the house that could have made that particular color of light and he was one of them. He frowned before continuing closer. He took the headphones off and left them hanging around his neck.

“Dad?” he called, confused as to why in the hell his father would be inside a closed kitchen pantry. “What are you…”

James opened the door and stared inside. He wasn’t sure how a tornado could have ripped through one tiny closet while sparing the rest of the home, but that’s what it looked like. A dense cloud of flour still hung in the air and he waved his hand in front of his face and coughed. It was empty of any people, but it was certainly filled with a giant mess.

Boxes, cans, and plastic containers that once stored various food items were knocked over and either lying on their sides or upside down. Dried pasta and beans were mixed with a million grains of rice scattered into every crack and crevice of the floor. When he looked down and saw the remains of his favorite cereal which was now nothing but a bright pink and blue powder, he groaned sadly.

“No! Not my Froot Loops!”

Then he realized what else he was looking at. There, on the floor in a heap, and covered in a thick layer of white flour, was a wet bathroom towel and a pair of women’s underwear. James’ face fell and he couldn’t decide whether to scream or vomit. He clenched his teeth together and balled up his fists, unintentionally mimicking his dad.

“Seriously? In the food?” he grumbled out loud to himself. Then he threw his head back and yelled in the general direction of the upper floor, where he now knew his parents had escaped to. “You guys owe me a box of Froot Loops! And stop being so gross! People eat in here!”

There was no answer, but he sighed angrily and stuck his headphones back on, blinking himself one of the last bags of chips that were still intact before stalking back to his bedroom.

“And they wonder why I don’t want my friends to come over. Maybe because my parents are the two most disgusting people on the planet,” he muttered to himself while shoving a handful of Doritos into his mouth. “This family is so fucking embarrassing.”

Five had managed to blink himself and Vivian into their bathroom upstairs, which was now also covered in flour. Still stifling their laughs, they rinsed off in the shower, trying their best not to make a paste out of the mixture of water and flour in their hair. After cleaning up and toweling off, Viv was squeezing out the water from her hair when Five remembered something.

“Hey, where’s your phone? You still need to delete that shit off there.”

Viv eyed her phone on the bathroom counter and quickly grabbed it, clutching it to her chest. “No way, I’m not deleting that. That’s pure gold!”

“Vivian…” Five started in a threatening manner.

She smiled. “I promise I won’t do anything with it unless you piss me off or I need blackmail for something. Besides, it’s adorable.”

Five huffed. “Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. You wouldn’t want to make me mad now, would you? There’s no telling what I might do…” She playfully held up her phone, pretending she was going to send something to the family group chat that had already been opened before their closet fucking had started.

Five frowned. “Why is the text thread blowing up?”

Viv turned the screen toward her and saw that new messages were flying in, one after another, all from Five’s siblings.

Diego: Holy shit, I almost crashed the fucking car

Luther: What the hell? 🤯

Lila: Oh god, I just threw up in my mouth

Luther: This was so much worse than walking in on you

Diego: Seriously, what is wrong with you two?

Viktor: I need to wash my ears out. With bleach

Klaus: Hey, what are we talking about?

Luther: I cannot express to you how much I never want to hear that again

Lila: Vivian, I have lost all respect for you

Klaus: Seriously, what’s going on? I accidentally left my phone on the bus for 5 hours and I just got it back. Eww, it’s sticky

Viktor: Please lose my number

Sloane: Really…that was pretty bad you guys

Diego: You are no longer invited to family game night

Lila: I hate you both

Klaus: Oh hey, there’s an audio message on here!

Luther: There is a child living in your home. Did you think about that? No, you only think of yourselves

Sloane: I’m sure he wasn’t home

Lila: I bet he was. Poor thing. I’m calling social services

Viktor: She’s just kidding, guys, no one is calling social services. But still…gross

Diego: The worst part is that I had just picked up some Thai food. Can’t eat now. Thanks a lot

Klaus: 🤣🤣🤣💀💀💀

Klaus: Didn’t think I could die but I just did

Klaus: I’m keeping this for future use. Next time send a video, I need a visual for maximal effect 🍆✊💦

Luther: Klaus, you’re disgusting!

Diego: Don’t yell at him, he doesn’t know any better. The other two know that it’s wrong. So, so wrong

Lila: Did there have to be dialogue? Can’t you shut up for the two seconds it takes you to blow your load Five? I can’t unhear that

Viktor: This is now the top most traumatizing thing I’ve had happen in my life. Which says a lot

Luther: You two have some serious issues, you know that?

Klaus: Has anyone seen my red sparkly belt? I need it for tonight

Diego: Klaus, how can you ask that now? And no, no one has seen your stupid belt

Klaus: Oh, are we still talking about the Fivey Fuck Fest? I thought we moved on

Lila: I want out of this family

Sloane: If I have to be here, so do you

Luther: I think we need to establish some rules for this group chat

Diego: Who made you ruler of the group chat? But yeah, we do

Luther: Rule #1: NO SEX IN ANY MEDIA FORMAT ON THE FAMILY TEXT THREAD

Luther: Everyone in agreement?

Diego: 🙋‍♂️

Lila: 🙋‍♀️

Viktor: 🙋‍♂️

Sloane: 🙋‍♀️

Klaus: 👎

Luther: Great, majority rules

Five stared at the phone, then back at Vivian, then back at the phone, his eyebrows crunched together.

“Did you…did we…”

Viv cringed. “I think so, yeah.”

Five pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes to gather himself. “Let me get this straight. You just sent an audio message of us doing it, loudly, to my entire family?”

“It would appear so, yes.”

“Vivian!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air.

Viv pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “It was an accident!”

“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t think you were so fucking funny and recorded me singing in the shower!”

The giggles she had been holding back started to bubble out. “I’m sorry. But it’s a little funny, don’t you think?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh.” Viv snorted back a laugh and then fixed her face in an attempt to look serious again. “At least it was a good performance by you. I mean, it could have been worse.”

Five narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? When is it not a good performance?”

“Oh my god, Five! You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be.” She looked down at her phone and started typing.

“What are you doing now?” Five asked.

“Trying to apologize…hang on…wait, why can’t I…oh those assholes!” she said, looking up at Five in shock.

“What?”

“They removed us from the group chat. What the fuck?”

Five stood there for a minute and then he started laughing. “Now, that actually is funny.”

Viv grinned. “Now I kind of want to do it again. Just to fuck with them.”

Five leaned in to kiss her. “I have no problems doing that again. But let’s keep the next session a little more private, shall we? And maybe with a little less involvement of unsecured baking ingredients.”

[winwintea]

how dreamies would react if they walked in on you changing

PAIRING ▸ roomate!dreamies x reader  AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i got bored and wanted to take a break from the wayv fic (still working on it though) but this floated into my head + another prompt i'll be doing with wayv so enjoy lol.

Mark Lee

Mark pushes open the door, as it’s not locked, so he assumes no one is there. Only to his surprise he notices you inside, in the process of changing. “Oh! OH!” It takes him a couple of seconds to react properly, and then his face quickly turns to shock. “Sorry!” Embarrassed, he quickly backs out, shutting the door with him, but not before sticking his hand through the small crack, giving you a quick thumbs up, “You look great!”

Huang Renjun

Renjun grabs the doorknob and turns it, pushing the door open. You have little time to react before Renjun meets your eyes, to which he gives you an apologetic look, “Forgive me.” He tilts his head up, his eyes not meeting yours instead glancing up at the ceiling, granting you privacy. In a swift motion, he backs off and quietly closes the door, but you could tell how pink his ears were.

Lee Jeno

Jeno, unaware that you are in the room, slowly pushes open the door only to be met face to face with you. He notices your shock and quickly jolts upwards. “Sorry.” He turns his head to face the door, not wanting to make you more uncomfortable as he could tell you were embarrassed by his gaze. Already blushing, but still avoiding eye contact, he quickly shuts the door behind him.

Lee Donghyuck

Haechan is quick to do things, and you bet he slams the door open, completely unsuspecting that you could potentially be inside. He locks eyes with you, and you both are startled by each other's presence. “OH.” His mouth hangs open, before quickly apologizing and holding up a hand, “Sorry.” There’s a quick grin on his face, as he sneakily checks you out, and then he’s out the door as swiftly as he came in.

Na Jaemin

Jaemin is looking for something he thinks he misplaced, and he makes no motion to knock, barging into your room. As far as he remembered, you left hours ago. Unfortunately he didn’t hear you come back. “Sorry” he states as he locks eyes with you without breaking contact. Not noticing how embarrassed you are, a smirk sweeps over his face as he eyes you up and down not once but TWICE, before closing the door.

Zhong Chenle

Chenle was looking for you, and since the door wasn’t locked or shut all the way, he figured no knocking would suffice. But there you were, and as you met his gaze, he looked at you with the goofiest grin. No words were spoken, but the embarrassment you felt was real. Chenle looked like he was about to burst out laughing as he moved his eyes towards the ceiling, spinning around slowly and walked out, “There’s a lock on the door! Ever heard of using one?” 

Park Jisung

Jisung turned the knob of the door handle, assuming no one was inside. Poor Jisung though, because he was definitely not mentally prepared to handle what was behind the door. He seems more shocked than you, his mouth hung agape, both hands up in an apologetic motion. It takes him a couple of seconds to react, it isn’t until you motion for him to get out of the room so you can finish changing, that he quickly turns around and slams the door behind him shut. 

[ant0nsfirstluv]

Riize romantic headcanons

A/N: firsttt postttt just some simple headcanons I have for Riize as boyfriends 🫶🏾 hope you enjoy

Warnings: none frm what I know

More under the cut

Shotaro:

So in love with you whaaattt 🙁

Teaches you some easy japanese phrases so you guys can have your own small convos and inside jokes with each other without others budding in LMAO

Hug machine, even if he isn’t just hugging you he has an arm around you in some type of way whether it’s around your shoulders, you two link arms, an arm around your hip, anything !!

For a date he’ll probably take you to the fair, he’d pay for all the food you two eat and has you get on so many rides the main one being the farris wheel, you will take pics in it !

He likes when you wear his clothes especially his big graphic tee shirts, he’d probs buy couple shirts for you two (the cute ones not the corny ones 😭)

Randomly teaches you dances and once you have it right he’ll kiss your forehead and tell you how good you did

Always checks in on you, sometimes he’ll shoot you a quick texts asking about how your day was and if you have anything you need to rant about

Uses cute emoticons rather than emojis when making your contact name

Eunseok:

He really loves you but gets worried that he doesn’t show it well :/ even tho he is literally the biggest sweetheart

Buys you snacks throughout the day and randomly hands them to you but will play it off by saying something like “ I got these because you’re greedy 🫵”

Places your hand in his jacket pocket, keeps a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, holds and kisses your hand while sitting together, silently plays with your hair in any way he can

Even though he’s nonchalant he does worry about you like if you’re taking longer than usual to get home or he can’t figure out where you are he’ll try to be calm but soon sends a row of messages

Has random moments of cuteness aggression, you two will be sitting together and he’ll look at you and just squish you by pinching/smushing your cheeks, randomly pulling you extremely close going “AAAAAH SO CUTE”

Basketball date 😗 will go tough on you until you make THAT ONE FACE, and then he automatically goes easy on you..hell he’ll even lift you to the hoop

Sungchan:

Your favorite giant

When in public he’s practically all over you so nobody even ASSUMESS you’re single, will literally hold you from behind kissing the top of your head + cheek

So clumsy. You’ll get random text from him like “How much is a doorknob.” And you’ll ask him why and then he sends a pic of the door without its knob

Lovesss kissing your face he CANTTT STOPPPP

Play wrestling is KEY ! you’ll be teasing him and he’ll pick you up and toss you into his bed or couch and start play fighting

Goes “😧😦” if you start fighting back 😭😭.

Goes out of his way to feed you, like randomly he’ll be like “you hungry ?” and even if you say no he’ll buy you a little sum sum to munch on for now or later

Yes, he’ll have you go to the gym with him to spend time together 😭

He’ll teach you the proper form for some of the machines and do goofy muscle flex poses in the gym mirror to make you laugh

Wonbin

In the beginning he’ll try to come off as some playboy and would be quietly flirty

Does things to come off as smooth..slides in compliments, somehow finds a way to wrap his arm around you, randomly asks you on dates

Even though he seems all cool and smooth in reality he’s blushing as soon as you look/walk away

Most definitely does things in order to impress you..plays your favorite songs on his guitar, tries his best to win if he’s playing with the members and knows you’re watching

takes you out clothes shopping and has you try on wtv he thinks you’d look good in, he’d think you were so cute and would try sooo hard not to geek out watching you dress up 😓

Gets you a matching pair of earrings with him :(( it’ll either have a matching gemstone or a matching engraved symbol

Its been confirmed that he can be clingy so he’ll do whatever to be around you, if you’re laying down on your phone he’ll come lay/sit by you and it turns into cuddling, he’ll follow you around without noticing etc etc basically like a cat lowkey

You two will be quietly cuddling soo close and then he just randomly says “I wish I could live in your skin.” And you’d go “What.” Just for him not to repeat it EVERRR

Seunghan:

this man is literally…delusional over you 😭

considering he’s a libra (imma whore for astrology) before you two would even be together he’d have a “SHE WILLL BE MINEE” mentality once his crush begins

for a first date once you two are together I feel like it’d be sweet and simple, you over at his playing games and watching movies eating some takeout with r&b playing in the back getting to know each other even moree 🫶

has you sit on his lap while he plays fifa just so you don’t feel lonely waiting for him to hop off the game,, he’ll even teach you how to play it + other games he has..PLUS he’ll shower you with kisses when either of you win

you know how seunghan will call sohee cute for doing literally anything…yea he does the same exact thing with you 😭😭

you wake up from a nap ? “cuteee”, you’re in the middle of eating “cuteee” even if you’re scolding or bickering with him about something he’d stop and go “cuteee”

possessive, just like Sungchan he’d refuse to let anyone even assumeee you’re single he’d give as much pda as you’re comfortable with just to let these mfs KNOWW

if a girl tries to flirt with him he’d shut it down so fast he’d mention you every 5 seconds just to irritate her and get her away

Sohee:

A bestfriend and boyfriend in ONEEEE

the members in the group call you two the twins because y’all are attached at the HIPPP

ofc he sings for you like cmon now . he’d sing you lullabies to help you sleep if you’re having a hard time, he’d sing to you while cleaning up together, sometimes he just feels like singing for you just because

likes watching you do your hair + makeup. he’d even ask you what each product does to your face or what you’re putting in your hair, he’ll even asks if you’ll let him do it for you one day ☹️

lovessss sharing with you. It can be anything..clothes, food, body wash, his computer whtvvv as long as you mention enjoying it he’ll share it with you

uses your shampoo or lightly sprays your perfume so he’ll have your scent around and wants you to do vice versa with his shampoo + cologne

he’ll randomly make you instant foods and will just pop up with the food with the biggest smile on his face even if you weren’t super hungry you couldn’t refuse a few bites

this is so specific . but imagine sharing icecream or a milkshake with him..like it would probably be so cute omfg 😭

Anton:

takes a random photos of himself + the members just for your reaction

makes you a playlist almost biweekly..has the title “for my other half” and the picture for it is either a solo candid pic of you he took one day or a photo of you two together

this is such a random headcanon but imagine one day you’re super burnt out tired or sick he’d help you brush your teeth and do your skincare in the morning

takes .5 pics of you and sulks/pouts if you asks him to delete them (he won’t)

literally uses pinterest to come up with date ideas

he’d come up with a day long date itinerary for what you and him would do like everything is planned out and he even has a few back up plans if things go left

he will carelessly blow your phone up sending hilarious ass tiktoks or simply updates you about his day and asks you about yours

let him take you swimming !!! he’d be a little shy with you seeing him shirtless one on one but he’d overcome it, he’d teach you how to dive and will even race you 😭

he’d feel awkward about public affection but would force himself to have courage and will suddenly kiss you + wrap his arms around you

likes nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck whenever you two are cuddling

if y’all aren’t holding hands you two are mosttt definitelyyy holding pinkies

[vampiriito]

Pillow talk and pleading the fifth amendment (r.c flashback)

(JJ Maybank x pogue! reader x Rafe Cameron) ..in which you found yourself torn between two worlds when your best friend, JJ Maybank, who you've been in love with since forever starts dating Kiara. In a jealousy haze you start hooking up with Rafe Cameron, the infamous kook prince. Do you manage to keep everything casual and under control? No, is it fun? Also kind of no, given you hate yourself each time you managed to orgasm. And especially since Rafe's favorite activity is to pick on you and your friends outside the bedroom..

"anger"

Noun (usually military term, in this context best paired with the term jealousy)

chiefly US

An officially recognized state of hostility or war between two or more belligerents; often expressed as the phrase "in anger", now commonly used to describe any state of conflict between opposing parties. Anger is also intimacy in disguise. It's a fire built on resentment, miscommunication, unspoken longing, and emotional exhaustion. It’s what keeps the characters tethered to each other, especially when desire starts to blur with hatred and affection. It gives them permission to feel, to touch, to lose control—because admitting they care would be far more terrifying than any fight.

The storm had passed, leaving the island in disarray. The morning air nipped at your skin as you shut the glass door to the Cameron house as quietly as possible. Something felt different—like the air itself had weight, pressing against your chest, making your head throb despite the fact that the hangover had faded. Your hand lingered on the doorknob, hesitating, as if your body was debating whether to turn back. Why? You didn’t know.

Your sneakers, still damp from the night before, barely made a sound against the wet gravel. No satisfying crunch to focus on, no distraction from the gnawing unease creeping into your gut. You felt like some guy sneaking out of a girl’s house after a bad decision—not that this was anything new. But something about this morning unsettled you more than usual.

The sky was clear now, the sun peeking out timidly from behind the house you were leaving behind. But with every silent step, the guilt twisted tighter in your stomach. Your teeth worried at your barely healed lip.

Should you have waited for Rafe to wake up? You never had before. That wasn’t how this worked. You didn’t do morning-after conversations. You never lingered. So why did you feel the need to now?

You hated the shift.

When you’d woken up earlier, wrapped in his t-shirt, his face was the first thing you saw—so close, too close. Peaceful. The smugness and sharp edges of him dulled by sleep. That image clung to you even now as you walked down the sidewalk of Figure Eight. The bruises on his cheek. The small cut on his lip. His messy hair. The way his lips had parted as he breathed in and out, steady, unguarded. And then—his arm draped over your waist like it belonged there, like you were his.

But you weren’t.

You prayed he hadn’t grown attached. That would ruin everything. This thing between you only worked because it was weightless, without meaning. But who were you kidding? You were the one who had shown up at his door in the middle of a storm. You were the one who let him pull you into his bed after having something as intimate as shower sex. This was as much on you as it was on him.

Or maybe none of it mattered. Maybe this was just routine for him, just another night in an endless cycle. Maybe you weren’t any different from the others. Different clothes, different background—but still the same, still replaceable.

Right? Right. You didn't need to dwell on it. Your sore legs carried you through the quiet posh neighborhood trying to distract you from your thoughts by looking at the perfectly cut hedges and perfect paint jobs of the massive and probably empty houses. You didn't know if you were jealous of the kooks, sometimes. They had a better upbringing and better lives, chances to go to pristine colleges only for the "college experience" and not for a future like normal people needed to. But they were horrible people mostly and they didn't shy away from looking down on people. Because that's where you stood. Lower on the food chain, lower in the class and lower in life, especially since you kept reaching new levels of rock bottom these past days.

As the immaculate houses slowly morphed into the fishing shacks and run down old houses that were peppered over The Cut like small cysts, you slipped your phone out of your hoodie's pocket, flicking the screen on as your eyes fell on the date. Shit. Fuck. You wanted to groan out loud. What good it was that you had a day off today if it was because of that? You completely forgot about taking the day off a few weeks ago and you definitely weren't ready. You turned the screen off with a grumble, your hands reaching up to adjust your glasses a little more harsher than usual.

The gnawing feeling in your stomach intensified as you saw the chateau coming into focus, your feet carrying you towards the front door like a kid coming home after the first time you got drunk. You weren't ready for the 'where were you?'s and 'why did you leave during a storm?' You could only hope they were distracted enough with today to not pay attention to your reckless departure last night.

The old house stared at you as your hand hovered above the door knob as if it knew you'd done something wrong and vile and you scoffed as you pushed the front door open with a low huff. You couldn't hear much given your best friends were seemingly all gathered on the back porch, but you could definitely tell they were awake by the excited chatter and occasional laughs. God, you were such a mess. The guilt was definitely gonna end up eating you alive even before you reached the screen door.

You navigated through the living room, glancing at the kitchen in something akin to longing, wishing you could just lock yourself in there. But you advanced towards the screen door leading to the back porch, fidgeting as you pushed it meekly and stopped in the doorway. Your eyes swept over your best friends, Kie and Sarah sitting on the ground, carving away at watermelons excitedly while they talked. John B, Pope and of course a shirtless JJ were sharing a joint on the ratty couch on your left, discussing costume plans.

JJ was the first to notice your presence, his eyes flickering to you before widening in surprise. He sat up a bit straighter on the couch, his eyes running over your flushed face, the messy hair, the glasses, and the hoodie. Your hair was surprisingly tied back in a low pony, standing tense in the door way and he forgot about your small argument from last night as he addressed you.

"Hey, look who's finally awake!" he called out, his voice cutting through the chatter, and all eyes turned to you. He took a drag of the joint, holding it between his fingers, his gaze never leaving you.

Your expression twitched as you locked eyes with JJ before you schooled it in a tight smile, reaching up to fidget with your glasses. You decided to ignore JJ's teasing comment, looking down at Sarah and Kie sitting criss-cross in front of you carving scary faces in watermelons with bright smiles on their faces. Which faltered for a second in surprise when they saw you. "Hi!" you waved your hands in around in feigned excitement, most of it dimmed by the awkwardness you were feeling.

JJ watched you, a subtle hint of worry in his eyes as he noticed your tight smile. He knew you well enough to know something was up, but he didn’t comment on it, not now at least, letting the others jump in with their welcomes and exclamations.

When you only waved feebly, he took another drag from the joint before standing up, making his way over to you with a lopsided smirk. He knew how to get you out of your funk.

He leaned against the door frame next to you, his hip bumping into yours as he glanced down at the watermelon carnage on the porch. He blew out a cloud of smoke, his smile widening as he observed your uneasy expression. He knew all too well that something was off, but he'd get to the bottom of it later. For now, he was content to tease you.

"What’s got you all flustered, huh? Got a hot date last night?" he teased, his eyes flickering to yours as he took another drag from the joint.

You turned your head to the side, raising one brow at his question. As if he was aware you even left last night. He wasn't. He was too busy being balls deep in Kiara, who was sitting in front of you looking up at you questioningly, just like your other best friends. But you decided to ignore the obvious elephant dropped in the room by JJ's question and instead take a more nonchalant approach. The elephant could stay in the zoo for all you cared. "What is this? Are you all going as a group of losers for tonight?" you asked grinning as you looked between all of them.

JJ chuckled at your response, the tension in the air momentarily lifted by your sarcastic comment. He knew you were dodging the question, but he let it slide for now, not wanting to push your buttons too much.

He took another drag from the joint, blowing out a stream of smoke before answering, a smirk on his face.

"A group of losers, huh? Well, at least we're a group. What are you going as, the grumpy hermit that just woke up after hibernating for a thousand years?"

You groaned internally as JJ kept bantering with you despite your attempts at avoiding having a conversation with him directly, the others watching you quietly. "No. I was thinking more of a vampire, or even cat woman. But given I'm not going..." You trailed off, letting your statement hang in the air almost too awkwardly for your liking. Your eyes drifted down to Kiara and Sarah still sat on the ground in front of you, waiting for their reactions.

JJ noticed your avoidance of making eye contact with Kiara and Sarah, the subtle shift in your behavior not going unnoticed. His playful attitude faded for a moment as he took in the tension in the room, the elephant in the room not going away as easily as he thought it would with his teasing. He took another drag off the joint, letting the smoke waft in front of his eyes before he exhaled, eyes fixed on your face, watching closely for any signs that something was off.

He knew you well enough to know something was bothering you, but he wasn't quite sure what.

The others, too, picked up on the tension in the air, the conversation now drifting into awkward silence. Kiara and Sarah looked up at you, silently questioning your decision to ditch tonight, and John B and Pope watched your interaction with a mix of confusion and concern. JJ, meanwhile, just stood by your side, smoking quietly and watching you.

The silence was heavy, and finally, John B spoke up, trying to lighten the mood.

"What do you mean you're not going? You have to come! It won't be the same without you. Plus you took the day off just for this!"

Your eyes snapped to John B as he spoke, silently grateful one of them finally spoke up before that excitement died down as his words registered. You knew you blew them off too many time in the past week, and judging by the weight of the silence, you could only imagine what they were thinking. "Well.. the thing is.." you started, rubbing your shoulder and then the side of your temple nervously. "I kinda didn't prepare a costume.." you stated awkwardly before adding in one breath "i was gonna do it after i took the day off from work like a few weeks ago, but i got wrapped up in shit and didn't have the chance."

John B's expression softened, a hint of understanding in his eyes. The others exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the half-truth in your words. They knew you well enough to know that "I got wrapped up in shit" was code for "I was probably out all night hooking up with people to get my mind off of my issues."

JJ, however, knew you even better. His jaw clenched at the thought, a pang of jealousy stirring in his chest. He took another drag off the joint to cover up his silent annoyance.

Pope, ever the voice of reason, broke the silence, offering a solution to your costume problem.

"Well, you can always throw something together, right? We've got a good few hours before we need to head out. I'm sure we can find something here that you can use for a costume. You can't just skip the party."

Kie and Sarah nodded in agreement, their faces still mirroring their curiosity and confusion. "We can buy those fangs from the dollar store, do your makeup real vampy and i'm sure you still have some of your clothes from your emo phase in 7th grade, right?" spoke Sarah, excitement seeping through her confusion.

Truth be told, you kinda had a costume planned for a long time. That's why you allowed yourself to forget about the day momentarily. The problem wasn't the lack of costume but rather that the plans changed since JJ and Kie got together. You knew John B and Sarah were doing couple costumes and you could only guess JJ and Kiara were doing the same. Which would leave Pope with an intricate, niche and smart costume and you... with a basic vampire costume. Didn't feel right.

"I dunno guys.." you muttered, cracking your knuckles and looking down at the half carved watermelon sitting in Sarah's lap "I'm not sure i'm feeling up for this year.."

Your friends exchanged glances, worry and confusion written on their faces at your hesitation. They knew you were usually one for a party, so the fact that you were considering backing out was a surefire sign that something was bothering you.

John B's voice broke the tense silence, his voice softer now.

"What do you mean you're not feeling up for it? It's Midsummer frights. It'll be fun. You can't miss it." He paused, noticing the way you avoided JJ's gaze.

Midsummer Frights.

Trying to explain Midsummer Frights to someone who wasn’t local was pointless. It wasn’t a real holiday, just an excuse to throw on a skimpy costume—usually a bikini for the girls, board shorts for the guys—and get completely shitfaced. A bootleg version of Halloween, one week before the Kooks' Midsummers at the country club. What started as a joke among the Pogues had grown into an Outer Banks tradition, one you had loved for years.

A second Halloween? Hell, yeah. Your excitement only grew each summer. Carving watermelons instead of pumpkins. Glow-in-the-dark beach parties. Bonfires that burned until dawn. Trick-or-treating on yachts while drunk tourons handed out shots instead of candy. It was chaos, it was ridiculous, and it was perfect.

Last year, with your red hair, you threw on a bikini and called yourself the Little Mermaid. That was the night you lost your virginity—not that it had taken much effort. A bikini, a little eyeliner, and a warm summer night had been enough.

This year? You’d debated between an angel and a vampire, but the decision was easy. A vampire had far more potential for getting laid than an angel. You shifted in your spot, still standing in the doorway of the porch with JJ still leaning on the doorway to your left and the guilt mixing with the feeling of being put on the spot almost made you sick. So you turned to JJ casually, grabbing the half smoked joint dangling from his fingers and taking a long drag "I just... I'm not feeling up for it.." you muttered after exhaling and handing JJ back the joint without looking at him.

JJ's heart sank in his chest as you casually reached for the joint, the movement almost too familiar for comfort. His eyes darted to your face, taking in the slight shake in your hand as you exhaled, his heart clenching at the sight.

The others seemed to pick up on your change in attitude, the carefree smile gone and replaced with concern. Even John B, who was usually oblivious to the intricacies of your emotions, seemed to sense something was off.

"You sure...?" John B asked softly, his voice hesitant.

"Uh, hell no?" Sarah cut in before you even had the chance to reply, her voice sharp with disbelief. She set down the half-carved watermelon beside her, wiping her sticky hands against her shorts before springing to her feet.

Without hesitation, she grabbed your shoulders, completely ignoring the fact that she was probably smearing watermelon juice all over your hoodie. "The party is at mine. My house. For the first time ever. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for my dad and Rose to be gone at the same time? And this is when you decide to back out?"

You flinched slightly at her sudden movement, glancing down at her sticky fingers gripping your hoodie before pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose. She had a point. A damn good one.

Backing out now, when she was finally hosting Midsummer Frights? That wasn’t an option. Not as her best friend. Even if the thought of stepping into that party made your stomach twist. Rafe would be there. You’d have to avoid him like the plague. Even if it was technically his house and you weren't sure why you'd be avoiding him. Maybe not to raise suspicion among your friends..

And then there was JJ and Kiara—probably attached at the hip, making out in whatever annoyingly cute matching costumes they picked this year.

You could deal with that.

Probably.

You sighed, your teeth sinking in your bottom lip as you watched Sarah intently, "You'd get other chances, right?" you asked meekly, knowing that half of your fight was already gone since you knew how shitty it was if you didn't go.

The others chuckled at Sarah's passionate speech, Pope nodding in agreement with her every word. He was usually the mellow one of the group, but even he had a hard time hiding his disappointment with your sudden change of heart.

John B spoke up next, his voice full of persuasion.

"Sarah's right. You can't bail just because you're not feeling it. It's Midsummer Frights. It's sacred tradition."

JJ stayed silent, his gaze flickering between you and the half-carved watermelon. You could almost feel the tension radiating off of him.

Kie spoke up then, her voice soft and understanding as she tried to mediate the situation.

"Just give the night a chance, yeah? Who knows, maybe you'll have fun once you're there."

Your friends all watched you, silently pleading for you to give in and agree. They all knew about your love for Midsummer Frights, the wild night that had become synonymous with some of their finest memories.

The silence in the room deepened as all eyes turned to JJ, waiting for his two cents. His silence was deafening, the atmosphere as thick as the tension between you two. His face was unreadable, the only hint of his thoughts being the slight muscle in his jaw clenching as he observed you.

JJ took another long drag, the burning joint burning down to the filter as he held the smoke in his lungs, his gaze flickering between your friends and you. He could feel the pressure to speak up, to sway your decision, but he didn to know what to say.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke up, his voice low and slightly strained as the smoke left his lungs. His words held a hint of annoyance and possessiveness, his grip on the joint tightening.

"Yeah. You should go. It's Midsummer Frights. You can't back out on Midsummer Frights, man."

He turned and looked you right in the eye, his gaze intense and unwavering. The others looked surprised, and a little bit relieved that he finally spoke up. JJ's support held weight, and they knew it.

Sarah shook your shoulders once again, pulling your attention from JJ after he spoke up, almost whining as she shifted on her spot "I swear you'll have fun.. We even grant you the permission to hook up with a kook dude if the opportunity presents itself.." she added the last part with a smirk, leaning in but still speaking loud enough that the others heard, which caused them to grimace in confusion.

The others, including JJ, made sounds of disapproval at Sarah's teasing. They knew your penchant for hooking up with random Kooks, and they weren't always impressed by your choice of partners.

Pope's lips curled slightly at the corners, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, how generous of you. Hooking up with a drunk kook is every girl's dream, Sarah." He said with an eye roll.

You grinned at Sarah's suggestion, your expression relaxing from the awkward and tense one to an amused and knowing one. "I'm starting to warm up to the idea..." you mumbled, knowing that it would tick your friends off, chuckling at Sarah's smirk that matched yours.

Pope let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head in mock disbelief. He was used to your tendency to go after the wrong type of guys, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at your willingness to potentially add another Kook to your list.

John B, ever the voice of reason, raised an eyebrow at your words. His tone playful yet slightly cautionary.

"Yeah, just as long as it's not Rafe, right?"

Sarah, ever the one to encourage your recklessness, laughed at this and nodded, her smirk still present. She knew damn well that Rafe was a sore spot for the others, and she enjoyed pushing their buttons.

Pope, however, looked a little bit concerned at the thought of you hooking up with Rafe, given his history. "Goddamn it, don't even joke about that, please. You can do wayyy better than Rafe Cameron."

You could. You could probably find some random guy, let him kiss away the ache in your chest, drown your thoughts in vodka, weed, and mediocre sex. But given your track record? You had a feeling this night was going to end exactly where you didn’t want it to—in his bed.

The LED light in the tiny Chateau bathroom flickered slightly, humming in the background as you stood in front of the sink, adjusting your black mini skirt for what felt like the hundredth time. You’d reapplied deodorant three times now, shifting in place, trying to quiet the nervous energy rolling through your body.

You loved Midsummer Frights. Always had. A flimsy excuse to wear a bikini, slap on some scary makeup, and call it a costume because, in the Outer Banks, no one cared about the actual fear factor of the holiday. Halloween? That was for getting creative, for going all out. This? This was just an excuse to party.

You leaned over the sink, fingers carefully pressing at the inner corner of your fake eyelash, huffing in frustration when it refused to stay glued. The irritation curled in your chest, mingling with the second thoughts creeping in. Maybe you should’ve just said no. Stayed home. Spared yourself from the inevitable chaos.

But it was too late now.

With a sigh, you leaned back, reapplying your red lipstick, dragging your tongue lightly over the plastic fangs you’d stuck onto your canines. Twenty-dollar fangs, but they looked real enough. Still, something was missing. You swiped a finger across your bottom lip, smearing the lipstick just enough to mimic blood, tilting your head as you studied your reflection. Yeah, that worked. Running a hand through your straightened hair, you let out a breath.

You were gonna be fine. You’d keep the drinking to a minimum. You’d avoid Rafe. And Kie. And JJ.

…Or at least, you’d try.

A hurried knock startled you, Sarah's voice ringing from the other side of the door. "You done hogging the bathroom and stalling the party, Count Lame-ula?" You sighed, adjusting your bikini and unlocking the door almost lamely, hovering in the doorway "Isn't this too… whore-ish? A bikini top and a mini skirt with a cape?" You asked Sarah, grimacing slightly, second guessing your costume already. Your eyes zeroed on her costume, a skimpy looking red riding hood costume, which was matching to John B's wolf costume.

Sarah scoffed, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Please, this is Midsummer Frights. If you’re not at least a little whore-ish, are you even celebrating properly?"

She gave you a once-over, tilting her head. "Besides, you look hot. And coming from me, that's a genuine compliment, because unlike half the guys at this party, I'm not trying to get in your pants."

Your grimace didn’t waver, but your hands dropped from where they had been anxiously adjusting your bikini top. "I dunno, maybe I should've just gone with the angel costume…"

Sarah snorted. "Yeah, and what? Ruin your chance to get laid by some guy with a vampire kink? No way. Also—" she gestured down at her own short red dress, adjusting the ribbon at the neckline, "—if this is acceptable, then so is yours. And at least you’re not stuck matching with your boyfriend like I am."

Your eyes flicked to John B’s wolf costume hanging over the couch in the other room. "Yeah, wasn’t gonna say anything, but you guys look ridiculous."

Sarah groaned. "Tell me about it. He was so excited, though, and I didn’t have the heart to say no."

You sighed, glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time before turning to face her fully. "Fine. Let’s go before I start overthinking again."

Sarah grinned, grabbing your wrist and tugging you out of the bathroom. "Now you’re getting it. Time to embrace the whore-ification of summer Halloween."

The sight of you sauntering out of the bathroom sent a pang of tension through JJ's body, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of your exposed skin. The guys watched you leave the bathroom, their eyes roaming over your body, drinking in every inch of exposed flesh. Even John B and Pope's eyes were wide, their faces mirroring a strange mix of appreciation and disbelief. JJ couldn't tear his gaze away, his grip on the beer bottle in his hand tightening reflexively as he took in the revealing costume.

Kie let out a soft whistle, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "Damn.." she shouted appreciatively, standing up from her spot on the couch next to her boyfriend. She walked over to you squealing in excitement, "You are so getting laid tonight!"

Your eyes flickered over Kie’s shark costume—her effortless, no-fuss approach to dressing up was so on brand it almost made you laugh. A silly shark-themed crop top, ripped jean shorts, and barely a hint of makeup. Classic. The only thing that really stood out was the shark hat perched on her head—one of those goofy, oversized ones with felt teeth that looked like it came straight from the kids’ section at Spirit Halloween. But it wasn’t the hat that had your stomach twisting—it was the necklace. A small, black shark-tooth pendant hanging snugly against her collarbone. JJ’s necklace. The one he got as a cheap souvenir years ago and swore he’d never take off. And yet, here it was, resting comfortably against Kie’s skin like it had always belonged there.

You suddenly felt overdressed and underdressed all at once. The vampire getup—tiny bikini top, mini skirt, knee-high boots—made you stand out in all the ways you weren’t sure you wanted to. You shifted slightly, forcing a small laugh to mask the tightness in your chest. Kie grinned, her hands landing lightly on your shoulders as she shook you playfully.

"The mission is to have a good time tonight, not just to get laid," you teased, her eyes bright with a tight excitement.

You forced a grin in return, willing yourself to feel the same. After all, wasn’t that why you were going? To forget? To drown yourself in the chaos of the night, in cheap liquor and neon lights, until nothing else mattered?

Kie laughed, her hands still holding onto your shoulders as she looked you up and down, her eyes flickering with mischievousness. She seemed unaffected by the sight of you, the perfect picture of carefree fun, completely immersed in the Halloween spirit.

"Oh yeah, you say that now," she chuckled, her tone light and humorous, "but you know how these parties go. All it takes is a few drinks and a cute dude, and you're off to the races."*

You rolled your eyes in playful gesture at her words, your eyes darting over her shoulder at JJ still lounging on the couch casually, nursing an almost finished beer bottle, feet propped on the coffee table. "Says the girl with a matching costume with her boyfriend.." you teased, looking back at Kiara.

Kie followed your gaze, her eyes landing on the same sight. JJ, sprawled across the couch in a casual, yet undeniably attractive manner, the beer bottle clutched in his hand and his signature smirk evident on his face. She let out a small sigh, shaking her head in mock annoyance.

"Hey, hey," she protested, her tone slightly defensive, "It was his idea, not mine. I had an amazing zombie costume planned, but no…he wanted to match. Typical."

JJ, having caught his name being thrown around, perked up with that signature, cocky smirk tugging at his lips. His gaze flickered over you—briefly, but not so briefly that you didn’t catch it. He let his eyes drag over your outfit again before shrugging, feigning nonchalance.

"Hey, it’s tradition," he drawled lazily, lifting his beer with an almost theatrical slowness before taking a long, deliberate sip. "Couples always match for Midsummer Frights." He let the words hang, gaze locked on you like he was testing for a reaction. And then, with a wicked glint in his eye, he twisted the knife just a little deeper. "Besides, you gotta admit—we look damn good together for our first year as a couple on Midsummer frights."

His voice dipped, teasing but smug, as he pushed himself off the chair and moved behind Kie, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. His chin found its place on her shoulder, his eyes—still on you.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes to cover the sharp pang in your chest, flicking your gaze toward Pope and John B instead. The latter had already abandoned his spot to make a beeline for Sarah, wasting no time pulling her into a kiss. She groaned half-heartedly about him messing up her lip combo, but still melted into it within seconds.

And just like that, the pang worsened. That heavy, unmistakable weight of being single in a room of people who weren’t. And Pope, who wasn't as affected by the prospect as you were.

You shifted, fidgeting absentmindedly with the string of your cape as JJ nuzzled into Kie’s neck like some kind of medieval torture method designed specifically for you. Maybe if you looked away, ignored it, the tightening in your throat would go away. Maybe if you drank enough, the night would blur before it could cut too deep.

Kie chuckled, tilting her head ever so slightly into JJ's touch, allowing her eyes to flutter shut for a brief moment as she savored the intimate gesture. Your eyes flickered back towards them, lingering longer than you probably should have, your fingers now clenching at the edge of your cape. The sight of them so comfortable and affectionate sent a pang of loneliness through your chest, one that you tried to push down with a forced smile.

Pope's eyes flicked between you and JJ, a small frown playing on his lips at the sight of your discomfort. Your forced smile, the way your hands fidgeted nervously with the edge of your cape. He knew you well enough to know that seeing your two closest friends so at ease with their relationships was probably stirring up some complicated feelings, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for you. He shot JJ a sidelong glance, noting the way he seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much, his face still nuzzled against Kiara's neck. Pope knew that JJ could be a lot, sometimes too much for his own good, and seeing him rub his relationship in your face like that probably wasn’t helping.

John B and Sarah had disappeared down the hall toward the bedroom, presumably lost in their own world of make-out sessions and whatever else happened behind closed doors.

Pope shuffled towards you, a hint of concern etched across his face. He offered you a small, knowing smile, his eyes flickering over your tense form and the cape clenched in your hands. He cleared his throat, speaking softly, his voice low so only you could hear him.

"You okay?"

Your eyes followed JJ and Kiara as they sank into the couch, lost in their conversation. Pope's concerned whisper pulled you from your thoughts. You weren't exactly okay, but you weren't about to admit that outright. Pope was a real sweetheart, and from what you could tell, he was probably feeling the same way. You saw it in his eyes whenever he looked at Kiara with JJ—an expression guarded and bitter, one you recognized because you'd been wearing it yourself for the past week.

Your gaze shifted to Pope’s simple yet smart costume: a nerdy pirate. The bandana tied neatly over his forehead, a touch of eyeliner on his waterline, the leather vest, and basic jean shorts paired with combat boots and trinkets hanging from his belt. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, even if it was a tight smile. You slung your arm lazily over his shoulder, leaning into his side as your expression softened. “You look cool, and you're not dressed like a slut... We should've matched, a vampire slayer would've been perfect and niche enough for you..” you muttered with mock disappointment, smoothly dodging his question.

Pope couldn't help but chuckle at your attempt to deflect his question with a playful jab at his costume. He knew you too well not to see through your subtle attempt, but he decided to go along with it anyway, appreciating the distraction. Leaning his head against yours, he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, cause a vampire slayer would be so much cooler than a badass pirate," he teased, his voice dripping with mock sarcasm. He glanced down at your cape, a sly smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Though I'm a little jealous of the cape, I won't lie."

You grinned at his compliment on you cape, the only vampire adjacent feature of your skimpy costume, bumping your shoulder against his. "We're like the odd ones out of the group.." you mumbled quietly, sighing softly your eyes drifting to JJ and Kie on the couch for a split moment before going back to Pope.

Pope's gaze followed yours toward the couch, his eyes landing on the sight of JJ's hand tracing circles on Kie's bare thigh. He averted his eyes, a mixture of discomfort and resignation on his face. He turned back to you, his voice dropping so only you could hear it.

"Yeah," he responded, a hint of bitterness seeping into his words. "It's like they're rubbing it in our faces, huh? 'Look at us, we're in love.'"

You reached out, squeezing his cheek with your free hand and shaking your head with the same resignation falling over your features, trying to widen your grin to lift his spirits. "You can stick to my side all night, i'll even make you my special drink, the redbull and smirnoff reckless shot..."

A small smile tugged at Pope's lips at your affectionate gesture, appreciative of your attempt to lift his mood. He rolled his eyes at your suggestion, but there was a hint of genuine hope in his eyes as he responded.

"You still remember that, huh?" he teased, referring to the signature drink you'd created for him on their first trip to the boneyard party. His eyes widened slightly, a playful spark in his gaze. "You sure you're not just trying to get me wasted to take advantage of me?"

You placed a hand over your chest in mock offense at his teasing accusation, your mood lifting at the banter between you and Pope. You liked Pope because he was in the same situation as you at the moment and on top of it, the sweetheart out of the three male pogues. You didn't understand how Kiara turned him down, but then again you were also in love with JJ. Because JJ had a way of burrowing himself under people's skins. You knew you and Pope could joke around like that because there was no hidden agenda under the teasing. He was still crushing on Kiara and you were hopelessly in love with her boyfriend so you both found comfort in the shared struggle. "I don't need to get you drunk to take advantage of you.." you grinned, teasing back and rolling your eyes as you squeezed his shoulder.

Pope chuckled at your mock offense, his dark eyes lighting up with amusement. It was a familiar routine for you both—light-hearted banter as a shield to deflect the bitter sting of their shared unrequited loves.

He raised an eyebrow at your retort, a knowing smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He knew you were just joking, but he still played along, feigning shock.

"Oh really now?" he responded, his voice mock-scandalized. "And just what do you plan to do to me while I'm vulnerable, huh?"

"Horrible things.." you muttered, flashing your fake fangs at him with a hiss and a chuckle.

Pope shivered comically, pretending to flinch away from your fake fangs with mock horror. His eyes widened, feigning fear playfully, but there was a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. He let out a dramatic gasp, putting on his best scared victim impression.

"Oh no, not the fangs! I surrender! I surrender!" he exclaimed, raising his hands in mock surrender, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Please have mercy, oh mighty bat lady."

You threw your head back as a snort of laughter escaped your lipstick stained lips before looking back at him with a wide grin mirroring his. "God, you're so dorky.. No wonder you don't get any.." you teased again.

Pope feigned offense at your teasing, slapping a hand over his chest in mock hurt, though the corners of his lips still tugged upwards into a smile.

"Hey, hey," he protested, waving a finger at you. "I may be dorky, but at least I'm not the one prancing around in a tiny vampire costume and fake fangs."

You rolled your eyes, slinging your arm over his shoulder again as you leaned your whole weight on his side on purpose. "It's time to move out, loser gang! To my humble abode for the party of the summer!" shouted Sarah from behind you and Pope, a flushed and slightly out of breath John B trailing from behind her. Which caused you to shot Pope a knowing sideways glance before the two of you chuckled in amusement, walking lazily towards the front door of the chateau, still clinging to Pope just to annoy him, JJ and Kiara following behind you with Sarah and John B.

John B and Sarah were practically glued to each other, barely able to keep their hands to themselves as they stumbled out the front door. The couple were clearly in a world of their own, lost in a haze of attraction and affection. Meanwhile, Kiara and JJ were a few steps behind, their hands clasped loosely but comfortably. It was a familiar sight, one that you'd grown accustomed to, but it still managed to stab at your heart every time you witnessed it. Pope's arm wrapped around your waist in a semi-protest, but he didn't make any attempt to pull away as you writhed and danced annoyingly as you walked towards the Twinkie, almost tripping due to the heels on your boots.

All six of you made your way out into the crisp night air, the faint sounds of music and distant laughter from other parties filling the air. The sky was a velvety black, dotted with a handful of stars, the moon hanging low, a thin sliver illuminating the shadows in the streets. Pope's arm instinctively tightened around your waist, keeping you steady as you stumbled a little, the effects of the alcohol you drank at the small pre-game starting to show.

"Watch it, killer," he teased, voice affectionate yet slightly worried. "You planning on making us both fall flat on our faces?"

You chuckled at his words, bumping your head into his as you continued to dance as you walked, humming the tune of the last song you listened while getting ready. "Come on, dance with me Popes.." you squeezed his shoulder, grinning as your mood continued to lighten as you walked.

Pope rolled his eyes but obliged, joining in your little dance, matching your steps without protest aside from an exaggerated sigh of defeat. He chuckled as you sang along to the song and bounced along, trying to keep up with your tipsy, yet energetic vibe.

JJ walked a few paces behind you, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the little dance session between you and Pope. His eyes flicked between the two of you, taking in your carefree attitude and the way Pope's hand was still wrapped around your waist, almost protectively.

As the two of you danced your way to the Twinnie, John B and Sarah took the lead, their figures disappearing into the Twinnie. They were lost in their own little world, no doubt already planning their own pre-party fun. Kiara and JJ were a few steps behind, Kiara giggling as she stumbled over her own feet, stumbling into JJ's side.

Pope chuckled as he saw them stumble, catching sight of JJ's hand darting out to steady Kiara with a small, almost unconscious movement, his fingers grabbing her arm to prevent her from falling over.

He shot a small sideways glance at you, a mix of annoyance and resignation crossing his face. He was silently wondering when the night would finally come when he'd be that guy, the one with effortless charm, the one who could easily get the girl of his dreams. He tried his hardest to act like it didn't bother him, but you knew him better than that. You could see the flicker of disappointment in his eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw as he watched JJ and Kiara laughing and having a good time.

Pope was a lot of things, but a good actor wasn't one of them.

You climbed into the Twinkie, settling beside Pope in the back of the old van as JJ and Kiara slid into the seats in front of you. The engine rumbled to life as John B turned the key, and from the passenger seat, Sarah piped up excitedly, her voice brimming with anticipation. “Okay, are we ready? Everyone present?”

Grinning, you threw your arm in the air, holding onto Pope’s hand to cheer him, and hollered to match her excitement. “All present, Captain!”

A chorus of agreement followed your cheerful response, each of your friends shouting their confirmations. Kiara and JJ's voices mingling with yours and Pope's, the atmosphere inside the Twinkie charged with excitement and anticipation.

John B chuckled, shooting a quick glance at Sarah who grinned back at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. As the engine revved, the van pulled out into the night, the streets of the Outer Banks passing by in a blur of shadows and dim streetlights.

The drive to Figure Eight, toward the Cameron house, was filled with excitement—mostly from you singing off-key to the songs blasting through the van’s speakers. Pope hesitantly joined in, while the others laughed at your lifted spirits. By the time you pulled up to the Midsummer Frights party, you had successfully drowned out any lingering jealousy over JJ and Kiara sitting in front of you.

Still swaying to the music, you stepped out of the Twinkie, your eyes scanning the familiar sight of the now-crowded house. The driveway was packed with decorated cars, their colorful lights casting a glow against the stark white paint of the posh estate. Partygoers—clad in all kinds of ridiculous costumes—moved to the beat of the music, which pulsed so loudly that you could feel it thudding beneath your heeled boots and reverberating through your chest. The plan was simple, avoid letting your gaze linger on JJ and Kiara the whole night and try not end up hooking up with Rafe Cameron. Pretty simple, right? What could go wrong?

As you walked towards the glass doors you scanned the front of the house, decorated with numerous halloween decorations tweaked with a summery twist. Hawaiian shirts and glasses on the skeletons littering the driveway, the carved watermelons with small candles inside them sitting by the doors, the bloodied up strings of hibiscus flowers hanging from the balcony which was filled with zombie cheerleaders and surfers. The group fell into a conversation as the six of you stepped into the crowded house, occasionally smiling or complimenting acquittances as you clung to Pope's side your singing drowned by the blaring music.

The thing with Midsummer Frights parties was that whatever happened at the said ragers, stayed in the said ragers. Meaning there was a 'no phone rule'. Mainly because it was more fun to surrender your phone till sun up or when you left the house party. That way the kooks and pogues alike could go overboard without anyone filming and posting the videos or pictures. Which were less exciting when you were sober and seeing yourself make a fool of yourself on someone's random snapchat story. You dropped your phone in one of the numerous boxes laid out on a few tables, grinning and giggling with Sarah and Kie as you made your way further into the house, gushing about the good job she did at getting the house ready for the party.

As you and the others made your way further into the house, the music growing louder, the lights growing brighter, and the atmosphere more and more electric. You could feel the energy in the air, the excitement and possibility of the night. Pope stuck by you, his arm loosely wrapped around your waist as you clung to him, trying to ignore the sight of Kiara and JJ walking a few steps in front of you. Every time you glanced at them, you could see the way Kiara would lean into him, her head resting on his shoulder or her hand finding his.

The sight sent a pang of jealousy and disappointment through you, but you tried to shake it off, focusing instead on the festivities surrounding you. The house was buzzing with life, filled with kooks and pogues alike, all dressed up in elaborate costumes. You passed by a group of girls in matching angel costumes, their halos and wings glittering under the low lighting, their faces made up in ethereal white, and you heard a few snickered comments as they watched you, Pope, and the others walking by.

But you didn’t care, your main concern being to stick to your plan of not looking at JJ and Kiara for the rest of night. It helped that you had Pope by your side, your arm looped through his as you leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. He was a familiar and comforting presence, always there to crack a joke or distract you from your thoughts.

As you made your way further into the house, the noise and the movement of the crowd growing more overwhelming, Pope leaned down to speak into your ear.

“Wanna get a drink?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the thudding music. His hand on your waist gently squeezing, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hip through the fabric of your mini skirt.

Your hand reached up tugging on one of the short twists falling over his eyes despite the bandana tied over his forehead, smiling widely at his suggestion. "The decision to add the gold hair cuffs makes you look even more pirate-y.." you raised your voice over the music, as you slowed down behind the group, making a bee line for the makeshift bar as you continued to sway to the rhythm of the song playing.

He chuckled at your touch, his hand coming up to playfully swat away your fingers that were toying with his hair, though the action only seemed to make the strands fall more into his face. At your compliment, his smile widened, clearly pleased with your approval. He walked in step besides you, his hand finding yours as you made your way towards the makeshift bar, the lights flickering and casting a faint, colorful glow against his face.

"Hey, gotta fit the part, right? And you look pretty fly yourself in that vampire get-up. Just don’t go biting anyone's neck,”

You came to a stop in front of the bar, your hands reaching for the smirnoff bottle and one of the redbull cans, as Pope unwrapped his arm from around you to fetch two red solo cups. A small frown tugged at your features slowly as you watched Kiara and JJ play beer pong against Sarah and John B a few good feet away before looking down at the cups and cracking open the can of energy drink. "The marginalization of Y/n Y/l/n and Pope Heyward should be studied.." you spoke up, turning to repeat the bitter sentence closer into Pope's ear so he could hear it as you poured the vodka in the cups.

Pope chuckled at your comment, his eyes following your gaze toward Kiara and JJ. His hand paused for a moment as he watched them for a brief moment before he looked back down at the cups, his smile faltering slightly. He could feel the bitterness in your words, the sadness and pain that was masked by the fake smile you had plastered on your face.

"Marginalized. That’s a fancy college word," he teased, his voice taking on a slightly playful tone as he tried to steer your mind away from the situation. "You been reading a dictionary or something?"

You grinned proudly at his subtle praise on your vocabulary expanding and being fancy before you poured the redbull over the vodka and raising the cup to him, bumping yours against his before taking a tasting sip. "Yep." you raised your voice over the music once again, popping the 'p.' "I'm not quite on your level of nerdiness yet, but i'm getting there.." you added teasingly as you swallowed the sip of the speedball, your face souring up slightly as the vodka burned your throat. "Think i put a lil' too much vodka.." you leaned in again, pointing to his cup with a smirk.

Pope chuckled at your response, a slightly bashful expression crossing his face. He took a sip of the drink, his own face twisting up as the alcohol hit his tongue. His eyes widened slightly, and he let out a quiet grunt of agreement as he swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I think that's an understatement," he said with a grimace, his eyes glittering in amusement. "There's a thin line between 'strong' and 'lethal' and I think you just went waaay over the lethal part."

You both stood there, your hands clasped around your cups, the crowd around you moving to the music, the energy of the party growing more and more intense as the night wore on. The bass of the music thumped in your chest, the air around you feeling heavy. Pope stood beside you, his eyes wandering to Kiara and JJ every now and then, the sight of them together a constant reminder of your own unrequited love. But he quickly looked away, trying to focus on your conversation instead.

"You think there's anything stronger here?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

You looked over your shoulder at the couple, your face twisting in discomfort once again like you swallowed an entire cup of vodka with no chaser, before turning back to Pope with a bitter expression. The sight of Kiara slinging her arms around JJ's neck as she kissed his cheek excitedly as she landed one of the balls in Sarah's cup and causing her to drink sent a small sting of jealousy through you. "I don't think getting hammered will help with the fact that Kiara will still be JJ's girl even after you black out.." you leaned in as you took another sip on your drink, studying his features under the pulsing lights of the party.

Pope let out a low, bitter laugh as he watched Kiara and JJ. The sight of them together was familiar to him, but it never hurt any less. Pope's eyes found yours, his usual easygoing expression flickering for a moment as a mixture of frustration and resignation crossed his face.

"Yeah, I know," he said in a low voice, his hand gripping his red cup tightly. “But I might as well be drunk enough to act like I don’t care, right? Because that’s all I got right now, huh?”

Your mouth hung open dramatically in feigned shock as you placed the cup on the makeshift bar stepping closer and slinging your arms around his neck as you leaned in to speak "What do you mean? You have me! Unrequited love is a bitch but she seeks company or however that quote goes.."

Pope's eyebrows raised slightly at your dramatic reaction, his hands coming up to rest on your waist as you placed your arms around his neck, pulling you closer. Despite himself, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at your attempt to make him feel better. He let out a soft laugh at your words, his eyes meeting yours as he held you against his chest.

"Did you just quote Edgar Allan Poe?"

You paused for a second mulling over his question before snorting in amusement, "I dunno.. Did i? There was a similar quote in 'Teen Wolf'" you muttered between chuckles.

Pope rolled his eyes at your response, a mix of amusement and playful exasperation crossing his face. He couldn't help but crack a smile at your confession that you didn't know the source of the quote, his fingers tracing small circles on your lower back.

"Of course it was from Teen Wolf. That explains a lot," he teased.

"How does the Edgar Allan Poe quote go? I'm curious to know now.." you muttered before pulling away to lean against the table, grabbing your cup and taking another sip once again.

Pope took a moment to think, frowning slightly as he recalled the quote. After a few seconds, his eyebrows lifted in recognition, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He looked up at you, his eyes glimmering in amusement as he recited the well-known line.

"In a kingdom of the blind, a one-eyed man is king. Or in your context, a one-eyed man and an unrequited love."

You snorted, the sound of your laughter barely cutting through the thump of bass and tangled chatter around you. Talking to Pope was always refreshing—he could pull quotes like that out of nowhere, say them with a straight face, and somehow make you feel like they mattered. That alone put him miles ahead of JJ in the poetry department. Honestly, you never quite understood why Kiara didn’t stick with Pope. If you weren’t already madly—pathetically—in love with JJ, you might’ve been harboring a soft spot for the nerd standing in front of you.

Unfortunately, the universe only allowed you to unfriendzone one of your best friends, and Pope wasn’t the lucky one.

“How the hell did my quote turn into whatever that was?” you asked, grinning at him, your voice curling with amusement. “How did your brain even connect the two, nerd?”

Pope chuckled at your reaction, his smile widening at your question. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought about the quote and its connection to your situation.

"Well, think about it. In the quote, the one-eyed man reigns over the kingdom of the blind, right? He's got an advantage, a different perspective. But he's also alone, because everyone else can't see what he sees. It's kind of like your situation. You're the one-eyed person in your own version of the story."

You paused at his deep literary analysis, swirling the contents of your red solo cup around humming under your breath. You didn't really have the brain capacity to have a deep literary conversation at the moment but you didn't really wanna sound dumb in front of Pope, especially since he was the king of nerds. "But i'm pretty sure the only one who's blind in my story, is the object of my unrequited love!" you spoke up loudly gesturing vaguely behind you at JJ, still playing beer pong with Kiara by his side. "I think everyone can see how in love with JJ i am!"

Pope followed your gesture, his eyes landing on JJ and Kiara a few feet away. He watched for a moment as they laughed and spoke, their banter and ease with each other undeniable. He took another slow sip of his drink before speaking again, his voice a bit louder over the music.

"I don't think JJ's blind," he said, his tone a mixture of humor and knowing. "I think he just chooses not to look."

Your face pulled into a frown going silent for a few moments before smiling bitterly "That is way harsh, Popes..!" you shouted over the music, downing the contents of your cup in one go and setting it on the table.

Pope winced at your reference to a 1990s teen movie, but he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He reached for your cup, refilling it from the bottle of vodka before handing it back to you.

"I'm just being honest. It kind of makes sense too, you know," he continued, shrugging slightly. "JJ's more comfortable with not confronting his feelings. It's easier to pretend it's not happening."

You looked down at the cup before pouring the remaining redbull over the vodka Pope poured for you. "Well so does Kie... She knows about how you feel and yet she ignores it for the peace of her own mind. And besides what good would it be if either of them addressed our feelings for them, if they have each other?" you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as you swirled the vodka with the energy drink before taking a sip, your eyes fixed into Pope's dark ones.

Pope's expression turned bitter at your words, his jaw clenching slightly. Your hand on his shoulder was a comforting weight, but the sting of truth in your statement was a painful reminder of the reality. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he downed the rest of his own drink.

"Yeah, because that's always the excuse, right? 'They have each other.' But what about us? What about what we want? The universe just decided that we don't get to be happy?"

You studied his expression—tight, bitter, and so heartbreakingly familiar—and your heart twisted for your best friend. Setting your cup down, you offered him a warm smile, one laced with genuine sympathy and unspoken understanding.

“Fuck the universe!” you shouted over the music, your grin breaking through the haze of melancholy as you grabbed both his hands and swayed them side to side in rhythm with the song. Then, without thinking, you pulled him into a tight hug and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Nothing flirty, nothing complicated—just comfort between two people who knew what it felt like to want what they couldn’t have.

You pulled back and gave his shoulder a firm pat. “We’re at a party full of hot people in even hotter costumes,” you said, your voice firm now, as if trying to shake you both awake. “And we’re standing here moping over two people who are dating each other. No. No more of that. You’re getting laid tonight, Pope. And by the time we leave, you’re not gonna be thinking about Kiara. I promise you that. There’s gotta be at least three girls here with a thing for the smart, broody type—and we’re gonna find her.”

Pope laughed at your sudden burst of energy, his bitterness fading for a moment as he let you twirl him around to the music. Your words and the quick press of your lips against his cheek lifted his mood, and he couldn't help but crack a small smile when you pulled him into a hug.

As you pulled back, your pep talk made his chest swell with affection. He raised an eyebrow at your determination, amused and slightly skeptical.

"You sound way too excited about getting me laid tonight."

You sighed, dead-panning momentarily as you asked in a mock serious tone "When was the last time you got laid, dude?" you asked, raising one brow.

Pope's smile faltered momentarily as he thought about your question. He couldn't remember the last time he was physically intimate with someone, and the realization hit him a little harder than he expected. He took a slow sip of his drink before answering, his voice slightly sheepish.

"Uh... it's been a while," he admitted, shrugging slightly to mask his embarrassment.

You sputtered, waving your hands dismissively as you leaned against him turning to scan the party, taking a sip of your drink. "So with the new hairdo, and hopefully a successful pep talk from your one and only bat lady, you have a 75% chance of getting some tonight." You stated as if you were stating some facts and calculations you did, pointing vaguely to his freshly done twists and costume. "And i mean the hot, mysterious pirate look is really doing it for you. Now you just need to find out with what kind of spooky, skimpy creature you wanna hook up with!"

Pope couldn't help but smile and chuckle at your confident declaration, his ego and his spirits lifted slightly by your kind words. His hand came up to tug one of his twists, a gesture more of nervousness than anything.

"Is that so?" he teased, his eyes flickering over the sea of people around them. "And what about you, oh wise bat lady? Are you gonna find yourself a vampire to hook up with tonight?"

You hummed dramatically, tapping your chin as you pretended to think about it before erupting into another wide grin "Oh, you know damn well i'm getting railed by a guy in a mask tonight." you spoke mischievously, nodding as you leaned into his side even more.

Pope's laughter rang out over the music at your declaration, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he pulled you into his side. His eyebrows raised in amusement and slight disbelief at your confidence.

"A guy in a mask, huh?" he repeated, his voice laced with both humor and disbelief. "You really know how to pick 'em, don't you, bats?"

You followed suit, snorting in amusement at his teasing remark and nickname. "I dunno how to pick people, i hook up with them and hope they can make me forget about my issues and unrequited love." you stated smugly.

Pope couldn't help but roll his eyes yet again at your casual description of your romantic exploits, though his lips tugged into a small smile at your confidence. He knew you often used physical encounters as a way to distract yourself from the pain of your unrequited feelings.

"So, it's more about the act than the person, huh?" he said, his voice a mix of sarcasm and genuine curiosity. "Doesn't that get lonely, bats?"

You closed one eye as you scrunched up your face in dramatic discomfort, casting him a side glance, "Why are we getting deep with it, captain hook?" you asked, your groan barely audible over the party sounds.

Pope burst out laughing, his head tilting back as he held onto your arm for support. He loved the way you deflected his question with humor, his own annoyance at your habit of avoiding deeper conversations replaced by amusement.

He composed himself, clearing his throat and shaking his head with a smirk.

"Forgive me, bat lady. I forgot we were only allowed to talk about shallow things while at an alcoholic costume party."

You shoved him away playfully rolling your eyes while doing so, "You're such a dork!" you stated before grabbing his discarded drink on the table and handling it to him with a determined sparkle in your eyes under the pulsing party lights. "Now take this, down it in one go and go make mama bats proud!"

Pope chuckled at your playful shove and eye roll, taking the drink from you with a grin. The determination in your eyes was infectious, and he couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at your challenge.

He raised the drink to his lips, taking a deep breath before tipping it back and downing the contents in one quick gulp. He let out a small cough as he swallowed the alcohol, a small, slightly pained grin on his face.

"Done. I hope I made mom bats proud," he said, laughing at his own joke.

You shook your head, suppressing a chuckle as you spoke "Not until we meet back here later tonight and you tell me you managed to score with at least one dead 'Victoria's secrets angel' or a zombie cheerleader!"

Pope chuckled, a mixture of skepticism and determination on his face. He knew you were a bit pushy and competitive, but he also knew it was all in good fun. He set the empty cup back down on the makeshift bar.

"One Victoria's secret angel or zombie cheerleader," he repeated, nodding firmly. "Yeah, yeah. I got it. We'll reconvene later and compare notes, I guess. You better find yourself a masked mystery man too, bats."

You nodded excitedly, as you flashed him two thumbs up as a gesture of support "We have no phones to tell the time so just-... we'll meet right here at the bar once we're done."

Pope returned your gesture with a nod, his smile widening at your enthusiasm. He knew that you were probably more invested in this challenge than he was, but he also couldn't help but feel a small flutter of competitiveness within himself.

"Deal." he said firmly, holding up his hand, pinky extended. "No phones, just good old-fashioned meeting back at the bar when we're both satisfied with our conquests."

You looked down at his extended pinky, a lopsided grin tugging at your lips before hooking your pinky with his and shaking them lightly, thumbs pressing together to seal the deal. "Deal, captain hook." you leaned in so he could hear you, narrowing your eyes in determination.

Your signature cheeky smile and the familiar feeling of your pinky interlocking with his gave Pope a comfortable sense of familiarity and warmth. Despite the chaos of the party around them, the simple act of sealing a silly deal with you felt intimate and grounding, a reminder that no matter what happened, you were still his friend.

He squeezed your pinky firmly in response, his gaze meeting yours as he nodded, his own eyes mirroring your determination and confidence.

"We have a deal, bat lady." he smirked.

You grinned widely, backing away as you swayed playfully to the song playing, calling out to Pope's retreating form into the crowd "Meet you back here, hook! You better not disappoint mama bats!"

Pope chuckled at your playful farewell, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at your words. He knew you were probably going to hound him later if he didn't uphold his end of the deal, but deep down, he kind of enjoyed the pressure. It gave him something to work towards, a goal to meet, something to take his mind off of Kiara.

He gave you one final smirk before disappearing into the crowd, his heart set on proving himself. And his mind fixed on somehow swooning a girl enough for him to hook up with.

You walked backwards from the drink table, your gaze locked shamelessly on JJ and Kiara now tangled together on one of the couches, their bodies pressed close, lips fused like they didn’t once swear they were just friends. You took a sip of your drink, the burn of vodka doing little to distract you from the bitterness blooming in your chest.

So locked in your spiraling thoughts, you barely noticed the music thumping harder, the crowd shifting—and then, the solid force of someone’s chest meeting your back.

“Fuck! Shit—!” you hissed, stumbling forward and nearly losing your balance on the cursed heeled boots, your cup sloshing dangerously in your grip. Before you could fully fall, a pair of strong hands caught you by the elbows, steadying you with surprising ease.

You spun around, ready to mutter an apology—or maybe bite back if they were rude—but your voice stalled in your throat.

The guy was tall. Broad. Standing way too close. But most importantly, he was wearing a Ghostface mask.

The tall mystery guy caught you off guard as he steadied you with his strong hands, his firm grip preventing you from toppling over. The sight of the Ghostface mask sent a slight shiver down your spine; it was eerie and somehow oddly attractive at the same time. His identity was completely concealed behind the white, hollow gaze of the mask, adding an air of intrigue and mystery to his presence.

He pulled you closer to him, his eyes studying you through the mask, his voice low and gravelly.

"You alright, love?" he asked.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, head tilting as you tried to match the voice that cut through the music—a deep, distorted growl that sent a flicker of recognition down your spine. But no. Voice changer. Clever. He was really sticking to the Ghostface character, even if the outfit was a remix. No flowing black robe. Just a fitted black wife beater clinging to his toned chest, paired with low-slung jeans that somehow made the mask ten times hotter and ten times more unsettling.

Not fair.

His hands were still on your shoulders, firm but not pushy, lingering like he was waiting to make sure you wouldn't fall again. Or maybe just enjoying the excuse to touch you. Either way, the contact sent a quick jolt of awareness down your arms, but you stayed still, studying him.

"Uh… yeah. I’m more than alright," you said, offering a breathless chuckle that betrayed the nerves curling low in your belly. "But I think I spilled my drink..."

You leaned in just slightly, voice pitched loud enough to be heard over the bassy throb of the music but low enough to keep it between the two of you. His mask tilted again, like he was watching you beneath it—curious, amused, or maybe just deciding if he liked what he saw.

Ghostface couldn't help but chuckle lowly at your nervous yet intrigued reaction, his eyes roaming over your form as you leaned in closer. He could tell that you were both wary and attracted with his choice of costume and demeanor, and he found it amusing. He kept his hands on your shoulders, his grip tightening slightly, as if he didn't want you to get away. He could feel the warmth of your body as you leaned in closer, your nervous chuckle and your slight scent of vanilla and alcohol reaching him. He took note of the slight hitch in your voice, a small tell-tale sign that he was having an effect on you.

His gaze roamed over your form from behind the mask, taking in your costume, starting at your black bikini top and cape and ending at the black knee high boots.

"Ah, such a shame," he replied, the voice changer adding to the eerie and gravelly tone of his voice. "Does this mean I'll have to get you another one?" he added with a touch of playfulness.

The mask creeped you out a bit, although the feeling was squished down by the feeling of weirdly being attracted to the whole mysterious getup, especially the fact that you couldn't even pinpoint his personality from the way he spoke. But he just spoke three sentences to you, what were you saying? "Well i don't really take drinks from strangers... not even if they're hot." you teased, eyes stille narrowed.

The Ghostface mask may have had a creepy feel to it, but you couldn't help but feel a strange attraction to his mystery and anonymity, and the way he seemed comfortable with his persona. Ghostface let out a low chuckle at your comment, his grip on your shoulders loosening slightly, but not letting go completely. He tilted his head, his voice slightly playful under the modulator.

"So you think I'm hot, eh, love?" He took a step closer, bridging the distance between you a bit more, his body slightly towering over yours.

"That wasn't my point.." you replied, a lopsided smirk tugging at your red lips, tilting your head up to keep your gaze fixed on the white of the eerie mask under the pulsing party lights.

Ghostface chuckled again at your quick retort, finding it amusing how you tried to backtrack from your own comment, despite his clear awareness of it. He leaned in slightly, his voice taking on a slightly teasing tone under the modulator.

"No, but you still said it. Meaning you do find me hot. " he retorted, his tone holding a hint of cockiness.

"For what i know you might be ugly under that stupid mask so.." you trailed off, tilting your head to the side.

Ghostface's smirk widened under the mask, finding your retorts amusing and intriguing. He took another step closer, now standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He could sense a challenge in your words and decided to play along.

"Ah, but what if I'm not ugly underneath this stupid mask? What if I'm devastatingly handsome?" he countered, his voice laced with a hint of confidence and playfulness.

You threw your head back at his retort, a small snort of amusement carrying over the music. "Someone who's 'devastatingly handsome' as you like to call it, wouldn't call himself that.." you teased back as you tried to school your expression.

Ghostface chuckled again at your reaction, finding your snarky replies both entertaining and attractive. He raised an eyebrow under the mask, his eyes glinting with mischief as he looked at you through the emotionless gaze of the mask. He leaned in even closer, his body now almost touching yours, his voice taking on a slightly teasing but charming tone under the modulator.

"Is that so, hm? And what should I call myself then? 'Drop-dead gorgeous' maybe?" he replied, clearly enjoying this little game of banter.

"No, but you can call me that.." you grinned mischievously, raising the hand that was still holding onto your almost empty cup of alcohol before downing the remaining drink.

Ghostface let out a low, appreciative whistle at your quick and cocky reply, his eyes raking up and down your form, taking in your confident expression and the way your lips wrapped around the rim of your cup. The sight sent a slight tingle down his spine, his desire for you growing by the second.

"Ooh, getting a bit cheeky with the flirting now, aren't we? I like it." he replied, his voice taking on a slightly huskier tone under the modulator.

Frankly, you weren't sure why you were still entertaining the banter. You could've just apologized for bumping into him and moved on with your night. Perhaps maybe it was the subtle attraction you felt towards this masked stranger or the way he was also handling the situation. Either way, you rolled your eyes with a smirk, shaking your head as you spoke up over the music, "Who even says 'cheeky' these days? Are you british or something?"

Ghostface chuckled under the mask, his eyes crinkling in amusement. He was enjoying your little back-and-forth, finding your sassiness and confidence attractive. He liked the way you rolled your eyes and laughed, and he enjoyed the way your red lips curled into a playful smirk. He found it endearing, and it only added to the intrigue and mystery surrounding his identity.

"Nah, love, I'm not British. But I could put on the accent if you want me to." His voice teased before switching to a thick, exaggerated British accent under the modulator. "Like this?"

You made a fake gagging noise and gesture as you looked to the side, "Please don't.. i hate the british.." you teased again, grinning widely at your own antics.

Ghostface couldn't help but burst out laughing at your exaggerated gagging noise and gesture. Your dislike for the British and playful antics were incredibly interesting, and he found himself falling deeper into this little game you both were playing. His eyes gleamed under the white of the mask, his voice holding a mixture of amusement and charm when he spoke again.

"Hate the British? Now that's a strong statement. I'd say that's borderline offensive, lass." he replied, still talking in a heavy British accent.

Your features twisted in an amused grimace with every word he spoke, eyes roaming over the expression of the mask, the white almost looking like it was changing colors under the pulsing low party lights. "What is 'lass?'" you asked, furrowing your brows as you leaned in once again so he could hear you, catching a whiff of his cologne in the process. Mildly familiar, but not enough to put a face under the mask.

Ghostface laughed at your confused and grimace, finding your reaction priceless. He could feel the heat from your body as you leaned in closer, a pleasant feeling that sent a shiver through him. The way you tilted your head, the way your lips moved, the way your scent enveloped him, it was all driving him nuts. He took a moment to compose himself before replying.

"Lass? It's a Scottish term for a young girl or woman. Like, sweetheart, darling, love, that sort of thing." he explained in the fake accent.

You nodded, humming knowingly, though the sound was swallowed by the thumping music and the buzz of conversation and drunken laughter surrounding you. A silence settled between you as your gaze drifted to his mask, studying it as if staring long enough might reveal the face hidden beneath. It didn’t. The unease in your chest grew, something about the voice changer distorting his words making it even harder to place him. You cleared your throat, forcing a casual tone as you spoke.

"So... you’re Scottish, then?" The question slipped out, your voice lighter than the curiosity burning inside you—though you couldn’t ignore the fact that you’d been staring at him like a complete creep.

Ghostface observed the way your gaze lingered on his mask, trying to decipher any hint of emotion from your expression. He could sense the curiosity and unease within you, and it only fueled his own intrigue. His eyes gleamed under the mask, his own desire to know more about you growing stronger.

When you asked if he was Scottish, he couldn't help but chuckle, the modulator slightly altering the sound of his laugh.

"Nah, not quite. Just playing the part, love." he replied, his voice holding a hint of mischief and playfulness.

He decided to take a step closer, reducing the distance between the two of you even more, his body now practically pressing against yours. His hands remained on your shoulders, his grip firm but not tight, almost as if he was trying to keep you in place, ensuring you couldn't run away (which he knew you weren't planning to do anyway).

"You got any other questions for me?" he asked in that same voice under the modulator, his head tilting to the side, studying your face.

Even with the modulator distorting his voice, you could still pick up the subtle tones beneath it—the teasing lilt, the playfulness, even the exaggerated Scottish accent he'd been mimicking earlier. It was unsettling how much personality still managed to seep through. You took a careful step back, masking the movement with a quiet chuckle, though the weight of his hands on your shoulders lingered. His touch was warm, bleeding through the fabric of your cape, mixing with the heady buzz of vodka already clouding your senses.

"Well... aside from ‘who the fuck are you?’ and ‘why are you so creepy?’, I think you covered everything!" Your voice dripped with sarcasm, your eyes narrowing slightly as your smirk stretched wider.

Ghostface's hold on your shoulders tightened slightly as you took a step back, a subtle reaction to your attempt at creating distance between the two of you. He chuckled under the mask, taking notice of the way you tried to conceal your nervous chuckle by masking it with sarcasm.

"Hey now, I'm not creepy." he protested, his voice holding a hint of mock offense under the modulator, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief. "I prefer the term 'enigmatic'. Mysterious, maybe." he added in a confident tone.

He let his grip on your shoulders loosen, his hands slowly dropping down your upper arms, gently resting on your forearms instead. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing small, almost invisible circles on your skin. His head tilted to the side, considering your previous question for a moment before responding in a faux-serious tone that was laced with a hint of self-deprecating humor.

"As for the whole identity mystery thing... I suppose you're gonna have to make a few educated guesses. Think you up for the challenge, love?" he asked, his voice playful and slightly teasing again.

Your brows knitted together as your fingers instinctively reached for the knot at your neck, fidgeting with the strings of your cape—a distraction, a way to keep your hands busy when the temptation to reach out crept in. Because as undeniably attractive as this masked stranger was, you could never be too sure. Halloween and Midsummer Frights made it far too easy for a psychopath to blend in.

"Challenge?" you echoed, amusement lacing your tone as another quiet snort escaped your lips. "And what exactly would this challenge entail?"

Ghostface watched closely as your fingers fidgeted with the knot around your neck, a subtle sign of the nerves or excitement you tried to conceal. The way you kept a safe distance, almost instinctively, didn't go unnoticed by him, and yet, it only fueled his desire to break down your barriers and get under your skin. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of attraction and intrigue, his voice taking on a sultrier tone under the modulator.

"Oh, it's a fairly simple challenge, really. You gotta guess who I am. If you do, you get a reward."

Your ears perked up at the mention of a reward, intrigue flickering in your eyes. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at your lips as you let his proposition hang in the air just long enough to make him squirm—just a little. He was bold, you had to give him that. Clearly convinced that his identity held enough weight to tempt you into playing along.

"Oh?" you murmured, tilting your head with feigned innocence. "And what exactly do I get?"

You stepped closer, your gaze steady, challenging, letting the tension build as you lowered your voice just enough to make him lean in. "Better yet..." Your eyes dragged over him, starting at the mask, trailing deliberately downward before lingering shamelessly at his crotch. "What if I don’t like the grand reveal? What if I don’t want to claim my..."—your smirk deepened as you let the pause stretch—"reward?"

Ghostface watched you intently, his eyes unwavering and filled with a mixture of amusement and intrigue as you slowly stepped closer, your feigned innocence only adding to the overall aura of mystery surrounding you. He felt his heart rate quicken at the sound of your voice, low and velvety like poisoned honey. He raised an eyebrow (though you couldn't see it) under his mask at the way you trailed your gaze down his body, lingering a little too long in a certain area.

When you paused and looked up at him, he swallowed hard, a feeling he didn't quite recognize stirring in his chest.

He could feel the heat rising between you two, the air thick with sexual tension. Your challenge and confidence only served to increase his own desire and intrigue. His voice, even through the modulator, was gruff when he replied.

"Let's make this interesting then. If you don't like the grand reveal, you can choose to walk away." he paused for dramatic effect, his head tipping to the side in a mock thoughtful manner. "But if you do like the reveal, I get to claim a reward of my own choice. Deal?"

Even with the music blaring, the lights flickering harshly across the crowd, and the hum of drunken conversations around you, you could see his composure slipping. You had no expression to study, no voice untouched by the modulator to analyze—but his body language told you everything. The way he leaned in, the subtle shifts in his stance, the near-imperceptible hesitation before he spoke. He was affected, just as much as he wanted to play the part of the enigma. And maybe, just maybe, he’d danced this dance before.

"What makes you so sure?" you asked, one brow arching as your fingers trailed from his shoulder, slow and deliberate, down to his bicep, lingering on his forearm. "I'm not the biggest fan of surprises..." You tilted your head, lips curling into a knowing smirk. "But I do like the mask."

Ghostface's body tensed faintly under your touch, his breath catching in his chest as your fingers ghosted over his arm, down to his forearm, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake—something he would never admit. Your statement about the mask and your knowing smirk sent a wave of heat through him, his body responding almost involuntarily, closing the distance between the two of you even more. The modulator did its best to hide the slight change in his voice, but the subtle hint of huskiness betrayed him.

"A mask can hide a lot. And reveal even more." he said softly to you.

Your eyes tracked his movement as he leaned in, lowering his head almost desperately until the mask was nearly level with yours. The black mesh of the eye sockets obscured his gaze, but you could feel it—heavy, intent. Your lips parted slightly, amusement flickering through your expression as you met his proximity without flinching.

"Reveal what?" you murmured, voice low enough for only him to hear over the pounding music. Your smirk deepened as you tilted your head slightly. "A mask kink?"

Ghostface's eyes behind the mask widened slightly as he heard your question, the words sending a jolt of something through him—a mix of surprise and a rush of pleasure he couldn't quite describe. He clenched his jaw for a moment, trying to regain control, but the heat in his chest only spread.

His voice came out rougher than before, betraying the effect your words had on him, the modulator not quite hiding the slight gravel and the barely concealed lust in his tone... Though, who were you to blame for that?

"Not just a mask kink, love."

Your brows raised quizzically, pressing your lips as you mulled over his words for a few moments "A fetish, then?" you continued to pry, knowing it was making him squirm.

Ghostface had to suppress a shudder as your words hit him hard, almost making his knees go weak. He had to hand it to you; you were good. Almost too good. You could see right through him, and he found himself liking the feeling more than he cared to admit. He let out a low, ragged laugh under the mask, both flustered and impressed by your persistence. He stepped even closer, his body almost pressed against yours, his voice dripping with a mixture of excitement and barely concealed need.

"A fixation, actually."

Somehow the small statement managed to catch you off guard for a split second, averting your gaze to the side as you ran the tip of your tongue over the fake fangs you had stuck on your molars for the costume. "Fixation is a pretty strong word.."

Ghostface took note of the subtle change in your body language—the way your gaze flicked away for a moment, the way your tongue darted out to touch the fangs in your mouth. It sent a thrilling shiver through him, the sight more arousing than he cared to admit. he couldn't help but chuckle under the mask again at your comment, his voice coming out ragged and eager.

"That's because it is." he replied, his words holding an edge of hunger, as if the term 'fixation' didn't even begin to scratch the surface of what he felt for you.

Ghostface leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear through the mesh, his body almost flush against yours now. He could feel the heat radiating from you, the way your chest rose and fell, the subtle hitch in your breathing. He had to fight every urge in his body to pull you against him, to feel your body pressed against his, to explore every inch of you with his hands and his mouth. But he held himself back, his voice rough and low in your ear, an undertone of pleading.

"I think about you way too much for it to be anything less than a fixation." he admitted.

That was unexpected. You couldn't hide the flicker of pure surprise from your voice this time. His words, murmured low in your ear, were more earnest than anything you'd ever heard—so much so that they drowned out the R&B track pulsing through the speakers. Even with the monotone filter of the voice modulator, they rang in your head, unsettling yet oddly familiar.

Your brows knit together as you turned your head slightly, coming face to face with the eerie mask once again. Your breath caught for just a moment before you asked, voice quieter now, "Do I know you?"

Ghostface froze just for a second as your voice hit his ears—the question like a bucket of ice water over the fire that was starting to burn under his skin. He clenched his jaw, his heart racing in his chest as fear and excitement fought for dominance inside him. His mind raced, trying to decide whether to come clean or to keep up the game. In the end, the need to know gnawed at him more than the fear of being discovered.

"Maybe you do." he answered simply, pulling back just slightly to give himself room to breathe.

The sentence did nothing to calm down the sudden confusion that continued to linger and intensify. "That's not helpful, you psychopath.." you mumbled teasingly, crossing your arms.

Ghostface chuckled, the sound a low, throaty rasp under the modulator. The fact that you were calling him a "psychopath" in a teasing tone, knowing damn well he was one, sent a rush through him, igniting that spark of intrigue once again. He watched you as you crossed your arms, the action drawing his gaze to your chest covered by the black bikini top and back up to your face, the mask obscuring the way his eyes were roaming over you.

"I didn't realize I'm supposed to be helpful." he replied, the hint of amusement in his voice clearly audible despite the modulator.

His answer made you roll your eyes instinctively, a sigh slipping past your lips. Of course, he was being as unhelpful as possible. Typical. Men never seemed too concerned with being useful—at least not in your experience. You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you shot him a pointed look.

"Dropping a line like, 'I think about you too much for it to be anything less than a fixation,' kind of requires you to be helpful when I ask if I know you. Or if you know me."

Ghostface's body tensed slightly as you rolled your eyes, a subtle shift in his stance that betrayed his slight irritation. It was a common reaction, he was used it, and yet something about the way you did it bothered him. The mention of his earlier words—about his fixation on you—sent a shiver of tension through him, his mind racing to find a way out of this. He was never good at lying, but he was good at deflection...

"You didn't ask if I knew you." he pointed out, his voice taking on a slightly defensive tone.

You dead-panned at that, tilting your head in a gesture that screamed 'are you serious right now?' before speaking up over the music again "You know me. If you didn't, you wouldn't have said you think about me.."

Ghostface let out a low growl of frustration under the mask. He was trapped, stuck in a corner without any way out. Your logic was sound, and there was no way he could deny that. The fact that you were able to corner him like that, to see through his bullshit so easily, was both infuriating and... attractive?

"You're pretty observant, love." he admitted, his voice holding a hint of begrudging admiration.

"Don't patronize me." you warned, rolling your eyes again,.

Ghostface clenched his jaw, his irritation flaring up again at your reaction. Your eye roll was like a lit match thrown on a pile of dry wood, the tension between the two of you growing more and more palpable by the second. He had to bite down the urge to say something sarcastic, something that would only make it worse.

"I'm not." he replied, his voice dropping to a low, barely audible growl. "Just making an observation." he added in an almost mocking tone.

Your annoyance and attraction to the mystery, masked stranger continued to grow, the familiar feeling mixing with the haziness of the alcohol in your system. Your expression twisted into a grimace under the low party lights mocking him in a slightly deeper and obnoxious voice "'Just making an observation.'"

Ghostface's irritation flared up again at your mock imitation of his voice, his hands clenching into fists at his side. The low light of the party only served to make you more attractive, more tempting, and for a brief moment he considered just yanking the damn mask off and showing you who he was.

"Mimic me again and I'll shut that pretty mouth of yours real quick, doll." he snapped, his voice low and threatening.

You huffed in the face of his threat, the nickname flying right over your head since you were focused on annoying him now. Even though it should've been a dead give away as to who was behind the mask. "Here you go patronizing me again." you retaliated over the music, dropping your arms to your sides now "Is that all you men do all day? Being condescending and annoying to girls you wanna fuck?"

Ghostface's irritation skyrocketed at your response, the way you so casually brushed off his threat and threw back an insult only adding fuel to the fire burning in his chest. His breathing grew shallow, his body tensing up further as he stepped closer to you, towering above you in a way that was both intimidating and thrilling.

"And here you go provoking men who could easily snap your neck in two." he growled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "Is that all you girlies do all day? Play games and make us men's lives hell?"

You craned your head back, your annoyed glare fixed onto the black mesh of the mask's eye-sockets hoping it reached his own eyes. At his statements you let out a mocking laugh, shaking your head "You're giving yourself too much credit.." you mumbled condescendingly, eyes roaming over his body in a manner that was meant to be belittling. Even though he was right, his arms and big hands combined with the height advantage, definitely should've made you back down. It was never a good idea to provoke strangers.

"And excuse me, person whose identity i'm not aware of.. I'm sorry for making your life hell in the 20 minutes or so of talking to you" you added in a tone that was more sardonic than sweet.

Ghostface felt a mixture of anger and excitement burn through him at your mocking laugh and condescending glower up at him. Your words were like pouring kerosene onto the fire raging in his chest, setting his body and mind ablaze. He clenched his jaw, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he fought the urge to grab you and shut you up properly.

"Twenty minutes of talking and you've already given me a goddamn headache." he snapped, stepping even closer to you, his body almost pressed against yours now. "You're a goddamned pain in the ass, you know that?"

The conversation was giving you whiplash, your emotions switching from uneasy lust to pure annoyance and irritation in the span of five minutes. It was surprising how this unknown guy managed to tick you off and turn you on at the same time. Only one other person managed to achieve such an objective, and gladly for you he wasn't around. "So damn annoying.." you mumbled under your breath, the sound of your words almost getting lost into the background noise as you studied your nails with a bored expression.

Ghostface felt his irritation reach a boiling point at your mumbled words, your nonchalant reaction only adding fuel to the fire. His body was like a live wire, every little thing you did or said sending jolts of tension and excitement through him. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to push you up against the nearest wall and wipe that cool, casual expression off of your face.

"Annoying, really? And you're the perfect picture of sweetness, aren't you?" he snarked, his voice bitter and sarcastic. "A goddamn angel.”

Your eyes snapped up to his masked face, rolling your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, pressing your lips together in growing annoyance, "I'm dressed as a vampire.." you gestured to yourself sardonically "Not an angel.."

Ghostface let out a low, irritated huff at your eye roll, that same mix of annoyance and desire stirring up a storm in his chest. He had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at you, your sarcasm and sass rubbing him in all the right and wrong ways at once.

"And yet you still look like a damn angel." he muttered under his breath, the words slipping out before he could stop himself.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ghostface regretted them. A wave of surprise and discomfort washed over him, the admission slipping out in a moment of weakness. He could only hope you didn't catch what he muttered, but the way your eyes locked with his through the mesh of his mask told him you did.

He clenched his jaw, mentally cursing himself for slipping up and revealing his true feelings. The last thing he needed was for you to know how attracted he was to you, how much he wanted you, how badly he needed you.

You glanced to the side, biting back a mocking smirk at his slip-up—an unexpected crack in what was supposed to be just another irritating interaction. Or so you had assumed. The way the conversation kept shifting—from lust to anger to something dangerously close to desperation (mostly on his part)—was starting to mess with your head. Especially with alcohol buzzing through your system.

"Must be my angelic looks ruining the whole 'dark and mysterious' vibe," you teased, leaning in slightly, playing it cool even as his words flustered you just a little.

He chuckled at your comment, the sound a low rumble in his chest. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as you leaned in, your proximity only making the need to pull you closer even stronger.

"The only thing dark and mysterious here is the fact that I've had a hard-on for you since the second you walked in." he blurted out before he could stop himself, the alcohol making it hard to control his words—and his desires.

The words tumbled out before he could even think, his guard lowered by the alcohol and the intense attraction pulling him towards you like a magnet towards a magnetic field. His breath caught in his chest as he watched for your reaction, waiting with bated breath for you to laugh or roll your eyes again—anything but the fear he feared would appear in your expression at the realization of just who you were actually talking to.

His words hit like a bucket of cold water, instantly dousing the heated annoyance brewing in your chest. In its place, confusion took root—laced with something far more dangerous: intrigue. Fortunately for him, you hadn't pieced it together just yet. You stared up at him, brows furrowed, lips quirking into a lopsided smile as your fingers toyed absentmindedly with the strings of your cape.

Your gaze drifted downward, lingering—unapologetically—in the crotch area, as if silently weighing the truth in his words. Then, without a word, you looked back up, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him squirm.

Ghostface's breath caught in his chest as your gaze slowly drifted south, the slow and obvious way you examined him for a brief moment only adding to the already unbearable tension between the two of you.

He could practically feel your gaze like a physical touch, the weight of it making his body tense, his heart speeding up in his chest. When your eyes met his again from behind the mask, he felt a mixture of flustered embarrassment and need, his body already desperately craving your touch...

He swallowed hard, his voice low and hoarse as he mumbled, "Stop staring."

You huffed quietly, crossing your arms as your gaze lingered on the mask, trying to imagine the expression hidden beneath. Your lopsided smile widened, amusement dancing in your eyes. "Just making sure you weren’t lying," you teased, voice dripping with mock innocence. "You know... as men usually do." A soft chuckle slipped past your red lips.

Ghostface's irritation flared up again at your response, your sarcastic words and that damn smile driving him crazy. Your mention of other men made anger coil in his chest, the idea of you thinking he was just another typical guy making his blood boil.

"I'm not like other men." he shot back, his voice sharp and irritated. "I don't lie." He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a low, dangerous whisper.

"And I have a hard-on, so I wasn't exactly lying about that either, doll."

It was almost comical how he just couldn't help himself—leaning in, stepping closer, throwing out blunt remarks like it was second nature. "So, do you always prance around in a cheap horror movie mask and rely on shock value to get laid, or is that just a Midsummer Frights special?" you quipped, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. Uncrossing your arms, you let your finger trail down his chest, stopping at his belt before hooking it lazily through one of the loops.

Ghostface's breath caught in his chest as your finger began tracing a path down his torso, the touch of your fingertip like a trail of fire across his body. He grunted, his heart skipping a beat as your hand paused at his belt, your casual and teasing movements driving him crazy.

He looked down at your hand, his eyes tracing the path of your finger, his mind racing with a mix of desire and frustration.

"I don't need a mask to get laid, trust me." he retorted gruffly, his voice low and dangerous.

Your gaze lingered on your own finger as it toyed with his belt loop, twisting it slightly before giving a gentle tug, pulling him just a little closer. "The mask is definitely working in your favor tonight," you mused, voice dripping with amusement. "Especially with how insufferably annoying you are." Your eyes flickered up, watching him carefully—searching for any cracks in his composure, any sign that he was unraveling under your touch.

Ghostface stumbled forward slightly as you tugged at his belt loop, his body crashing into you with a grunt, the sudden proximity sending a jolt of desire through him. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to touch you, his body buzzing with a heady mix of frustration and desire.

Your comment hit him right in the chest like a punch, leaving him winded and struggling to find his voice for a moment. And there it was, the crack in his composure he had been trying so hard to conceal—the undeniable effect you had on him.

Seizing the moment, you pushed further, your grin widening as your finger slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, grazing his skin before inching under the hem of his wife beater. With a deliberate flick, you snapped the elastic against his hip, huffing in satisfaction as he flinched ever so slightly.

A low, startled gasp slipped past his lips, his body tensing up as your finger slipped beneath his boxers, the slight graze of your touch sending a jolt of pleasure through him. And then the unexpected snap of the elastic against his hip sent a shock wave of sensations coursing through his body, his muscles twitching in response.

He grunted, his body instinctively pressing closer to yours, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides to stop himself from pulling you against him.

"Fuckin' hell." he grumbled under his breath.

The modulator distorted the small, almost desperate grumble that escaped him, but you caught it nonetheless. Without his expression to read, you focused on every subtle reaction of his body—and judging by the way he tensed under your touch, he was already putty in your hands. The party around you blurred into nothing more than background noise, your world narrowing down to the masked stranger in front of you. You knew he could see the heat in your gaze, the sly grin playing on your lips, and feel your fingers still idly toying with his belt loop. Leaning in just enough to let your breath ghost over the mask, you smirked. "Not so tough now, are you?" you murmured, your voice low, intimate, meant just for him.

Ghostface's body was on fire, every nerve under his skin alive with need and sensation. Your breath on his mask, the feel of your fingers toying with his belt loop—it was driving him insane. He fought the urge to reach up and grab you, to pull you even closer and crash his lips against yours. But he held back—barely—his self-control hanging by a thread.

Your words, spoken in that low, intimate tone, sent a shiver down his spine, his breath catching in his chest as he struggled to respond to your challenge.

"I—"

He cut himself off, his voice choked by a mixture of desire and irritation. He could feel your body heat against his, the scent of your skin driving him crazy, and the way your fingers teased his belt loop only made it worse.

"You're lucky I'm wearing a mask right now." he grumbled, his voice low and rough. "Otherwise, I'd…" he trailed off, his words caught in his throat as he struggled to maintain his composure.

The sentence only made you chuckle, reaching your hand up to trace the same finger that was fidgeting with his belt loop on the cool surface of his mask lazily. "What would you do?" you prodded him to continue, raising your brows expectantly.

Ghostface's breath hitched as you slowly traced your finger along the surface of his mask, the simple touch sending a jolt of desire coursing through him. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his voice under control, but your question—spoken in that casual and curious tone—sent a wave of heat straight to his lower abdomen.

He swallowed hard, his body tense beneath your touch, as he finally spoke, his voice huskier than ever.

"I'd pin you against the wall and show you how hard you're making me, doll." he growled.

The words left his mouth before he could stop them, the raw honesty in his voice both surprising and embarrassing him. He gritted his teeth, waiting for your reaction, wondering if he had gone too far. He could almost feel your gaze burning into him through the mask, igniting a primal need in him to take you, claim you, make you his.

The thought of having you at his mercy, begging and desperate for more, sent a hot jolt of desire through him, his body growing even more tense as he spoke. He could almost imagine the feel of your skin beneath his touch, the sound of your moans in his ears, the taste of your lips.

"I'd make you beg me to stop, just so I could keep going" he murmured hoarsely, his voice dropping even lower, filled with a hint of dominance.

The modulator's eerie distortion of his words sent an unexpected pang of arousal through you, your grin faltering just slightly as your lips parted in something dangerously close to anticipation. Your hand slipped from his mask, trailing down before smoothing over his bicep, your warm palm running up and down deliberately—partly to throw him off, partly to feel the muscle for yourself. You didn’t answer immediately, letting the moment stretch between you. Around you, the party continued—music thumping, people laughing, bodies moving in sync with the chaos of Midsummer Frights—yet none of it mattered. The tension between you two was a living, breathing thing, thick enough to drown in.

Ghostface groaned softly at the feel of your palm against his bicep, the warmth of your touch sending a jolt of desire through him. He couldn't help the way his body leaned into your touch, his muscles tensing under your hand as he imagined what it would feel like to have those hands all over him.

He gritted his teeth, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he waited for your response, each moment that passed feeling like an eternity. The world around them faded into the background, all he could focus on was the heat between the two of you.

He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with a thousand dirty, filthy thoughts, each one more erotic than the last. He wanted you—needed you—more than he cared to admit, and he was losing his damn mind with each passing second.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse as he muttered out a challenge, his tone both a threat and a promise.

"Say something." he grumbled, his voice rough and desperate. "Or I'm going to lose my goddamn mind."

His muttered command pulled you out of your small trance, your lashes fluttering as you blinked up at him, momentarily lost in thought. Your mind raced a thousand miles an hour, grasping at any clue as to who this masked stranger was—someone bold enough to both infuriate and intrigue you in equal measure. Your hands stilled, still resting against the firm muscles of his biceps, your lips curving into a mischievous smirk.

"What am I supposed to say?" you murmured, feigning innocence, stretching the tension between you like a taut wire ready to snap. Your fingers glided over his chest, slow and deliberate, before trailing up to toy with the cold metal of his chain, twisting it between your fingertips as you stared up at him through your lashes.

Ghostface's breath caught in his chest as he felt your fingers tracing a path along his chest, stopping to tease his necklace. He gritted his teeth, his skin burning under your touch, desperate to feel more.

He could feel the tension between you stretching taunt, the air so thick with desire it was almost tangible. His eyes narrowed behind the mask as he watched you, his body practically thrumming with need and frustration.

"Say anything." he repeated, his voice rough and urgent. "Please." he added as an afterthought, the plea slipping out unintentionally.

Your gaze dropped to his chain, your fingers playing with the cool metal as his plea settled in your drunken mind, sending another wave of heat through your body. Your smirk deepened as you mulled over his words, reveling in the power you held in this moment. Slowly, you curled your fingers around the chain and gave it a gentle but firm tug, bringing his masked face even closer to yours.

"I'll let you do anything you want to me if you tell me who you are..." you murmured, your voice laced with feigned sweetness, though the underlying intent was anything but innocent—suggestive, filthy, and entirely deliberate.

Ghostface's breath hitched as your fingers curled around his necklace and tugged, bringing his face a dangerous inch closer to yours. His heart was racing, his body thrumming with desire and annoyance, frustration and need.

He gritted his teeth again, your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. The offer was both enticing and infuriating, his mind racing as he tried to resist.

"Anything..." he repeated through the mask, his voice low and hoarse. "Anything I want?" he grumbled, a hint of challenge in his tone.

His mind was swimming with possibilities, the images of the things he wanted to do to you playing out like a filthy, erotic movie behind his eyes. He could feel the tension growing, his body growing more heated and strained as he fought the urge to give in to your demand and just take you right here, right now.

His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, his voice coming out in a low, dangerous whisper.

"You really want to know who I am, doll?" he murmured, his tone a mixture of challenge and caution.

You swallowed, anticipation thick in your throat, nodding in response to his question as your palms continued their slow exploration over his chest. Your teeth grazed your bottom lip absentmindedly, the familiar pull of curiosity mingling with the haze of alcohol clouding your mind. There was something about him—something recognizable in the way he spoke, the way he carried himself—but the liquor dulled your ability to place him.

"I really wanna know who you are..." you whispered, your grin turning almost wicked as your eyes traced over the mask once more, "then I'll let you do anything."

Ghostface's breath caught in his chest as you nodded, your hands tracing a slow, torturous path over his chest, his body tense and taut like a coiled spring. Your confirmation that you really wanted to know his true identity sent a jolt of desire through him, his mind warring with himself.

Your words, spoken in that low, filthy tone, sent his control spiraling, his mask-concealed face taking on a look of both restraint and yearning.

"You promise I can do anything I want to you if I tell you?" he asked, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

You nodded, going back to toying with his chain wordlessly as you waited, your anticipation seeping through your nonchalant demeanor.

Ghostface felt his body tense even further as you nodded, agreeing to his deal. His mind was racing, torn between keeping his identity a secret and giving in to his primal desire for you. Your fingers played with his necklace, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat coursing through his body.

He gritted his teeth, his resolve slowly crumbling as he stared at you, his gaze intense and hungry behind the mask.

"Say it again." he growled, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Say I can do anything I want to you. Please."

You loved how this man's desperation managed to seep through the power of the modulator, his words making you even more aroused and needy. You loved desperate men, because if a man yearned he earned, and he was definitely earning his place right now. You reached up wrapping your hands around his neck, partially covered by the hood attached to his eerie mask. You swayed side to side as the song changed to a slower track your gaze fixed on the exaggerated, hollow black eyes of the mask. "I'll let you do anything you want to me.. If you show or tell me who you are.." you repeated slowly, your voice mingling with the slow song playing in an intimate way.

Ghostface's body tensed further at your touch, your hands wrapping around his neck, the feel of your fingers sending jolts of pleasure through him. The way you swayed to the slow music only added to his growing desire, and the words you spoke sent a jolt of mixed excitement and trepidation through him.

He felt his control slipping, his mind warring with his body's primal need for you.

"I'll tell you." he rasped, his voice ragged with need. "But I'm keeping my mask on. Deal?"

A small chuckle escaped your red lips, still lazily swaying to the song playing in the background before narrowing your eyes teasingly up at him, "You wanna keep the mask on while you slut me out?" you grinned widely, the sentence making you chuckle almost nervously. "Then just tell me who you are so we can get it over with" you leaned in whispering in anticipation.

Ghostface's breath hitched at your chuckle, his body flooding with heat as you whispered the words in that teasing, almost playful tone.

He gritted his teeth as a wave of desire washed over him, his body responding instinctively. For a moment, he considered continuing to mess with you, to draw out this game of cat and mouse a little longer.

But the need to have you, to take you and make you his, overpowered his self-control, and he spoke in a hoarse murmur.

"You'll hate me." he warned.

He could see the curiosity and excitement in your eyes, could feel the way your body swayed with the music, and the anticipation in your voice was driving him crazy.

Ghostface felt a shiver run down his spine. The deal was set, and there was no going back now.

He leaned down, his voice a low, gruff murmur, his body practically trembling with need.

"I'm not the guy you think I am." he said slowly, his voice barely audible over the music and the roar of the party around you. "There's a reason I'm wearing this mask."

Your brows twitched in slight confusion at his words, your arms around his neck tensing as you tried to decipher the cryptic meaning behind them through the haze of alcohol. Hate was a strong word—even for you. Sure, you threw it around loosely in some cases, but without a single clue as to who he was, the idea of hating him felt... misplaced.

You let out a small, awkward chuckle, your expression caught somewhere between amusement and genuine bewilderment. "Hate you?" you echoed, tilting your head slightly. "Why would I hate you?"

Ghostface's heart sank at the confusion in your eyes, at the way your arms tensed around his neck, the uncertainty in your voice. He could see the gears turning in your mind, trying to make sense of his words.

He gritted his teeth, his body still thrumming with heat and need, but a pang of guilt crept in as well. The words that came out of his mouth next were strained, a mix of shame and determination.

"Because of who I am." he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

The faint trace of self-deprecation in his voice made you pause your swaying completely, thrown off by the weight of his words. Because of who he was? What kind of answer was that? If he thought his identity was that much of a deal-breaker, then who the hell was he? You’d hooked up with strangers before—that wasn’t the issue. But the way he spoke, the way he hesitated, made it clear that whoever he was, you didn’t just know him—you apparently hated him.

Before you could laugh it off, maybe even suggest keeping the mask on if it really bothered him that much, a hand suddenly landed on your shoulder, startling you. You unwrapped your arms from Ghostface’s neck, turning to find JJ staring at you with an irritated expression. "I called your name like five times, are you deaf?" he asked over the music, his gaze flicking toward the masked stranger beside you. You grimaced at the interruption, rolling your eyes before leaning in so he could hear you. "I'm in the middle of a conversation, JJ," you grumbled, huffing in annoyance.

Ghostface bristled at the sight of JJ and the way the man was touching you, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The interruption was unwelcome, to say the least, and his irritation only grew as he saw the way you leaned in to speak with the blonde surfer. He could practically feel the possessiveness flaring up within him, the instinct to claim you right now burning through his veins.

He stood his ground, his eyes narrowing behind the mask as he watched the exchange between you and JJ.

JJ's gaze flicked from you to the masked stranger, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of your arms around his neck, your body pressed close. He couldn't help the hint of irritation in his voice as he spoke, his hand grasping your shoulder a little more tightly than necessary.

"Are you even gonna introduce me to this clown?" he asked, his tone slightly mocking as he studied the taller, more mysterious figure beside you.

JJ’s interruption only fueled the frustration bubbling under your skin, a mix of irritation and the jealousy you’d been trying to suppress all night. First, he paraded around with Kiara like it was nothing, and now he was trying to cockblock you? What kind of shitty friend was he trying to be this week?

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms as you cast a side glance at Ghostface before turning back to JJ, your jaw tightening in secondhand embarrassment. "He's literally right here, y'know? He can hear you," you muttered sardonically, the pointed edge to your voice unmistakable. Then, just to drive the point home, you stepped closer to Ghostface, draping an arm over his shoulders lazily, your body language making it clear—you were exactly where you wanted to be.

JJ's irritation flared at your sarcastic words and the way you draped your arm over the mystery man's shoulders, clearly staking a claim. He let out a scoff, his eyes narrowing as he watched the two of you.

Ghostface’s heart skipped a beat as you moved closer to him, his hands immediately coming to rest on your hips, as if to keep you close, to claim you back. The possessive gesture was unconscious, and he silently thanked the mask for concealing the sudden look of satisfaction on his face. He could feel his jealousy and irritation ease slightly at the display.

JJ's eyes flicked back and forth between the two of you, his jaw tensing at the sight of Ghostface's hands on your hips, the way you clung to the mystery man like a lifeline. He could see the possessiveness in the man's stance, the way he held you close, and it only irritated him further.

"And he’s got a name, right?" JJ asked, his voice gruff and slightly condescending, his gaze fixed on the man in the mask. He took a small step forward, his tall frame attempting to intimidate the taller man.

Ghostface felt his jaw tense at the challenge in JJ's voice, the way the man stepped forward like he was trying to assert his dominance. The sheer audacity of it infuriated him, his hands gripping your hips just a little tighter, pulling you even closer to him, almost like a protective shield.

He could feel the anger burning inside him, but he kept his voice even, his head cocked to the side slightly as he looked down at JJ, his eyes narrowed behind the mask.

"Does it matter?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

JJ's eyes narrowed even further at the response, his irritation flaring at the man's dismissive tone. He took another step forward, his body tense and his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, so we're playing the mysterious thing now, huh? Great." he sneered. "Guess I'm just supposed to let my best friend wander off with a random dude in a mask, right?" His gaze flicked back to you, his expression hard and almost protective. "Did you even bother to ask his name before you started drooling all over him?"

You sighed again, exasperation weighing heavy in your chest as JJ refused to back down. His persistent questioning had to be confusing the masked stranger by now, especially considering JJ had spent the past hour glued to Kiara’s side, laughing over beer pong and acting like the perfect boyfriend. Yet here he was, grilling you like you owed him an explanation. And the way he spoke to you? The underlying judgment in his tone? It made your skin prickle with irritation. Like he thought you were some kind of slut for entertaining a stranger at a party. And maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong, but that wasn’t the point.

"What do you want, JJ?" you finally snapped, voice rising just enough to cut through the music and chatter around you. Your expression remained unimpressed, arms still draped lazily over Ghostface as you intentionally ignored JJ’s question about his name—mostly because you didn’t have an answer either.

JJ's eyes flared at the sharp tone in your voice, his irritation shifting into outright anger. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he watched you clung the mystery man, your arm slung casually over his shoulders. The image only added fuel to the anger burning inside him, the sight of the man's hands gently resting on your hips both infuriating and disheartening.

"What I want is for you to be a little smarter." he snapped, his words biting. "You don't even know who this guy is. You're not seriously letting him take you somewhere private, are you?"

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though JJ’s persistent glare was beginning to gnaw at your nerves. Deep down, you knew there was some truth to his concern—he was your best friend, after all—but JJ never did anything without a tangle of complicated emotions behind it. He never liked playing second, not even in your life. And his jokes about acting like an overprotective brother? They always carried a sharp edge of something else. Something a little too possessive to be brotherly.

You leaned in, voice just loud enough for him to hear over the thumping bass and drunken chatter around you. “It’s Midsummer Frights. I’m supposed to have fun, right?”

Leaning back against the masked man with an air of mock ease, your fingers toyed with the hem of the hood, feeling the tension radiating from JJ like a furnace. Under the strobing lights, his jaw clenched and his eyes flickered from you to the man at your side. His tense expression only made your smirk curl a little higher at the corners.

JJ’s eyes narrowed at the sight of you leaning against the masked man, the way you toyed with the hood. It was almost like you were taunting him, rubbing salt in the wound. His jaw clenched even tighter, the muscles ticking under his skin as he gritted his teeth.

"There's having fun, and then there's risking your damn safety, you idiot." he shot back, his voice gruff. "You don't even know who this guy is. What if he's some kind of psychopath or, I don't know, a goddamn serial killer?"

There was something deliberate in your casualness as you turned to face the nameless man, a playful grin tugging at your lips. His large hand rested against your bare waist with an ease that felt oddly familiar — like he had touched you a hundred times before. The weight of it was steady, almost possessive, and you didn’t miss how effortlessly he kept you close.

Your words, though laced with amusement, were sharp — meant to mock JJ’s sudden concern. A best friend was supposed to trust you, not corner you like some reckless idiot. The irony of him questioning your choices after spending the last hour wrapped around Kiara wasn’t lost on you — and it only fueled your irritation.

Leaning into the masked stranger just enough to make your point, you let the sarcasm drip from your voice, loud enough for JJ to hear over the pulse of music and laughter around you.

"You're not some psychopathic serial killer, are you?" you asked, voice sweet but biting — the grin tugging wider across your lips, knowing full well the jab wasn’t really meant for the man beside you.

The man's hold on you felt almost protective, like an intimate gesture that carried a hint of possessiveness. He seemed to draw you closer, keeping you safely tucked against him, as if to shield you from any harm that might come your way.

His voice was deep and distorted by the modulator, but the playfulness behind the words was evident as he chuckled gently. "No, I can assure you, I'm nothing of that sort." His tone carried a hint of mischief, a knowing that he was enjoying every second of this little game.

JJ's irritation flared further at the sound the man's gravelly voice, the way he held you so close. His eyes darkened, the concern turning into something more primitive and raw. The sight of your bodies pressed together, the way you fit so naturally against him, like two pieces of a puzzle, it all served to fuel the anger coiling in his chest.

"Oh, well if he says he's not a serial killer, then he must be the epitome of safety and sanity." he shot back with biting sarcasm. "That definitely makes it all better.”

The masked man's hand on your back was steady, his grip a clear sign of his possessiveness, his claim over you. It was evident in the way he held you, the way his body seemed to move automatically to keep you close, as if it was instinctual. He leaned down, his voice a low rumble against your ear, his words meant for you and you alone.

"You're all mine for the night." he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper, barely audible over the music and the noise of the party.

As Ghostface leaned in, his masked lips brushing close to your ear in a teasing whisper — clearly playing into your little game — you couldn’t help the small, breathy giggle that slipped from your lips. Your finger traced a slow line over his chest, deliberate and featherlight, as you toyed right back with him.

"Oh really?" you asked in a low, playful murmur meant only for him, grinning in the dim party lights — relishing the fact that JJ couldn’t hear what the masked stranger had said to you... or what you were answering to. And that was exactly how you wanted it. Payback.

He didn’t get to play concerned best friend when he’d spent the last hour parading around with Kiara like you didn’t exist — like you didn’t see the way they clung to each other. He didn’t get to question who you were talking to or what you were doing when the only reason you were even entertaining hookups lately was to drown out the sting of watching him fall for someone else.

Random hookups had become your defense mechanism — though calling them random was starting to feel like a stretch. Recently... it had just been Rafe. Only Rafe. And even that was starting to feel dangerously intimate — too much, too complicated. You didn’t even know how to bring it up, how to untangle the blurred lines between you.

And maybe that’s why you were so willing — eager, even — to lose yourself in this masked stranger tonight. Because Rafe wasn’t here. And neither were your complications.

Just a warm hand on your waist, a low voice in your ear, and the perfect distraction from the chaos in your chest.

Ghostface couldn't help but feel a pang of satisfaction at the sound of your soft, breathless giggle, his hand around your waist tightening involuntarily. The way your fingers traced along his chest sent a shudder of desire through him, the intimate touch almost primal in its possessive need to claim you. But even beneath the mask, his heart skipped a beat as he heard your next words, his mind racing with the possibilities.

He kept you pressed closely to him, his voice barely audible, the modulator adding a dangerous edge to his already deep, velvety tone.

"Yes. All mine."

JJ watched the interaction between you and the mystery man in front of him, his irritation growing by the second. The sight of you laughing softly, your hand tracing slow patterns on his chest, filled him with a strange mix of irritation, jealousy, and an unexpected pang of hurt. He clenched his jaw tighter, his knuckles turning white as he fought the sudden urge to reach out and pull you away from the masked figure.

He gritted his teeth, his voice rough and biting as he tried to keep his cool.

"What the hell is so funny?" he hissed.

The man in the mask turned to look over at JJ, his eyes hidden behind the dark mask, but his body language spoke volumes. He was silently challenging him. His hand on your waist was still steady, his grip almost possessive, his body angled slightly to keep you tucked against him, clearly communicating a message of ownership and protection. He spoke up, his voice once again distorted but firm.

"None of your goddamn business." he said, his tone cool and dismissive.

JJ's irritation flared at the man's words, the dismissive tone and the way he clutched you against him like a prized possession making his blood boil. He took another step towards you both, his muscles tense and his eyes fixed on the nameless figure.

"You made it my business the second you started pawing all over my best friend." he shot back, his gaze flickering to you before returning to the man's hidden face. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

The mystery man chuckled, his body relaxing slightly as he continued to hold you against him. The sound was almost sinister, the modulator deepening his voice to an eerie pitch. But there was a hint of amusement as well, like he was enjoying toying with JJ.

"Just a harmless stranger." he replied, his tone nonchalant. "Though you seem a bit too invested in who she’s hanging out with tonight." He tugged you closer, his hand still firmly on your waist.

JJ's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as his irritation flared even further. The way the man spoke, the tone of ownership and the possessive hold he had on you… it was all driving him wild with frustration.

"I’m allowed to be invested when it comes to my best friend." he snapped, his voice harsh. "She's clearly not thinking straight if she's letting some random stranger feel her up like that."

The man in the mask chuckled again, the sound low and mocking. He leaned down, his lips behind the mask moving closer to your ear, as if he was whispering something only for you to hear. Despite the modulator, JJ could hear the hint of a smirk in his voice.

"Maybe she likes the way I feel her up, huh?" he murmured, his hand slowly tracing up your waist, lingering on your bare skin for a moment longer than necessary before returning to your hip.

Your gaze slid toward the masked stranger when his hand traced a slow, deliberate line up and down your waist — the touch sending a quiet shiver down your spine despite the crowded heat of the party. Under the pulsing lights, your eyes lingered on the sharp angles of his mask, studying him with a subtle intensity you didn’t bother to hide.

You shouldn’t enjoy this — shouldn’t let some stranger use you as a weapon to mock and rile up your best friend... but JJ had pushed first. He was the one who crashed in, interrupting and questioning you like he had any right — like he wasn’t the reason you were here with someone else in the first place.

So you stayed quiet. You let the moment hang — thick with tension, stretched between the two men — and let JJ stew in it.

Your lips quirked in the faintest hint of amusement, resting comfortably against the stranger’s side, waiting — almost daring JJ to speak again before you decided to step in.

JJ's eyes narrowed further, the tension in the air almost palpable. The way the mystery man touched you, the possessive way he held you, it was all wrong. It shouldn't be some tall man in a mask that touched you like that, it should be him, it should be-.

He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his anger in check, but the sight of your quiet smirk sent his irritation flaring once again.

"God damn it," he snapped, his voice growing louder. "What is wrong with you tonight?"

His words — laced with that familiar judgment and sharp edge — were enough to snap whatever thread of patience you’d been clinging to. The irritation bubbled over before you could bite it back, washing away the playful, careless mask you'd worn just moments ago.

Your features hardened, brows knitting together as you stepped away from the masked stranger without hesitation, closing the distance between you and JJ in a few sharp strides.

With a firm push to his chest, you shoved him back just enough to make your point clear, just enough to make him listen.

"No."

Your voice was low, tight with anger, burning hot enough to cut through the music and noise around you.

"What the hell is your problem?"

You pushed him again — less forceful this time, your hands lingering against his chest for a beat longer than necessary before falling away.

"Why are you trying so hard to cockblock me, JJ?" The words weren’t playful. They weren’t teasing. They were sharp — biting — because this wasn’t just friendly concern anymore. This was something else.

JJ stumbled backward, caught off guard by your sudden burst of anger. He stumbled a couple of steps back, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he took in the sheer anger etched across your features. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen you genuinely mad, and seeing it now sent a pang of guilt through him — mixed in with that familiar irritation that seemed to flare up every time you were around each other these days.

His jaw clenched as you pushed him again, your hands on his chest, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Cockblock you?"

He tried to keep his voice even — or as even as possible given the situation — but the anger was still there, just below the surface. He held your gaze, his eyes dark and intense as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"I’m not trying to cockblock you, you idiot." he snapped, his arms falling to his sides. "I’m trying to save you from making a big mistake! One you're about to make just to spite me."

"Spite you?" you echoed in a quiet, disbelieving whisper — like the words tasted sour on your tongue just saying them out loud.

Your brows knit together, irritation flickering just beneath the confusion twisting across your face. Spite him? Of all things?

Here you were — stumbling your way through random hookups, drowning whatever lingering feelings you had for him in alcohol and strangers' hands — all because he made it clear his attention belonged to someone else now. And this was what he thought of you?

Your jaw tensed, voice dropping lower — more bitter.

"You think I'm doing this to spite you?"

Because that said more about him than it did about you.

JJ's eyes locked on yours, a mix of guilt and irritation warring in his gaze. Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, the raw honesty and the bite in your voice sending a pang through his chest.

He took a small step forward, closing the distance you'd created when you pushed him, his hand reaching out to gently grip your wrist before he could stop himself. The feeling of your skin under his touch sent a jolt of awareness through him, a reminder of how much he missed just being near you.

"I don't know what else I'm supposed to think,"

His voice was gruff, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to keep you close, but not enough to hurt. He held your gaze, watching the mix of anger and hurt play across your features. It was a sight he knew intimately, one he'd seen a thousand times in the years he'd known you, but never directed at him in quite this way.

"You've been hooking up with every guy in sight and getting wasted at every party, and now you're going home with some dude in a mask? It's obvious something is going on."

The warmth of his fingers wrapped around your wrist made you pause for a moment, your teeth grazing over your red, smudged lips. This conversation felt like it wasn't supposed to happen in the middle of a costume party, that you should be talking when you're both sober and calmer. Something was going on, that much was obvious. But when the cause of your problems asks you what issues you're facing, all you can do is backpedal as fast as you can. Because that part of you that was madly in love with JJ was already starting to freak out just from him holding your wrist and looking into your eyes with that blue intensity.

"I just wanna have fun.." you managed to mumble out, meeting his gaze head on, even if it was less angrier now.

JJ's gaze flicked over your features, taking in the smudged lipstick on your lips, the way your eyes met his, the hint of vulnerability in your voice. His grip on your wrist loosened, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy pattern against your skin, an action so casual, so intimate, that it would have seemed deliberate were it not for how natural it felt to him.

His voice was soft, his expression a strange mix of frustration and something almost tender.

"You're acting reckless." he said quietly.

He stepped closer, so close you could smell the faint scent of saltwater and cigarettes on his clothes. His thumb continued its slow tracing, the movement growing more insistent as if he was trying to resist the urge to hold onto you tighter, to bring you closer and to just... keep you close.

"You're acting like a mess." he added, his voice low, his gaze fixed on your face, studying the way you looked up at him with that stubborn, vulnerable look on your face. "That's not how you have fun, and you know it."

You huffed, tearing your eyes away from his. The weight of JJ’s gaze was too much — too intense, too knowing. And the slow, absentminded way his thumb traced circles against your wrist wasn’t helping. If anything, it only made things worse — made it harder to ignore the ache in your chest. For a fleeting second, it was so easy to pretend he was yours. That the way his blue eyes locked onto yours was laced with something softer — love, maybe — instead of frustration. That the small, lopsided smile he always gave Kiara could’ve been meant for you.

But that wasn’t reality. Reality was standing right in front of you — JJ Maybank, in a matching costume with his girlfriend somewhere in this very house, playing the role of the concerned best friend like it was second nature. And maybe it should’ve been enough for you. But it wasn’t. Not when he looked this good. Not when the messy fall of blonde hair into those stupidly beautiful eyes made your heart stutter. Not when that damn unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt showed off just enough of him to make your drunk brain forget all the reasons you shouldn’t care.

You risked a glance over your shoulder — toward the masked stranger still lingering near the grand staircase. He was deep in conversation now, but every so often you caught him glancing your way, like he could still feel the ghost of your body against his. Like he was waiting. But right now? JJ still had you tethered to him with just a hand around your wrist.

"JJ..." you breathed out, your voice softer this time — tired, maybe. Dizzy. "Seriously... we should talk about this another time."

JJ's jaw clenched at the sound of your voice, the softness in it, the hint of exhaustion, the hint of... something else he wouldn't let himself dwell on too much. His thumb stilled against your wrist, his fingers tightening almost possessively around the expanse of skin. Your words didn't just sound like a dismissal — they sounded like a plea, an escape, and he couldn't have that.

"No." he said, his voice firm and resolute. "We're talking about this now. Here. With me."

JJ took a step closer, closing the distance between you, his body almost flush against yours. His grip on your wrist was the only anchor keeping you from stepping back, from creating a barrier of much-needed space between you and the overwhelming nearness that was JJ Maybank. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in every inch with an intensity that felt almost physical — like he was using his gaze to touch you everywhere.

"You're drunk." he said, the roughness in his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch.

His demanding words and soft, gentle touch was so confusing. It was messing with your mind how many mixed signals your best friend managed to send in the span of two days. How utterly undecided he could be and how much your feelings for him overwhelmed you at times. "So are you... so is everyone at this stupid party." you muttered, trying to sound sardonic but failing at it. "You're so confusing JJ.." you added after a few moments, face pulling into a small frown, gnawing at your bottom lip as you studied him under the pulsing lights.

JJ's eyes flicked down to your lips as you chewed at them under the flashing lights, the sight stirring something deep within him, something primal and dangerous. He'd never seen you look this good - this sexy - in all the years he'd known you, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to lean in and just... taste you to see if you felt as good as you looked.

He blinked, his grip on your wrist tightening reflexively before he spoke - his voice rough, the words slipping out almost involuntarily.

"You're not helping..."

He was trying so hard to keep the tone in his voice cool, casual, detached, but he couldn't shake the low, gravelly edge that had crept in uninvited. His gaze dropped to your lips again, watching as you chewed at the soft, red flesh, and a rush of heat shot through him, settling low in his stomach… and lower, if he was being honest.

He shook his head, his jaw clenching as he gritted his teeth. Damn it, why did you have to look so good under these stupid, flashing lights?

His eyes flicked to your eyes again, the mix of feelings raging within him almost suffocating now. Frustration, irritation, a growing need to feel you under his hands, to pull you closer and just... devour you until you forgot your name. He swallowed, his hand still gripping your wrist, his thumb tracing another lazy pattern against your skin.

He took another step closer, the distance between you narrowing even further, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, the subtle, masculine scent of him filling your senses.

You shook your head, eyes flickering almost desperately over his face — searching, panicked — as he continued to crowd into your space, leaving you barely any room to breathe. The only thing keeping you steady on your uncooperative heeled boots was the firm grip he still had on your wrist. God, you could’ve just died right there — right in the middle of this stupid party — melted straight into the floor in a mess of jealousy, frustration, and all the feelings you worked so damn hard to bury. Yeah. Jealousy. No point in lying to yourself by now.

Because just beyond him — further into the throng of sweaty, drunken teenagers — you caught sight of Kiara weaving her way toward her boyfriend. Drunk. Grinning. Oblivious as she stumbled through the crowd with every intention of crashing whatever fragile moment this was between you and JJ. And he hadn’t even noticed her yet — still too focused on you, too close, too intense. You figured you had maybe four more seconds. Four more seconds to shamelessly stare at the lips you’d spent way too many nights thinking about — the shape of them, the curve, the way they looked under the pulsing party lights. And just like that, he licked them — quick, agitated — and it made your heart seize painfully in your chest. He was frustrated too.

JJ was hyper-focused on you, on the way your eyes searched his face, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard, the way your pulse jumped under his thumb on your wrist, every little detail seared into his memory. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your face, from the way your lips parted as you panted softly. You looked like a mess - messy hair, messy make up, eyes glazed over from alcohol, and a red, bitten-raw lip. And you still looked so damn good.

He didn’t notice Kiara.

He was so lost in you that he didn’t hear Kiara’s drunken giggling as she staggered through the party toward the two of you. He didn’t see her stumble over someone’s foot, or the way her eyes lit up when she saw JJ’s figure towering over you. All he could see, all he could focus on, was the way your chest rose and fell with every breath, the heat of it against his chest, the scent of your vanilla perfume filling his senses like a sweet, heady addiction.

He didn’t hear her call his name, her voice cracking through the music. He was still too consumed with you, still too lost in the feeling of your skin under his thumb, the way your eyes burned into his, the soft, ragged, uneven breathing that fell from your parted lips. He didn’t hear Kiara - not until she stumbled up to you both, her body pressing up against his side, her arms snaking around his waist as she hiccupped out his name with a drunken, happy little grin on her face.

JJ’s jaw clenched, his eyes widening with surprise.

He swallowed hard, his grip on your wrist loosening a fraction as Kiara clung to him, her body warm and familiar against his side. He could feel his irritation flaring at the interruption, at the way she shattered the tension that had been building like a storm between you two just a moment ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to push her away. Not when she looked so damn good with her body pressed against him like that, her chest heaving with every sharp, breathless hiccup.

He tore his eyes away from you, his jaw still clenched.

"Hey babe,” Kiara greeted, her words slurring together a little in her drunken state. She turned her head to plant a messy kiss to his cheek, giggling softly as she pulled away again.

JJ forced a polite smile, his eyes still flickering towards you from the corner of his vision, watching the way you watched the two of them together. His heart was still racing from your proximity, his skin electric where he’d been touching you, but his irritation at the interruption was slowly fading, replaced by a strange feeling of… guilt? Or maybe just discomfort.

He shifted anxiously, his eyes flickering from you to Kiara and back again. Kiara was completely unaware of the tension between you two - blissfully so - and her drunk state made her clingy as usual, her body still pressed against him in a way that felt almost possessive.

He couldn't help but notice the way your eyes burned with something that looked a lot like jealousy as you watched Kiara cling to him. And a part of him - a twisted, guilty part - found it stupidly attractive. But he knew that wasn't right, wasn't fair.

When Kie's eyes finally flitted to you, you shifted on your feet — awkward, caught — forcing a tight, polite smile as you greeted her over the pounding music. How could someone so smart be so painfully oblivious to the crackling tension in the air? Kie was sharp, sometimes too sharp for her own good. And yet... she’d never clocked the obvious — that your and JJ's so-called friendship had always been built on a fragile, dangerous foundation of sharp words, lingering stares, and all that unresolved, simmering heat.

But JJ had made his choice the moment he got into a relationship — and good boyfriends didn’t get to toe that line anymore. He was Kiara’s now. Not yours. Your eyes flickered down to where his hand had landed, steady on Kiara’s hip, effortlessly guiding her and keeping her from tipping over in her drunken state. The same hand that had been wrapped so firmly around your wrist just seconds ago. The same touch that had your head spinning.

Jaw tightening, you forced yourself to glance away before you could spiral into something ugly — jealousy gnawing at your chest like a wild animal. Your gaze swept lazily over the crowd until — there. Over your shoulder, the masked stranger still lingered by the grand staircase, deep in conversation with some girl in a glittery fairy costume. But his attention? Still firmly on you. Watching you like a cat would watch a cornered mouse — patient, knowing, maybe even amused. You could practically feel the smirk pulling beneath that mask, probably thinking you looked every bit as pathetic and bitter as you felt.

And maybe you did. Maybe you looked like the saddest third wheel at this damn party. But instead of wallowing in it, the anger began to bloom hot in your chest — twisting into something reckless, something dangerous. Your eyes snapped back to the couple in front of you, already imagining taking out every ounce of frustration on the masked stranger later tonight. Or letting him drag it out of you in rough, filthy rounds of sex until you forgot all about JJ Maybank. Maybe both.

JJ could almost feel the heat of your anger and jealousy radiating off you in waves, the sight of it mixing with his own guilt and irritation in an electric current of tension between the three of you. His eyes darted to where Kiara clung to him, to the way her hand rested on his chest, her fingers tracing soft, distracting patterns on his skin. He could see her lips moving, talking about something, but the words didn't reach his ears.

Instead, it was your anger that he fixated on, your eyes burning like embers.

JJ clenched his jaw, his hand tightening almost involuntarily on Kiara's hip, the movement causing her to look up at him with a small smile - a silent question in her eyes that he couldn't quite decipher. But he could feel the weight of your gaze on him, could see the way your eyes flared with something that looked a lot like anger - or maybe it was jealousy.

He was about to say something, to say anything, when Kiara spoke, her voice breaking through the deafening music of the crowded room.

"I'm thirsty, babe," Kiara slurred, her voice cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. She leaned into him, her lips grazing his ear. "Can you get me a drink?"

JJ's eyes widened in frustration, his gaze darting between Kiara and you, his mind racing for an excuse to pull away, to break the oppressive tension between the three of you. But he couldn't think straight, his thoughts all a haze of alcohol, lust and guilt.

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to a group of guys nearby, the ones who'd been eyeing Kiara earlier. He didn't trust them - had never trusted them - and the thought of leaving Kiara alone with them while he fetched a drink sent a pang of protective anger through him.

He looked back at Kiara, his eyes lingering on her face for a beat. She was drunk, her usually sharp eyes glazed over, her cheeks flushed from alcohol and the warmth of the party. She was vulnerable, and he was her boyfriend. It was his responsibility to look out for her.

He tightened his grip on her hip, his voice low and rough as he nodded. "Yeah, give me a sec."

He cast another glance your way, his eyes locking on yours again for a moment. He could see the anger and jealousy in your gaze, and it made his heart thump a little faster in his chest. But he knew he couldn't ignore Kiara's request - not in her current state, not when she was depending on him to take care of her. With a quick, apologetic look, he started to lead her away towards the makeshift bar.

You watched them go — JJ’s hand steady on Kiara’s lower back as he led her away, neither of them sparing you so much as a glance, let alone a goodbye. They didn’t even bother to head to the bar closest to them — the one just a few feet to your left — no, they crossed the room like you weren’t even there. Like you didn’t exist. And God, that stung more than it should’ve.

Your jaw clenched tight enough to ache, frustration bubbling so hot in your chest it felt like it might crack you open. With a quiet curse under your breath, you stomped your heeled boot down on the sticky floor — childish, sure, but it was either that or scream in the middle of the party like a crazy person. The plastic fangs pressed into your lips, a sharp reminder that tonight wasn’t real — none of this was real — and yet you still felt like you were going to come apart at the seams.

Shoving past a couple making out against the wall, you made your way to the bar beside you, quickly mixing a drink with shaking hands, barely tasting it as you downed it in one go — needing the burn, needing the distraction. But it didn’t help. Nothing would.

Because even with the crowd pressing in around you — even with the music vibrating through your bones — you could feel him. The masked stranger. Ghostface. His stare burned into your skin like a brand, like a silent promise. And when you risked a glance over your shoulder — there he was. Still talking to the fairy-costumed girl beside him, all casual charm on the surface — but his eyes never left you. Watching. Tracking. Hunting.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine — equal parts fear and excitement knotting low in your stomach. You turned back around, swaying lazily to the beat as you reached for another drink — already craving something, someone, to drag you out of your spiraling head. To ruin you properly. Someone like the guy watching you across the room, even with the mask concealing his eyes.

Somewhere across the room, the masked stranger watched you down another drink. He'd been watching your every move since JJ and Kiara had started walking away, his eyes fixed on your every gesture. He'd seen the flicker of anger in your eyes, the way your jaw had clenched when they'd passed, the frustration and jealousy that rolled off you in waves.

And he loved it. It was better than any reaction he could have possibly hoped for. It was almost too perfect. Almost like kismet, like fate.

The stranger took a small sip of his own drink from under his mask, concealing the smirk that tugged at his lips as he watched you down another drink. He couldn’t help it — you were a delicious sight, all restless anger and hurt wrapped up in a pretty, vengeful little package. He could see the frustration roiling in your eyes, the way your fingers trembled as you mixed your drink, a sight that sent a thrill through his chest.

You were a wreck, and he loved it. He liked you like this — angry, vulnerable, needy.

He watched as you turned around, as your eyes locked with the fairy-girl beside him, a forced smile on your lips. He could see how fake it was, how much you wanted to scream and yell and break things. He could see the anger and hurt burning in your eyes, the way your body trembled with every ragged breath you took.

And he loved it. You were so different to Kiara, so much more raw, more reckless and more… dangerous. And that made you even more attractive. And he didn't understand how JJ chose Kiara. He didn't understand how the stupid reckless pogue didn't cum his pants at the thought of you being moderately interested in him. Because Ghostface knew he would.

The fairy-girl beside Ghostface said something to him — a flirtatious comment, perhaps, or an invite to dance. But he didn't hear her. He couldn't hear anything. Not over the sound of his own thundering heartbeat, the sound of your name in his mind, the image of your face in his mind.

And it didn't help that you looked the way you did. He knew it was your costume, of course, but god damn, the way your tight little skirt hugged your ass, the way your neck sparkled in the dim light, the way your hair fell around your face, the fucking fact that you were only wearing a bikini top on your upper half, barely covering your tits. God your tits, jaw dropping and mouthwatering. Or maybe it was the fake fangs, or smudged lipstick, or the knee high heeled boots paired with that stupid mini skirt. Vampire costume his ass, you looked like a dominatrix.

He bit back a scoff, his eyes roaming over your body once more, taking in every exposed curve and flash of skin. He could feel his pants growing tighter with every passing second. He wanted you in that skirt. No, he wanted you out of that skirt. And bikini top. He wanted you pressed against him, your body trembling with need, your words soft and breathless, all for him.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t understand how JJ chose Kiara over you. The pogue was an idiot. A blind, stupid idiot.

He watched as you downed another drink, your third in a matter of minutes, the alcohol obviously having an effect on you. He could see the way your movements were less coordinated, the way you swayed to the beat of the music — albeit more slowly than the girls around you. He could see the way your body was relaxing, your shoulders falling, your eyes growing more glassy.

And the thought of you drunk, loose-lipped, and needy? It sent a thrill of excitement straight through his core.

The weight of his stare clung to you tighter than the haze of vodka running hot through your veins. No matter where you went, no matter how crowded the room or dim the lighting — there he was. That ghost-white mask cut through the dark like a spotlight, sharp and unnerving, like he was built to haunt you specifically. And maybe he was.

You should’ve been creeped out — any sane person would’ve been. But fear wasn’t exactly what curled in your stomach every time your eyes locked with that hollow stare from across the room. No — it was something hotter. Darker. Something that made your skin prickle in the best possible way.

He didn’t chase you — not yet. He didn’t approach. Didn’t say a word. Just watched. Waited. Like he knew you’d come undone faster if he let you squirm under the weight of his attention. And he wasn’t wrong.

Every time you slipped into another room — onto another dance floor — there he was again. Blending into the crowd like he belonged here, throwing lazy conversation to random girls in glittery costumes or nodding along with groups of drunk teenagers. But his gaze? His gaze never left you. Like you were the only thing that mattered.

And God, you hated how much you thrived under it.

So you drank. You danced. You avoided JJ and Kiara like the plague, their laughter and soft touches slicing through you whenever they were near — salt in a wound that wouldn’t close. But vodka made it easier — made you feel floaty and weightless, untouchable. It dulled the ache of jealousy and rage bubbling under your skin, but it didn’t dull him. The stranger. The mask. The heat simmering in the air between you both like a fuse burning dangerously low.

He hadn’t touched you again — hadn’t even moved from his spots across the rooms — but it didn’t matter. This felt like foreplay anyway. Like a sick game of cat and mouse. And for the first time all night, you didn’t mind being hunted.

The stranger watched as you danced around the party, his eyes never leaving your figure, tracking your every move, taking in the way your body moved, the way those little fangs flashed when you laughed. He couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the sight of you, the way you were clearly drunk and reckless, all because a boy had hurt you.

He knew he should probably feel some sort of sympathy for you, for the fact that you were so clearly hung up on someone who didn't deserve you. But he couldn't bring himself to feel anything aside from a twisted sort of satisfaction.

He watched you as you danced with a random group of people, your movements becoming more and more erratic as the vodka hit your system. He could see the way your eyes were unfocused, the way your face was flushed from the alcohol and the heat of the room. And yet, despite your drunken state, there was something dangerous about you. You looked like you were one drink away from completely snapping, like you were ready to set the world on fire.

He was almost tempted to approach you, to see what would happen, but he stayed where he was. For now, he was happy to watch.

His heart rate quickened as he watched you knock back another drink, his eyes glued to the way your back arched with the motion, the way your throat moved as you swallowed. He could feel the frustration building in his chest, the restless energy building up with nowhere to go.

He wanted to be the one making you squirm like that. He wanted to see your lipstick smeared, your clothes rumpled, your hair messy with his hands tangled in it. He wanted to see you needy and begging underneath him, begging for something only he could give you.

He couldn’t help but flinch slightly as you took another drink — more vodka, he assumed. Despite the mask, he could still see the way your eyes were becoming more unfocused, the way your movements more erratic, more… carefree. He loved the way you let go like that. So free, unafraid, reckless. And he knew it was the alcohol. But he still loved the sight of it. It reminded him of a wounded animal, feral and dangerous.

And it made him want you even more.

Because for as long as he could remember he felt wounded. Your anger mirrored his, and that's why he liked you. That's why he let himself get tangled in your bullshit, drama filled life in the first place. He was sure you were both born under the same angry star, both of you thirsty for revenge like it was a sip of water on a scorching day. He'd wait, JJ was a reckless idiot and he was bound to mess up your fragile and volatile connection, and then when he would do so, he would be there to catch you. You were worth the wait, and he was a proactive type of person.

You were like two sides of the same coin — both burning up with the need for revenge, both born under the same angry star. But where you were raw and volatile, he was calm and patient. He knew he could wait. He knew JJ would mess up, and when he did, he would be there, ready to catch you when you fell. He'd wait a thousand lifetimes if it meant seeing you undone.

The way you were now — drunk, reckless, so goddamn sexy, and all because of JJ? God, he didn't think he'd last much longer.

He watched as you stumbled over to the bar, your steps uneven and your movements clumsy. He could see the way you were trying to hide it — the way you were trying to appear sober — but it was obvious. You were drunk as hell, and it was doing wonders for his imagination.

He watched as you slammed a shot of vodka, your lips smacking obscenely as you set the glass down — and his hand tightened on his glass, his pants growing a little tighter as his imagination started to run wild.

He clenched his fists, his head spinning with thoughts of what was going to happen when the night was over. He wondered if you would stumble back home, alone and drunk, or if JJ would bring you back to his place, finally drunkenly kiss you and apologize (despite having a girlfriend). He wondered where your night would end, and he hated how badly he wanted it to end in his bed. You were a drunken angel, all flushed skin and sharp-teethed smiles. And he wanted to ruin you. He wanted to ruin you so bad.

He watched you walk away from the bar, your steps unsteady and your movements clumsy. He couldn't help but wonder where you were going. Was JJ watching you? Did he even care?

He watched as you staggered over to a group of girls, your face flushed and your hair messy. He could hear your loud voice, could see the way the group turned towards you, laughing and gesturing as you spoke. You looked like a wild, drunken goddess, and god help him, but he wanted to drop to his knees right there and worship you.

He clenched his fist, his heart racing in his chest as he watched you stumble through the crowd, your movements drunk and careless. He could feel the anger and frustration building up in him again as he realized you were alone. Alone, in a room full of drunk teenagers, and anyone could take advantage of you. It made him sick to his stomach, the thought of someone else putting their hands on you, their lips on your skin. He wanted to kill them all. He wanted you to be safe and sound, wrapped up in his arms where no one could hurt you.

Meanwhile, you were stumbling through the party without a care in the world — or at least that's what it looked like. The alcohol swirling in your veins had dissolved your social anxiety hours ago, replacing it with boldness you didn't usually wear so easily. You flitted from conversation to conversation, laughing a little too loudly at dumb jokes from guys you barely remembered from school, complimenting girls on their necklaces or sparkly makeup like you were everyone's drunk best friend.

You threw Pope an excited look across the room when you caught sight of him actually chatting up a girl — and not looking like he was about to faint in the process. You’d made a bet with him earlier, and damn if it wasn’t looking like you owed him something now.

And it wasn’t like you didn’t have attention tonight — you knew you looked good. Guys passed by with lazy grins, making puns about your costume, trying their luck with a dance or some flirty line. Normally, you might’ve entertained it just to keep your mind off the ache in your chest — the stupid gnawing bitterness clawing at you whenever your brain dragged up JJ and Kiara.

But tonight? You couldn’t be bothered.

Maybe it was the vodka. Maybe it was pride. Or maybe it was the way the masked stranger — Ghostface — hadn’t taken his eyes off you all night. His stare clung to you like a weight, like he was studying you from across the room — dissecting you like some fragile little thing he wanted to break apart just to see how you worked inside.

And damn it — you were still waiting for him. Still aching for it. For something to happen.

As the night went on, his eyes never strayed from your figure, tracking your every movement with a cold, predatory precision. He wanted to go to you, to pull you into his arms and away from the eyes of all those other boys who wanted a piece of you— but he held back.

He knew that approach wouldn't work with you; you were stubborn, like him, and stubborn women needed a different approach. They needed to be caught off guard, seduced into a false sense of safety before they were pulled into the trap.

And so he waited in the shadows, his eyes fixed on your every move. He watched as you laughed, as you stumbled, as you flirted with some random boy in a cowboy costume. He watched as your eyes gleamed with recklessness and a hint of spite, your words getting louder and more careless as the alcohol took ahold of you. He wanted you so badly it scared him, the intensity of his need for you almost overwhelming—

But he held himself back, his body tense as he watched you with the hunger of a predator stalking his prey.

He clenched his fists as he saw you throw your head back laughing, your hair tousled and your eyes shining with an almost manic gleam. You were drunk, but you looked beautiful — like a goddess of chaos and destruction that he wanted to worship. His eyes roamed over your costume — over the tight material that clung to your curves, over the way it teased at the skin he wanted to taste.

He wanted to go to you, to take you by the hand and drag you away somewhere private, where he could claim your body and mind as his ow

The party was still in full swing by the time you found yourself stumbling up the grand staircase of the Cameron’s house, fingers curling around the familiar railing to steady your swaying steps. Your boots clicked messily against the polished floor, the alcohol buzzing loud in your head, blurring the edges of everything around you.

Some guy in a cowboy costume was trailing behind — weaving through drunken couples pressed against the walls and people spilling down the stairs — still trying to catch up with you despite how blatantly you’d made it clear you were heading to the bathroom to freshen up. Not to hook up with him. Not to be another drunk girl lost in the chaos of someone else's bedroom.

Your eyes dragged lazily over the second floor, far less crowded than the mess downstairs, your mind foggy as you tried to remember where the hell one of the bathrooms was. You hadn't been in this house since last night with Rafe — when you’d shown up soaked and reckless in the middle of a storm, heart bruised and ready to start another fire.

And for a stupid second — in the middle of all this noise and drunken haze — you wondered if he was even here tonight. Had he shown up? Or was he deliberately avoiding you? Maybe he was watching, hidden in the shadows like everyone else, witnessing you drink yourself into a mess and spiral out like some pathetic little thing.

Not that it mattered. Not tonight.

You glanced back down the stairs and huffed in annoyance as the cowboy continued to drunkenly make his way up, a small distance between the two of you. You had to act fast, slip into a bathroom before he had the chance to catch up with you. So with purposeful yet clumsy strides you made your way down the familiar hallway, slipping into the first room in your sight. Successfully losing the guy following hot on your trail.

The door clicked shut softly behind you, sealing you in complete darkness. Your back pressed against the cool wood, head tipping back as you sucked in a shaky breath, willing your stomach to settle before you embarrassed yourself and threw up everything you’d downed that night.

You shut your eyes for a beat, letting the ringing in your ears dull now that you were cocooned in silence — away from the bass-heavy music, away from JJ and Kiara, away from prying eyes.

But when you opened them again, letting your vision adjust to the low light spilling faintly from the balcony doors, that lingering feeling crawled right back up your spine — that charged, electric sense of being watched. Like a predator’s eyes were still dragging over every inch of you, even in the dark.

Your gaze flicked lazily around the room — messy bed sheets, sliding balcony door cracked open just slightly, a small bar stocked with expensive bottles across the room, another door that probably led to a bathroom.

And then it hit you.

The realization sunk low in your gut, spreading warmth through your already alcohol-flooded veins.

Rafe’s room.

Of all the damn doors in this house… you had to stumble into his room.

The moment you stumbled into his room, into the one place where he had been imagining shoving you all night long, he felt a wave of heat, of desire, of pure, unadulterated need, wash over his body like a goddamn tsunami.

It took every ounce of self control he had not to rip his mask off and claim you right there and then, but he forced himself to stay hidden in the shadows, his eyes drinking in the sight of you like a man dying of thirst.

From his spot across the room, his back pressed against the wall, his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every little detail — the way your eyes were still glossy, the slight dishevelment of your hair, the slight stain of smeared lipstick on the corner of your mouth. You were drunk, he could see that, and you were beautiful like a fallen angel, all sharp-edged and feral, and he wanted to wreck you. He wanted to ruin you so goddamn badly it hurt.

As you stepped further into the room, your breath caught — shallow, quickened like you were walking straight into a snake pit, every step heavier than the last. It felt stupid, irrational even — like the floor beneath you was lined with land mines and one wrong move might blow you to pieces. Or worse — maybe it already had.

Your fingers ghosted over the rumpled sheets as you hovered by the bed, eyes dragging over the familiar mess. The same tangled covers you’d left Rafe tangled in this morning. Of course he hadn’t bothered cleaning up — it was such a Rafe thing to do. Careless. Chaotic. Real.

For a fleeting second, you thought about collapsing right there — about letting yourself fall face-first into the bed like nothing mattered. Or maybe stumbling toward the bathroom across the room to splash some cold water on your face.

But you didn’t move.

You were stuck — frozen in place — a tight coil of anxiety and something darker twisting in your stomach. Because even with the haze of vodka buzzing through your veins… that feeling was back.

That suffocating, prickling sensation of eyes on you.

Watching.

Studying.

Waiting.

Like you hadn’t escaped anything at all.

As you stood there, lost in your own thoughts and completely oblivious to the fact that Rafe was right in front you, he took the opportunity to drink you in, his eyes roving over your form with an almost feral hunger. His gaze lingered on the stained corner of your mouth, the smeared lipstick, before traveling down to the curve of your thighs, the smooth expanse of skin exposed by your short costume. He could hear your quickening breaths, each ragged gasp sending electricity sparking over his skin.

He could take you now — pin you down on the bed and have you before you even knew what was happening.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his mind swirling with filthy thoughts, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides. He wanted to pull down that goddamn mask and kiss you until you were begging for more, but he forced himself to stay still, his eyes glued to the way your body moved, the way you stood there like some prey frozen in the headlights.

You were drunk beyond the point of making good decisions, and he was going to take full advantage of that fact. You were a gift, and he was going to make sure you weren't walking out of here with your sanity intact.

Your fingers curled around the hem of your mini skirt, tugging it down in a nervous, almost mindless gesture, like that tiny scrap of fabric could shield you from the weight of whatever was lingering in the shadows of this room. The tension crackled around you, thick enough to choke on, thrumming just beneath your skin like static.

You shifted your weight from one heel to the other, fidgeting — restless, heart hammering in your chest like it already knew something you didn’t. The urge to call out pressed against your throat, the urge to say something, anything — to break the suffocating silence. To ground yourself. But your mouth stayed shut.

Instead, your hands dropped from the hem of your skirt, dragging slowly over the crumpled sheets again, fingers brushing over the faint imprint of where someone else had been. Where you’d been. Where Rafe had been. Your stomach twisted.

You should move. You should leave. But your feet stayed planted by the bed like you were caught in some invisible snare — part fear, part thrill, part sick, bitter curiosity about what would happen if you didn’t run.

He watched as your fingers traced the wrinkled sheets, following the path he had taken over your body only hours ago, and it took everything in his power not to reach out and grab you, to slam you back down into the bed and bury himself deep inside you all over again. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

He watched as you toyed with the hem of your skirt, adjusting it as if it would make a difference, and he almost laughed. You were clearly trying to cover up, to shield yourself from his gaze, but he could still see the smooth expanse of your thighs, the curve of your hip. It was almost comical, really — you'd come here to avoid being seen by a random guy from the party, and instead you'd stumbled into the arms of a wolf in sheep's clothing, intent on making you fall apart over and over again.

He could hear the heavy beat of your heart from across the room, could practically taste the tension and unease rolling off you in palpable waves. But you didn't move, didn't run, just stood there rooted to the spot, and it took everything he had not to pounce on you right then and there.

Instead, he pressed his back against the wall and watched as you fidgeted with your skirt, his eyes never leaving your form. He was like a predator waiting to strike, waiting for the exact moment you would falter and fall prey to him.

Maybe you would. Maybe you should.

But pride was a funny thing — sharp and biting and louder than fear ever could be. You weren’t prey. Not you. Not a girl like you — raised with saltwater in your lungs and scrapes on your knees from cliffs too high and dares too reckless. You’d gutted fish and skinned your own catches. You knew what it meant to hunt. You knew what it meant to survive.

And yet... here you were.

Stalking through Rafe Cameron’s room like some lamb that wandered too far into the woods, drunk enough for your heart to race but sober enough to know exactly how vulnerable you were. Especially here. Especially with him.

You shifted your weight again, the sharp click of your heel against the hardwood cutting through the silence like a gunshot. You winced at the sound, breath catching in your throat. But you didn’t stop moving. Couldn’t. That gut feeling coiled tighter in your stomach with every unsteady step — that gnawing certainty that you weren’t alone.

The bed creaked behind you — faint, barely there almost getting lost into the distant sound of the party downstairs. Maybe just the house settling. Maybe not.

But you didn’t look back.

Your feet carried you toward the sliver of moonlight slipping through the balcony curtains, eyes locked on that thin slice of silver like salvation — or maybe just a moment to catch your breath.

He watched as you moved, his eyes tracking your every move like a hawk. Every time your heels clicked against the hardwood floor, a jolt of excitement shot through him.

He could practically taste your vulnerability, your fear and anxiety, and it was making him salivate. He wanted to wrap his hand around your fragile neck and whisper all the nasty, filthy things he was going to do to you right in your ear. He wanted to see you fall apart right in front of him.

Then you stepped closer to the balcony, and he tensed.

He watched as you approached the balcony, the moonlight streaming in through the curtains, falling over your face and turning your skin to porcelain. You looked like a statue, a goddess, and he wanted to worship at your feet, to crawl to you on his hands and knees and bury his head in your lap.

But he didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. He just watched, his mind racing with a hundred different thoughts, each one more perverted than the last.

His eyes roamed over your form, taking in every little detail, the way your skirt hit the back of your thighs, the way your hair fell in soft, messy waves down your back clad in that flimsy cape. He wanted to sink his teeth into the soft skin of your neck, wanted to mark you in places that would make you remember him for weeks.

He knew he should go to you, should pull off his mask and reveal himself, should take what he wanted before somebody else did. But he stayed rooted to the spot, his heart racing, his hand twitching with the need to touch you.

He was a storm building in intensity, his desire for you raging like a violent wind that threatened to tear you both apart. He wanted to tear off that cheap costume and touch you everywhere, to kiss every single inch of your skin until you were begging for more.

But before he could act on that desire, a sharp, unwelcome sound cut through the silence, shattering the moment like glass. A drunken shout from the party below, loud and obnoxious, the sound of stumbling footsteps and voices rising in a cacophony of noise.

The sudden noise jolts him out of his thoughts, his eyes snapping up to the door of the room, a wave of irritation and anger washing over him. He couldn’t care less about the party down there, about the dumb, drunken idiots stumbling around and making a mess.

Even if it was his house, technically..

No, the only thing he cared about was that it had ruined the moment between the two of you. The moment when he was so close to stepping out of the shadows and revealing himself to you.

Your brows furrowed in surprise and confusion as a sudden sound startled you. You spun on your heels, debating whether to step out and check the commotion downstairs—to finally leave this dark, silent room. You could; you had no real reason to be here. But you stood rooted to the spot, fixed on the closed door, straining to catch the distant, faint sounds from the hallway below. You didn’t dare let your gaze roam to find the source of those heated eyes watching you, so you merely hovered by the glass door behind the curtains, tapping your heel in rhythm as you weighed leaving for the bathroom to freshen up.

But of course...

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Not with your skin prickling—the air in the room tightening like a bowstring ready to snap. If you moved—if you dared reach for the door handle—something would unravel. Something would catch you.

Your tapping heel slowed. It stilled.

For a beat, all you heard was your shallow, rapid breathing. Like prey sensing a predator nearby but unable to see it, breathing too fast and too much, the sound somehow grating on your own nerves. Like the air wasn't yours to breathe. Your body was reacting like it was in a flight or fight situation even if there wasn't any tangible threat nearby. And you cursed yourself mentally, berating your self for letting the vodka and lingering anger get to you, make you paranoid.

He stood in the shadows, watching, waiting for your next move. He could sense the tension in the air, the way your body was braced like you were expecting an attack, like you could feel his feral eyes roving over you, drinking you in, memorizing every little detail. He relished in the way your heel stopped tapping, the way your breathing quickened slightly, the way he was making you feel.

And when you finally turned back to the curtains, he took a step forward, his fingers twitching at his side.

He took another silent step forward, the gap between you and him shrinking. He was close now, close enough to touch you, to reach out and run his hand down your spine, to feel the goosebumps that always rose on your skin whenever he touched you. But he didn't. Not yet.

He wanted to savor this moment, this sense of power and control he had over you. He wanted to keep you on edge, waiting for the inevitable moment when he would pounce. Sink his dull canines into your flesh and devour you whole. Because that's what he did, ironically between the two of you he was the one who should've been wearing the vampire costume. He was like a disease, spreading his own twisted morals and grey way of thinking. That's why you were in his room in the first place. Even with the shift in your dynamic that you both felt this morning, even with your friends downstairs. The guy you were in love with, and who didn't have eyes for you.

He continued to watch as you stood there, still oblivious to his presence. He knew he could make his move anytime; he could step forward, press you against the nearest wall and take what he wanted. He could make you moan so loud that the whole damn party downstairs would hear you. You were alone, drunk, vulnerable... you were all his. He wasn't a saint or a good man with a kind soul, and he damn sure didn't have any intentions of becoming one.

But something was still holding him back. A strange, unfamiliar feeling of guilt and hesitation that he didn't want to acknowledge. He had no reason to feel guilty, no reason to hesitate. He had you right where he wanted you — alone, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy. But he didn't want to force himself on you.

No, he wanted you to come to him. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you.

He took another step, closer now, mere inches separating him from you. His hand itches to reach out and touch you, to feel the heat of your skin against his. He could smell you from here, the faint scent of your perfume and the vodka you'd drunk earlier, mixed with something heady and sweet that was purely you. He wanted to bury his nose in your hair and breathe in the scent of you, to lose himself in the taste and feel of your body against his.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low, gravelly whisper.

"Are you lost, angel?"

He spoke the words almost like a whisper, his voice low and deep, holding an eerie quality to them due to the modulator on his mask. He could see the way your body tensed, the way your shoulders straightened, the way your breath hitched in your throat. He could almost see the way your heart rate picked up, your mind whirling and trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He could almost see the gears spinning in your head as you tried to make sense of the situation. "You look like you've seen a ghost.." he added teasingly, not able to hold back on the condescension from his tone even though the way you tensed should've made him feel guilty.

You felt him before you heard him—like static in the air, like the pressure shift before a storm breaks. That prickling sensation down your spine, telling you you weren’t alone. You expected Rafe. Expected his cocky drawl to slice through the silence, some sharp remark about you trespassing in his room.

But when the voice came, it wasn’t Rafe.

The modulated rasp of the mask filtered through the stillness like ice down your spine. A low, vibrating echo that felt entirely too close. Too calm. Too deliberate.

It hit harder than it should’ve—your breath stuttering in your throat, heart jerking against your ribs like it wanted to climb its way out. The alcohol swirling in your system wasn’t warm anymore—it was gasoline, igniting every nerve ending with anticipation or fear—you couldn’t tell anymore. Maybe both.

Your eyes stayed locked on the glass door. On the stars beyond the balcony, sharp and indifferent against the velvet black sky. It was easier than turning around. Easier than looking at him.

Why was he here?

Where was Rafe?

…Was this Rafe?

The questions clawed at your skull, dizzying, suffocating. But still—you stayed silent. Still—you didn’t turn around.

"Cat got your tongue, angel?"

He took a slow, measured step closer to you, his eyes fixed on your back, watching the way you stood there, motionless, as still as a statue. He couldn't blame you — it was like he had hit you with a tranquilizer dart and frozen you in time and space. He didn't have to see your face to know you were freaking out on the inside, but there was something about your silence that only enticed him further, making him want to push you further, to see how far he can take this before you crack.

He took another step, now standing directly behind you, so close he could smell the faint scent of your perfume, the alcohol on your breath. He wanted to reach out and touch you, to run his fingers down your spine, to feel the goosebumps that rose on your skin. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, the way you trembled in fear and anticipation.

But he did none of those things, instead he spoke again, his voice a low, playful whisper in your ear.

"You're like a statue, all still and silent… I almost thought you were a ghost, with midsummers frights and all.."

He leaned in closer, his body practically pressed against your back now. He could feel the heat of your skin through the flimsy fabric of your costume, the way your breath hitched in your throat. His heart was racing, his body thrumming with want and desire, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His voice was still a low, teasing whisper in your ear, his words deliberate and calculated to make you snap.

" But you don't seem scared, angel.. Why is that?"

Truth be told—you were scared. Not terrified, not frozen with fear, but that kind of scared that sets your nerves on edge and blurs the line between danger and desire. A pulse-thudding tightness in your chest, butterflies tangled with barbed wire, fluttering with panic and something dangerously close to anticipation. You didn’t know what this was—who he was—and that uncertainty clawed at the inside of your throat.

Your fingers twitched restlessly, reaching up to the strings of your cape, tugging on them like they might anchor you. The fabric shifted against your skin, the slight tension a reminder that you were still here. Still in control. Or trying to be.

The plastic fangs pressed into your lip, a weak distraction against the way your breath hitched in your throat. You swallowed. Hard. Tried to summon that sharp-edged sarcasm you always defaulted to with men. That armor of yours. But it didn’t come so easily this time. Not when his silence wrapped around you like a noose.

"Should I be scared?"

The question slipped out before you could stop it, quiet and cracked at the edges. You hated how breathless it sounded—how small. It was a whisper drenched in uncertainty, and once it was out there, suspended between you and the mask, it felt like a line you couldn’t uncross.

He felt a thrill run through him at the sound of your voice, the way your words trembled and crackled like static between you. He wanted to laugh at your question, to mock your fear and vulnerability. He wanted to make you scream, but the way you sounded, so small and fragile, stirred something in him, something deep and primal. He stepped even closer, his chest pressing against your back, the soft press of your bodies creating a dangerous friction. He was so, so close, so close to touching you.

But he didn't.

"You tell me, angel."

His breath was hot on your neck, so close that you could feel it caressing your skin. His body was pressed against yours, the heat of him seeping into your own, burning and intense, like a fire in a cold night. He was so close, so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his body, the strength that he held in his arms. He was like a wolf stalking its prey, and you had the distinct impression that you were the prey in this scenario.

"Do you want me to be the big, bad wolf, angel?"

You wanted to turn around—God, you ached to. Rip the mask off his face, expose him, unmask whatever sick game he thought he was playing. Maybe confirm the name already screaming in the back of your mind. But you didn’t. You stayed rooted, the tension in your body wound tight like a tripwire, vibrating with adrenaline and anger and something far too close to want.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, trapping whatever biting remark was clawing up your throat. Mock him for the cliché, call him out for the corny predator act—but nothing left your mouth except the sharp pull of your breath. Shallow. Unsteady. Like your body wasn’t sure if it should fight or fold.

You should’ve shoved past him. Walked right out of this room, back into the noise and the safety of the party. Down another shot, laugh with your friends, hook up with some other loser just to spite him—whoever he was. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. It was like your body wasn’t listening to your brain anymore, locked in place by the weight of his presence crowding behind you. Close enough to make the air thinner. Close enough that every shallow breath felt scraped from your lungs.

The big bad wolf.

What a fucking joke.

You might’ve laughed—sharp and bitter—if your pulse wasn’t hammering so violently against your ribs, if your knees didn’t feel so untrustworthy beneath you. Instead, your gaze stayed trained on your boots, waiting for your vision to sharpen. Waiting for your body to calm enough to speak without shaking.

He could feel the tension in you, the way it coiled beneath the surface like a viper ready to strike. He could feel the way your body trembled, the way your chest rose and fell in ragged, uneven breaths. He was driving you mad, and the thought sent a rush of satisfaction through him. He wanted to break you, to make you snap and give in to the desire that crackled in the air between you.

He leaned in closer still, his body flush against yours, his mouth hovering just over your ear like a ghost.

"You already know me so well, angel."

His words were a low, sultry whisper against your skin, a subtle reminder of what you both didn’t dare to acknowledge. He could feel the heat of your body pressed against his, the way your breath hitched at his proximity. He was testing you, seeing how far he could push you before you finally snapped.

"The big bad wolf isn’t such a horrible guy, is he?" he continued, his voice low and rough, the words brushing against your ear like a touch.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between you even further. His chest was pressed against your back now, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, the heat of his body seeping into yours. His arm brushed against your waist as he leaned in even closer, his mouth hovering above your neck with an aching closeness even with the mask in the way.

His voice was a hot, ragged whisper, a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

"He’s not so scary, is he, angel…?"

The silence stretched—thick, suffocating—the kind that clawed at your throat and gnawed at your nerves. It wasn’t empty, not really. It was loaded. Heavy with all the things you didn’t dare say. With all the things he wasn’t saying either. And that made it worse. So much worse.

His words echoed in your head, corny on the surface, but laced with something far sharper beneath. Something cutting. Intentional. The kind of sharpness that sank its teeth in slow and deep, not enough to draw blood yet, but enough to let you know he could if he wanted to.

And if this was Rafe…

God, of course it would be him. Nobody else in this entire house would play a game this fucked up and have it feel like foreplay.

You could feel the weight of it — of him — pressing down on you without a single touch. Without proof. The deliberate way he picked his words like knives just to watch them sink into soft spots you didn’t even know you left exposed.

It rattled you. Scrambled your brain worse than any line of coke or bottom-shelf liquor ever could.

But you didn’t let yourself linger in the unease too long. Didn’t give yourself the luxury of second-guessing the words that slipped past your lips like instinct. Like survival.

"You're insane. Truly psychopathic," you mumbled, voice low, roughened by vodka and spite, the words cracking through the tension like dry leaves beneath your boots.

You didn’t turn around. Didn’t flinch. Your stubborn gaze stayed pinned ahead, fixed on the night sky spilling out beyond the balcony — the only thing right now that felt remotely safe to look at.

The worst part?

You weren’t even sure if you were insulting him... or just telling the truth.

He stilled, the words cutting through the air like a blade. He felt a strange mix of anger and amusement well up in his chest at your accusation, your voice so steady and strong despite the tension between you. He wanted to laugh, to mock your words, to take you in his arms and shake you for being so goddamn blind, but he stayed still, his body pressed against your back like a statue, the silence between you thick and heavy like smoke.

He was silent for a moment, the seconds ticking by like hours before speaking

"I could say the same about you, little one." He chuckled unable to hold it back anymore, a low, bitter sound that mirrored the sting in your words.

A psychopath…

That wasn’t new to him. That wasn’t… shocking, or even untrue. But hearing the words fall from your lips, so casually, so truthfully — god, he wanted to laugh, if not for the way it stung.

He wanted to laugh, to mock you at your honesty, your brutal, biting honesty. He wanted to make some flippant comment that would make you flinch.

But he didn’t. Because you were being a hypocrite. And if there was one thing that he hated more than his father's tendency to downplay things, it was hypocrisy.

And he had a special way of dealing with hypocritical women.

He let the silence between you stretch then, the silence broken only by the sound of your unsteady breaths. He could see the way your body tensed, the way you refused to turn and look at him, and he felt a flicker of anger and irritation well up within him.

"You think I’m bad, sweet girl. But you’re just as twisted as I am," he said, his voice low and filled with a dangerous undertones. "Don’t pretend that you’re above me. You’re just as guilty as I am."

If there’d been even a shred of doubt left clinging to you, the last trace of uncertainty about who was hiding behind that mask, it evaporated the second he spoke again. Whispered low. Measured. Deliberately soft enough to sting. Aimed to rile you up, pull a reaction from you like strings on a marionette.

Classic Rafe Cameron.

Only two people on this island could dig their hands beneath your skin and twist enough to force your temper to the surface, and JJ sure as hell wasn’t lurking in a dark room wearing a cheap Halloween mask.

You knew Rafe. Not in the way that mattered to most people — not the soft knowing. Not the favorite-color or coffee-order kind of knowing. No. You knew the ugly parts. The sharp edges. You knew him the way predators knew each other.

He'd spent years learning how to press your bruises just right — not enough to break, just enough to make you bleed frustration.

And anger... anger had always been your saving grace. It didn’t ask questions. It didn’t need permission. It was sharp, primal. Your first instinct, your only armor when everything else got stripped away.

"Why don't you take the fucking mask off, huh?" The words shot out of you like a loaded gun, sharp, biting, dripping in venom.

You moved without thinking — spinning around, shoving him back hard enough to reclaim the space between you. To stake your ground.

"What now? The mask didn’t work so you’re trying guilt? That your new angle — guilt-tripping me into your bed again?"

You didn’t wait for an answer. Didn't need one.

Your eyes dragged over the cheap plastic stretched into its permanent hollow scream — unbothered, unimpressed — like you could burn right through it with the sheer force of your glare.

Like if you stared hard enough, the whole façade would melt away.

He stumbled back at the force of your shove, the back of his legs bumping against the bed and sending him stumbling down onto the mattress, his eyes going wide with shock at your unexpected outburst. He could feel the anger thrumming beneath his skin, the way his hands clenched into fists, but he kept a lid on it, forced himself to remain still and keep his voice low, even as his heart hammered in his chest.

"Little one, you know I don't have to try at all to get you into any bed, much less mine…"

He pushed himself up to a seated position on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on your face, taking in the fierce expression and the glare that could curdle milk. He knew that look, that spark in your eye that warned him of a fiery fight if he said the wrong thing. But the sight of you, so beautiful and strong, standing there like an avenging angel, made his chest ache with a twisted mix of desire and something else. Something so much deeper.

The words fell from his lips without thought or filter in response to your challenge.

"Take it off."

Your glare didn’t waver. Not even as you stalked forward, the silence between you thick enough to choke on — split only by the muffled pulse of the party downstairs and the sharp click of your heels against his floor.

His floor. His fucking room.

And even with you standing over him, even with the height advantage — the way he lounged there, sprawled out lazy on his bed like this was routine, like you belonged exactly where you stood — it was all a reminder.

This was his ground.

These were his sheets you’d slept in last night.

And he knew it. He fucking knew it — that gnawing guilt hollowing out your ribs. Whether it was guilt over sleeping with him at all… or guilt over how soft it had turned — how easy you’d let him slip beneath your armor — that was anyone’s guess.

But he was playing it. Playing you.

Your hand shot out before you could stop yourself — trembling fingers curling into the hood of the mask like it burned to touch — ripping it off with a harsh tug and tossing it to the mattress beside him.

And there he was. Rafe.

Messy hair mussed from the mask, falling low over those ice-glint eyes — pale enough to look silver in the spill of moonlight behind you. Damp strands clung to his forehead, proof he’d been sitting in that stupid mask all night waiting for you. Setting the scene. Staging the hunt.

And still — still — he smirked.

That slow, smug curve of his mouth — equal parts infuriating and filthy — like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Like he knew you were seconds away from either slapping him… or crawling into his lap.

He watched as you ripped the mask off his face, his heart racing in his chest at the cold burn in your eyes as you hurled it away from you like it was poison. He could feel the heat radiating off of you as you stood over him, the anger and frustration rolling off you in waves that he could feel against his skin.

He let his eyes roam over your body, taking in the way your costume hugged your curves, the way you held yourself like a weapon ready to fire, and he felt his own heart rate speed up.

"Angry..."

He leaned back on his hands, his eyes still fixed on your face as you stood there, a tornado about to tear through the room. He knew the words would only make you angrier, but he couldn’t help himself, his smirk growing wider as the familiar rush of danger and excitement ran through him.

"Is this some kind of fantasy of yours, sweetheart? You want to hit me, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. You want to hurt me just so you don’t have to feel so damn guilty about what we’ve done."

You scoffed, his words making your expression harden even more, the anger simmering beneath the surface suffocating you in a way that almost made you cry. Your brain couldn't keep up, it was flitting between anger, hurt and lust. Between hurting him and burying your feelings in filthy sex.

And for a split second, you considered it. Just giving in. Letting the heat simmering beneath your skin boil over into something reckless and raw. But you didn’t. Because all you had left — in the hollow space between vodka and disappointment — was the anger. And he knew it. He wanted it. That look in his eyes wasn’t curiosity — it was expectation. He was waiting for the snap.

"Are you having fun?" you spat, voice sharp, like a blade unsheathed. "Coke’s not cutting it anymore, so now you get off on toying with me? Mocking me?"

The venom laced through your words, but the conviction in them cracked the second you spat them out. He was too condescending for someone who just spent the night pretending to be your own personal ghost. And maybe you were blowing this out of proportion. Maybe it wasn’t that serious.

But what was this thing with Rafe, if not a wildfire? A collision of sharp edges and clenched jaws, of bruised egos and heat that scorched every time you got too close. Anger had always been your safety net — your compass — and now it tangled with lust like barbed wire. Because if you weren’t fighting him, you’d be fucking him. And sometimes, there was no difference. You stood your ground, digging your nails into your palms to calm down the brewing anger in your chest as he lounged on the bed all loose limbs and confidence, hands propped behind him lazily.

He bit back a smirk at the sound of your anger, the way it lit up your eyes and set your body taut like a bowstring. He could almost feel your anger, like a tangible thing between you, and it stoked the fire within him, made him want to fan the flames and see how high they could burn.

"Oh, I’m having the time of my life right now, baby." he drawled, his eyes roaming over your body again, taking in the way you held yourself.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position on the bed, his legs spread wide, and his eyes fixed on you like a predator locking onto prey. He knew he was playing with fire, but the way your anger burned only made him want to push you further, to see just how far he could go before you snapped.

"And for the record, I wasn't mocking you. I was just curious if guilt-tripping you would work."

He stood up from the bed, closing the distance between you in two long strides, his body towering over yours now, his eyes locked on your face. The anger in your expression made him want to pin you to the wall, just to see what would happen. He could picture it in his head — your wrists in his hands, your body pressed up against his, the heat between you so intense that it would rival the sun itself.

"It seems it does. You don't do guilty very well, do you, angel?"

Guilt was your most familiar enemy — patient, parasitic, gnawing from the inside out. It coiled tighter each time you saw the boy you loved play boyfriend to the girl who never had to try to be loved in return. Kiara was all bright flame and brave edges, easy to adore. You? You burned like rubber, chemical and toxic, the kind of fire that left people coughing in the dark.

And Rafe — sick bastard that he was — loved it. He thrived on being second choice, just because he got to be the one who tipped the scale. JJ might’ve filled the cup, pushed you close to overflowing. But Rafe? He made it spill. He was the final drop. The tipping point. The fucking landslide.

Your mouth twisted into something sour at the look in his eyes — that smug satisfaction of someone who knows he’s gotten under your skin and plans to stay there and the cruelty of a thousand men. His gaze dragged shamelessly down your frame, lingering on the black bikini top like he was cataloging every inch for later.

"You should just stick to coke," you snapped, venom curling around the words like smoke. "You’re really fucking good at that, huh?"

Your nails bit into your palms, hard enough to ground you. To keep the scream in your throat and the tears in your eyes at bay. Because of all the people on this island, he was the last person who should see you unravel. "Besides, the fact that i'm feelin guilty over sleeping with you is a reflection of your own awful personality. Not to mention, i'm using you."

His heart pounded in his chest at your words, the anger in your eyes both arousing and infuriating him in equal measure. He could see the way your palms were clenching, the way your eyes were brimming with tears that you refused to let fall. "Oh, trust me, I'm excellent at doing coke." he said with a smirk, his eyes running over your body again, lingering on your exposed skin.

"As you well know." He took a step closer, closing the distance between you even more. He reached out a hand, his fingers tracing the line of your arm, the touch like a brand against your skin, hot and electric. He could see the anger and hurt in your eyes, but it only made him want to push you further.

"You think I don't know that you're using me?" He chuckled, his voice low and dangerous.

"I know it. I know that I'm just your little dirty secret, your guilty pleasure. And guess what, baby? I don't care. You can use me all you want, use me up until there's nothing left."

He took another step forward, his chest nearly touching yours as he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. His hand moved down from your arm to your hip, his fingers wrapping around the soft skin there, holding you possessively in place.

"We're just two people who use each other to escape the shitty reality of our lives. You use me to forget about the fact that the guy you truly want is in love with someone else, and I use you to get some much-needed relief from my dad."

He smirked again, his thumb tracing circles against your skin, the simple gesture sending sparks through him. He stepped closer again, his body pressing against yours now, the heat between you palpable.

"You think I care that you're using me? I don't give a damn. I know the truth. I know you'll use me and throw me away when you're done, just like everyone else. But what you don't get is that I'll let you. I'll let you use me as much as you want, because the high I get from you is better than any coke."

You stepped back, recoiling as both his words and touch registered, the reaction immediate—even if a flicker of guilt tugged somewhere deep beneath your bitterness. Your emotions were chaotic, erratic, colliding into each other with no room to settle, and you could feel the dynamic shift on its axis again. That familiar heat of anger was cooling fast, melting into something heavier, something tighter in your chest that felt dangerously close to real. Intimate in a way nothing with Rafe Cameron had any right to be. It suffocated you. Just like your earlier unease had morphed into anger, that anger now dulled into something that felt too much like longing, or worse—hurt. And if there was one thing you did better than being irrationally angry, it was being a bitch.

You stepped forward without hesitation, snatching the discarded ghostface mask off the bed and tossing it at him with mockery in the curve of your lips. He caught it without flinching, like he was expecting it, like it was part of the performance. Your gaze stayed sharp even as something inside you cracked. “You’re pathetic, seriously,” you said, your tone biting, voice laced with venom to drown out the ache webbing over your heart. “You need to grow a backbone, Rafe.”

He caught the mask in his hands, and for a moment, a hint of shock and amusement flickered across his face. He raised an eyebrow at your tone, the sharpness of your voice like a slap across the face, and his smirk widened.

"Oh, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm and condescension. "I have a backbone. But you make me weak in the knees."

He stepped forward again, the mask still in his hand, his eyes locked on yours. He could see the hurt and the anger swirling together in a dangerous cocktail in your eyes, and it only made him want to push you further. He took another step, closing the distance between you again, his body now towering over yours.

"You know what you are, girl?" he asked, his voice low and quiet, laced with a challenge.

He leaned in again, his mouth only an inch from your ear now. He reached up, his free hand taking a strand of hair between his fingers, twirling it around as he spoke again.

"You're a damn wildfire. All heat, all recklessness, and all destruction. You burn everything in your path, and I'm crazy enough to stand right in the fire and let you burn me alive. You think you're just using me? Well, sweetheart, it works both ways. Because while you're using me to forget about the one you really want, I'm using you to feel alive."

You scoffed, a sharp, bitter sound that held no trace of humor. Of course a Kook like him would say something like that—so out of touch, so drunk on his own self-loathing he’d twist anything into a love song. That was his fixation, wasn’t it? The novelty of someone like you. You weren’t one of the manicured country club girls he paraded around with. You were rough around the edges, the cliché he couldn’t resist—the “girl with issues from the wrong side of the island.” The walking contradiction he could use to feel grounded. You stepped back again, shaking your head in that slow, exaggerated way—mock disappointment, like a parent tired of a misbehaving child. A gesture he’d probably seen a hundred times growing up, but this time it hit deeper, because it was coming from you. And the words that followed? They burned. A harsh reminder of how roughly he tampered over his own ego for the person he once despised. For the person he never thought he'd grow attracted to.

“What do you know about feeling alive, Rafe?” you spat, each syllable dipped in acid. “Your idea of it, is screwing around with trailer park trash to distract yourself from your sad, pathetic excuse for a life?” You could see the faint flicker behind his eyes, but you didn’t stop. Didn’t waver. “You let me use you just so you could pretend you're above me. That it?” The smile that curled at your lips was razor-sharp, soulless, your eyes raking over him with the same contempt he once used on you.

He flinched, his jaw clenching at your words. They were like daggers, piercing through his usual facade and striking right at his deepest insecurities and fears. He was supposed to be the one in control, the one in charge, not you. And yet here he was, his heart racing and his palms sweating as you stood there, looking like a goddess of vengeance and rage, spitting words at him that hit too close to home.

He took a step back, his face a mask of anger and hurt, but his voice was sharp and cold as ice.

"At least I have a life, sweetheart. All you have is a shitty, pathetic existence in that trailer park you call home," he retorted, his voice rising with anger.

"And as for using you to feel alive, that's better than being a sad, insecure little girl who doesn't think she's good enough for anyone." His fingers curled into fists, his body tensing as he tried to hold back the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing through him. But his mask was slipping, and he felt powerless to stop it.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you fold under the weight of his words—because they only proved your point. And being right, even if it gutted you, always tasted better than regret. “There it is!” you snapped, gesturing vaguely at him with the kind of disdain that dripped from every pore. “That’s the thing with men like you. You go through all this effort—tailing me like some lost mutt, hiding behind a mask, feeding me those sweet, fake-ass lines about how I make you feel alive—just so you can flip it the second I bite back.” Your voice rose, cracking at the edges with the strain of trying not to cry or scream. “Assholes like you play pretend, act soft just long enough for someone like me to lower my guard—so you can strike. You don’t care about being used, Rafe. You care about being the one to pull the strings. That’s not romantic. That’s sociopathic.” The words spilled fast, jagged and ruthless, like glass shattering between the two of you, your breathing harsh in the thick silence that followed.

He didn't know if the hurt or the anger was stronger in his chest right now, a whirlwind of chaotic emotions tearing him apart from the inside. He could feel the walls he'd spent years building up, the careful facade he'd maintained for so long, starting to tremble and crack under your words. You were like a wrecking ball, tearing through his defenses with a skill and precision that was almost scary.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he stepped towards you again, closing the distance between you in a stride. His voice was dangerously low when he spoke again.

"Don't you dare talk to me about being a goddamn sociopath," he snapped, his voice a guttural growl that sent a chill down your spine. He was close again, so close that you could smell the faint traces of cologne on his skin, the familiar scent of cigarettes on his breath. His eyes bored into yours, rage and a raw, aching vulnerability mixing together in a intoxicating cocktail.

"You act like you're some kind of victim, like I'm the villain and you're the innocent angel. when you're the one using me. You come to my house, to my bedroom... and you use me to forget about your stupid childish crush on a guy who doesn't give two cents about anything other than sleeping with you. Because let's face it angel, at the end of the day JJ is JJ before he is your childhood best friend."

With every word that fell from his lips, he could feel a weight being lifted from his chest, a bitter truth clawing its way to the surface, clawing its way past the years of pretense and denial. In that moment, he wasn't the carefree, charismatic golden boy he'd always been, and you weren't the sweet, troubled girl with the troubled past. You were both just two people standing on the threshold of something real and raw and terrifying, and it was finally starting to bleed through the cracks in their armor.

Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding under the weight of everything you didn’t want to admit, the sting of your nails biting into your palms no longer grounding but suffocating. His words hit too close, too raw, like he’d found the crack and dug right into it without hesitation. And maybe you should’ve shut up, maybe this whole thing should’ve stopped before it spiraled into truths that neither of you had any right to speak aloud. Because the truth was—he wasn’t wrong. JJ had been different lately, looking at you like you were a girl instead of just his oldest friend, acting like even his relationship couldn’t tether him from you completely.

But you’d rather bleed than give Rafe the satisfaction of knowing he’d struck a nerve. “And how would you know he’s just looking to score, huh?” you snapped, venom curling in your voice as your eyes locked on his. “Or is that just you projecting your own bitter-ass reality? You wouldn’t know what a genuine connection looked like if it punched you in the face. Let’s face it, Rafe—you’ve never had a childhood best friend. You’ve never had anyone.” The words hit hard, probably too hard, but at this point guilt had no place inside you—not for someone like him.

He was frozen on the spot, your words a punch to the gut that sent pain searing through him like a hot poker. It wasn't fair, he thought. You were right—he'd never had a childhood best friend. It was something he'd craved throughout his entire childhood, but it was also something that seemed permanently out of reach.

He struggled to find the right words to respond, his jaw clenching as he fought back a wave of emotions. The anger and hurt were still there, but they were mixed with something else, something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Regret?

He took a step back, his eyes falling from your face to the floor, his mind and heart wrestling with the mess of emotions swirling inside him. This wasn't how it was supposed to go—he was the one in control. He was the one who was supposed to be the strong one, the one who didn't get attached. And yet here he was, feeling like he was about to bleed out from the sharp dagger of your words.

He swallowed, his voice low and rough when he spoke again, the anger giving way to something else, something that sounded almost like vulnerability.

"Maybe you're right," he said, his voice hoarse and thick with feeling. "Maybe I've never had a childhood best friend. Maybe I don't know what it's like to have a genuine connection with someone. But I do know what it's like to feel alive, angel. And you make me feel more alive than anything else in this world."

He took a step closer again, his eyes burning into yours as he reached out a hand, his palm resting gently against your cheek. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the anger that had laced their words mere moments before.

All your life you had a script written in your mind. From the moment you became aware of the way the island was divided into two classes, two social statuses, you had a script in your mind on how you were supposed to act towards kooks. All bite and no comfort. No soft touches or vulnerable moments, because those people liked to exploit those things like they’d treat people at freakshows. For their own entertainment. Because people who had everything financially were born stripped of the entertainment that life provided.

Rafe was the same, he was a rich asshole, the older brother of one of your best friends, and you always found yourself rehearsing the comebacks you were gonna give him. The snarky replies, the eye rolls, the smirks sharp enough to draw blood. It was simple—like a play, like two characters designed to push each other's buttons and nothing more. Not to sleep together. Not to get messy. Not to end up here, looking at each other like you were rewriting every line of the script and didn’t know how to play the new scene.

When his hand touched your cheek and the anger in his eyes dimmed into something heartbreakingly bare, you felt the shift in your chest like a fault line cracking open. He looked at you like you’d taken something from him—broken it, ruined it—and still he wasn’t letting go. And even though you were fighting the guilt, trying to wrap yourself in bitterness like armor, you could feel the pieces slipping. He wasn’t throwing words back anymore. He wasn’t playing the same game. And even if you hated him, even if you should’ve, you saw yourself in the way he held his ground—too stubborn, too angry, too soft beneath the surface to admit either of you were bleeding. You didn’t say 'I'm sorry,' you didn’t have in you to. Not yet. The silence stretched between you, fragile and full of everything neither of you had the guts to say, and still… you stayed.

He could feel the weight of your gaze on him, the silence like a thick fog that enveloped them both. But he couldn't look away, couldn't escape the intensity in your eyes, the way they held him in place and refused to let go.

The anger had faded, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to see. He wasn't used to feeling exposed, but in that moment, he didn't care.

He ran his thumb gently over your cheek, the gesture aching with a tenderness that was almost foreign to him.

His heart felt battered and bruised—a raw, aching thing that throbbed in his chest with every beat. He was supposed to be the one in control. He was supposed to be the one who never let himself bleed, but here he was, feeling like he was slowly hemorrhaging all over your doorstep. He could see the surprise and discomfort in your eyes, the way your body tensed under the weight of this new dynamic. He also wanted to apologize, but the words stuck in his throat like a stubborn knot, the familiar anger replaced by something more vulnerable.

He continued to caress your cheek, his touch so gentle and so tender that it was almost painful. He could feel the walls crumbling between you, the pretense and the defenses dropping away to reveal the raw, messy underbelly of their relationship. "I don't know what to say," he admitted, his voice low and rough again. He was never good at expressing himself, at navigating the messy terrain of emotions. But right now, he had to try, because he couldn't let this moment—this fragile, aching, beautiful moment—slip away.

"I don't know how to connect," he said, the words coming out in a quiet murmur, so different from his usual bold and carefree demeanor. He took a breath and exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing a path from your cheek to the line of your jaw, his touch lingering on your skin like a silent plea. "I don't understand what connection feels like. All I've ever known is anger and emptiness and selfishness. I don't know how to let go of all that and just feel something real." His eyes locked on yours, the blue of them deepening with intensity.

God, please don't say that, your mind kept screaming. You were panicking, like the vodka you drank downstairs was threatening to come out again and you felt like the biggest asshole on the island. For roping him into this, for betraying your friends and for being just so bitter all the time. So angry. For being in love with your best friend's boyfriend. And Rafe... Rafe was a mistake, not just because he was supposed to be forbidden, but because for the first time in your life you saw him as human. Just a guy, someone whose emotions you didn't take in account when you spoke and now you realized for the countless time that actions had consequences.

They always did. There was no deed left unpunished and no man standing in the face of regret and intimacy.

You shrugged, the gesture too casual for the situation at hand, suddenly feeling stupid standing in front of him, ridiculing him in a stupid and slutty vampire costume. "No i-.." you started but your words failed you, "I shouldn't have said that." you stated, the sentence disguising the apology as good as you could while drunk and with your emotions all over the place "It wasn't my place to talk about connections and things genuine."

He watched as you stumbled over your words, as your confidence cracked and crumbled under the weight of guilt and shame. His fingers gently continued to trace your jawline, his touch a lifeline between them, an anchor he wouldn't let go. He raised an eyebrow, the familiar hint of arrogance returning in his voice, though softened by the vulnerability still shining in his eyes.

"Oh I'm sorry, is my pain inconvenient now, angel? You get to throw out a truckload of insults and I just have to stand here and take it?"

His words were sharp, but there was no heat behind them—just a dry humor that masked the hurt he still felt from your previous words. He wasn't angry, not really. He was just trying to hold on to the familiar banter, the familiar power dynamic that had somehow begun to shift.

"You don't get to play the good guy after you practically stabbed me in the heart," he added, his hand moving from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers lacing through your hair almost possessively.

The attempt at keeping the familiar dynamic between the two of you alive was welcome, even if his words were meant to make you feel even more ashamed. You ran your tongue over your teeth, eyes flickering over his face as you chuckled dryly, an awkward and almost painful sound with how forced it was. "I think you'll live." you stated quietly, your small smile softening as you tried to hold onto the sarcasm and playfulness.

He chuckled, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth despite the lingering hurt in his eyes. There you were, still stubborn and defiant, still refusing to back down, even as you tried to soften the blow.

"You're a real ray of sunshine, you know that?" he said with a hint of dryness, his fingers continuing to play with your hair. He didn't want to admit it, but your stubbornness was endearing, even in the middle of all this messy emotional chaos.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you enjoyed hurting me," he added, the smirk deepening a little more. He was trying to keep everything lighthearted, to make it less real and less intense, even as his fingers continued to tangle in your hair, the action almost unconscious now, like a need to feel connected to you. "You know I'm a sensitive soul."

You threw your head back slightly, as you let out a snort of laughter, the sound more awkward than the last, trying to focus on the physical, of the feeling of his hand buried in your hair and not the emotional chaos unfolding between the two of you. "I thought you enjoyed getting hurt, y'know... Since you're so kinky and all.."

His smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he chuckled at your response. He'd missed this—the back and forth banter, the way you could make him laugh even in the middle of an argument.

"You would know," he retorted, his voice dripping with a mock hurt. "Seeing as you're the one who gets to experience my kinks firsthand." His fingers tightened in your hair, pulling your head just a little bit closer to his, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur.

His eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and lust as he looked at you, his thumb traced a path along your bottom lip, pausing for a moment to feel the fullness of it, the softness against his skin.

"Besides," he said, lowering his voice even further, the sound almost like a whisper in the quiet room. "You seem just as into it as I am, angel. Maybe even more so."

Your eyes narrowed playfully, feeling as the anger and other bitter emotions started to make room for lust again, even if you would've like just a little more time to pluck up the courage and maybe apologize for your words. "Are you talking about the ghostface mask?" you asked quietly, eyes roaming over his face as if dissecting him, gaze dropping to his lips momentarily.

He could feel the shift in the air, the anger and bitterness slowly fading, replaced by the familiar heat and intensity that always flared up between you. He let out a low, amused chuckle, his fingers still playing with your hair, pulling you just a little closer.

"Yeah, the ghostface mask," he said, his voice dropping to a low, almost seductive murmur. "And I have a few ideas that involves it."

He could already feel his own body responding to the thought, his heart rate increasing slightly as he thought of all the possibilities that could come with your little mask kink. He let out a low, low chuckle, his eyes wandering over your figure, his thumb still tracing your bottom lip, more slowly this time.

"You wanna try out some of those ideas, angel?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of challenge, testing the waters to see how far you were willing to go.

Your eyes stayed narrowed, not from anger anymore, but as if scanning his expression for any trace of insincerity, anything to hang onto so you wouldn't drown in the vulnerability clinging to your ribs. You were buying yourself time—enough time to convince your body to settle, to let the lust simmer instead of boil, to pick one emotion and stick to it. But your body never listened. Not to logic, not when he was looking at you like that. Your lips parted slightly at the touch of his thumb dragging slowly across your bottom lip, the contact simple but magnetic, heavy with intention. The room pulsed with anticipation, thick and slow, like the air had to be sliced through just to speak.

"Is that why you wore it tonight?" you asked finally, voice softer than you meant it to be, the bite long gone. A small smile curled the corners of your mouth before you could stop it, part bemused and part breathless. Your brain was still struggling to catch up, whiplashing between bitterness and ache and want, but your body had already made the decision—you weren’t fighting it anymore. You were just… letting it hit. Because lust was easier than intimacy.

His eyes darkened with lust and satisfaction the moment he saw the slight change in your expression, the way your lips parted slightly and your voice softened slightly. He knew he had you, hook, line, and sinker. He could see the battle still raging in your eyes, the way you tried to hold onto reason even as the desire took over. But he was relentless, determined to draw out every drop of resistance and leave you breathless and desperate for more.

He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper.

"Yeah. I wore it for you."

His thumb continued to trace a slow path across your bottom lip, slowly driving you crazy. He could see the struggle in your eyes, the last remnants of resistance slowly slipping away, replaced by the heat and desperation that he knew was there, lurking beneath the surface. He wanted to make it worse, to stoke the flames of desire until you were a writhing, begging mess beneath him.

"Did you like it, angel?" he asked, his voice low and sultry, his eyes fixed on yours, watching for the slightest sign of surrender.

You chuckled, clinging to that remaining trace of sarcasm before inevitably giving in to the lust, so strong and consuming, raising one brow almost playfully "I liked it more when i didn't know it was you under the mask.." you murmured, keeping your eyes fixed in his despite wanting to let them roam over his face.

He smirked, amused by your attempt to hold onto your usual sassiness, even as your eyes betrayed you, revealing how close you were to giving in and letting him take control. He didn't believe your words for a second, but he played along, enjoying the little game you were both playing.

"Is that so?" he responded, lowering his voice to a low, gravelly murmur, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip before slowly tracing a path down your chin, down your neck and your collarbone. "Maybe I should wear it more often, then."

He continued to tease your collarbone, his touch lingering on your skin, igniting a path of fire down your chest. He leaned in a bit closer, his breath warm against your neck, his lips almost brushing against your ear., fingers toying with the strap of your bikini top as he spoke.

"But just imagine," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "All the things I could do to you while wearing that mask. All the ways I could make you scream without you even knowing it's me."

Your brows furrowed, lashes dipping as your arms curled lazily around his neck, your fingers grazing the nape of it like you weren’t already burning up inside. You chewed on your bottom lip, barely able to hold back the smile twitching at the corner of your mouth as his hands moved up with infuriating confidence, tugging at the knot of your flimsy cape until it loosened and fluttered to the floor like it didn’t matter. "Did you just make a Scream reference while dirty talking me?" you asked, the words half-laugh, half-moan—part amused, part embarrassingly turned on.

He chuckled, the sound a low and deep rumble in his chest, his hands continuing to work their magic on your costume, fingers tracing every curve and dip of your body, familiar and yet always new and exciting. He knew how to play you now, knew how to ignite the fire inside you, and he reveled in it.

"I did," he admitted, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper as his lips moved to your neck, tracing a path down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Can't a man make a good reference?"

His lips continued their journey down your body, leaving a trail of kisses and nips down your chest, fingers toying with the fabric of your top, teasing, barely touching, igniting a fire with just the faintest of touches. He let out a scoff, a hint of arrogance in his voice that only fueled the heat between the two of you.

"Besides," he added, his breath hot against your skin, lips just above the curve of your breast, teasing you on purpose. "Horror movies are my favorite…"

You hummed in acknowledgement, trying to keep your focus on the conversation rather than the way his mouth trailed hot, open kisses down your throat, his nose brushing the dip between your breasts where the bikini top barely covered. Your voice came out low, breathy from the way his teeth grazed your skin. "What's your favorite horror movie?" you asked, a soft laugh slipping out before you could stop it, realizing with a flicker of amusement that you'd also just quoted Scream.

He chuckled against your skin, his lips still working their way down your body, relishing the way you squirmed and writhed beneath him. He could feel your laughter, your attempt to keep a little distance, to not fully give in to the heat and the want coursing through your body. But it was futile, and he knew it.

"Halloween," he murmured, his fingertips tracing the edge of your bikini top, his breath hot against your skin. "The 1978 version, of course. The original." He lifted his head, eyeing you with a smirk.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, the faint smile still clinging to your lips as he raised his head from basically nosing at your boobs for the past minute or so. You never knew Rafe could be so good at referencing movies, much less act out the dialogue while trying to get you naked at a costume party, "Right.. i see what you're doing." you murmured, narrowing your eyes at him, "the one with the guy with the white mask who just sorta walks around and stalks the babysitters?"

He chuckled again, his eyes dark with mischief and desire, clearly enjoying your reaction. He loved teasing you and getting a rise out of you, especially when you were like this, with your body hot and eager beneath his hands and your mind struggling to keep up.

"That's the one," he confirmed with a smirk, leaning in close to murmur the next line against your skin. "I've always had a thing for the final girl."

His fingers continued to toy with the edge of your bikini top, fingertips tracing just under the fabric, teasing and testing your patience, his body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin against yours and his scent filling your senses. He knew he had you right where he wanted you, but he still couldn't resist playing the game, keeping you on edge.

"You think you'd survive a night with Michael Myers?" he asked, his voice low and sultry as he nipped at your skin, his teeth gently scraping over your collarbone, as if he hadn't asked you the most beside-the-point question.

You swallowed hard, fingers threading into the messy strands at the nape of his neck, grip tightening when his mouth moved from the top of your breasts back to your neck, switching between kisses and rougher grazes that made your breath hitch. A low, slightly disbelieving chuckle escaped you, your voice dropping to match the tension in the air. "Like... have sex with him?" you asked, the words shaky and taunting all at once, laced with heat and incredulity as you tilted your head back to give him more room.

He chuckled, the sound a deep and low rumble in his chest. His mouth continued its assault on your neck, leaving a path of fire in its wake. His hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, igniting a heat deep within your core that made it hard to think straight. Your question only served to make him smirk against your skin, his words hot against your ear as he nipped at the soft flesh.

"No," he murmured, his voice laced with humor and desire. "I'm talking about hiding from the world's most prolific serial killer."

"Why would i hide from him if i'm gonna sleep with him?" you asked, feigning cluelessness, letting a soft, lustful sigh when he found a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, flinching slightly.

"Because he's a psychopathic killer," he replied, his mouth still trailing kisses down your neck, his voice low and gravelly, the sound sending shivers down your body. He found the same spot again, his teeth sinking in gently, teasing the sensitive skin with a mix of pleasure and pain.

"And I'm sure you wouldn't look nearly as good with half your face hacked off." He raised his head to look into your eyes, a hint of dark humor in his gaze. "I'd kinda prefer keeping you all in one piece.."

Your eyes roamed over his face when he raised it again, the same face you'd spent most of your time insulting and rolling your eyes at, his hands sliding up your sides to knead your breast lazily while he talked about horror movie serial killers. Like you two weren't fighting less than fifteen minutes ago. "You're a psychopath.. i don't see you trying to hack my face off.." you whispered, smirking as you added "In fact you seem quite interested in other assets of mine at the moment.."

He chuckled, the sound low and deep in his chest, clearly enjoying the banter and the heat between the two of you. His eyes burned into yours, sharp and intense, his hands still working their magic on your body. He raised an eyebrow at your words, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"That's because I'm a psychopath with manners," he replied, his voice thick with both amusement and desire. "And your assets are far too important to disfigure." He squeezed your breast for emphasis, his eyes gleaming with a dark hunger.

He continued to toy with your body, his hands roaming over your curves, igniting sparks of need everywhere they touched. He leaned in close, his lips tracing a path down your neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Besides," he murmured, his voice rough and low, his breath hot against your skin. "I can think of much better things to do with those assets than tear them apart.." He punctuated his words with a sharp nip at your collarbone.

It felt like your knees were gonna give out, especially with the heeled boots you were wearing, his hand basically keeping you on your feet as his teeth and lips traced a path back down your chest towards the edge of your bikini top, his hands slipping underneath the flimsy fabric to knead the flesh of your breasts better, thumbs circling your nipple languidly. "Like what?" you asked, your focus on the conversation already slipping with ever brush of his thumb and kiss on your neck.

He could feel you shudder beneath his touch, your body coming alive under his hands and lips, your words a breathless whisper as you struggled to focus on the conversation.

He chuckled against your skin, his thumbs flicking over your hardening nipples, his hands teasing and caressing.

"Oh, I can think of a few things," he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly murmur. "All far more enjoyable than any serial killer could ever be…"

He chuckled, lowering his head to your chest, his tongue flicking out to tease a nipple, his mouth closing around the peak and taking it between his lips, sucking softly, your body arching towards his.

He looked up at you through his lashes, his eyes dark and burning with lust and desire, his hand roaming up and down your sides, his touch lingering on your sensitive skin. He wanted to devour you, to taste you, to make you lose yourself in him.

"Much, much more enjoyable…"

He continued to lavish attention on your chest, his mouth continuing its slow and deliberate assault on your sensitive skin, his hands roaming your body, setting every nerve on fire with their touch, the sensation only heightened by the cool metal of the rings he wore.

He could feel your breath hitch, your body responding to his every touch, every press of his lips, and the knowledge that he was driving you wild only served to fuel his own desires.

He pulled away from your chest, his eyes locked on yours, the heat between the two of you almost palpable.

He pulled you flush against him, his body pressed firmly against yours, every inch of him fitting perfectly against you like you were made for him. His hands roamed down your back, fingers trailing down your spine, and then lower, slipping under the hem of your bikini bottoms, his touch scorching against your skin. He leaned in to murmur against your ear, his voice thick with desire.

"I want to make a bet," he whispered, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

He paused for a moment, his hands still roaming over your body, igniting a heat deep within your core. His words came out in a low, gravelly murmur, his hands cupping your ass, pulling you closer against him, his body pressed flush against yours. He could feel the way you trembled under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat, and the realization that he could make you feel this way only served to fuel his desire even further.

"If I can get you to come before the song downstairs changes, you let me do coke off your tits…"

Your pleasure ridden expression morphed into aroused confusion as he spoke, brows furrowing as you panted slowly, watching him for any hint of humor before you spoke "Let you do coke off my tits?"

He smirked at your reaction, the sight of your flushed, breathless, and slightly bewildered expression only serving to make him more confident in his bet. He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands still exploring your body, his touch setting your skin on fire.

"Mhmm," he confirmed, his voice dropping to a low murmur, his lips hovering close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me do a line of coke off your gorgeous tits.."

Your gaze flicked to his lips as he leaned in closer, then drifted downward to your bikini top—already nudged up by his wandering hands—before you reached down and adjusted it back in place with a slow, calculated motion. You tried to focus on the music thumping faintly through the floorboards, through the door, over the pounding of your own heartbeat, your initial confusion solidifying into a sharper, more deliberate edge. Were you really about to let him make you cum before the next song downstairs ended just so he could snort a line of coke off your tits? Maybe. Probably. You stepped away, spine straightening as you moved to sit on the edge of his bed, arms behind you and legs parting just enough to be a silent dare. "Get on with it then.." you said, one brow arching, your voice smooth but firm. "Get on your knees."

He couldn't help but let out a low, guttural moan at the sight of you sitting on the edge of his bed, your legs slightly apart, your voice confident and firm. He knelt down between your legs, his hands roaming up your thighs, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. He looked up at you from under his lashes, hands splaying over your thighs as he sank to his knees, like he was answering a prayer you didn’t even know you’d made..

"Yes ma'am," he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly. "You don't need to tell me twice.."

He reached up and ran his hands up the smooth expanse of your thighs, pushing your skirt up a little higher as he did so, until it had bunched up at your waist. He could see the way your eyes darkened with desire, the way you leaned back on your hands as he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your skin. His hands were firm and strong on your thighs, keeping them spread, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on the inside of your legs, just inches away from your aching core.

"You look so damn good, angel.." he murmured, his voice thick with want.

You looked down at him, knelt between your thighs and staring up with something that almost looked like submission—something you’d never seen on Rafe’s face before. His hands slid up slowly, hooking under the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down with a kind of desperate precision, discarding them on the floor beside him like he couldn’t stand the barrier another second. The song downstairs ended, the abrupt pause in rhythm heightening the tension in the room. You dug the heel of your boot gently into his thigh, not enough to hurt, just enough to pull his attention back to your face as your breathing struggled to regulate itself.

"Song starts now," you murmured, voice low but commanding, leaning back on one hand as the other reached up to sweep the messy strands of hair from his eyes. "I reckon you’ve got about five minutes, tops." Your lips curved into a faint smirk as your gaze held his, a spark of challenge buried beneath the breathy tease. "You get me to finish before it ends..." you paused, letting your fingers trail briefly down the side of his face, "and you get to do as many lines of coke off my tits as you want."

Rafe looked up at you like you’d just offered him a deal with the devil, and he was more than happy to sign away his soul. His lips curved into that crooked, half-wicked grin—the one that always meant trouble, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he looked that pretty between your thighs. “Five minutes?” he muttered, breath ghosting over your skin as his hands squeezed at your thighs possessively, almost as if to ground himself, “Baby, I won’t need three.”

He didn't wait for a reaction. His mouth found you like a man starved, the first pass of his tongue almost reverent before his grip tightened and he buried himself in you, dragging a sharp gasp from your throat. The bass of the next song vibrated through the floor, pulsing like a countdown, and your head dropped back with a low moan as your hand tangled in his hair, the other still braced behind you. His pace was anything but slow—messy, greedy, and determined, like he had something to prove. Which he did. You knew it. He knew it. And that just made everything worse—better. You couldn’t decide.

His hands roamed over your thighs, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to hold you down, to keep you still, like you were a thing he could possess. And you were. Right now, at least. You were his, and by god, he was going to make sure you remembered that, and not just from that night.. He knew all the right places to touch, to press, to bite, to suck. His name was a broken gasp on your lips as you arched against his mouth, and he took it like a challenge, like a promise, like a fucking oath. The song still thrummed through the floorboards in the back of your mind, the rhythm lost in the haze of sensation, his tongue working in perfect sync with the music like this was his most favorite song on the planet. Like he'd give anything to have you like this again. He'd do anything for this. For you. He'd do anything to make you scream for him. He didn't need the cocaine. You, you were the high, and he was chasing it like a man on the brink of addiction, his world narrowed to only the things he could feel, taste, hear:

"Only you.." he breathed, sounding more like it was a plea than anything else, his words rumbling against your skin as he murmured it like a mantra. He didn’t stop to look up, didn’t even lift his head. He was a man on a mission now. And he was on a goddamn mission to get you to come before the song ended.

Contrary to the very popular belief on the island of Outer Banks, there weren't that many people you hooked up with. And way less people who ate you out. So while you experienced said thing before, it wasn't anything too exciting, the guy treated it like routine and despite the fact that the clit was right there, he didn't actually touch it. It took him like 10 minutes to at least get a rhythm going and when he did he got bored, got up and assumed you'd came. A bleak and quite disappointing experience was how you described it your girl friends.

But Rafe on the other hand.. Rafe was eating you out like this was the first time he got to touch a woman, the sound of his occasional groans and hums blending with your moans and incoherent praises. You couldn't even hear the song anymore over the obscene sounds of his mouth working quickly, precisely around your clit or slipping his tongue inside. His rings were biting into your trembling thighs as he fought to keep them open around his head. Although in that moment he wouldn't have minded to suffocate and die in such a way.

Your legs were draped over his broad shoulders as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, relishing in the way your trembling hand was already struggling to card through his mussed hair. He could feel your orgasm building as the song continued and he knew he already won.

Rafe didn’t eat pussy like it was a favor. He did it like it was a fucking privilege. Like he was starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. Every flick of his tongue was precise, ruthless in its intention, but still tender enough to make your spine arch off the mattress. The way his mouth moved against you—quick, calculated, and unrelenting—made your eyes roll back, your hands fisting in his hair as if that alone could ground you. He moaned into you, the vibrations shooting straight to your core, and it wasn’t performative, not a way to get you off faster. He liked it. Enjoyed it. Worshipped it.

Your thighs trembled around his head, muscles twitching with every lash of his tongue and tight suck of his lips around your clit, and you couldn't even pretend to be quiet anymore. The song was still playing but it may as well have been white noise to you now, drowned out by the sounds spilling from your mouth and the wet, filthy noises of his tongue fucking into you. Your orgasm was hitting fast, cruel in how it built up in the pit of your stomach, and he knew it too. That cocky little groan of his confirmed it—like he felt your thighs clamp tighter around his head and took it as victory. Because it was. You came hard, breath catching in your throat, thighs tensing, hips bucking, and Rafe fucking grinned into you as he kept going, not letting up until your body fully gave out beneath him.

He didn’t need five minutes. He needed two. Maybe less.

The sight of you above him, wrecked and trembling, was the single hottest thing Rafe had ever damn seen. If he knew how to paint, he’d spend the next year painting a beautiful, breathtaking masterpiece of you in that exact moment, and that’s a fact. He gently pulled away from you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he pulled back from between your thighs, his chest heaving like he was out of breath.

"I told you I'd get you to come before the song ended."

He pulled back, his mouth glistening, his eyes burning with satisfaction before he wiped it with the back of his hand, his fingers stroking your trembling thighs as you lay beneath him, catching your breath. He looked absolutely wrecked, like he'd just had the best damn meal of his life, and he was already starving for seconds. The song didn't even end yet, and you would've been embarrassed by how fast you finished if it wasn't for the way your heart rang into your ears and chest heaved. He looked just as obscene as he made you feel, kneeling before you and smirking up at you lazily, like this was a normal occurrence for him.

You sighed, the sound shaky and barely audible as you looked down at him, and for a second you forgot the whole bet. You lolled your head back, both your hands propped behind you as you tried to regain your composure so you could speak, eyes slipped shut "That should be illegal.. and impossible.."

He chuckled, a deep, gravelly chuckle that made your skin tingle, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs as a small act of comfort, knowing you were probably still sensitive after coming for him. He was still knelt down in front of you, his jeans beginning to tighten with his growing need for you, his voice dropping low with a slight edge of amusement.

”Well, I think it can be pretty easily agreed that I should receive my reward now, don’t you think, dolly?”

"Oh, the lines?" you asked, head still tipped back in order to calm down, eyes shut tightly.

A low hum left his lips as he looked up at you, his hands continuing to rub up and down your thighs in a lazy, almost soothing pattern, like he was just as focused on helping you calm down as he was on the coke he was about to snort. He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Mhmm-"

He leaned in, pausing to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the skin of your inner thigh, just above your knee, the gesture innocent enough but the intention entirely different.

He continued pressing a series of kisses up the smooth expanse of your skin, alternating between your left and right leg, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses to the inside and outer part of your thighs before he spoke against your skin, the heat of his breath making you tingle all over.

"The lines, angel. The coke."

He paused for a moment, his lips just above the hem of your skirt, his hands still rubbing your thighs in a slow, steady pattern, like he was trying his best to calm you down despite the way his eyes were dark, nearly black

"Off my tits.." you mumbled, eyes finally opening and looking down at him as his lips brushed against your skin, gnawing on your bottom lip as you nodded.

A small, cocky smirk tugged at his lips, the corners quirked upwards in that familiar, almost arrogant way, his eyes fixed on yours and burning like liquid fire, full of desire and a silent pride. He chuckled, the sound deep and gravelly in his chest before he spoke, barely audible over the music that still thrummed through the floorboards.

"I’ve been dreaming of doing that since I was sixteen.." He murmured, his voice gruff and breathless as his finger traced a lazy, absent-minded line along your hip.

He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your stomach, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses in his wake, slowly trailing a path upward, his hands roaming over your thighs and gripping your hips, his touches lingering on your skin like fire on the inside. He nipped and sucked, leaving a small trail of faint love bites along the expanse of your stomach, all the way up to your chest before he stopped, sitting up, the new angle putting him nearly eye-level with your chest.

He leaned in, his lips leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your chest, his nose brushing along the skin as he traced a path up to the top of your chest, pressing a kiss to the skin just above your right breast.

He paused for a moment, looking up at you from under his lashes, a hint of that familiar, arrogant cocky confidence in his gaze that you'd gotten so damn used to.

"Which one first, baby? You gotta choose, otherwise I'll make that decision for you.."

You watched as his eyes zeroed on your tits before he leaned in and grazed his nose between them, like he'd never seen a pair in his life, as you smiled a little, "Well it's your reward so i believe you have the right to choose.." you murmured almost affectionately before adding "which boob you're gonna snort coke off of first?"

A low, gravelly chuckle left his lips at the affectionate tone to your voice, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for a brief moment, a flicker of surprise and fondness in them, something soft and almost intimate in the way he looked at you before it was gone, replaced with a cocky confidence as he looked back down, a smirk on his lips.

"Yeah, that's right, I do."

He looked back down at your chest, pausing for a moment to consider his choice, his eyes flickering between your two breasts.

He hummed under his breath, like he was putting a lot of thought into which one he was going to choose, though the answer was clear. He'd been staring at your chest like it was a gift from heaven for the last few minutes, and it was obvious which one he was going to choose. He licked his lips, and you could feel his hot breath against your skin, the warmth of his words as he spoke in a low, rough whisper as he murmured the words like he was speaking to a god.

"That one.."

He let his finger trail along the skin of your left boob as he spoke, his touch lingering for a moment, his lips ghosting over your skin. He leaned in, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the spot his finger had just been, his eyes fixed on yours as he continued to murmur, his voice low and gravelly, but there was undeniable adoration and desire in the words.

"Wanna hear something gross, pretty?"

He continued to leave a trail of kisses up to your left chest, still speaking as he went, his fingers tracing a light, lazy pattern as he gently cupped the flesh in his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"You know that thing they say about cokeheads having a preferred nostril?" His voice was a soft whisper, a low and teasing rumble in his chest as he spoke against your skin, his lips still leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses up your chest.

A/N: okay hi loves.... my life is a mess as always. also tumblr hates me so i have to divide the chapter into two parts, because apparently, only 1000 blocks of texts allowed per post? fuck that ill see you at the end of the second part, don't forget to like comment, reblog and join the taglist because i love you all!

Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip,@stanseventeen,@wh0reforbucknasty,@wtfisastiles,@annaconscience,@pqndxra,@carrerascameron,@nini2mem,@iynsane,@gublerstylesobrien1238,@wrldfilms,@shayofandom

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Sub-Zero x Apprentice Reader: Father Figure

Young reader is an apprentice under Kuai Liang.

Warning: Your dad is an asshole just for this fic. (If he is irl my condolences) ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Evening hits as the ice clan is dismissed from class for today. Training today was smooth, though you were still lacking behind. You didn't worry about it, though. It wasn't like the Grandmaster would be cruel to send you out to battle unprepared.

All your peers were leaving, yet you lacked behind as you weren't that eager to walk all the way home by yourself again. It's an everyday thing for you, but still, you were always paranoid. Even if you did have friends outside of training sessions, no one goes the same way as you.

Glancing around, you spot the Grandmaster doing his own thing, not appearing busy. Surely it wouldn't hurt to ask him, right?

Isn't he supposed to care about his students?

Shyly walking to him - shuffling your boots through the snow - you got your words together for what you'd request.

Kuai sees you approaching and stops what he's doing, the master cryomancer wondering what you were up to. "Greetings, Y/n. Did you need something?"

"Yes, Grandmaster. Could you... walk me home?" You felt yourself shrinking. Now that you've asked, it felt shameful. "If you want- I don't want to bother you. I just don't like walking by myself." The excuses made you feel all the more flustered.

Kuai didn't see such an issue, though. Maybe you could use the company. Besides, he wasn't doing much at the moment. It'd be nice to interact with another student other than Frost for once.

"Very well." He shrugs. It was just that easy.

One new thing he gets to learn about you during the walk is that your village is a little far from the Lin Kuei palace. Dangerous, too. Somehow, you still had a decent attendance.

Safely escorted to your cabin, you stepped on the frozen doormat before you look back at him and bowed. "Thanks for walking with me. Shall I try to bring you some tea or a snack before you go?"

"No thanks." Kuai politely turned down. "Are you here by yourself?"

You frowned and looked to the side. "Err, my dad is inside, but I'm sure he's likely asleep. I shouldn't bother him."

The scarred man's brows narrowed but he wasn't going to press it too much. "How come he doesn't walk you to training?"

"He's busy like all of us." You answered.

"Hm. Well, I'll come get you tomorrow." That sounds more like a command than offer.

Still, you had to think for a second. Anything unplanned or unusual is inconvenient, something you picked up from behavior.

"Be here early." You tell your Grandmaster, and he nods before walking away from your cabin, returning to his palace.

---Next Morning---

You've woken up and already did some morning stretches.  You hurried, yet quietly, packed up your items for today. Kuai Liang should be almost here right about now as you two planned. You just hope your dad wasn't awake at this important time-

"Well, good morning to you." You hear the same patronizing voice.

"Morning." You responded, walking to the door and not looking back until he stops you.

"Don't you leave the house a little later? Why are you leaving this early?" The side of your eye could see him cross his arms, staring dead at you.

"So I could start training early." You say with an unintentional attitude.

"If you don't want to be near me, you can just say that."

You look at your father with absurdity. "I didn't even say that, I just said I was going to train early."

He nods and walks to the couch. "Right. You keep talking to me with that tone."

"Whatever, dad." You mutter without thinking. Not such a good move.

You flinched at the loud sound behind you and you didn't know if he slammed something off the table or flipped it over. Your eyes remained glued on the door.

"Just get the hell out of my house. Go!"

Your lips quivered and you turned the doorknob, opening the door and completely froze up when you see your mentor right there.

His inarticulate eyes fall on you, and though your face was shocked, he could see the distress.

It was a brief silence. You could tell that your father behind you was also surprised as well, before he spoke up to the powerful man.

"Grandmaster Kuai Liang. What a surprise you're at my house at this time... Did you need my daughter?"

Kuai glares at your dad with hidden judgement. "I'm here to make sure she walks safely to her academy. Something you are unable to do. And I'd appreciate if you don't treat my pupil like that."

The second Sub-zero gently guides you to his side as if protecting you from your own kin's foul vibe.

"It's nice meeting you, Mr. L/N. I hope next time, you better yourself." Not that you noticed really, but his tone held a threat to your dad.

Shutting the door behind you two, Kuai holds your hand and guides the way.

"Is he always like that?" He questions you before his tone gets darkly concerning. "Does he put his hands on you?"

"Not anymore. I'm too old for that." You groaned. "But I don't know his issue. He just... He's never happy."

"And that gives him the reason to treat you like your beneath him? That's not how a father treats his daughter."

You already knew that. You were just unlucky in this life. Noticing your frown, he squeezes your hand slightly.

"I'll train you to be the best cryomancer this realm has, and your father will regret treating you as he does. And I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you." The ice man promises you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fun fact: I was originally gonna make this a Raiden fic but I rarely write about the grandmasters.

[hariet436]

As Belle, you have always known you would leave the palace. Even if clause 99 hadn’t existed, the princes are out of reach for you. The gap between the world that you and them live in was just too great to ever bridge.

That’s why you decided to outright deny having any feelings for them. You were being cruel. You told them that those moments you two spent together meant nothing to you, and that you two can never be anything. Oh, what a good actress you were not tearing up while uttering those cruel words in the most convincing way.

After a heated exchange of painful words and expressions, you were left alone in the room. As soon as the prince leaves, tears fell from your eyes. You didn’t try to stop it though. There was no sob, neither did you expression change. You just stood lifelessly there, letting the tears out as the hot liquid burnt on your cheeks and dripped to the floor. Yet the most unexpected thing happens - you hear the doorknob being turned!

1. Leon Dompteur

- he felt like he said something he shouldn’t have to you. With a small grunt, he opens the door with the intention of apologizing and asking to end things on a peaceful note.

- If parting ways is truly what you want, he had no choice but to respect that wish. Yet, he was his with the sight of you crying. Your eyes are so empty, so painful. In a rush, he strode urgently to you and wrapped his arms tightly around you, making you gasp.

- “W-why are you still here, Leon…!?”

- “If I hadn’t entered the room again, would you have continued to suffer alone like this? I should have known you were clearly lying earlier…”

- You two were going to have a much more honest conversation with each other. It was unclear what the future holds, but at least now that Leon know how you truly felt, he will never let go so easily of his beloved Belle.

2. Licht Klein

- Licht was hurt badly by your words. Was he really that unworthy of your time? Are you just that cold-hearted? Was the warmth he felt from you all a lie? He needed an answer. With that in mind, he re-entered the room, hoping you were still there.

- He froze upon seeing you silently crying with your eyes closed, your expression blank and empty, unlike he has ever seen before. Suddenly, everything clicked and there was a glimmer of hope in his ruby red eyes.

- “I knew it…” Licht mumbled quietly. You opened your eyes upon hearing the words being uttered, and was flustered when you see Licht there. You turned away out of shame, knowing you just said the cruelest things.

- Licht didn’t want to lose anyone he love anymore. With resolved steps, he made his way to you and embraced your body.

- “Please…if you act like this, both of us will be in pain. At least…I want to know what your heart desires the most.”

- The conversation wasn’t easy, but it was needed to figure out a solution that was optimal for both parties.

3. Yves Kloss

- Yves stomped into the kitchen, wanting to bake anything at all to vent his frustration. He was sure there was something between him and Belle, so he thought she would agree to his proposal that she stays in the palace. His mind races with embarrassment and a bit of anger. Was he the clueless one again?

- After half an hour, he finished making some rose pastries. The first person that pops up in his mind at that point wasn’t any of his brother, but Belle. Maybe he can make up for the argument earlier if he just give her the pastries made by the Yves Kloss!

- The first sight that greeted him was of Belle crying, her face behind her hands, scrambling to hide her puffy eyes. Yves panics and rushes inside the room.

- “W-wait, Belle, were you crying because of something I said…? I-I’m sorry! H-have some pastries…!” Yves tried to sooth her and patted her back. Feeling the warmth of this clumsy yet adorable gesture, you wiped your tears away.

- “No, it’s not your fault, Yves, please…”

- “Then what is it? Please tell me, Belle! I-I don’t want you to cry in solitude like I used to…”

- That afternoon, Belle and Yves had a heartfelt conversation. You have decided you won’t lie about your reverence for him anymore.

4. Jin Grandet

- unlike his brothers, Jin was sensitive to a woman’s feelings. He can pick up the signs that you were lying. But he can’t understand why - was she afraid of something? Maybe it was their difference in status…their worlds. Maybe parting ways was the best way for both of them.

- However, Jin’s heart was telling him otherwise. It was the love of his life! He should at least fight for it - or else he would feel continue to feel hollow - unable to express himself to anyone.

- With a determined mind, Jin opens the door only to witness Belle quietly sobbing, her pearly tears falling down the sides of her cheeks. She looks…solemn and sorrowful. No, if parting ways was just going to make them both like this for a lifetime, then he’d rather weather all of the court politics only to have Belle by his side.

- “Why weren’t you just honest from the start…” Jin sighs. He takes your hand and takes you out of the room. “Let’s go, Belle. We shall have a date together and you’ll change your mind about me!”

[moon-buggg]

All's Well

another Mad Science drabble, this time featuring Sun! Companion piece to this

word count: 691

content warnings: very brief mention of blood

When they had first arrived at the (seemingly) abandoned manor, its size had intimidated Sun. It was the perfect opposite to everything he was used to, rooms within rooms guarded by twisting halls, all dark and imposing like the walls wanted nothing more than to consume him. Keep him lost and trapped forever. 

It took some time, but he was finally starting to get used to the layout, and was able to find his destination more often than not. His thorough exploration was paying off.

In fact, there was only one room in the whole manor Sun had not entered. The laboratory.

Even now, after combing through the rest of the house looking for you, he did not cross that barrier. The heavy wooden doors loom, keeping him away from you. Sun stands perfectly still, arm reaching but never touching.

He… he could do this! He would do this! You had been working for far too long and were long overdue for a break, and you needed your favourite assistant to remind you! He knew you were in there, could practically see you hunched over… whatever it was you were working on today. He just… had to open the door. 

Sun wasn’t scared- not of you, never of you- just… it could be hard to stomach the messier parts of your work. Thoughts of your first meeting, an unknown figure drenched in who knows what looming in the dark and staring, flash through his head, sending an involuntary shudder through his body. So messy, messy messy messy.

Slowly, hesitantly, he pulls his hand away from the doorknob and knocks. 

….

……………

Sun's head tilts with a soft ‘click.’ He knows you are in there. You rarely venture out without company these days (you rarely venture out at all), and he knows for a fact Moon is lurking around the basement somewhere. 

The rational part of him suggests that you must have fallen asleep at your desk again, or perhaps are simply so engrossed in your task you didn't hear him. Both extremely likely options. The darker, louder part of him howls how something bad must have happened. An experiment gone wrong, an injury- your blood pooling on white tile floors.

He knocks again, louder. 

“Doctor? Friend, are you in there?” He calls, cheerful as ever. He does not break out that title often, but he deems it necessary in this instant.

Silence.

He is suddenly, uncomfortably, aware of every gear, wire, spring, mechanism inside of him as his arm shoots for the handle. The hinges groan as he reefs open the door revealing-

You. Slumped over your desk and free of blood.

The seconds stretch as Sun’s racing mind catches up to the sight. Oh. You had fallen asleep. Good good, that’s good. Silly Sun, everything always works out! Yes, of course after so long working you… would be tired! No matter how often you professed your greatness, you were only human after all.

Sun toes the line between tile and hardwood. He wants more than anything to sweep you off to bed, ensure you get some proper rest. No matter how determined you are to avoid your bed, your desk is no replacement. If you are so dead set on neglecting yourself, Sun will simply make sure you’re taken care of himself.

He mimes a steadying breath, and crosses the threshold.

Walking quietly to your desk, he takes no notice of the state of the lab. He does not stare at jars with dubious contents, pays no attention to odd stains, staunchly ignores the lumpy thing hidden under a sheet. Sun keeps his eyes firmly on you. 

You do not stir as he gently, gently, so gently, picks you up. You remain limp and lifeless in his grasp. It is only the faint beating of your heart felt through metal fingertips that keeps him from trying to wake you.

You are simply asleep. Will continue to be asleep, if he has anything to say about it. Moon is in the basement, Sun is escorting you to your room and everything is well.

Sun closes the laboratory doors firmly behind him.