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gloomskulls · 6 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHAT LIES UNDERNEATH [cult member peter parker x reader]

pairings: dark! peter parker x reader

blurb/part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after losing your family, your friends, and your boyfriend, Peter Parker casually crashes in your life out of nowhere. His presence was welcoming, as his so-called village is too. But his hospitality seems to have something darker underneath

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ NON-CON/DUB-CON (RAPE), heavy manipulation, toxic relationship, cult beliefs, oral (fem receiving), drugging (use of an aphrodisiac), p in v, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, mild violence, mentions of death, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied murder. lemme know if I missed any. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

a/n: this is loosely based on Midsommar, it's a really good movie. I have changed some stuff that i didn't feel comfortable writing or I just didn't want to write. Also this maybe the worst smut you've ever read probably. don't steal any of my shit or I'll steal ur head.

"I'm sorry sissy, the darkness is consuming me, and I will take them with me"

Those were the last texts your sister sent you. You were worried sick about her cryptic message and wanted disclosure from her, but she hasn't written back.

Your sister has been known to be a rather mentally challenged person. She was just venting to you. Right?

It was unnaturally still in the air, sitting at your kitchen table with the phone pressed close to your ear. Your fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against the edge of the table, still collapsed trying to ground yourself. All night, your sister has not picked up her phone. The strange text messages she had sent earlier in the day replayed like a broken record in your mind.

How many times have you been thinking of something really wrong, more than you would admit, but still dismissing it?

Somehow tonight felt different.

You texted Harry to reassure you, but the typical unsympathetic reply only served to add more weight to that chest heaviness again. Now you are left alone with your thoughts, and each one seems darker than the other.

You were about to not pick the phone because it looked like a spam call to you. The number was unknown, but that gut feeling inside you made you press accept.

"Hello?" Your voice dared as you strove to steady it.

The unknown caller said your name as they spoke, "Is this her?" The voice on the other end was calm but carried a cold detachment that made your stomach drop.

"Yes," you replied.

"This is Officer Hill with the NYPD. I'm sorry to tell you we've had an incident regarding your family," she said.

Air disappeared from your lungs suddenly, and your grip tightened against the phone. "What kind of incident?"

"I understand this is tough," she said, her voice carefully measured. "But I need you to come to the station. It's better to speak in person."

The issue of reality has been stretched and heavy between you, and it was so unbearable. “No,” you spoke finally in a panic voiding interiorly. “Please, just tell me now. What happened?”

There was a moment's hesitation in Hill's case. In that moment, you could feel the world starting to crack around you.

"There is no easy way to say this," she finally managed to come up with. "Your parents and sister were involved in a fatal accident. I am so sorry."

You could not comprehend those words for a moment. They swayed in the air outside with an unreal and incomprehensible quality. "What do you mean? Are they okay? What—"

"They didn't survive," Hill said softly, and that cut through your spiraling questions.

The phone fell from your hand and banged tipsily on the table. To this resonating rattle in the small space, however, your ear was tuned out. Your chest tightened, and the phrase ran in your brain, echoing in shallow gasps.

They didn't survive.

The days that followed the funeral just passed in a haze of hollow condolences and noise deafening silence. Your world had been torn apart while everything moved forward—all relentless and lame. Harry, your boyfriend of 2 years stayed as he assured you, but his presence seemed more of a fulfillment of an obligation than any comfort.

He was not exactly a cruel person; at least not really overt, for distance was a high-dubious chasm with every awkward conversation and with every minute spent by him scrolling through his phone instead of talking to you. Not blind are you to those glances he exchanged with his buddies once they assumed you weren't watching. There is pity instead of love and comfort in his eyes whenever you cry.

The last straw fell on a quiet Friday evening. You had dragged yourself to the apartment of Harry, looking for refuge in his presence after yet another sleepless night. He was lounging in the couch with one hand gripping a phone while the other was a beer.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," you admitted softly and settled next to him. Your voice cracked, and at last, the tears that were kept in were poured out. "I don't know how to do this without them. I don't know how to… keep going."

Harry glanced towards your direction, the look on his face inscrutable. After that, he set his phone down and fell into this heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, okay? But you can't keep unloading things like this on me. It's…it's too much."

Your heart sank. "Too much?"

"I'm not your therapist," he said in defensive. "I don't know what you want me to do. I can't fix this for you."

"I'm not asking you to fix it!" You snapped while accepting the anger that had replaced the hurt. "I just need you to be here. To actually care."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he diverted his gaze from her, tightening his jaw. "This isn't fair," he muttered.

"What do you mean fair!?" you yelled, your volume rising. "Me grieving my whole family? It isn't as terrible as needing the person who's supposed to love me to act and comfort me?"

Harry stood up immediately and started pacing the tiny living room. "I didn't sign up for this," he said. The words cut like knives. "I feel like… like I'm drowning too. I'm trying to keep my head above water, but here you are, pulling me under."

Your breath literally caught in your throat at that last sentence, as if a blow on the physical plane had hit home. "Is that really how you see me? As one who drags you down?" You asked in disbelief.

However, he stopped pacing and turned toward you, shoulders sagging. "I don't know," he said more quietly. "I don't know what I feel anymore. My friends tell me I should end it. They say I can't do this to myself. But I thought, you know, that might help."

"Help?" you echoed, voice breaking. "You think pity keeping me would help? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Harry looked away. "Well, I'm sorry! alright!? It's not like I want to be part of your fuckin tenth reason in your suicide note!". Guilt was scrawled across his face when those words left his mouth. "I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You stood waveringly. Nevertheless, your voice remained firm. "If this is too much for you, then spit it out. Be frank for once, Harry."

He hesitated, his silence answering the question you hadn't dared to ask outright.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Well, that's what I figured."

You took your bag and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you just before the torrent of tears fell as you stumbled down the street. For the first time in weeks, you were truly alone. Sure, Harry wasn't the best boyfriend, but now you didn't have family, Harry, heck, you don't even have friends to pat you in the back and tell you it's alright.

You were truly alone, crying in the middle of the streets.

A week later, at the dinner party of an old classmate's friend, Peter Parker walks into your life.

Peter wasn't meant to be there—he admitted that soon after you started the talk. "I kind of crashed this," he confessed with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I heard there was free food, and, uh… I have no self-control."

You laughed against your will. It was a real laugh that felt vaguely familiar after weeks of grief.

He was awkward but charming, with rapid tumbling out of words out of his mouth as he tried to start a small talk. "So, uh, how do you know Sam? Are you a friend from work? Oh wait, no, you don't look old enough to work with him—wait, not that you look like a kid or anything. I just meant—"

"It's okay," you interrupted, smile still there regardless. "I get it. I am also kinda crashing here, I never really got a proper invite, I just found out from one of my old classmates that there was a party, now here I am"

The more you could talk to him, the more you would discover how easy it was to be in his company. Unlike Harry, who had always been polished and withdrawn, Peter was frank and genuine, emotions laid out for all to see.

And by the end of the night, he had known your family. You had not intended to tell him, but somehow the way he listened— actually listened— made it spill out.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said softly, voice laced thickly with empathy. "That is… I can't even imagine what you're going through. But, if you ever need someone to talk to—or like, someone to distract you with dumb jokes—I'm here."

You've been taken aback by his earnestness. Finally, after what felt like years, someone might have noticed you.

It was indeed one of those nights which made time stretch out into eternity. You were there with Peter on a park bench where the faint light of the flickering city lights was shining through dense bushes and trees. The air was crisp, a cool kind that could very much seep into one's bones, yet Peter's company made it bearable.

He had this way of filling the silence without forcing it: sometimes talking, rambling on about whatever random thought invaded his head, sometimes just sitting with a person comfortable in the quiet, and today, he was acting especially thoughtful, staring at some faraway towers protruding above the skyline.

"Can I ask you something?" he suddenly blurted out, breaking the stillness.

"Sure."

He hesitated, bit his bottom lip as if he couldn't decide how to start, and began speaking. "Do you ever feel like…I don't know, like you're stuck?"

You blinked. It caught you off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Like everybody around you is moving ahead, but you're just there standing still," he explained, his words pretty crumbling out in that earnest, awkward way of his. "Like no matter what you do, you can't catch up."

The question was a little more awkward for you than you'd expected. "Yeah," you quietly admitted. "too many times than how I want it to be"

"It's tiring" he said, his eyes still far. "I get that. After my uncle… well died, after all that, I felt like I was trapped in this… I don't know, this loop. So, I couldn't allow myself to be happy because it would feel wrong, you know? Like I didn't deserve it."

You were gaping at him, flabbergasted by his openness. Peter was not the kind to talk much about himself—not like this, anyway.

"How did you get out of it?" you asked in a soft voice.

He smiled faintly. "I didn't. Not really. But I found something that helped."

"What was it?"

Peter gazed upward at the stars. "My hometown. It's a little dot in the middle of nowhere on the map. Quiet, kind of old-fashioned place. But there's something… something grounding."

He stopped for a brief while, casting a doubtful glance at you. "I go back every summer. It's like hitting a reset button or something. And, uh… would you want to join me this year?"

Totally unexpected. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly, blushing in the face of it. "If you want to. No pressure, or anything. Just you have been through a lot, and I thought maybe time away might help or something. It's not fancy or anything—definitely not the kind of place with five-star hotels—but it's peaceful. And I'd be there, so… you wouldn't be alone."

At his words, your throat became somewhat tight. He was not offering a vacation. He was inviting you to an escape.

"I don't know," You finally ventured with a little quiver of voice. "What if I just feel worse?"

"You won't," Peter said firmly, his brown eyes locking onto yours. "I won't let you."

There was something so genuine about the way he said it, like he truly believed he could protect you from the weight of your grief.

"What is it like?" you asked, helpless curiosity walking over your hesitation.

Peter's eyes set aglow at that moment, brimming over with a lot of excitement. "Oh gosh! Now where do I even begin? Okay, so there's this diner right in the middle of town. It's run by Mr. and Mrs. Beck. They've been married for like fifty years or something, and they make the fluffiest pancakes you've ever tasted in your life. And then there's this old library. Small, yes, but it has this weird charm, you know? Everything is crooked, and half the books are falling apart, but I love it. Oh, and there's this great big field just outside of town—it's perfect to stargaze because you can see the Milky Way out there. It's insane."

Now he was practically bouncing out of his seat, his enthusiasm almost contagious.

"It sounds… amazing," you found yourself admitting. A small smile tugged your lips.

"It's amazing," Peter said earnestly. "And I think you would love it. Everyone is so welcoming there. It's like… a little bubble of goodness in this horrible world sometimes."

For just a moment, you let yourself imagine it, far from the city and the reminders of everything that had been lost, somewhere I might again breathe.

"Okay," you said finally, barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes lit up. "Really? You're going to come?"

"Yeah," you said, surprising even yourself. "I think I need this."

"Trust me; you won't regret it," Peter continued, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn't fix everything. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything. But for now, it was enough to know you wouldn't be facing it alone.

It was a surreal feeling about the trip toward Peter's hometown. It was almost a relief because you sensed that you were really leaving everything behind, even thought it was just a few weeks. Driving in a comfortable pattern with Peter talking animatedly about all of the town's strange things, while you listened and occasionally chimed in with a question or a laugh at one of his goofy replies.

As you drove farther from the city and the scenery opened to rolling hills and dense forests before you, Peter shifted in his seat to adjust the radio. The soft tune filled the car and merged with the sounds of the tires over the road.

"You are going to love it," Peter said, glancing at you with an innocent smile. "Air's so fresh it nearly smells fake, and the stars. They're nothing like anything you've ever seen before. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, smiling despite the nervous knot still twisting about in your chest.

The town came into view just about the time the sun started sinking, dipping the horizon in gold and pinks. It was a little bit smaller than you had in mind, the kind of place that probably knew everyone by name.

Peter slowed the car as you entered the main street, which was lined with quaint buildings that appeared to have been plucked from another era. A few of the local's whereabouts were either on their porches talking, in their gardens working, or taking their dogs out for a walk. They would almost wave at Peter as they drove past.

"See? Told you. Nicest people on the planet," said Peter returning the waves enthusiastically.

"No shit," you said, watching a woman coming across with a basket of flowers smile toward you warmly.

Peter stopped in a graveled driveway leading to a homely two-storied fairy tale house. Crooked white picket fence and wildflower-laden garden, there was little that screamed charm.

The moment the car stopped, from the front door, she came, a petite woman in her 30's with brown hair, beaming with kindness in her eyes and warmth in her smile.

"There's my darling nephew!" she called out.

Peter jumped out of the car, practically bounding onto her, hugging her. "Aunt May!"

"And you must be the girl Peter keeps talking about," she said, her bright eyes finding their way to you. "Peter has told me so much about you."

"Oh, um, hi," you said, stepping out of the car and giving a small wave.

"Then that's it," she said, surprising with her strong hug for her small figure. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. Come in! It's rather hot out here during the summers"

Once you stepped into the house, you were met with interior that was as cozy as anyone could expect, the design suggests mixes between vintage and modern furniture, with colorful throw blankets and knickknacks making it feel lived in. There was also a faint waft of freshly baked cookies, which you soon spotted on the kitchen counter.

"Make yourself at home," May said, "Your room's already set up upstairs. Peter can show you around."

"Thanks May," Peter replied, already grabbing your bag before you could protest.

Up came Peter, leading you to a small but cozy guest room overlooking the backyard.

"Hope that's cool," said Peter, dropping your bag next to the bed. "Not fancy, but it's quiet."

"It's perfect," you said, placing your backside on the edge of the bed and taking a moment to breathe.

In the following days, Peter became your own personal tour guide, leading you through the town every nook and cranny, and introduced you to everyone as if you were already a part of the community, and to your surprise, they all welcomed you with open arms

Mr. and Mrs. Beck would insist on serving you their best pancakes while there at the diner even after breakfast time.

"We have heard so much about you," Mrs. Beck said it with a twinkle in her eyes. "Peter's nearly counting the days until you came."

Peter turned red and scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks, Mrs. Beck. Subtle as always."

Library, this was to be; the charmingly ramshackle structure seemed to sag under the weight of its many books. Peter's eyes lit up as he walked through those rows of crooked shelves with his fingers trailing over the spines.

"This here was my escape growing up," he said, pulling a worn copy of The Hobbit from the shelf. "Any time things got… overwhelming, I'd come here. Just me, a book, and a whole lot of silence."

This was the kind of moment when one caught a glimpse into Peter's world of quiet, reflective, introspective thinking where the depths beneath the sunshine state, as always, reside.

The very field that Peter had described so vividly turned out to be even more breathtaking than you ever imagined. The grass stretched out in every direction, swaying gently in the breeze, and the sky above was that of a canvas painted with stars, brighter and bolder than he had ever seen.

With a dramatic sigh, Peter flopped onto the ground, patting a spot next to him. "Come on, you're not getting the full experience unless you lie down."

You hesitated to lie down beside him, letting the cool grass tickle your arms as you stared up at the infinite expanse of sky.

"Wow," you breathed.

"Yeah?" he said, turning his head towards you. "It's like the universe decided to show off or something."

They lay there silently for a good while with the sound of the rustling grass and an occasional chirp of crickets. That was the most peaceful you had felt in a long, long time.

Maybe it was a little initial self-talk that told you it was just small town hospitality. People in cities don’t wave at strangers, though maybe that’s simply what people do out here. Maybe they were just genuinely curious about a stranger in a little place where everyone knows everyone.

But as the day went on, those small gestures, those innocent jests began to feel… different.

It started out slow.

At the diner, Mrs. Beck lingered longer than she ought to while refilling your coffee, her smile warm but sharp, penetrating eyes boring onto you.

"You're feeling like one of us already, aren't you?" she would have said, almost as if it were a statement rather than a question.

You gave a polite smile with no idea of how to answer. "Uh, yeah, everybody's really welcomed here."

"Oh, good," she said, with a firm nod. "That's what we want."

There's something in the way she said it, words weighing a lot more than they were supposed to.

And so it went; the Becks household was not the only one. The pattern held true for nearly every encounter.

"How are you settling in?"

Not "welcome" or "hi and how long are you staying?" The last kind of question you would expect from someone meeting a newcomer. The question, however, assumed permanence. It assumed that you were settling in, that you live here now.

Initially, you passed it off as just another one of those quirks that could be attributed to small-town hospitality. Maybe that's just their way of being polite. But after a few more days, it became pretty hard to ignore the repetition.

You brought it up to Peter one morning as the two of you sat on May's porch, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

"Is it just me," you began, keeping your tone light, "or does everyone here ask the same question?"

Peter looked up from his mug, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What question?"

"How I'm 'settling in.' Like, literally everyone has said it."

"Oh, that?" Peter chuckled, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "That's just how people are around here. Small towns, you know? Everyone's in everyone else's business, and they just want to make sure you're happy. It's aggressively wholesome."

You nodded while struggling to let his explanation take root in you, but that feeling of unease lingered.

Then came the presents.

The librarian insisted that you check out a copy of Little Women, even if you just went there to browse.

"You'll love it," she said, sliding it over the counter to you with a knowing smile.

"How do you know?" you asked, only half-joking.

Her smile didn't waver. "I just do."

At the hardware store, the owner gave you a tiny potted shrub. "Every home needs a little bit of green," he said cheerfully, but his eyes had a dark intensity that made him more intimidating.

"Thanks," you mumbled awkwardly, holding the plant as you walked out.

It was the kind of gift given by a dead beat dad, not at all because you wanted it, but so they could wave it in your face.

The real breaking point occurred one night at the diner.

Peter was treating you to dinner there after spending the afternoon wandering around town. It was quieter than usual, the counter occupied only by a few regulars. The place smelled of coffee and fries, and while Peter was busy demolishing a plate of the latter, you excused yourself to go to the washroom.

The hallway at the back of the diner is dark and narrow, the overhead fluorescent lights humming in slightly grating tones. At the door marked "Women," you caught snatches of voices from the kitchen-garbled, urgent.

"…And she's settling in?"

"She seems fine so far. Peter's doing a good job keeping her comfortable."

You were frozen with your hand on the doorknob. Your pulse raced. "Good, she has to feel like she belongs, it's important."

Then there was a crashing sound of many dishes, followed by a long heavy pause.

"So," says the first voice, "you think she suspects anything?"

"No. Not yet."

There, silence fell between the voices after that, then just the faintest clink—the sound of silverware-and the quick pounding of your heartbeat resounded in your ears.

When you stepped back to the table, Peter's easy smile greeted you. "Everything cool?" he asked as he dipped a fry into ketchup. "Yeah," you said quickly as you slid into your seat. "Fine."

The mind remained racing.

They must be talking about someone else—a new hire at the diner. Maybe a new family into town. There was no way they were talking about you.

Right?

You tried to shake it off, sinking into Peter's chatter about the upcoming festival, but the unease clung to you like a second skin.

May's small guest room became so beautiful in the rays of the morning sun that they filtered through lace curtains and softly flecked the walls. You stared ridiculously at the ceiling, a heavy weight on your chest, making sleep unusually elusive. Thoughts had been just too loud and tangled.

Those whispers from the diner, the rehearsed kindness from townspeople, and the way he seemed to brush it all off so easily were elusive things you couldn't shake off. The most you told yourself was that it was probably nothing.

This is what you told yourself as you forced yourself out of bed and down the stairs. Peter wouldn't lie to you; he was the most genuine person you knew. Right?

The smell of pancakes and coffee greeted you in the kitchen.

By the stove stood Peter, his hair at odd angles and humming a tune under his breath. For a moment, you let yourself relax. This is Peter, your Peter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted, grinning at you with that boyish grin. He slid over a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and topped with fresh strawberries.

"Morning," you replied, low enough to be heard.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, just didn't sleep much," you tugged and picked little at your food.

"Frowning," Peter said and kept down his fork. "Anything troubling you?"

"No," you lied quickly. "Just one of those nights."

He studied you for a moment, and you forced a small smile. Whatever the unease was, there was no reason for dragging Peter into it. He'd just dismiss it as he always did.

At last, the day was spent in a well-practiced blur of activities. It seemed Peter had made up his mind to keep you as busy as possible, even dragging you around the town park and to that creek he used to catch tadpoles as a kid. And if that weren't enough, he picked you up from the bakery where the sweet aroma of pastries was very strong. Offering you so many pastries till your stomach ached

Evening had cloaked the house in darkness, and so much for bottled up emotions. After dinner, the two of you sat alone in the living room: May well and truly off to bed. And that left you here with Peter sprawled across the couch flipping through some book, while you closed yourself into a tight little knot in the armchair.

"Peter," you broke the silence.

He blinked up at you with alarmed eyes. "Yeah?"

"I need to ask you something."

His brows knitted slightly, but he set aside the book. "Sure. What is it?"

You pause, heart racing. "Last night at the diner I heard something. Two people in the kitchen were talking about me."

Peter's face remained impassive. Still in his eyes, there was a flicker of something that disappeared as quickly as the light.

"What did they say?"

"They said you were doing a good job keeping me comfortable. That I need to feel like I belong." You paused, faltering with your voice. "Peter, what does that mean?"

Peter leaned forward, dangling his elbows on his knees. "It's nothing, they were probably just being nosy. People here care about each other, and when someone new comes in, they get… curious."

"That is not how it sounded," you said shaking your head. "It sounded like, intentional. It sounded much like plotting."

"You're overthinking this" Peter sighed rubbing back on his neck "Seriously, this town—it's different—close-knit. They just want to ensure you feel welcome, happy here, nothing but that".

“Then why does it feel so fake?” you pressed, raising your voice. “Everyone acts like they already know me. Like they’re expecting something to come from me.”

Peter tensed his jaw, and then he did not speak anything for a moment. He then stood up suddenly. "I brought you here for your help," he said in a hard tone. "I brought you here so you might begin a fresh mental state, a place where you could heal. And instead of appreciating it, you are looking for ways to tear it apart."

"I didn't ask for this!" you shot back, standing as well. "I didn't ask to be dragged into some town where everyone acts like I'm part of some… some secret club!"

Peter turned to you, eyes flashing. "You didn't have to ask! You were falling apart. You needed this. And I've been trying my best to make things easier for you, but you can't even see that, can you?"

The words hit you like a slap. Staring at him, breathless, tears filling your eyes. "Peter… why are you doing this?"

He softened immediately, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—look, I just… I care about you. I hate seeing you so lost. I thought bringing you here would help, but maybe I was wrong."

You wiped your eyes, and the mind is busy with thoughts. Maybe he is right. Maybe you are over-reacting. Peter was not that manipulative. He was just worried.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice shaky. "But if this town is so great, then why does it feel like there is something you are not telling me?"

Peter's eyes drifted towards the window momentarily—as if to check whether there were eavesdroppers outside—"It is not like that," he said, whispering faintly barely audible.

"Then tell me what it is," you said. "If you want me to trust you, then stop keeping secrets."

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "Alright," he said. "But you're not going to like it."

"And that's supposed to mean what?"

He moved closer, looking you straight in the eye. "Some things are better demonstrated rather than told," he said, his tone even more pleading. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Just…give me another day."

You gawked at him, feeling your belly tie up in knots. Every instinct in you screamed to demand answers right now, but for some reason, the look in his eyes stopped you. He looked… desperate.

"Fine," you said with reluctance. "One more day."

Peter nodded, a relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he said almost inaudibly. "I assure you, it will all come into perspective soon."

But climbing into bed that night only made more pronounced the doubts gnawing at you louder than they had done before.

The cold, crisp evening air wrapped tight around you like a noose, as they led Peter into the woods. Try as you might to ignore the uncomfortable hollow in your gut, the longer you sat in this strange, unsettling village, the more you felt that something dark ran underneath it all. Every villager's smile, how they seemed to know just a little too much about you—everything just felt orchestrated, perfect.

You had held the doubts to yourself, buried deep down because Peter had always been the perfect anchor. But tonight, something flickered in his eyes—his tense shoulders and that almost undetectable flash of something darker crossing his face—told you that you were no longer in control.

You entered the clearing, gasping for air by the time you stepped into the structure resembling a stone chapel. The door agonizingly creaked open, bringing in the cold air from outside in juxtaposition with the stifling heat within. There, illuminated softly, were the others. A few you recognized from the eerily quiet familiar faces that watched you through predatory eyes.

It felt thick and heavy in the air, almost stultifying. The walls were closing in, and the silence was becoming almost oppressive. Peter gently but firmly drew you forward, his comforting presence still providing warmth, though everything else seemed wrong.

He was more weathered and older than you imagined, the drawn skin of his face tight over sharp features, pale and unblinking eyes matching his face. The robe hung dark and almost blended into shadows as he approached you. A murmur swept through the people gathered, and you paid little attention. Everything spun in your head and your heart drummed against your ears.

"Peter," said the man with a voice which grated like a rusty hinge, as if he had been whispering for years. "She has come."

Peter's eyes had been fixed on you for some time, and now he nodded slowly. The heat of his gaze made your skin crawl. The man checked you out from head to toe, and his intense eyes seemed to promise a lot of something. "Perfect," he said under his breath but not for too long so that others could hear him as he shouted, "She is the one. It's time."

Time, just like that word, seemed hollow, reverberating in the air around you like a bad omen. Instead, you opened your mouth to argue or question what part of this was really happening, but then, Peter squeezed your shoulder so tightly that it felt like it might crush your bones.

"It's okay," he whispered against your ear with his very warm breath. "I'll explain everything. You'll understand soon enough."

But understanding was the last thing you wanted to happen. All you had in mind was running. The man stepped forward, never breaking the eye contact. "Our village has managed to survive for many centuries and still thrive at its odds. But there is one rule that we have to abide by—there is one rule that can't be broken. After every eighteen years, one of our own must depart from this world and find someone in the outside world—from beyond these walls to someone pure."

Your mouth went dry. "What… what do you mean by that?"

"Every time a child turns eighteen, he must leave for a period of time to spend in the world outside, learn its ways; but after this period, he must return, and he must bring someone from the outside to add to the village."

Your body suddenly turned ice cold. "What do you mean, bring someone from the outside?" You spluttered. Your voice barely made an impression on the silence.

The smile of the man became broad. "A new family member. A mate. Someone to whom they will get married, with whom they will create children. This is the law."

You turned to Peter with wide eyes filled with horror as your heart stuttered deep in your chest. "What do you mean… a mate? You want me to…?"

Peter tightened his grip on your shoulder and breathed shallowly. "That's how it is done. This is how we survive. The village needs strong new blood. The children produced from these unions keep the bloodline pure, preventing inbreeding."

Inbreeding. That one word roared through your mind like no other thought. You couldn't breathe. You felt suffocated under the weight of all that.

"What… what are you saying?" you gasped, stunned and unable to take in everything being revealed to you.

Peter stepped even closer; eyes dark with something almost predatory. "That's how this works. You're part of the plan now. You have no choice. You are here because you were chosen. You are going to help us keep the village alive. Our survival depends on… "

"No," you whispered, stumbling backward as you tried to retreat. "No, this isn't right. You can't—this isn't—"

And suddenly, an old man stepped beside you, his shadowy tallness overshadowing you. "You will understand soon. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. Every child who leaves returns with someone. And they will mate, they will bear children. This is how we preserve our people, how we protect our bloodline." He said as if it was your duty, as if this was your destiny.

"No!" You screamed tearing the air with your voice now choked in emotions. "This is insane! You're insane!"

The gentleness from Peter that used to soothe you all vanished, replaced by the steely resolve. He took another step forward, and instinctively you recoiled. "I did not want you to have this," he said, his voice low and strained, "but it is how it is. You will come to understand, and you will see that it is for the best."

The other villagers watched you with silent intensity as the space surrounding you felt as if it were closing in on you, with walls pressing from all sides. You could feel their hungry and expectant eyes on you.

You wanted to run. You wanted to yell.

But as soon as the old man reached out his hand to grab you, Peter's hold on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you anchored. "You don't understand yet," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something darker, something that, as it sent chills down your spine, made you think he was going to take you off somewhere to be tortured. "But you will. Soon, it will make sense. The only way to survive is this. This is something we can't let you ruin."

You were trapped. The weight of their expectations crushed you, their smiles now twisted masks of something monstrous beneath.

"Your child will also do the same duty," the old man said softly. "When they come back to the village with their mate, they will fulfill their destiny. They will carry our future."

Your chest constricted. Every part of you screamed to escape, to run, to fight against the suffocating nightmare into which you had been dragged. All the while, in the depths of your consciousness, you knew that there was no escaping this; they had planned for this. They had chosen you.

Back against the stone wall of the chapel now, your breath came in rapid, gasping suction since the reality began to drown in you. It beat loudly in your chest, a frantic mind racing for exit routes, for freedom from the path that had been laid out for me like a spider's web in all its horrible detail.

Peter's gaze was cold and cruel; it was no longer the warm presence one had hoped for. The heady words of the old man echoed in your ears, chilling and impossible to escape, like a curse. "You will return. You will bear our future."

As impossible as it was to believe, you finally realized it, this fucked up cycle wanted you to be part of it—and not by choice.

But you weren't going to let that happen.

You pushed past Peter and felt the sharp sting as he grabbed at your arm. You broke free, legs now trembling beneath you, as you headed for the door. You had to get out. You didn't know where you were running, but the woods were the only option. The only chance at freedom. You burst through the chapel door and into the cold night air, stumbling over uneven ground.

You heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't dare look back. The wind howled around you, swallowing up any sounds from the village. Your lungs burned as you pushed yourself faster, harder, your breath ragged from panic clawing at your chest.

You didn't look up when you heard a car approaching, but you didn't stop either, as your mind told you to keep running, to escape, but your legs were beginning to fail you.

The car stopped short before you, the headlights blinding. You turned with a wild heart as the door to that vehicle swung open. A man in a police uniform stepped out, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, with a soft voice but underneath carrying an authority.

He wouldn't let you trust him, and you could be in danger. "I-I need help," you stuttered, barely able to catch your breath. "They're chasing me. They—they won't let me leave."

The officer stepped closer, his eyes darting toward the woods behind you. "Who's chasing you? What happened?" His voice was smooth, coaxing, calm.

You stumbled toward him, the last shreds of your resistance slipping away. His presence was comforting, the uniform a familiar sign of safety in this strange world that had turned upside down. "Please," you gasped. "I need to get out of here. Please help me."

The officer smiled, that warm, almost paternal smile that gave you a moment's feeling of cocooned safety. "You are well within safety here. Get into the car and I'll take you to the station. They won't find you."

You didn't even think twice about it. Worn out and shivering, you climbed into the passenger seat of the car. The door slammed behind you, then the engine revved into life. You sank into the seat, closed your eyes, letting the sound of the engine create an illusion of safety. Finally, you escaped. Finally, you could breathe again.

The engine growled before heading out with the officer looking at you and softening his expression to almost a grin. "A strange night out here, huh?" Are you really sure you are, okay?"

You shook your head, catching your breath. "I need to get away from those people… I don't know who they are but they're dangerous."

"People can be dangerous, can't they?" he mused.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't know who to trust anymore."

Soft chuckle from him, as if to sense that it sounds contrived, that it has to be learned. "What's trust? You just have to know whom to get along with and whom to avoid. It requires experience."

You just turned to the window and trees and darkness rushed by. The mind was reeling from the attempt at grasping everything that has happened as it was really too much: the town; the event; Peter's cold stare; and now this—this officer who has apparently materialized at just the right moment. He must be the one sent to rescue you.

"Where are we off to?" You asked

"Oh, just a little way out of town," he replied, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. "Nothing to worry about."

You nod, fatigue dragging heavily on your eyelids. For a moment, it felt good, like all was well. But then the cop's voice became a personal one.

''I'm Steve by the way, Steve Rogers. Was just coming here for a quick stroll," he began, "I never thought I was going to be out here, helping someone like you. It is really funny, how life turns out."

Brow furrowed, and incomprehension written all over the face. "What do you mean?"

The very slight narrowing of the officer's eyes at you, just for an instant, was followed by his returning gaze to the road ahead. "I spent a lot of time in these parts, and the people can be somewhat…. they are peculiar. But then, I guess you already know that."

Heck, what was he talking about? "What do you mean by a little hard to understand? Who do you mean by that?"

Just above a smile, something confidential, something dark, flickered across the officer's lips. "Well, my wife, Peggy… she was from around here. She got them, you know? Understood what was going on. It took me a long time to realize it, but eventually, I figured it out. I did too."

Your heart stops, hammering against the confinement of your ribs. "Peggy… Carter?" That name rang in your mind like a bell, sharp and dissonant. You had heard that name before, only in whispers, a long time ago.

From what you remembered Peggy Carter was one of the most vicious woman in the police force, even in her short time in doing her job. One day she got married to a man named Steve and nothing was heard from her again. As if she disappeared, she completely left her job and duty, and so did Steve who was a fellow police like her who also vanished from the face of the earth. That was all you knew, and all of that happened 10 years ago. Many believed they moved. Some believed

The officer's smile brightened, but now it had no warmth. His voice went down low, as if telling you a secret you weren't supposed to know, "That's right. Peggy Carter. She was special. A part of something much bigger than either of us ever realized. I didn't understand it at first. Thought she was just a regular woman… but then I saw it. I saw everything for what it was."

It had caught in your throat because your mind was connecting all the dots. Peter, in actual fact, couldn't stop saying that you were here for a bigger thing, that you actually belonged. And now there is the officer, Peggy Carter, the strange village thing, the quite twisted ceremony—now everything starts to get clearer while terrifying you.

Your pulse raced, and once more, you cast a glance at him, eyes wide with realization. "You… you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re one of their… their plan.”

For just a second, something shadowy, something colder, flicked through his eyes; and with that flicker, somehow you knew you'd made a terrible mistake trusting him.

Steve Rogers, the cop smiled "I was hoping you'd come around sooner or later. You're a bit smarter than I thought," his voice was light, like he was discussing the weather. "However," a dangerous tremor lurked below his words. "Peggy always said you'd be the perfect addition - just like I was, just like she was."

You sprung back, your first instinct was to reach for the door handle, but before your brain could register what was happening, the vehicle shifted violently. Body flung against the door; your head crashed against the metal side with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind your eyes, and suddenly, everything muffled.

When you woke up from what felt like the worst sleep in your life, but you weren't sleeping, or did you just doze off and you couldn't remember any of it? Everything felt like a blur, memories were juggled up, and everything seemed out of place. How did I get here again? You thought to yourself.

It was strangely silent all around. The engine's rhythmic humming gave way to a stifling, heavy silence. You couldn't move. The air around you was thick and stifling; you had a throbbing headache that was likely to make you nauseous.

You couldn't even comprehend what was happening before you saw the door of the car opened, your whole-body weight made you fall off the vehicle. You audibly groaned as your body hit the rough dirty cement

Lo and behold, standing right in front of was Steve Rogers, towering above you, his face expressionless. His cold stare that piercing through your soul at you while your arms continued to adjust the sleeves of his uniform with a calm expertise.

He circled you as if he was predator cornering its prey. He stopped just at your head. He looked at you with an expressionless face, he slowly smiled, the creepy type of smile you would see psychopaths do on movies.

You wanted to run, punch him in the face and fucking run. But you couldn't, it felt as if your feet have already given up on you, plus the blooming pain in your head made it hard to think.

"It just never gets the job done" He frowned momentarily, your eyes widened in fear as you saw him take a beer bottle from behind his back, you shook your head, no please, please, please. You tried your best to crawl away from him, but you couldn't even feel your legs.

You sobbed in defeat, but he just caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away, as if to lure you into a false sense of security. With all the softness of a feather, he said, "You'll be fine," really more to reassure himself than you. "The ceremony's just waiting for you."

Before you can act, a hard bang on your head seems to lurch your stomach. The officer had swung a beer bottle at your skull; it hit with a sickening crack and within the instant the pain exploded into darkness pressing behind your eyes, and the world went black.

It was the scent of incense—sickeningly sweet and heavy enough to churn in the stomach. Candlelight flickered. shadows danced on stone walls, making the small space feel smaller by the second.

You woke up all lethargic with a blooming headache. You felt relaxed underneath the soft bed that you laid, but once you took in the stone walls, it felt like a train has hit you. All of the events from a few hours ago running you over.

Your mind raced, scrambling for an escape route, but all you saw was Peter standing between you and the door.

He never looked more like a stranger.

The once boyish charm which drew me to him was now a hollow mask as he hid himself behind his dark eyes. The face had no malignance—worse, it was soft, almost tender, like he really believed in what he was about to do. And that thought haunted me most terrifyingly.

"You are trembling," Peter said, his calm and soothing voice only making the fear spike higher. "I know it's a lot, really overwhelming, taking it all at once… but… it will be okay, I promise you."

"Peter, please," you whispered, your voice breaking into pieces at the seams. You could hardly utter a word without your throat choking it. "You don't have to do this. Let me out. I promise I won't tell the police—"

But that was where he cut you off by shaking his head sadly. "You don't understand. This is my home. It is where I belong. And now, it is where you belong too. We are part of something bigger here. Something meaningful."

"Meaningful?" you spat. "You kidnapped me, lied to me, and brought me here to…" The words cracked at the tightness in your throat. You couldn't even say them. I dawned onto you that you have been too trusting with Peer, but who wouldn't? Who knew that clumsy little sweet Peter was capable of doing something this fucked.

Peter stepped closer, casting a shadow over the too small room where it suddenly felt claustrophobic and anchoring. “I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

His voice is insistent, though not harsh. “You were lost out there. Alone. No family, no one who cared about you. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over, to have a purpose. To be loved.”

“Loved?” The word struck your lips like venom. “This isn’t love, Peter. This is… this is sick.”

It darkened slightly his countenance, as a spark of frustration crossed his face before it was replaced by forced patience. "You're scared," he softly pronounced. "That's normal. But fear does not last. Once you embrace your role, once you understand what we're building here, you'll see that it's not sick. It's beautiful."

“No,” you whispered, the soft sound swallowed by the thrumming of your heart. “No, this isn’t survival. This is—”

“But” Peter cut you off firmer now like a knife slicing through your protests. “It’s already decided. The village chose you. I chose you. And now… it’s time to fulfill your purpose.”

Peter looked at you, with a voice deceptively soft. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what the village needs. What I need. We can’t let our bloodline die. Every generation, we bring someone in—someone like you. It’s how we survive. How we thrive.”

“Not,” that voice barely came out through the rapid pounding of your heart. "No, this isn't survival. This is—"

The words sent the waves of nausea throbbing through you. Your knees buckled, landing you onto the edge of the bed, your body shaking violently. Peter knelt before you, hands gentle as they gripped your knees. The touch made your skin crawl, but you were frozen, paralyzed by fear.

"You are afraid," he repeated, the tone almost tender. "it needs to be this way. After the ceremony, you'll see there is clearly a need for it."

"Peter," you choked out, barely in a whisper. "Don't do this, please."

He tilted his head, softening in expression as if he really thought given how pitiful you look. "This is for them. For us. For the village. You'll thank me one day."

The door creaked open, and two women stepped in to the door. They moved with quiet, almost unnerving precision their white, long, and flowing robes covering the ground as they entered. Both had faces that seemed devoid of emotion—serene but cold as if they had performed this ritual hundreds of times before.

You instinctively tried to press yourself into the corner of the bed pulling down from Peter. “Who are they?” you asked unsure though your voice came out shaky and weak.

Peter turned toward the women; his posture casual almost welcoming. “They’re here to help,” he said softly as though the explanation should comfort you.

Help. The word in your stomach was like poison. You didn’t need help. You needed to escape.

One of the women carried a bowl filled with a dark unknown substance that shimmered strangely in the candle's light. She laid the bowl down on a small wooden table near the bed, her movements carefully controlled. The other carried a smaller cup with her fingers clutching tightly as she looked at you.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling as you shook your head. “I’m not drinking that.”

It’s just to help,” he said calmly. "You’ve been through so much. You lived so much. You’re shaking. You’re exhausted. This will relax you.”

“I don’t want to relax!” you cracked your voice rising in desperation. “I want to leave! Please, Peter, don’t do this!”

He sighed, as though disappointed but his patience did not waver. “I know you’re scared,” he said reaching out to hold his hand on your knee. “But this isn’t about fear. It’s about trust. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your stomach tilted and a cold wave of nausea was rolling over you. Why would he even ask that question? "Peter, you are not the person I thought you were. I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you anymore.”

Peter’s jaw tightened somewhat ever so slightly, as if flickering with guilt. Peter was the funny and clumsy guy you met at a party, but this Peter. You don't know which dimension he came from. But his guilt was immediately gone in an instant replaced by the same calm, unnervingly patient expression, accompanied with a reassuring smile that could've been comforting in different circumstances.

“It’s my fear. I think that can be said,” he said, his tone softening again. "Once you let go of this, you will see. You’ll feel better.”

He gestured toward the woman with the cup to reach closer to you. Her movements were graceful, fast rehearsed as she held the drinking. The cup itself was simple, wooden. But compared to what's inside looked nothing compared to ordinary. It was a dark murky brown with faint swirls of crimson that seemed to ripple on its own.

Your stomach churned at the sight of it, you wanted to gag at the thought of even coming in contact with that liquid, you said again "I won't drink that." Your voice barely above a whisper.

The woman didn’t respond. She held the cup in her hand, as if waiting for you drink it still.

Peter reached for your hand and firmly gripped on it, but not a forceful one. "It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. “This will help you. I promise.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, and the woman moved the cup closer to your lips. Panic rolled. Your heart began to beat, and tears were falling from your eyes. “No!” you shouted thrashing against Peter’s hold. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t let go. His strength was shocking and unyielding as he held your and instructed the woman to force the drink in your mouth. The dark liquid sloshed down the rim, spilling onto your trembling chin as you refused to open your mouth, moving your head back and forth so that you could just avoid the unknown and disgusting liquid.

“Please don’t fight this!” Peter shouted; his tone now laced with urgency and desperation. "It’s better if you just let it happen."

The woman tilted the cup and poured the thick liquid into your lips. You clenched your teeth, refusing to let it in. Peter’s hand moved to your jaw, his fingers pressing firmly until your mouth opened involuntarily. Liquid graced on your tongue, its taste vile and metallic like rotting herbs and rust.

You gagged and coughed violently as they forced you to swallow. The bitterness burned all the way down, leaving an acrid aftertaste that made you want to rip out your tongue, you fell on the bed as you gripped your throat—massaging your throat, a pathetic attempt to soothe the taste that felt like it travelled all the way down to your throat, it didn't have any burning sensation, it just felt like your throat had taste buds.

You convulsed on the bed, “What the- What was that?” you asked; out of breath as you tried to gasp for air.

Peter stood “You’re going to feel it soon,” he said, pushing a damp lock of hair off your brow.

It was a gentle warmth blooming in your chest, then outward like the bright afterglow from the strongest of drinks. Then it grew. It scorched through your veins, making your skin feel alive with a burst of tingling sensations. Your breaths came quicker as you kept trying to dismiss the feelings, but they just wouldn't listen.

“W-What is happening to me?” came the stammers from you in a trembling voice.

Peter knelt beside you again, touching your knee ever so lightly with his hand. “The elixir is working its magic on you,” he said kindly. “It allows you to let go. To free yourself to connect with what is meant to be.”

This warmth soon transformed into a more diabolical sensation, a slow burn that throbbed low in your stomach that stretched to your clothed womanhood. Suddenly every nerve ending on your skin was hypersensitive, sending a shiver down your spine against that crawl of fabric over your body. Heart racing, but it was hardly with fear.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t right.”

Peter merely smiled all the wider and relaxed his squeeze on your shoulder. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said. “Your body is just responding. It’s natural.”

While your mind was telling you every reason to fight it off, your body would have none of it. That heat, the damn heat; it clouded everything snuffing off every thought but that strange feeling growing in you.

Peter leaned in closer as he whispered “This is how it’s supposed to be. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.”

Your brain screamed against this intrusion, invoking all the force it could muster to reject it, to reject him. But your limbs felt heavy, thick, sluggish, as though they had been clapped into a steel frame. The drug took effect, you loathed it and wished to deny the dull calling of unwanted pleasure.

"Please," you managed to whisper, letting your tears flow down your cheeks. "Don't do this."

In every way this was wrong. You didn't want to partake in this, you wanted out. Peter was not the person you thought he would. Maybe he was before all of this, but not now.

Peter held your face with both his hands—gentle yet firm. "It's been done," he said, pinning his gaze on yours with steady resolve.

The heat had become unbearable; it drummed against your thoughts and created ceilings that pressed down on you. You could hardly breathe, each breath barely manageable since all control was lost over thoughts revolving around him. The very touch of him inflamed every nerve in your body.

Peter continued to lean forward until the distance separating your two faces became almost nonexistent. The darkness of his brown eyes was rendered soft, for all that, it was chillingly out of place now. "You're trembling," he said softly, his voice dipping with mock concern as he brushed his palm over your damp forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long.

You turned your head away, yet your body was heavy and unwilling to cooperate. "P-please," you whispered, not even sure what it was you were begging for at this point—mercy, some distance, anything but this.

Peter's hand slid down again to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek. The warmth of his touch felt like additional treachery against your body, which leaned into his hand, once again, even though the screams of your mind were saying otherwise. "Shh," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing pitch. "It's okay. You're safe here. With me."

His words twisted a knife that lodged in your heart, and you were still trying to find a protest when his other hand clamped on your waist—gentle yet firm. Just enough pressure was applied to make acutely aware of every detail of your closeness: the scent of wood smoke and something faintly sweet, flooding your senses and drowning all your composure.

"You've had to fight for so long," he said; there was almost a tenderness in his voice. "Let it go—let me take care of you."

You shook your head weakly, your lips parting to say no words that would come. Everything in you resisted, heavily dulled by the drug that now crumbled your defenses and left you helpless to bask in warmth blossoming in your chest and the sickening affinity of Peter's presence.

He angled his face, gazing down at you as the thumb of his right hand traced the curve of your jaw. "So beautiful," he murmured, almost a whisper. "Yet you don't even see it? You are something else—so special."

The tears that had built up in your eyes crashed down, scalding lines down your cheeks. "Please," you said again, but it came almost like a feeble whisper, your power to protest fractured.

Peter leaned forward, and his breath ghosted over your lips. "I've waited for this," he murmured, as though revealing a secret. "Waited for you. I thought I would never even have a chance with you since you were so fucking smitten with your dick of a boyfriend. But you're mine now,"

And before you could think, hit him back or convince him otherwise, his lips crushed against yours.

The kiss was languid, purposeful, and claiming. His mouth flowed with an unsettling confidence, an almost eerie manifestation of such rehearsed movement, if it existed at all. You wanted to break apart from him and scream and fight him, but your body let you down one last time; it was folded under the drug and against the full force of his presence.

His hands moved, one remained cradling your face, while the other tightened at your waist as a gentle reminder that you belonged nowhere else. It was a kiss more claiming than forceful, a silent proclamation of his ownership over you.

He finally pulled away but only to press his forehead to yours, feeling warm against your skin. "It's time" he whispered, it was loud enough for the women to hear. They immediately scurried out of the room and closed the door on their way out.

Before even asking what was going on, Peter attacked your neck. You shrieked at his sudden actions. He kissed, licked, and bite every single portion of your neck.

Peter's hot tongue licked your skin as he leaned closer, lips barely grazing the curve of your neck. A shiver made its way down your spine as he softly sucked on the sensitive flesh, forming this sweet vacuum that made your heart stand still.

Peter kept on kissing and nibbling at your neck, fueling his excitement that grew hotter like a fire, determined to engulf you both. His hands tightened around your waist, drawing you closer as he deepened the kiss, lips and tongue moving together in a dance that spoke both pleasure and pain.

You winced; you want nothing more but for this to end. You tried to imagine yourself in another scenario, a happy one. That one time where Harry bought you this wonderful necklace for your one-year anniversary. Things were still calm, peaceful.

You were so deep in thought that the ripping sound of fabric made you flinch. You have realized that Peter has ripped off your thin graphic t-shirt, leaving nothing but your bra on full display for him. But of course, the bra didn't stay on for long.

He ripped your bra off you with such force. He threw the bra elsewhere, that was the least of his worries as your he saw your mounds with all its glory. Blood rushed up to his cock at the sight of you half naked and slightly damp from sweat. You on the other hand just wanted nothing more but all of this to end.

Peter leaned in, his lips grazing your skin down to the soft curve of your delicate breast. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and he started to suckle; the soft gentle tug sent a jolt of sensation radiating through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets as you let out a shriek.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment" His words came in muffled since he was still stuffing his face with your breasts, but you heard it loud and clear. How blind were you? Peter has been lusting over you, longer than you even met him, how come you never realized it? All the warning signs were there, but they were subtle, now they're just coming to light now that it was too late.

He had grown more daring now, sucking, kissing, and licking every inch of your breasts. He nibbled and sucked at the curves, gently biting the flesh around them. Meanwhile, his hands traveled all over her torso, cupping and squeezing dear breasts as if to remember every contour.

"So beautiful," he whispered in between kisses. "Perfect. Mine." Those words sent a shuddering chill up your spine.

Peter stared into your eyes while he was sucking and nibbling on your breasts. They would have been a sweet sight if the present state of affairs were any different.

He released your nipple from his mouth, as drool connected from his lips to your erect nipples.

With urgent impatience, Peter fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and then tore it off, revealing a sculpted torso that demanded attention. The muscles of his torso flexed while he moved, and for a second, you could not help but look at the sheer grace and control that radiated off his body.

Now, Peter had long ceased to be interested in himself; he was now concentrating all his energy and attention on you. The moment he grabbed hold of your pants, and his fingers had clasped tightly around the waistband, panic ran through you at the sight of him pulling down on them. You didn't want to give in, not now, not ever.

Your hands went straight up to push against him; you punched at his chest with all the remaining strength that you have that wasn't stripped off by the drug. Your fruitless attempt on trying to gain some space between your bodies.

"Peter, no," you said, your voice wavering but earnest. "I don't want to. Please!"

His eyes never left the prize, and nothing was going to stop him. He yanked your pants down, regardless of how you kicked and thrashed against the force with which he was pulling. Your underwear met the cool air.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized that Peter was staring down at the small scrap of fabric that barely covered you in your most intimate area.

He wrapped his fingers around your underwear's waistband. You tried to squirm away from him, but he held you tight, his grip like a vice. In one swift motion, he ripped the fabric from your body, leaving you completely bare.

Peter's eyes had wandered across every inch of your naked body, you tried to look away from him, but your face was met with a wet pillow, you didn't even notice that you have let out a few tears.

Peter dove on to your crotch and his warm breath rolled over your sensitive skin like a wave of fire. His tongue flicked out as he suckled at your clit, and involuntarily, jolts of electricity pulsed up your spine. You attempted to push him off you once more, but Peter was far too strong

Peter continued his assault on your pussy, you felt a familiar sensation happening. You shook your head as your body betrayed you. Peter seemed to notice this, "There she is"

Before you knew it, he inserted a finger in your hole as he continuously licked your clit with such vigor.

You let out a strangled moan as your hand flew to his hair. Peter smirked at this as he slowly fucked you with his finger, which was a stark contrast to his tongue who ravished you like you were his last meal

"God, such a tasty pussy" He murmured, which just sent vibrations to your pussy. He continued, his tongue circles your clit, licking and sucking on it like he can't get enough. "Good lil fuckin pussy" He moaned as if he's the one getting head.

He continues to lap on your juices, slurping any arousal seeping through as if he hadn't drunk water in many years.

His voice low and soft, whispering how good it is, how perfect your sweet pussy was for him. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sweet—so good for me. God, I'm so glad your mine now." He kisses it so passionately, muttering praises to it while his tongue laps you up.

And as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, you felt a building pressure inside yourself. It felt like every nerve ending had been ignited by Peter’s ministrations.

Your legs stiffened, your hips jerked upwards, and your entire body began to tremble with anticipation.

With such joy and pain, you felt like you were seeing stars right in front of you. The intensity was too much to bear as your grip on Peter's hair tightened

That instant when the knot finally snapped and a deluge of pure, harmless ecstasy engulfed you, your body contorted, muscles oscillating and contracting rhythmically; an intense orgasm swooping upon you like a tempest.

Your legs stiffened and your toes curled in pleasure. You clutched at anything and everything. Peter's hair, bed linen, anything to hold on to the threads of reality, as everything before your eyes dissolved into an ocean of forced bliss.

River of tears were falling from your eyes. You couldn't help but reminiscence your time with Harry. For the first years you were together with Harry, he was sweet and loving, even if your relationship has turned sour after Harry found another hobby, he would never force himself inside you. When you had sex, it was always consensual.

With the final ripples of the orgasm fading away, Peter finally pulled his head from between your legs. His gaze brushed over you with a kind of possessive pride, and he took the disarray of your body in the messy fondle of your hair, the daze that lingered from where he brought you so close to the edge that you fell over it, and the slick of sweat glistening over your skin.

“You look tired,” Peter said with a soft almost guilty tone, "But I'm afraid that that was just to prepare you, were just beginning"

When those words came out his mouth you shook your head as you begged him, "Please Pete, please" You sobbed, your words barely even intelligible.

"Shhhhhhhh" He shushed you, "The more your accepting, the sooner this will end" No, you didn't want to accept this, there must be another way, there must be.

As he stood up and took off his pants, exposing his erect cock. His cock slightly bounced once the boxers were fully off of him. He climbed on top you as both of you were now fully naked as the day you were born.

"The bedding ceremony is about to begin” Peter said, low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “It's going to hurt, but I think I prepped you enough”

He then aligned his cock to your slit. You gasped as his bulbous tip entered you, he wasn't big, but he was thick. He slowly pushed his cock inch by inch inside you, your sensitive flesh was still sore from the previous orgasm.

Peter suddenly thrusted deep inside you, fully losing patience, with a forcefulness that took your breath away. His cock touching your cervix when he bottomed inside you, it felt almost painful how intense it was.

“Please, Peter,” you pleaded, attempting to push him away. "You're hurting me."

But Peter just smiled at you, it gave you tingling shudders through your spine. “That's the first step of the ceremony” he said, pulling out then plunging back in. “You just have to learn to accept what I’m giving you, if you learn maybe Goddess will reward you"

His relentless cock was battering your insides, and you were starting to tear up. It was nearly unbearable agony; the pleasure was subtle that you could barely even get the gist of it, the searing warmth that burned itself into your very essence.

“Stop,” you said again, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "Please just stop."

Through the pain and the fear, you never lost hope. So you fought back with a passion you never had before.

Your hands raked Peter’s chest, ripping at his skin to the point he grunted in surprise. Your fingers sank into his skin, but he only chuckled—a sound that was hollow and empty.

Unfazed, you fought on. Your teeth dug into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to make him hiss. But even as he grimaced, he wouldn’t stop — his hips pumping a relentless rhythm, one that threatened to swallow you whole.

You swung your fists, punching into Peter's face and chest with a frenzied abandon. Forced down in front of him as he sunk his cock deep within your needy hole, you tried to twist away, to squirm free as he held you in place, the weight of his body pinning your hands above your head, forcing you to take this.

And you tried, even though it was entirely pointless. You kicked your legs to try and buck him off you. But he was too heavy — too powerful — and he laughed again as he kept your legs pinned down beneath him.

With each thrust Peter grew more aggressive; almost brutal the heat inside you was burning you up; threatening to consume all reason and make you numb.

You were lost in the agonizing bliss, as Peter's cock continued its merciless assault on your insides. The fire in your belly grew more intense, it felt like it was spreading through your insides like wildfire.

"God, you're squeezing me so hard" Peter breathed as his thrusts slowed down just a little bit.

Yet whilst you sensed you were in pieces on the inside, that you were toppling apart, something in you relished it. It felt like your body had turned against you, reacting to the vicious attack with a disgusting cocktail of agony and pleasure.

Peter thrusts forward and you felt your hips bucking in time with his, your mind spinning in horror. It was like your body had created its own consciousness that responded immediately to the arousal with animal instinct that couldn't be suppressed.

You were losing yourself in the sensations, being sucked into a world both dark and depraved, where no line could be drawn between pain and pleasure. It was the most terrifying feeling in the world, when you wondered if you would ever find a way out of the grip of this monster who was responsible for everything.

With every thrust, Peter became more aggressive, more brutal - You could feel yourself losing control; teetering on edge, ready to plunge headfirst into unknown; uncertainty ignited both fear and anticipation.

Your breaths were coming in small gasps now as Peter gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like a vice. You attempted to move; attempted to wriggle against him—but it was futile: he was too strong

This friction just poured gasoline into the flames that had been raging within you—turning those pleasurable sensations into unbearable ones. The edge of your sight blurs out; stars dance along the border of your vision as the world narrows down on a single point of focus: Peter

In pure ecstasy moment you found yourself surrendering, submitting to the wave pleasure that is tearing up your body. Its fear inducing and freeing sensation — like leaping off a precipice without a net — not knowing what awaits at the base.

The world went white and quiet. You hear Peters voice in your ear whispering "Come for me" and with that your body explodes into thousand pieces

You weren't sure what happened, your mind all fogged and your pussy sore. The only thing you have noticed was that Peter was still thrusting inside you.

He leaned as he whispered the most haunting words into your ear, "I almost feel bad for you. I guess you should always follow what your parents says, don't trust strangers"

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

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27spoons · 6 months ago

Text

Feeling Myself | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: Your best friend's been ignoring you since you hooked up a few days ago. Determined to speak with her again, you decide to visit her in the changing rooms after a soccer game. What's the worst that happens?

pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

warnings: porn/what plot, smut (afab!reader), slightly ooc nat (in the name of porn), no proofreading we die like jackie

a/n: this shit corny asf LMAOOOO (this is a "what-if" from part two.) (also see: i had a thought while writing part two. this is 90% smut.) (this is also 10x as crude as the previous smut I've done sorry not sorry)

wc: 3430

[you don't need to read either part to read this.]

part one / part two

A quick recap of the events that took place the past week.

You slept with your best friend at a party. Your best friend who happens to be knee-deep in denial when it comes to her sexuality. She's been avoiding you like the plague since then. You've just finished watching her play a soccer game, and now you're awkwardly standing outside the locker rooms.

Great. Recap over.

Okay, thirty minutes is overkill, especially for Nat, who typically likes getting in and out as fast as possible. Sure, maybe you'd spend thirty minutes in a shower at home, but in a public place? With the floors that definitely have bacteria on them that could kill a Victorian child?

That's practically a carnal sin.

You aren't sure why you're steeling yourself; I mean… odds are she just left through the other entrance, right? And it's not like you aren't allowed in this change room, it's just the general change room for the school facilities…

Whatever.

You stand up straight and throw the door open to the changing room, not that surprised to find it completely empty—save for the sound of a shower running in the back of the space. Realistically, if it is Nat, you should probably let her finish her shower. You don't really know where the two of you stand right now, and intruding on a shower hardly seems like a good time to find out. And, if it isn't Nat, intruding on a shower would be a really, really bad idea.

Still, you decide to investigate further.

Quietly making your way toward the shower stalls, you glance around and look for anything that could give you an idea about whoever it is, showering and praying to whatever God there is that it's Nat and not some random stranger.

When you reach the benches in front of the stalls, you let out a relieved breath you didn't even realise you were holding—you'd recognize those combat boots anywhere.

Is confronting her while she's in the shower the most intelligent idea? No. But honestly? You're more than a little frustrated and pretty sure that she'll continue to avoid you unless you do something now.

So, you do the mature thing, much like she did.

You storm to the front of the stall and bang on the door, "Natalie?!" You call out, voice slightly shaky at the idea that it might not be her after all.

A long, tense moment of silence passes after you speak, save for the sound of water hitting the tiles below. You start to panic, worrying that you really did just knock on a stranger's shower stall, scaring the everliving shit out of—

"Are you fucking kidding me?" A voice, unmistakenly belonging to a certain Natalie Scatorccio, rings out over the sounds of the shower, "You couldn't fucking… wait until I wasn't fucking showering?!"

"You've been avoiding me!" You yell back, "What the fuck was I supposed to do? You haven't been showing up to class, you've been avoiding my calls… I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" She yells back, "Maybe wait for me to come to you when I'm ready to talk, ideally not when I'm in the fucking shower?!"

"Yeah, well…" You mutter, realising that… yeah… maybe this wasn't the best time, but you're already here! There's no backing down now! "That's not the point!" You eventually continue, "Why have you been avoiding me since Friday night?"

She doesn't respond for a long moment.

"Well?" You scoff, calling over the water, "Natalie? Are you gonna answer me—"

The stall door flings open, revealing a very naked and very wet Natalie Scatorccio.

Your jaw drops. Sure, you saw her naked during the night of the party, but this is much different. She looks very upset with your sudden appearance, and for a moment, when she draws her hand back, you worry she's about to clock you in the jaw. And, honestly? You'd probably deserve it.

What you aren't expecting, however, is her to grab the back of your head and mash your lips against hers, all tongue and teeth.

It's only a moment's hesitation before you return the kiss, and she's drawing you back into the shower stall. "We better be alone," Natalie murmurs, tugging your hoodie off and over your head as it begins to soak through. "I'm not about to have one of the girls walk in on this."

"No, uh, yeah, we're alone." You stammer out, kicking off your shoes and pants, "I wouldn't have caused a scene if there were still people in here—"

"Good." Nat breathes out as she tugs you into the shower's spray, despite the fact you haven't even gotten the chance to remove your underwear yet. "Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about this." And her lips are back against yours, free hand immediately moving to find purchase between your thighs, fingers rubbing you through the damp fabric. (Which, you'll note, is now damp for more than one reason.)

"Holy fuck—" A shaky exhale parts from your lips, your head falling back to hit the shower wall, one hand attempting to find some sort of grip on the wall while the other grasps uselessly at her wrist, "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to you in the time we weren't talking?" You ask breathlessly, hips pushing into her hand.

"I spent a lot of time thinking about this." She murmurs, fingers pushing the soaked fabric aside and pushing two fingers through your slick folds, teasing the length of your slit for a few moments before she quickly sinks two fingers into the wet heat at the apex of your thighs.

"F-fuck—" A full-body shiver rakes through your form as your back arches off the wall, a shocked gasp leaving your lips once she starts fucking her fingers into you with reckless abandon. "Jesus Christ—" "You seem to be saying his name a lot. Last I checked, it's my fingers inside of you and not his." She says with a smug grin, resting her free hand on the wall next to your head. "Unless you got really religious in the past few days."

"Asshole." You grunt out, nails digging into her wrist as you desperately roll your hips against her hand, "You are knuckle deep inside me, and I'm not about to just start saying your full name—"

"No." She cuts you off, "But you could just say Natalie."

"That's not—" She cuts you off when she stretches you further with a third finger, and you're almost positive her wrist has to be cramping with the angle it's at, but she shows zero signs of stopping or slowing down. "—the point—" You stammer out, eyes screwing shut as squelching sounds from her fingers fucking your pussy manage just to be loud enough to be heard over the rush of water beating against the porcelain.

"No, you're right. The point is that you shouldn't be thinking of anyone else while I'm the one inside of you."

If there was something you expected Nat to say, that was not it, but you can't help the way you clench around her fingers at the comment.

"Oh, shit." A low laugh spills from her throat, "You like that, huh? When I'm all possessive? Didn't realise you'd be into that sorta stuff."

"Fuck off." You mutter, "I've never heard you get possessive before. It's kinda hot."

"Yeah? Guess I'll have to keep that in mind." Her palm grinds hard into your clit as her fingers brush against that spot inside of you that has your hips bucking and losing the rhythm you had found. "Oh. That was a fun spot." Nat murmurs to herself, "I liked that. Let's do it again."

So, she does. She presses her fingers right against that spot with every flick of her wrist, and you can't help but wonder how the fuck she became so damn good at this when at times, it felt like she barely had two brain cells to rub together that night of the party—

Shit, you didn't even notice the fact she was trailing her lips along the hollow of your throat, tongue collecting the water that streams down your body from your face. "Nat—" You gasp when you feel her teeth bite at your jaw, "Shit—"

"Mm, yeah." You can feel her grin against your throat, "See? Knew you had it in you to say my name. Just needed some gentle encouragement, is all."

You can't even form coherent thoughts at this point. You aren't sure what turns you on more: doing this in a public place where anyone could walk in and hear the deplorable things currently transpiring, the fact that Nat seems to be eager to have you like this, the way her lips trace along your neck reverently, or her completely making you forget the whole reason you walked into the changing rooms to begin with.

Nat spends some time alternating between the stretch of three fingers and the ruthless pace of two, occasionally completely retracting her fingers in favour of circling your clit with the pads of her index and middle before sinking them back in.

"You, fuck, I'm close." You stammer out the next time she sinks her fingers back into the tight heat, "Don't fucking stop—"

She shakes her head against your neck, "Not stopping." A shaky exhale, and you start to feel her hips rolling against your thigh, "Not stopping until I feel you fucking come around my fingers."

Your eyes roll back into your head at the words that fall from her lips, and you find yourself gripping her arm again for support. "Oh, holy fuck, Natalie—"

With a stuttering movement of your hips against the heel of her palm, you find yourself crashing into a climax that you were not expecting to get right in the fucking changing rooms.

And, despite how you clench around her fingers and your knees buckle slightly, Nat doesn't even stop. Not for half a second. The crude sounds of her fingers fucking your spasming pussy at breakneck speed don't slow, and your head thrashes back and forth against the wall, "Nat, fuck, wait—"

"No." She hisses into the side of your neck, biting at the skin, "I'm not done yet."

Thank causes a broken groan to slip from your lips as her fingers press against that one spot over and over again to the point the edges of your vision start to turn fuzzy amid the ecstasy. "F-fuck, I just came—"

"I know." She growls out, fingers seemingly plunging in deeper to your tight heat with every thrust of her wrist, "And I want you to come again."

"Oh." You exhale, eyes screwing shut again, "Oh…"

Nat grins at your breathless sounds, "Yeah, baby. Like that." Three fingers, "Fuck, love how tight you feel around my fingers. How fucking wet you are for me." "We're, ah, in a shower. Of course, I'm wet—"

She bites down on your neck particularly harshly at your words, "Shut up. You know that isn't what I fucking meant."

"N-no, but it's funny—"

You barely even register it when Nat drops to her knees before you, bringing one of your legs over her shoulder, "God, shut up."

And, well, you don't get a chance to speak again before she's burying her face against your heat, fingers continuing in their harsh movements as her tongue attaches itself to your clit, swirling around and sucking at the nub.

One of your hands immediately finds itself tangled in her blonde hair, the other trying to hold your body up against the stall wall behind you, which proves… to be a hard enough task on its own, given that the walls are slick with water and smooth.

"Oh, fuck—" You hiss out, tugging slightly on her hair, "Shit, give me a second—"

Nat doesn't. She doesn't stop or slow, either. Hell, she doesn't even humour you with a response, just choosing to focus on her task at hand: making you come again.

It's slightly embarrassing how quickly you're right back on the precipice of an orgasm. You'd probably be mortified if you could form thoughts other than "yes" and "please."

You swear you can feel the way Nat smirks against you as she wraps her lips around your clit, creating a suction that has a full-body shudder raking through you and—

…

Even Nat has to stop for half a second when she feels you come again, less than a minute after the first one. "Fuck." She breathes out, looking up at you with her jaw slightly slack, fingers still buried inside of you. "Did you just…?"

Realistically, you could lie. But you get the feeling this is a hypothetical question.

"I… I told you I needed a second…" Comes your stammered response, "That's… I'm not… I don't… it's just…"

A dark chuckle leaves Nat's mouth as she removes your leg from her shoulder, ensuring you can stand properly before she rises back to her feet, "Mmn, I'm not mad. If anything, it's kinda flattering."

You scowl slightly at her, "What-whatever."

You decide it's her turn, now.

As fast as you can move without slipping on the tile, you pin Natalie to the wall in your place, lips finding her neck, tracing up the path of a water droplet with your tongue, then further up still until your lips are back on hers.

One of Nat's hands comes to rest on your shoulder, the other tangling itself into your hair as your kiss grows more and more heated. Although it's a little tricky to do with the slick walls, you spread her thighs slightly and press your knee up between them, encouraging her to grind down onto your leg. It's your turn to smirk now, finding some sort of pleasure in the way she immediately presses her pussy against you, hips rocking with urgency.

"Yeah," You grunt against her lips, "like that. Keep doing that." The blonde whimpers back, grinding herself faster, "Please." She breathes out, "I need more."

"What?" You chuckle, "Sorry, I didn't get that. Mind saying that again?"

She slaps your shoulder, "Stop being such a fucking tease, asshole. What do you want me to say? That I want your fingers inside of me?"

You grin, "Yeah. That works, actually." One of your hands runs down the flat of her stomach, two fingers run across her folds, not quite delving into the warmth between them. "But the begging is a little hot."

"I'm not going to beg." She immediately answers, "If you aren't gonna fuck me, I'll find someone else to do it."

Your jaw tenses immediately at the comment, and you aren't quite sure if it's jealousy or something else, but the very idea of that pisses you off to no end. "No the fuck you aren't." You hiss out, sinking your index and middle finger into her cunt without another word, earning you a keening sound. "I'm the only person doing this to you tonight."

"God, yes." She almost moans out the words, "Harder."

A scoff, but you oblige her anyway, turning two fingers to three and fucking them into her faster, grinding your palm into her as the digits move, and Nat doesn't think she's ever been more grateful for someone with long fingers.

She presses her tongue back against yours, using the hand that's tangled in your hair to guide your mouth where she wants it—against hers.

The press of your lips against yours makes the movements of your hand slow momentarily, but you quickly recover your speed when Nat tugs at the hair on the nape of your neck, reminding you that there's an end goal to this.

"Mm, my bad." You murmur, pressing a chaste kiss to the edge of her lips, "Your mouth is very distracting."

Nat rolls her eyes, "Yeah? Then maybe you should be somewhere it won't distract you." A half-grin twitches itself onto her lips, and the hand on your shoulder presses down, "On your knees, ideally."

"Just say you want me to eat you out." You lower yourself onto one knee, "Saying what you want is hot." Nat grins down at you and runs her fingers through your hair as you get down on your other knee, "Don't need to say what I want. You're already doing it."

You roll your eyes at her as you press some gentle kisses to her inner thighs, humming when she parts them for you. "Maybe." A small nip to the soft skin, "But I do enjoy you telling me what to do."

"Oh, yeah? What, you into being dominated?" She laughs lowly, "Interesting. I'll have to keep that in mind."

"You say that like you plan on doing this again." You take one of her legs and hoist it over your shoulder, pausing a beat, then taking the other leg and repeating the motion. "Do you plan on doing this again?" Nat gasps when you have her sit on your shoulders, fingers tightening in your hair, "Fuck, you keep pulling shit like this, and I just might keep doing it."

A grin graces your lips, "That so? Guess I'll have to keep you coming back." A chaste kiss to her clit, then you're delving your tongue into her cunt, greedily slurping at the wetness that's collected between her legs.

Your fingers dig into the meat of her thighs, holding her against your face, encouraging her to squeeze your head like a goddamn watermelon. You could, quite honestly, die happy with your head where it is right now.

Nat is rolling her hips against your face, your nose brushing against her clit as your face remains buried in her pussy, obscene sounds echoing against the walls, and you aren't even sure when the shower clicked off, but you are aware that it makes the two of you much more audible.

You'd pull your head back to tell her or move one of your hands to swat at the button to turn the water back on, but you get the feeling she could care less how audible what's transpiring between the two of you is.

So, you try to put that into the back of your mind, letting the sounds of your mouth against her and Nat's broken gasps act as fuel for the way you fuck her with your tongue.

It's a handful of minutes before her breathing becomes more stuttered, her grip on your hair starts to hurt slightly, and you don't think she would let you up for air if your face were literally turning blue, but that's okay.

In fact, it's more than okay, considering you feel her pussy pulsate around your tongue as a whimpering moan breaks from her throat, hips continuing to rock against your face for a few more seconds before ceasing.

"Fuck." Her fingers run through your hair, as if serving an apology for the way she was tugging on it. "You're fucking good at that." You shoot a lazy grin up at her through between her thighs, which were effectively acting as earmuffs. "I aim to please. Happy that my goal was met."

Her head falls back against the wall as she laughs, "Yeah. Now, put me down."

"Mm, sure you can stand?" You tease, nipping at her thigh again.

"Positive, asshole." She rolls her eyes fondly, "Let me off."

A dramatic sigh parts from your lips, but you relent and help her get her feet back on the ground, "Fine, fine." You stand back at your full height, looking down at her slightly as you lean against the wall, "But I really wasn't done yet."

"Yeah, well, I was. I'm not in the mood to get caught by someone in here." She shoves your shoulder, causing you to take a step away from her. "We both got off."

You click your tongue, "Seriously? C'mon. Don't be like that…"

"We can get off more later."

"Oh?" You quirk an eyebrow, "That mean I'm coming back to your dorm?"

"Well. That was fun." Nat ignores the question, pushing off the wall and hitting the shower button again. "Now. I need to finish showering. You staying or leaving?"

You scoff, "Staying, I guess." You spare a glance down at your soaked clothes, "Gonna be soaked the whole walk home, anyway. Not in the mood for that walk."

She laughs deliciously, "Oh, trust me; if I have anything to say about it? You'll be soaked at home, too."

A beat. "And you said my dirty talk was terrible."

a/n: ok NOW crush act two part one next fr fr

619 notes · View notes

xo2dee · 10 months ago

Text

🗨️ SWEET TOOTH

PAIRING: Choso/Reader. WARNINGS: Fluff. WORD COUNT: 1,003. SUMMARY: As sweet as he was, your boyfriend really couldn't cook to save his life.

A/N: never written for choso but i wanted to start with something little and hopefully something thats not ass. also i like to hc that he'd be a terrible cook ngl lmao. hope you enjoy!

JJK MASTERLIST

“Um…”

Not your most eloquent response, but you supposed it could match the… delicacy of the situation.

By your side you felt him move, his shoulder bumping against your own as he shifted on his feet at your mumble and ducked his head lower to put his ear closer to your mouth. You could almost feel the sweat lining your forehead, his dark eyes boring into the side of your face as you fought to keep a straight face and stared pointedly at the… ‘food’ in front of you. It was hard not to laugh, your lips quivering and stomach knotting in a ball from holding your breath for so long, but the last thing you wanted to do was hurt your fairly new boyfriend’s feelings.

Even if he couldn’t cook a damn thing to save his life.

(No way Yuji lived with him like that… Either he cooked, or he was eating out every night.)

In your peripherals you eyed Choso for his body language. It was clear he was eager for your answer; perhaps a little praise here and there for his ‘astounding’ cooking expertise, but you weren’t oblivious to the anxious undertones he was permitting as well. It was almost like he knew he fucked up, but he wanted you to give it to him easy, so he didn’t have to come to terms that you and Yuji possible grinned and bared it every time he made something for the either of you two (and you didn’t even want to think about Eso and Kechizu. God they probably scarfed the shit down while Yuji’s stomach fought for its life).

Though looking at the dessert he made…

Choso’s finger dug into your side, effectively cutting off any more mental insults you could throw at the food, and he poked you twice in the hip while latching onto your belt loop, “You’re just standing there staring at it.”

Well, what could you say? “I’m just in awe how you cooked something that looks so good.” Something along the lines of that would butter him up.

Choso sighed, “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.” Or not.

You dared a glance at him, sucking in your lips at the dejected pout and longing gaze at the hockey pucks he created out of cookie dough, before relaxing your shoulder and leaning into him, “I mean it. Just a tad overdone –” he shot you a withering look, making you laugh sheepishly – “we can just throw it in the microwave to soften them up a bit.” You really didn’t want to lose any teeth, and Choso had such pretty ones you didn’t want him to lose those either.

The side-eye you were receiving was uncalled for in your opinion, and he was gazing at your face for a rather long time to gauge the expression (and see through your lies) on your face before he scowled and looked back at the mess. Part of you wanted to reassure him, knowing he really did try his hardest, but other part of you didn’t want to lie straight to his face and save yourselves both a future mess on your hands for lying. Honestly, it wasn’t a huge deal, but Choso also looked so sad… like a little baby panda sad…

You went to reassure him (truthfully that time), yet at that moment your boyfriend uncurled his fingers from your belt loop, took one of the hockey – cookies and promptly banged it against the counter in a sound so deafening it promptly stopped the words on your tongue as you both stared.

“…”

You both stood in silence for a moment, and then – “Wow, it’s so hard not a single crumb fell off.”

Choso sighed – again – and grumbled something under his breath while scratching the back of his head, “You hate it.”

Your eyebrows rose, fingers curling around his wrist to throw his arm over your shoulder as you fought off another laugh from his behavior, “I don’t hate it. It’s just… you burnt them.” Leaning further into him whenever Choso finally relaxed, you began to pull on his cheek and relish in the tint turning a charming shade of red, “Plus I think it’s sweet you wanted to make me cookies.”

He hummed, eyelashes fluttering and lips twitching as he avoided your eyes to showcase his embarrassment, “It’s been three months since we started dating.”

Your heart and stomach flipped timeously, still not used to Choso’s blunt attitude when it came to expressing parts of his feelings for you. He was still rather reserved in some instances, but more often did he leave you speechless when he decided to openly show his affection for you in ways that didn’t involve any physical intimacy. You couldn’t blame him for trying, but you did want to get away from the burnt cookie smell…

“So sentimental,” you teased, giving his cheek one more pinch before guiding him back to the couch where popcorn and a movie you had planned awaited, “Let’s just stick to this tonight. Maybe one day we can make cookies together… so they don’t burn.”

He answered you through a squeeze with his hand, following you dutifully and at ease from your suggestion. Though as you flicked through possible movies to watch, you couldn’t help but tease him a little more.

“How did you forget they were in oven?”

“I don’t think I set the timer.”

“I mean it happens to all of us.”

“…They could be edible –”

“No.”

“No, I mean – I think Eso and Kechizu might eat them.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Though it’s a wonder how they’re still alive if you were cooking for them the entire time.”

“I can cook some things, even Yuji says so.”

“Yes, the Yuji who eats takeout almost every night. Imagine what’d he say if he saw –"

Choso’s fingers found your lips, pinching them together and effectively shutting you up as he decided on a movie himself and not having to hear your mouth.

#{🩸} nee fics #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kasien #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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peppertoastuniverse · 10 months ago

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more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 5: mandarin

contents: gojo Satoru x reader, FLUFF , satoru being a little shit, 2 idiots summary: when you consistently ignore gojo’s frequent texts to hang out, he takes matters into his own hands wc: 3.2k

“whoa, didn’t expect you to fall for me like this,” he says, feeling his laughter through his chest, breathing life into the dark corners of your cavity. it was too much. he was always too much. regaining your senses, you squawk out of embarrassment, concrete realization of where you were in the form of his thumb moving back and forth on your side, a half hearted attempt to soothe you. self consciousness fuelling your uncoordinated limbs you scramble to separate yourself from him.

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

ding. ding. it only took two impatient sounds to disturb your peace. slightly groaning as you hear the echoing source of your current pain: your phone. ever since gojo got a hold of your number it like was like his grating voice was constantly in your head. he constantly texted you, blowing up your phone about anything and everything. from what he swore was the best daifuku in Tokyo he discovered last week, or complaining about how unfair it was that ieri kicked him out of her room again or sending you photos of him post mission, peace signs prominent with a cheery grin while geto was in the background back turned, hunched over presumably throwing up from a particular nasty curse he had to ingest - gojo never failed to message you.

for the most part you didn’t respond to gojo’s constant messages, but that didn’t deter him, if anything it prompted him to text you even more. in your eyes, it was only a matter of time before he would get tired of you - you were just waiting for him to realise what you knew was going to happen. it was a reason why you kept your walls so high, you enjoyed the safety and predictability of the darkness and satoru gojo was too bright.

turning back to your desk you pick up your discarded pen, twirling it in your hands absentmindedly. how long have you been at this? probably 3 hours at least. you quickly skim through his messages while you regather your papers together.

gojo: hehe look at this (2:13pm) [image] (2:13pm)

you open the attachment begrudgingly, the unopened image taunting you, peaking your curiosity. it was a blurry photo of an annoyed geto, mouth open probably cussing gojo out, violet eyes flashing in warning looking beyond the camera with his arms attempting to grab the phone from him. his dark bangs frame his face as usual but the rest of his dark hair was pulled into two high messy pigtails. snorting in amusement, you download the image - ah a new treasure. sometimes gojo could be useful. you return to the message thread, seeing a flow of multiple messages.

gojo: bbbbbb <3 (4:03pm) im booooored booooooooooored lets hangggg (6:04pm) lets do something rn (6:10pm) omg when r u gna stop ignoring me lol (6:20pm) (◞‸◟；) stoppp (6:21pm) how come u never answer me "( – ⌓ – ) (6:22pm) not cool b (6:25pm)

you easily silence your phone before hastily typing in a message to appease him.

you: busy (6:40pm)

gojo: (ᴗ_ ᴗ。) busy??? the whole day?! (6:40pm) busy with what (6:41pm) with whaaaat bbb ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡) (6:43pm)

you don’t bother answering him, instead choosing to ignore him for what seemed to be the millionth time . you really had to get this done – not that you wanted to hang out with gojo anyway. discarding your phone on your bedside table, you groan when you make your return to your desk. this was the worst part about being a sorcerer : the paperwork. you’ve put off the reports for the last 4 missions that you went on, plus you had to do the rest of your homework. you palm your temple with a sigh of anticipation in what surely was going to be a long night.

and then you hear it; a whine of your name beyond your door paired knocking on your door to an uneven rhythm. ughh. you could just imagine the overly dramatic pout on his face.

as to appease the assault that your door was taking, you opened the opposing barrier with a scowl on your face.

“how come you don’t answer my messages?” gojo immediately whines the minute he sees you.

“I told you, I’m busy!”

“but we’re friends! you answer suguru and shoko!”

“yeah because they don’t message me every 2 seconds – my phone is usually on silent anyway, so I forget to check.”

“ughhh… sooooo, can we hang out now?” he gripes, lowering his dark glasses, showing the crocodile tears dancing on his waterline.

“...i have all this paperwork to do, gojo.” you say opening your door wider, gesturing to your messy desk.

he sighs exasperate throwing his hands in the air. “…fine.” pout on full view he turns his firm back, not sparing you a second glance retreating into his room next to yours.

huh. that was easy. part of you felt validated in his easy retreat, it was something that you were used to, something expected – even from the strongest.

you settle back in to your desk, cursing your past self for putting this off for so long.

okay, okay, where were you? concentrate. ughhhh … what happened in nagasaki again? oh right it was that stupid scissor curse that cut you up pretty badly – not your best moment. geto really saved your ass back there with rainbow dragon. he ended up swallowing the curse later and annoyingly scolded you. but he also complained -

“babe!! i'm hooooomeeee!” the door handle rustles before abruptly opening, a mop of tousled white hair, barges into your room with no warning. your wide eyes narrow at the annoyance. waltzing in with a pep in his step, obnoxiously swinging a plastic bag filled to the brim of multiple cakes, sweets and sugary drinks was gojo with an aggravating smirk. you stare at him, hoping your heated glance would melt his grinning face off.

“don't give me that face, grumpy! i got ya some concentration snackies - aren't you glad i thought of you, huh? im such a good friend.” poking your shoulder in greeting ignoring your exasperated pout.

“no one appreciates me here! i'm more than just a pretty face, y'know.” gojo responds to your silence with a dramatic sigh. he settles the bulging bag on the floor he tosses his too long body onto your bed, jostling the soft pillows. you tsk in disapproval.

cooing as he spots Bun Bun peacefully resting on the middle of your bed, you watch as gojo's long limbs dramatically flail to pick up the pink bunny stuffie. “hey, lil’ guy,” he whispers, his slender nose nuzzling Bun Bun's plush cheeks, “i know, I know, babe’s not being fun again. yeah i know, i told her don't worry.” turning his head to meet your incredulous glare. your eye begins to twitch in annoyance, "that's not what he's saying!"

“uh huh, you're just jealous of our bond." he scrunches up his nose at you, " y’knowww you’re gonna get wrinkles early if you keep frowning so much!” gojo practically sings from your bed, infinity easily going up as you launch an eraser at him angrily. he snickers before settling on his side, moving Bun Bun lovingly to share the same pillow as him.

ignoring gojo was no easy feat, but luckily you were very experienced in that field. returning to your work on your desk, you bite your tongue with the urge to cuss him out. you wheel your chair around to fully ignore his distracting presence.

he always took up too much space, his very energy making it hard to focus.

resting your head on your palm, you prop your head up attempting get back into the zone of concentration.

alright, nagasaki. you smirk as you remember how geto complained how terrible it tasted and how amazing that ramen was that you and geto had after. he was worried about your shallow wounds despite your constant reassurance that you were fine, ugh suguru was way too considerate. you pretty much had to beg him to go get some food, you remember how you grinned self righteously as you watched his hesitation disappear the minute he tasted the broth. you had a suspicion it was partly because the curse tasted so bad. but that didn't stop geto from carrying you back on rainbow dragon despite your fear of heights. you wince as you remember ieri smacking you and geto when you got back because she was so pissed when you didn't return straight away with all of those cuts –

“whatcha doing?” you feel gojo's warm breath in your ear, the action making you shudder at the intrusion.

abruptly you turn your head to see gojo’s face right next to yours over your shoulder, nose daring to brushing his smooth cheek.

yelping loudly, you jerk to the side causing you to fall off your chair in a fright. you hear gojo’s amused snort as you close your eyes waiting to hit the ground but … it never came.

warm arms lightly grip your abdomen preventing you from hitting the ground, you feel gojo’s firm chest behind your back as you sit clumsily in his lap, legs swung over to his left side. his skin was warm and soft, invading your senses with his familiar scent. the weight of his body against yours felt foreignly comforting. engulfing your already panicked state in a new level of unease, you weren't completely sure if you enjoyed his warmth or resented him for making you question it. you unconsciously settle your hand on his forearm against your stomach finding an overwhelming needing to ground yourself. you hoped that he couldn’t feel your loudly beating heart through your chest, or that his six eyes couldn't see the deeply buried holes in your heart. “whoa, didn’t expect you to fall for me like this,” he says, feeling his laughter through his chest, breathing life into the dark corners of your cavity.

it was too much. he was always too much.

regaining your senses, you squawk out of embarrassment, concrete realization of where you were in the form of his thumb moving back and forth on your side, a half hearted attempt to soothe you. self consciousness fuelling your uncoordinated limbs you scramble to separate yourself from him.

“ompff – uhh – careful where you're – ompff – stepping, babe!” he stutters quickly, worry and slight panic tinging his voice. his body attempting to shift with your fussing to neutralize your erratic momovements, “look, I don’t give a fuck – oh geez – but the clan still wants an heir so – please be careful“ a large hand goes to still your shin.

an heir? does he mean – oh. OH. in a panic you finally manage to slide down onto to the floor legs still draped over his thighs.

“d-don’t you have anything better to do?!” you deflect refusing to look him. crossing your arms across your chest, trying to distract yourself form thinking about gojo in that way.

gojo’s eyes widen. whoa, what's with that expression? this was ... new. he couldn’t help but notice how your face flushed, the heat gradually spreading to the tips of your ears, down your the column of your pretty throat...

“you would know if you checked your messages!” he huffs ignoring the way his ears turn pink, “we’re gonna hang out when you're done.”

when did you agree to this?

"who decided that?" you said fighting the blush you knew decorated your face, face full of defiance.

he whines your name, “c'mon!!”

“ugh, I still have to do the stupid paperwork! i’ve put it off too long.” you groan flopping on the ground, using your hands to rub your eyes. truth be told, gojo being in your room felt almost suffocating. the air felt too stifling, like you were backed into a corner forced to always playing defence with the strongest. and you didn't want to play his stupid games.

breathing softly you watch as the growing shadows on the your ceiling frame your nagging restlessness to get work done. gojo’s face popping into your view.

“why don’t you take a break? you’ve been working hard for hours – let’s have some snacks!” he adds, attempting to sweeten the deal. you shrug noncommittally, you just wanted to be free of that stupid paperwork. you hear the rustling of a plastic bag, as he digs through his haul, mumbling to himself, "not this.. ugh not this one either, hmm, that's definitely mine .. oh fuck i forgot i bought this heh.. where is it? i just..."

“m’ not in the mood for sweets, go–“

“i got you – I knew you’d want something boring!” you hear him rustling deeper into the plastic bag. you smell a burst of citrus. his grin comes into view again while he roughly shoves a few segments of a mandarin into your mouth, forcing the rest of the peeled fruit into your hand.

“mph! dude– “ you quickly chew the segment in surprise, mouth bursting with the refreshing juice, the orange’s soft flesh tangy and slightly sweet. “… huh. thanks.”

gojo hums victoriously, falling on his back beside you, legs bent, foot tapping out a rhythm.

you split your remaining mandarin in half, feeling for the larger portion and passing it in gojo’s surprised hands. slender fingers briefly mingling with each other, electricity brewing between them. you retreat your hands quickly, purposely ignoring his lingering fingers.

if he notices, gojo makes no mention of it, popping the whole mandarin in his mouth.

“so, why was suguru’s hair in pigtails?” you ask, amused smile growing on your face from the memory of geto’s disturbed expression. chewing on another segment, you could easily imagine geto's loud grumble and exasperation that you frequently heard when gojo was around him.

gojo barks out a laugh, half chewed mandarin still in his mouth. “idiot fell asleep in the common room and y’know… anything is fair game there,” he says shifting slightly to look at you.

“oh god. pff, yeah honestly he had it coming. poor suguru though, he’s been so busy lately, must've been exhausted… i’m surprised he didn’t murder you.”

“oh he tried, he summoned 3 curses,” gojo snickers, pushing his dark glasses up.

“… next time we should do space buns,” you grin mischievously.

“oh fuck that’s a great idea!” he shouts, repeatedly tapping the ground in excitement, matching grin on his face. gojo was practically vibrating with mischief, inching closer to you on the ground.

you couldn't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. often times gojo reminded you of an overly excitable puppy, constantly wagging his tail, begging for attention. usually you'd get the puppy who would become your shadow, whining constantly for a walk and would harness their chaotic energy to trash a room just because. there's a reason why you were a cat person.

“but oh my goddd, have you touched his hair, babe? it’s so fucking soft? i don’t understand what he does but -" you watched gojo talk animatedly. his mouth dressed up in a boyish gin, pearly teeth on full display, emphasizing the dimple on his left side, embellishing the joy he was radiating. it was times like these where you were strangely more aware that satoru gojo was handsome. the soft slope of his cupid’s bow that lead to delicate lips, the slant of his slender nose, his soft cheeks -

you shake your head. god, he was so distracting. he was so annoying.

“ - hey? did ya hear me?” gojo asks, poking your cheek. you share back at him blindly, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. "huh?" stretching slightly you shift on to your side, curling your knees together so they almost touch his thighs. "what were you saying?"

“I said, I got you something!” not even bothering to hid his annoyed glare. he props himself up with his hand supporting his head, turning fully to you, mirroring your body. reaching into his back pocket, he takes out a silver phone charm. delicate and elegant, the neat row of varying silver and black beads strung on a intricate chain complimented the silver star at the end.

you blink at him. “wait- for me?” your eyes dart between the phone charm and his expectant smile.

“duh! it’s for your phone! so whenever you see it, it’ll remind you to answer my messages.” he jingles the keychain, waiting for you to take it.

you stare at him, a hidden expression on your face that he couldn’t decipher.

“man, I gotta do everything here, eh?” gojo pouts, rolling his eyes. he gracefully rolls over to reach for your phone on your bed side table with a sigh. plopping back down on his side, he loops the charm on to your phone grinning triumphantly.

“hehe, look, babe – now we have matching ones!!” he takes out his own phone to show you the same silver keychain on his phone. gojo hands you your phone back, immediately you admire the way the way the keychain captures the dim light of your bedside table. pretty. although gojo’s antics were dramatic and sometimes downright irritating, his constant effort to get to know you despite your adamant refusal was … endearing. you noticed that he was generous, not only constantly buying you, ieri and geto snacks or meals without prompting but generous in his time, annoyingly checking up on you when he didn't see you for a few hours. you had to admit that he did put up a good fight to your frank rebuffs. he noticed a lot more than you gave him credit for, he cared for his friends in his own way but fierce so. despite his arrogant and brash behaviour maybe, just maybe, he could be someone you could talk to once in a while, someone you could let in just a little bit. it wouldnt hurt to be on friendlier terms, right?

“… thanks gojo.” you say smiling in realization as you fiddle with the star of the keychain, unable to look at him.

something in gojo’s stomach flutters, not expecting your bashful demeanour. if you smiled at him like that, he think might collapse. he wasn’t even really sure what he did that granted him the privilege to see your smile, a genuine one - it was just a little trinket, an inexpensive thing he picked up because he was tired of radio silence from you. he smiled thinking about your reaction of something else, perhaps if he got you those specific chips that he noticed that you liked that were notorious for being be sold out at the convenience store or maybe a scarf since you always seemed to be cold or, or maybe even a necklace with his initials -

“… hey? gojo?" you ask softly.

"yes, my grumpy lil prince–" "shut up, before i take back what i'm going to say, idiot." you scoff, your dead pan glare, effectively doing the impossible in shutting up gojo. you sigh. god, were you going to regret this decision? "... if you give me like 2 hours in silence.." you palm your forehead, wondering if you've gone absolutely insane.

".... maybe we could watch a movie or something after?” you force out softly.

gojo smiles widely, almost bouncing up and down as he gets up from the floor, offering you a hand to help you up. you stare at his out stretched hand suspiciously.

“well, the sooner you get started the sooner we can watch!!”

hesitantly you accept his hand and his help. it was a strange feeling, one that you weren’t sure yet that you liked yet. you quickly sever the contact, dropping his hand immediately, not wanting to get used to this new sensation. you huff , moving towards your desk, reshuffling the papers with renewed energy.

turning around to face him, voice authoritative with warning, you meet his covered eyes “when I mean silence though gojo, I mean absolute silence.” he nods, looking back at you, he uses his slender pointer finger and thumb to zip his mouth, and toss away the key behind him, a promise in his bright eyes behind his dark glasses.

gojo resettles on your bed, with a triumphant sigh. he makes a point to grab Bun Bun to lay on his chest as he takes out his phone to play some games, his silver phone charm dancing in the light. you turn around, hands itching to finally get some work done, concentrating on summarizing the straight forward mission in hamura. an unusual silence aids the scratching of your pen on paper, propelling your rapid thoughts. but after 20 minutes of working, you hesitantly clear your throat, turning back to take a peek at gojo, his eyebrow quirked.

“… so, uh what movies are playing right now?”

you can hear the joy in his voice when he starts to weigh your options, even asking Bun Bun for his opinions and occasionally spoiling the plots for other options. With a soft grin, you found that this time you didn’t mind the chatter... or the company.

a/n: he just wants to spend time with you ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡) --

head image credit: Itadakimasu dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #dividers by adornedwithlight #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #satoru gojou x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru x reader #gojo jjk #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru fanfic #satoru gojo x you

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princessbumbles-blog · 9 days ago

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ꪮꪊ᥅ ᦓꪻꪖ᥅ᦓ

ᴡʟғ!Aʙʙʏ × ʙᴇsᴛ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Content: Friends that like each other but are too dumb; a little bit of fluff and tension.

July, 2039

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 4 - Weird tension

You and Abby had fallen asleep on the couch on your side of the room, the one you found months ago, and convinced Max to help carry back to base, just like your bed. It faced the window, letting you watch the sunset and sunrise, as well as the first soft rays of morning light right on your face, waking you up instantly.

Abby was already awake, reading. Your legs were tangled together, both of you in the pyjama pants you’d found and washed. Yours were pink, and hers were dark blue.

“Good morning,” she said, eyes still on the page.

You stretched, surprised the two of you had spent the whole night there. Abby’s hair was already tied back in her usual braid, meaning she’d probably been awake for a while.

“Did I sleep too much?” you asked, running your fingers through your own scalp.

Abby shrugged. “Not really.”

One hand held her book while the other rested on your ankle, her thumb slowly tracing circles on your skin. You looked from her face to her hand as your heart started thudding in your chest.

There it was, those small touches you loved, but that always made you feel a little nervous. Abby noticed it too. Internally, she asked herself why the hell she did it, but pulling away would seem strange, so she made herself keep going. Not that she minded (she liked it).

“You made me wear these stupid pants in the middle of fucking summer,” Abby said. “I nearly died of heat stroke.”

You scoffed. “Hey, I didn’t force you. You wore them because you wanted to.”

She finally looked up from her book, locking eyes with you like she always did when she wanted to challenge something you said. Her eyes looked too damn beautiful.

You couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips, quickly glancing away.

“That’s what I thought,” Abby whispered, her voice still rough from sleep.

You wanted to curl into her. Was that weird?

You shifted, sliding your leg off her lap and resting your head on her shoulder, peeking at her book. This was normal. Totally normal. You’d done it plenty of times. This time was no different.

Abby shifted too, adjusting so you were more comfortable, then gently rested her head on top of yours.

Your hair smelled so good.

"I'm glad we have patrol together", you say.

"Yeah, me too"

Your eyes danced through the words of her book.

"Are you okay?" She asks

"Yeah. I mean, I'm nervous.....and scared...."

"It will be okay. I will be there. Manny too. Nothing wrong is going to happen."

You agreed, as images of that kid from last month returned to your mind. You didn't know his name, or his favourite colour..

"Bitches!" The room's door opened in a bang and The room'a door opened in a bang and Max's voice erupted. "You better get the fuck up!"

She jumped over the stairs and made her way to the front of the couch.

"Is someone dying?" Abby asks, closing the book while you take your head away from her shoulder.

"Not yet! There's a fight in the cafeteria!"

You frown, getting up. "What do you mean?"

"To be honest, it looks more like a duel. But you gotta see that shit."

When you and Abby arrived at the cafeteria, accompanied by Max, you spotted a few people standing, some shouting, and others simply watching, tense, as if waiting for the moment the worst would happen.

“Owen?” Abby said, recognising him among the people standing. “Why didn’t you say he was involved?!”

Max didn’t have time to respond because Abby was already walking quickly toward the group, leaving you behind with your roommate. You sighed and kept weaving between tables and chairs, receiving curious looks from those who were still seated.

“Seriously!?” you shot Max a disapproving look.

“What? I didn’t think it was important,” she defended herself, but that clearly wasn’t true, judging by the small smile on her lips.

“You know how things are.”

Abby approached, observing the argument, and exchanged a glance with Mel, who looked stressed and far from pleased to see her there.

“We don’t kill children!” was the first thing you heard coming from Owen’s mouth as you got closer to the confrontation.

“And we let them kill ours?” Robert, a man you weren’t particularly fond of, and the one you call a fascist.

He was short, stocky, with a thick moustache. You didn’t know much about him, as you always avoided spending too much time around him, but you did know he was ex-military, not too surprising considering half the people in that base had some sort of military background.

“If we despise them, we can’t afford to behave like them,” Owen continued, while Mel gripped his arm, anxious to get him out of there. “It’s barbaric!”

“That’s life, my friend. You weren’t even born and I was already fighting in Afghanistan. I’ve seen plenty, and I know exactly what happens when we try to be the good guys. These days, mercy is a rare currency.”

Owen filled his chest with air, like the anger in him couldn’t fit inside it.

“Let’s just go, please,” Mel pleaded, tugging on Owen again, but he resisted.

“You’re just animals like them!” Owen spat.

“Careful with your words,” Robert warned.

“I’m not pointing a gun at another innocent kid!”

“None of them are innocent.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“You either do what you’re told or you get out.”

“Owen…” Mel pleaded again.

“Listen to your chick, you��ve whined enough.”

In one swift movement, Owen turned and charged towards Robert. Everyone stepped forward by a pace or two, frantic voices rising, trying to stop it, but Abby was faster, pushing Owen back by the chest.

“Don’t even think about it!” Abby said, then opened her arms slightly, assuring everyone she had it under control.

People stepped back a little. You yourself had moved forward without realising, but you didn’t pull back, stayed where you were, because the subject of the argument was making you anxious.

“We’re stuck dealing with kids at the end of the world,” Robert muttered, and slowly his eyes landed on you. “You get it, don’t you?”

Every pair of eyes followed Robert’s to meet yours. You held your breath beneath the subdued attention.

“What?”

“Heard you killed that kid. The one who fucked up Anita’s knee.”

Silence. You felt your chest tighten and all the air vanish. Owen and Abby were both looking at you with different expressions.

“It was self-defence,” you said, keeping your voice steady. You’d lived there since you were a baby, so you knew better than anyone that neutrality and calm were the best responses in any confrontation.

“Yeah, but you saw what that kid was capable of. Did you see any empathy in him? Because I don't see it in any of them. That boy would’ve killed you and felt proud.”

“He was a child.”

“And in a few years, he would be a man, and he would be the same person. You and I both know it.”

You could feel the judgment in the stares of everyone listening. What had happened hadn’t been spoken about because you’d made sure it stayed a secret.

“That’s enough,” Abby said, turning to Owen. “Let’s go before Isaac shows up.”

People began to scatter, including Abby, who was guiding Mel and Owen away. Before following them, you glanced once more at Robert, a chill running through you.

“What the hell happened?” Abby asked both Mel and Owen, who were walking tensely.

“He can’t keep his mouth shut,” Mel grumbled.

“How could I stay quiet in front of that prick?!”

“Not everything deserves attention! Arguing with him leads nowhere!” Mel snapped.

You were walking a few steps behind, struggling to keep up. “Abby,” you called, but she kept walking between the couple.

“He wants to kill kids! How is someone like him even a general? This place is a joke,” Owen said.

Mel stopped abruptly, making everyone halt. “This place gave you shelter when we had nothing,” she said, eyes wide. “This is a place where we’re safe. It’s better than anything else, even the Fireflies!”

Silence. You remained still, a few steps behind.

“Nothing’s going to be perfect!” Mel continued. “It’s awful that there’s a group of lunatics trying to kill us, and yeah, even the kids have to die. But fuck, Owen, it’s us or them! That’s life. There’s no other option. And you... You’re never satisfied. You’re always looking for a reason to start problems.”

“Mel…”

“Don’t get involved, Abby,” Mel snapped at her, eyes wet with anger. Then she resumed walking alone.

Owen sighed, rubbing his forehead, and gave Abby a faint smile before jogging after his girlfriend.

“Abby!” You called her again before she could follow them. “Let them…”

Abby looked between you and the couple walking away.

“Let them sort their shit,” you asked again.

Later, you and Abby were in the jeep on your way to another day of work. Manny had asked what had happened, and it had fallen to you to offer a vague explanation, since Abby remained silent and stayed that way for the entire ride.

You wanted to shake her, violently. But you'd made a promise weeks ago not to get involved in her mess with Owen, even if you couldn't understand why she'd suddenly shut down.

She hadn’t even asked if you were okay, considering what Robert had said and the fact that this was your first time outside the base since that traumatising encounter.

Was it selfish to feel hurt by that? You just felt like she always defaulted to Owen. And now, out here again, rifle in hand, you felt alone.

In a real crisis, would Abby choose Owen over you in a heartbeat?

You inhaled deeply, trying to push those thoughts away.

The jeep pulled up behind a row of trees, parked in the shade. Another jeep pulled in beside yours. Altogether, you were a group of eight. You split into two teams of four, each heading in opposite directions.

This was a civilian zone, outside the old FEDRA perimeter. Which meant it was probably crawling with infected and looked exactly like it had been left after the Outbreak.

Not a vital location, but if the goal was to reclaim the city and make it habitable, you had to start somewhere. Clearing these areas was step one.

Manny led the way, cheerfully chatting to Eliza. She was his age, and her father, a former army officer (shocking), was now one of the WLF generals.

Eliza carried herself like someone who had grown up under discipline: spine straight, eyes forward, no unnecessary chatter. Not the type to fall for Manny’s charm. Which only made him try harder.

You walked a little behind, practically on your own, accompanied by the ghost of Abby. If she wasn’t going to speak, then neither were you.

Everything was quiet, thankfully, and that helped you stay calm.

“We’ll start here,” Eliza said, eyes on a printed map with several buildings marked in red.

“All in one go or we split up? Could do pairs…” Manny winked at her.

“Together,” she answered flatly, ignoring him. “We don’t know what’s waiting in these places. First up, the library. It’s the largest structure we’re clearing today.”

It wasn’t large, but compared to the rest, it qualified. Just a small branch library for this part of town, far from the city centre.

You scouted the perimeter, then regrouped at the entrance.

“No alternate way in,” Eliza confirmed. The front door was barricaded from the inside. “Anyone else see something?”

“Nothing,” you said.

“We could smash a window,” Abby suggested, one of the first things she’d said in more than two words.

“There’s one open up there,” Manny pointed.

Second floor. A jagged hole where a window used to be.

“A bit high,” Eliza noted, narrowing her eyes.

“I’ll climb,” you offered, feeling their eyes land on you. “Remember, Eliza? We used to do parkour on base and ended up stuck in your dad’s office on lockdown?”

Eliza allowed a rare smile to crack her serious expression.

“Yeah. You think you’ve still got it?”

“Please... don’t make me laugh,” you grinned, slipping off your pack and handing it over.

Abby took it before Eliza could.

“Seriously?” Abigail asked.

“Relax.”

You stepped onto a bin, then grabbed the drainpipe, praying it wouldn’t give under your weight. You scaled it quickly, balancing on the narrow window ledge, confident in the strength of your grip.

Below, the group watched. Abby’s knuckles whitened on the strap of your backpack.

“This was a mistake,” she muttered.

“She’s got it,” Eliza said simply, like she’d seen you do this a dozen times before.

And she had. There was still so much about you that Abby didn’t know. Even after all this time. You’d lived in the WLF longer, arrived younger. She’d shown up at nineteen. There were entire years of your life she hadn’t seen.

You disappeared into the hole in the wall.

Now, they had to wait. Wait while you navigate god knows how many corridors, maybe god knows how many infected.

Abby bit her lip. She didn’t want to doubt you. But what if something happened? What if you panicked?

The silence was suffocating.

“How long should we wait?” Manny asked. “And how long is too long?”

Eliza pulled another folded sheet from her rucksack: a floor plan of the library.

“She needs to go down this hallway, cut through here, take the stairs down, and reach the main atrium.” Her finger traced the path on the paper.

“And if it goes sideways? How do we get in?”

“We smash the door in with the jeep,” Abby said without hesitation.

“We need an actual plan,” Eliza replied, but Abby snatched the map from her, holding it up to her face.

“That is the plan. Unless you’ve got something quicker?”

Manny raised an eyebrow, glancing between them.

Meanwhile, you were making your way carefully through the library. The air was so thick with dust it scratched your throat, and all you wanted to do was cough, but you couldn’t. Everything was silent and seemingly empty, but you couldn’t risk it.

You remembered being younger, still a teenager, dreaming of the day you'd get to go out on patrols like the older girls, thinking it’d be cool. Now, after years of doing it, there was nothing you wanted more than to be back inside the base, safe, worrying about whether the socks you'd just washed were yours or Abby’s.

The damp was nauseating, but you had to focus. No room for anxiety now.

Stepping through a corridor, you spotted the staircase at the far end of the next hallway. You pressed forward, weapon raised. As you passed an open door, a flicker of movement caught your eye.

Inside, a lone infected staggered about, head twitching in those slow, jerky motions that made your skin crawl. Your eyes widened, and every possible outcome played in your mind.

Do you run? Keep going? Kill it? Shoot? Too loud. Knife, then. Or... close the door?

You exhaled quietly. One step forward. You holstered your gun, one hand going to the knife on your thigh while the other reaching slowly for the door handle. You breathed through your mouth, eyes locked on the creature’s back. Quiet. Just close the door. You could come back later, when you weren’t alone.

Then, hearing a click from the right, you turned your head slightly.

Another infected. No, two.

The door creaked.

“Shit.”

You slammed it shut and drew your pistol, firing at the charging infected. One dropped, but the other didn’t stop, so you sprinted straight at it, dodged its claws, and drove your knife into the base of its skull.

You kept moving, now hearing groans and snarls echoing from all directions. This was what you hated most, the illusion of silence. They were always there, hiding.

Descending the stairs, you saw the main door blocked by furniture and shelves. No way you’d move all of that fast enough.

Panic clawed up your spine. The infected were getting closer.

You jumped the last few steps and dashed to the barricade, pushing a desk aside, kicking chairs out of the way, but the shelving unit was too heavy.

“Fuck!”

You fired at the oncoming infected, bullets flying.

Outside, the sound of gunfire reached the others. They rushed to the door, shouting your name. Abby was already slamming her shoulder into it, but it wouldn't budge.

“Should I get the jeep?!” Manny yelled in panic.

Abby kicked the door hard, then punched the rotting wood with the heel of her hand.

Eliza and Manny joined her, landing solid kicks against the structure.

“This isn’t helping,” Eliza snapped.

Your legs trembled. The panic rising made your throat tighten. What was wrong with you? You weren’t like this. You used to be solid.

Then, through the noise, with no infected in sight, you summoned every ounce of strength and shoved the bookshelf. It crashed down with a thunderous crack. You climbed over the fallen furniture, tried the handle.

It wasn't working. You started kicking the knob.

A guttural snarl echoed behind you: A Clicker.

You dropped back down and bolted up the stairs, heart pounding. It had come out of one of the side rooms. You fired, but there was no time to aim. You just had to run and trust your friends to break through.

Abby's heavy boot smashed through the bottom of the door, and she tore at the broken wood, ripping pieces free with sheer strength, punching lower, creating a breach.

“[Your name]!” she shouted the second she was in, eyes wide, scanning.

Infected were everywhere.

“Manny, left!” Eliza commanded, voice sharp and precise. “I’ll take the right. Abby...”

But Abby was already gone, charging upstairs, knocking infected to the floor with fists and point-blank shots to the head. Gunfire echoed from above. She didn’t know if it was yours or Eliza’s.

Left or right?

A loud crash echoed to her left.

“There!” she shouted back at Eliza, who was still in the main hall.

Abby burst into a wide room filled with bookcases. She saw a figure darting between them with the unmistakable click of a clicker, followed.

“[Your name]!” Abby shouted, hoping to draw it away.

She caught sight of it darting between two shelves, so she fired and missed. Shit. She ran after it, but a falling bookcase nearly crushed her.

“ABBY!” Your voice cracked through the air just as the clicker lunged from her right, tackling her.

She struck it hard, slammed it against the shelving, but it kept coming. You fired, hit its neck and shoulder, but the bastard didn’t drop.

Abby stumbled and fell, giving time for the clicker to throw himself on top of her. You appeared out of nowhere, slamming a chair leg into its skull. It collapsed, dazed, and began to crawl toward you.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Abby growled, grabbing its slimy ankle. She stabbed it in the head, again and again, until it stopped twitching.

Both of you were panting, you more than she. Your throat felt tight, and tears stung your eyes.

“Hey.” Abby got up and gripped your shoulders. “Are you okay? Were you bitten?”

“I’m gonna be sick…” You stammered.

“It’s alright. Look at me, you’re alright. It’s over.”

Eliza and Manny burst in.

“You two good?” Eliza asked, already scanning the room, eyes falling on the clicker corpse.

“Madre mía…” Manny muttered, nudging the body with his boot. “Ground floor’s clear. Not much down there.”

“We just need to clear this level,” Eliza confirmed.

You were still breathing too fast. Abby reappeared in your line of vision, kneeling in front of you.

“Did you hear that?” she said gently. “Just one floor left.”

“Yeah. I know.”

You forced yourself to take a breath. And then another.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Abby didn’t let go of your shoulders. Her eyes scanned your face. The concern in her gaze was almost palpable.

Cleaning that floor wasn’t hard. Now familiar with the layout, four people were more efficient than one.

You forced yourself to pull it together, still shaken by how panic had been creeping into you during recent patrols.

You hated feeling weak and unstable. You hated how every time you used your gun, images of that boy would appear in your mind.

Abby always kept you behind her.

“I can handle it,” you muttered at her, but it was no use. The tall girl always ended up stepping in front of you.

As you left the library, Manny pulled a spray can from his backpack and painted a green X on the door, marking the building as cleared.

He even drew a small, discreet dick in the corner, making Abby laugh.

There were still two more buildings left.

“We should come back to that library one day, grab some books,” Abby said as she walked down the weed-covered road.

“It’s a bit far from base.”

“We’d be quick.” She winked at you, and you couldn’t help but smile.

The next building was a regular apartment block, also one of the larger ones. Below, it must’ve been a bakery or a café.

After checking the ground floor and packing up a few useful supplies, you all headed upstairs to the flats.

You each chose one to sweep through. Everything was strangely free of infected, so you entered flat fourteen and stopped in the doorway. Something felt different in the decor; it was more alive, more chaotic.

There were shoes scattered across the floor, and the sofa had cushions and blankets left as if someone had just been lying there.

The dust and the musty smell were the only clues that no one had been there for a long time. The whole place felt frozen in time.

In the kitchen, you filled a gym bag with various tins of food. The cupboards were full, and the fridge still had Tupperware containers with food, leftovers, now decomposed and reeking. It was only when you closed the fridge that you noticed the magnets.

There was a photo of two women, held up by a heart-shaped magnet.

There were magnets of dogs, cats, countries, and rainbows.

Only then did you look at the framed pictures in the living room and realise they were all the same two women, even one where they were kissing.

You bit your lip, tears blurring your vision.

You stepped toward a corkboard on the wall near the entrance dresser and read a post-it note:

“If you get home and I’m not here, I went to the gym. There are leftovers in the fridge. Love you.”

You sighed, the breath escaping in a sob. They were a couple. They probably left for work that day and never returned.

There were no keys anywhere. They never ate those leftovers. Maybe the woman never even made it to the gym.

Maybe… they never saw each other again.

Their love was frozen in that flat, a place they never returned to.

You wiped your tears with the backs of your hands and decided to check the bedrooms and the bathroom.

When you were standing there, back to the door, staring at a framed photo on one of the bedside tables, examining every feature of those women’s faces, you heard footsteps behind you.

You turned, and there was Abby, standing in the doorway. Her blonde hair, those blue eyes, that mischievous smile and stupid jokes.

You couldn’t bear the thought of losing all of that.

“What did you find?” she asked.

“Food.”

She scanned your face “Have you been crying?”

You glanced at the bed, searching for the words to explain what you felt.

“A couple lived here… two women.”

“Oh…” was all she said.

“They went to work and never came back.” The lump returned to your throat. “Maybe they never saw each other again.”

Your voice wavered at the end.

“It’s a beautiful home. Cosy,” Abby said. “They were happy.”

You shook your head. “I want to be happy too.”

Abby looked at you, surprised.

A thousand interpretations crossed her mind, but she couldn’t find the words.

You stepped out of the room, followed by Abigail. Now standing in the living room, you admired everything once more.

"I wish I could have a house like this", you say

"It's not impossible", Abby says, dragging her finger over the dust on top of the old TV.

"Leaving outside the base is a suicide attempt"

It's true, and Abby knew it, that's why it took her some minutes to find something to say. "You will find someone you love, and you two will find some place like this...Away from everything"

You stared a her. How could it be so easy for her to say stuff like that?

After sweeping the rest of the building and spray-painting another X, you all moved on towards the last one.

The lump in your throat remained, now joined by a weight in your chest.

You tried to imagine that the women in the flat had found each other again in the QZ and died together. You tried to picture their life in that home, what it would be like to live with the love of your life.

Your eyes drifted towards Abby, walking ahead of you as she chatted with Manny.

You stared at her back and imagined returning to base, and after dinner, after showering, putting on your favourite pyjamas and reading in bed, with her next to you. You’d laugh at something stupid, then turn over (because you can only fall asleep lying on your side) and you’d feel safe and calm, just knowing she was there behind you, just like every night.

You’d fantasise about turning and holding onto her, sleeping like that, but you’d never do it. You’d never do anything that could risk ruining your friendship.

Abby was too vital to you.

And the thought of going out on patrol and never seeing her again left you with a sharp pain in your chest.

You recalled what happened in the library. What if something happened to you? How would Abby react? Would she be as devastated as you would if it were her? Were you as important to her as she was to you?

Those intimate touches at night. The inside jokes. The times she helps you with panic attacks, or when you stay with her when she has nightmares about her father. The connection. The eye contact. Every one of those things means something, you know it does, but would it mean the same for her?

Back at base, you were eating a burrito for dinner in the infirmary while Mel checked over the cuts and bruises you’d picked up during the day.

You told her everything that had happened, while she shared the dramas from her day in the infirmary along with, of course, the gossip.

Apparently, some guy had been injuring himself on purpose just to come into the infirmary and secretly shag one of the nurses on one of the gurneys.

It felt good to indulge in some harmless pettiness after a day of near-death experiences.

“Are you telling me I might’ve been lying on their shagging bed?” you asked, appalled.

Mel laughed. “Maybe.”

You chewed the last bite of your burrito and leaned your head back with a sigh. Your entire body ached.

“I’m sorry about what happened last month… with that Scars kid,” Mel said suddenly.

You looked at her, surprised. “Oh, um… thanks.”

“I imagine that must’ve been hard.”

“It was… but, better that than living someone else’s war,” you replied, unsure whether you believed your own words.

Mel went quiet for a moment, staring off at nothing. “Sometimes I think about being a mum, and I feel guilty. No child should be born into this world.”

“Every world will have bad and good things. We only complain about ours because we know there used to be another.”

“That makes sense... And you? Do you ever want to be a mum?”

The question hit you out of nowhere. You’d never truly considered it. You wouldn’t want to do it alone, but then Abby’s face flashed in your mind.

A chill ran through your stomach.

No. You couldn’t imagine something like that with your friend.

Your friend. Friend.

It was wrong.

“No, not really,” you replied quickly.

The door to the small room where Mel worked opened, and your heart gave a small jump. It was Eliza who walked in.

“Hey,” she greeted with a gentle smile.

“Hey.”

Eliza gave Mel a quick smile, stepping closer to the bed where you were lying. “So, our professional climber is still in one piece?”

“Almost,” Mel replied with a laugh.

“As far as I know, there weren’t any problems on that front. I was always better than you,” you replied, and felt Eliza rest her hands on the edge of the mattress near your leg.

“Unlike you, I was afraid of my dad,” she shot back. “He never told you off because he had a soft spot for your mum.”

“Ugh, no, please don’t remind me.”

“What!?” Mel exclaimed. “General Stuart!?”

Eliza had brown hair tied into a low ponytail. Her face was round, just like it had been when she was a child, when everyone loved to pinch her cheeks. Her small, brown eyes were close-set and round, giving her a sweet, childlike appearance. Eliza hated it. She worked hard to earn the same respect her father had, but her looks were often the biggest obstacle.

“After that, (your name) nearly fell all the way down, let’s not forget we were at the top of the stadium! She nearly died, and I’m the one who got yelled at by my dad,” she rolled her eyes, as Mel laughed, clearly entertained by the story.

“Hearing things like this is so sweet,” Mel said, smiling. “I love knowing what things were like before I got here. Growing up in this place doesn’t sound that bad. Maybe I do want to be a mum after all.” She winked at you, and you gave her a nervous smile.

“I’d love to be a mum,” Eliza agreed, looking at you with a soft smile.

You and Eliza had grown distant over the years, but the truth was, between the ages of ten and thirteen, the two of you had been really close.

“Do you remember when we made those friendship bracelets?” Eliza asked, resting one hand lightly on your wrist.

“Hmm, yeah. They broke after, like, three days.”

“That’s right! Such a shame, I really loved those.”

“You could always make more,” Mel suggested, wiping her hands on a rag.

“That’s true!” Eliza lit up. “What do yo...”

She was cut off by the creak of the door. Abby was standing in the doorway, one hand on the handle. You straightened instinctively.

“All done?” you asked Mel quickly. She nodded, and you carefully slid off the bed.

“Can you walk?” Eliza asked.

You smiled a yes, and walked over to Abby, who followed your movements with a neutral expression. After saying goodbye to the others, you and Abby walked side by side down the corridor in silence.

“Friendship bracelets?” Abby asked.

“Silly stuff. I used to be obsessed with beads,” you explained.

You turned the corner and started up the stairs towards the living quarters.

“It’s not silly. It’s actually kind of sweet,” Abby said. “Having a friend to do that with.”

“You didn’t have friends in the Fireflies?”

Abby shrugged. “None close enough for that, I guess. And Owen wasn’t exactly the bracelet type… Maybe my dad would’ve done it with me.”

Talking about Abby’s father was rare, but when it happened, you always gave her space to speak, never pushing, but showing you cared.

In the room, Abby sat on the bed while you picked up the pile of clothes scattered across the floor.

“Were you and Eliza close?” she asked.

“Sort of,” you replied, tossing two shirts into the laundry basket. “Why?”

“No reason. I just… don’t know much about you from back then.”

“My teenage years were a pit of shame.”

She laughed with you. “I doubt they were more embarrassing than now.”

“Hey! Are you saying I’m embarrassing?”

Abby shrugged, fighting back a smile.

Your mind drifted back to old memories and the weight of everything that had happened today. You watched as Abby loosened the laces on her boots, and Owen came to your mind. The way she had run to him, concerned, leaving you behind.

“You know… Eliza was my first kiss.”

Abby’s fingers froze mid-motion, and her head lifted slightly, her blue eyes fixing on you. Silence filled the room for a beat too long. The words had slipped out without your permission.

“Hm. Okay?” Abby let out that sarcastic little laugh she usually reserved for others, then looked off to the side. “Good for you, I guess?”

You took a deep breath, suddenly self-conscious. “I thought you wanted to know more about my teenage years.”

Abby didn’t answer straight away. She just yanked her boots off and pulled the sheets over herself.

“I’m tired,” she muttered the final words of the night, before her head sank into the pillow.

Note: 👋 Hii. I'm sorry. I think this part was so mid. Aaaa, I struggled a bit, but this was essential as a bridge for the next steps on their friendship.

Anyways, feel free to comment on what type of scenarios you like and make you kick your legs ihihihihi

Take care!

Tag-list: @mellowtheoristkingdom @mxmsuki @lia-winther

#abby anderson #abby the last of us #lesbian #abby tlou #abby x reader #friends to lovers

51 notes · View notes

jiniretracha · 4 months ago

Text

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠? - 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 (𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬)

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst!!!

summary: You worked at Kim Publishing, a place you could call home since the very start. But when it faced bankruptcy, your beloved company was forced to merge with Bang Editorials an evil empire with no vision on anything that Kim Publishing represented. And that's how you met your nemesis: Felix Lee. The bane of your existence. But everything fell into place like the pieces of a puzzle when your bosses had a marvellous idea: a new position as manager director, who had to submit their report in order to be chosen for the job. And your archenemy had the same purpose as you did: get that job one way or another.

word count: 3.7k

ps: I came with a new series totally and utterly inspired/based on The Hating Game. Pls feel free to let me know if you wanna be on this series taglist !

masterlist // series masterlist // ko-fi

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 - 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

That night, you put on a dress and heels. You did your makeup nicely and smiled at yourself in the mirror.

You did remember when was the last time you had dressed up for someone. It was a week ago. For him.

For Felix.

The worst part was that you had dressed up for revenge, but for revenge from what exactly? Was it revenge, really? Or was it just a made up lie inside your head?

It probably was, knowing for a fact that you came to face the reality that you did like-

Hold up.

No, that’s not it.

It couldn’t be. Right?

You jumped up in your place when you heard your phone ringing loudly on the bed.

Your heartbeat quickened as you ran towards it, grabbing it and clicking on the button to accept the call.

“Hello?” you said slightly out of breath.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m outside”

Wooyoung. Because of course. He was the one taking you out on the date.

“Oh… right. I’ll be right out, Woo. Just give me a second” you told him, trying to fake the niceness of your tone.

“Great, see you!”

You hung up and placed your phone inside your purse. You gave one last look to yourself in the mirror and inhaled deeply. When you exhaled, you squared up your shoulders and reassured yourself that everything would work out in the end.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Wooyoung had taken you out to a restaurant located on the rooftop of a building in the center of Seoul. He had really outdone himself and you felt incredibly bad knowing you weren’t on the same page as he was, but you did your best to make him believe you were.

“The view here is so amazing, Woo. Wow” you told him, curling your spaghetti on your fork. “It’s very romantic, may I say”

“Not just romantic. Historical” he said with a smirk. “This building belongs to the city and it has a view of the river where a couple of centuries ago, the emperors would throw the bodies of their enemies in” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Yikes, you thought as you downed your wine.

“They count like 12 thousand bodies at least, which is crazy if you ask me, but I know that a lot of them were- like- eaten by fish or some sort of shit like that” he continued and you just stopped paying attention to him. “Just picture it and tell me if it isn’t fucking crazy”

“No, I am picturing it” you said with a fake smile, “So… anyway, how is work going for you?”

“Everything’s going well” he nodded. “...I guess”

“Why do you say that?” you asked him, with a frown.

“Well, Bang Seojun is very demanding with editing” he confessed with a tired sigh, placing his forehead on his palm as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. “I just can't seem to meet his standards, but if you know… you get that promotion-”

“I will definitely free you from your misery, don’t you worry” you promised and he let out a little grateful smile.

“Um… hey! I brought you something” he said, remembering something and then digging his hand inside his pocket.

“Oh, Woo, that’s so thoughtful. Thank… you” you trailed off when you saw he was holding a card.

Jung Wooyoung - Graphic Designer, and it had a phone number with an email on it.

“A business card?” you asked with a disappointed tone that he did not catch.

“For all your graphic design needs, especially if you want to win that position, I can definitely help you” he winked at you.

You left the card by the table and sighed. “Have you… have you ever thought about kissing me?” you asked him.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened and he pulled his face back. “Well, uh… since the very first time I met you, if I’m going to be honest. You spilled coffee on my lap at my first team meeting and… I guess I just always knew I wanted to kiss you” he said, feeling his cheeks blushing.

You then leaned over the table, grabbed his shirt and kissed the breath right out of him. His breath hitched at the back of his throat and then you pulled away with a frown.

Nothing. Fucking nothing.

Why isn’t this working?

You pulled him back into a kiss, trying to give every ounce of passion you had in yourself. This time, Wooyoung had time to kiss back, but still.

No fluttering in your stomach.

No feeling of your toes curling.

No brain mushing.

No nothing.

Empty.

You pulled back and sat your ass back down on your chair while he chuckled and brushed his thumb over his bottom lip.

“Wow…”

“Yeah…” you sighed.

“That was…” Wooyoung smiled at you.

A mistake.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

You didn’t know why you were here. You didn’t know what exactly you could come across or what would he say if he saw you there.

But there you were.

Standing outside his house, your eyes travelling all over the door and windows, in hopes of catching a glimpse of him.

You grabbed your phone with an irritated sigh and clicked on his contact.

You went to type in a message:

You: are you home?

But as soon as you finished typing the text, you deleted it.

Then, you tried again.

You: hey, so I kissed him and you were right-

You quickly pressed on the delete button with an irritated sigh.

God, what were you even doing?

This was embarrassing. You placed your phone back inside your purse and bit your lip, debating what to do.

Should I knock? Should I call him?

Your heart started pounding nervously at the possible outcomes of your actions that you pictured inside your head.

What if he laughs at you and rejects you? What if he kisses you? What if he tells you it was all a joke and you fell for it and-

“Do you think he’s home?” a familiar low voice said from beside you and you jumped with a yelp.

Next to you, stood Felix with a humored smile.

“What?” he asked you, nudging his chin upwards. “Are you stalking me now, Cupcake?” he asked you with a little chuckle.

“Yeah, I just snooped around through your trash, actually” you said, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Really?” he asked you back and you hummed, nodding your head. “And did you find anything interesting?”

You hummed in a thinking manner, continuing the game. “Nah, the usual stuff: leftovers, tissues… geriatric diapers. Exactly what I imagined from you”

Felix laughed, showing his teeth and his eyes coming crescent shaped.

It made your heart double its size. “You should always laugh” you said almost immediately.

“Then, you should always be funny” he replied. You just smiled, feeling your cheeks flush and you looked down at your feet, getting a little shy. “So… how was your date?” Felix asked you. “Did he roll over the last meatball at you with his nose? No- wait, don’t tell me. You did that thing from Lady and the Tramp where you both- you know, with the spaghetti-”

“No…” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

His eyes inspected your face, trying to see the signs. “Did you kiss him?”

“I did” you replied.

“And?” he asked, clenching his hands at his sides.

You chewed on your lip and exhaled deeply. “And… I am not going out with him anymore” you said slowly.

He smiled and stepped closer to you.

You let him.

“Because?” he asked huskily.

You pressed your lips together and sighed. “Because… nobody kisses me like you do” you answered truthfully.

Felix smiled and slowly he bent down a little, grasping your thighs and hoisting you up in his arms. You gasped and quickly grabbed his shoulders, wide-eyed. He let you curl your legs around his middle as his hands stayed on the back of your thighs, gripping them softly.

He bent forward and pressed your lips on yours, taking you by surprise once again. You made a noise against his lips, something in between a moan and a groan.

Felix nipped at your lip and pulled away. “You can’t” he exhaled.

You frowned. “What?”

“You can’t make those noises… and expect me not want to just do everything to you, Y/N” he sighed, kissing you once again, his tongue separating your lips as he dove it right into your mouth. You sucked on it while your fingers gripped on the strands of his black hair.

You pulled away with a loud pop and smirked at him. “Are you gonna invite me in or what?” you asked him, before pressing a peck onto his lips. “I mean… you literally know mine, it’s only fair”

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Inside, Felix turned the lights on and you gasped as soon as you saw his place.

It seemed incredibly cozy. You had always tried to picture how his home would be. And it always ended up in thinking that his house would be either all white or all black, incredibly minimalist with no life in it, American Psycho style. But it wasn’t at all like what you imagined.

He had a dark green couch with a very fluffy looking white carpet underneath. He had a huge bookshelf filled with books and he had action figures there as well on display. There were plants everywhere and his kitchen looked pretty colorful.

“Wow, I really like it” you exhaled, walking around the place a bit. “You know, I half expected you to live underground or- or maybe some kind of Patrick Bateman style?”

“Patrick Bateman? Really? Me?” he asked with a chuckle.

“You should take a look at your desk, buddy” you scoffed and he just shook his head.

“Whatever, wanna snoop around?” Felix asked you with a smile as he took off his coat, leaving it on the couch.

“No…”

“I know you wanna. I snooped at your place, it’s only fair” he shrugged, watching you take your own coat.

You watched as he turned around in his heel and went to turn on the kettle, making you frown.

What is he doing?

You walked towards him and placed your hands on the island. “What are you doing?” you asked him with a little frown.

Freaking deja vu.

“I’m making you some tea” he replied, his eyes not leaving the kettle as he clicked on the buttons.

“I thought… you brought me inside to, you know… do everything to me” you quoted his words.

Felix chuckled and turned around to face you. “Really?”

“yeah, really” you nodded, mocking his tone.

“Well, I am thirsty for some tea, so if you want some” he said and smirked evilly at you.

You narrowed your eyes and turned around, walking towards the bookcase.

With a hum, your fingers danced over the book spines. You frowned when you realised something.

“You don’t have one single Bang Editorials book here” you told him. You gasped and turned around to look at him. “You are such a Kim Publishing kind of guy”

“No, I am not” he chuckled. “I just like those editions a little better”

“Don’t lie, I can see straight through you, Felix Lee” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and continuing snooping around the bookcase.

You saw a book of anatomy and frowned. It was very out of character from the other books he had on the shelf.

“Wow, you really like to learn about dicks” you joked.

He snorted and walked towards you with two cups of tea. “No, I just like to learn about everything”

“Okay, nerd”

“No, but seriously. I actually did a year of medical school” he confessed and handed you one of the cups he had in hand.

You grabbed it and then gasped. “Oh my God, that’s why Bang Seojun calls you Dr. Lee” you said with your eyes wide as plates.

He sighed and nodded. “To remind me of my failure to live up to my potential… I guess” he shrugged and then sipped on the tea.

You sipped on the tea as well and then left it by the book case. “You know…” you trailed off, placing your hands on his waist and pulled him closer to you, making him smirk. “If you were a doctor, all your lady patients would have to get their heart checked every time from how hard it would beat, mm?” you chuckled.

“Shall we…” he said, leaving the cup next to yours and pulling you even closer to him with his hands on your waist. “...test the theory?”

“Of course” you said, pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiled against your lips and kissed you back, his hands coming to frame your face. You pulled away a little, letting your lips brush against each other. “I want to see your bedroom, can I?” you asked excitedly, like a little kid.

Felix chuckled and raised his arm, pointing at the hall to your right.

You quickly padded through the hall and stepped inside his bedroom. You looked around with a soft smile as you saw the perfectly made bed, because you weren’t expecting anything less from him.

You gasped when you saw there was a little bed next to his, like the one that you buy for a pet.

“You have a cat?” you asked him, wide-eyed, as you locked eyes with his when he walked inside his room.

He chuckled. “I do, yeah” he smiled.

“Where is it?” you asked, looking around.

“I actually just came from leaving him at petcare. I’m leaving for Chris’ wedding and I can’t leave him alone” Felix said.

“What’s his name?” you asked him.

“Cupid” he said and you let out a chuckle. “What are you laughing at?”

“You’re so adorable. Here I was thinking you were the devil’s spawn and you named your cat cupid, holy shit” you laughed.

You then took off your shoes, and sat on his bed, putting your weight on your elbow.

With a little smirk you patted the empty space next to you. “Come here” you murmured.

He smiled back and walked towards the bed, laying next to you in the same position you were, facing you.

“Can I… can I ask you something?” you asked, your hand coming to twirl a loose strand of black hair from his head.

“You already did” he smirked and you scoffed, your hand falling with a thud against the bed. “I’m kidding, go ahead”

“Okay” you said softly. “Why did you uh… quit med school?” you asked quietly.

He chewed on his lip and exhaled softly. “Well, uh… after two semesters of immersing myself into a career that I did not choose to pursue, my father thought it would be a good idea to spend a day with me at the morgue ward. Five minutes later, the… family day ended up with me throwing up inside the stomach of a dead man” he said and you grimaced, the look on your face making him giggle.

“That’s fair, I would’ve quit too, to be honest” you laughed with him. You then let your hand fall to his arm, caressing it. “What’s this muscle called, hm?”

“Brachioradialis” he answered immediately.

You nodded and then trailed your hand over to the muscle before his shoulder, gripping it with a bit at your lip. “And… this one?”

“Anterior deltoid” he replied.

“And… this one?” you asked again, gripping his bicep.

He chuckled. “Biceps”

“Oh, right. I knew that” you said, your cheeks flushing. “And what about this one?”

You took him by utter surprise when you pushed him on his back and swung your leg over his hip, sitting yourself directly on top of his crotch. He groaned as his hands fell automatically on your waist, gripping you tightly.

He sat up and brought you even closer to him, if it was even possible.

Your faces were very close to each other to the point you could feel his breath hitting directly onto your upper lip.

“Hi” you whispered, batting your eyelashes prettily at him.

His eyes fell onto your lips. “Hey” he whispered back before kissing your lips, and you were quick to kiss him back.

It wasn’t rushed. It was just a long peck on the lips, but it was worth more than any of the other kisses you had shared. It meant something. It had feelings poured on it.

He nudged your nose with his and smiled. “You taste sweet”

“It might be the gloss I applied before coming over” you giggled.

“Nah, I think it’s just you” he whispered back.

You smiled and pushed him on his back again, making him groan. Your hands brushed all over his body, making you gasp at how hard the planes of his stomach were. He worked out and it made you clench around nothing.

“Holy fucking hell, remind me to send your personal trainer some thank you flowers” you told him, making him laugh out loud.

“I spend a lot of time in the gym. You know… having to look at you for eight hours a day leaves me with an excess of energy that I have to get rid of” he murmured sensually, massaging your thighs.

You chuckled and bent down to press your nose on his, speaking directly on his lips. “I can help you… burn some calories if you’d like” you whispered, before pressing a little kiss on his lips.

“Seriously?” he arched an eyebrow with a curious look. “And how would you do that?” he asked.

“Well, I had a lot of things in mind but… I think we should play a game” you said and he hummed. “It’s called ‘who can make the other cum first’?” you said and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Okay…”

You sighed. “Seriously, Felix. I think we should fuck and just get it out of our system” you said, biting his lip a little as you moved your crotch against his. “And then… we can just go back to normal without that crazy sexual tension that we seem to have”

Felix looked at you in the eyes and let out a sigh, grabbing your waist. “okay, Cupcake-” he said and deposited you next to him and off of him, making you frown instantly. “I think it’s getting a little late” he said, standing up from his bed.

What?

He walked out of his room, leaving you there on his bed, incredibly turned on by just a little rubbing with clothes on.

You followed him out of his room with a frown and holding your heels in your fingers. “Felix? What is your problem?” you asked, incredibly confused about what had just happened. “Did you not want to have sex with me?”

“I don’t know, maybe some other time” he replied, sitting on the armrest of his couch.

“Huh? Maybe some other time? You say that when you turn down a muffin, not sex” you frowned even more. “Is this about the job?”

“Yes, it is. It’s not wise to sleep with the competition” he replied but you knew he didn’t really think that.

You scoffed with a not so subtle roll of your eyes. “Right, ah-há. Make me beg for sex and then kick me out of your house. Nice move, Felix Lee”

“Were you begging?”

“That’s not funny!” you yelled at him. “Are you playing with me? Is that what this is?”

“I think you’re the one playing games with me, Y/N” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You grabbed your coat and shook your head. “Okay, whatever the hell this is, I don’t want to do it anymore” you said, turning around and walking out of his house.

You didn’t even stop until you were at least two blocks away from his house. Then, you pressed your back against the wall and let your head fall to your hands, pressing your fingers against your temples.

On the other hand, Felix stared at the door and let out an irritated sigh.

“Good job, Felix. Go on and ruin it once again” he whispered to himself, kicking his shoes angrily from his feet.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @lattyjiji @jeonginsleftcheek @alrm02 @skzjiiiii @lixies-favorite-cookie @victoriaaf @st4rv3lly @noirvedette @velvetmoonlght

i apologize if i can't tag you

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz smut #felix x reader #felix x female reader #lee felix #felix #felix lee #lee felix x reader #felix smut #felix series #felix fluff #felix angst #stray kids felix

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xmads-omensx · 6 months ago

Text

Part 5

Word Count: 1,994

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: angst, self-image issues, fake dating, swearing

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @amelia-acero @thisbicc @dominuslunae @enemiestolovershoe @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @cheyyyyr @littlebear423 @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @kait16xo @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch

NOAH

Grace’s appearance at the party, whilst irritating, wasn’t exactly unexpected.

As a group, we had become accustomed to her unwanted presence in our lives. My only regret was that I never told Y/N about her. She was supposed to be my best friend, after all.

Except that wasn’t enough for me. It never had been.

She plagued every thought in my brain.

I had written countless songs about her that had never seen the light of day. Songs about her eyes, her smile, her hair, her laugh. I had written songs about everything and anything that reminded me of her.

Except that still wasn’t enough for me.

I wanted her. No. I needed her.

Three years ago, she went on a girls trip with some of her friends to Italy and it had been the worst two weeks of my life.

I missed her so horrifically that it hurt to be away from her for so long.

Sure, I was happy that she was having fun with her friends, but I wanted it to be me she had fun with. I wanted it to be me who took her to Italy, not her friends.

Hell, if Bad Omens fell apart I wouldn’t give a single shit about it because I would still have her.

Or would I?

The first time Y/N told me about Stephen’s behaviour I was enraged. I told her that once she had finished talking.

What I didn’t tell her, however, was that Nicholas had to hold me down in order to prevent me from storming over to the office building and beating the shit out of that perverted asshole. He even went as far to make me sleep in his bed that night so he could make sure that I wouldn’t do anything that could land me in jail.

I lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling, listening to the front door slam shut, indicating that Jolly had re-entered our house.

I could hear their muffled conversation from the living room. Jesse and Jolly were probably filling in Y/N with whatever they could think of in regards to Grace.

I didn’t care.

After all, Grace was right.

Y/N was, in fact, using me.

Granted, I was using her too, but not for the reasons she thought.

Yes, I did want to keep Grace as far away from me as possible, but she was still harmless regardless of if I was in a relationship or not.

I just wanted to be her boyfriend. For once. I just wanted to get what I wanted. Even if it wasn’t real.

The longer I lay there, staring into nothingness, the more I longed for it. I didn’t want her to be downstairs, talking to the others, I wanted her up here with me, curled up into my side with her head resting on my chest, rising and falling with my breaths.

I would look down at her and brush those shorter hairs that often fall into her face from that time she impulsively got bangs away from her face, making her giggle because she was so ticklish.

I would laugh at the goofy things that she said, making her head bounce along with my laughs.

I smiled absentmindedly at the thought.

Suddenly, the front door slammed, interrupting me from my daydreaming.

I sat up, confused.

Jesse and Jolly lived here and Y/N was staying the night, so who could have left?

Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I walked to my bedroom door, opening it with a slow creak before tiptoeing down the stairs to investigate what the slamming was about.

Jolly sat on the sofa nearest the front door, looking at it with a shocked expression, whilst Jesse stood in the middle of the room, also staring at the front door. Y/N was nowhere to be seen.

“Did she leave?” I asked, startling the other two who must’ve not heard me coming down the stairs.

“Uhh- umm- yeah. She did.” Jesse spluttered, eyes darting to me with a slightly panicked expression.

“Why? I thought she was staying over?” I asked, getting increasingly worried. “Did she leave because of Grace?”

“I- uh- she didn’t say.” Jesse stuttered.

An awkward silence filled the living room as the three of us looked at eachother, all awaiting an explanation.

“I think she went back to her place, she said she was tired.” Jolly shrugged, clearly making up what he was saying as he went along.

“You both are terrible liars, you know that right?” I laughed, walking towards the front door before Jesse stopped me, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me back.

“No!” He shouted with a panicked tone. “She probably wants to be alone, you know, with the whole Grace thing.”

That wasn’t like Y/N at all.

If someone had irritated her or pissed her off, she would automatically storm right up to my bedroom, throw herself onto my bed and begin telling me all about it.

TWO YEARS AGO

“Ugh I hate that bitch.” Y/N began, flopping onto my bed with an exaggerated sigh.

“Hello to you to.” I laughed.

“Bridget.” She sighed, twirling her hair around her finger. “I hate her.”

“What did she do now?” I asked.

Bridget was one of the new employees at Y/N’s work. She had claimed to be perfect for the position, but had proven to be the opposite. She was constantly late, backtalked Y/N and Gabi non-stop and was basically just the worst coworker ever.

“She was late. She rolled her eyes at Gabi. She spilled my coffee all over my desk.” Y/N began listing off all of the things Bridget had done that day to slight her, counting them off on her fingers as she went.

It made me laugh, how passionately she hated her new coworker.

She did everything passionately.

Hated, loved, laughed, cried. You name it.

“Want me to scare her off?” I laughed.

“Would you?” She asked, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.

I stared at her before bursting out into laughter, whilst Y/N playfully smacked my chest, complaining about how horrible I was being to her.

“You know I would scare anyone off for you.” I said sighing.

“I know. That’s why you’re my best friend.” She smiled.

Whilst the moment was sweet, it didn’t stop that crack in my heart from deepening as I smiled back at her.

I needed to accept the fact that she would never want me as anything more than that.

PRESENT

I hesitated at Jesse’s words, taking in his panicked expression.

Jolly had stood up now too.

“Whatever.” I mumbled, retreating back up the stairs and into my room, crawling back onto my bed and resuming my earlier position.

She definitely wouldn’t want to see me after I failed to defend her to Grace.

Once again, I had fucked up and let Y/N slip through my fingers.

False hope after false hope had made that crack deeper and deeper, and I was pretty sure my heart was only being held together by a thread.

The last few weeks had both made me the happiest man alive, and the most miserable.

Whilst I was able to be her boyfriend in reality, I was willing to accept the falsehood of the lie we had created if it meant that I got to hold her hand and kiss her.

The thing was, pretending to love her was easy, since I already did. I had for a very long time.

She would never love me back, of course. Y/N was the most incredible woman I had ever met, therefore she had the ability to pick whoever she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and I had accepted that I would never be that man.

After all, I was her best friend.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I had never uttered a word about any of these feelings to anybody. Not even Nick.

I closed my eyes, trying desperately to retreat to the memories we had created over the last few weeks.

Y/N had a work party not too long after we had started our arrangement, which I had to attend as her boyfriend.

That night, I had driven over to her place in my black dress pants, freshly polished shoes and a white button-up shirt. I had even busted out my most expensive cologne and let Jolly style my hair for me.

It felt silly, when I was waiting for her in my car, that I had put all of this effort in despite us not really being together, but I wanted to show her that I could be a good boyfriend. Even if it wasn’t real.

“Damn where the fuck did you hide the real Noah?” She had laughed when she climbed into my car in a floor-length lilac dress with matching heels and a matching purse.

My heart fluttered in my chest as I looked at her. Beautiful wasn’t enough to describe how she looked.

Fuck that.

Not a single word in the English language was enough to even begin to describe how breathtaking she looked sitting in the passenger seat.

“I- uh-“ I had stuttered, making her laugh.

Fuck that laugh would be the death of me.

The party itself went by in a blur, especially since I spent the entire night looking at her.

I watched as she laughed with Gabi and Ashley about something.

As far as I was concerned, she was the only thing worth looking at.

“How on earth did you bag that?” A nasally voice spoke up from beside me, interrupting my thoughts.

This was the moment I had been waiting for.

Stephen was speaking to me.

“Sorry?” I said with a laugh, hoping I had misheard him.

“How did you manage to get with her?” He doubled down. Big mistake. “I mean, look at her.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that.” I laughed again.

“Do what?” He asked, genuinely confused, and mildly offended that I had argued back.

“You looking at my girlfriend.” I went on, my expression turning serious. “Don’t do it.”

He looked genuinely taken aback by my response.

“I was only complimenting her.” He defended.

“And I was only telling you to stop.” I retorted.

I easily towered over him.

His bald head reflected the lights above him. He looked almost comical stood next to me.

“She is my employee.” He argued.

“She is my girlfriend.” I laughed.

Stephen huffed and retreated back to the group of older men who stood away from the main party, glaring at me and clearly pissed off that I had stood up to him.

Y/N grinned at me from where she stood with her friends, having clearly witnessed the interaction.

I smiled back.

I was going to kill Stephen.

The ceiling above me offered no comfort as I reminisced.

Granted, I was only hurting myself by thinking about the times I felt like I was actually her boyfriend, but I couldn’t help it.

Besides, Y/N would never fall for someone like me anyway. A fake relationship was the best I was ever going to get, and I was more than happy.

Except I wasn’t.

I was in a constant state of happiness since I got to have her, whilst continually having my heart broken over and over again since she wasn’t mine. Not really.

Soon enough, she would find someone else, someone real, and I would be left alone and used.

The more rational part of my brain wanted to break our arrangement off, but I knew I couldn’t if I wanted to make sure that Stephen stayed the hell away from Y/N, but my selfish heart never wanted this to end.

I needed to decide what to do. And I needed to do it fast.

But it was too late to turn back now.

I had dug a hole so deep that I would need to tear myself apart to get out of it.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian bad omens #fanfic #noah bad omens #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian just for tonight #just for tonight #fake dating #noah sebastian fake dating

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seeingivy · 2 years ago

Text

you belong with me

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: high school!au, gojo is a robotics nerd, reader is class president, emo nanami (my beloved), toji is ur shitass football playing boyfriend, typical cheesy highschool drama

an: tell me why posting this is giving me a tummy ache like I haven't posted for gojo in forever and now i think I suck at it :OOO anyways, please be nice to me about this and close your eyes if you hate it. also, totally reliving my high school days when I was senior class vice president (worst experience of my life) FDLJFKDSJFLS

You’re a hater. A self proclaimed, real-life, deep in your soul hater.

What do you hate today? Being class president.

You hate that you willingly ran, somehow won, had people up your ass all day about stuff that wasn’t in your control, and got stuck in the current situation you were in. Which was arguing with your boyfriend Toji, as you pace around your room and do your own fair share of screaming back.

“You just did that shit because you were pissed at me.”

“I did not, Toji. You know, not everything is about you. Other people needed the money and I put it where it was needed.”

“To the color guard team? Babe, no one gives a fuck about the color guard team. Everyone is at the homecoming game to watch the football team. Not a bunch of idiots waving flags in the air.”

“They’re also part of the game and all their equipment is broken. They need it more than you when you guys literally get donors and funding from the district and-”

“You’re just pissed about the sweetheart thing. That’s why you’re doing this shit and taking it out on everyone else.”

“Toji, I’m not even mad about-”

You’re met with the sound of ringing over the phone, signaling that Toji had enough and finally hung up on you. You flop straight onto your bed, pushing your face so hard into your pillow that sits uncomfortably against your nose and the smell of your laundry detergent makes its way to the crevices of your brain.

You hear a banging behind you and twist around to see Gojo pointing at his walkie-talkie, switching it on as you reach for yours. It’s still covered in glittery pink stickers from when you were seven, the silver coming off on your hand every time you grab it.

“Come in, bunny.”

“Loud and clear, Toru.”

He smiles, setting his hardware down - probably for another weird ass robot he was making - as he holds it up to his face, talking again.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just arguing with Toji, again. I’ll start allocating some of our funds to get you some sound proof windows.”

“Much appreciated, Madam President. That’s very generous of you.”

You laugh, dropping the walkie talkie to lift your fingertips to your temples, lightly massaging the pulsating under your skin.

“For what it’s worth, the color guard team is really grateful you did that for them. I know Utahime was so excited when the new flags came in, she was flipping them around on the field for hours.”

“That’s why it’s even more annoying. I know what I did was right, but he just doesn’t see it that way. Uta dragged me down to the field to watch them and their choreography looks so much better with the multicolored flags. They were really happy about it.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown?”

“Heavy is the head that’s dating Toji Fushiguro.”

He laughs as you switch your channel off, taking the last few seconds to study you before you draw your curtains. He can see the tension sitting in your shoulders and how clearly it hurts you to argue with Toji like this. And it infuriates him. That you even have to go to sleep angry and that the cause is the headass idiot you’re dating.

Toji Fushiguro is lucky, far more lucky than he realizes. Not for obvious reasons. Yeah, he’s a great football player and yeah, he’ll probably get scouted for some really good university at the end of the year. He doesn’t have a shortage of friends or intelligence and for all intents and purposes, he’s loved (which Gojo doesn’t understand at all).

He’ll probably be that scumbag that people see a few years down the line and then get infuriated at. Because if an absolute asshat like Toji Fushiguro can be successful, then truly all things have gone to shit. That the patriarchy is real, that society is broken, living proof that the asshole always wins and everyone else always loses.

But no, those are common reasons to hate Toji Fushiguro - ones he’s heard echoed by Suguru and Shoko every time he does something that pisses the two of them off. Like scream obscenities in the hallways, block their parking spots when they’re going to class, call them names when they walk by.

No. Toji Fushiguro is lucky because he gets to date you. Because out of the long list of girls he had to pick one, Toji just had to pick the one that was his. The girl he’s been in love with since he moved in right across the street and had a smiley neighbor excitedly waving at him through her bay window.

To him, love has always been the pigtail braids you used to wear everyday in the fourth grade, the matching walkie-talkies you bought him in sixth grade when he got grounded, and that sweet smile you’ve had since the first day he’s met you.

And when he sees those green curtains pulled against the bay window he’s stared at for years, where he’s loved you from for years, he lifts the walkie and says what he forgot to mention.

I love you.

Thanks to your gracious ride, you make it to school thirty minutes early. Your intuition - that Toji was ditching you as your ride to school this morning - was correct. Luckily, you made it in time just before class started.

Nanami’s already seated on the green bench outside the classroom, headphones plugged into his ears. As you walk up, you silently wonder how much hair gel it takes to keep his Gerard Way hairstyle in place.

“Hi Kento! How is my best friend doing on this fine morning?”

“We’re not best friends.”

“Sure we are!”

You reach forward and pinch his cheek in your hand, which he only swats off and rolls his eyes at. That’s how you know your best friends. Because if it was anyone else, Nanami would probably break their hand and walk away. But he always lets you tease him, because he know he loves you.

“Are you still fighting with that dog?”

“That dog has a name. And it’s Toji. And I’m not sure, he didn’t pick me up for school this morning.”

“Did he at least tell you he wouldn’t?”

“No. I was lucky enough that Satoru had walked Megs to the bus stop a little late and I was able to get a ride with him.”

Nanami looks over, narrowing his eyes at you, as the hallway starts getting crowded with people. And you know what he’s saying, what he’s been saying for the past few months.

“You know, it’s very normal to give your neighbor a ride when they need one. Not everything has ulterior motives, Kento.”

“That’s true. Everything doesn’t have ulterior motives. But he does. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me, Kento?”

“Like he’d kiss the ground you’d walk on.”

You roll your eyes, reaching up to mess up his perfectly styled hair. It doesn’t budge and you get a handful of minty smelling hair gel.

“As if.”

Like you’ve summoned him by bringing him up, Satoru’s sidestepping to where you and Nanami are sitting, Shoko and Getou in tow with him.

“Nanami~~ How’s my best friend doing?” Satoru says, bending over to totally obscure Nanami’s line of vision.

“Shut the fuck up, Gojo.” Nanami responds.

Nanami stands up, giving you a look, before he stalks away to his next class. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and Getou standing in front of your classroom.

“So. I hear you have a robotics competition?” you ask.

“Yeah. Next Saturday. We always practice our hardware out the night before, throw a little party in the lab. You should come.” Getou says, smiling at you.

Satoru smacks Getou in the stomach right after he invites you, clearly trying to tell him something with his eyes. And then when he catches you staring, he gives you a nervous laugh.

You get it. He doesn’t want you there.

“Don’t act too excited to see me now, Satoru. Anything more and I might think you like me.” you bite sarcastically.

“What? No, it’s not like that. I just-” Satoru stutters,

“So you don’t like me?” you say, smirking at him. Shoko and Getou are laughing, the tips of Satoru’s turning pink as he very adamantly tells you that he does indeed like you.

“I have stuff to set up for the homecoming game that day, so I won’t be able to. But I’ll try my best, yeah?”

“Okay. Next time?” Getou asks.

“Sure, Sugar-u. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?”

You give the three of them a polite smile as you trudge away, leaving to meet Toji at his locker and give him a piece of your mind for this morning. Which leaves Shoko and Getou to give Satoru the scolding of his life.

“Are you fucking stupid, Satoru? You made it seem like you didn’t want her there.” Shoko says, smacking him on the back of the head.

“I panicked! Plus, Haibara always likes to play Just Dance and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of her.” Satoru responds, rubbing the now sore spot on the back of his head.

“You’re hopeless, Satoru. She’s never going to like you if you keep rejecting her the way you do.” Suguru says, dragging him along to the robotics lab.

“She has a boyfriend. Who isn’t me. As if she would even consider dating me in the first place.”

And when the three of them pass you by the lockers, clearly getting yelled at by Toji, it only furthers their argument more.

“Yeah, I’m sure she really loves him, Satoru.”

Your argument with Toji hours prior simmers in your head, as you wait for the bus to arrive and for this godforsaken day to finally be over. You watch him pile into his car with Salma and the other boys from the football team, which only makes your anger fester more.

He’s doing this to piss you off. Of course, he’s doing this to-

“Need a ride?”

You look up and unclench your fists to find Satoru, sparkly blue eyes shining at you and a hand held out to you.

“Thanks.”

He leads you to his car, an almost demolished Honda Civic from his maniacal driving, and you climb in, immediately putting your head in your hands. You can feel him moving around you, the engine purring on and him backing out of the spot.

“About earlier. I don’t not want you to come to the robotics thing. I just thought it was awkward the way he asked you and I-I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come, you know? And I-I’d like it if you came too and so would the rest of us.” he rambles, a hand in his hair.

You look up, his ears tinted pink from the confession.

“I was just teasing you, Satoru. I’ll try to make it by, okay?”

He sighs, a clear breath of relief, and looks over to smile.

“Okay, cool cool cool. Now tell me why you and Toji are fighting.”

“When aren’t we fighting?” you murmur, pressing your head against the glass.

“But why?”

And when you look over, his blue eyes staring into yours, in earnest while the light is red, you unload it all.

“Do you know about the sweethearts thing they do at the homecoming game?”

“Uh. That’s when the cheerleaders wear the jerseys right. And then decorate the locker room or some shit for the players.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s not limited to cheerleaders. It usually is, but if you’re dating someone, that person can do it for you.”

“So I’m guessing Toji doesn’t want you to do it for him.”

“Not exactly. He was just saying that it’s more traditional for a cheerleader to do it since they’re also on the side of the track and he wants to see his name out there instead of running around, trying to make sure the game is running and all that.”

You slump into the chair as Satoru frowns, a pitying look in his eyes, as he keeps driving. You can’t help but watch him, his silhouette against the window - defined jaw, the slope of his nose.

He’s not the guy who ran away from kissing you in the eighth grade. He’s just ten times hotter.

You shake your head, letting the thought spill from your mind, as Satoru looks over.

“Jamoca?” he says, giving you a wide grin.

You can’t help but laugh, nodding as Satoru makes a sharp left turn, making his way to the ice cream shop.

Jamoca is your favorite ice cream flavor. Coffee, layered with fudge and almonds, became a proclaimed favorite when Satoru dragged you once in the sixth grade. After very sorely losing the class president battle, you moped in your room for five days - even going as far as borrowing one of Nanami’s My Chemical Romance vinyls to truly and properly mope.

On day three of blasting the vinyl, Satoru called enough and dragged you to the closest ice cream store, claiming it was the closest thing to therapy that you normies could afford. Since then, any bad day was easily solved with two things.

Jamoca and Satoru.

When you make it to the store, Satoru’s excitedly dragging you out of the car, his hand pressed in yours as you both run into the store, giggling while you order your single scoops. And when he drags you out to the curb and you sit there, you silently think to yourself why you ever stopped doing this in the first place.

Satoru leans over, digging his chocolate fudge covered spoon into your cup, before talking.

“So. If you guys fight so much, why are you still dating?”

“Dunno. Feels weird to initiate a breakup, I guess. I can’t see myself doing it.”

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart?”

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart.”

You kick the pebbles into the broken parts of the pavement, leaning your elbows on your knees.

“I don’t know, Toru. I guess he was just the first guy who ever liked me back and then I….spent so much time in the relationship and trying to make it work that it feels weird to let it go now.”

Satoru swallows hard, eyeing his melting ice cream, as he ponders the best response. Because in earnest, he has two options. Support you or be selfish. Support you to stay with Toji, to do what you’ve been doing because he knows it’s what you want. Or be selfish. Tell you that he you deserve better, that he could be that for you if you just let him.

He reaches over, flicking you in the forehead.

“Ouch, asshole.”

“You’ve got a really big brain in there. And you always have. You’ll figure out the right thing to do, just give it time.”

And when you give him a halfhearted smile, reaching over into his cup for a bite of his ice cream, he lets it go.

He can’t be selfish. Not when it comes to you anyways.

After running around all day, you give yourself thirty minutes to go to Satoru’s robotics thing. After triple checking the microphones work, the yearbook team has access to the field, the glitter has been set out for everyone trickling in, and that everyone who could possibly need your phone number has it, you speed run to the other side of campus, to the robotics lab.

And when you make it, the five of them - Haibara, Nanami, Shoko, Getou, and Satoru - are in the room playing Just Dance. Shoko’s sitting on top of the desk, flippantly moving her remote in the air, while Satoru quite literally is trying to give it all he’s got - and losing apparently.

You lightly push the door open, which stops the two of them in their tracks, and you’re met with some very excited cheers as they all drag you into the room. You take a seat next to Nanami, giving his cheek a pinch, which he hates.

“You’re Haibara, right?”

“You know who I am?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re friends with Nanami and Nanami and I are best friends.”

“No we aren’t.” responds Nanami, now sulking two seats away from you.

“Are too.”

You throw the nearest object, a pencil at Nanami, as you turn back to Haibara and laugh.

“I like your shirt. Flight of the Navigator is a really good movie.”

You see Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru’s eyes widen in the back at your words and hear a considerable amount of groaning from Nanami behind you. And after twenty minutes, you find out why.

Haibara really, really loves Flight of the Navigator. Almost too much. In earnest, you barely remember the movie - at most, maybe the weird little alien companion he has. But here Haibara is, reciting the cast, the directors, acting out the scenes and it’s clear to you that you’ve tapped into some monster they all keep hidden.

Luckily for you, Satoru comes to your rescue.

“Okay, Haibara. I’m going to steal her for you for some Just Dance.”

“I don’t Just Dance Satoru.”

“Oh yeah? You’re just saying that because you know you’re going to lose.”

You scoff, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“As if, sweetheart. I distinctly remember you banning us from ever playing that game together after I beat you in the fifth grade.”

“You’re rusty. Maybe we’ll start with something easy. Like Rasputin.”

“I could do Rasputin in my sleep, bitch.”

“Prove it.”

You roll your eyes as you march over to the front, where they’re projecting the game onto the screen. And just for posterity’s sake, you take Satoru’s sunglasses from where they were flipped over on the desk and put them on, effectively blinding yourself from the screen.

And when the songs start, you can hear them all laughing behind you, Satoru and you hurling insults at each other as you dance on. And somewhere around the middle, you’re sure Satoru must be losing because he grabs your hands and suddenly he’s swinging you around in the air, his hands on your waist as you laugh.

And when you take your blindfold off and the song dies down, Satoru wins by five points.

“You asshole. You literally cheated, Satoru.”

“Did not. You’re just a sore loser, bitch.”

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“Every night, sweetheart.”

You put the palm of your hand in his face as you push him away, moving to sit on the desk. He joins you, the two of you now watching Haibara and Nanami have a very one sided dance battle.

After forty-five minutes, Satoru’s phone buzzes three times and the smile on his face drops when he checks. You place your hand on his, squeezing twice before asking.

“You okay?”

“Huh. Oh, yeah. I-I think you should go to the field. Right now.”

“Wait, what? But you hate that kind of-”

He grabs your hand, dragging you out, as you both start running to the field. You keep asking as he pulls you on, getting almost no response and only a faster pace.

And when you reach the field, you catch just the end of it and the only thing grounding you to that moment is Satoru and Utahime, who was surely the one who had texted Satoru, holding onto your shoulders.

Salma, the cheerleader Toji picked to be his sweetheart, just asked him to homecoming during halftime. And he said yes.

Utahime squeezes your hand three times, a soft look in her eyes when she talks.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just thought you would want to know and I wanted to tell you because you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You smile, moving into her open arms as you whisper a small thank you into her shoulder. She leaves, having to return to the color guard team waiting for her on the side, leaving you and Satoru standing on the pavement right by the field.

“Take you home?”

“Thanks, Toru.”

“You want Jamoca?”

“Not today.”

He nods, a hand on the small of your back, as he leads you to his car, even going as far as opening the door for you and letting you crack the windows while you drive back - which you know he hates.

At the first red light, he taps on the top of your head to get your attention.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“What? Of course, not. Toji is just an asshat who doesn’t see you for what you’re worth and-”

“No. No, no. Not like that. Do you think there’s something wrong with me because I’m not even the tiniest bit sad right now? I’m…relieved.”

Satoru looks over, the red front the traffic light flashing on your face, and a blank expression staring back at him.

“Of course, not. He’s a grade one idiot. Anyone in your position would feel that way, bunny.”

“I know. That’s true.”

“But?”

“Does this make me defective, Satoru? Like, maybe I just can’t like people that much or something and I was the problem.”

Satoru twiddles his thumbs on the steering wheel, pondering the same question he has been asking for the past few days. Encourage her or be selfish.

He can’t be selfish with you.

“Okay, Y/N. Close your eyes.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay.”

He looks over, to find you eyelids fluttering shut, your face lit up by the streetlights outside.

“Now. Tell me about your dream guy, bunny.”

“What are you going on ab-”

“Just do it.”

You sigh, before thinking hard about his question.

“Someone I can be comfortable with. That’s my type. Like we can have fun together and play games but also being around them is comforting to me. Things might suck, but at least they are there to kind of pick me up at the end of the day. They’re nice to people and are surrounded by good company, because you are who you love and they try to be better each day.”

After finishing, you open your eyes to find Satoru staring at you, an all-knowing look on his face.

“Bunny?”

“Toru?”

“Does that sound anything like Toji to you?”

You slump back into your chair, sinking down.

“No.” you murmur.

“You aren’t defective. Well, maybe in the higher level cognitive thinking part because you clearly have some impaired decision making but-”

“Hey. Don’t be rude, asshole.”

“Get out of the car.”

You crane your head out the window to see you’re in fact not at your house, but at the ice cream store. And when he comes around to your side of the car, opening your door, he drags you out, the two of you eating you ice cream in the light of the dingy lamp outside the store.

You knock hard on your window, only stopping when Satoru looks up from his desk, dropping the pencil he was just scribbling with. You point to your walkie talkie, switching on the channel as he grabs his.

“Hi bunny. You look nice.”

“Thank you. Are you coming tonight?”

To homecoming. Because despite all odds and last night, you still have to go. And crown the homecoming king and queen since you’re the class president, which you’re sure will be Salma and Toji since the universe is very, very kind to you.

“I’m sorry. Haibara needed help designing something for next week.”

“Oh. Okay. I wish you were.”

“I wish I was too. His hardware is Flight of the Navigator themed so wish me luck.”

You laugh, giving him one last smile as he pulls the curtains to his window. And when you see his navy windows against the pane you’ve stared at him through for years, it only now occurs to you.

When he asked you to describe that last night, he unlocked something. Bringing it to your attention, to the forefront of your mind.

The person you were describing is him. You lift your walkie talkie to your mouth, press the button, and mention the words you forgot to say.

I love you.

And then you turn on your heel and drive yourself to the dance.

Satoru ponders it for thirty minutes.

Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish.

Be fucking selfish.

Satoru gets up, dropping the hardware he was making for Haibara, and pulls out the first suit he can find. He grabs his walkie talkie off his desk, convinces Megumi to go beg your mom (who loves Megumi) for your walkie talkie, and then goes ninety on the freeway to get to the school on time.

He finds Nanami first, the glob of gel on his head somehow even worse than normal and sets his plan in motion.

“Nanami.”

“Please, for the love of god, not tod-”

“Go hand this to Y/N.”

Nanami and now Shoko are taking the walkie in their hands, flipping it over and inspecting it like they’re the fucking FBI. And more importantly, wasting time.

Three feet away, you’re standing by the punch table, counting how many balloons are on the ceiling. You reach three hundred and fifteen when you’re approached for the first time that night, by Nanami and Shoko.

“Nanami. What is going on with your hair? You can’t possibly need that much hair gel.”

“You would be shocked, Y/N.”

“That's what I said to him too. But this is for you.” Shoko says.

She hands you your walkie talkie, the silver glitter coming off on your hand, as you flip it over.

“Did you break into my house, Shoko?”

“No. But I’m guessing Satoru did. He ran in here five minutes ago and basically yelled at us to give it to you.”

They both shrug as they walk away and you look around, clutching the walkie talkie so hard in your hand you think you might break it. Satoru’s here.

And when you scan your eyes around the room, you see him at the front door, his eyes already fixed on yours. He’s smiling so big that it makes your heart squelch and suddenly you’re moving towards him. And as you both start walking (running) to each other, you can’t help but feel the anticipation of what’s coming.

Except that’s right when Toji stands in the middle of the two of you, his characteristic slimy, sneer on his face. He reaches for your hand first.

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

"No."

You shrug your hand off, pushing right past him, as you walk closer to Satoru. You can hear Toji shouting something at you, but you’re too tunnel visioned on Satoru to pay attention. And when you reach him, you’re both smiling so big at each other, that it makes your face hurt.

He lifts his walkie talkie to his mouth, talking first.

“Come in, bunny?”

“Loud and clear, Toru.”

“I love you.”

You can feel yourself smiling so big, so excited that you’re basically jumping on your toes, your walkie shaking in your hand.

“I love you.”

“Oh thank god. I was scared I was going to get a breaking and entering charge.”

You laugh, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him square on his face. And when he pulls away, ears pink and face red, you whisper against his lips.

“It was always going to be you. I belong with you.”

He smiles, that stupid smile you’ve stared at, loved for years and you can’t help but cheese, leaning forward to kiss him again.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

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someonesbride · 3 months ago

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Sige, guys. I'm here to ramble about Filipino HS!Caleb AU just because I can he-he.

I can't promise I'll speak English the whole time when writing this because it's my people 🇵🇭, so HAHA

I'm sorry if there's any grammar mistakes!! I came up w these on a whim and English isn't my first language 😭 also yes, there's a lot of Tagalog words used here. I tried translating it all but got lost in the sauce and forgot to continue translating it.

reblogs are appreciated!

: ̗̀➛ “basketbol ang sports ng boyfriend ko”

[basketball is my boyfriend's sport]

yan lang HAHAHA

I feel like he'd love playing basketball, since he'd also has an advantage of being tall.

: ̗̀➛ Oh, talking about his height, he'd probably be the tallest in his class. I don't know if he's filipino in this au, or he just lives in the Philippines, but I'll be headcannoning him as half-filipino for my sake.

(filipinos are unfortunately short, since the average height is 5'4 and anything beyond that is considered tall) (I've seen some guys shorter than me and I'm only 5'5 T0T)

: ̗̀➛ CAMPUS CRUSH, NO JOKE. With the looks? Height? Naglalaro ng basketball? You'll be hearing some girl in the hallway say something like, 'Gwapo niya oh.' [ look, he's so handsome ]

: ̗̀➛ Campus crush pero makulit sa classroom. His friends always playfully discouraged the girls who have a crush on him, as he goes his merry way.

: ̗̀➛ With MC in the picture, he's literally that one little shit who you grew up with (no choice) and who won't stop teasing you no matter what.

That one who's a part of the 'boyzzz', and the one who always annoys you with the 'ey ka muna, eyyy' whenever you ask him for something

: ̗̀➛ When he's with his guy friends, makulit at maingay talaga, pero when he's with MC/you, parang..tanga na tanga talaga, like head over heels HAHAHA

Like when he sees you— all of the sudden, he's checking his own reflection out in his phone or a nearby window,

"Okay lang ba ung buhok ko pars?"

: ̗̀➛ Part of the "BOYS AT THE BACK" whenever the teachers has had enough of their noisiness

Speaking of teachers, he's probably some teachers' favorites (or worst nightmares). Especially the PE teacher.

: ̗̀➛ Feeling ko he plays MLBB (Mobile Legends Bang Bang) and maging try-hard masadyo if you're is playing with him, watching him, or if you're nearby

He'd occasionally glance to see if you're watching or at least listening, and boasts

"Sheesh naka triple kill ako oh"

"Ulol second kill mo pa yan, six deaths ka na gani"

: ̗̀➛ Assuming they were in a private school, and they had to wear the school uniform, he'd definitely lend you his uniform jacket if you're cold (just to get in trouble for taking it off in school campus and gets disciplined) (at least in my school it's like that)

: ̗̀➛ Definitely at a point got shipped with MC/you, and I also have a feeling he wouldn't deny it

Their classmates would suddenly start saying that one rhyme like, "CALEB AND Y/N SITTING ON A TREE, K I S S I N G!" (unfortunately a victim of this)

No matter what you'd reaction will be, he'd just smile at you,

"Sinabi nila eh, pipsqueak."

"??? HINDI TAYO UUPO SA PUNO AT MAG KISS"

: ̗̀➛ Feeling ko he's a victim of getting his bag tied tightly on his chair by his friends 😭 or nalagyan Ng bato sa bag HAHAHAHA

: ̗̀➛ Would LOVE street foods omg. He'd always invite you after school to buy food, and pay for what you want

: ̗̀➛ If he didn't grew up in the Philippines, I can see him calling kwek-kwek 'orange balls'

: ̗̀➛ HUY EVERYONE WOULD BE FIGHTING TO BE CALEB'S COOKING PARTNER IN A TLE COOKERY ACTIVITY LMFAO

But he'd always pick you, or the tle teacher would pick the partners instead so it wouldn't be a hassle (he'd probably still ask to switch and partner up with you instead ngl)

Ack, I think that's all I can spew for now!! Hehe, if you reached this far, thank you for reading me yap my head off!

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echoingbirdsofprey · 8 months ago

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Delicate (Jake's Version)

13 - Jake's Sacrifice

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: lots of feelings, Rooster and Hangman sort their shit out, canon typical fighter pilot violence

A/N: I apologize for the heartbreak that is about to happen. I had a little cry writing this one. Also, this story is now caught up to everywhere else it's posted so updates will be about a week apart now, depending on how much I write, but I've got a lot coming up.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891

Playlist

Jake didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. He was wrapped tightly, and protectively around Sam and warm almost to the point of sweating under the sheets. He'd been laying there for what felt like hours, his fingers ghosting over her shoulder and the back of her neck, combing through her hair. Fuck, he was going to miss those beautiful brown waves and the way her bangs fell across her forehead, and how soft her skin was against his fingers when he brushed them out of her eyes. Sure, he’d only be gone a short while, but in that amount of time, he knew he’d only be thinking of her.

When she rose from her deep and comfortable sleep, he smiled. When she gazed up at him through barely awake eyes, he reached over and ran his fingers gently through her hair, down her cheek and along her jawline, as if he was memorizing every little part of her. He knew this mission could be fatal and he would only have pictures of her in his mind to guide him through it.

They headed to Sam’s house and then dressed in silence, Jake in his dress whites and Sam in a pretty blue dress that stopped just above her knees, and had quarter sleeves. Jake followed her to the bathroom as she went to fix her hair, leaving it down and wavy, bangs falling over her eyes. Jake wrapped a hand around her from the back and placed his cap on.

“Don’t you look handsome.” Sam murmured, a twinge of sadness in her tone as she locked eyes with him in the mirror. He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to her neck before his eyes met hers once more. “ And you’re more beautiful than an afterburner at night .” Then, his voice filled with sorrow for what was to come. His lips turned down as he whispered, “I’m sorry.” to her before pulling away.

He kept telling himself it would be a short mission and everyone would come home safely but in the pit of his stomach, there was an uneasy feeling. Maybe it was just nerves, but he’d never had that happen before. He’d never loved anyone the way he loved Sam before either. It had to be a combination of everything. The worst part was how guilty he felt for leaving her now, when she’d just lost her father. That probably upset Jake the most. He’d come into her life and given her some light in the dark of it all and now he was stepping away.

He took her hand, leading her down and into the truck so that he could meet the rest of his detachment at the port to board the carrier. He was the last one to arrive, not late by any means, but all eyes examined him as he walked up with Sam. Javy’s new girlfriend, Maisy, was there as well, and Penny, as well as Cyclone and Warlock’s wives.

Nat and Bob stepped over to Sam and hugged her. “Be careful.” She said to them both and they nodded. Nat hugged her once more and she glanced at Jake. “We’ll keep an eye on him and make sure he gets home safe.”

“I know you will...and I know he’ll do the same for you guys.” Sam said and they strode away with one final wave. Rooster then headed over to her and he smiled at her before carefully embracing her. Sam stared at him hard after they parted, as he kept his hands on her arms.

“Bring him back to me, Roos. I need him.” She said, stern and needy all in the same token. Bradley nodded and he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

“I promise. I know him and I have had our differences but I see how happy he makes you, Sammy. I understand him a little better now...so I promise that he’ll come home safe...that I’ll bring him back to you.” Bradley vowed and that made Sam tear up and pull him into a hug again. He smiled and glanced down as he began to walk away but Sam called for him once more.

“Roos...you come home safe too. I mean it.” Sam said and he chuckled and waved goodbye. It was then that Jake walked back to her, hands in his pockets. Sage green met chocolate brown in the morning sun and Jake couldn’t help but draw her in for a kiss, one that was full of passion and need. One that she would think about until he came home. One that burnt a memory into her brain that she knew she’d never forget.

“Tell me that you'll be safe and sound. Please, Jake. Lie to me if you have to, right here, right now, so I have some peace of mind.” Sam said her voice barely above a whisper between them and he held her head in his hands, kissing her once more.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, honey bun. I will. Here...want you to have Tyler's number just in case.” He said softly and sent her his brother's contact information. “If you’re feeling shitty or you need anything just call him and tell him what's going on and he'll get here if he can. He's super reliable. I know I won't have much service on the boat, but I'll try to text you when I can.” He explained, then he pressed his lips hard to her forehead. She closed her eyes tight, trying to keep herself from crying in front of everyone. His fingers met the back of her neck and he squeezed there, while her hands bunched on his sleeves, her nails digging into his forearms. He could feel the tension coursing through her. “ I love you, Samantha Kazansky .” He said, his lips at her temple.

“ I love you, Jake Seresin .” She murmured, gazing up at him. Jake then felt a hand on his shoulder and he glanced back.

“Time to go, Jake.” Javy said, making Jake shake his head and back away from Sam. Javy hugged her and whispered something to her that Jake couldn't hear. Javy followed him, placing his hand on Jake's shoulder. Jake glanced back at Sam, tears stinging his eyes and he was sure she was the same.

Penny had taken Sam into her arms and reassured her. “He knows what he's doing. And Mav is with them. They'll be okay.” She said and Sam smiled weakly against Penny's shoulder. Maisy introduced herself to Sam, and then Penny invited them to come back to the Hard Deck if they wanted. They both agreed it would be good and then they could get to know each other.

🛩🛩🛩

Once on the carrier, all the pilots changed into their flight suits. Jake sat in his bunk, flipping through his saved pictures on his phone of Sam. He already missed her. He had limited cell service. He sent her a text, knowing it probably wouldn't send for some time, but he did it anyway.

Jake: miss you already, i love you Sam

He sighed heavily, placing his phone on the mattress beside him. He heard boots down the hall coming toward his bunk. Someone poked their head in, Jake, sensing the presence but keeping his head in his hands. The boots crossed the small space and he heard the metal cot creak with weight settled next to him. He felt a hand at his back, the hand rubbing back and forth a few times before settling.

“I made Sam a promise. I'm your wingman, Jake, so all the shit from the past, it's void. We start from scratch right now, okay?” Bradley murmured. Jake sniffled and cleared his throat.

“Mature of you, Rooster.” Jake mused and Bradley glared at him. Jake smirked and then dropped his gaze to the floor. “I would really like to start over...”

“Hey...I'm Bradley Bradshaw, Callsign Rooster.” Bradley held out his hand to shake. Jake took it firmly and chuckled.

“Jake Seresin. Callsign Hangman.” He said and Bradley squeezed Jake's shoulder. Jake knew he was trying to be comforting and it was actually helping.

“We’ll be alright. We just need to work as a team. Also...I am happy for you and Sam. I'm sorry about what I said before. I've known Sam since we were teenagers because of her dad...I uh...did she ever tell you anything about her and I?” Bradley's words were a million miles a minute, filled with emotion that Jake expected. Bradley had always been emotional, and that was part of the reason they didn't get along. Jake had always been cold and calculating. Not with Sam though.

“Other than you guys knowing each other for a long time. There something I should know?” Jake asked, knowing what he was going to say, but wanting Bradley to say it anyway. Bradley took his hand away and folded his hands in his lap.

“I slept with her...once, two years ago...obviously there's no feelings on her part...but I wanted to be completely transparent with you. I know she'll never pick me over you. I wouldn't even dare try. I do still like her a little more than a friend though...” Bradley leaned back and away from Jake, anticipating possibly getting punched in the face. When Jake just laid back and sighed, Bradley was surprised. Jake's brows furrowed.

“All I'll say is if you're gonna still have feelings for her, you better be ready to protect her if I need back up. You'd better be respectful. And if I die, you'd better take care of her for me or else I'll haunt your ass until you die. And then I'll make your afterlife hell.” Jake said flatly and Bradley laughed a little.

“Okay that was not the response I was expecting.” Bradley shrugged and Jake sat up and looked Bradley square in the face.

“What good does it do me, or you, or Sam for me to be pissed about it? Doesn't help us any at the moment. And it doesn't affect Sam right now. This was damn near the worst timing for this mission.” Jake explained and Bradley nodded in agreement. Bradley hadn't ever felt the way Jake was feeling about Sam, about any girl, but if it was affecting him this much, if Jake loved her this much, Bradley could see how him being with Sam a long time ago wouldn't bother him now.

“It'll be quick like Mav said. I have to talk to Mav when we get back too.” Bradley said and Jake raised a brow. Bradley sighed. “He pulled my papers and set me back four years. We have some things to work out but after seeing Sam lose her dad and Mav trying to be a second one to me...I wanna fix the relationship with him.”

“I think that’s important for you, Bradshaw. I’m sorry about your mom and dad by the way...I didn’t know.” Jake said and Bradley smiled warmly at him. He gave him another pat on the back and then stood and leaned against the bunk for a moment.

“Sam’s hard to love, Jake. She’s independent, stubborn, and willful. She’s like a wild horse that won’t be tamed. You’re never gonna tame her, but if you treat her right, she’ll stay. If you don’t she’ll move right the fuck on...I know you know that.” Bradley said, Jake nodding in agreement.

“She was so damn easy to fall in love with...I mean the moment I saw her...I knew...and I know she’ll be hard to keep. I know she’s gonna make me work for it. I’m gonna enjoy every single second of that, Bradshaw. I’ve been waiting for a girl like her, someone to match my attitude and call me on my bullshit. She’ll single handedly keep me humble.” Jake said as he glanced down with a grin.

“Didn’t know it was possible to humble Hangman.” Bradley joked, both of them letting light laughter settle between them.

“For her, it is. It’s the easiest thing in the world for her. And that’s just one thing I love about her.” Jake stated.

“There’s a lot to love about her, Jake. I’m happy for you. I truly am.” Bradley said quietly, tapping on the top bunk before he left Jake to his own thoughts.

🛩🛩🛩

The carrier sped to their destination with good seas and clear skies the majority of the way. Jake had gotten a single text back from Sam.

Sam: i love and miss you Jake, please be careful

The text had brought tears to his eyes. He had thought back on the past few weeks and realized how silly everything might look from the outside. He’d not only just met Sam but he proposed to her too. Jake felt crazy for that. He decided then there was another text he had to send.

Jake: hey Tyler, just wanna let you know i’m deployed on a mission and I proposed to Sam, gave her your number in case anything happens or she needs anything, hope that’s okay, love you, miss you, cant wait to see you, planning to bring Sam down to see you when I get home

Once he sent that, they had several more hours before they were going to begin pre-flight checks and he was trying to get all the rest he needed. His phone chimed then.

Tyler: hey, good luck don’t break anything or die, can’t wait for you to get home, be safe, love you, miss you

🛩🛩🛩

Jake stood in front of Bradley for a moment before heading to his jet. His jaw worked and he glanced down before saluting Bradley.

“Let’s give ‘em hell.” Jake said, pulling Bradley in for a hard and fast hug.

Once Jake was settled in his jet, Maverick had come up the ladder to check on them all one last time. He saluted Jake. “Come home safe, Lieutenant.” He said and Jake saluted him back, pulling his helmet on and adjusting his mask. Engines were on and he was ready to get moving. He bristled for a moment, hyping himself up like he always did and then he glanced over at the flight crew. He was being waved onto the catapult.

“Dagger One, up and ready on catapult one.” Jake confirmed as they locked the nose gear into place.

“Dagger Two, up and ready..” Bradley said, glancing over at Jake’s jet in anticipation.

“Dagger Three, up and ready..” Nat affirmed, glancing back at Bob, who nodded his head.

“Dagger Four, up and ready.” Payback said and Fanboy gave a thumbs up.

“Support assets airborne. Strike package ready. Standing by for launch decision.” The launch coordinator said over the comms, then looked to Cyclone for the ready. The vice admiral swallowed hard and stared at the radar, checking and double checking one last time. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Send them.” He said, and the catapult slung Jake’s jet down the length of the carrier, and asonic boom sounded as he pushed the throttle up. He steered the plane off the deck and into the sky above the Pacific Ocean.

“Dagger One, away. Dagger Two, away. Dagger Three, away, Dagger Four, away.” The launch coordinator said as they heard each boom from each jet as they lifted off the carrier. They were off, heading to the most difficult mission they’ve ever encountered. All Jake could think about was getting it done and coming home safely.

“Comanche, Dagger One, standby check in.” Jake said over the comms. Bradley took a shaky breath that he hoped no one could hear.

“Comanche, One one set. Picture clean. Recommend Dagger continue.” The radar operator said. Jake adjusted himself and steered his jet down.

“Copy, Daggers descending below radar.” One by one they pulled down through the clouds and fog, getting to their mission altitude, only about one hundred feet above the sea. Jake took a deep breath and spoke again. “Feet dry in sixty seconds. Comanche, Dagger One, picture?”

“Comanche, picture clean. Decision is yours.” The radar tech said, and Jake’s breath out had a weight to it that the other pilots felt in their own jets.

“Copy. Dagger attack.” Jake commanded and they assumed their attack formation. The Tomahawk missiles had been launched and were heading toward their target, the air base that they needed to take out.

“Tomahawks airborne. No turning back now.” Warlock said, turning to Cyclone. Maverick was up on deck, as the Dagger Spare in the event that they needed him. Mav was practically biting his nails. This would all be over and done within a very short time, but until then, the not knowing exactly what was happening made it difficult to sit by and wait.

“Daggers set. Proceeding to target. Two minutes and thirty seconds in three, two, one. Mark.” Jake said, pressing his timer.

“Two mark.” Nat said, having slid in behind Jake’s jet.

“Three mark.” Bradley said.

“Four mark.” Payback said. They’d reached dry land and maneuvered easily through the first bit of terrain between the mountains.

“First SAM sight overhead.” Nat said. Bradley’s breath quickened, glancing up.

“Dagger, Comanche. We’re picking up two bandits. Single group. Two contacts.” The radar operator said, and Jake surveyed above him quickly, his fingers tightening slightly on the stick, thinking of speeding up. He knew he coukd

“Comanche, what's their heading?” Nat asked. They all had a slight wave of panic and nausea roil over them.

“Bull’s eye, zero nine zero, fifty, tacked southwest.”

“They’re headed away from us. They don’t know we’re here.” Bradley affirmed and they all let out a breath of relief.

“No, but the second those Tomahawks hit the airbase, those bandits are gonna move to defend the target...we’ve gotta get there before they do. Increase speed.” Jake said, pushing his jet faster.

“We’ve got you, Hangman. We’re right behind you.” Nat said. Rooster, Payback, and Fanboy were right behind them, aa they navigated the terrain with amazing precision. They were ahead of their time to the target.

“Tomahawk Impact in three, two, one.” The comms officer said, as the missiles hit the airbase, decimating it.

“Bandits are switching course to defend the target.” The radar operator said. “Bandits are two minutes from target, Daggers are one minute.”

“We gotta move our asses guys, Rooster where are you?” Jake asked, checking over his shoulder and surveying above once again.

“We’re right behind you, keep going Hangman.” Bradley said and Jake focused on his breathing for a moment again.

“Bob check your laser.” Jake said, waiting for his lock.

‘Air-to-ground check complete. Laser code verified. One, six, eight, eight. Laser is a go!” Bob said and Jake rolled his shoulders.

“Phoenix, stand-by gor pop-up strike in three, two, one. Popping now.” Jake commanded, pulling back on the stick, and with Phoenix and Bob hot on his tail they popped up the side of the mountain, inverted across the top and headed down into the valley. Bob locked his laser on target and Jake sent the bombs, directly hitting the bunker, opening it up for Rooster’s hit. As Jake pulled the stick back and they headed up the other side of the mountain, he felt the weight of everything pressing on his chest, not just the G-force, but the weight of all of his decisions that led him to the moment.

Payback and Fanboy's laser malfunctioned and Rooster decided to drop his bomb anyway, making a direct hit. There was cheering form everyone on the boat, especially Maverick in the spare jet. As they climbed in enemy airspace, the SAMs began firing on their jets. All they could hear on the boat was voices, trying not to panic, but at the edge of it, as they did their damndest to not get killed.

“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!”

“Break right, Payback!”

“Breaking right!”

“Oh, my god, here they come!”

“SAM on your six, Rooster!

“Deploying countermeasures.”

“Negative contact.”

“Dagger one defending.”

“Talk to me, Bob. Break right, Phoenix! Break right! Hangman!”

“Nine o’clock! Nine o’clock!”

“Rooster, two more on your six.”

“Dagger two, defending.”

“Payback, SAM on your nose.”

“Dagger four defending!”

“Rooster, tally, seven o’clock! Talk to me, Bob!”

“On our six! Dagger two defending!”

“Phoenix, break right!”

“Dagger two defending.”

“Shit, I’m out of flares!”

“Rooster, evade, evade!”

“I can’t shake ’em! They’re on me! They’re on me!” Rooster said, and a feeling of dread washing over him as the SAMs followed his jet, getting closer and closer as they all tried to leave the area. Jake steered as close as he could over the top of Rooster’s jet, then stalled and hit the brakes, sacrificing himself to save Rooster.

Jake's jet is hit by the missiles, the back end exploding into a fiery cannon ball. Jake winces and closes his eyes as he pulls to eject. He felt nothing but pain, in every fiber of his being, before he blacked out.

“Dagger One is hit! I repeat, Dagger one is hit!” Phoenix said as the rest of Dagger Squad begin to head out of the bowl away from the remaining SAMs.

“Dagger One Status!” Rooster yells. Everyone on the boat goes silent. It seems as though everything stops. Cyclone slams his hand on the table in front of him. Maverick slams a fist on the side of his jet.

“All Daggers flow to ECP. Bandits thirty west, locked on you, flow to evade.” The comms officer stated and then they hear Cyclone over the comms.

“There's nothing you can do in a goddamn F-18. Get home now. We'll launch search and rescue as soon as those bandits are out of the sky. I will not lose anyone else today!”

#jake seresin x oc #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #glen powell

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