#to anyone else who is frustrated by this game HI THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE! 👏💖

[insidekatmind]

In Your Arms-Jobe Bellingham

It was a quiet evening at home, but there was a certain tension in the air. Jobe had just come in, and his eyes looked duller than usual. He had had a rough day, and when he saw you, his face softened slightly, but the pain was still evident. You slowly approached, noticing how he was trying to avoid your gaze, as if he didn’t want to show you how much he was struggling.

"Jobe..." you called gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on? You seem upset."

He didn’t respond immediately. You could see him trying to hold back his emotions, but eventually, he sighed and looked down at the floor.

"I'm not enough... I'm not like Jude," he said in a quiet tone, frustration lacing his words. "Everyone expects me to be like him. But I can't. I'm not as good as him."

You knew he was talking about the pressure he felt, the constant comparison to his brother Jude, one of the most promising players in football. Jobe had always lived in Jude’s shadow, and it wasn’t easy. Even though he had talent, being compared to his brother made him feel inadequate.

You moved closer, gently stroking his cheek. "Jobe, you're incredible. You don't have to be like Jude. You’re you, and that's enough. You have your own talent, your own strength. There’s no need to compare yourself to anyone else."

He looked up at you, but his eyes were filled with uncertainty. "But... I never feel like I'm enough. And when I play, it feels like everyone expects me to do something extraordinary, but I can’t."

"Jobe, every game is different. Every player has their moment. You're not defined by one game or one result. You're so much more than that," you said with a reassuring smile. "I love watching you play, seeing how you always give it your all. And that makes you special."

Jobe’s eyes became misty, and for a moment, it seemed like he was about to break down. But instead of speaking, you pulled him into a tight embrace. You held him close, as if you wanted him to feel how important he was to you. "I see you. I see you for who you are. And there’s no one else who matters more to me."

His body slowly relaxed, and you felt his heartbeat calming, as if your presence was all he needed to feel safe. "Thank you," he whispered softly. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands. "You’ll never have to. I’m always here for you, Jobe. I love you.

His eyes warmed, and for a moment, it seemed like all the weight of his worries had lifted. His smile, though shy, was the sweetest thing you’d ever seen. "I love you too," he said, then kissed your forehead, his gesture full of gratitude and affection.

You sat on the couch, and he snuggled close to you, resting his head on your shoulder. His hands found yours, and you held them tightly, as a promise. There were no words needed in that moment. You just being there for him was enough.

[bitchlessdino]

mind your business (m)

Pairing: Frenemy!fem!reader x minder reader!chan

Genre: supernatural comedy, smut

Word count: 12.4k

tags: mean!reader, mean!chan, mentions needing to puke or die (both overdramtic af), implied consent (mind reading about desire and wants without audible consent), names (good girl or dirty girl), claustrophilia, stocking ripping, fingering, cunniligus, rough sex, brief spanking, unprotected sex.

Summary: If Chan had to read anyone’s mind, it had to be yours—the one person who seemed to loathe him with every ounce of your being. But before Halloween day, when that wish is suddenly granted, he begins to realize he’s opened a can of worms far bigger than he ever imagined—one that can’t be sealed shut again.

author note: hello, this bitch late but at least she's here thank you for @diamonddaze01 and @haologram for betareading for me i love yall and eveyone else enjoy!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys

“I don’t know what to be for Halloween.”

“Well, right now what you’re wearing is pretty scary.”

Lee Chan had never met anyone he couldn’t knock down a peg—not that he ever had to try. Everyone adored him, from classmates to coworkers, even Seungkwan, who followed his playful jabs with free lunches instead of a comeback. He was easygoing, always getting along with everyone. That is until you infiltrated his friend group. You weren’t like the others, and for the first time, Chan wasn’t sure if his effortless charm would be enough to dissolve your natural snark.

Chan shot you an unamused smile, his eyes narrowing as you answered his question. The two costumes he held drooped at his sides, a patient frustration written all over his features. “What are you even doing here if you won’t help me?”

You lifted your half-filled glass, the chill of the drink seeping through your fingers. “The free drinks, of course.”

“Of course,” he echoed dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Well, maybe leave the opinions to those who actually care, like Soonyoung here?”

Soonyoung beamed up at Chan, his excitement bubbling over as he playfully tugged at his friend’s hand like an overly enthusiastic toddler. “Aww, always here for you, buddy!”

You couldn’t resist a jab. “Well, if you did something interesting for once in your life, maybe I wouldn’t have to entertain myself.”

Chan groaned, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Never mind. I’m just going to pick something else. Make yourself useful and try to stay quiet, okay?”

You scoffed, getting up from the sofa seat. “Whatever. I’m gonna find something to eat.”

Chan tried his best to stay positive around you, but it was difficult when every social encounter turned into a game of mental chess. But instead of being an actual opponent, you acted like the master, playing with his temperament as if he were merely a pawn. It was exhausting—trying to keep things cordial while knowing you were always pushing his buttons, testing tolerance, and working against him as if your sarcastic replies and eyerolls carried a vindictive purpose.

Chan collapsed onto his bed the moment you left the room, feeling completely defeated. Now, it was just him and Soonyoung left to figure out what he should wear for Halloween, mere days away from now.

“Why is she always like that?” he muttered, focused on the wrong thing,

Soonyoung shrugged, scooting beside you with his legs crossed on the bed. “I’m sure she means well; she just has…her own way of showing it.”

Chan sat up, looking at him in disbelief. “She’s hated me since the moment we met at the New Year’s party, and I still don’t get why.”

“That’s not true.” Soonyoung reassured, gently patting his friend on the head. “Maybe your personalities just clash a bit. She gets along with everyone else in the building.”

“Yeah, but why?” Chan sighed. “What did I even do?”

Soonyoung gave him a reassuring pat. “Chan, it’s not your fault. I’m sure she’ll come around eventually.”

The more people like Soonyoung, or Seokmin, or Jeonghan reassured him that you’d come around, the less Chan believed it. It seemed like there would be nothing that could change your mind about him. Yet he couldn’t just accept that you disliked him for no reason. There had to be something behind the mean exterior, the jabs directed at either his character or even looks. Like he’s some kind of pushover. He would spend entire days wracking his brain, trying to understand why, and nothing would make sense. 

What made it worse was how much it bothered him—maybe because you saw each other almost daily, living in the same neighborhood. You’d grown close to everyone else like you were a permanent fixture here, but when it came to him, it felt like you went out of your way to get under his skin. Your cold glances, your sharp remarks, all seemed to gnaw at him, twisting him up inside like a steel knife in an already gashing wound (okay, maybe he was being dramatic). He just couldn’t stand it.

If he could, he’d look right into your mind, figure out what you were thinking, make sense of your actions, and—just maybe—finally understand why you behave the way you do.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it; there was a Halloween party to plan. Every year, the local gaming café downstairs—where he’d ironically ended up working at—hosted a Halloween bash with exclusive promotions. And every year, it was followed by a more exclusive all-out rager at his apartment, which he shared with a bunch of his friends above the cafe. It was something nearly everyone on the block looked forward to each year, and this time, Chan was in charge of the activities. The activities coordinator, Seungcheol had proclaimed.

That’s why Chan has been asking for all kinds of opinions lately, even yours. Being the natural people-pleaser he is, he felt as if he’d been running around everywhere to get everyone’s stamp of approval. He would go up and down, left and right, and even hold surveys at the cash register for strangers' opinions. He had a habit of making things perfect, and he wasn’t going to let your cynicism ruin it for him.

“Come on, help me figure out what to wear, bro. My night depends on it.”

Soonyoung had been helpful—thank goodness for that—and now that was one less problem to worry about, Chan felt a bit of relief. If he could just get through his shift at the cafe without losing his mind and manage to sneak in some few minutes of party planning, he would have a good day.

“You figure out what costume makes you look less of a loser, yet? Trick question, it really doesn’t matter what you pick. You’ll still look like a loser.”

Chan tilted his head, unfazed by your rude comments as he poured his tenth cup of ramen for the night—three of them for the same customer. “Why do you care? Don’t you have some puppies to kick?”

Your smile remained unfaltering, conniving as ever. “I cleared my schedule to help Seokmin and Soonyoung rank up. Wonwoo is playing with them this round. Just here to grab some Kickstart.”

“Ah, so another puppy is safe for a day from the wicked Witch of the West. Congratulations on your fleeting moment of decency.” He turned, striding over to the customers waiting for their ramen, while you annoyingly trailed closely behind. You grabbed your favorite blackberry Kickstart from the fridge, the bright can a stark contrast to the dim lighting of the café, and tossed a couple of crumpled bills in the direction of the cash register as if you’d done it before.

“You’re helping plan the Halloween party, right? Seungcheol mentioned it when I asked what I should bring,” you said, your tone almost too casual, as if you were friends.

Chan scoffed, carefully setting the steaming bowls of ramen down in front of the waiting customers before heading back to his station. “You, being courteous? That’s new. What do you want?”

With a sly smile, you leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I just wanted to let you know that if you really want to make the party fun, you can ask me. My ideas will probably be better than whatever you come up with.” The confidence in your voice made it clear you expected him to take you seriously, but how could he when every little word you managed to muster was belittling?

Chan grit his teeth, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He unscrewed the cap of a water bottle from the fridge and downed it in one swift gulp, the cool liquid barely offering any relief from his irritation. As he crushed the empty bottle in his hands, he aimed for the trash can but missed, the bottle clattering to the floor with a dull thud. Sounding exasperated, he bent down to pick it up, tossing it into the can with a bit more force than necessary.

Straightening up, he shot you a sharp glare. “I can handle it myself, thanks,” he muttered, his voice tight with annoyance.

“Really? Because I’m offering my help here,” you replied, your tone dripping with an offensive amount of condescending sincerity. “I’m being generous with my time and giving you the chance to create something…well, palatable from this party.” You exaggeratedly pretended to choose your words carefully, a teasing smile playing on your lips, poking at his alleged incompetence.

“You want to help?” Chan challenged, his tone cutting. “How about just enjoying the party instead of making it all about yourself? Some of us actually have work to do.”

He fixed you with a glare that held the slightest hint of malice before finally turning away and returning to his tasks.

“Defensive much?” you shot back, a glimpse of interest on your face as you raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he replied, his voice firm. “Just self-respecting.”

“Fine,” you said, turning back to your friends as you walked away. “Just don’t come begging for my help when your party goes to shit.”

Chan found himself screaming into his pillows that night, the fabric muffling his frustrated cries as he banged his head against them in sheer exasperation.

“What the heck is her deal?” he murmured to himself, his voice muffled and thick with irritation. He buried his face deeper into the pillows, desperate to escape the relentless thoughts fogging in his mind. The familiar scent of cotton and fabric softener offered very little comfort as he replayed the interaction over and over, making him as puzzled as ever.

He hadn’t experienced bullying like this since high school, a time when everyone was preoccupied with either being popular or getting into the best colleges. He was neither; instead, he was a secret third option: just trying to survive.

“Always making fun of me. Always belittling me. Always making me feel like crap.” He pulled the covers over his eyes, seeking refuge from his loud thoughts. “Why can’t she just tell me what I did to make her hate me? I’m not a mind reader.”

Unable to sleep, Chan gazed up at the night sky through his bedroom window, seeing it enveloped in the vast pitch-blackness pressing down like a weight. He took a steadying breath, hoping to clear his mind. Not a single star graced him with its presence—only the lone moon, barely there but still noticeable—how relatable—hanging in the sky like a quiet witness to his restless thoughts.

“I’m going insane here, so if there’s a god out there, could he—or she—make my life easier for the next few days? Just a little?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for superpowers like telepathy or anything. Just…let me pull off a party that everyone actually enjoys. Even her. Maybe then she won’t be so…her all the time.”

It was wishful thinking, but worth a shot, and if Chan was known for anything, it was taking chances—no matter how slim the odds.

Chan was somehow able to sleep that night finally, hair straying all over his face, until he sat up at the realization of a lack of a blaring alarm, “Oh, shit.”

His phone battery had died, and his charger defective and rendered useless. He scrambled to Seungcheol’s room next door, avoiding the obstacles of his shirts strewn across the floor, and plugged the bead phone to his housemate’s charger, impatiently tapping until the phone lit up to greet him.

9:48. Just about 18 minutes before his morning shift starts and almost no time to get ready. “Shit, shit.”

‘What’s that noise?’

Chan glanced over at Seungcheol, who was sprawled out across his bed, a half-conscious casualty of the previous night’s escapades. It seemed he’d had company, judging by the tangled mess of clothes scattered on the floor, and apparently, they'd had more than just a “decent” time.

“Sorry, Cheol. Gotta borrow your charger. I’ll bring it back later.”

Seungcheol’s response was a muffled groan, his arm barely twitching in acknowledgment. Within the incoherent noise, Chan could just make out the unspoken message: ‘Just go away.’

“Got it, see you at work, buddy,” Chan muttered, plugging in his phone with a quick tap to check the time before heading for the door.

Another groan drifted from the bed, thick with irritation. ‘So loud.’

Chan got himself ready in a hurry, forgoing a shower and compensating with an extra-long brush of his teeth and a thick layer of deodorant. Fresh breath and a quick spritz of cologne would have to do for today. The cafe would be filled with people who wouldn’t care anyway.

He rushed downstairs to clock in, throwing on an apron over his lackluster clothes and prepping the makeshift kitchen in the back.

‘Ugh, my back is killing me.’

Chan turned at the faint sound of a familiar voice, spotting Minghao slouched in one of the worn chairs in the employees-only room, head leaned back, eyes half-closed in what looked like exhaustion.

“Hey, Hao. You okay?”

Minghao glanced up, his face breaking into a grin that seemed a bit forced, but reassuring nonetheless. “Morning, Chan. Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Just checking in—I thought I heard you say something about your back?”

Minghao’s grin faded into a puzzled expression, brow furrowing as if he were rewinding through his own memory. “Hmm? I didn’t say anything. But… Now that you mention it, my back has been sore lately. All the competitions piling up, you know? Guess martial arts are starting to weigh down on this old, elderly body of mine.” He chuckled at his own self-deprecating joke.

Chan gave a sympathetic nod. “Well, if you need a break, just take one, alright? I’m sure Seungcheol or Jeonghan wouldn’t mind.”

Minghao’s smile softened. “Thanks, little buddy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chan smiled back. “Anytime.”

As Chan turned to leave, he heard a voice, faint but unmistakable, despite the owner of the voice being in the same room: ‘Chan’s a good kid.’ 

He paused mid-step, his eyes widening as he processed the thought, lingering in the air like a distant echo. He looked back at Minghao, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Did…did you just say something?”

Minghao chuckled, giving him a casual wave as if everything were normal. “No? I’ll be out in a sec. How about you go warm up the coffee pot for me, hmm?”

“Got it…” Chan said, hesitating as he walked out, still glancing over his shoulder, his mind racing with questions. Had he really heard that voice? Or was exhaustion playing tricks on him? 

He flipped the cash register on, the familiar hum filling the quiet of the early morning. Chan meticulously counted the bills, making sure he had the right amount of change and neatly stacked cash, each dollar lined up perfectly. Once satisfied, he moved to the glass door, flicking the open sign to life with a soft click. The neon light flickered, casting a bright and loud, welcoming invitation to anyone passing by. Chan took a deep breath, feeling the calm before the inevitable rush.

‘I hope they have the good ramen and not that crappy store brand shit. You can totally tell the difference.’

The voice drifted into Chan’s mind, oddly clear and distinct as if someone were speaking right beside him—except no one was there. The words had a casual, almost lazy tone, echoing in his head like the distant buzz of a radio left on in another room. His gaze darted around the empty shop, his pulse quickening as he scanned the quiet space, lit only by the harsh glow of the neon open sign.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss it, but the words still lingered, as if they were waiting for him to acknowledge them. This voice, like Minghao’s earlier, felt close yet completely detached, belonging to someone…elsewhere.

The chimes on the door jingled, pulling Chan from his thoughts as he glanced up to see a familiar figure. Finally, he could match the voice he’d been hearing to a face.

“Hey, Chan. The usual, please,” Beomgyu greeted, his tone dry, with the same dark circles under his eyes from late-night gaming marathons.

‘Is it me, or does he look shittier than usual?’ The words echoed in Chan’s mind, clear as if spoken aloud, though Beomgyu’s lips never moved. Chan froze, the unexpected comment hitting him square in the chest—both offending and unnerving him.

“Excuse me?” Chan retorted, defensively narrowing his eyes.

Beomgyu blinked, looking slightly taken aback. “Uh… the usual? Kimchi ramen with cheese and a Cherry slush?”

‘Man, hasn’t he worked here for, like, a year? Doesn’t he have this down by now?’

“What? Of course, I do!” Chan shot back, his voice sharp with irritation.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, now clearly baffled. “Dude, what are you talking about? Just give me my stuff.”

Chan swallowed, feeling a strange tension creeping over him. He forced himself to look down, suddenly unsure whether he was hearing Beomgyu–or actually going insane.

“Right. Sorry. It'll be out in a second,” Chan mumbled, suddenly sheepish as he accepted the cash, his usual confidence thrown off-kilter.

Beomgyu gave him a lingering, puzzled look before shrugging it off and drifting over to his usual seat in the corner. As he walked away, Chan felt an odd prickling sensation in the back of his mind—the familiar voice filtering through, more unsettling this time.

‘Has he gone psycho or something?’

Chan’s heart skipped, his eyes widening slightly as he processed the words that had somehow entered his mind, clear as day, despite Beomgyu’s silent, closed lips. His fingers clenched the counter as he steadied himself, wondering if he was finally cracking under the stress or if something far stranger was at play.

‘Another day, another W!’

Another voice then grew louder, closer, and was growing more anxious, sweat beading down his forehead out of bewilderment. What in the fuck was happening?

Seokmin emerged from the doors, seeing Chan with a bright smile as he leaned up against the counter. “Hi Chan, a couple of sprites and two orders of rose spicy rice cakes please.”

‘I’ma burn through iron into silver today. I just know it!’

Chan’s hands hovered over the register, a sense of déjà vu creeping over him as he felt the words echo in his mind. His fingers shook slightly as he pressed the buttons. “Y-you trying to rank up in Overwatch again today?” he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

Seokmin laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! Wonwoo and Jeonghan are coming by to play on their day off.”

‘Ooh, I should check if they have that series in stock again. I missed it last time.’

“What series were you looking for again?” Chan asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he glanced up from the register.

Seokmin blinked, a little startled, clearly wondering how Chan had guessed. “Oh yeah, I was gonna ask about it. What was it called again?” ‘Kindergarden wars–’

“Kindergarten Wars, right? The Kindergarten Cop of Manga? That one?” Chan asked, his voice coming out a bit too smooth for his own comfort.

Seokmin’s eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping him. “Whoa, I just barely remembered the title! You’re on a roll, buddy. But yeah, that’s the one! Do you have it in stock?”

“Yeah, we should have a few copies in. I’ll grab one for you when your order’s ready,” Chan replied, managing a grin, though stark comparison to the panic festering in his body.

"Aw, you’re the best, Chan. Thanks!” Seokmin flashed a wide grin as he swiped his card, practically bouncing toward his usual corner. He arranged a couple of chairs, setting up a cozy little space for his friends, buzzing around like a busy bee as he prepped the area, clearly itching to dive into his day.

Meanwhile, Chan’s nerves were going through it. He kept glancing at the entrance, anxiety creeping up his spine as he wondered if the next person through the door would, once again, broadcast their every thought straight into his head. Just thinking about it made him want to puke, the effects of the bizarre events not dissipating in the slightest.

The rest of Chan’s day became a relentless cascade of intrusive thoughts, each one amplifying the disquiet simmering inside him. Every new customer brought a fresh wave of private musings, some harmless, others startlingly personal, or worse yet, straight creepy. The sheer volume of it all began to blur together into an overwhelming hum.

‘Fuck not again.’

‘Hell yeah, a new skin!’

‘He’s so annoying I wish he would just die already.’

‘I swear, they said ‘one more game’ like an hour ago.’

‘They’re all trash. Worthless. I’m surrounded by idiots who can’t play for shit.’

‘They won’t last. She’ll cheat on him, or he’ll leave her. It’s inevitable.’

The familiar buzz of the cafe felt unusually oppressive, almost suffocating, as Chan struggled to tune out the voices around him. He found himself straining to differentiate between what was actually spoken and what slipped uninvited into his mind, the line between reality and thought as thin as it was maddening.

"Hey, Hao, I’m gonna take five."

Chan didn’t wait for a reply. He bolted out of the business and up the narrow staircase to his residence, his pulse hammering in his ears. The familiar murmur of echoing voices trailed him, each step feeling heavier than the last, the whispers chasing him even as he tried to leave them behind. It wasn't until he closed the door with a soft but resolute click that they faded, now hushed but still there. Haunting him.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the echo of voices still faintly buzzing in his mind. His hands tightened in his hair, fingers digging in as if grounding himself might silence the flood.

He shut his eyes, breathing in uneven breaths as he clamped his hands over his ears and somehow soothing the thoughts determined to run rampant. But every time he let his guard down, snippets of thought would slip through—fragmented phrases, stray judgments, random anxieties—taking up headspace like ghosts he couldn’t shake. 

‘Why does he get everything? It should be me.’

‘The world would be better off without most of them, if not all.’

‘Where the hell is my ramen?’

‘I hope I didn’t get stood up. I sent her Uber money.’

Nothing about this made sense. It was impossible—just yesterday, his life had been normal, and now he was hearing voices that sounded exactly like his friends’ private thoughts, whether he wanted to or not. This wasn’t some supernatural CW drama, no Halloween special with a secret message all along for the protagonist. This was real life, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was somehow…reading minds.

The thought sparked a fresh jolt of panic, twisting his insides into knots. It was a fear he hadn’t known lurked within him, clawing its way to the surface and leaving his stomach churning. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to force it away, to dismiss it as some ridiculous, passing delusion. But the voices only grew louder, like an insistent, rising tide that wouldn’t let him brush this off as a mere joke or a temporary glitch in the simulation. No, they clung to him, refusing to fade—unyielding, pressing against his mind as if daring him to question his own sanity.

Then there was a knock. Soft at first, followed by the hesitant creak of the door easing open. Chan barely registered it, too consumed by the relentless flood of thoughts racing through his head, repeating to himself, “You’re not real, you’re not real…”

“Chan?”

His eyes flew open, finally taking in the figure silhouetted in the doorway—you. Your expression was a blend of concern and hesitation as you stepped cautiously into his room. A pang of surprise coursed through him, igniting a spark of defensiveness that flared to life within him, seeing you making the weight on his head worse. He forced himself to hold your gaze, feeling exposed under the weight of your possible scrutiny. “W-what do you want?” he stammered, the words escaping him in apprehension.

You raised an eyebrow, though your usual edge seemed softened. “Minghao asked me to come get you. He’s worried. Looks like he was right—finally lost your mind, or something?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he hissed, barely keeping his voice steady.

You raised an eyebrow. “Chan—”

“Save it.” He cut you off, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing as he took a half-step back, almost as if he expected you to throw something back his way. Just as you always have. “I’m not gonna take whatever crap you’re planning, so if that’s your game, just forget it.”

You blinked, caught off guard, a flash of irritation tightening your expression. “Wow,” you muttered, crossing your arms with a look that was half offense, half amusement. “Who the hell pissed in your cereal?”

“I’m not feeling well, alright? And you don’t make it any easier. If you think I’m going to keep letting you walk all over me, forget it. Go pick on someone else.”

“Wow, look at you finally picking up your backbone from the floor,” you taunted, slowly closing the distance between you. Your voice dripped with mockery as you studied him, taking in the tense lines of his posture and the way his jaw clenched in irritation. “If this is about the party, the offer still stands. I know what I said, but—”

“But nothing. I didn’t need your help then, and I don’t need it now. Just piss off.” His voice cut through the air, sharp and defensive, as if he was trying to shield himself from your probing.

“Ooh, look at you using big words,” you snickered tilting your head as you leaned in slightly, your eyes narrowing in challenge. “Is all the stress of pleasing everyone finally catching up to you? Or are you just realizing you’re not capable of doing something that requires responsibility?”

Chan stepped closer, piercing through you with a sharp glare as your smile broadened, infused with a stubborn determination that only irritated him further. No matter what he said, you remained resolute, and he could sense his resolve beginning to crack under the weight of your taunts, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Or,” he began, feeling the voice in his head finally recede as a surge of courage washed over him. “I have so much of my own shit going on. Ever thought about that? Now, why don't you turn around and mind your goddamn business before  I should teach you how to shut up while I’m at it.” The dominance in his tone surprised even him, and for the first time, he felt like he was finally in control of himself and his newfound ability.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes, the way it deepened the timbre of his voice, radiating uncontainable energy you’d never seen from Chan before. The confidence that once danced in your gaze faltered, giving way to a glint of surprise as you struggled to hold onto your composure. Your lips parted slightly, words caught in your throat as you processed his unexpected boldness—and the effect it was having on you.

‘Holy shit.’

Your voice echoed in his mind, sending a thrill through him as his lips stretched from ear to ear menacingly. Finally—finally—he was the one with the upper hand.

“What? Nothing to say now?” he challenged, relishing the moment.

‘Holy shit, he’s so hot when he’s mad.’

Confusion softened his features for a brief moment, and he couldn’t help but let out a, “What?”

“I…I didn’t say anything.”

‘Oh god, am I sweating? Can he smell me? Holy shit, he’s so close to me right now.’

Chan wasn’t sure what he was hearing right now. Especially whatever this was. His mind was already spinning from the obnoxiously loud and relentless voices echoing in his head from earlier—this was something else. The anxiety of your voice in his head, laced with something vulnerable he’s never seen in you before, threw him off-kilter. He felt heat creep into his cheeks as he processed the stray thoughts that weren’t his own, thoughts that broke through the background noise with an unexpected force.

He drew in a breath, barely steady, as he took in every flicker of your expression—the way your lips quivered as if on the edge of saying something, then closed again, and how your gaze dropped just briefly, as if to gather strength, before lifting to meet his, defiant but with a hint of uncertainty in your gaze. That simmering frustration from earlier dissolved, replaced by a charged curiosity that spread through him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, letting his words roll out slowly, teasingly, testing the waters of this sudden change in power.

You glanced up, eyes widening slightly as if caught off guard, your shoulders tensing as though bracing against an invisible force. He could practically feel the hurried, jumbled thoughts in your head racing, flickering across your face—hesitation, curiosity, that rare glint of resolve that never seemed to completely fade. It was almost…endearing.

The moment felt charged, like standing on the brink of something electrifying and forbidden. Chan found himself leaning into it, savoring the way his voice dropped, roughened, responding instinctively to this unguarded version of you.

“What?” he murmured, his smile laced with challenge. “Cat got your tongue?”

You drew in a slow breath, fingers clutching the doorframe behind you as if anchoring yourself, your gaze flickering from his face to his hands and then back again, as though the very air around you had thinned. 

"Just…” Your voice faltered, lingering in the air, yet you held his gaze, a reluctant tension in your eyes, as if resisting an urge falling deep down a pit you’ve already managed to avoid for so long.

“Just what?” he pressed, amusement saturating his tone, relishing in your timid silence.

You hesitated, pressing your lips together before looking away. “Just… get back to work,” you muttered, fingers clenching the door frame for a moment before finally releasing it as you turned to go.

‘That…was crazy.’

Chan watched you leave, barely holding back a grin as a strange, exhilarating sense of control lingered. For the first time, he felt like he had turned the tables. This bizarre predicament suddenly had its perks.

As the thought settled, another realization dawned: maybe these powers—or whatever they were—could be harnessed. And you, of all people, might just be the key. Finally, it seemed you had some use after all.

The rest of the day passed with surprising ease, a sense of control settling over Chan as he slowly came to terms with this new ability. Whatever this was, if it meant you kept your distance and stayed in check, now it was about time you tasted a bit of your own medicine.

Meanwhile, you kept to the far side of the room, throwing him occasional glances that were equal parts wary and curious, as if still processing the shift that had unfolded between you. The quiet in your demeanor was foreign—almost like a subtle retreat—but Chan could still hear every single thought racing through your mind, echoing around him, feeding his ego.

‘Fuck, why is he looking at me like that?’

The echo of your uncertainties only made Chan’s grin widen. Each new thought layered itself over the rest, but somehow, yours always came through with striking clarity, as if your mind was the loudest voice in the room. He wasn’t sure if he was honing in on it by instinct or if his newfound ability had a mind of its own, drawn to you by sheer force of will—or intrigue.

‘It’s like he’s seeing right through me…oh my god, can you see my underwear or something? I’m gonna kill myself.’

You visibly clenched your thighs, turning away from Chan to avoid his gaze but he was the only thing on his mind. You couldn’t even enjoy the game you were playing anymore. 

‘God, he looks really good…makes me wanna take him in the back and tie my hair up–shit, how long is gonna stare at me?’

As each thought drifted by, Chan skillfully sifted through the chaos, honing in on the captivating essence of your unguarded musings. A swell of pride blossomed within him as he recognized that this ability to read minds might not be a curse after all; it was a remarkable gift, one potent enough to give him control over someone as difficult as you

"Leaving so soon, dearest customer?” Chan drawled, leaning against the wall by the exit, his eyes tracking every movement as you gathered your things, your grip tightening around the strap of your backpack.

‘Was he…waiting for me?’

He scoffed, removing his name tag as he did at the end of every shift, a knowing glint in his eyes as he held your gaze, refusing to look away. “You just seem…distant. Thought I’d check in.”

‘He was thinking about me?’ The thought sparked something in you, and you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Maybe you should focus on yourself for once, and I don’t mean…” Your gaze flickered downward before snapping back up, warmth spreading up your neck.

‘Not that I’d be entirely against it,’ you thought with a quiet chuckle.

With a step forward, his confidence seemed to fill the space between you, his eyes sweeping over you with a boldness that made you catch your breath. He regarded you with a half-lidded gaze, as though he could see through you, a look that sent a prickle of goosebumps over your skin. “Only you would make my concern for you about my genitals,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “Think about them often, do you?”

You nearly stumbled, his words unraveling your composure as he turned your teasing back on you with a mastery that left you momentarily speechless. “You…”

“Was I on the money? It’s showing on your face.”

You shook your head lightly, brushing past him without a word, pretending the encounter hadn’t rattled you. But as you moved, he followed, a faint smirk lingering as he kept pace just behind you, relishing in the control he held. Chan tuned into the steady stream of thoughts he could almost feel buzzing around your mind—every second of fluster, every trace of hesitation.

With each step, he could sense your resolve slipping, see the barely concealed tension in your hurried stride as you exited the café, almost like you were running but with no clear destination in mind. And he kept watching, unhurried, savoring every moment as he let his presence linger just enough to keep himself quietly literally in the back of your mind, conflicted with the current predicament.

“Where are you going? You never did answer my question,” he called after you, his tone deceptively casual.

You scoffed, refusing to let your stride falter. “You’re being weird today.”

‘Need to stop myself from jumping him with the way he’s looking at me,’ your thoughts betrayed you, louder than you’d like.

He raised an eyebrow, matching your pace with ease. “Speak for yourself. It’s like you can’t help but avoid me. Almost like you’re hiding something.”

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you forced yourself to meet his eyes, though the effort was as shaky as it was bold. “Wow, nosy much? If I didn’t know better, Chan, I’d think you’re obsessed with me or something.” ‘If that’s the case, God smite me right now.’

“Sounds like you’re projecting.” Chan closed the gap between you, stepping so close only a half-arm’s length separated you. His eyes swept over you, catching the subtle quiver you tried to hide. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your obsession is the reason you can barely look me in the eyes right now. Or maybe you’re undressing me with them. Is that it?”

‘Please, for Christ’s sake, I am two seconds away from tearing the clothes off your back and making you shut up with my mouth,’ the thought flashed hot and unfiltered, betraying you in every glance.

Chan’s grin widened, reveling in the crackling tension radiating from you. "Careful with where your eyes are going," he murmured, voice low and teasing. “You don’t know what I might have to do about it if you don’t.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving you rooted in place, your final unguarded thoughts echoing in his head as he went back home.

‘Maybe that's all I want to do now.’

In the days leading up to Halloween, you’d been keeping your distance, and Chan’s telepathic abilities showed no signs of fading. Every day, you kept to the same routine—avoiding his gaze, interacting with your shared friends, and hiding those unspeakably dirty thoughts behind a prissy, composed facade. At first, Chan found it amusing, this secret insight into your mind, but as the days wore on, he became more curious, more intrigued. How much of what you showed the world actually aligned with those hidden, guilty desires?

His gaze drifted to the costume hanging in his closet like an eyesore—a dinosaur suit that, though comical, would probably have him sweating profusely all night. Then there was Soonyoung’s “thirst trap” suggestion, an outfit that showed way more skin, something Chan had immediately rejected and returned but still left in the back of his mind. However, an idea began to take shape, a clever compromise that might just keep your attention exactly where he wanted it. For experimental reasons, of course.

You didn’t come into work that day, likely dodging him on purpose, which only left Chan to navigate the usual mundane thoughts of the café’s patrons—mostly comments about costumes or Halloween plans. Without your thoughts slipping into his mind, the day seemed flat, dull even.

“Hey, Chan.” ‘Hello body-ody-ody.’

Chan caught Jeonghan’s stare as he stood there in a rabbit costume, the moment stretching out just a beat too long. Chan’s confidence wavered just a bit, a warm flush creeping up his neck as he glanced down, lightly fiddling with the arms of his dinosaur onesie, which were tied loosely around his waist. He was half-bare beneath the café lights, with only a simple chain dangling around his neck, and suddenly the whole look felt a little bolder than he’d intended.

He let out a nervous chuckle, his voice softening as he managed, “Uh…am I doing too much?” He could feel his cheeks warm as he looked up again, almost as if he expected Jeonghan to burst out laughing any second. But instead, Jeonghan’s expression softened, a crooked smile forming, clearly more amused than anything.

“...Huh? Oh, sorry, I was looking at your body.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed as he instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. “Bro,” he muttered, clearly flustered.

“Chan, you’re fine. It’s Halloween, dressing like a slut is normal in this time of year.” Jeonghan clapped him on the shoulder.

“Jeonghan…”Chan murmured, half-scolding but feeling even more self-conscious under Jeonghan’s praise.

“In fact, I’m happy you’re finally putting yourself out here. I would think the eye candy I hired would sell himself off a little more,” Jeonghan chuckled to himself, thinking, ‘And man, did I nail that hire.’

Chan blinked, stunned. “You’re joking.”

‘I’m not,’ Jeonghan thought proudly, then said aloud, “I’m not.” Jeonghan’s devilish smile widened as he subtly nodded toward the crowd filling the café. Among the usual patrons were a few fresh faces, particularly a growing group of college-aged girls who seemed unable to keep their eyes off Chan.

Chan’s thoughts drifted back to that morning. He’d been in the stockroom, reorganizing supplies while Minghao ran the front, completely unaware of the number of glances that had slipped through the cracked door, trailing over him as he worked. Now, seeing the lingering stares, he realized his costume had sparked more than just Halloween spirit—it had created quite a stir, evening out it’s usually male dominated atmosphere.

Now he was starting to wonder if he’d been filtering out the roaming thoughts a little too well, considering what he’d missed:

‘What is that costume even…? Actually, I don’t even care. He’s so yummy…’

‘I’m literally drooling. Oh my god, he just looked at me—I’m shaking.’

‘Did guys this hot always work here? Guess I’ll have to come by more often now.’

‘I kind of want to get his number…maybe then he’d let me ride his—’

Chan's eyes widened as the wave of unabashed admiration washed over him. He hadn’t expected this much attention, and a shy grin crept onto his face. “I-I get it now. Um… wow.”

He threw a timid glance toward their corner, and the response was immediate: the girls erupted in muffled squeals, giggling and whispering as if sharing secrets too wild to be spoken aloud. Their eyes gleamed with a mix of awe and infatuation, lingering on him even as they leaned into each other, cheeks flushed, exchanging looks that made Chan feel both flattered and exposed.

“See? You’re a staple here, and you’re doing great,” Jeonghan said with a grin. “Rack up those tips, and when you clock out, fill me in on any last-minute details about the party tonight. Just in case I missed anything.”

“Sure, Jeonghan.”

Now that Chan had come to terms with the fact that his costume was effective for a similar demographic, a swell of confidence bubbled within him that you would react the same. All he needed now was a chance to show it off to the right person. But as he glanced around the café, scanning for you amidst the crowd, a tinge of disappointment set in. Despite the lively atmosphere filled with laughter and chatter of the spooky festivities, you were nowhere to be found, and he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe he was the reason.

As the hour drew nearer, Chan felt a growing sense of frustration. Maybe he had been misreading your thoughts all along, or perhaps his powers were glitching today. The very idea of having such abilities was absurd, yet here he was, confused as to why he couldn’t detect your voice. He needed to make sense of it all. How could you swing from hating him one moment to lusting after him the next, only to ghost him entirely? Each possibility twisted in his mind, leaving him feeling more lost than ever. The anticipation that had once excited him now felt heavy with uncertainty, gnawing at his confidence just as he was getting used to it.

Seungcheol’s voice rang out with a mix of authority and enthusiasm, echoing through the bustling café. His energy was infectious, as he gestured animatedly, urging everyone to transition from the work grind to the festive spirit. With his usual flair, he rallied the team, his eyes sparkling with excitement for whatever chaos awaited them upstairs. The air buzzed with anticipation as he clapped his hands together, urging the staff to shake off the day’s fatigue and dive into the night’s festivities.

Meanwhile, Chan busied himself with the final preparations for the party, glancing at the door every few moments, hoping to see you walk through it finally. He didn’t have much of a plan but he had the spirit of one, bouncing off in the corners of his mind like the vibrant colors of the haunted jungle punch sloshing around in his red Solo cup. The punch was fruity and something strong, but it did little to calm his growing anticipation. 

Despite the cheerful atmosphere around him, he fought to maintain a carefree demeanor, all while tuning out the cacophony of voices in his head. Racy thoughts and flirtations from other partygoers echoed through his mind, but none of it held the same thrill as the prospect of hearing your voice. Each thought was a distraction, a reminder of the palpable heat that he felt on his skin when he heard your thoughts for the first time and how it made his heart clench for a reason other than annoyance.

He could almost visualize the energy you brought with you, the way your laughter lit up the room, and how your teasing remarks made his pulse pick up pace. Chan found himself nursing the drink, hoping the sugar and alcohol would somehow bridge the gap between him and you not being here like he hoped you’d be. The raucous fun around him only intensified his longing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wouldn’t be complete without you by his side.

‘Oh, fuck.’

It hit him like the chime of a clock striking the hour, electrifying and undeniable. Your voice echoed in his mind, pulling his attention as if drawn by an invisible force. He turned to see you entering through the doors, your presence instantly commanding the room.

Your gaze locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. You were enveloped in a dress of the deepest black, hugging your form from chest to waist before flaring out dramatically and hitting just above your knees. Sheer green tights adorned your legs, glimmering under the soft lights, and a pointed hat crowned your head. You were a vision of the Wicked Witch of the West and Chan could see that never had he thought that vision could be so alluring.

In that moment, everything around him dissolved—the laughter, the music, the chatter of partygoers—as his entire focus narrowed in on you. You were breathtaking, igniting something primal within him that he thought he could shut off. But—

‘I could eat you up, Lee Chan.’

A smile tugged at his lips as he followed after you, sharing the same sentiment as your unspoken hunger. “Took you long enough.”

‘Mmh, so he was waiting for me. Again.’

“Didn’t realize you were waiting for me.” Your chuckle was laced with arrogance. ‘Where the hell is his shirt? And why couldn’t he have given me the pleasure of taking it off?’

“You’ve been avoiding me, which is unusual for you,” Chan remarked sarcastically, watching intently as you poured yourself a drink, bending his arm in a way that not-so-effortlessly flexed his upper arms. “And you didn’t come by the café at all today.” He leaned in slightly, narrowing his gaze. “I thought it might have something to do with me.”

“You?” Your incredulity echoed in your mind. ‘Lee Chan? You were worried about me?’

You stepped closer, invading his space with a confidence that sent a thrill through him. Your gaze traced a deliberate path from his eyes, down the strong line of his jaw, pausing to appreciate the way the light danced across his bare skin. It dipped lower, gliding over the defined contours of his chest, each muscle accentuated by the flickering glow of the party lights. You lingered at his waistband, taking in the way the fabric clung to him seductively.

As your eyes returned to his, there was a spark of mischief in them that didn’t need mind reading to understand, leaving the recipient breathless. The air between you seemed to thrum with unspoken words but clear dialogue, thick with a tension that wrapped around you both. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, drawing him closer to you. The world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in this charged moment, as if the very atmosphere crackled with anticipation.

“Yeah. Me.” Chan confirmed, his grin widening.

“Well, look who took the time to finally make it.” You both felt a weight on your shoulders as someone drove in between you both, becoming the deli meat in this strange sandwich. 

Soonyoung hugged his cheeks between your faces and grinned, oblivious as always to his surroundings. “Hey, guys.”

‘Good, I stopped the fight before they decked it out in front of everyone.’ 

“Hey, Soonyoung,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist and forcing a smile. “I see you’re recycling your costume from last year.”

“Uh, it’s not a reuse! This is clearly a brand-new bodysuit, complete with paws!” He lifted his tiger mitts dramatically, waving them in front of your face as if trying to convince you of their novelty. “Very new and totally fierce!”

“Oh, of course, you look good.” You chuckled, genuinely appreciating his energy.

Soonyoung then turned his attention to Chan, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa, Chan! Look at you, buddy! I told you showing off a little skin would do you good, and wow, look at all this!”

He let out an exaggerated whistle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Our sexy little dinosaur! You’re making all the other costumes look bad!”

“Okay, okay, thanks, Soon.” Chan let out a hearty laugh, a flush of embarrassment creeping across his cheeks as he playfully patted his friend’s shoulder. He quickly shrugged him off, attempting to create a buffer to ward off Soonyoung’s inevitable groping.

“Oh, so that’s what you’re supposed to be,” You teased, “Couldn’t tell from the lack of clothes.”

Chan snorted, his amusement bubbling to the surface. “I’m clearly showcasing my costume from the waist down—tail included,” he said, gesturing dramatically. “But just remember, even if my costume is down there…” He raised his fingers and motioned to his eyes, an impish glint in his gaze “…my eyes are definitely up here.”

‘What if I want to look at what’s underneath the costume?’

‘What’s going on here...?”

Chan can’t help but grin at the challenge in your eyes while blatantly ignoring the confusion in Soonyoung’s.

“Showing off the merchandise but not letting people browse? You’re not exactly running a lucrative business here, Lee Chan.” 

“Who says I’m running a business?” Chan shot back with a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “I’m simply looking for..exclusive clientele.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, an invitation wrapped in flirtation.

‘I might have to sample a bit of that to see if it’s to my taste, which I’m sure it will be,’ you thought, wishing you could say it out loud. Instead, a soft giggle escaped your lips, though Chan caught the thought loud and clear. A playful grin spread across his face, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he leaned in just a little closer, seeing the playfulness dance in your eyes.

“You guys are speaking weird,” Soonyoung chimed in, his words slightly slurred as the effects of the alcohol began to show. He swayed a little, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

Chan patted his striped friend on the back with a friendly nudge. “Why don’t you check if Jihoon needs help with the music, buddy? You’d be a real asset.” 

“Oh, I would be so good at that!” Soonyoung declared, practically bouncing on his heels before darting off with uncontainable enthusiasm.

Chan turned back to you, arching an eyebrow with a playful glint in his eye, eager to stretch out the moment. “So, did you bring anything special to offer?”

“Just some wine that Minghao practically wrestled away from me when I walked through the front door,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a feigned exasperation. “Have you sorted out those party games you were so excited about?”

“Should be starting in a couple of minutes,” he assured, his gaze flicking around the party setup, but the warmth of his attention remained fixed on you. “In the meantime, feel free to indulge in the snacks or candy. They’re just as sweet as you.”

‘Oh?’

“How thoughtful of you,” you compliment, pleasantly surprised.

“Forgot to mention the warheads, but still considerably sweet.”

The night unfolded like a game of push and pull, with Chan pulling you in more than he ever had before. The playful tension crackled between you, and he could tell that the idea of playing hard to get was on your mind tonight. Even with all the distractions around you, your thoughts were surprisingly coherent—you wanted Chan, and he knew it. Yet you refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. That was when he realized that the party games he had planned would serve as the perfect tool to tilt the odds in his favor.

“Alright, everyone, gather around! On behalf of our activities coordinator, Chan, I’ll be hosting the game he selected for us tonight. Why don’t you tell us what it is, Chan?” Seungcheol announced, his tone playful as he gestured for Chan to take the spotlight.

Chan stepped forward, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Tonight, we’ll be playing manhunt—a twist on hide and seek with major stakes. The last person standing will win a grand prize, and the seeker who finds the most players will earn a reward just as significant. There will be three seekers.” He paused for effect, relishing the eager anticipation in the room. “The rules are simple: (1) no running, (2) you must reveal yourself once your name is called, and (3) most importantly, have fun. The prizes will be unveiled after the game ends.”

Vernon raised his hand eagerly. “Is the prize money?”

“Vernon, what did I just say?” Chan replied, suppressing a grin as he earned a solemn nod in response.

“Is there a time limit?” Mingyu chimed in, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“Forty minutes.”

Wonwoo started to raise his hand. “What about—”

“Enough questions!” Seungcheol interrupted, chuckling as he saw the anticipation on everyone’s faces. “Chan, pick your seekers.”

Chan rubbed his hands together, a cocky smile spreading across his face as he surveyed the crowd, already knowing who he wanted. “I choose Joshua, Seokmin, and myself. While Seungcheol counts to twenty, the rest of you will scatter and hide.” His grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. “And remember, don’t get caught. Losers will face punishment, too,” he added, eliciting a collective groan from the group.

Seungcheol stood in the middle of the room, gesturing for the helpers to shut off all the lights, leaving the entire floor of the building pitch black and ready for the taking. “Starting now. Twenty… nineteen… eighteen…”

The harmonious sound of footsteps retreated from the room, the darkness perfectly concealing any shadows that might betray anyone’s position. Chan needed no light to do what he had to do but turned on his phone camera the moment the counting ended. He met the eyes of his fellow seekers, barely visible in the glow of their phone lights, anticipation clear on their faces. “We’ll cover our own ground until we run out of places to search, then it’s a free-for-all,” Joshua suggested.

“Got it. I’ll head out first,” Chan insisted, earning a collective nod and finding his own path.

He navigated through the stream of thoughts, weaving between them like a radio dial tuning into a specific frequency, determined to hone a singular voice. 

‘Ugh, why did I have to choose this one to hide in? This is such a bad idea.’

Chan smiled recognizing the familiar pitch, beelining straight for the sound, passing the other voices that may interrupt his route.

In a singular room, his in particular, you were the only one loud enough to break through.

‘Oh, shit, someone’s here. Please go away, please go away.’

No matter how carefully you tried to muffle your presence, it radiated from the closet, an open invitation to Chan’s mind-reading senses. He crept closer, footsteps soft as whispers, his hand hovering over the knob. With a slow, deliberate movement, he eased it open, revealing your figure barely concealed behind the racks of his half-filled closet. Your eyes darted to his, and a quiet “Fuck…” slipped out as he stepped inside, claiming the cramped space beside you.

The closet was shadowed in near-darkness, the room's lights off, but a sliver of moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating through the slits of the closet in faint, wispy beams. As your eyes adjusted, you could just make out the silhouette of Chan, his figure close, a playfully smug smile catching the dim light as he settled in front of you.

‘What is he–’

Chan lifted a finger to his lips, signaling for silence before you could utter a protest. His eyes held yours with an intensity that had your pulse racing, each beat a rapid tattoo under the thin skin of your neck. Footsteps echoed faintly from the hallway outside, the other seekers passing by Chan’s room without a second thought, oblivious to the two of you hidden mere inches apart.

‘He’s so close. He smells so good,’ you thought, the hint of his cologne making your breath hitch. Chan couldn’t help the tiny grin tugging at his lips—props to him for choosing the good cologne today.

‘He’s practically pressed against me. Is this what dying and going to heaven feels like?’

Chan stifled a laugh, stepping even closer, until the heat radiating from his skin was undeniable. In a whisper, he teased, “Try not to get caught.”

“But you—” you started, barely finding your voice to remind him that he was in fact one of the people you’re not supposed to get caught from, only to have it die on your lips as his hand pressed lightly on the wall beside you, leaving little room to breathe, let alone escape.

“Shh,” he murmured, eyes glinting as he held you captive against the panel, a hair’s breadth away. 

“Chan…” you murmured, half-breathless, gazing up at him with a mixture of confusion and exhilaration as the closeness left you dizzy, the space between you charged and impossibly small.

His eyes drifted down, seeing your lips pursed slightly in direction, calling to his attention, begging to be claimed.

‘He’s staring again.’ your thighs clenched against each other, hiding the pool of your heat as you could feel it seep through your panties. ‘He looks at me like this any longer I might just fuck him right here.’

Chan shifted closer, his nose grazing yours, so close he could catch the faint sweetness lingering on your breath. "You have to be quiet…real quiet," he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur.

“W-why?” you stammered, the question coming out in a whisper as his hands found your hips, drawing you against him with a gentle but possessive pull.

He paused, his eyes flicking between yours, a soft smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “Because,” he breathed, his voice sending a delicious warmth down your spine, before he leaned in, closing the miniscule gap and bridging you together in the sweetest of symphonies.

‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god–’

His hand clasped against your cheek, hips digging against yours and pinning you to the wall as his tongue traced in the inside of your mouth, exploring you until he could familiarize himself. He felt bound to you, having taste what’s been distant thought now a full blown movie, a movie that he'd rewatch until the day he dies. 

Your hand caressed the back of his neck, tenderly kneading his skin and pushing yourself closer to his body. The hands that ached to touch him found their peace, gliding on his skin and feeling the outline of his body, through every contour and crevice, so hot it’s sweltering, simply melting underneath him.

‘This is so awesome…don’t ever make this stop…’

He held you by your thigh, brought it to his exposed side, and lifted you from the ground, crushing his weight against you to keep you in place. His eagerness poked against your stomach, taunting you with its size, and parting your mind for thoughts of its sensation plunging inside you, wrecking havoc.

‘Oh god, I’m gonna cum thinking about want I’d do when I fuck him.’

Chan softly chuckled, pulling away and looking at the glisten in your eyes, feeling your skin flushed against him, hearing how your mind screamed for him in ache. “Are you—“

“Yes,” you gingerly nodded, not giving him a second to finish his sentence, “Whatever it is. Yes. Or no. Or whatever.”

‘Good god, get a grip. Desperate much?’

Chan’s hand crept under the fabric of your skirt, sliding down beneath the layer of green pantyhose and underwear, your vicious slickness immediately coating his fingers. “I like you a little desperate,” he confessed in staggered whispers before slotting his lips between yours again. 

Your throbbing cunt thrummed beneath his digits, pulsing around him as he pushed on inside, already coating his knuckles. You seized around him, clenching your stomach, as a clear moan escaped you.

‘What was that?’ Chan sensed Seokmin’s thoughts a mere meters away, franticness in his eyes and the voice of his fellow seeker followed after. “Hello?”

“Hey Seok, Just me!” Chan covered for you, fingers thrusting as they curled up inside you. “I hit my foot on something, so I’m taking a minute breather in my room. No one's here!”

“Mmh, okay, Buddy. Be more careful!”

As soon as the coast was clear, his attention averted back to you. “I said be quiet, didn’t I?”

His hand clamped over your mouth and blocking sounds from leaving as he entered another finger, feeling your muffles hummed satisfyingly against his palm. His smile stretched to the corner of his face. “I told you I’d make you shut up wouldn’t I?”

You rocked into the merciless paces of Chan’s fingers, feeling them massage you in and out, as his palm ground itself against your clit. You head knocked back against the wall behind you, joined by Chan at your hip, letting his fingerss fuck you the way you wish his cock finally would. ‘Oh Lee Chan, Lee Chan, Lee Chan…’

You steadied your arms around his shoulders, eyes fluttering in and out of focus, while your hips snapped back him. It was second nature at this point, responding to him with nothing but open arms.

‘His fingers…my god, his fucking fingers…’

“Faster? Deeper?” Chan offered, sweat dampening tendrils hitting at his eyes. 

You nodded, giving no coherent answer as he took away your ability to breathe. ‘Yes, both, please.’

He’d give it to you, watching as tears swelled up in eyes from ecstasy, ramming his digits until he didn’t care who could hear the delicious squelching, the manhunt game so far back in subconscious, it was practically nonexistent. 

‘Needed him so bad, need him to fuck me so stupid I could feel him in my throat…Lee Chan…’

Even without mind reading, the look in your eyes told him everything. Your gaze was intense, charged with an incredible sense of longing, as if it held secrets that could start wars or shatter worlds. There was something almost dangerous in it, introducing him to a hunger he couldn’t ignore. How had he never noticed this before? It practically screamed at him to cross these invisible lines. And for a heartbeat, the world felt as if it teetered on the edge, making him realize his touch unleashed something neither of you could hold back from.

When you contracted around his fingers, there was no better word than heaven, the thick release in his enveloping grasp, collecting at the cup of his hands.

Chan showed a hint of mercy, letting your feet settle back on the ground. You pried your tired eyes open, letting the faint moonlight help you take in the dreamy sight before you as you slowly recovered from the waves of your climax. Chan, clearly intrigued by the quiet of your mind, ran his tongue along the underside of his palm, jolting you back to life as you watched, breath hitching at the sight.

‘Oh my…’

Chan grinned, his tongue dragging against every curve, every wrinkle, following even the drip running down his forearm, his eyes not breaking a beat from you as he ate your cum off his fingers. He pressed against you, sweaty and flushed, ensuring every bit of you laid flat on his tongue, swallowing every sweet drop of that golden nectar, softly moaning about its flavor. “Better than my favorite candy.”

‘Oh, this man needs to get me pregnant.’

“A couple more to go! Watch out!” Joshua shouted from down the hall.

There was a brief moment of trepidation Chan felt, cursing his friend mentally for getting their tasks done so quickly, stunned that you and him were able to keep hidden for so long. Chan knew he had to make a move, and quickly. 

Shoving up the skirt of your dress, he tore the delicate seams of your green stockings, and a gasp escaped your lips before you had the chance to hush yourself. As soon as you were exposed, Chan sank to his knees, wasting no time. He gripped the ruched hem of your dress, gathering the fabric in his hands in rushed anticipation, pushing aside your panties with his teeth and burying his face inside your warm pussy.

‘This little whore, oh my..’

His tongue pushed flat against you, taking you in at long stripes as his eyes bordered on impatience and deliberate, savoring at how you squirmed against him when his pink muscle curled and licked circles at your entrance. You pushed your weight on him, cried at the thought of him eating you alive when any moment you could get caught.

‘He’s going to kill me, he’s going to kill me. Fuck, those pretty eyes looking back at me. He looks so good eating me out. God, fuck.’

He took your free hand, guiding it to the back of his head, gesturing you to hold on, and like magic, the lower half of his face vanished between your wet folds. 

“Oh gah–” You’re the one to shut yourself off this time with the sharp bite of your lip, focused on the passionate exploration of Chan’s tongue–fucking you with intent, and you fought off the urge to scream. He held you up by your thighs, the darkness in his eyes zoning in on you, drunk in thought of witnessing another orgasm, and amplified your senses with the presence of his fingers. You gripped his hair for dear life–further encouraging him to go deeper–worshiping how the soft strands felt against the pads of your fingers as Chan worshipped every inch inside of you.

“Don’t stop,” you managed to whisper, combing through his hair. “Hmm, that’s so nice…god, you’re so hot eating me out like that…”

Chan was starting to confuse your words for thoughts, or maybe was it your thought for words, whatever it was, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hear them, your delightful praises directed towards him, or see that beautiful face contort with pleasure.

Your hips began to do that familiar jerk, your pelvis hitting his nose as you sensed something explosive near. Your sounds of ache muffled under your hands, and you twisted your hips, gasp breaking out of you helplessly, and Chan got that familiar fresh flavor of you on his tongue as it dripped out of you. 

He helped himself up to pin you back on the wall, the taste of yourself in his mouth, startling addictive, and you reciprocated, getting everything that he’s worked for.

As he pulled away, staring back at you with an unspoken intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you going.”

Chan led you out of the closet, cum still dripping down your legs,  joining the rest of the group to announce your victory: a month-long coupon for free snacks at the gaming café. The triumphant smile on your face as you timidly crossed your legs, only hinting at the far more thrilling victory you’d just shared in Chan’s closet.

The other seekers playfully elbowed him, teasing him for being a terrible seeker. "I’m shocked you found anyone with how long you took!" they laughed. But the mischievous glint in his eyes was hidden under a veil of innocuous feigned confusion. “Guess, I really suck at this,” he shrugged, “Glad you guys had fun.”

And everyone did have fun—so much so that nearly the whole crowd insisted on another round. A round that you and Chan would find just as—if not even more—entertaining than the first.

As soon as Chan locked the door for the PC Cafe, he reclaimed your lips, feeling for your heat underneath your dress and its familiar throb. “Finally, some privacy.”

As fellow hiders this round, you slipped away to a more secluded spot, somewhere private enough to pick up right where you’d left off. Here, with no one else to interrupt, the two of you could finally delve into that spark that you both have only begun starting to understand, the excitement between you simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be explored in the quiet privacy you’d carved out.

‘Lee Chan, the man you are.’

He slipped you out of your dress and let it hit the ground, leading you to behind the counter and pressing you against it. You looped your arms around him, tugging his dinosaur onesie off with your foot and kicking it to the ground along with your dress, caressing his cock protected under a layer of his briefs. “Chan, please I want you.”

‘More than you’d ever know.’

“I know,” He chuckled, tearing off the final obstacle of your underwear. And stuffing it in the abandoned skin of his Halloween costume. “And I’ll show just the kind of treatment you get when you ask nicely.”

He flipped you around, tearing your pantyhose higher on your ass, and bent you over in front of him. He slowly, and deliberately, fished out his cock, letting it slap against the curve of your ass, hearing the pleads inside your head.

‘God, he so knows what he’s doing. What a tease.’

His lips connected to the back of your neck, with a free hand squeezed around the flesh of your breast. “Say it.”

“Chan…” you whined. ‘Don’t make me beg.’

“I want to hear how much you want me inside of you. I need some transparency from you.”

“Of course, I want it, Chan.” You back yourself against him, leading the head of his cock towards your puffy slit. “Please.”

“Use your words, dirty girl,” He harshly whispered, invoking a feeling not only rare but foreign inside of you as you clenched around nothing.

“I-I want you inside me, Chan.”

“Doing what?”

You whined, “Fucking me.” ‘Using me.’

He scoffed, brimming with pride, readjusting your position as he saw fit, and slowly pushed himself inside you. When you adjust to his size, you had only begun to realize the impact it’s have on you, how it’s be hard to forget such a sensation, until he’s dragging his cock in and out of you. You clawed on wooden counter, bracing yourself, and echoing a low, long groan as he covered every inch of him in your slick walls. 

The first thrust was methodical, calculated, determined to show you the whole range of what he’d give you and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated, but as he found his pace, you began to find your balance. “Oh, fuck…”

You were glued to him, his hips pounding himself against you as his hands collected your breasts in his hands, lips kissing up your neck and behind your ear. “Gonna make you fucking wish your only regret was not fucking me sooner.”

How he easily found your spot was mystery – one that you didn’t think too long and hard on – until he just kept doing it, pulling you back against him as he released his inhibitions. Your sweat pilled against each other, unsure where yours started and where his ends, your bodies intertwined into one sickening display of what almost a year of unspoken lust looked like.

‘Oh, I could get used to this. If he fucked me like this everyday, I wouldn’t complain for a single second.’

And Chan was almost counting on that.

He turned you around again, missing your face and admiring how your disheveled hair only framed its intoxicating aura as he lifted you against the counter and pushed his cock inside you as he towered over you.

The single chain around his neck brushed against your face repeatedly, and calling to your attention loud enough for only Chan to hear.

‘Omg his chain…this is like one of those Twitter memes where fanatics dream of their faves’ chain hanging above their face during sex…and it’s actually happening to me with Chan.’

Suddenly, he had an idea. “Bite on it.”

You blinked at him, registering his words as he suddenly stopped his thrusts. “…What?”

“Bite on my chain while I fuck the living shit out of you.” 

You took your time processing the thought, before slowly leaning in, the chain barely meeting your lips before you took it between your teeth and pulled him down with you.

Chan’s once kind smile warped into something more sinister, more primal, and he granted you what he had promised.

His cock slammed against you, reverberating your walls, and you clung on the counter under you, while your vision flickered to the back of your skull. Gritting against the chain on your enamel, your head could not form words clear in any sense, just the echo of yours skin clashing and Chan reveled in that. “Good fucking girl.”

He hand struck your side, squishing you against the counter, feeding you his raw power course through you until he’s fill you up, over and over again. You feed his ego in a way he never expected from someone and wasn’t sure he’d be willing to let it go with whatever happened next, so he was gonna savor the moment he had.

As his arousal coursed through him, squeezed every ounce of energy out of you, ensuring he’d hear his name on your brain and out your lips. He held your tired body, stroking your sides, panting against your skin, and felt the final release ebb out of him like a stream, coating you in perfect white before settling down a stool nearby, sitting you on his lap as you rested against the security of his strong, broad frame.

Wherever this left the two of you, Chan just knew he needed to have you. And considering the emptiness in his head, he needed you for more than he realized.

[devilmademewriteit]

Let Me Love You Like A Woman (Let Me Hold You Like A Baby)

part 3 of Dark But Just A Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you’re in his place. you’re in his bed. will joel ever be anything more than your dad’s friend who occasionally fucks his frustrations into you, or will you always be strangers?

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [m receiving] fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mentions of reader having long hair; pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel); dubcon (power imbalance); age gap; dbf!joel; angst; mentions of murder and torture.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites loml forever

word count: 4.1k

no use of y/n in this fic

Click here to read part 1, Dark but Just a Game. 

Click here to read part 2, Pretty When You Cry. 

(neither are totally necessary if u just wanna read some filth, fluff, n angst, all u rly need to know is that they’ve fucked twice before & he’s dad’s best friend lol).

a/n: thank u for all the support on this series. i’m literally so obsessed with all of you it’s not even funny. enjoy this while we collectively grieve the end of the season, & i’ll be here writing fic in the meantime. Don’t forget to join the taglist for any and all upcoming work! -em <333333

—

It had taken all of ten seconds for you to lose your shirt, your jeans, and your most beloved pair of (now ruined) panties after stepping foot in Joel Miller’s apartment.

“‘Fuckin’ soaked already—been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”

And those tantalizing fingers. They were third on the list of things you thought about when you touched yourself, right after his cock and the insatiable look that haunted his eyes when he was inside you. Joel’s talents were wasted as a smuggler—he’d have made a fantastic pianist or maybe a guitarist with the way that index and that damned thumb conspired to make you sing for him.

“Anyone else touch you here since me?“ “No, Joel—just you—only you.” “Attagirl.”

He’d gotten you fully naked (something he’d never bothered to do before) and writhing in his grip in a matter of seconds, laying rough kisses down your spine with patience and attention. Every single one was a spoken promise: I’m coming back for you.

“Look at you, baby, takin’ a real man all by yourself.”

Hands on your hips, knees pressed to the worn-in mattress—every other word in the English language omitted itself from your vocabulary as Joel drew his name from your lips over and over and over again, the thick length of his cock easing you to oblivion with every gratifying stroke.

“Gonna make this pussy come til’ you’re begging me to stop, sweetheart.”

Feeling his cum drip down your thigh, barely having a second to breathe before being manhandled onto your back, hands searching your body, mapping you out like a foreign land before taking him in again. “It aches, Joel.” Crying softly into his neck, tears of pain and ecstasy leaking down your cheeks. “M’jus’ breakin’ you in, angel.” The smell of his hair anchoring your senses to right here, right now as release washes over you again and again and oh, Joel’s hands on the outsides of your thighs to steady your shaking legs.

“Eyes up baby, wanna see ‘em while I’m comin’ on that pretty face.”

Joel tasted like salt and sin and his stickiness on your cheeks felt warm like a late august sun. Watching you blink your lust-filled and trust-filled eyes, grabbing a fistful of your tangled hair, Joel memorized the way your pouting mouth looked painted with his seed. Thick, dark eyebrows creasing together as a groaned ‘fuckin’ hell’ fell from his open lips—with you, he became an artist, and with him, you were a blank canvas.

Now, the moonlit room was quiet; with every primal need purged from both your systems, your exhausted bodies lay entangled, empty and content. Joel’s heartbeat had settled a few minutes after yours—you’d made note of it with your ear pressed to his chest. But every twitch or fidget from the hand resting on the curve of your waist had your own rhythm picking up double-time, sending hot blood coursing through every now-aching limb.

“You should go,” he grumbles after a while, eyes still closed, body still at rest. Fucking you had basically rendered the man comatose. “Your dad’ll raise hell if he sees an empty bed.”

You scoff. “It’s not like he’s ever cared before—remember when Emma and I snuck out to the old mall and I radio’ed him to get us out?” Joel chuckles, remembering the fond memory. After all, it had been him and not your old man who’d shown up to kick down those crumbling cinema doors, partly rescuing you but mostly reaming you out for being such a careless, stupid teenager.

“And either way, Miller, I’m an adult.”

This time, it’s Joel’s turn to scoff. “Jus’ ‘cause you’re legal, dun’ make you an ‘adult.’ You still whine like a kid.”

You giggle softly as he mocks your indignant tone, feeling the lungs beneath you rumble subtly, too.

Joel was always softest and at his most vulnerable after sex. Well, aren’t all men the same? You figured it was just the nature of the act that left its participants a little more tender and a little less inhibited after its completion. It was strange to remember that Joel was a man like any other.

And the man that you’d allowed to ruin you so skillfully, to burn himself on the archives of your mind, somehow remained a complete mystery to you. He was a tangled web of stifled emotions, unspoken sentences, and chilling stories you’d heard from your inebriated father.

If there was any time to untangle him, it was now.

Joel’s t-shirt is damp with his sweat, and yours, too. What a shame that he hadn’t removed it earlier. He was so very impatient when it came to fucking you, and despite having enough patience this time to get you naked, he didn’t bother to give himself that same treatment. At this point, you felt too self-conscious to ask, pretty well certain that he’d turn down your request, anyways. Peeling your profile from the navy blue fabric, you gaze up at him inquisitively, a steadying hand pressed tentatively against his broad chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your voice sounds small, like that of a scared child. It makes you cringe.

“Hmph,” he grunts, eyes firmly closed.

Better than nothing. A start.

“Well,” you begin, painfully slowly, tracing timid circles under his collarbone, “Sometimes, I think—”

“S’great, sweetheart,” he interjects in mock earnestness. “Good for you.”

“Knock it off, Miller,” you slap his shoulder playfully. A sly, amused expression teases his features.

After a long, heavy pause, with only the trickling and creaking of the old building occupying it, you soldier on.

“Sometimes, I think that when you’re… well, fucking me… you, well, you kind of use me to—vent.” There. You’d said it. “Like, your frustrations.”

A long exhalation escapes Joel’s lips as he mulls over your words, choosing eventually to respond with cautious and dismissive humor.

“This your way of askin’ me if you’re more’n my human Xanax?”

“No, asshole.”

He hums quietly. The distant sound of a gunshot travels through the open window, dragging you both back to the present moment.

A forced sigh. “I wanted to ask you what you’re trying to get off your mind.”

Joel tenses almost imperceptibly underneath you, an air of seriousness collecting around him.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grumbles, amusement fading from his tone. “M’not really interested in talkin’ about our feelings together.”

The harshness of his words only entices you to push him again, to understand the man who so clearly understood you. There was something there–likely many things there–that he had fucked into you. Things that you now need to know. Things calling to you like an abandoned childhood home.  

You want to pull him into yourself, crawl under his very skin and exist there for a minute or two. In his bed, in his place, and you’re still worlds apart.

“I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings, Miller. I just want to know that I’m not letting, like, a total, raging maniac climb between my knees.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His eyes flit open, and as soon as they do, you recognize the vacant, apathetic expression that had characterized him for you all these years. He grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows, and you sit up, yanking at the tangled sheets to cover yourself.

“Ever been outside the QZ, sweetheart?” He asks, his poorly restrained temper slicing through his words.

Looking down at your hands, you trace the cream-colored creases stretching along the blanket, shaking your head no, side to side.

“S’right. Not a single man on this planet that’s not a total, raging maniac. Enough fear, thirst, or hunger…” something truly terrifying creeps onto his expression, a vision of darkness, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Not with soldiers, not with your father, not even with Joel.

“Everyone’s a killer.”

You swallow slowly, trailing your eyes up to meet his charged gaze. The room feels cold.

“Are you?”

His shadowed eyes narrow with irritation. “Am I what, sweetheart?”

“A killer.”

Then it’s regret and violence corrupting his features, and before you know it, Joel Miller is somewhere else. It takes a long time for him to come back to you (if you can even pretend to claim that Joel had ever been with you in the first place).

He hesitates, huffing quickly with frustration and looking away for a brief moment before focussing back on you—conceding to your question with a quick nod.

An acidic taste collects on your tongue, but his answer isn’t surprising. You’d always known in some way that Joel had taken lives. Still, it felt strange to hear him acknowledging it, to see the pain that admitting to it caused him. His actions actually bothered him. That meant he had a soul in some jagged, twisted form and that certain things could affect it. Thinking about that made your temples hurt.

“For what reason?”

You can’t help it—you’d come this far, and it felt like failure to quit prying. It doesn’t matter that Joel’s a grenade with no safety lever. You know it’s only a matter of time before he explodes, but you’d grown up diffusing your father daily. Bombs were your specialty.

“Does it matter?”

Upstairs, the floorboards creak softly. It almost makes you jump.

“I think so.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with irritation. Otherwise, he stays surprisingly level. Some hopeful part of you tries to whisper that some softer part of him actually wants you to get under his skin.

“Alright.” You stare at him, stunned at his forfeiture, as he breathes a dark, humorless laugh. “But you’re gonna hate me for my answer.”

There’s a loaded pause as you gape expectantly at him. His head falls back, eyes fixed to the chipping, washed-out ceiling.

“In the early days of the outbreak, before FEDRA had the QZs figured out… things weren’t easy. You gotta understand that.” His gravelly voice cuts through the room’s silence, vibrating through your stilled body. “I’ve killed, tortured, n’hurt more people’n I can count. Sometimes to save myself, sometimes someone else, ‘n other times… other times jus’ because. And,” he groans, laying his back against the pillows as his harrowing monologue comes to a close, “It wasn’t always life or death, either.”

You pull the sheets in close to your chest, shuddering partly due to his words, partly due to his delivery. As if he was warning you. As if he wanted you to hear the truth and…

And punish him for it.

With his eyes shutting again, he can’t see you studying him. He’s probably assumed that a look of abject horror has poisoned your complexion. As you angle yourself to view his resting body—the pained expression causing his eyebrows to furrow, lips pressed tightly together—an overwhelming rush of adoration expands in your lungs, swelling inexplicably and uncontrollably in your chest. Your thoughts blare at full blast inside your racing mind.

Joel was capable; he had blood lust and an inner violence that meant he felt, deeply, and he’d die—or even better, kill—for those he loved. He was…

Joel was perfect.

Maybe it was a fucked up thing to feel—maybe it meant that you needed to be studied by a team of psychiatrists. Either way, the thought of his agonized soul, carrying on out of sheer spite and a reluctant desire to protect his own had you melting at his side. Joel wasn’t static, unfeeling, or a ghost, he was real, and he was alive. Growing up in a near-dead world haunted by once vibrant cities had made that trait alone extremely precious.

He remains still while you move his arm, wiggling next to him to sit back on your calves and looming over his unyielding form. Maybe he thinks you’ve pulled a gun on him and is just giving you a chance to pull the trigger.

Dropping the pale sheet from your breasts, you caress Joel’s harsh jaw in one hand, sneaking the other down, down his stomach and under the waistband of his briefs.

His eyes surge open, finding yours and filling with confusion. You burn with affection, a kind of fierceness that wasn’t there before.

Brow creasing, eyelids fluttering as he hardens in your grasp. You wordlessly entice him once again, bowing down and over to press tender kisses to his neck.

“I could never hate you, Joel Miller.”

He whimpers softly as you stroke him—tantalizingly slow in big, long pulls—it makes your heart flutter to hear him whine for you. 

A refreshing reversal of roles.

You ease your way down, trailing your lips down his scarred side and over to his front, exploring the strip of grey hair marking the center of his abdomen.

Joel watches you, longing on his lips, but the uncertainty still lingers. You need him to listen.

“I’d kill and torture if it meant survival—” you arrive at his hard length, pumping it in your hand right next to your softened features.

“And I would kill and torture for you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you part your lips around the tip of his cock, drinking in his fascination as you take him in slowly, wholly. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses the back of your throat. 

Once again, you’re filled with Joel. 

A soft hiss, and then his face becomes a symphony of pleasure, disbelief, and, finally, hunger. His large hand caresses the back of your head, capable fingers tangling softly in your hair as you glide up and down his length, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and your own acidity on his satin-smooth skin.

He only parts from your stare when you draw lazy, adoring circles around his tip, throwing his head back and grinding out a ‘Jesus Christ.’

It’s almost too much for him when you start using your hands, making it your life’s purpose to eagerly please every inch, every square millimeter of him. You drag your tongue from the base of his length all the way up to the top, silver-lined eyes boring intensely into his own.

“Shoulda let you do this sooner,” he breathes, gently pushing your head down until your nose brushes against those dark, curly hairs. “Look so fuckin’ pretty with a mouth full of cock.”

There he is.

You pull off him, strings of saliva trailing down from your lips to the glistening tip of his length. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

In a haze, perfectly slowly, Joel throws his head back with a low growl. You stroke him affectionately, spit and his own salt collecting between your fingers as you wait patiently for his reply.

Then he pushes himself up to a sitting position, wrapping his rough hands around your upper arms and easing you up off his length. “Not this time, baby.” You’re straddling him, taking in the unfamiliar care spoiling his tone and softening his hard features when he leans forward, locking you in place like a missing puzzle piece he’d spent his whole damn life searching for. His cock rests between your bodies, pressing exquisitely against your abdomen.

“Only got one more in me, sweetheart. M’not plannin’ on wastin’ it.”

He lifts his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks between them like some kind of priceless, fascinating object. It all feels so paradoxical: innocent despite the filthiness of his words, gentle despite the forest fires blazing in his gaze. Searching your eyes, he runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. 

And he kisses you.

It’s not bruising at first—it’s a soft, curious question, an experiment. The grey-flecked hair of his mustache brushes the crescent of your Cupid’s bow, and the feeling almost brings you to tears. So you lean into it, deepening the kiss with hard pressure, searching for the answer on his tongue. That’s when his hands tangle in your hair, and his lips steal the oxygen right out from your lungs as he reciprocates fiercely.

It’s like watching a prisoner take his first steps out into the sun after being held in isolation for a decade. You wonder if it had been that long for Joel.

Without breaking away, you trail a hand down the fabric of his t-shirt. Then, you’re grabbing it from the bottom and hitching it up his abdomen. He pulls away just a half-inch to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, his own marked with apprehension.

“I want all of you,” you plead breathlessly, sliding off his starved lips.

Joel ducks his head, staring at the meeting place between your fingers and his cotton.

“If…” he tries, words clumsy, voice gruff. A bit of bashful humour underscores his tone, too. “F’I let that happen, you’ll see that I’m really jus’ an old man, angel.” You begin to protest, having come prepared with another I-like-them-old-and-decrepit speech, but he cuts you off, anticipating your reaction. “Jus’ been a long time since I looked fit enough for somethin’ like you.”

It’s almost too ridiculous. Joel Miller, worried about how you’ll receive his appearance after you’d deep-throated him for admitting to Geneva-convention levels of violent crime.

This time, it's your turn to cup his face, cradling him reverently between your hands with passionate devotion.

“You and me might be different on the outside,” you begin, surprising yourself with the conviction dripping from your own tone. “But deep down? I’m just as rotten as you.”

His mouth breaks into a genuine smile, and he chuckles, creases lining the corners of his eyes as if carved there by God’s own hand. Nodding with concession, he shrugs his shirt off; you reach out to help him to pull it off entirely.

Scars, definition, and tan skin stretch with every shaky breath he takes. Fuck. The tips of your fingers explore him, honoured by the feel of likely being the first in ages to claim this spot, and that one, and this one here, too–Joel’s turned you into a conquistador, a crusader.

“You’re so, so handsome, Joel.”

It’s not enough to see him, wholly exposed, flesh-blood-skin-scars-and-muscle. Nothing’s ever made you feel so safe and so warm; Joel is a worn-out, hand-me-down jacket that you can’t seem to part with; he’s candles during a thunderstorm, a thick blanket begging you to wrap yourself in it. You want him on you, against you, inside you.

So you take the man, and you kiss him—ardently.

His breathing hitches when you grasp his length, and it stops completely when you slide it between your slick folds, pulling every inch of him inside yourself appreciatively. You swallow his groan as he inhales your gasp.

Your hips move together in tandem. Rocking against his thighs as his hands anchor into your hair, or on your breasts, your ass, your waist—Joel holds you as close to himself as physically possible, threatening to crush you between his arms, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a starving kind of need.

Old habits die hard. Joel gets swept up in the way you start struggling to kiss him back, the involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your helpless fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. Sliding his hands under your ass, he holds your hips steady. Then, he’s spreading you open to receive him more readily, dictating the rhythm, the angle, and the brutality of how he fucks you.

Ruining you to completion was quickly becoming an addiction.

He smiles against your mouth when you give him a muffled “mmm,” releasing your lips to watch, a captivated audience, as your eyebrows knit together, relishing the sound of your lungs filling with short, pleading gasps.

“Gonna be bruised inside n’ out, baby.” Joel’s promise barely registers over the clap of his skin against yours and your own wanton moans. A thoroughly cock-drunken expression and the worship of his name on your tongue win you some hard-earned praise.

“Taken me so many times tonight—been such a good lil’ toy.”

Your lips slide down the stubble and the rough skin of his cheek, limp body giving out with every punishing snap of his hips. Still, you attempt speech, stammering out a “Joel, I-I want—” that’s mostly unintelligible.

“I know, baby,” he coos, words muffled by your hair, hot breath fanning out over the valley of your neck. “S’hard to use your words when you’re jus’ so full, huh?”

After finding the strength to straighten up and face him, your mouth moves from its permanent ‘ah’ shape to string together a pleading, desperate sentence. Joel doesn’t make it easy for you, picking up the intensity of his strokes, dragging you to the edge of bliss.

“I wanna—I want you to show me how to ride you—to take you—please—let me make you come.”

He laughs softly into your shoulder: the sight and the sound of a woman begging to do the work was a kind of rarity (albeit an appreciated one, at his age) in his experience. Acquiescing, he lowers you back onto his broad thighs, slowing his rhythm, and giving you a chance to catch your shallow, uneven breath.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Like a true cocky bastard, Joel leans back against the mess of strewn pillows, casually tucking his hands behind his head and leaving you to steady yourself on top of him, velvet walls still fluttering and squeezing adoringly around him.

You hold yourself up with your palms pressed flat against his chest. Rock slowly and carefully against his hips, observe the sight of your fingernails pressing into his unyielding chest. A whimper tumbles from your sore, parted lips as Joel’s tip nudges your inner-most sensitive spot.

“Eyes on me.”

Hardened hands reach out to circle your waist. “You look at me when you’re riding,” he instructs.

“Show me how grateful you are for this cock.”

His voice is strict and firm but gentle all the same. Joel relaxes underneath you. It feels good—so good—to watch your body undoing his own; it feels even better when he flexes involuntarily inside you, stretching open your sore, aching, and somehow still needy cunt. Locked into his lustful, dominant gaze, you speed up, throwing your hips back to grind enthusiastically against him. He watches first your eyes and then your breasts, palming them, teasing your hardened nipples roughly.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

Low and gravelly and filthy, his question looms over your body, only adding to the soft thud drumming inside the eager bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

He makes you realize that you really, really do.

You nod eagerly at him; Joel gives you a knowing expression of sympathy.

He never could help his condescension at watching you crumble so easily from so little.

“Show me, angel.”

So you do–Joel holds you steady as your hand falls to your clit, drawing clumsy circles over that one aching spot. Your fingers are frustratingly unskilled compared to his, but at this level of arousal, you’ll do anything to ease that mounting pressure. You focus hard, multitasking through your euphoria.

Him watching as you pleasure yourself excites you. Squeezing him harder, riding him with newfound passion—Joel groans as his long-awaited orgasm builds between his thighs, watching you bounce up and down his tense, throbbing length. His darkening eyes beckon you to keep going, to tip him over the edge.

You want to fall into them when he comes inside you.  

He knocks your hand away, replacing your index and middle fingers with a broad, calloused, impatient thumb against your grateful bud. “Ohmygod–Joel–” and the rush worsens, his fingers acting as catalysts for the all-too-familiar sensations spreading across your core.

“With me, baby,” his voice is gruff, restrained by need, want, lust. “Lemme feel you comin’ when I fill you up–s’it, good fuckin’ girl–”

Tears collect on your lashes, and a sob heaves from your throat. You reach your climax for him, the ache from your clit spreading to overtake every inch of your body. Joel comes too. He tucks your head into the soft, damp skin of his neck and fists the hair at the back of your head. Your legs ache with absence the moment he pulls his fingers away from your core. Still, his only instinct as his seed spills between your walls is to pull you into himself as tightly as possible, to intertwine himself wholly and eternally with your young, devoted soul.

He doesn’t let you move after it’s over. One arm circles your waist, the other snakes up your back; it feels like standing at the base of the pearly gates of heaven. When his laborious exhales brush the top of your spine, it’s those damn angels sighing.

And it feels like he’s here. It feels like you’ve landed somewhere together, no longer strangers but something else. Something new. Something stronger. Sweeter. And worlds more dangerous.

Joel Miller running his thumb up and down the plunge of your neck. Joel Miller cursing himself for allowing you to take a hammer and chisel to the walls he’d spent painstaking years putting up, eternities before you were even born.

Joel Miller realizing that he can’t find it in himself to let you leave.

“For the record, sweetheart—I’d torture n’ kill for you, too.”

You have no trouble believing him, smiling softly against his shoulder.

—

TAGLIST: @mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo12346 @bookofbee @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @stardust-chords-enthusiast @fruitcupsworld @sallymilkweed @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @daydreamerblues @spacelatinos4life @totallynotastanacc @honeycovered-bandaids @daddy-din @cedricbitch @tiredbuthappy @sweetpea99 @ghostfanwriter @daixylie @witchy-jadda @ninebluehearts @jbcalway @jasminedragoon @inkedells @ayehomo @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett

—

Tumblr on mobile loves to destroy my fics by screwing with the last few hundred words SO here are the lyrics to Let Me Love You Like a Woman by Lana Del Rey lmao <3

I come from a small town, how about you? I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want you to come Eighty miles North or South will do I don't care where as long as you're with me And I'm with you and you let me

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in poems and songs Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me hold you like a baby

I come from a small town far away I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want (need) you to come I guess I could manage if you stay It's just if you do I can't see myself having any fun, so

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity

We could get lost in the purple rain Talk about the good old days We could get high on some pink champagne Baby, let me count the waves

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman

—

[stevie-petey]

dibs

“Jinx!” Again, they say this at the same time. They both groan, and without any other words, they jump into an intense game of rock, paper, scissors.  “One, two, three!” Steve holds out a rock, Robin does as well, and the two teens almost strangle one another.  They try again, this time they both land on paper, and Robin throws her head back in frustration. “I’m not good at math, but this cannot be statistically possible.”

Summary: do the laws of dibs still apply if steve and robin see you at the same time ???

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 1.4k

Before you swing in: this is for my beloved val (@southelroy), and i was so excited to try my hand at writing robin and steve together <3 this is a very silly fic, not at all meant to be realistic or serious, and it isnt proofread so pls enjoy n beware !

-

According to the ancient rules of “dibs”, the first person who sees the desired one has the rightful claim of dibs. Anyone else present during this time must obey this sacred rule, respecting the fact that the other has laid claim first. It’s an old, ancient tradition, held up for centuries through faithful friendships. 

It’s a solid system, really.

Except Steve and Robin see you walk into Family Video on the same day, at the same time, together. 

You walk in, hair slightly wet from the rain and your eyes bright, and smile at the two of them shyly. Setting down your umbrella, you unbutton your raincoat and look around the store. “Sorry, is it okay if I hide out in here for a bit? My umbrella broke and I really don’t feel like catching a cold.”

Steve and Robin stare at you, wide eyed and in shock. They’ve never seen you before, they surely would’ve remembered your face if they had, and their brains short circuit simultaneously. 

When they don’t say anything, you cautiously walk up to the counter and laugh nervously. “Uh, hello? I can leave, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“No!” Steve shouts, panicked that the word “leave” has left your very pretty and pink mouth. When you flinch at his raised voice, he quickly clears his throat and lowers his voice. “I–uh, I mean… No, no. You can stay–please! I mean, if you don’t mind, ‘cause, ya know, it’s raining–”

“What my coworker here is trying to say is that you can definitely stay.” Robin interrupts, admiring the way the raindrops in your hair seem to form a halo. “In fact, why don’t you have a look around? We have plenty of movies.”

You smile at Robin, which she practically melts seeing. “Thanks, you guys are lifesavers. I’m here visiting my cousin, and he said I should stop by anyways.”

“What, do we know him?” Steve asks, finally finding his voice again. 

“His name is Dustin Henderson, if that helps. He’s a freshman at Hawkins, said he stops here sometimes–”

“Dustin Henderson is your cousin?” Steve and Robin say at the same time, completely taken aback. 

You laugh. “Ya know, I’ve gotten that a lot since being in Hawkins. I take it he’s well known?”

“Oh, he’s definitely well known.” Robin snorts, thinking about how many people would scream at the idea of more Hendersons running around the world. 

But if they’re anything like you, then Robin thinks she’d love to be invited to a Henderson family reunion. Immediately. 

“Well,” you smile again at the two teens, amused by their weird dynamic. You can see why Dustin likes them so much. “Since I’m stuck here for a while and I promised Dustin I’d get a movie, I’m gonna take a look around as suggested.”

You pause, now realizing you haven’t asked for their names, and you gasp. “I’m so sorry! What are your names? I feel horrible for not even asking.”

“You could never do any wrong,” Steve sighs dreamily, leaning against the counter in what he hopes is a cool looking pose. “I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

He sticks his hand out for you to shake, which you accept with a slight giggle. He’s odd, but incredibly endearing even if he’s currently standing against the counter like a middle-aged man. “I’m Y/N Henderson.” 

Robin, sensing what Steve is trying to do, hip checks the boy so that he falls onto the ground. “And I’m Robin Buckley, the better half of this duo.”

Like hell she’s going to allow him to flirt with you. 

Her declaration makes you laugh, even as poor Steve groans on the floor in pain. You wink at her, amused by her charm, and start to walk towards the movie aisles. “Oh, I believe that.”

Steve scrambles back up, and the second you’re out of earshot, he and Robin immediately shout at the same time, “Dibs!”

“Jinx!” Again, they say this at the same time. They both groan, and without any other words, they jump into an intense game of rock, paper, scissors. 

“One, two, three!” Steve holds out a rock, Robin does as well, and the two teens almost strangle one another. 

They try again, this time they both land on paper, and Robin throws her head back in frustration. “I’m not good at math, but this cannot be statistically possible.”

“Okay, let’s think about this.” Steve holds a finger up to indicate that he’s speaking, which Robin scoffs at. “I saw her first, so–”

“Uh, news flash, dingus: I saw her first.”

“Were you dropped as a child? I clearly saw her first–”

“Actually,” your voice causes both Robin and Steve to turn in horror, realizing too late that you’ve been standing behind them, listening in. “You both saw me at the same time, so I’m not sure how the rule of dibs applies here.”

“We…” Steve gapes at you, speechless. 

Robin is no better, her face burns horribly. “We think… You’re pretty?”

“Well, I gathered that much.” You laugh again, and the sound is enough for both Steve and Robin to forget all their worries and admire how delicate it is. Then, holding up two dvd’s, you place them on the counter. “I’ll take these, please.”

Robin looks down at your movie selection, seeing The Breakfast Club and The Outsiders, and her heart drops. “Just… Just these?”

“Mhm,” you nod, unsure why her demeanor has suddenly changed. “Is there something wrong with my movie selection?”

Steve looks at Robin and he knows immediately what’s wrong. She absolutely hates your taste in movies, which he’s ecstatic over. He lets out a whoop and first bumps the air. “Yes! She’s mine!”

“Shut up, you moron!” Robin screeches, embarrassed and infuriated. She cannot believe that this is happening to her right now, in front of a very pretty girl, no less. Closing her eyes, Robin takes a deep breath and turns to you. “Please excuse my friend, he’s allergic to pretty girls.”

“Hey, that’s not true–”

You cross your arms at Robin, an amused smile on your face. “What’s so wrong with my taste in movies?”

“Nothing!” When you raise your eyebrow at her, Robin accepts her fate and gives in. She knows she’s done for now. “It’s just… It’s incredibly bland.”

“I happen to think your taste is impeccable, Y/N.” Steve butts in, batting his eyelashes at you for added effect.

Robin watches, with pure disgust, as it works. Steve’s charm gets you to laugh once more, and you even lean closer to his side of the counter. You place a hand on his arm. “I’m honored to have you on my side, then.”

Stupid Harrington and his stupid male species. 

While you and Steve exchange gross lovey-dovey glances, Robin rings up your movie rentals with disdain. 

“That will be $5.25, please.” She mumbles, crestfallen. 

You tear your eyes away from Steve’s and notice the jealousy and hurt on Robin’s face. You frown, feeling bad for being the cause of this. She seems like a sweet girl, and Dustin spoke highly of her, so you know she’s someone special. Taking some cash out of your purse, you hand it to Robin and catch her eye. 

“Hey, listen to me real quick.” Robin looks up, despite not wanting to, but your eyes are too pretty not to look into. When you have her attention, you turn to Steve. “Can you give us a second?”

He looks bewildered. “What? Why?”

“If you leave now, I’ll give you my number.”

“Yes ma’am!” Steve hops over the counter and goes to sort some movies, leaving you alone with Robin. 

Once he’s gone, you lean in close to her. “I understand what you’re going through.”

Her eyes widen, terrified she’s been caught. “W–what? No, I think you’ve gotten this all wrong–”

“It’s okay,” you grab her hand, gently take it between yours. “We’re more alike than you may think, and while I’m flattered, you’re too young.”

Robin knows she should be devastated by this, but all she hears is, “So… Let’s say ten years from now, if you happen to visit Dustin again…”

You laugh, she’s got such a spark to her. “You’ll have to figure out the whole ‘dibs’ thing by then with Steve.”

“I saw you first!” Steve shouts from somewhere in the aisles, before a giant crash follows. A few seconds pass, and then, much quieter this time, he shouts, “I’m fine!”

-

⌑ writing masterlist

[kami-kun1003]

Silver’s narcolepsy is so… interesting to me

everyone always talks about it like it’s a silly joke. like “ha ha sleepy boy!!!” which is. fine. but from what we see in the game, it’s undoubtedly a serious physical disability. it literally causes him to fall asleep randomly throughout the day and there’s no way he can fight it. that’s genuinely scary and a cause for concern. what if he fell asleep next to a lake and drowned or something??

i can’t help but think about how much it must affect him mentally. imagine you’re the only human in a fae family, and your whole life you believed that you would be the first to die, and you need to make the most out of the short time you have to repay your loved ones for raising you.

and the universe decides to give you a sleep disorder that completely hindrances your ability to do so. you doze off CONSTANTLY, wasting hours upon hours of precious time that you could’ve used for something more useful.

you can’t control it. once you feel that drowsiness, it’s over. nothing helps; you just can’t stay awake regardless of what you try. no one knows what’s wrong with you so you just assume that it’s your own fault for being so lazy. your father’s done everything he can, bless his kind heart, but even he can’t find a solution.

nobody understands what you’re going through, they all say it’s normal to feel bored or tired from schoolwork every now and then. which isn’t how you feel at all, but you just don’t have the words to describe it.

it gets to the point where you’re failing your classes because your body simply refuses to function the way it’s supposed to. your teachers blame you and they’re right, it’s your fault it’s all your fault isn’t it?

your peers make fun of or look down on you for being unusual. for always falling asleep. for not expressing emotion (doesn’t anyone else find it hard?). you feel ashamed. you try to fix it but you can’t. nothing can ever be fixed.

it’s frustrating to be unable to control your own body. you’ve grown used to it, and so has everybody else, although that doesn’t make it any less of a problem. but at this point it feels like there’s no other choice but to just live with it.

and in the end, you feel guilty. your father has given you everything, and yet you can’t give back. does that not make you a failure? a disappointment of a son? here you are, living, breathing, thinking, and you can’t even do anything to thank the person who gave you the luxury of existence.

wouldn’t you hate sleep? wouldn’t you utterly despise that feeling of drowsiness that overtakes your mind when you so much as stay still for a single minute? would you not cherish the moments in which lethargy did not plague you?

oh, how you wish there was a cure.

(tagging: @fruixtii )

[parvulous-writings]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, and Halsin react to being stuck in close proximity with gn crush? - Fluff anon

Notes:  My requests are currently open, though limited! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Astarion

Initially, Astarion is rather grumpy about the whole situation; being stuck in close proximity with anyone is going to initially make him a little frustrated. He likes having the freedom to move all his limbs as he pleases, thank you very much.

However, it doesn't take him very long to start flirting, or making risqué comments to you. He's of the opinion that, despite you both being stuck together, he might as well have a bit of fun with it whilst it lasts, right? What else is there to do, if not seize the moment to make a few cheeky jokes?

"You know, darling... Things normally happen between two people who are so close..." His voice isn't much above a whisper, but you can hear it loud and clear. "I do believe there may be a game around a situation such as this..." He taps his chin in mock thought. "What say we give it a try~?"

He very much enjoys giving you little, teasing touches. Nothing too risque, they're usually feather-light, the only reason you know he's doing them, is because you can practically see the smirk in those red eyes of his.

Once the pair of you are free, the whole ordeal becomes a little inside joke between the two of you for him, something that he frequently will bring up during your travels together, usually at your expense.

Gale

Gale is incredibly awkward about the entire situation - he tries not to be, he tries to play it off coolly, but alas, it does not work. He's jostling near constantly, his legs always moving in a bid to try and give you more space, and always failing. He just ends up kicking you, which he profusely apologises for every time.

"Oh- sorry, sorry... I didn't mean to- Ouf- Sorry, again-" He falls entirely still for a moment, trying to think of a way out of this little situation. He, obviously, cannot wriggle out of it, lest he bruise your ribs more, nor can he actually see a way out - it was far too dark to make out many details. He would have used his magic, but it felt like any movement only ended up in hitting you, and making the situation ever more tense - and he's not looking to upset you, not in the slightest, he wants the same thing you do! To get out!

After the two of you are finally let out - thanks to a very helpful Karlach - Gale tries to brush over the whole incident. He tries not to touch upon it too much, if at all if he can help it. If you mention it at all, he'll play along in the conversation for a couple of minutes, though his cheeks are bright red, before he excuses himself for anything he can think of - no matter how trivial, or outlandish the thing may be. He doesn't overly like remembering the time he kept accidentally kicking you.

Halsin

Halsin is no small man - entirely the opposite, in fact. Thankfully, though, he is very aware of this. He tries not to move too much outside what is strictly necessary to keep his joints from screaming at him, and he makes sure to move slowly, and with warning. He's constantly mindful that it's not going be easy, being stuck in a confined space with a man who is quite literally as large as a bear.

He's very sweet about the whole thing - constantly asking how you are, and if there's anything you'd like to talk about to keep your mind off of the current situation. He'll only make jokes if you start making them first - he doesn't want to make you feel like he's making fun of you for somehow getting stuck in here with him.

He doesn't try to bash his way out - knowing full well that it may likely hurt you. He just reassures you that all will be alright, soon enough. And it is! He doesn't bring up the incident unless you bring it up first - he knows that some may make comments or assumptions about the predicament, so you touching on the topic first tells him that you're comfortable to talk about it in that moment, and he will almost happily reminisce with you.

[ephemeral--dreams]

blood and grenadine

Scar/Reader

Word count: 1,531

Rating: M

Warnings: Scar is his own warning...!

Notes: feral cat reader who cannot accept affection is very important to me thanks. anyway I haven't stopped thinking about scar for a month. get him out of my head

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

You grit your teeth. It's getting tiring, the way he kept doing this. No, it is stressful. The way he goes around taking people you care about or causing mass destruction to get your attention. You worry that he's going to end up killing someone before you ever get there to confront him. Someone could get hurt, and it'll be your fault, because he's only targeting them because of his obsession with you. You wish he'd just come after you directly instead of doing all this. You don't like these little games he plays.

It's a typical but no less frustrating sight to show up to fire everywhere and screaming and him waiting for you expectantly. His head tilts. “What a coincidence. I've been expecting you.”

“Don't call it a coincidence when you did this on purpose,” it comes out scathing, sharp. He only smiles pleasantly.

“Why stop doing something that brings results? You should stop giving me what I want by showing up. You're conditioning me~”

“You can't-” you look away, trying not to simmer in your own guilt. It's stupid. You know it. He'd caused chaos before you and he'd do it whether you came or not. But you still feel as if it's your fault. If you could manage to stop him then these things wouldn't keep happening, but he always seems to get away after he has his fun. “What do I have to do to make you stop, then?”

It's worth a try. Maybe there's something he wants. Something you can get for him or… you don't know. Anything.

“Stop?” he laughs, as if the very idea is absolutely hilarious to him. Some thin thread inside of you snaps. You can't do this anymore. This cycle of violence. Innocent people getting hurt. The feeling of being helpless against it all.

“This is about me, isn't it? Then come after me. You want to fight? Then I will fight you. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me. Leave out the extra steps to get my attention. You don't need to involve anyone else.”

He's silent for a long moment as he stares at you. It's unusual for him to stop talking. But there's some sort of interest. That's what you're betting on. 

“Do you have any idea what you're offering?”

“I'm offering whatever you want.”

The expression that spreads across his face sends a shiver down your spine, his grin razorblade sharp conflicting with the strange infatuation in his eyes as he steps closer, heat radiating as he steps into your space. You resist the urge to step back. “You. Be mine for the night, and everyone here gets to run free! Isn't it a fair deal?”

There's all kinds of implications there that you don't like. God only knows what exactly he plans to do. Giving him free reign over you for even a night is a terrible, terrible idea. But does your safety really matter in comparison to that of others?

It doesn't. 

“...Fine. It's a deal.”

“You've made an excellent choice, little lamb. Let's not waste time,” the portal opens before you are given even a single chance to second guess, a hand on your shoulder coaxing you through. “Come, come. We'll have a good time, I promise. You'll want to join me when I'm done with you~”

☆

You're so tense. You always are. It's one of the easiest things to notice about you. Though it's rather troublesome when what he needs from you is for you to trust him, let him get into your head. 

“...What do you want me to do,” you ask the moment you're both through the portal, not even a moment to get your bearings. Straight to business. 

"Patience, dearest," Scar murmurs, hand still wrapped around yours in a one-sided grip as he leads you through the maze of halls. "First, we must prepare. Sometimes in order to experience the best in life, you have to shed the old.”

Your silence is uneasy, terse. You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, he can tell. It's like you think he's going to do something awful! As if he would, now that he's finally gotten a chance to get his hands on you in a way that isn't a mere fight. You simply don't appreciate how much effort he goes to just to get you to look at him. You act as if he's always out to torment you for the sake of it. 

Which he's not. His intentions are so clear! How haven't you realized it yet? The obliviousness is as endearing as it is frustrating. It's because you don't think of anything but the weight of the world. Stupid, overly self sacrificial little lamb. Not tonight.

He tugs you through his bedroom to the connecting bathroom. You stand in the corner watching warily as he sets the faucet on the tub running, debating which of the oils he wants to put in. What would you like? He knows so much about you but not such simple things. If only you weren't so resistant. He puts in what reminds him most of your perfume after a long moment of contemplation. Then he moved to light some candles. Too dark in here. Scar paid attention to every detail, setting the mood for the evening.

The water steams as he shuts off the stream. He turns to you expectantly, then moves to guide you over himself when you don't come over. “Well?” If you're not going to undress yourself he has no issue helping you along. 

You look at him. You look at the water. You look back. Suspicious. Hmph. You think a simple bath is an attempt to drown you, is that it? What a warped imagination. He's never met someone so overly cautious. “Little lamb, it's just a bath. You've got ash on you from all that chaos earlier, hm? Get in, come on.”

You look no less defensive over it, movements stiff as you obey regardless, clothing neatly folded as it is removed before you sink into the water with the kind of hesitance that feels entirely out of place for what is supposed to be a moment of relaxation. That's all it is. He just wants to ease the tension. That's it! 

He thinks that it's a good thing the tub is big enough for two, as he strips and slips in behind you. 

"Little lamb, relax," Scar's voice is quiet, his hands on your shoulders, kneading them. All the while, you remain stiff, a contrast to the warmth of the water. You really think he's going to harm you, don't you? Skittish. Perhaps that's not so surprising, but.. He lets out a soft sigh. Adorable, but so difficult. “Enjoy it. I’m not the grasping hand all the time, dearest.”

“You're a violent maniac,” is all you say in response.

“And you're too tense,” He feels a bit like he's coaxing a feral cat into accepting affection. It's as endearing as it is pitiful. Do you even know how to relax, he wonders? With how much you burden yourself with things he wouldn't be surprised if the answer was no. You almost seem more distressed when he's here being gentle with you than when he tries to attack you. As if it's all a complete and utter shock to your system. “It would do you good to let go of things. You can't can't carry so much weight forever, you know.”

You let out a quiet huff, but are otherwise silent. Is the idea really so preposterous to you? 

A little of the tension starts to ease from your body under his attention eventually, though. The slightest bit. But it is a step in the right direction. He's got his work cut out for him if he ever wants to get you to love him back, now doesn't he?

“This isn't a battlefield. I don't intend to hurt you tonight. Alright? I just wanted some alone time with you. You can calm down. You've got to give me a chance, dear~”

You tilt your head to look back at him balefully. “Maybe if you stopped causing me stress…”

“Poor little lamb,” he coos, hands still rubbing over your back. “Does it upset you that much?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Then I'll break into your house next time I want to see you. Then you can't complain. Yes?” Let it not be said that he can't compromise. 

“I- fine. Whatever. Just don't attack anyone. Please.”

“Please? Are we pleading now? How cute. But alright,” Scar leans down to kiss the top of your head. You tense again. “Shh, shh, let it happen~ Don't go all stiff again now.”

“What do you want.”

“I want you to be mine, of course. But I'll accept it if you stop acting like I'm going to stab you in the back every time I touch you, for now.”

“...A tall order.”

“We have all night.”

You sigh. “Try your best, then,” it's all the acquiescence you will offer to his intent. But Scar will take it.

He has you in his grasp now. It's only a matter of time before he gets your heart. 

[shitsndgiggs]

Can you write where the reader hook up with Joao Felix before the reader got with Kenan

A/N: I changed it a little

OLD FLAMES - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan is jealous of your friendship with Joao

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The stadium was buzzing with excitement as Turkey faced off against Portugal. The atmosphere was electric, and my heart swelled with pride and nerves as I watched Kenan warm up on the field.

I found my seat in the stands, surrounded by other enthusiastic fans, eagerly awaiting the match's start.

As the game began, I cheered for Turkey, feeling a mixture of emotions. It was always intense watching him play, but today had an added layer of tension. The match was critical, and I could feel the pressure.

Portugal scored their first goal, and the portuguese crowd erupted in cheers. Seven minutes later, an own goal by Turkey put Portugal ahead by two.

My heart sank, but I continued to cheer, hoping for a comeback.

The first half ended, and during the halftime break, I noticed João Félix glancing up at the stands. Our eyes met briefly, and he smiled, giving a small wave.

I waved back, feeling a bit awkward but knowing there was no harm in being friendly.

The second half started, and Portugal scored their third goal in the 56th minute, just two minutes before Kenan was subbed in.

I cheered loudly, my eyes glued to Kenan as he ran onto the pitch. He played with his usual intensity, but I noticed he kept glancing up at the stands where I was sitting.

After the match ended, with Turkey losing 3-0, I made my way down to the area where the players would come out. The crowd was bustling, and I felt a mix of relief and tension.

I stood there, waiting for Kenan to come out so we could head back to my hotel together. The anticipation was making me anxious, and I kept glancing around, hoping to spot him soon.

"Y/N!" a voice called, and I turned to see João Félix approaching, still in his kit, looking tired but cheerful.

"João! Hey!" I replied, giving him a friendly hug. "Great game out there."

"Thanks," he said, flashing a charming smile. "It's been a while. How have you been?"

"Good, good. Just here supporting Kenan," I replied, glancing around for my boyfriend. "You played really well."

Before João could respond, Kenan appeared, his face a mixture of relief and frustration. He spotted us and made a beeline toward me, his eyes narrowing as he saw João.

"Hey, babe," I greeted Kenan, smiling as he reached us. I leaned in to give him a kiss, but he pulled back slightly, his eyes locked on João.

"Who’s this?" Kenan asked, his voice tight and a hint of a growl in it.

"This is João Félix. João, this is my boyfriend, Kenan," I introduced them, feeling the tension rise.

João extended a hand, smiling politely. "Nice to meet you, Kenan."

Kenan shook his hand, his grip firm and a little too long. "Nice to meet you too," he said curtly, his eyes still narrowed. "What were you two talking about?"

"Just catching up," I said, placing a hand on Kenan's arm. "João and I go way back, but it's nothing, really."

Kenan's jaw clenched, and he took a step closer to João, his posture aggressive. "I don’t appreciate you hanging around my girlfriend."

João raised his hands in a placating gesture, his smile faltering. "Hey, no offense meant, man. We’re just old friends."

Kenan's eyes flashed with anger. "Well, now you know she's with me. So, you can walk away."

João glanced at me, then back at Kenan. The tension in the air was palpable, and I could see the discomfort on João's face. "Alright, no problem," he said, backing off. "Good to see you, Y/N. Take care."

As João walked away, Kenan's grip on my arm tightened. I turned to him, seeing the possessiveness and jealousy still burning in his eyes.

"You didn't have to scare him off like that," I said softly, trying to soothe him.

Kenan's eyes softened as he looked at me. "I just can't stand the thought of anyone else near you."

I couldn't help but tease him a little. "Oh, so you were watching us?"

"Of course I was. You’re my girlfriend. I don't want anyone else near you, especially not him," Kenan said, his voice still tinged with jealousy.

I smiled, trying to ease his tension. "Kenan, you have nothing to worry about. I'm yours, and only yours."

He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me possessively. "I know. But seeing him with you just... it got to me."

I leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You’re cute when you're jealous."

Kenan pouted, his arms tightening around me. "It's not cute. I just... I can't stand the thought of anyone else trying to take you away."

I kissed him softly, trying to ease his insecurities. "No one could ever take me away from you, Kenan. You're the one I love."

He sighed, resting his forehead against mine. "I know. But I'm still going to be a little jealous."

"That's okay," I whispered. "Just means you care."

Kenan's pout turned into a small smile, his grip on me relaxing slightly. "I do care. More than anything."

We stood there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the noise of the stadium fading into the background.

Eventually, Kenan pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "Promise me you'll always tell me if someone bothers you."

"I promise," I said, squeezing his hand. "But right now, all I care about is you."

He nodded, finally letting go of his jealousy. "Let's get out of here."

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Cure [Sex Pollen Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader x Frank Castle

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sex Pollen Situation 1. A fictional substance that makes the characters experience unbearable pain if they don't fuck. "You, Bucky, and Frank are exposed to a strange chemical in an abandoned Hydra warehouse. And there's only one way to make the effects wear off faster."

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader. Implied sexual assault of and by Bucky during his time as the Winter Soldier. Implied past/current casual sexual relationships between the Reader/Bucky and Reader/Frank. All the dubious consent circumstances that come with sex pollen. Unprotected P in V, threesome, breeding kink, creampies, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, honey). 

WC: 3,200

A/N: Trope de Sept order got a little shuffle. Don't worry, everything is still coming, I just wanted to space out characters, fic types, etc. now that I have a better idea of what the rest of the fics will be.

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

How you and Bucky managed to get separated from the rest of the team, you weren’t sure.

The Hydra base was recently abandoned. Tipped off that the Avengers were on their way, they scrambled to make their escape, leaving miscellaneous papers, weapons, and other evidence of guilt behind.

You certainly weren’t going to take anyone in on this, but at least you’d have some clues that could maybe point to where they’d be next.

You and Bucky made your way into some kind of lab, the rest of the team raiding other areas of the base. Coms were down, but you weren’t too concerned as there seemed to be no threat that required back up. Hydra left this place abandoned and disheveled due to their hastened exit.  

“Shit. There’s no one here.” Bucky lamented, sending a set of empty beakers crashing to the floor in frustration

“Not no one, but sure as shit ain’t Hydra.” a gravelly voice cut through the darkness of the lab

You and Bucky turned to the source; a tall figure attached to dusty combat boots, vest dripping with white paint smears and long-ago dried blood splatters. He wore a scowl on his tired face, a bruise covering the left side of his jaw, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Castle.” Bucky nodded toward him

“Barnes. Sweetheart.” he nodded back to the two of you

“I’m sorry– sweetheart? How do you two…” Bucky asked, pointing between you and Frank.

“Remember when you said I should get a hobby? You know when weeks go by and there are no missions?” you said

“I meant like, take up pickleball or crocheting; not get sexually involved with vigilantes.”

“Hey, hey!” Frank rebutted

“Woah!” you also interrupted Bucky’s implication “Who said anything about me sleeping with him? No, I started taking on some– let’s just call them personal cases outside of work. You know, using my powers to be the everyman's hero. I run into Frank on rooftops sometimes.”

“So your hobby is being a superhero, when you’re not at work being a superhero?”

“I mean sometimes we also sleep with each other.” Frank added

Frank was lucky your powers didn’t involve laser vision, or else he’d be burnt to a crisp by the way you glared at him.

“Really, doll? Castle?”

“You know what Bucky, I don’t need judgment from someone who's dating pool includes all four of the Golden Girls. Wait, how do you two know each other?” you motioned between him and Frank

“A mutual friend of ours, Curtis Hoyle, runs a veterans therapy group once a week. It usually also turns into a poker game at my place afterwards.”

“Wilson joins sometimes too.” Frank added

“Didn’t think this was your scene, Castle,” Bucky said, bringing the subject back to the mission “Thought you worked alone. You’re not thinking of joining up are you?”

Frank scoffed. “Nah. Following a lead. Led me here.”

“To a world wide terrorist orginization’s base?”

“You’d be surprised how many of the street level scumbags I chase down are involved in shit like this.”

“So you came here to go all Punisher on them?”

Frank raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Sure, the Avengers have been playing whack-a-mole with them for years, but the vigilante with a rage problem and a bunch of guns is gonna do it.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Fairness to me, didn’t know just what this place was til I got here.”

Bucky let out a deep exhale. He glanced between you and Frank, before returning his focus to the abandoned lab around you.

“Well you’re here now, might as well make yourself useful.”

The three of you looked high and low through the lab and turned up nothing of real value that could even be a glimmer of a lead on what Hydra was planning next or where they had scurried off to.

Bucky used his vibranium arm to bust open the door of a locked walk-in freezer, the last place it seemed you hadn’t searched.

Various test tubes and bags of medical supplies sat on the shelves, some full of odd looking substances, others spilled over and shattered from Hydra’s escape efforts.

Frank walked up to a shelf containing vials of cherry-colored liquid, picking one up in his large hand and examining it curiously.

“Don't touch that!” Bucky exclaimed, lunging forward just as Frank turned his head

Their bodies collided, sending the glass canister spinning into the air and crashing down to the ground. The red substance splashed all over the concrete floor and tiny fragments of glass flew in every direction.

“Castle, please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

“The hell you mean, me? You’re the one who pushed me!” Frank argued back

Bucky’s panic stricken gaze met yours and you had never seen fear quite like this in his eyes.

“Don't breathe.” he commanded

“What do you mean don’t breathe?” you asked, shaking off some of the liquid that splattered on your boot

“Oh god, no no no. It’s too late. We’ve all already been exposed.” Bucky lamented, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands.

“Bucky, what is that stuff? What is going on?”

“It’s a serum.”

“Like a super soldier serum?”

“Yes. But also no. This one’s effects are temporary. And highly potent. And very airborne.”

“Airborne. Like we all just breathed it in?”

“Yep.” he confirmed

“So what does it do? What’s gonna happen to us?” you asked, panic rising in your chest

“When I was theirs,” he motioned to the room around you, implying his time as Hydra’s prisoner “They realized all their sick experiments finally worked on me and they wanted more super soldiers, to replicate what they’d created in my bloodstream. The problem was, this was right around the time Dr. Zola got captured and arrested by the team that would become Shield.”

You glanced up and down the shelves once more, hoping something in here could be used for first aid in treating whatever the hell was about to happen to the three of you.

“So without their best scientist, no matter how many liters of my blood they took and tried to recreate the serum with, they couldn’t. In a last ditch attempt, they thought maybe it could be transferred genetically, They thought maybe they could use me to breed more supersoldiers.”

Your attention snapped back to Bucky.

“Breed? Wait, so they made you…? Oh my god, with who?!” you asked in horror as Bucky revealed yet another disturbing detail of his past

“Usually volunteers for Hydra’s cause. Sometimes other prisoners; women they also had been doing experiments on.”

“That’s disgusting.” you commented

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“But what does that have to do with that stuff?” Frank motioned to the mess still splattered on the floor

“Zola’s prodigy, a real peach of a human named Dr. Whitehall, wanted to ensure the maximum possibility my DNA would take and the women participants would be as fertile as possible. I mean, after all this shit they did to me before, they thought maybe my swimmers would be pretty fried and they could create something to remedy that. So that stuff is a concoction he created in the 70s, basically it enhances all sexual urges to their most primal instinct, so those exposed are inclined to reproduce.”

“So it’s horny juice?” Frank asked

“Eloquent as always Castle, but yes. I’d say we have about ten more minutes before it kicks in. Once it does, it’s really painful until it’s out of your system or until you act on what it wants you to.” he turned to you “Okay here’s what’s gonna happen– Doll, you’re gonna go outside and lock Frank and me in this freezer so you’ll be safe from us.”

“Safe from you? What do you mean?”

“This stuff, it kinda alters your self control for a while. Like I said, it makes you run more on instinct, especially when the painful side effects hit. Once it starts kicking in, we’ll do anything to get rid of the pain. Frank and I won’t be able to resist you and you won’t be up for putting up much of a fight either. Get somewhere where our coms will work again and radio to the team, have them get you to Banner’s lab immediately. He might be able to concoct something to ease your symptoms for a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Well it fades faster if you… ya know. But if you don’t, it could take a while to move through your system.”

“What about the two of you?”

“We’ll just have to… take care of ourselves here.” he said, making lewd gesture with his hand “Won’t be as efficient as the real thing, but it’ll help.” 

“I’m not gonna leave the two of you to just jack off and suffer.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll be fine. Just worry about you.” Frank chimed in, agreeing with Bucky

“If the solution is to… you know fuck it out. I mean shit, it’s nothing I haven’t already done with either of you.”

“Excuse me?” Frank inquired, now the one whipping his head to look between the two of you

“Remember in group a couple months ago when I said I got casually involved with a coworker, but broke it off cause it was getting in the way of our work? Well...” Bucky gestured towards you

“Unbelievable.” Frank grumbled with a shake of his head

You sat on the floor across from Bucky, tac suit suddenly feeling a bit too tight and itchy against your skin.

“This freezer we’re in… it’s still on right?” you asked

“Yeah.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m gonna combust at any minute?”

“It’s the serum. Shit, it’s already taking effect.” Bucky rushed over and crouched down beside you “Doll, you sure you don’t want to get out of here?”

“No. I want to stay. I want to help both of you and I don’t want to go through this alone either.” you said, unzipping your jacket and tossing it across the room without a thought, “Jesus it feels like my blood is on fire.”

You fanned yourself with your hands to no avail. This must have been how your mother felt during your teenage years when she’d lament about hot flashes.

Suddenly, you understood what Bucky meant by pain all over your body. It started small, almost like a needle prick, near your abdomen, but rapidly spread like ink on wet parchment.

Evidence that they were both starting to feel it too was showing; the way Frank’s brows were scrunched and how he was keeled over, hands on his knees with white knuckles gripping at his jeans. Bucky’s supersoldier powers combined with his previous exposures to this substance, he seemed reasonably calm compared to the two of you. His blue eyes were glazed over in a vacant stare as he sat on the ground across from you. Sweat droplets were beginning to form on his unusually pale skin. 

“P–please” you begged to both of them, pain suddenly unbearable as you pushed your pelvis off the floor, trying to find relief with friction against nothing.

You reached out to Bucky, but he shook his head no.

“Take care of Frank first.” he lulled his head to look at you “I’m more resistant to it’s effects. I’ll be fine for a while.”

“How many times do we have to… you know, to get it out of our systems?” you asked, still writhing your body against the air.

“As many times as it takes.” Bucky said

“Frankie” you reached a hand forward, beckoning him towards you.

He stumbled as he crossed the room, still slouched over slightly as he walked.

Frank’s cock was obviously strained against his jeans as he crouched down in front of you, deep brown eyes meeting your gaze.

“Sweetheart, you sure?” he asked once more, resistance to the serum fading quickly as he ran the back of two fingers down your arm, stroking you in reassurance.

As soon as his hand brushed your skin, icy relief washed over you, sending goosebumps along your flesh. You had the irresistible urge to press more of his skin against yours, to be as close to him as possible to quell the heat still bubbling beneath the surface.

All you could do was nod in response as you lunged forward, rubbing your hand along the bulge in his pants. Frank whined, a sound you’d never heard him make in the times you’d fallen into bed together, before crashing his lips against yours.

His kisses were fiery, full of tongue and teeth, like he just couldn’t drink enough of you in. Usually so patient and tender in bed, his large hands were now clawing at you, desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as he could. 

He tugged off your boots in one motion, allowing you to shimmy your pants down your body. Both of your shirts were quickly discarded as well. Fumbling to unbutton his jeans and push them down, Frank let out a relieved sigh as he finally freed his aching cock. The cool air from the freezer hit your sopping cunt, refreshing as another wave of heat rolled through your body as the serum was now fully in control.

You glanced over to Bucky as Frank laid you down on the hard concrete floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure, flesh hand down his pants stroking himself to quell the growing anguish as he listened to you and Frank. 

“Goddamnit doll, I can smell you.” His breathing was labored as he spoke.

Frank reached down, running a trembling finger through your folds.

“Shit Barnes, of course you can, she’s soaked.”

“P– please Frank” You begged again as Frank touched you where you needed him most, the action unknowingly teasing you into more pain.

“Shhh shh shh sweetheart. I know. It’s hurting me too. I’ll take care of you.” Frank reassured, sliding two fingers into you effortlessly

A strained sob slipped from you as he pumped in and out of you, relieved at the sensation but still in so much agony from not getting what you really needed.

“I think you’re ready.” he commented, barely restraining himself from just taking you roughly

You reached for his shoulders, guiding him fully on top of you. As he lowered himself he slid inside you in one motion, sinking all the way in easily. The serum didn’t allow him any pause, hips immediately snapping in and out with rough thrusts, primal need taking full control. His ample length repeatedly hit that perfect spingey spot inside you, causing you to cry out.

God the sounds in the room were downright sinful. Frank, who had been incredibly verbal during your previous trists, now reduced to only groans and grunts being swallowed by your sloppily placed kisses. Bucky’s lewd moans echoed off the walls and combined with the sound of skin slapping and your mewling. The vulgar symphony only spurred you on. Your peak hit you surprisingly quickly, though you attributed that to the foreign chemical invading your system.

It was like no other orgasm you’d ever had, like those viral videos of a firework finale all accidentally exploding at once. It felt endless, like you’d just be there cumming on the floor for the rest of your life.

“Shit honey, keep squeezing me just like that.” Frank finally found his words, climbing his own summit to relief. His large hand gripped at your jaw, steadying you beneath him as his movements became more erratic, an improvised drum solo of a brutal pace.

His dark eyes met yours, pupils blown out as he watched you come apart beneath him once more. Another overwhelming orgasm washed over you, more intense than the last.

That was enough to drag Frank over the edge with you. He pulsed deep inside you, filling you to the brim so much that you could feel it running down your legs before he even pulled back.

“Goddamnit.” he groaned into your shoulder

Sprawled out on the floor, you were an absolute mess of your own slick and sweat and Frank’s cum, but you didn’t care. You still direly needed more relief and knew Bucky must’ve been in total agony by this point; listening and watching you and Frank go at it.

“How you doing sweetheart?” Frank asked as he rolled off you, now a little more clarity that he’d gotten one orgasm out. You could still see the strained muscles in his neck, his skin still a shade of red as his lust was not yet fully satiated. 

“Better. Still hurts a little but much more bearable. Bucky, you ready to take over?”

He was slumped against the wall, eyes still squeezed shut. His jacket and shirt were gone and his pants were undone. But he’d given up on touching himself, knowing it wouldn’t soothe his suffering in the way he needed. You crawled across the floor toward him.

“Hey Buck? Eyes on me baby.”

His eyes snapped open and looked at you, full of desperation and pity.

“Let me help, yeah?” you spoke sweetly

He nodded, watching limply as you fumbled with his fly and exposed his throbbing length.

A switch seemed to flip inside him as you straddled him and sank down, coming alive with an animalistic fervor as you rocked your hips slowly. He let out a hearty exhale feeling your velvety walls all the way down his cock, finally alleviating the anguish he’d been trying so hard to conceal. 

Every sensation in your body was amplified, every touch of Bucky’s skin against yours was exquisite, every caress of his metal arm up and down your back shot like lightning striking straight to your core. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every thrust, every exhale. Overwhelmed by it all, you collapsed against his shoulder, letting him take the reins as he began to pitch himself up into you. How different he was too in this circumstance than the times previously you’d had him. Long languid strokes to ensure you’d feel it all long forgotten in favor of dragging you down by the hips over and over to meet his pace, every slam punctuated by lust and fury. Muttering ‘oh god’ and ‘yes baby please’ into your ear.

A soft caress brushed along the back of your neck, Frank kneeling behind you placing tender, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder blades as you and Bucky fucked it out. The urge must’ve been building in him again because his hands were all over you and soon enough you weren’t sure whose grasp was where, only vaguely aware because Bucky’s vibranium touch was cool and calm amongst the heightened temperature of your sweaty skin. 

Your orgasm with Bucky blossomed, rising from deep within your core and spreading like wings in the breeze. You cried into his shoulder as he did not relent in his pace, pulling your pelvises flush as he came inside you with a carnal moan.

But you still weren’t satiated and you could tell neither were they. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night. 

[robogart]

*points THAT'S MY FRIEND*

I've been watching calico play BG3 while I've been playing on my switch and while I'm not even playing the game - it has been a second-hand frustration experience. There is honestly so little I enjoy in this game, the few things being the acting and mocap (for some, not all of the characters), some of the music tracks and, most importantly, the Speak To Animals feature. But nothing about the actual gameplay or the design of the game (both in interface and story) feels thought out At All.

And to see the amount of praise - and I mean, ABSOLUTE praise, with NARY A QUALM - has been so incredibly frustrating that calico and I look to each and are constantly screaming the aforementioned statement: "I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!!!"

How can a game, with SO many predecessors to look back on for structure, mechanics and story-telling (the most glaringly obvious being Dragon Age, but literally any fantasy RPG can do) literally ignore ANY good decisions and create something like this? It honestly makes me feel like the developers intentionally avoided or were Ordered to ignore actually implementing any sort of gameplay mechanic that could be derived from outside their studio. I was sitting and watching and just thinking to myself "if they want to have a map setup and keep it turn-based, WHY don't they just make the battle mechanics similar to Fire Emblem? Why not implement a grid system? Why the fuck is movement SO tedious? Why is that hotbar design SO unnecessarily complicated?"

And while the game is BEAUTIFUL and technically gorgeous to look at (the mocap acting and animation is lovely and some of the creature designs are really fun), the actual visual design choices of the game are really not good. There is just TOO MUCH on the screen. There is NO visual hierarchy. Directive composition is generally lacking (Where Should I Go Next? Couldn't Tell You It All LOOKS THE SAME). And another thing - there is simultaneously NO environmental storytelling and yet there is so much Stuff that you pick up (letters, items, etc) that literally do nothing and add nothing. No sidequest, no interest, absolutely nothing. Why does every single person I talk to need their own dialogue cutscene? What does that add? NOTHING.

Calico put this SO right when saying this is a maximalist behemoth (which feels like the state with SO many of these AAA/adjacent games) and for a game that loves to brag about it's 17,000 endings, it's ability to give the players so much choice - it does Nothing. There's absolutely no follow through, reward or consequence to any decision in this. It's just maybe an instantaneous outcome, if anything, and then it moves on to whatever it (the studio) wants you to do next.

Doesn't matter if you helped these guys, they're still going to get fucked up! "Well sometimes life isn't fair" NO! This is lazy writing!! It's shallow! So much of this game just feels like you're asking "but what does this actually add though?" and their response would be "but is has 17,000 ENDINGS what other game does THAT FOR YOU?" It's one-pump-chump energy. It reeks of no foreplay. If you need 17,000 endings to mark as a selling point of your game, it tells me you couldn't even write One Good Ending.

I feel like for any game with multiple choices, you can have 3-5 endings (even LESS) and that would be PLENTY. 17,000 is just EMBARRASSING. Maybe they should've taken all the time and actually committed it to writing out ACTUALLY fleshed out and developed characters. Everyone is SO flatlined, and the only reason these characters stand out at all is because of the actor's performance behind them. Their actual story? Their actual personalities? Paper thin. Disintegrating in the rain. The strongest character story in my opinion was Astarion - but again, so much of that is Neil Newbon's performance. But the story arc is tight, it's succinct and it's well delivered. Gale is also a pretty solid storyline (he doesn't feel as well integrated though at the moment here in Act 3, but there's also just TOO MUCH of nothing going on) and Wyll was set up to be So SOLID but I feel like he's just not given enough space? Drama for his story to unfold?? He should be SO much more involved in this game given his background at Baldur's Gate but there's just no setup for him. Why??? And I hate that I didn't include any of the women in here - but frankly their stories and personalities were just not well done. Shadowheart feels she's definitely given the most time, but she is still boring, unlikeable (and not even in a fun way), and her story is somehow overdeveloped and underdeveloped at the same time? And everyone else just feels tacked on and flat as paper!

Man, I definitely know there's more to yell about here but BOY is this game lauded WAY too much. I have to wonder if it's people who are being paid, gamer bros who just wanting to gatekeep and tell you it's a skill issue, or people who just simply haven't played another rpg yet to know what a good one is? I don't know. But anyways - yelling about this game! If you also feel like your taking crazy pills - you're in good company here! 👏✨✨✨

I can't be only one, right...?

I wanted to finish the game and then write this post but I gave up. I put in 100 plus hours and just could not go on once I got into act three. Maybe no one will hear my pitiful cry from the void, but I must scream for the sake of my sanity.

I was completely and utterly disappointed by Baldur's Gate 3. 

It had huge maps like an open world game yet I had no desire to explore the settings despite their beauty. It had hours of dialogue as an RPG would and yet I found myself skipping characters' responses. The game mechanic structure was inspired by DnD, a story-telling game dictated by some rules, lucky rolls and the extent of players' imagination, yet I was strong-armed into fighting impossibly stacked battles. A story-telling game dependent on the players’ attachment to their and their teammates' characters and yet this game lacked any kind of narrative consistency or depth of feeling. 

Larian wanted to make an open world RPG, based off of DND mechanics and somehow did the worst version of all three. The studio touts that Baldur’s Gate 3 has 17,000 possible endings and 2 million words, but to what end? What did this game have to say about what happens when people rise to the challenge and become heroes despite their circumstances or fall into the dark and become the monsters they were supposed to fight? What did it suggest might happen when fate deals you a bad hand but in doing so also helps you find true friends or love with the other? Ultimately, nothing. 

BG3 is so large that it ends up being incoherent. No writing or game structure decisions were made to keep the narrative tight and on theme. It urges players to choose a moral alignment, but most decisions, good or bad, seem to end up having little effect in the end. To play the game at all you have to resort to save scumming and that in turn deflates the possible impact of so many plot points of the narrative overall. 

Forcing players to save scum in order to progress through the game is terrible design in general. Statistically speaking the bosses make impossible critical hits again and again. I was playing in the game’s “casual mode” and found myself struggling to get through confrontations with bosses that were at a lower level than my own. If you are reading and thinking oh well you are probably not using tactics or spells well, etc., let’s do a little experiment…

Take your d20 (https://rolladie.net/roll-a-d20-die if you don’t have one in person). In the third act of BG3 I had an AC of 13 as a sorcerer with 100 plus HP. Roll your d20 ten times or more. How many times out of ten would your character have gotten to hit mine successfully? Unless an enemy is extremely lucky it should be unlikely that an enemy could hit my character every turn they get. And even if they do they would have to roll for damage which is only a single d6, d8, d10 or d12 plus a modifier at lower levels depending on your class. Again an enemy would have to have an extremely lucky roll to hit me every turn AND deal significant damage. During an in person DnD session that is just a bad night for my character. In a video game on casual mode that is significantly suspicious. 

So what you might say. You've made and enjoyed the fanart, memes and etc. You got your $61 worth of playtime. So many other people were fine with the game, what is your problem? 

I love video games. They blend so many artforms and tell stories in ways never done before. It is a medium unique to our current century and when historians look back they will view video games as an insight to our culture. 

It frustrates me to no end that Baldur’s Gate 3 is considered the next gold standard. Too many games have done open world and RPGs in a fantasy setting far better for Larian (Swen Vincke) to have made the design and writing choices they did with BG3. There are so many podcasts and shows that have written better stories through the DnD format. I am embarrassed for the medium as an artist and frustrated as a player. Players and the industry deserve better than to have artists, actors, engineers etc. burn themselves out creating maximalist behemoths like this game. A game that is beautiful but basically unplayable, narratively, nihilistic and incoherent. 

[alwayshere195]

I wish we got Diego and Five in the timeline subway instead of Lila and Five. The deep desire for us getting the same premise but with a different execution.

Imagine Diego going and asking why Five can't blink only to end up in the subway with him. Five reluctantly, explaining everything he knows. Something Diego isn't fully comprehending but understands.

The silly idea of Diego coming up with the timeline travel and getting stuck in the subway with Five. The possibilities of their interactions.

The idea of Apocalypse Five shooting at them, causing Diego to ask who's that. "Me, of course, who else was in the apocalypses?!" Five responds, heading back down into the subway. Diego follows, "Well, sorrrry! I thought you had better aim than that!" Five shoots him a look.

The idea of when they realized they're trapped, we hear dialog. Diego shouting that this is EXACTLY what Five wanted. Klaus was right! He is a chaos junkie!

Five, throwing his hands up: I don't know why everyone says that! I'm not. This isn't what I wanted.

Diego: You appear in your element!

Five: Of course I do! This is all I know, Diego! I got stuck in an apocalypse at 13! 13! I was trapped for 45 years in it! Besides living in it, need I remind that I witnessed it again and again and again?! But that doesn't mean I want it!

Diego: Then what do you want? Because (mocking) Need I remind, you went off to join the CIA. You barely kept in contact for the past 6 years. You-

Five: I want peace! I want silence! I want to not worry about you idiots! I want... Forget it. Let's keep looking to get out of here.

How it finally pushes these two to talk. Their relationship has been rocky but there's always trust between them. Plus, Five doesn't really open up. So for the day to come where Diego once again pushes Fives buttons but the correct ones this time to get a

Five: I'm tired, ok? I have seen you all die again and again and again. I'm tired. I tried time traveling, I tried talking, I tried murder, I've tried, and it all keeps going to hell. There's only so much before it feels impossible or that I'm the problem. Sure, Viktor caused the first three apocalypse but not those after that. Not all this (refering to the subway). Only I could come here...

Diego, sighing after hearing all this for the first time: Yeah, you are a problem. A problematic piece of shit like the rest of us. And for holding all this in like a secret to take to the grave. But you're not to blame for everything. If anyone's to blame, it's Dad.

How they grow closer and Diego realizes just how tired Five is. He's exhausted and barely holding on. It doesn't help that no one in the family ever truly thanked him. So he does. Gives Five a genuine "Thanks by the way. For spending 45 years and some figuring out how to save us. I appreciate it. I like being alive." And how Five gets quiet as thats all he ever truly wanted. A thank you.

How Diego opens up about his relationship issues and how his rants turn into frustration about it all. Him voicing how he'd LOVE "bookclub" because FUCK MAN he needs a "bookclub" too! He'd be in full support! And he wished she was more vocal about things like he is instead of playing the guessing game. And how it turns into all the things he wants to do when he sees her again. Tell her everything. Open up. Hold her. Kiss her. Be in the same love he always really had for her. Fives there supporting him.

Five finds the journal and ponders it. Keeps the information hidden from Diego for a day or two before he's caught reading it. Diego's rightfully upset but Five brings up points.

Five: I was reading it. Making sure I understood what to do before we had a talk.

Diego: A talk? What is there to talk about?

Five: What if it went to shit out there and everyone's died? What if-

Diego: No, Five. There is no ifs here. We're going back and we're going to see how things are. Worst case scenario, we go back in time and save their lousy asses. Together. Best case scenario, we see our family again. I get to see Lila and my kids again.

Five: Right...

They go back and they find out that Luther and Lila ended up going to the CIA because "My husband always talks about this place, and my brother-in-law works here. So maybe there's information." And it makes Diego's hesrt flutter.

Just... what we could have had.

[jok13-writings]

Something About Us (Modern AU, Gyuraro x reader) Prt 2

Read part 1 |. Read full work on AO3 here

Note: Thank you so much everyone for all the love that the first chapter has received! I'm really happy to be able to post the second part. I apologize for the slow update, but I hope you guys enjoy it! I will continue working on this series and slowly update new chapters here and in AO3. I'm open to any suggestion or tips as always!

Gyutaro was laying in his bed playing some games in his old beaten up PSP when he heard his phone vibrate in his night stand. A sigh of annoyances escaped his lips and placed the console on the bed, feeling a little pissed off for being interrupted while having a moment to relax. He rarely got any message, only from Ume or some of his few friends, so he grabbed it, thinking that probably was one of them. He unlocked the phone and felt his heart do a small jolt as he saw who it belonged to. 

Cute girl from class: “Hey Gyutaro, its Y/N, I was wondering when are you available so we can meet up and start the project ☺️” 

Gyutaro immediately felt his cheeks head up and a bubbly feeling building into his chest, as he stared at the message that you had sent him. “Damn, is that annoying girl again…” he muttered under his breath. Then he ran a hand through his messy black locks in frustration. 

Since the moment that you smiled at him for the first time, he felt a bunch of mixed feelings towards you. He was not used to receiving attention from girls, specially not girls as pretty as you. Normally in high school, girls would look at him in disgust or talk to him just to poke fun on him. The prettiest the girl, the meanies were her to him. 

So when the first day of class you walked towards him and introduced yourself in the sweetest voice he had ever heard, his brain stopped working. He did not know how to react at all, for a moment his defenses came at full force and just told you to “get lost”, leaving as fast as he could in fear of  getting mocked by you. 

He thought that with that you would not talk to him ever again, just like everyone else did when he usually acted like that. But then you continued to smile at him the next day, taking him completely out of guard. When you started to say good morning and greet him almost daily, he started thinking that maybe you were stupid or just out of your mind. He did not understand what exactly did you want from him and felt a little anxious and confused. But even though all that, he secretly craved the attention he was receiving from you.

Slowly, he started to long for those little moments. You were a pretty girl, so why wouldn’t he?  He always ignored you at the beginning, most of the time taken out of guard by your politeness, feeling as if his heart would go out of his chest. But with time, as he got used to it, he would give you sometimes a small nod in acknowledgment. 

He couldn’t help it, but he started to taking notice of you in class, sometimes just staring at you from the distance, watching you interact with your friends or answering questions in class.  He felt a sense of disdain towards you, a typical popular pretty girl with everything in life served in a silver plate…. He couldn’t stand you at all, but for some reason he felt drawn to you, and he hated it. 

Then, one particular day that he skipped class, he received the first message from you in his phone. At the beginning he was confused, not used to receive notifications from unknown numbers. And when he unlocked his phone and saw that it was from a girl that was sending him her notes, well, he was even more confused. 

Why would anyone send him their notes? Specially to him of all people? 

But then he looked at the profile picture of the unknown number and saw a picture of you in a cute blue dress drinking a cocktail, and almost dropped his phone. 

Of course, it had to be the cute girl from class that always smiled at him… He felt his chest flutter. Damn it, why was he feeling like this? 

He did not respond to your message till the next day with a rude tone, but he surely had spent the night looking at your profile picture. 

All this small gestures weren’t small at all for Gyutaro. No one had ever taken the time to acknowledge him like this before, and for the first time in his entire life he felt seen by someone other than his own little sister. 

He hated it, but he was growing attached to a random girl from class for just doing the barely minimum for him. And the worse part is that he did not know how to react to all this kind gestures he was receiving. 

So when he noticed you between the crowd one Saturday in his basketball match, he almost barfed from the anxiety. Why were you there?, could it be the possibility that you were there to see him? It couldn’t be that, surely. 

During the beginning of the match, he couldn’t focus at all, stealing glances at your way all the time. But then he started to feel more motivated by your presence. He wanted to do his best for you, in order to impress you. At the end of the match, he managed to basket four times and performed better than he ever had in a long time. After that day, he really wished you would go see him every match, having the little fantasy of how nice it would be to have for once someone to cheer for him among the grades.

Deep down, he knew that you were shallow and that probably he wasn't even someone special for you. But he couldn’t help but begin to feel a certain way towards you and want to cling into a small feeling of hope. Because maybe… just maybe… you could be interested in him in a certain way, right? After all, you always smiled at him, and more over, for some strange reason that he couldn’t understand, you never looked at him with disgust. It was crazy really, and all his self-deprecating thoughts were screaming at him constantly that he was being delusional. But he couldn’t help it, he was starting to develop a crush on you.

He began to make a conscious effort to suppress those feelings and ignore you even more. He couldn’t let himself be vulnerable like that. But every time he saw you in class and got a glimpse of your smile, his heart melted. 

And then, you did the most unexpected thing… you asked him to be your partner in the next project. 

He wasn’t sure if that wasn’t just a prank or something. You have been nice to him, sure, but why would you even want to do any project with him to begin with?  And what if it was all an elaborate prank to make him fall for you and then make fun of him?  He was paranoid there, so he acted as usual, pretending indifference and anger. But at the end… he couldn’t say no to your cute pretty face, so now he was here, answering your text and agreeing to met up after class on Friday to do the damn stupid project.

What was he getting himself into?  

[cuips-not-cute]

wip weekend!!

because i missed wip wednesday AND wip wednesday thursday whoops

thank you @carbonbased000 and @postmodernau and everyone else who has tagged me in wip games ily all

here is a chunk from brl ch11 which is slowlyyyy being written:

Eddie’s head spins. He goes where Steve’s hand guides him, fits his mouth around his balls. They’re even harder to suck through the fabric than Steve’s cock is. Eddie’s tongue traces uselessly around them, between them, underneath.

The spread of Steve’s knees goes wider, makes room. Eddie’s efforts redouble. He tries sucking just one ball. Tries the other. The fabric’s so tight it doesn’t do much, just soaks Steve’s underwear to the point of translucence. He sniffs, frustrated, arms straining in their binds, ducking lower like maybe he could just scoop them upward into his mouth, suck them that way.

Eddie wiggles his tongue against the fabric. His licks go deep, searching for purchase among slick skin and slippery fabric. He’s panting, and his eyes are closed. Steve tastes like spit here. Sweat and something earthier.

The hand in Eddie’s hair goes still. Steve gasps above him, sharp and tight.

Eddie’s eyes fly open. He’s met with the sight of spit-damp underwear clinging to Steve’s asscheeks, one thick line in the fabric where Eddie’s dumb fucking tongue had shoved it in the crack.

It’s too close, too close, too fucking close to his—

Eddie tries to backpedal. Off Steve’s bed and out the goddamn window. Jerks against his binds and the hands that hold him.

He can’t move. Steve’s grip on his hair is ironclad. He’s dragged higher, away from that soft, dark place, mouth settled over somewhere less offensive.

“You’re good,” Steve whispers. “It’s okay, man. You’re good.”

tagging anyone who sees this and wants to do a little writing❤️

[twainxavier]

Last Line Tag Game (Part 2 XD)

Thank you so much for the tag @samsalami66 !

Okay, so this is my writing version of the Last Line Tag Game 🤣 This is from a Catwin fic I have been writing for far too long and I need to start posting it soon 😅 it's going to be a Dark Academia/Academic Rivals AU 👀

Edwin tried holding the dead ice pack closer to him in the hope that it might somehow revive it, but instead it just sent a sting through his eye. A whimper escaped him before he could hold it back, and that injured cat look returned to Thomas’ face. Edwin felt a twinge of shame and frustration at being given that pitying look yet again, but he couldn't deny that Thomas was right to look at him that way. He was on the verge of sobbing for what must have been the hundredth time since the attack. Some buried part of him wanted to just lean on Thomas' shoulder and steal away his pity and comfort whilst he still had it. He didn't let himself give in to that, and instead just conceded defeat and dropped his hand away from his eye, the long melted ice pack flopping down along with it. Thomas took it without question and went to the freezer, returning just seconds later with another ice pack wrapped in the same tea towel. Edwin took it as graciously as he could manage, and went to bring it up to his face when his wall crumbled away to nothing once more. A broken sob ripped free from him, and opened the floodgates on its way out. He could not even pinpoint the exact reason for this particular breakdown. All Thomas did was hand him an ice pack. Now his arms felt too heavy to bother lifting, not even to try to hide himself. Thomas said nothing, and simply joined him on the sofa. Edwin was thankful for that. He doubted he would be able to form a sentence right now, or even a few words. Again he wants to seek comfort from the other man, but again he knows that would be ridiculous. His arms are still dead weights, pinning him in place, not that any other limb would have the energy to move him anyways. Running away to his room to hide himself would have been so easy a few moments ago. He should have. But he felt he owed it to Thomas not to run away right after he had cooked for him and cared for him despite how snide he was being. And yet again, Thomas takes matters into his own hands anyways. He takes Edwin's hand—that now oddly recognisable softness—and carefully raises it and the ice pack to his face.

Hope you all enjoyed that little sneak peak! Okay, no pressure tags, of course, and I know I tagged you all earlier but I'm gonna do it again 🤣👌

@pumpkinkingsalem @stardustloki @shutupeiffel @here-be-bec and also @seiya-starsniper

And anyone else who feels like joining in! 😊👍

[scarabsinthestardust]

The Hurtin' Kind

MASTERLIST

Josh x male OC

I know I should be working on Tender, but I got this silly little idea in my head and couldn't ignore it any longer. And no, I definitely *checks notes* did not model this character after Orville Peck (I just think he's neat, okay??) If anyone's feeling adventurous and wants to write the actual smut for this, you're more than welcome to (we will have a spring wedding). Anyways, enjoy! And thanks for reading.

Listen to the inspiration here

WARNINGS: drinking; some light, general sadness; implications of sex; I dunno, let me know if I missed anything

word count: 1800+

Josh was not having a good day. It had been stressful, to say the least, and quite disastrous. He’d been at the studio all day trying to record music for their newest album, and nothing seemed to be going right. He couldn’t hit the right notes and kept forgetting the lyrics, which then led to insufferable bickering between him and his brothers. He pushed back, blaming it on their inability to play the music they’d all written together, and before long, everyone was so frustrated they couldn’t look at each other. Josh had been fighting off a headache all day and wanted nothing more than to go home and get some much needed sleep, but he was wired from the arguing and he needed to wind down.

On top of it all, and he hated to admit it, he was lonely. He couldn’t pinpoint when or why he started feeling that way, but it had become an ever-present nagging in his gut, like a splinter he couldn’t free from under his skin. He’d always been the happy one, the one who’s constantly smiling and laughing, the one who gets compared to the sun due to his joyous nature. But sometimes it was exhausting. Sometimes he just wanted to abandon the role for someone else to have, to go some place where no one knows his name, where he could wallow in peace.

That’s how he ended up here, in this dimly lit bar on the edge of town, where he almost forgot he was even in the city. He’s seated at a table by himself, nursing a drink and allowing himself to get lost in his own thoughts. He turned his phone off, and he’s sure to have quite a collection of missed calls and text messages from his brothers, but he wasn’t currently concerned about that.

The atmosphere of the place was kind of relaxing. It wasn’t necessarily dingy in any way. In fact, it was sort of homey. Mostly everyone seemed to know each other, exchanging friendly conversations as they sipped their beers. A couple on the opposite side of the room were leaning into each other, lost in their blissful smiles and subtle touches. Some patrons appeared to be in the same kind of mood as Josh, sitting alone, sorrow painted clearly on their faces. The jukebox in the corner was playing a familiar song – Wicked Game. It seemed appropriate for the climate of the bar.

Josh hummed along quietly to the music as he traced a finger through the condensation on his glass, staring down at the chipped varnish on the table. He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings, and he jumped when a deep voice rang out in front of him.

“Ain’t seen you around here before.”

Josh raised his head, fully intending to ask to be left alone, but things don’t always go as planned. He found himself staring at the handsome stranger, intrigued by the way he carried himself, obviously so confident, with a charming smile on his face. His short, reddish beard was neatly trimmed. He was dressed in a maroon, Western-styled button up, his sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, a pair of dark jeans (that fit him nicely if Josh was being honest), and a black cowboy hat perched atop his head. Josh couldn’t help but notice his tattoos, including the snake wrapped around his right arm, its head resting on the back of his hand. He decided to humor the stranger, oddly curious as to where it might lead.

“Yeah, I’m new to the scene.” Josh smiled sheepishly, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Well, I’d love to be the one to show you around.” His accent was thick; he was probably a Tennessee native or hailed from some other deep southern state. “May I?”

Josh nodded, inviting him to sit. The yellow light above the table didn’t offer much in the way of illumination, but the man’s blue eyes practically sparkled in it regardless.

“I’m curious though, why a sweet thing like you is sittin’ here all by your lonesome.”

Coming from anyone else, his words might have been cringe-inducing, but they had heat rising up in Josh’s cheeks. “Just had a long day. Needed to wind down, ya know.”

The man seemed to contemplate Josh’s words, turning them over in his head like he was trying to decide if it was a lie. “What are you actually runnin’ from, Blue?”

Josh was taken aback by the question and the impromptu nickname. “What makes you think I’m running?”

“Hm.” The man leaned forward, his elbows on the table. He maintained such intense eye contact that had Josh feeling squirmy but was unable to look away. “You’ve got a thunderstorm in you. I can see the lightnin’ in your eyes.”

Josh’s heart was racing, the undeniable fluttering in his stomach getting harder to ignore. How does one even respond to something like that? The man’s presence was powerful, and it seemed to make everything and everyone around them melt away. Just being in close proximity to him was enough for Josh to feel the buzz. He wondered what it would feel like to touch the mysterious man, and Josh definitely wanted more. But overall, he was mostly curious. Something in him knew this wasn’t just a basic interaction with a flirty, and likely tipsy, cowboy. “Who are you?” The raspy sound of his own whisper surprised him.

“Most folks call me Colt, but you can call me whatever you want, sweetness.”

He knew that must be a fake name, but it didn’t matter too much at this point. Josh introduced himself in turn, and mindlessly fiddled with the straw in his drink. He hadn’t come here with the intention of leaving with someone, but he was like an insect caught in a trap. Colt just had to flash a smile and Josh was putty in his hands. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Colt grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

~

This was a risk that Josh typically would not have taken. The pair ended up at his house; he knew better than to bring strangers there, but it was too late to change his mind now. He put on a record and offered his newfound companion a drink.

“Thank you, darlin’, but I think we both got something else in mind.”

Josh smiled at the implication, a mischievous glint in his eye. He allowed himself to be drawn in by the taller man, melting under his touch as their lips met. It wasn’t soft or romantic, but hungry and desperate. And it was just what Josh was craving. He practically clawed at Colt, removing pieces of clothing as he reached them. He whined when Colt pulled away and grabbed Josh’s hands to still them.

“Relax, there’s no rush. I promise I’ll take care of you, Baby Blue.”

A thought crossed Josh’s mind and he faltered. “Hey, uh… we should…” Colt waited patiently for the curly-headed man to find his words. He was nothing if not a gentleman. “I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

“Is that all?” Colt smiled sweetly and pulled him in for another kiss. “This can be whatever you need it to be. I’m all yours tonight, to use, to lie to. I don’t mind either way. I ain’t really the hurtin’ kind.”

Josh searched the other man’s eyes for something… he didn’t really know what he was looking for. Maybe a sign that this was a mistake, a warning to turn back while he still could. But he found none. And if this did turn out to be a bad idea, he would deal with the consequences later. Right now, though, he needed this. He didn’t speak as he grabbed Colt’s hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom, where they fell into a heated clash of lips and skin, fingernails scratching expanses of flesh as the rest of the world and its worries faded away.

~

When Josh awoke the next morning, he felt tranquil. He was warm and relaxed, like he’d just gotten the most restful sleep of his life. Memories of the night came flowing back and he realized he was alone, with no sign anyone had ever been there. If it wasn’t for the soreness in his body, a satisfying ache reminiscent of the evening’s activities, he would have thought it was all just a dream. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed to find Colt already gone, but he wasn’t surprised. He never really expected him to stick around, and Josh never asked him to.

Still, the sense of peace that seemed to surround him was euphoric. He was almost afraid it would slip away. It was like a high, the best he’s ever experienced, and it did stick with him long enough for things to get back to normal. Josh fell easily back into his routines, the glumness that had been following him nothing more than a wisp. His patience had returned, along with his determination and love for the music they had worked so hard to create. The band was able to find their footing again and pushed out some gorgeous new songs they were all proud of.

After a while, though, Josh got wild hair. He wanted another fix.

He found himself back at the place where it all started. He sat at the same table in the low light, a drink in hand. Except this time, he knew what he was looking for. He scanned the room for the familiar figure, hoping he’d catch those pretty blue eyes again.

He wasn’t sure how long he waited before he resigned, dismayed that his search yielded no results. But he was never one to give up that easily. On the third night of searching of waiting, the doorman stopped him on his way out.

“You’re lookin’ for him, ain’t ya? Colt.”

Josh stared at the man, unsure if he should answer the question. He didn’t want to seem like some creep, stalking a guy he’d spent one night with. He also didn’t want to out himself or spill anything about Colt to someone he didn’t know. One can never be too careful these days. He considered just walking away; he didn’t owe this guy an explanation, after all. But the doorman’s next words stopped Josh in his tracks.

“You won’t find him. No one that’s lookin’ ever does. He’s like a ghost.” He leaned closer to Josh to conceal the conversation from any eavesdroppers. “But don’t worry. He’ll find you. When you really need him, he’ll find you, Blue.”

Josh’s jaw dropped. “What? How did you-“ He was interrupted when a couple greeted the doorman upon entry. He said his ‘good evening’ to them before the bartender waved him over to help with something. He spared one more glance before walking off, leaving Josh standing there, mouth agape and so very confused.

///

@josh-iamyour-mama

TAGLIST

Let me know if you wanted to be added for all works.

[renjunniex]

Thank You, For Being You

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader Series

Venomous

Omega Part 1 | Omega Part 2 | Shape Shifted | Ice Pick | Abomination | Frenemy | Restraint | Raving | Party Guessed | Fury

Prompt: Apparently knowing what the creature is doesn’t really help when you don’t know how to stop it. Derek, however, seems to have a plan that’s going to cause a lot of trouble for everyone.

a/n: guyssss super excited for this because this chapter will be the start of WAYYY more Isaac and y/n!! anyways hope you guys like it! let me know what you think 🤗

*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧

You were searching through your locker looking for your textbook but your mind was also currently very distracted. The night of the game was a stressful one, even though you did end up with more information of what the scaly murderer was. A Kanima, you still remember the conversation from that cold night crystal clear.

“Is that even a language?” Stiles commented frustration dripping from his words.

“How are we supposed to figure out what this thing is,” questioned Scott as you scrolled through the contents of Gerard’s hard drive.

“It’s called the Kanima.”

You felt yourself sneer at the approaching pair, you three faced the Alpha and Beta. You crossed your arms like it was some kind of armor against them. “You knew the whole time,” Stiles concluded.

“No. Only when it was confused by its own reflection.”

“It doesn’t know what it is,” you said letting your arms dropped to your side eventually. Derek gave a sharp and small nod, “Or who.”

“What else do you know?” Stiles asked.

“Just stories. Rumors.”

“But it’s like us?”

“It’s a shapeshifter, yes. But it’s not right. It’s like a…” he hesitated. You shuffled, the whole discussion making you uncomfortable. You mumbled slightly as you fixed your stance, “An abomination.” Derek looked at you before nodding once more. He gave the signal and Erica and him began to leave but Scott stopped them, calling Derek’s name. “We need to work together on this. Maybe even tell the Argents.”

“You trust them?”

“Nobody trusts anyone,” you felt your voice rip out of your throat before you could even think, “That’s the problem.”

“While we’re here arguing about who’s on what side, there’s something scarier, stronger and faster than any of us, and it’s killing people!” You could here the clear stress coming from Scott as he lectured Derek. “And we still don’t even know anything about it!” Scott’s point made Derek’s expression harden.

“I know one thing. When I find it, I’m gonna kill it.”

SLAM!

Your whole body jumped as your locker was slammed shut. Behind the now closed locker door was Stiles, panting, he grabbed your wrist before starting to rush you towards the classroom. Once you reached the door, he let go of your wrist and crashed into his seat leaning over Scott's shoulder.

"Dude, I just talked to my dad, who just talked to Jackson, and I've got really terrible, horrible, very, very bad news."

Scott gestured ahead of him, "I think I already know."

Isaac.

You, on the other hand, didn't respond. You just stared at the now filled seat. In your now slightly unfocused vision, you could see your two best friends turned towards you. They were waiting on your reaction.

Letting your eyes carry themselves over to the boys, you gave an awkward smile before slowly making your way to your usual seat, right behind the curly haired werewolf. The teacher's voice could be heard as class began but your focus was only on the leather jacket wearing boy in front of you. You could practically feel the arrogance radiating off of him. It made your blood boil. You didn't understand him anymore. One minute he was the shy and nervous boy you had always known and then the next he was as cocky, if not more so, than the current Erica. It made you wonder if everything he has said to you since his transformation has been an act. Could you trust anything he said anymore?

You felt two pairs of hands on your shoulders, waking you from your frenzied thoughts. You hadn't even realized the bell ringing or the students leaving. You had daydreamed the whole period. Glancing to meet Scott's eyes before shifting to Stiles for a moment, you could see the sympathetic looks they were giving you.

"Don't look at me like that, please," you uttered quietly as if your voice would shatter the world if you spoke too loudly. You finally rose from your seat, gathering your things before motioning to the door. The boys took their designated spots on either side of you before Stiles began speaking.

"Alright, I only found one thing online called the Kanima. It's a were-jaguar from South America that goes after murderers."

Scott's eyes widened slightly, "That thing was not a jaguar."

"Yeah and I'm not exactly a murderer," Stiles pointed out. You felt yourself smile at the two boys as you witnessed the exchange.

"Yeah, but you did see it kill somebody, which is probably why it tried to kill you. And it's still trying to kill you, and it probably won't stop until you're dead," Scott concluded walking away as Stiles stopped in his tracks.

A cackle left your mouth as Stiles called out to the werewolf boy now in the distance, "You know, sometimes I really begin to question this 'friendship'." He air quoted as your laugh continued to echo through the halls. Stiles scoffed at you before placing his hand on your back and pushing you forward.

Little did you know, your laughing and Stiles had distracted you enough that you didn't notice the blue eyed werewolf standing nearby staring at you, longingly.

You three had finally made it to Coach's class, taking your seats, you guys began setting up for the period. Sadly for you, you had gotten stuck behind Stiles meaning next to you sat... Jackson. Who, unfortunately for you, was here today. He rushed in sitting in his seat.

"Hey, testicle left and right." You saw the boys' forms physically change from annoyance at the rich boy's voice.

"What the hell is a Kanima?"

That question made all three of you jump and look at Jackson. Then a slam could be heard, followed by Coach's voice.

"Okay, listen up. A quick warning before we begin our review. Some of you, like McCall, might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult... I'm not even sure I could pass it." He took a breath before continuing, however, you weren't listening and neither were your friends as you three turned back to Jackson.

"Paralyzed, from the neck down. Do you have any idea what that feels like," Jackson snarled his head whipping back and forth between you three.

"I'm familiar with the sensation," Stiles commented unamused. You snorted earning yourself a glare from Jackson.

"Wait..." Scott paused, "Why would Derek test you? Why would he think that it's you?"

"How should I know?"

"Do they think it's Lydia?" Stiles urged. Jackson shrugged, "I don't know, all I heard was her name and something about chemistry."

"JACKSON!" Coach screamed, catching your attention. "Do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?"

"Umm... Just an undying admiration for my... My coach."

"That's really kind of you," Coach said sarcastically. Jackson held a high and mighty look on his face but Coach ruined it before he could bask in his made up glory.

"Now, SHUT UP! SHUT IT! Anybody else?"

Once Coach had turned back towards the board, Scott's hands were grabbing Stiles' collar and your sleeve tugging you both to him.

"How do we know that it's not her?"

"We don't," you said. Stiles gave you a look before speaking, "Because I looked into the eyes of thing, okay? And what I saw was pure evil. And when I look into Lydia's eyes, I only see fifty percent evil."

You scoffed, "Oh yeah, cause that's helpful."

"Alright, maybe sixty. You know, but no more than forty on a good day."

"Stiles, that's not a very good argument," Scott replied.

"I'm aware of that, but I swear it's not her. It can't be, alright? Lydia's fine."

"On another note, please never become a lawyer," you joked earning a light smack on the head from Stiles.

You three were interrupted by Coach calling the red haired girl's name. If by fine he had meant completely out of her mind, then Stiles would be right. She had tears running down her face and she was gasping as if she just awoke from a nightmare.

"Okay then, anybody else want to try answering? This time in English?" The call reply in laughter.

Behind Lydia, on the chalk board, were letters she had written. You immediately recognized them to just be backwards, when flipped they spelt out 'SOMEONEHELPME'. Apparently you were the only one to see that.

"What is that, Greek?"

"No, actually, I think it is English." Stiles showed a photo of the words and then flipped them.

"You needed your phone to read that?"

~

"Derek is not gonna kill her without proof," stated Scott as you three walked into chemistry. "Alright, so he tests her like he did with Jackson, right? But when and where?"

You saw Erica and Isaac walked into class right then, their eyes immediately shooting over to you three. Your arms shot out, the backs of your hands tapping their abdomens. They both looked at you, turning in the direction of where you gestured. Scott panicked, "I think here and now."

You saw the different expressions on their faces Erica look determined and confident, ready for a showdown. Even though Isaac gave you an unsure look, he was the one to start the duo's advancing. You felt your body throw itself forward as you rushed to beat them to the seat, which you did, you gave them both a snark before giving Lydia the best smile you could without showing how nervous you were.

A second later both Stiles and Scott joined you, Scott on your side and Stiles on Lydia's. You gave them panicked eyes and all you did was receive two shrugs. Lydia looked startled, glancing at you with questioning eyes and when you gave her no answer she rolled them before turning her attention to her textbook.

Allison walked in not a moment too later, definitely surprised to see her usual spot taken by you. She looked to Scott for answers as she sat at the other table across. Scott nudged his head backwards and she got the messege.

"Einstein once said, 'Two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.'" Mr. Harrison took a pause patting Stiles' shoulder, "I myself have encountered infinite stupidity." He walked to the front of the class as he continued his lecture, "So to combat the plague of ignorance in my class, you're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments. Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one. Or in Mr. Stilinski's case, less than one." You could practically feel Stiles' annoyance from the man's words.

"Erica, you take the first station," you heard the rustle as almost everyone raised their hands, clearly trying to volunteer themselves, "You'll start with..." Harrison had stopped due to the show of hands, you glanced around the room seeing everyone but you, Allison, Lydia, Stiles, Scott, and Isaac raising their hands.

"I didn't ask for volunteers. Put your hormonal little hands down." His eyes met your table, "Start with Mr. McCall. Alright, next two." You felt Scott tense beside you as students started to shuffle when being called, you placed your hand on his arm trying to offer comfort.

"Ms. (L/N), you're with Mr. Lahey."

Your head shot up, eyes wide, you sucked in a breath. You gave both Stiles and Scott worried looks before slowly getting up and moving to the seat that was previously occupied by the blonde werewolf. You sat with a huff and Isaac's head tilted towards you.

"Hello there, beautiful, long time no see."

"Don't," you whispered. He had his head leaning on his elbow, he slid his elbow down the table his face now in your eye line, "Oh come on, you haven't missed me?"

"Stop acting like this is some kind of sick game," you said harshly, your voice low so no one could hear you. He smirked before straightening his posture to start working. He sat there quietly measuring with a smug look on his face. You finally turned to him when you couldn't handle the silence anymore.

"Whatever your plan is, please, just leave her alone," you pleaded. He sat down the beakers before facing you, he brushed a hair out of your eye, "Do you even like her, why do you care?" You scoffed, the audacity, who cares what you thought of the girl. Killing someone was wrong, why couldn't he see that?

"Just because I'm not close to her doesn't mean I can just toss her life away. She doesn't deserve that," you took a pause and finally made eye contact with him. His face softened ever so slightly, you could've convinced yourself that you had imagined it. But you hadn't, he almost looked like his old self. "Just please, stop, you don't have to do this," you spoke softly.

"Sorry, but I have to do this, Derek's orders."

Ding!

"Switch!"

You got up quickly, when you saw Scott sit with Lydia you headed to a station that was empty. You took a deep inhale and shook your hands, you hadn't noticed until now, you were shaking.

The screech of the seat sounded next to you meaning someone was now accompanying you at the station. You looked to your side only to feel a sense of dread, it was Erica. She was definitely the more aggressive of the two betas... at least when it came to you that is.

Trying to mind your business you just grabbed the measuring tubes and began to mix what you were being told. "You know, I don't see what he sees in you."

"Excuse me?"

"Isaac, I don't understand what he sees in you. To be honest, you seem quite boring."

You gave her a sickly sweet smile, "Well, I'm deeply sorry to disappoint but I couldn't care less of what you think of me." She shrugged, "Just saying considering how many hoops Derek has to jump through to keep him in line simply because of you, I figured there would be something interesting there." You raised an eyebrow at her words, what the actual hell was she talking about?

"I don't know what you mean."

"What I mean is that anytime you're in his eyesight he gets all mushy and Derek is concerned on his loyalty, so if I have to create some distance between you two myself I will." At this point you had one hand gripping the desk so hard to keep yourself under control. You whipped your head to finally face her.

"And what the hell is that supposed to insinuate?"

"I'm just saying, maybe the event of a hurt friend would take your mind off of him for a while."

You lightly slammed your palms on the table, "You lay one finger on any of my friends and I swear to everything, I will break every bone in your body and grind them into dust." You felt her hand grab your arm, her claws digging into your skin, her eyes glowing. You winced and you felt yourself get slightly fuzzy. You were losing what little control you had. You could feel the familiar heat from your eyes, there was no doubt they were glowing as well. Without thinking you grabbed her clawed arm with your free hand, you could feel heat radiating from your palm. She instantly let out a pained groaned, letting go as the bell dinged once more.

You got up, looking at your now slightly bleeding wound on your forearm. You looked for a seat only to see that Isaac was already sitting with Lydia. Frantically, you looked for Stiles and Scott only to find them sitting together. They gave you panicked looks and you returned it as you sat at another table.

Your eyes did nothing but burn holes into Lydia's and Isaac's backs as you watched him interact with her. He didn't give any noticable signs that he has trying to do anything to her, yet that is.

"Time. If you've catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal." You indeed were looking at a crystal, you turned back to the boys only to see them looking at their glob and then Scott casted his attention to the red head and beta across from you. You joined him in leading your eyesight over to the pair to see Isaac picking up the crystal, observing it, and then offering it to Lydia.

"Now for the part of that last experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy, you can eat it."

Lydia took the crystal from him and your eyes widened in realization when you could faintly see the clear viscos liquid on it. Glancing at your crystal still in the beaker you confirmed what you were thinking. The kanima's toxic, they had put it on the crystal.

"LYDIA!"

You jumped at the booming sound of Scott's voice and you weren't the only one. Lydia and the rest of the class projected their attention onto the boy, who was quickly embarrassed and dismissed Lydia's question before sitting back down. There was nothing you could do. All you did was sit back and watch as she ate the crystal. You waited for the sound of her dropping to the floor due to paralysis but...

It never came.

~

You led the dark haired trio into Coach's office, locking the door behind you with the keys Coach gave you at the beginning of the year. You four were currently radiating every ounce of stress possible.

"Derek's outside waiting for Lydia," Scott said as you turned to face the group.

Allison gave Scott a worried look, "Waiting to kill her?"

"Well he's sure not waiting to give her a hug," you commented scratching your forehead out of frustration, you looked at Allison for a second, "Sorry, just frustrated." She gave you a nod of reassurance before looking to Scott again for answers.

"If he thinks she's the Kanima, then yes, especially after what happened at the pool."

"It's not her," Stiles affirmed.

You groaned slightly, "Stiles, come on."

"She didn't pass the test, man. Nothing happened," Scott spoke softly but it did nothing to convince Stiles, "No, it can't be her."

"It doesn't matter, because Derek thinks it's her," Allison finally gave in with a sigh. You scoffed, "Yeah and with Derek's severe lack in brain power, that's all he needs to justify his order to kill." Allison gestured to you in agreement. "Either we can convince him that he's wrong, or we've got to figure out a way to protect her."

"I really don't think he's gonna do anything here, not at school."

The dark hair girl shot back instantly, "What about after school?"

There was a moment of silence between all for of you as you all exchanged looks. "What if we can prove that Derek's wrong," Allison asked.

"By three o'clock?" Stiles and Allison started began a back and forth.

"There could be something in the bestiary."

"OH! You mean the nine hundred page book written in archaic Latin that nothing of us can read? Good luck with that."

"Actually, I think I might know someone who can translate it," she finished.

Scott stuttered slightly, "Uh, I can talk to Derek, maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove that it's not her."

"In the mean time, we could get Lydia to our house, neutral ground. It would be safer, plus I could maybe buy us some time to get her there." You pulled out the dusty book that's been stuffed in your bag since you've gotten it. "I've been practicing," you finished.

Scott took a second to look at you three before letting out a sigh, "But if anything happens, you guys let me handle it, okay?"

"What does that mean," Allison stared at the werewolf.

"I mean you guys can't heal like I do. I just don't want you getting hurt." Allison deadpanned before pulling her crossbow out of her bag

"I can protect myself," Allison rebutted. You and Stiles let them have their moment as you placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder. You saw him fiddle with the crossbow that Allison sat down but before you could stop him, an arrow shot out and towards Scott. Luckily he had caught it in time.

"Ah, sorry. Sensitive trigger on that." You smacked his head before dragging him out of the room, where you guys tried to go about the rest of your day.

~

Stiles had some how gotten Lydia to agree to a study group, which led you to being dragged through the library with them two. She shrugged him off before heading off in front of him. Allison caught up with you eventually and then you felt another presence. You looked over your shoulder to see Jackson following you as well. You didn't even bother to question it, the uptight boy always had his reasons for his actions and you've never been able to make sense of them.

"If we're doing a study group, why don't we just stay in the library?"

"Because we're meeting up with someone else," Stiles gave her shoulder a light pat and Lydia made another argument, "Well, why don't they just meet us in the library?"

"Oh, that would've been a great idea. Too late."

"Okay, hold on-," Jackson squeezed passed you, grabbing Lydia's arm and jerking her forward, "Lydia, shut up and walk." For the first time since knowing the boy, you didn't see a reason to make a snarky comment.

"Oh, hey you guys? I forgot something back there. Go on ahead, I'll meet you guys there," you called to the group now a few feet ahead of you. Giving Stiles and Allison a pointed look, they nodded back understanding what you were planning to do. Buy them some time to get Lydia out of here.

You backtracked towards the library when you heard your name being called, "Hey, (L/N)!" You looked in the direction of the call, getting met with a flash in your eyes, raising your hands to cover the light from your face. When the flash cleared you were met with the face of Matt, a player on the team, sitting with Danny. "Thanks," he said. How odd. You gave him a look of acknowledgement, then you heard the door to the library open. You quickly ducked into one of the aisles, out of eye line.

"Where is she?" You dipped your head slightly out seeing Isaac, his hand gripping Matt's shirt with Erica just behind him. You softly reached over to the next aisle through the shelf, pushing the books on the floor to create noise. You made a dash for the side door leading into the hallway, not even a second later footsteps could be heard following you. You turned a couple corners making sure to not be fully seen before slipping into an open and empty classroom. You had maybe a couple of seconds to grab your book and flip to the newly marked page. Your eyes glided down the page straight to what you were looking for... a barrier spell. It wouldn't be very strong since this is without practice, but it was gonna have to work.

You followed the instructions closing your eyes, letting yourself connect to the energy around you like Deaton had taught you. Their footsteps kept getting clearer and clearer. When you were sure they were in reach your eyes snapped open and with a flick of your hand into the air you saw a wall of iridescent energy fly up. You heard noises of confusion as you walked out of the classroom to meet the duo's faces.

"Pretty neat, huh?"

"Let us go, (Y/N)." Isaac gave you a stern look while Erica just continued to glare. You put your finger on your chin in pretend thought, you straightened your posture before speaking, "No."

Erica shoved past Isaac, "You think your little party trick is going to save your friends from us? Derek and Boyd will just take care of them. And what do you expect to happen when you can't keep this up anymore, huh?"

You took a couple slow steps until the barrier was the only thing between you two, "Don't worry about them, Scott's taking care of it. As for you two, I'm not worried. This isn't to hold you forever, just long enough to make sure they can get her out of here. And even if I had to stay here to keep it up, I don't care what happens to me as long as they're safe." Both betas faltered at that, that surely wasn't the response they were expecting.

"By the way, don't forget," you raised your injured arm, "I still owe you one, for this." In your peripheral you could see Isaac's glance was no longer on you but on Erica. Isaac raised his hand pointing at you, "You did that?" The blond werewolf didn't answer, just kept her eyes on you.

You shook your head, "Doesn't matter, anyways, I have to get going. See you guys around." You made your way out the side doors nearby, the barrier wouldn't last long with you not there to focus on it so you needed to go, now.

Behind you as you rushed out the doors, could be heard the sound of two betas arguing.

~

When you had finally made it home, you went through the back door, locking it. You headed to the front entrance making yourself be known, "Hey, I'm here. They're definitely right behind me though."

Allison breathed a sigh of relief as Stiles gave you a secure hug, "I'm glad you're alright." You gave her a weak smile.

"Where's Lydia?"

"Upstairs with Jackson," Allison answered. You rubbed your hands together and nodded. Stiles looked at you both, "Okay, what's the plan?"

"I could maybe focus a barrier on the house, I was able to do it back in the hallway. It won't be as strong if it works but it'll at least give us some protection until Scott gets here." They gave you a look of relief and nodded.

"Okay, but don't try it until they get here, you need to preserve your energy and we still don't know how your abilities really work yet," Allison set a hand on your shoulder and you agreed.

Soon enough, night fell, Derek's pack had arrive and Scott was no where to be seen. You three were looking at the window staring back at them. They all looked so joyous like they had already won. Allison had already called Scott letting him know he need to get here.

"What are you doing?" Stiles' questioned cause you to turn to the dark haired girl who looked distress.

"I think.. I think I have to call my dad."

"But if you do that.." you started, "If he finds you here, you and Scott," Stiles trailed.

"I know. But what are we supposed to do?"

"I think now is a good time to try that barrier." While the other two kept on their conversation, you stood at the door placing your hand on it, "I'm just gonna try and focus on both doors." You closed your eyes just like before but this time you pictured that same iridescent glow wrapping around the front and back door. Once you were sure you had done it, you just tried to focus on securing it keeping your eyes closed.

"Just shoot one of them."

"Are you serious?"

"We told Scott we could protect ourselves, so let's do it. Or least give it a shot, right?"

"Okay."

"Look, they don't think we're gonna fight, so if one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off. So just shoot one of them."

"Which one?"

"Derek, yeah shoot him, preferably in the head."

"If Scott was able to catch an arrow, Derek definitely can."

"Okay, just shoot one of the other three then."

"You mean two."

"No, I mean three... Where the hell is Isaac?"

Without another word, your eyes had snapped open, "What do you mean, where's Isaac?" Your focus had been completely shattered and so had the barriers. You looked out the window indeed only seeing three werewolves and the curly haired one missing. In your lost of focus you hadn't even heard said werewolf coming up behind you three.

He grabbed Allison by her shirt, throwing her aside, doing the same to Stiles as well. "Isaac, what the hell are you doing?" He ignored you, just like at the ice rink. His focus completely on Stiles, but not for long as you jumped on the boy's back. Considering you only knew a few defensive spells, you in combat was pretty much useless. The werewolf did, however, struggle to get your grip loosened from around him. You both struggled, he lost his balanced and had backed into a wall ultimately slamming you into it but you didn't let go.

In your struggle you hadn't even noticed the dark haired girl running upstairs nor the blond werewolf following her. "Let go, (Y/N)!" This time, it was your turn to ignore him, too focused on keeping your grip firm. Soon you felt the form being thrown out from under you and a grip setting itself around you. Regaining your balance you looked to your side, it was Scott. You smiled, "You made it."

You glanced at the floor to see a tall werewolf passed out on the floor, Allison came down not a moment later informing you guys of Erica's state. Scott went to collect her as you dragged an unconscious Isaac to the front door. When Scott came back with the girl, he tossed both of the betas out the front door, standing on the front porch. You walked out and joined him on his right, Allison joining you on yours and Stiles on hers.

"I think I'm finally getting why you keep refusing me, Scott. You're not an Omega. You're already an Alpha of your own pack. But you know you can't beat me," Derek held a smirk on his face.

"We can hold you off until the cops get here," you nodded in agreement. Sirens could be heard closing in, Derek's smile was quickly wiped off.

You started to hear hissing and you weren't the only one who heard it, Derek had look up at the roof. The four of you on the porch came out into the yard to see the Kanima crawling along the top of ledge. Scott kept Allison close while you and Stiles grabbed at each others arms.

"Get them out of here," Derek ordered Boyd.

Not a second later, more footsteps could be heard coming from the front door. Lydia stomping through, "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"

"It's not Lydia," you whispered.

*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧

"It's Jackson."

a/n: another chapter doneeeee. honestly you guys this is probably my favorite episode of the whole season so i definitely had a lot of fun writing this. i hope you guys enjoyed and let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!!

taglist: @somiaw @vvicaddiction @mushroomelephant