#(hopefully with less murder though) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Woof woof grrrrrr

CW for dub con, stay safe everyone <3

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au

3K notes · View notes

bucksangel · 21 days

Text

you taste like suburbia

pairing: mafia!stucky x reader (poly), john walker x reader but not for long

word count: 6.4k

summary: your lousy boyfriend John Walker owes quite a bit of money to some pretty shady people. And since he doesn’t have the means to pay, he’s brought you along to a negotiation to meet them - and hopefully entice them into accepting a different form of payment.

warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con kind of, a tiny bit of stalking/dark behavior (it’s only hinted at), voyeurism i guess?, vaginal fingering, oral (f & m receiving), threesome, poly relationship, petnames (princess, kitten, beautiful), daddy kink, sir kink, unprotected p in v, a little bit of misogyny (not from stucky), not john walker friendly, mentioned verbal abuse, mention of murder (you have to squint and turn your head 90 degrees)

a/n: this is based off this post and @crazyunsexycool ‘s very amazing comments (title is from ‘suburbia’ by devon again)

tip jar | masterlist

“It’s simple, really.” The men across from you have been staring you down this whole time, eyes barely leaving your body and that’s only to occasionally glance at the man sitting next to you. And though they’re looking at you, you know their words aren’t directed your way. No. It’s for John.

John Walker; your shitty boyfriend who, apparently, has got himself into a lot of trouble with some pretty shady people. You don’t know much, you just know that he has a debt to pay and he doesn’t have the funds.

And you’re not stupid, you know how this will go. Your relationship with John started good, great in fact, but then he fell back into his old gambling ways a few months in. You wanted to leave, to kick him to the curb the moment he asked you for money to cover some bills. But you were too kind-hearted for your own good and felt the need to help him just because you loved him. But the deeper into trouble he’s gotten the less he’s actually cared about you, too focused on getting his debts paid off so he doesn’t get a bullet in his head.

Thus, you’re here. Forced to wear that dark red, wrap-around dress that shows just enough to be desired in the hopes that will entice the men across from you into accepting a different form of payment. Fifteen minutes into the ‘meeting’ you can already tell that they’re going to accept. And you don’t really know what to do in this situation, you know you don’t really have a say in how this plays out, but some part of you doesn’t really mind. Part of you is glad you’ll finally be free from John’s bullshit.

It just helps that the men your boyfriend owes money to are extremely attractive. Both men don dark black suits, white button-ups, and sleek black ties. And the brunette - Bucky, maybe? - smirks when he catches your eye after having been staring at his hand grasping a cigarette for a few moments before glancing up at his face. With a wink, he turns his head towards his partner - Steve, if you remember correctly.

“You owe us quite a bit of money, but you already knew that. We also know that you don’t have the means to pay us.”

From beside you, you can feel John shaking in his seat. With just a glance in his direction, you can see the beads of sweat forming around his hairline at Steve’s commanding tone.

“We’re assuming that’s why you brought her, isn’t it?” With that question, both men look back at you, the hunger in their eyes is prominent. And part of you wants to cower in your chair, to wrap your arms around your body and hide from their intense gazes. But a bigger part of you likes it, craves being desired. Lord knows John hasn’t looked at you like that in a long while.

“Um,” John stops himself, seems to not know what exactly to say. But then Bucky raises one of his eyebrows and John is quick to continue. “Y-Yes, sirs.”

Steve hums, bringing up his glass to take a long sip of his liquor of choice. Bucky takes a short drag of his cigarette before speaking up.

“And if we don’t accept the arrangement?”

John starts really vibrating out of his seat now, both of his legs bouncing furiously. One of his hands rubs over the back of his other, and he gulps loudly.

“I-I don’t… Please. I don’t have the money right now. And, she’s good in bed. She’ll listen to whatever you say, so she’ll please you guys whenever you need, she can even cook and clean so she can be a maid for you too.”

His words make you want to vomit, talking about you like you’re nothing more than a whore, a piece of meat to be passed around and commanded. Your eyes narrow, glaring over at your asshole boyfriend as you begin to pick at your fingernails with a mixture of anxiety and anger.

Steve surprises you by slamming his glass down onto the dark oak desk in front of him, some of the liquid inside spilling out.

“And what makes you think you can talk about a woman like that?” His voice is booming, and the tension in the air is palpable. It’s hard to hide the smile that wants to spread across your face, but you manage to not show your smugness when John sits up straight and begins sputtering out an apology.

“Enough,” Bucky says, taking another long drag and then putting out the cigarette. As he exhales out the smoke, he makes sure to blow it in your boyfriend’s direction, and you have to look down at your lap to prevent the men from seeing your smirk at the show of dominance.

With a glance at his partner, they seem to have a silent conversation before Steve nods, looking back at John while Bucky looks at you.

“We’ll accept. If nothing else then to get her away from you.”

Even with the passive-aggressive comment, you can see the way John’s body visibly relaxes, and can hear the sigh of relief that passes through his lips.

You on the other hand don’t quite know what to do. Yeah, you’re glad you’ve found a way out of this toxic relationship, but you’re also very aware that this major adjustment in your life was made without your consent or input. This thought immediately makes all the satisfaction drain from your body, and you keep your gaze averted so the men across from you can’t see the underlying fear growing in your eyes.

Because you don’t know these men. You’ve never even heard of them until now. All you know is that anyone connected to the dark underworld that is the mafia couldn’t possibly be a good person. For a moment, you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realize all of the men are staring at you.

“Wh-What?” Your throat is a little dry due to not having spoken in a while, and you try your hardest not to let your voice waver.

“Are you okay with this?” Steve asks with an uncharacteristically soft smile and calm voice. He’s asking you how you feel about this? Why? Shouldn’t this be the end, the part where your boyfriend leaves and you uproot your life to live as payment for his debts?

Apparently not.

“Why are you asking me?” Confusion is laden in your tone, your eyebrows furrowing and your fingers picking at your nails even harsher.

“Because, beautiful,” Bucky starts, waving to a red-headed woman who suddenly appears with water for you. “We don’t want you thinking this is purely transactional. You’re not property, you’re a grown woman and you deserve to have a say in your life. If you don’t want to come with us, that’s okay. We’ll extend our contract with your dear boyfriend.”

Steve speaks up next.

“But if you do want to come with us, we’ll show you how real men treat ladies.” His eyes grow hungry for half a second, then return to that unnerving adoring gaze.

Everything grows silent for a moment, everyone awaiting your answer. As you look over at John, his face is contorted in fear of what they’ll do if you deny them, and anger - silently demanding that you say yes. And, looking over at him, you finally realize he’s never been who you thought he was. Even when he was being an asshole, when he would steal from you, when he would yell and scream and verbally abuse you because he lost even more money, you were so blinded by trying to help him that you couldn’t accept that you were being used.

Now, you know. You know that even if you don’t know these men, the fact that they’re even asking for your opinion says more than anything John could ever do. With one final look at him, you sigh, looking Steve in the eyes.

“I’ll go with you.”

Not only does John visibly relax, but you can see some of the tension leave Bucky and Steve’s bodies, almost like they were hoping that you would say yes.

“It’s settled then.” Steve’s smile turns into a sly smirk, and he momentarily shifts his gaze to John. “Your debt has been paid.”

John tries thanking him, tries to thank the men for sparing his life, but Bucky cuts him off by clearing his throat.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with that comment, though.”

With that, Steve nods at the redhead who comes to stand behind John. In one swift movement, she puts one hand on his shoulder and one hand grabs the inside of his elbow, and she twists. The sounds of his bones cracking are loud, but his screams are louder, his cries of pain reverberating throughout the office. And, as much as you want to feel bad for him, you can’t find it in you to do so. The last two years have been hell for you, and seeing him in pain feels a little like payback for all the pain he caused you. You simply sit there and stare as the woman grabs both of his shoulders and hauls him up, ignoring his cries while dragging him to the door.

The woman follows him out, leaving just you and the two men. For a moment, neither of you speaks, almost like you’re all waiting for the other person to say something.

“So, um. What happens now?” You look at Bucky as he stands and walks around the desk, holding his hand out and encouraging you to grab it. Once you do, you let him help you stand and move you so you’re nearly pressed against his body, a heavy, black metal hand settling on your waist as he brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

“Now we take you home,” Bucky says softly, staring deep into your eyes and tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“We’ll have our associates pick up your things,” Steve says, suddenly standing so close behind you that you can feel the heat from his body. His large hands settle on your shoulders, gently massaging your muscles and allowing any remaining tension in your body to slip away.

“And you won’t have to worry about anything for the rest of your life.” Bucky presses his body against yours further, holding your gaze for a long while before he leans down to place a delicate kiss on your cheekbone, very close to your ear. “Your only concern will be taking care of us, and letting us take care of you.”

In order to not moan you have to clear your throat, focusing all of your attention on not melting into a puddle at their feet. Steve leans down to place a kiss on your other cheek, sighing softly as though he’s been waiting for this. You hesitantly place one hand on Bucky’s arm and one on Steve’s hand, and he immediately threads your fingers together.

“Home?” Bucky asks, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“Home,” You say without a second thought, already liking the idea of being with them, being theirs.

____________

You all get back to their mansion, because of course they live in a mansion, about an hour later. It’s in a woodsy and remote area of upstate New York with no neighbors for a good two miles, and upon driving through the gates and down the long driveway your eyes go wide, everything is just so big. The fountain in the front yard stands almost as tall as the three-story house, several expensive-looking cars are parked off to the left near what you assume is the garage, and you’re pretty sure you can spot a greenhouse in the backyard.

As soon as the car is stopped two men appear on either side of it, opening the doors for Steve and Bucky and letting them step out. A woman - the same redhead from earlier - comes up to your door and opens it, reaching out her hand and guiding you out.

“I’m Natasha,” She says with a welcoming smile on her face. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“What do you mean ‘finally’?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, jumping slightly when an arm wraps around your waist.

“It’s nothing, beautiful.” When you look up at Bucky, you see him giving Natasha a look that you can tell is a silent demand to stop talking. Then, he turns to you, pulling you close to his side. “Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

Despite a spark of uneasiness popping up, you walk with him, Steve appearing by your other side and taking your hand in his and once again threading your fingers together. He gives you a warm smile, squeezing your hand. “We’ll give you a tour later, for now, we just want you to relax.”

As you walk through the entrance, your eyes open even wider than before. Not only is the foyer huge, but the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling illuminates the area beautifully and your heels make clicking noises on the pristine tile floor. You let your eyes wander as you walk up the grand staircase, admiring the artwork on the walls while you’re led through a large living area and down a hallway to a door.

And when they open it, dear lord you just want to scream. It’s bigger than the one-bedroom apartment that you shared with John. There’s a huge canopy bed off to the left, a massive TV mounted on the opposite wall, and a reading nook against the floor-to-ceiling window with a long bookshelf on the wall next to it - ending a few feet from the bed. There’s plants hanging from the ceiling and potted ones in each corner of the room, and an open door off to the right gives you a peak at what must be the bathroom but resembles more of a spa.

It’s absolutely gorgeous and it makes you feel at home.

“How do you like it?” Steve asks, both men tugging and leading you further into the room when they notice you’ve frozen while taking everything in.

“I love it,” You say quickly, smiling at them as you walk towards the bed so you can run your fingers along the silk bed sheets. “It’s beautiful.”

“Good.” Bucky appears behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin on your shoulder. “You deserve beautiful things.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, warmth filling your body. These men are already showing you more affection than John had during your entire relationship, and it simultaneously hurts your heart that you stayed with an ungrateful and uncaring man for so long while also making you happy that you’ve fallen into the laps of men with high standards of how to treat a woman.

“We’ll let you rest up, now.” Steve comes up to you and works his arm between your back and Bucky’s body so he can hold your waist. He leans down and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, bringing up his other hand to cradle your head so he can really breathe in your scent.

“Wait.”

Immediately Bucky and Steve pull away, and when you turn around and look up at them you can see the concern written on their face.

“This is my room?”

Bucky nods, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. Is it okay? We can redecorate if you want, just tell us what you like and we’ll do it.”

You shake your head, placing one hand on Bucky’s chest and the other on Steve’s.

“N-no. No, I love it. I just thought…” You trail off, biting your lip. You’re not too sure how to phrase your thoughts, but you try your hardest when the men continue to stare at you. “I guess I just thought you would want me to sleep in your room.”

Bucky sighs and pulls you close, placing one hand on the back of your head while Steve saddles up beside him to grasp your hip.

“While we would absolutely love having you in our bed,” Bucky stops to swipe his tongue along his bottom lip and you have to fight the urge to lean up on your toes to bite it. “We’re not going to force you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“We know this is a big adjustment,” Steve says, smiling down at you when you look at him. “So we don’t want to make you do something that would make you uncomfortable.”

The men go silent, as do you, allowing you to process their words. They’re right, of course. This is all so new for you, and even though you’re more than ready - you’ve been deprived of physical contact and a good orgasm for a while - you know it wouldn’t be a good decision to jump into a relationship like this so soon after leaving your ex.

Fuck good decisions.

“What if…” You trail off, biting your lip nervously. Deciding to be bold, you trail the hand on Bucky’s chest up until you can cup his cheek, smiling when he turns his head and kisses your palm.

“What if I do want to?” You glance over at Steve, batting your eyelashes and fighting the shiver that wants to run through your body when he groans, low and utterly sexy.

“And what exactly is it that you want?” Bucky asks, his voice dropping while moving his free hand to your back, slowly inching down until he can rest it on your ass, but not squeezing.

“I -“ Suddenly a whine is forced out of your mouth when Steve moves your hair and leans down so he can kiss and nibble at your neck. “Steve!”

Then, Bucky dips down while pulling your head closer to his so he can press a searing kiss on your lips, swallowing your moan as he squeezes and kneads your ass.

“Tell us what you want, kitten,” Steve murmurs, biting and sucking a dark bruise on your neck and laughing when you pull away from Bucky’s lips with a huff.

“I - fuck.” Your whining is bordering on desperation. The lack of physical and sexual contact for the last few months has finally caught up to you, and you’re about to cry with how needy you feel. “I want you to fuck me.”

Both men curse, Steve nodding but not removing his mouth from the column of your throat. And maybe if your head wasn’t already fogged over with desire you’d have heard Bucky’s muttered “finally.” As it is though, you don’t pay attention to anything other than their hands caressing and groping your body, the men working in tandem to strip you of your dress and lay you flat on your back in the middle of the bed.

Both men stand at the end of the bed, staring at you with dark lust in their eyes as Bucky palms his crotch. They stare for so long that you start to get self-conscious, wondering what they’re thinking. It was always quick with John, he never really focused on your pleasure but rather worried about getting himself off and asking with an infuriatingly smug grin if it was good. It never was, but you never told him that, you hate confrontation. So it’s a little unnerving to have sex be drawn out, to be the center of attention - and the attention coming from the two hottest men on the planet makes you squirm uncomfortably. You’re about to cover yourself with your arms when Bucky kneels on the bed and grabs one of your wrists, Steve appearing next to you so he can grab your other one.

“Don’t,” Bucky says hoarsely, a determined look in his eyes. “Don’t hide from us, kitten.”

An involuntary moan forces its way up your throat and out of your mouth, and you find yourself agreeing with a quick nod. “I-I’m sorry,” You whine, arching into Steve’s hand that has now found a home on your covered breast.

“Don’t be sorry, princess,” Steve murmurs trailing his hand from your breast to your neck, toying with the necklace John had given you on your sixth-month anniversary. You haven’t taken it off since, it felt like a mark of ownership. And at first, it felt good, you loved knowing you were John’s girl. However, as the relationship progressed and worsened with every day, it felt more like a chain, weighing you down and forcing you to stay tethered to him. Yes, it had occurred to you to take it off a few times, but you weren’t ready for it to end. Even though it was an extremely toxic relationship, you had nowhere to go.

“Did he give you this?” Steve asks, disdain clear in his voice. And when you nod, he hovers over you, smirking as he grips the necklace and pulls, the chain snapping in two as he flings it across the room. Ignoring your shocked gasp, Steve and Bucky lean back and get off the bed, resuming their earlier position near the end of it.

“She’s perfect, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs after a long moment of silence. Putting a hand on the back of his partner’s neck, he yanks him forward, pulling him into a downright filthy kiss that makes your legs immediately squeeze shut to relieve the growing ache in your core.

At your loud and needy whine, they pull away, both men working in sync to get undressed and hurry to lay on either side of you. Both of them have kept their boxers on, but the very large bulge straining against the fabric does absolutely nothing to hide their arousal.

“Are you sure you want this?” Bucky asks, and even though you can hear the desperation in his voice, you know deep in your bones that they would stop if you said no. And that just further cements your decision, you need them, you need to feel them and kiss them and have them worship you in ways John could never.

“I’m sure, Bucky.”

“Call me ‘Daddy’, princess,” He says, reaching up a hand and placing it on your throat. He doesn’t choke you, but the pressure lets you know that he wants to.

“I’m sure, Daddy.”

Bucky groans as though he’s been punched in the gut, and his hips jerk forward, rubbing his erection into your thigh. He dives down and captures your lips in a heated kiss, momentarily distracting you from everything around you. That is until you feel a hand travel down your stomach, ignoring your underwear and slipping inside to quickly cup your wet and aching pussy.

Pulling away, you let out another gasp, your gaze immediately shooting to your left to see Steve’s very smug smirk.

“Feel good?” He asks as he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly moving his middle finger up and down your slit until he finally pushes through, slipping the thick digit into your quivering hole all the way to the third knuckle.

“Oh God, yes! Yes, Steve.” He pulls his finger out momentarily, only to shove in two fingers - once again pushing in all the way.

“Sir,” Steve growls, leaning down to nibble at your ear. His gravely chuckle when you mumble, “Yes, sir,” sends tingles down your spine, and you’re near tears with how good but not enough his fingers feel.

“I-I need…” You trail off, whining pathetically when Steve removes his fingers again. You whine even louder when Steve pulls his hand out of your panties altogether, letting you see his fingers covered in your juices glinting in the moonlight. The sight doesn’t last long, because Bucky immediately dips down to suck on them, both men groaning in pleasure. The brunette doesn’t swallow though, he actually lets the fingers slip free from his mouth so he can capture his partner’s lips, letting Steve taste you too.

“Fuck,” You whimper, hands automatically tugging at both of their boxers in an attempt to move things along. “Please just fuck me already.”

They separate from each other, grinning wolfishly at each other for a moment before glancing down at your cute pout and pleading eyes.

“What’s the rush?” Steve asks, dipping down to give you a brief kiss. “We’ve got all night.”

Thankfully, though, they get with the program, maneuvering your body to their liking until your bra and panties are also discarded. And you’re about to undo the strap on your heels before Bucky grabs your ankle, shaking his head in disapproval.

“You’re keeping these on.” His command sends shivers down your spine, and you can’t even speak anymore with how turned on you are. Despite this, you somehow manage to whisper, “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s good,” Steve says, moving to kneel on the bed next to your head while he palms his bulge with one hand and squeezes your cheeks between his fingers with the other. “You’re going to be a good girl for us, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir!” You say enthusiastically, nodding your head as best as you can. And due to Steve holding your head in place, you can’t see what Bucky is doing, but you feel your legs being pushed wide open as the bed dips between them.

“Good,” Steve mutters mostly to himself, giving you an unnervingly soft smile for the situation. “Now, Bucky’s been dying to taste you since he first laid eyes on you, so you’re going to let him worship your pussy while I fuck your mouth. Okay?”

If you weren’t already drunk with pleasure, this would’ve been the thing to send you under. His commanding tone and the heat of Bucky’s mouth so close to your dripping core already have you on edge, ready to snap at the slightest touch. And when you nod, Steve turns to his partner, nodding once and smirking when he dives in, parting your pussy lips and licking a long stripe from your hole to your throbbing clit, where he then sucks it into his mouth.

The borderline scream you emit is so loud you’d be surprised if anyone on this floor didn’t hear it, but it’s quickly muffled by Steve shoving his boxers down and easing his cock into your gaping mouth. Now, you’ve never really liked giving head - well, with John anyway. He was always too rough, and the fact that he never returned the favor made it seem more like a chore than anything.

But you could definitely get used to this. Steve’s girth stretches your lips wider than ever before, and even through the haze of pleasure, you can tell that he’s holding back, letting you get used to the stretch. It doesn’t take long, and a particularly rough nip to your clit has you sucking Steve’s cock further into your mouth, and the man curses above you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Steve sighs, rocking his hips forward ever so slightly. When he finds little resistance, he pulls back and pushes in a little further, groaning deep in his chest when you bring up a hand to tug at his balls.

“Taste so fuckin’ good too, princess,” Bucky mumbles against your pussy, pulling away only briefly so he can easily slide two metal fingers in as deep as they could possibly go. It’s clear that his goal is to make you cum, and you’re not that far off. To be frank, your arousal has been building from the moment you met them, and they are not disappointing.

It only takes a few more thrusts of Bucky’s fingers and Steve’s hand coming down to wrap around your throat for you to cum - your cunt spasming and hips thrusting up into Bucky’s face as you chase your high. Soon enough, both men retreat from your body, giving you a short reprieve while they rid themselves of their underwear. Steve moves you so he can lay back against the headboard, adjusting your position so you can rest in between his legs with your back against his chest while Bucky hovers over you.

“Now, princess,” He murmurs, just loud enough for both of you to hear him, and taps your arm. “You’re going to hold onto Stevie while I ruin this pussy. Then, he’s goin’ to fuck my cum back into you.”

“Oh God yes, yes please, Daddy!” If your mind wasn’t deep in the pits of desire you’d probably be embarrassed by how needy you are, maybe even ashamed. Right now, though, you can’t imagine feeling anything but pure pleasure and happiness.

It all happens so fast, Steve grabbing the backs of your thighs so he can spread them wide and Bucky quickly following by pushing his cock - easily the longest you’ve ever taken - halfway into your cunt. He stops there for a moment, letting you get used to the sudden stretch before surprising you by pulling out until his tip is only poking in.

You’re frustrated, extremely so, and you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he doesn’t fill you back up. And you’re about to start whining when the man above you thrusts forward, burying his cock so deep in your pussy that you swear you could feel him in your throat. Deep and guttural groans fill the air, a metal hand grasping your thigh and keeping it spread so Steve can wrap his arm around your midsection and hold you close while the pace quickly picks up.

And you’re in heaven, this must be heaven. Because in no other plane of existence would the two most handsome men in the world be touching and gripping you like you’re a priceless gem they’re afraid to lose. From behind you, Steve groans every time Bucky pushes into you, forcing you to shift in Steve’s lap and subconsciously grind into his throbbing erection.

“Fuck, kitten,” Bucky mutters, bracing one hand on the headboard and dropping your leg so he can grab your throat, squeezing the sides and forcing you to look into his eyes - dark with a desire you’ve never known. But there’s something else there, something primal that no ordinary man could have, a sense of possessiveness and ownership that seeps out of his pores.

You can’t do anything except moan, your mouth parting wider to let out a scream when Bucky shifts slightly, thrusting and hitting that special spongey spot deep within you dead on.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she Stevie?”

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Steve says softly, running the hand he has on your stomach down to your pussy to rub at your hole, feeling where you and his partner are connected. “Always knew she would be.”

Thankfully for them, those words fly over your head. You’re already too fucked-out to think properly, do you even know what your name is?

When Steve swiftly moves his fingers to your clit, your answer is a confident no. All you can seem to focus on are these two men and the immense pleasure they’re giving you. And it takes only a few more thrusts for you to feel that coil in your tummy wind tighter and tighter.

“Is she gonna cum?” Steve asks cockily, noticing the way Bucky’s hips stutter and his brow furrows. Reaching up, Steve grabs the back of his partner’s neck and pulls him in for a rough and messy kiss - mainly tongue and teeth. When they pull away, Bucky is nearly breathless, and you can hear the cockiness in his voice when Steve tells him, “Make her. Come on, baby. Fucking fill her up so I can.”

Those words - coupled with the fingers rubbing your clit, the pressure on your neck, and the cock that’s currently rearranging your guts - make you cum harder than you’ve ever. It doesn’t even really feel like an orgasm, it’s better than that. Something squirts out of your pussy with every forward thrust, and if it weren’t for being sandwiched between the two buffest men to ever exist then you’d be positive you were floating off into the clouds.

Bucky follows soon after, a loud groan of your name filling the room before his hips are flush with yours. Vaguely, you can feel his seed filling your womb, coating your insides, and it takes a full minute for Bucky’s breathing to even out. When he finally regains his composure, he leans back, holding your hips steady and chuckling at the glazed look in your eyes.

“Ready for me to pull out, kitten?” The answer he gets is a mumbled and pitiful “no”, which he laughs at, affectionately patting your hip. “Sorry, princess, we have to let Stevie have his turn.”

With that, he nods to Steve, who reaches over to the nightstand and procures a phone, handing it to Bucky. Bucky places his metal hand on the inside of your right thigh, holding it in place while he goes to the camera app on his phone.

“Okay, princess, gonna pull out now.” With his phone aimed at your hips, he slowly pulls out, hissing quietly but not stopping until his cock finally slips free. He moans softly, and when you finally manage to lift your head enough to see what he’s doing you see the phone leaning closer, capturing the no doubt obscene view of his cum dripping out of your hole. Bucky takes a few pictures and then tosses the phone back to Steve, who places it back on the nightstand.

The men shift, maneuvering your limp body until you’re laying flat on your back with Steve kneeling on the bed between your legs while Bucky stands off to the side, gripping his still-hard cock.

“Alright, beautiful,” Steve says, adjusting a pillow underneath your hips. “You ready for me?”

It takes a second to process his words, but when you do you nod your head as fast as you can, nearly giving you whiplash. You don’t care though, all you care about is the delicious stretch in your core as Steve pushes in slowly.

“Fuck, kitten,” Steve growls, stopping when his crotch is flush against yours with his pubic bone pressing against your clit. He grinds his hips against yours, the stimulation to your clit making you whine loudly.

Steve is drastically different from Bucky, he fucks you slow and sweet, though no less forceful, reaching deep in your pussy until you can barely gasp for air. When your head lolls to the side, you see Bucky stroking his cock in time with Steve’s thrusts, and, without thinking, you reach for him, beckoning him forward until he’s close enough that you can wrap your hand around it. Both men moan, and Bucky brings up his flesh hand and cups one of your breasts, kneading the flesh and rubbing over your nipple, pinching and twisting just right so it’s bordering on a delicious kind of pain.

Then, a loud smack rings through the air, Steve’s hips jerking forward almost immediately after.

“Pick it up, babe,” Bucky says with a smirk, chuckling at Steve’s agitated look, but he does so nonetheless.

Steve starts fucking you with intent, slamming into you at a borderline inhuman speed - and you don’t know how it’s possible but the orgasm building in your core seems to be more intense than the last. And after a few more thrusts, you’re plunged into the dark abyss of pleasure - mind going blank as a loud sob rips through your throat.

It’s an indeterminate amount of time later when you regain consciousness, and this time you don’t recognize the room you’re in. It takes a few moments for you to shake the fogginess out of your mind enough to notice that you’re alone in the large bed, and when you raise your head to look around the room you can’t see Bucky or Steve. But the pictures of the two of them and friends scattered throughout the space show you that this is their room.

“Bucky?” You call softly, your eyebrows furrowing when you hear no reply. Stretching your arms above your head, you force yourself out of bed - noticing that you’re now covered with a large shirt that smells a lot like Steve’s cologne. You go into the bathroom to find it empty, then wander to the large walk-in closet - again, empty.

Where are they?

“Steve?” You say a little louder, tentatively opening the bedroom door and peeking out, finding the hallway empty and quiet. There’s a spark of uneasiness that ignites in your stomach, though you try to stomp it out by reasoning with yourself - they’re busy men, after all.

When you look to your right, you see a set of double doors at the end of the long hallway, and something in you tells you to check there. As you walk down to the doors, more uneasiness pops up, it just feels a little too quiet. But the closer you get you can start to hear whispers, and they become more prominent when you stop right outside the doors. Bits and pieces of conversation flow through the wood.

“I want him gone within the hour.”

“Off the bridge.”

“They won’t find him.”

But one line hits you differently.

“Don’t let her find out.”

Your curiosity is extremely peaked, and it takes all of your willpower to bring your hand up to knock. You feel a little like you’re intruding, but you’re too confused to not impose.

The door opens a few moments later, though it’s only cracked halfway, and Steve appears in the doorframe.

“Hello, beautiful,” He says sweetly, reaching out a hand to hold your hip. “Why don’t you go back do bed, hm? I’ll be right there.”

“But, Buck-”

“Is just dealing with a few things. We had to deal with a business related issue, but he’ll join us when he’s done.” Steve is calm, and the soft look in his eyes is enough to quell any anxiety you were feeling. You’re not sure how he’s able to do it, but he’s mesmerizing, already able to manipulate you to his liking.

You’re sure it’s supposed to be frightening, but you can’t find it in you to care. Unlike John, you know with an enormous amount of certainty that they would never harm you, they’ll protect you.

What you don’t know is just how far they’ll go to protect you - to save you from deadbeat men who are too selfish to not recognize a treasure when he has one. And men that are too stupid to know when he’s being lied to. You don’t need to know that, though.

So, with a smile and a kiss, he sends you on your way, only retreating back into the room when you go in theirs.

“That was close,” Bucky says as he hangs up the phone, putting it back in his pocket.

“It’s okay, she doesn’t know.” Steve turns to his partner, both of them wearing matching smirks. “And she never will.”

taglist (+ people who seemed interested): @yamitem @buckysprettybaby @kokeshi-mynx @cevansbaby-dove @biteofcherry

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #bucky barns #bucky barns imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #stucky #stucky imagine #stucky x reader #stucky x reader imagine #mafia!stucky #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!steve #mafia!steve rogers #let me know what y'all think!!#my writing #my stuff

911 notes · View notes

lizard-on-a-window-pane · 10 months

Text

A kiss amidst the bookshelves

pairing: Remus x reader

word count: 2k

tags / description: friends to lovers, first kiss, steamy kiss, bookish Remus and reader, best friend Sirius, friendship fluff, romance fluff, gn

“You look like you’re about to murder him,” Sirius snarks, falling into the sofa next to you amidst the noise of the party surrounding you, following your gaze across the room.

“I…” you begin your routine protesting but give it up. He raises an eyebrow expectantly, surprised.

“You…?”

An exasperated sigh, then, “I… it… ugh,” you drop your face into your palms and speak into them, “Murder would simplify things.” Sirius barks a laugh in response.

“Do you want an accomplice in offing our best mate?” His smile is conspiratorial, but there’s something in his eyes behind his typical teasing tone.

“Would you mind? I don’t know if I can go through with it,” you joke seriously. “If you do the killing part, I promise I’ll help hide the body.” Sirius, smiling but knowing, pulls you into him, his arm around your shoulders, your head coming to rest on him.

“To be fair, that would probably be the more difficult part,” he continues, and he feels your chuckle against his chest. “I know I can take him, but our Moony is pretty tall; it might pose a problem when we have to move him after.”

An affirmative “hm” is all you offer in response, basking in his warm comfort silently for a moment.

“Or…” he cuts the quiet. “And hear me out here, love. I know homicide will seem the more appealing option initially… but you could, you know, tell him how you feel.”

“Murder. I choose murder,” you deadpan.

“Y/NNN,” he whines with the tinge of a scold.

“Siriusss,” you mimic childishly.

He sighs and says, “Darling, I know it’s scary,” he squeezes you, “but your miserable pining is seriously starting to bum me out. I don’t know how much more I can take honestly.” You pull away from him and shove his shoulder as he chuckles. “Alright, alright, sorry. I suppose I’m slightly concerned for your happiness as well.” The energy between you shifts palpably. You don’t get this side of Sirius much, and the gravity of it shakes you.

“I can’t,” you whisper, looking down.

“You can,” he responds immediately, gently pushing your chin up, his thumb stroking your jaw.

“Everything alright?” a third voice, achingly familiar, startles you. You rush to wipe the ghosts of tears before turning to where he’s taking a seat on the arm of the sofa, looking down at you and Sirius.

“All good, mate,” Sirius answers before you have to, and you grin gratefully at him.

“Sure?” Remus checks, looking straight at you, feigning levity.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you say lightly. “How’s Mary doing?” you ask, nodding to where he had just been chatting enthusiastically to her across the room. You’d always suspected they’d had feelings for each other back in your school days. “Good, good,” he nods. “We were just catching up, hadn’t seen her in a while. I might show her the shop next week actually. Think she’ll enjoy it.” You stomach sinks at this. “Oh yeah?” you hear the strain in your voice, your efforts at hiding your dismay clearly failing. So you quickly add, “That’s great, Rem. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Remus — the Remus that can read you like a children’s book — squints his eyes a bit at you, confused by your tension, probably still pondering the moment he interrupted between you and Sirius.

The shop. Your shop. Your favourite place on Earth. A place you thought of as yours and his. I mean, it was, technically, but you know. You’d opened the bookshop together about a year ago now, and business was tough but picking up. Though you weren’t making much money (yet, hopefully), you and Remus were the happiest you’d been in years, finally doing something both of you found joy in, and together no less.

“Speaking of,” you start, stretching. “I have some work I wanted to finish, so I think I’m going to get going.” “Now?” he asks in disbelief. “It’s late, love. I don’t remember there being anything urgent?”

“No, I know; it’s not.” You get up a bit awkwardly. Standing in front of where he’s perched on the sofa, you’ve gone from looking up at him to down. He really is beautiful from any angle, you think to yourself. You realize you’re staring; you don’t know how strangely, but you see he’s looking expectantly at you, curiousity gleaming in his deep brown eyes. “Urgent, I mean,” you stutter out. “It’s just that inventory I’ve been trying to finish up.”

“You can do that tomorrow,” he tries. “I’ll help.” “No, it’s alright, Rem, really. I just feel like it now.” You smile a strained smile with fake ease but real warmth. Then, shaking off the heaviness of the moment, you give him a quick hug, turn to give Sirius a quick peck on the cheek goodbye, and head out.

You like the shop at night, when it’s empty and quiet. Well, sometimes it’s empty during the day as well, to be honest, but there’s something about the night and the blanket the darkness provides. You especially like it when Remus is there with you, but it’s nice when you’re alone too. Just you and the books and the sense that the shelves that envelop you hold endless possibilities and infinite feelings you can just melt into.

You walk down the cramped aisles for a few minutes, your eyes and your fingertips tracing the titles. When you stumble on a comforting favourite, you pull it down, and nestle into one of the two inviting armchairs you and Remus had set up in a cosy corner of the small space.

If it were any other activity, you would have been shocked at how quickly you were immersed, leaving the heaviness of your love and your worries in the real world to be picked up again on your way out. You are shocked, however, when, as you flip a page, a low voice says, “Hard at work I see.”

You jump, dropping the book, and screech, “Fucking hell, Remus! What the fuck? You scared the shit out of me.” He’s laughing like he can’t help himself as he kneels down in front of you to pick up the book, holding it in one hand and holding the other up in a gesture of guilty surrender. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he chuckles. “It’s not like I was quiet coming in.”

“Well, I didn’t hear you,” you shoot angrily. “Clearly.” He’s grinning as he offers you the book. “Good choice,” he adds, giving it a little shake.

“Yeah, well, it’s comforting every time.” Your tone is easier now but still a little edgy as you grab the book and place it on the little table beside you.

“Hm.” He sounds serious; it makes you turn to him instinctively; you look into his concerned eyes. “And why did you need comforting this time?” His voice is a syrupy whisper, and his question makes time stand still.

Because I love you too much, you idiot, you think but don’t say. “I’m fine,” you do say.

“You’re not,” he responds. You look away.

“I’m fine enough.”

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” he pleads, putting his hand on your knee. “You’ve been weird all night.” “Don’t deny it,” he adds when you open your mouth to say something immediately. It’s not harsh. You close your mouth again, but don’t know what to say instead.

“Did something happen?” he prods after several moments. You stay silent, but tears well in your eyes, transfixed on his. He whispers your name lovingly and brings his other hand to your cheek, stroking gently. You nod before you can think yourself out of it. “I messed up, Rem,” you whisper. “When?” he asks, all kindness. After a mirthless chuckle you say, “Around when we were twelve I think. Maybe even eleven.” His thumb stops its comforting motion in his confusion; his eyebrows are furrowed; one side of his mouth seems conflicted about whether to laugh or not. “I don’t understand,” he says finally.

“It’s your fault, really,” you half-laugh, wiping your eyes. “What?” He tenses and pulls away from you, concern elevated to fear in his eyes and voice.

“I didn’t mean,” you start, leaning forward and grabbing his hands in yours. “That’s not what I meant.” Your voice is still tinged in a cynical snicker, but he’s clearly not amused.

“What did you mean then?” It’s sharper, and it hurts.

“I…” Another chuckle. “Y/N,” losing patience.

“Fuck, this is hard.” You take your hands back and cover your face with them, kneading in frustration. A beat. He says your name again, just as firm but much more gentle, and reaches for your hands, holding them again. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I thought you knew that. We can work through anything, together… but you have to talk to me. Did I do something?”

You look back and forth between his eyes, hear Sirius’s voice in your head: “you can,” and take a deep breath.

“You can tell me,” he repeats, and you believe him… but can’t bring yourself to it.

“I can’t,” you whisper, and you hate the familiar sound of it in your ears. You see his posture sink in defeat, but he doesn’t let go of your hands.

“Can I show you instead?” you ask, terrified of what came next, but more terrified of never finding out. He nods eagerly and goes to stand up, but you squeeze his hands tighter and hold him in place. He settles back down where he’s knelt in front of you, staring at you intently. You shift to the edge of the chair, quite close to him now. One of your hands releases his and comes up toward his face. You hear him gasp as you run your fingertips along his cheekbone then along a prominent scar there. You keep going and run your fingers through his hair then let your hand rest there, on the back of his head among his soft brown curls. You look down at his lips. Your gaze lingers there, making your intention obvious as you move even closer to him. He’s stock-still as you approach, but when your nose touches his, he lunges hungrily forward to meet you.

He moans into your mouth as his arms wrap tightly around your waist, and yours comes up around his shoulders. Your chests are flush now, your legs open wider to accommodate his kneeling form in between them, leaning into you completely, devouring you. His lips work against yours, exploring; his hands, intent but indecisive, travel from pulling you close to holding your face firmly against his, his thumbs lovingly pushing into your jaw, his fingers wrapped in your hair. You immediately fall into a rhythm, opening your mouths to each other. He tastes like chocolate, and you giggle at the realization. Remus instinctively smiles at the sound of your laughter and the slight withdrawal from your mouth gives him the opportunity to trail away from your lips, slowly along your jaw, down to your neck, licking and lingering. You bare your neck to him, your breathing coming more heavily now, your grasp on him tighter. You grip his hair and croon his name, and he moans loudly. He gives your neck a final, wet kiss and pulls back to look at you.

His eyes are dark and lidded; his lips swollen and moist; his hair is messy, and the look on his face is one you’ve never seen before. He looks giddy and lustful simultaneously. Pulling your face to his with a hand at your nape, he rests his forehead against yours and gives you a hungry kiss, fast but firm. He chuckles.

“I still don’t understand.” “What?” you smile.

“How is this a problem?” His thumb is caressing you; his smile is beaming.

“I didn’t know if you felt it too,” you confess.

A teasing tsk then, “Quite daft for the cleverest person I know.” He brings your mouth to his again.

smutty pt. 2!

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauder x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin fluff #sirius black #friends to lovers #first kiss #reader insert #x reader #x y/n

1K notes · View notes

sunboki · 30 days

Text

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

254 notes · View notes

angelicyoongie · 1 year

Text

lovesick (IX)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 11.4k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, dissociation/panic attacks, mild dub-con (character trying to force a kiss), other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold!

Previous - Next

You pull a chunky sweater – Namjoon’s, you think – over your head, the thick wool settling heavily on your shoulders. It makes you want to crawl out of your own skin whenever you have to wear their clothes. You don’t have much of a choice, though, unless you want to freeze your ass off.

They thankfully had enough forethought to bring some of your clothes with them the night they broke into your apartment, but the majority of it isn't warm enough to fend off the dropping temperatures in the cabin. You may be many things, but stupid is not one of them. You know it wasn’t an accident that your warmest clothes were left behind.

You pick at the sweater, frowning, as you nip at it with your nails. You know it’s childish to ruin their things but it’s truly the only way you can act out without foiling your plans. Screaming at them won’t help you one bit and you need some form of outlet for your anger. By the time they pick up on all the tiny holes in their clothes, you’ll hopefully be long gone.

Standing in the middle of the room, you listen intently in the direction of your closed door. When the hallway remains silent, you dart over to your bedside table, carefully opening the heaviest book there. You pull out the thin metal bookmark that’s been nestled strategically between the pages, clutching it in your hand as you hurry over to the window.

You bend down, finding the place you left off yesterday before you resume digging it into the space between sash and the windowsill, slowly chipping away at the paint.

You found the bookmark completely by chance, having it literally fall into your lap a little over a week ago. It was the first time you had dared to touch your belongings after you woke up. Somehow, not touching your things made everything feel a little less real, like if you just wished hard enough, you would blink and find yourself back in your apartment where everything belonged.

But, after a week of pretending you didn’t want to throw up whenever one of your kidnappers brushed up against you, the craving for something familiar became too great.

The bookmark had felt like a godsend. Your heart had squeezed painfully as you remembered that Heejun had gifted it to you many years ago – how it was the first thing he bought after he received his first measly paycheck back when you were teenagers. Who would have thought it would end up being the only tool available to you to escape the stalkers you had so desperately tried to protect him from.

You drive the bookmark in with a huff, hitting the edge with your palm.

You’re pretty confident you’ve been trapped in this cabin for two weeks, give or take a few days. So far, sticking to your plan has been harder than you anticipated. It’s tough, acting like your skin doesn’t crawl when they try to hold your hand, or that your face doesn’t want to twist into a murderous scowl whenever they look at you. No matter how sweet or thoughtful they try to be, you can’t stop thinking about the things they’ve done – the torture they’ve been putting you through for the past year. Even if it goes against every fibre of your being to be around them, you know that this is your only way out. You have to make them trust you, make them comfortable enough to let their guards down, and that’s when you’ll be able to escape.

You never expected it to be easy – how could it be? – but the pretending is beginning to take a toll on you. You’re tired of being locked up, tired of being watched, tired of being around them. It’s a fatigue you can’t escape from no matter how much you try to sleep, and the constant weariness has caused a few near slip-ups already.

It made you unable to stop yourself from jerking away from Taehyung’s hand, despite hearing his footsteps coming up behind you in the hallway long before your arm was touched. It made you flinch when Yoongi stroked the top of your head in passing, even though you had seen him coming. It made your eyes narrow when Hoseok passed you a cup of perfectly normal water.

The weariness is faint, but it’s there.

And somehow, every time it breaches the surface, Jimin is always there to catch it.

He seems to particularly enjoy pushing your buttons. It might be because he knows, at least suspects, that you’re only acting, but Jimin always has a calculating look in his eye when he invades your personal space, when he pushes himself too close for comfort. He’s clearly not that easily fooled by your little act, but you have no clue how to convince him otherwise.

You wince as you hit the bookmark a little too hard, the metal leaving a deep indent behind on your palm.

You take that as your cue to stop chipping away for today, not willing to tempt fate by continuing and risk getting caught. After returning the bookmark to its hiding place, you step back to the window to sweep up the little chips of loose paint into your hand.

Sighing, you take in the sorry state of your precious plants, the poor things having browned and wilted from the increasingly colder temperatures in the cabin. You know there’s no way to save them now that they’re already half-dead, but the dark soil is still of use to you, especially since it proves to be a perfect cover for paint shavings.

You dust off your hands, gaze sweeping over your room to make sure nothing looks out of the ordinary. Deeming everything fine, you turn your attention to your closed door, squaring your shoulders as you listen to the muffled sounds coming from somewhere else in the cabin.

You can do this, you tell yourself, even though both your heart and mind screams no. Straightening yourself out, you glance back at your wilted plants as you open the door. Seeing the dead leaves makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

The only thing you can hope, is that you’ll get out of here before you share the same fate.

You stare down at the pastel yarn in your lap, fingers nimbly casting on another stich as you knit. You enjoy the mindlessness of it – of how you can let your mind wander while your hands work on their own. It's a hobby you picked up a few years ago by chance, when you were procrastinating writing a paper and ended up falling down the rabbit hole of watching people knit chunky blankets at two am. You’ve gotten decently good at it now, at least enough to know some basic recipes by heart.

A sudden huff on your left almost makes you lose a stitch.

You cast a quick glance over at Seokjin as the couch shifts, your own needles pausing as you take in the absolute mess he’s made of the yarn in his hands. Seokjin is pouting down at his creation, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he fumbles awkwardly with his knitting needles. Judging by the jumbled thread around his fingers, he’s just been creating knots for the past few minutes. The sight would’ve been endearing, maybe, if the situation was different. You can picture it a little too easily, how head over heels in love you could’ve been with Seokjin if he had approached you normally. How you would’ve swooned with fondness watching him try so hard to share your hobby with you.

You shake your head, casting the thoughts away before they can settle. It doesn’t matter what could have been when the reality is still this – you’re trapped in a cabin that’s god knows where because he, and the others, are crazy. Whatever weird thing they’re trying to pull by bringing you things you like and participating in your hobbies isn’t going to work. You know that biting your tongue and enduring their antics is an necessary evil, that spending time with them will only help you to better understand what makes them tick - but each passing day is only bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point.

“That doesn’t look right, hyung.” Hoseok chuckles as he walks past the couch, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

He takes a seat on the opposite couch, pulling Jungkook’s feet into his lap. Jungkook is reading one of books Namjoon brought for you, his doe eyes suddenly growing big as he seems to get to particularly interesting plot point. You don’t think it’s a coincidence that he picked the same book you finished yesterday.

As is, you’ve been seeing a lot of them over the past few days.

The boys seem to have worked out a system, something that’ll help them keep up appearances and avoid bringing any suspicion to themselves. It sounded like Hoseok was the one that came up with the idea – of the boys grouping up to stay in the cabin in rotating shifts. Both Seokjin and Hoseok have employees to take over their shifts, Seokjin giving the excuse that he’s trying to branch out the business and thus needs to visit florist fairs out of town, and Hoseok simply stating he wants to take time off for himself now that the shop is doing well. Jungkook can mostly do as he pleases, it’s not like any of your professors take attendance, but you’ve heard him whining to Seokjin about doing extra shifts at Déjà Bloom to make up for the eldest absence.

It seems that Taehyung and Yoongi are established enough in their careers that they can work from home (or the cabin, rather) a few days a week, but you’ve heard them grumbling to the others that their presence is often needed in-house to finish up projects. Jimin, on the other hand, already works in shifts at the station, three days on, one or two days off. You don’t doubt he somehow managed to charm the other officers to give him the best shifts – they seemed willing to break their backs for him the times you visited the station.

It’s Namjoon you’ve seen the least to.

It’s not that surprising, not when he basically runs the local library by himself. He’s already ranted twice about how little support the library gets from the city, so you think it’s safe to assume that he doesn’t have the funds to hire another full-time worker to help him out. You should be glad that it doesn’t leave much time for him to come to the cabin, that he can only come up during the evening and stay until the morning after every now and then, but it only seems to leave him even clingier than normal. The cabin feels extra stifling whenever he comes to visit, with how he constantly hovers around you, holding your hands and hugging you close so that you don’t catch a cold, darling. It makes pretending you don’t mind it just a smidge harder every time.

“I’m trying my best! It’s harder than it looks.” Seokjin whines, hair flopping dramatically as he flings his head back.

You watch his throat bob, lips still pursed in a soft pout as he gently calls out to you, ”Y/n, can you please help me?”

You press your lips into a strained smile, sighing internally as you look at the knotted and lopsided creation in his hands. You don’t even quite understand how he’s managed to tangle it up so badly in such a short time, but the only help you can offer him at this point is just to unravel the whole thing to start anew.

“Sure, give it here.” You murmur.

Seokjin flashes you a sheepish grin as he hands the yarn over, the tips of his ears turning pink as you grimace at the mess. You pull the knitting needles out from the last remaining stitches, tugging on the yarn to find the first knot you’ll have to untie.

“You know you don’t have to force yourself to do this if you don’t enjoy it, right?” You say, staring down at the string as you work to loosen it up.

Honestly, it would be better for you if he didn’t. I do have to spend time with them, but you’d much rather just sit in awkward silence over being reminded of them every time you go to do one of your hobbies after you get out of here.

“I’m not forcing myself to do anything, angel, I want to learn how to knit. I might not be very good right now but I still enjoy it, because it means I get to spend time with you."

You don’t meet the lovesick gaze that burns into the side of your face.

Hoseok does an exaggerated shudder on the other couch, jostling Jungkook’s legs with the movement. ”You’re so sappy, hyung, you’re going to make me gag.”

Seokjin makes an affronted noise, chucking one of the pillows behind his back at Hoseok in retaliation. The pillow ends up veering too much to left, smacking right into the youngest’s head instead of his intended target. Jungkook startles at the impact, too absorbed in his book to even see it coming, shocked eyes blinking back at Seokjin as the pages slip from his grasp.

“What?–”

“Ah, Seokjin hyung, stop bullying Jungkook! The poor baby didn’t do anything wrong!” Hoseok snickers behind his hand as he fusses over Jungkook. He tucks some of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear, gently patting his cheeks to bring him back from the unexpected shock.

“Jungkook-ah, h-hyung didn’t mean it!” Seokjin stutters.

Drowning out their bickering, you turn back to the tangled mess in your hands as Jungkook uses the opportunity to tease Seokjin, joining Hoseok to gang up on him. Your brows furrow as you work on an especially difficult knot, the yarn tied so firmly you struggle to get a hold of it. You’re so focused that you almost don’t realize how the sound of Seokjin’s exasperated voice and Jungkook and Hoseok’s laughter makes your movements falter, heart squeezing in your chest.

You brush of the weird feeling immediately, refusing to linger on the implications as you chalk up the odd moment of weakness on your growing cabin fever.

By the time you’re almost completely done with unravelling Seokjin’s creation, you feel a gentle nudge on your arm. You glance up to find Seokjin already staring at you, his face lighting up as you meet his gaze.

“You know what, angel, I don’t think I ever got to tell you about the time I first saw you.”

You give him a weary look, already knowing you’re probably not going to like where this is going. ”What do you mean? The day at the flower shop?”

“No, the first time, Y/n.” Seokjin smiles, a little bashful. ”It was, eight – nine? months ago, when I was on my way home after closing the shop. It was weird, I ended up taking a completely different route than I normally do and I wasn’t even sure why. There was just this pull, an urge to follow this unknown feeling and figure out what it meant. It ended up leading me to a random grocery store and I suddenly knew there was something I desperately needed in there. I had no clue what it could be, but I figured it would come to me as I walked around.”

“I had almost made my way through the entire building when I finally rounded an aisle, and watched as some kid ran straight into your legs, knocking you over. I almost thought I was dreaming when I felt the pain in my own legs as you connected with the floor. I had already come to terms with never meeting my soulmate, and there you suddenly were, right in front of me.” Seokjin’s voice is thick with emotion, his eyes glossy as he reaches out to take your hand in his.

Because you have to, you allow his warm fingers to wrap around yours, letting it chase away some of the chill in the room despite the fireplace roaring with life close by.

Hoseok and Jungkook look enraptured by Seokjin’s story, and think you can see a faint tremble to youngest’s lips. His tale clearly resonates with the other two, and you have no doubt the others would react similarly if they were here to hear it. It makes you a little jealous, almost, how they get to have memories of relief and happiness over finding their soulmate, while yours is shrouded in terror and confusion.

Seokjin gives you an apologetic smile, squeezing your hand as he says, "I’m sorry I didn’t help you at the time, darling, I was just too shocked.”

“It’s okay.” You murmur, ignoring the what ifs vying for attention in the back of your mind.

There’s one odd thing about Seokjin’s story though, something you’ve never heard about happening between unknown soulmates before.

”You mentioned feeling a pull? What’s that about?"

You think Heejun mentioned how he felt drawn to Jaemin for a few weeks after they found each other the first time, like their soulbond was urging them to strengthen their newfound connection. But that was after. There was never a pull that lead them together in that library, it was only luck – coincidence.

“I’m not sure,” Seokjin admits. ”It was the first and last time felt anything like it.”

“I got that feeling too, that day at the charity event. I normally don’t involve myself in other people’s business, but the thought of not checking out what was going on made my heart ache.” Hoseok adds, a small frown on his face as he rubs his chest.

“Me too. I wasn’t supposed to be in that shared class with Y/n last semester. I had enough credits to drop it, but the thought of doing it made me feel really anxious. I felt like I was going to have a panic attack the one time I actually tried to withdraw from it.” Jungkook says, hesitant eyes flickering from you and Seokjin’s intertwined hands to your face.

“I never felt it, though.” You frown.

You would’ve known if you had, right? If they all had such strong reactions, then there’s no way you could’ve missed all the signs.

Seokjin hums, something contemplating crossing over his features as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. ”You’re not from around here, correct?”

Well, you’re definitely not from here, bumfuck nowhere in the middle of the woods. You bite back the snarky reply, knowing it won’t do you any good to voice it out loud. You’re sure Namjoon must’ve given them the rundown on everything he knows by now, especially with the extensive file he has access to, but since you’re trapped out here for god knows how long, you might as well humour Seokjin and play along.

“No. The city I grew up in is about two hours south by train.”

The three men all nod along like it’s new information, Seokjin even seeming a bit surprised. They would all make fine actors, you think.

“Why did you move here, then? If your friends and family were all back home.”

“The university is nice–”

Hoseok interrupts you with a tsk. ”The university in the next city over is miles better and you know it, sunshine.”

It is.

You even had the grades to be accepted there, if you had wanted to go.

“So? Why did you pick this specific university in this town?” Seokjin prompts, one eyebrow quirked.

You pause. Why did you pick this city to study in? Live in? It wasn’t the best option you had. Hell, the courses aren’t even that interesting compared to what’s offered at other universities. Heejun chose to join you after you had already made a decision, so it’s not like you can blame it on him, either.

“It … felt right.” You breathe.

That’s the only answer you have. There was just this feeling of rightness that washed over you when you settled on your current university, like this is where you were always supposed to be.

Seokjin looks pleased by your revelation, nodding his head as if to say there you go.

You feel yourself growing pale, heart racing and palms turning clammy as the truth slowly but surely sinks in. This entire time you had lived with the belief that the bond didn’t affect you, that there must have been a mistake – something you might be able to change. But this, this means that the pull had been there for you too, that it manifested itself with you first. You just didn’t know it.

None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t come here.

You stare down at the yarn in your lap, at the knots that have been untied and those that are still there. Maybe this was something you were never able to change. Perhaps Namjoon was right, that all of this was destined, and you would’ve ended up here no matter what choices you made.

You’re not sure what hurts most – the idea that fate handed you over to them, or that it was your own soul that betrayed you, tricked you, into this hell of a reality.

Inhaling deeply, you feel the crisp air rush down your throat, nestling deep into your lungs. You keep your face turned towards the weak rays of sunlight streaming through the balding trees, lips twitching at the faint warmth that caresses your face. This is the first time you’ve been outside in weeks and you’re going to use the time you have for all that it’s worth.

The sound of crunching leaves interrupts your moment of peace.

You open your eyes slowly, steeling yourself before you turn back to look at Jungkook. He’s been keeping his distance since you came outside, letting you have a few minutes to yourself. You’re not stupid enough to think that this is him trusting you, though. Jungkook has been tense ever since you stepped outside the cabin, body strung as if he’s only waiting for the moment he’ll have to jump into action to hunt you down.

Thankfully, you’re not dumb enough to believe that you’ll manage get away even if you do try. It’s no coincidence that it’s Jungkook accompanying you outside, it’s easy to tell from his physique alone that he’s likely the strongest and fastest out of all of them. There’s also no chance that Jungkook suddenly decided you bring you outside by himself, without the others being involved first. You knew from the moment Jungkook hesitantly approached you that this was a test.

A test for them to see if you can be trusted; to see if you’ve been broken enough to stay, or if you’ll attempt to run away.

It is tempting, now that you’re outside with the soft ground under your boots and the gentle wind brushing through your hair, but you know that playing the long game is the only thing that will truly get you out of here.

You hug your arms to your chest, pulling Jungkook’s padded jacket closer to your body to fend of the chill that’s started to cling to you. ”I’m getting cold, do you think we can walk for a bit?”

As it is, you’ve barely even moved away from the old house. He lead you out back, to the beginning of the open field behind the cabin, but you haven’t dared to venture much further without his permission. You want Jungkook to take the lead, to let him believe that he's the one in control even if you don’t trust a single bone in his body.

Jungkook pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, doe eyes flickering between you and the clearing nervously. He’s still standing a few feet behind you, just enough to give you the illusion of privacy despite the both of you knowing that you have none.

“We can walk to the tree and back.” He stumbles over the first word before he clears his throat and nods in the direction of the big oak tree in the middle of the clearing.

It’s not as far as you’d like, but you have a feeling it’s to make sure you don’t get too knowledgeable about your surroundings. Either way, you need to stretch your legs and move around to make sure your muscles work once you actually can escape, so the tree is better than nothing.

“Thank you.” You flash him a bright smile, a sense of ugly satisfaction curling in your gut at the way it makes Jungkook almost trip over his own feet.

You fall into step besides him once he closes the distance between you, allowing your arm to brush against his as you trudge through the withered grass and moss. The brief contact is enough to make Jungkook flustered, and even though you hate it, you know you have to keep initiating it in hopes that it'll break down his walls faster.

“The hyungs ..” Jungkook starts, his mouth pinching into a faint frown. ”The choices they made weren’t the right ones, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad people. I-I don’t like keeping you here but they – we – are scared of losing you, of you not giving us a chance if we let you go. They’re only trying to do what’s best for all of us, even if it doesn't seem like it right now.”

He sees the unconvinced look that passes over your face before you manage to school your features, the slight purse of your lips that tells him you’re not fully ready to accept the truth just yet. He continues still, voice filled with gentle mirth as he talks about the others.

“They’ve helped me a lot. The hyungs sort of took me under their wing the moment I met them. I-I, um, didn’t have the best childhood, my parents weren’t always k-kind, but the hyungs have always tried to make up for it – to make sure I never had to deal with that kind of hurt again. My s-stutter used to be much worse before, before they showed me what it felt like to be safe and happy.”

Your treacherous heart aches for him. You release a soft breath, letting go of the urge to take Jungkook into your arms with it. You keep your eyes on the pale blue sky, whispering out a simple, ”I’m sorry.”

“I-I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad for me.” Jungkook rushes to say.

”I don’t even know why I said it, I-I just … want you to know that deep down, they always mean well. When my parents cut me off, Seokjin hyung offered me a job even though business was too slow for an extra part-timer at the time. I hated working for hyung in the beginning. He practically forced me to, saying that exposure to people would help me overcome my shyness and s-stutter. I was always so anxious I couldn’t sleep the night before my shifts, worried s-sick that the customers would be mean and make fun of the way I talked. It was rough, but it helped. Hyung was always there to make sure it nothing bad happened. Seokjin hyung and the others have all taken care of me in their own ways, even if they may seem unconventional to others. The hyungs just care, so much, about the people they love. I-I really don’t know where I would be without them."

“I believe you.”

You don’t doubt that the others have taken good care of Jungkook, or that they all care for each other. You would have to be blind not to see that they’re all close friends, that they all love each other, regardless of the influence of the faint soulbond they share. They might mean well, they might think they’re doing the right thing, but that doesn’t excuse anything that has transpired in the last year.

You still hate them.

That won’t ever change.

“You do?” Jungkook’s doe eyes grow wide with surprise. His lips stretch into a happy grin when you nod, his soft curls bouncing against his cheek as his steps seem to get a little more pep in them.

You crane your head back as you reach the tree, looking up at the sun through the barren branches. You watch a couple of birds fly across the sky, spreading their wings as they dance with the wind, swooping and rising as it pleases them. Oh, how you wish you could join them. You’d be willing to give almost anything for a pair of wings to get yourself out of here. To fly away from the rotting earth under your feet and the heat of Jungkook’s gaze on your face.

You can see him toing at the fallen leaves out of the corner of your eye, his breath hitching every time he opens his mouth to say something, only to regret it and screw his lips shut immediately. He pauses, his chest rising and falling with unsure breaths, before he timidly admits, ”I-I think I might have been the one that helped Tae hyung send roses to your apartment.”

The suddenness catches you off guard. You turn to properly look at him, dumbfounded, as you wait for him to go on.

“I-I didn’t know it was you at the time! Hyung pulled me aside one night when we were all hanging out and asked me if I could help him deliver some flowers without Seokjin hyung knowing about it. Hyung looked so shy, so happy, when he mentioned he had found his soulmate and wanted to woo them properly. We never really talked about our marks – but Taehyung has always had the most trust in the soulmate system, he has always believed he would find his other half. So I-I was really touched that he wanted my help with something so special.”

“Tae hyung never gave me a name, just the address and the apartment number it should be delivered too. I-I didn’t know where you lived since I always left my letters in your locker, so I didn’t connect the dots until I saw him in Hoseok hyung’s shop. Back then, I wanted to respect hyung’s wishes and keep it a secret, he didn’t seem ready to share it with the whole group yet. He seemed particularly worried about Seokjin hyung, that it would affect him badly because his own soulmate had died–”

Jungkook looks like he’s bitten into something sour as the word leaves his tongue. He shakes his head, eyes rolling before he adds, “which obviously wasn’t true – but I understood his reasoning at the time. I regret not asking him more about it, though.”

You blink at him, another piece of the puzzle clicking into place. That is why Seokjin didn’t have any information about the roses, because Jungkook had done it off the books.

For the first time since you stepped outside, Jungkook adverts his gaze to the ground. He hangs his head, a deep furrow appearing between his brows as he stares down at the dying grass. Jungkook pouts, his lip beginning to wobble before he hurriedly pulls it between his teeth. The scrape of his teeth as he bites down on the soft flesh leaves a faint sting in your own; the cruel reminder of your bond causing you to clench your fists.

Jungkook sounds regretful, quiet, when he finally says, "I wish I hadn’t helped hyung cause you even more pain.”

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a brief moment to collect yourself. What are you supposed to say? It’s okay? Because it’s not. I forgive you? Because you don’t.

You turn on your heel, shoving your fists deep into your pockets to hide the way they tremble. ”You didn’t know.”

Jungkook lets out a wounded sound, something close to a hiccup, as he keeps his head bowed in apology.

“I’m still sorry, Y/n.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

Remorse you can work with. If Jungkook is truly regretful of what he’s done, you should be able to use that to your advantage.

You swallow thickly, stepping closer to nudge his shoulder with your own. Jungkook’s dark eyes shine with guilt as he raises his head, face nothing short of distraught as he meets your gaze.

“Let’s go back, Jungkookie.” You give him a weak smile, the nickname foreign as it rolls off your tongue.

It has the intended effect though, as you watch Jungkook’s mouth fall open, a star struck expression taking over his features. You’ve been mentally prepping yourself for this moment for days, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. This is the first time you’ve reciprocated the same closeness, familiarity, that they’ve been suffocating you with ever since you got here. The fact that Jungkook is the first one to hear it is a big deal, one you hope will make the others jealous – miserable – as they hopelessly wait for their turn.

You take a step forward, waiting for Jungkook to snap out of his daze before you continue walking any further. The guilt on his face has softened into something sweeter, doe eyes sparkling, as he begins to lead you back to the cabin.

You can work with this, you think. Maybe if you continue to focus on Jungkook, on the remorse he carries and how eager he is for you forgiveness, you can manipulate him into letting you go. Maybe you can go out for a walk again, ask for some alone time now that he thinks you won’t run–

You squeak as you step on a patch of frozen mud, feet sliding out from underneath you. In the fraction of the second it takes for Jungkook to grab you, all you can think is; not again. He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as he drags you away from slippery patch. Your face is smushed against his padded jacket, your chests falling and rising in tandem from the scare.

You swear it’s like a flip has been switched ever since you got here, your clumsiness levels having gone from ten to a hundred. You were never this bad back in the city; but you also were never this caught up in your own thoughts with planning possible escape routes, either.

“I’m fine.” You blurt out before Jungkook can open his mouth to ask. "Thank you for catching me. Uh, again.”

Jungkook hugs you close, arms squeezing around your waist in reply before he leans back to look at you. The proximity makes you gulp, your throat suddenly painfully dry as you stare at him up-close. With his face so close to yours, you can’t help but notice the small mole beneath his lips, or how pink and glossy his mouth looks after he mindlessly wets it. The cold temperature outside has given his cheeks a healthy flush, adding even more charm to his already cute face.

Despite everything that has happened, you can’t deny the fact that Jungkook is handsome. Pretty - in fact.

Your heart tumbles in your chest as Jungkook takes a tiny step closer. You can barely even feel his hands anymore, the pressure on your waist so light you would think you were made of glass. It’s a stark contrast to how bone crushingly heavy his gaze feels. There’s something intense, yet nervous, in his eyes as they slowly roam over your face, almost like he’s carefully committing every detail to memory.

Your brain is screaming at you to step away, to run, as his face cautiously moves closer to yours, but you can’t seem to move, feet frozen to the cold ground. Even with the sun shining down at you, you swear you can make out stars in Jungkook’s dark eyes as he leans in. Heart racing, you tilt your head, eyelids swooping low as the air fogs up between you.

A particularly harsh breath of air escapes from your lips, the force strong enough to create a misty cloud that momentarily separates you from Jungkook as the condensation drifts upwards. The fleeting veil between you is enough to snap you back to your senses. The weirdly anticipatory fluttering of your heart screeches to a halt, immediately being replaced by a violent shiver of horror as the air clears.

“Jungkook.” Your voice sounds strangled even to your own ears.

Jungkook stops in his tracks as you call out his name, dazed eyes sweeping up from your lips to the strained expression on your face. You would think a cold bucket of water has been dumped over his head with how quickly he releases you, hands yanked away from your body as he stumbles back.

“Y/n, I–” He cuts himself off, face fluctuating between longing and sadness as he looks away. Jungkook shoves his shaking hands into his pockets, voice weak as he says. ”Let’s go back to the cabin.”

You nod, tightly gripping on to the sides of your jacket as you curl your arms protectively around your middle. You once again fall into step beside him, the distance between the two of you much greater than it was before. Your heart is still galloping away in your chest, your stomach tight with nerves. You should be disgusted, repulsed, that Jungkook tried to kiss you, but all you can feel is just – confusion. Jungkook wasn’t the only person that leaned in.

For a split second, no matter how brief it was, you wanted it too.

You swallow down the bile rising in your throat, keeping your gaze firmly locked onto the ground as the cabin’s shadow begins to loom over you. This isn’t good. It’s hard to weed out the cause of your moment of weakness; maybe it was cabin fever, or maybe your basic need for human affection latched on to the person that seemed the least threatening. Or, perhaps worst of all, maybe your soulbond is beginning to turn on you – beginning to accept them despite the circumstances forcing you together.

You cast one last glance up at the weak sun, hugging yourself tight. You whisper out a small prayer to the remaining leaves rustling in the trees, begging that all of this won’t cause you to lose yourself. That you won’t lose sight of the only goal you have.

Escape.

In hindsight, you should’ve known the pretending could only go on for so long.

You breathe in slowly through your nose, carefully scrubbing away any traces of dirt from the carrots in front of you. Cold water flows over your hands whenever you go to rinse one off but the sensation barely even registers, your mind all too aware of the eyes boring holes into your back.

You had jumped at the chance to help Yoongi in the kitchen – any low effort activity that still made it seem like you wanted to be near them were your favourite – but you hadn’t accounted for Taehyung and Jimin to join you as well.

It's unnerving, feeling their eyes following every minuscule movement you make as you follow Yoongi’s instructions. The tasks he gives you are superficial, washing vegetables and stirring pots, but there’s not much else for you to do when you’re not allowed near any knives. Still, regardless of how simple they are, you try to take your time doing them whenever you help Yoongi out.

Normally it’s just to buy yourself a few extra minutes of silence in the kitchen since the others tend to stay clear of it, but now, it’s the sinking feeling in your stomach that makes your movements drag.

Taehyung and Jimin are up to something. You’re very aware that they aren’t as gullible as the rest - that they’re on to what you’re trying to do.

You carefully place the shiny carrot on the cutting board besides you, listening to the steady chop chop chop of Yoongi’s knife as he dices it up for the stew he’s making. He’s muttering something under his breath, his dark brows knitted together in concentration as he stares down at the knife.

He never rushes you, you’ve found.

Regardless of the reason why – maybe he believes you’re being slow to spend more time with him or maybe he knows you need a break from the others some times – you know Yoongi doesn’t mind it. After all, it means he gets more alone time with you.

“Ah–” Yoongi pauses, knife hitting the cutting board with a dull thud. ”I forgot the new spices in the car! I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” You nod, feeling uneasy as you run another carrot under the slow stream of water.

You look over your shoulder, watching Yoongi step back from the counter, knife still in hand as he turns around to face Taehyung and Jimin. He points it in their direction, eyes narrowed as he drawls out a stern, ”Behave.”

Taehyung scoffs, childishly turning up his nose at Yoongi’s demand as he leans back in his chair.

“I’m offended, hyung. When have we not?” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Yoongi’s jaw locks, a frustrated rush of air leaving his nose. ”Like I said, I’ll be right back.” He shakes his head as he goes, throwing the pair another pointed glare before he exits the kitchen.

The moment Yoongi steps out the door; Taehyung and Jimin’s eyes seem to snap to each other like magnets. It’s nothing more than a quick glance, but even just that brief contact carries enough weight to make the alarms in your head blare.

You whip your head back to the sink, hoping they didn’t notice you watching them. Sending out a silent wish for Yoongi to return within the next ten seconds, you resume cleaning the vegetables in front of you, praying the pair will leave you be if you look busy enough.

Only a slow second passes before Jimin’s airy voice calls out to you from the kitchen table.

“Baby, is Yoongi hyung working you too hard? You know you can just relax and let us take care of things, right?”

You stiffen at the question, muscles locking up under the wave of tension that grips your body. Forcing your hands to keep moving, you let out a strained answer in return. ”I-I don’t mind. I like helping out.”

“Ah. I see.”

You can't be sure, not with your back turned and his expression hidden from view, but you swear for a split second that Jimin sounded jealous.

“So, you’re enjoying your time here, then?” He asks, voice deceptively calm.

Nervous, you wet your lips, scrubbing harder at the squeaky clean carrot in your hand. What game is he playing?

“Of course.” You say, proud of the way your voice doesn’t falter.

Jimin hums. The sound is accompanied by slow rhythmic taps against the kitchen table, almost as if he's unknowingly thrumming his fingers as he thinks. Except – the motion is too controlled, too deliberate.

He’s trying to set you on edge.

“There’s nothing you’d want to change? You like being here with us?”

It’s a trap, you know it is, but how can you do anything else besides walk right into it? You can’t tell Jimin the truth. Not when you’ve already come this far.

Jimin must revel in the knowledge that he’s got you cornered.

You clutch the edge of the sink as a chair screeches behind you, soft footsteps padding across the floor until you can feel someone hovering behind you. You squeeze your eyes shut as Taehyung’s familiar cologne invades your nose. You can’t focus with him, who’s practically danger personified, standing so close.

What’s taking Yoongi so long?

Gritting your teeth, you slowly place the clean carrot on Yoongi’s cutting board, praying Taehyung doesn’t notice the way your hand trembles. Jimin asked you a question, but you can’t seem to recall what it was, his voice all muddled together in your head. Flustered, the only thing you can seem to focus on are the soft puffs of air hitting your hair, Taehyung quite literally breathing down your neck. You must take too long because you suddenly find yourself being spun around, the world moving too fast until you find yourself caged between Taehyung’s arms, pressed against the counter.

You jerk back, surprised, heart in your throat as Taehyung’s intense eyes stare you down.

“Answer Jiminie's question, babe.”

You hold his gaze, your skin crawling as you muster up a shaky smile.

“Y-Yes. I didn’t see it at first but I understand it now, why you all did it.” The words are painful to push out, your tongue hesitating to curve around your blatant lies. ”I’m h-happy here – with you.”

Jimin makes a delighted sound, but it’s just as fake as the bravado on your face.

“Are you now? That’s great, baby. I guess none of us are making you uncomfortable, then? We haven’t been ah, overstepping, any boundaries?”

“Of course not.”

Taehyung cocks his head, face flat as he asks. ”So you don’t like Jungkook and Yoongi better than the rest of us?”

“What?” You breathe, taken aback.

You can’t believe your plan might have actually worked.

It’s been a few days since your outing with Jungkook and you’ve been nervously waiting for one of them to bring it up. There’s no way they didn’t wring him out for details afterwards. Maybe they haven’t caught on what you’ve been doing at all, too busy stewing in their jealousy of the others?

“You seem to have grown … close, lately.” Taehyung frowns. ”So, do you? Like them more than us?”

You hate them all equally.

“No.” You’re quick to shake your head. The longer you manage to convince them you care for all of them whilst giving a few special treatment, the better. It’s bound to cause some friction between them, no matter how close they are.

Taehyung lights up, his boxy smile coming in at full force at your rebuttal.

A cough from Jimin is all it takes for it to disappear.

A shiver racks down your spine as you watch the light dim just as quickly as it arrived, his grin faltering as suspicion seems to creep in. He inches closer, scrutinizing your face as he asks, ”Y/n, do you love us?”

“I–” You swallow thickly.

You assumed they would ask at some point but not right now. Not when you’re already struggling to keep your panic at bay and your head on straight. You feel like you’re walking on a tightrope, the edges fraying at both sides.

Still, you manage to force out a shaky, ”I’m your soulmate, how can I not?”

That seems to be enough to placate him, Taehyung’s smile returning once again. This time though, his lips stretch into something more sinister than kind. It makes you realize your mistake a little too late – you never should have worded it as a challenge.

“Yeah?” Taehyung leans in, eyebrows quirking as his gaze dips down to your lips. ”Prove it then.”

You freeze as Taehyung’s hands find your waist, long fingers holding you firmly in place. Your mind races as his face draws closer and closer, Taehyung darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

They tricked, lured you, right into this. You never had the upper hand. It seems that the only person who’s been played is you.

Your eyes widen in alarm as his flutter closed, gaze darting around wildly as you look for a way to escape. There’s no natural way for you to duck away from Taehyung, no lies that will make sense. They’ve caught you and you have no doubt they’ll tattle to the others if you don’t kiss him.

The rational part of your brain is yelling at you to just do it! – you’ve come too far to throw all that progress away over a simple kiss. But the rest of you aches, mourns, the idea. To give yourself away so easily to someone you hate so deeply. Taehyung may see someone he loves, someone he thinks he knows; but all you can see as you look at his face is anxiety and terror; your sanity slipping through your fingers like sand.

He’s so close, brows starting to furrow in confusion as he never meets your lips, unaware of how you’ve been pulling back to keep your distance. Your neck is starting to cramp from the odd angle, hands shaking by your sides as Taehyung’s sweater brushes against them.

He lets out an annoyed breath, the fingers on your waist tightening as if he’s going to pull you against his chest to get you closer.

You can’t. You can’t, you can’t–

Your hands fly out, pushing Taehyung away. You feel cracked open, panicked, the fear and anger you’ve been suppressing ever since you woke up here spilling out and engulfing you from head to toe.

The force causes Taehyung to stumble back, shocked, until he hits the edge of the kitchen table. He blinks at you like he doesn’t understand what’s going on, like he doesn’t know what he just tried to do. He raises a hand as if he’s going to reach out for you, come back, despite your rejection.

They’ll never change.

They’ll never understand.

A sickening wave of terror crashes over you, mixing with the panic as it builds and builds and builds– until you finally, simply – break.

“Do not touch me.” You let out a shrill scream, a note of hysteria colouring your voice. ”How could I ever love you, when this is how you treat me? When you’ve ruined my life?”

Straightening up, you step away from the counter, pulse roaring in your ears as you stare Taehyung down. "The thought makes me sick. Our soulbond is a mistake, a cruel joke, and I don’t accept it. I’d rather die than fall in love with the likes of you – any of you."

Taehyung looks stricken. He must’ve known you weren’t completely truthful if he decided to scheme with Jimin, and yet, he clearly didn’t quite grasp just how vehemently you actually hate him – them. Underneath the panic, there’s a sick sense of satisfaction curling in your gut as Taehyung’s throat keeps bobbing, his dark eyes welling up under your hard glare.

A heavy silence settles over the kitchen as your voice tapers off. Yoongi’s soup has begun to boil and sputter, but you can barely hear it over your own ragged breaths. The burst of bravery you had is already dying off, leaving you trembling in place as it dawns on you just how badly you’ve fucked up.

You startle as Jimin’s low whistle fills the air.

“There she is.”

You jerk your head in his direction, finding Jimin languidly leaning back in a chair, seemingly unaffected by everything you just hurtled at them. You can detect a hint of annoyance, like he’s angry he was proven right, but the smirk pulling at his mouth speaks louder. Jimin looks amused, excited, that you finally showed your true colours.

“What?” You seethe.

“I knew it.” Jimin’s gaze feels like tiny knives, the coldness in them a terrible juxtaposition to the growing smile on his face. ”You’re not broken in at all, are you, baby?”

Bile shoots up your throat so fast you’re surprised you manage to not throw up. You clench you teeth, hands shaking with rage by your sides.

You want to punch him so, so badly.

Even though you know you’ll only end up hurting yourself in the process, you still find yourself moving forward, vision zeroed in on Jimin's gloating expression.

You’ve only taken a few steps when Yoongi rushes back into the room, Hoseok hot on his heels. They both look you up and down, checking for any visible injuries, before they take in the fury on your face.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asks. His concern morphs into anger as he looks from you to Jimin and Taehyung, their wildly different expressions painting quite the story.

You have enough wits left to know that you need to leave before Jimin opens his mouth. Yoongi may be annoyed with him now for upsetting you, but you’re sure that’ll change once he hears what you just threw in their faces. It doesn’t take a genius to know that this is going to turn out very bad for you.

You take your chance as Hoseok hisses a low 'Park Jimin’ under his breath, sidestepping Yoongi as he stalks over to Jimin’s chair.

Bolting out of the room, you manage to catch Yoongi so off guard that he doesn’t have time to stop you, and Hoseok is too far away to grab you even if he wanted to. You run past Seokjin in the hallway, surprise blooming on his face as you enter your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

Panicked, you grab the desk chair, propping it under the door handle to hold it shut. You have no key, nothing to lock it with, so you hurriedly shove whatever furniture you can up to the door, creating a makeshift barricade you know won’t hold them back for very long once they hear the full story from Jimin.

You fist your hair, eyes burning with tears as you pace around the room. You flinch at the loud yelling carrying all the way from the kitchen, six voices rising and falling as they argue heatedly. The door muffles the sounds, but you can still hear your name being shouted back and fourth, over and over again.

Your chest feels so tight you can barely breathe, lungs refusing to expand as terror clings to your body like a second skin. Everything you worked for over the last month was all for nothing, there’s no way they’ll ever trust you after this. You stumble forward, gripping the edge of the bed to steady yourself. There’s no doubt in your mind that they'll do something more drastic to feed their fantasies, that they’ll chain you up somewhere and lose themselves so deep in their delusions that their last bits of sanity will slip away if it means they’ll get to have you.

“No, no, no…” You let out a muffled cry, silently sobbing into your hand as you keep pacing around the room, desperate to find anything that might help you.

You nearly collapse to the floor when you notice something shiny poking out from under your bed, the metal gleaming in the muted light. The bookmark. It must’ve fallen out when you pushed your bedside table over to the door.

Rushing over to snatch it up, you weigh the cool surface in your hand as you spin around to face the window.

You’ve already doomed yourself by blowing up at Jimin.

There’s nothing left for you to lose.

Heart in your throat, you hurry over to the window. You find the small patch you have left, using all the force you can muster to quickly chip away the last of the paint sealing it shut. You dig it in, gritting your jaw as your palm aches with every hit. The yelling in the kitchen hasn’t seized so they must be too engrossed in their arguing to notice the faint pain.

You drop the bookmark to the floor as the last touch of dried paint is gone, gripping the ledge of the window as you start pushing upwards.

It’s not moving.

“Come on.” You grunt, exhaling harshly through your nose as your arms begin to burn under the strain.

You step back, giving your muscles a moment of rest before you resume your grip, putting all your remaining strength into one final push. You’re not sure what does it, maybe it's your adrenaline giving you one last boost, or maybe the universe hears your whispered please against the glass, but the window groans – and opens.

You blink at the fresh air that rushes in, in disbelief that it actually worked. You can get out of here.

You can run.

Wasting no time, you throw a leg out of the window, twisting around to grip the ledge as you carefully lower yourself to the ground. The cabin is only slightly raised from the ground but this isn’t the time to be hasty. Not when you can taste freedom in the crisp autumn air, the dark woods around you welcoming you in with barren branches. If you hurt yourself now, it’s game over.

You wince as your feet reach the freezing ground, the cold seeping right through your woollen socks. You hold your breath, sticking close to the wall and hunching down whenever you pass by a window. You’re going in the opposite direction of the kitchen, but you can’t take any chances.

It’s only when you’ve peeked around the edge of the house, making sure the coast is clear, that you sprint directly for the woods surrounding you.

You hit it at an angle, making sure you won’t be seen from the front of the house while still keeping yourself somewhat parallel to the dirt road you noticed before. It’s too risky to use it, your recapture almost a certain thing if you do. There’s a greater chance of shaking them off under the covers of low branches and fallen trees, so you stick to the dark woods, knowing it’s your ticket out.

You duck under a branch, breath fogging up the air in front of you as you run. Everything aches and burns, but you push through it with clenched teeth, ignoring the taste of blood in your mouth. Being held in the cabin for a month has ruined your stamina, your body protesting the intense movement more than normal but your flight instinct is enough to keep you on your feet. You can barely feel them underneath you; the wet mud coating your socks has chilled you to the bone.

Wheezing, you push a thorny bush out of your way, not even registering the deep cuts they leave on your hands. The pain doesn’t matter. You’d sacrifice a limb if it meant you would get away from them.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been running, or how far you’ve gone, but it’s not far enough. Not when you can still make out the faint, panicked screams of your name echoing through the night.

Their calls makes your stomach twist in fear, a terrible reminder of what awaits you if they catch up with you. They must know what direction you’re heading in by now, but you intend to use your head start for what it’s worth. You’re going to let the adrenaline pumping through your veins take you as far as you can go; until your body collapses, or you’re somewhere safe. Whichever comes first.

It feels like you’ve run for an eternity through the woods by the time you see gravel turning into concrete.

You halt by the tree line, clinging on to a low branch as you gasp for air. Your lungs are burning, collapsing, and the air you gulp down stings with every breath. You’re so tired you can barely stand anymore, and yet, you know you need to keep moving. You need to reach the small cluster of lights twinkling far, far away in the distance.

You press your forehead against the cold bark, hoping the dark spots clouding your vision will settle down if you can only catch your breath. Startled, you wince as something light floods through your eyelids, gaze snapping open to find headlights illuminating the dark roads in front of you.

You sway on your feet, staring at the car driving towards you in utter shock. It’s coming from the direction of the city, which means it can’t be them.

You’re saved.

You stumble into the road, waving your hands desperately as you yell for the car to stop, stop, stop, please stop!

The driver hits the breaks hard, the harsh headlights blinding you as the tires screech against the road. You raise a hand, shielding your eyes from the bright lights. The driver’s startled scream is muffled by the car, the vehicle groaning as it’s forced to come to an abrupt stop a few feet away.

You squint as the driver’s door is flung open, the outline of a man scrambling out. He grips the edge of the door, chest heaving with what you assume is quick breaths from the near miss he just had. The apology for scaring him is on the tip of your tongue, but before you can say anything, the man releases a harsh exhale into the night, the car lights illuminating his breath as it drifts upwards.

“Y/n?"

Your heart promptly drops to your stomach.

Namjoon.

He looms over the car as he shuts the door, the soft click loud as a gunshot in the quiet air.

It can’t be, he – he left yesterday. You allowed him to hug you for far longer than you liked, all because he was supposed to be gone for two days. Not one. Namjoon wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the cabin today. It didn’t even graze your mind that the driver could be him – that fate could be so cruel to lead you right back to them.

You slowly lower your hand, a new surge of panic building inside of you.

You can run, but you’re tired, and Namjoon is not. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll catch you before you even make it off the road. It’s not like you can knock him out and steal the car either, you wouldn’t have been able to overpower him even if you were freshly rested. He’ll drag you back to that cabin kicking and screaming, or – you have one last thing you can try.

Dread weighs you down as you rush forward, making every step feel slow and sluggish, wrong, as you propel yourself right into Namjoon’s arms.

“Namjoon,” You choke, clawing the back of his coat as you press yourself closer, tighter. ”Please – please, take me away from here. I only want to be with y-you, not the others. Don’t make me go back, please.”

“Darling,” Namjoon breathes, utterly overwhelmed. The strong arms wrapping around your back feel like steel bars, caging you against his chest, sealing your fate. ”I don’t understand, Y/n, what–"

“I need you. Only you.”

You just need him to accept, to take you away. He knows the others, knows where they’ll look first and what they’ll do, and once you’re sure you’re safe from them, you’ll figure out a way to escape from Namjoon too.

You flinch at the sound of an incoming call connecting to the car’s speakers, the volume loud even through closed doors. Pulling back, you twist your head just enough to glance at the name displayed across the media system.

JIMIN.

The call disconnects when it isn’t picked up, and your blood runs cold as another one immediately comes in, Hoseok’s name replacing Jimin’s.

They surely can’t know that you’re with Namjoon right now, they’re probably calling to let him know you’re gone, but it only ramps up your nerves, lighting another spark on the fuse that’s already burning up too fast.

Namjoon is staring at the same spot you are, expression tight. The furrow between his brows grows deeper the more he thinks, and you need him to not to that. You need him to trust you. Forget the rest.

“Namjoon,” You whisper sweetly, smiling through the tremor in your voice. You reach up to cup his face, turning his full attention back to you with an icy caress. His skin feels burning hot against you chilled skin, a low buzz spreading from the tips of your fingers all the way up your arm the longer you touch him.

Namjoon looks at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock at your willing affection. Everything about him is tense and unsure, but he still leans into your palm, seeking comfort in your touch.

“The others ... they can’t c-care for me the same way that you do. You’re the only soulmate I need, the only one I want. Won’t you please take me away? I really l-like you.”

You let your voice grow softer and softer the closer you lean in, your last words practically whispered into his lips. Namjoon shivers, his dark eyes turning hazy at the close proximity, at how his dreams are so close to coming true.

Nausea swirls in your stomach as his hot breath spills across your mouth, your heart thundering in your chest. Everything just feels so numb, frozen; your emotions too frayed and exhausted to act up, and your body too chilled to move. Still, you use the shaking hand behind Namjoon’s back to pull him closer, your iced lips clumsily grazing the side of his mouth.

This is it, you think as Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed and his breath hitches, you have him.

You just need a little more, just one proper kiss to convince him and then your escape is secured.

You’re just about to inch off the ground to make sure you find his lips when something pained flashes across Namjoon’s face, and he leans back, out of reach.

Confused, you watch as he releases a deep sigh, turning his head to gaze up at the night sky. He watches it for a second, seemingly finding whatever answer he was reaching for, and looks back at you.

“You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” Namjoon asks, his dark eyes brimming with hurt.

“W-what? No!” You scramble to pull him close, both hands tugging on the lapel of his coat, but Namjoon doesn’t budge.

“I want to believe you but I can’t, darling.” He shakes his head. ”I have to bring you back.”

“I can’t! Please, I can’t go back, this isn’t what I want–” You plead, desperate, as you try to push away from Namjoon’s chest.

He simply tightens his grip in response, pulling you flush against him until you can feel his heart racing alongside your own. He shushes any attempts of begging, rocking you back and forth as you heave in his arms.

"I would love to whisk you away and keep you all to myself, but it wouldn’t be fair to the others, Y/n. You’re their soulmate, too.”

Namjoon’s voice sounds murky and muffled, insignificant, in comparison to the terror gripping your body.

You can’t go back.

Whatever it is they have in store for you, you’d rather die than experience it.

“What about me?!” You sob, hot tears burning down your cheeks as you weakly hit Namjoon’s chest. ”How is any of this fair to me?”

Namjoon pauses, thinks, before he rests his head on top of yours; nodding into your hair as he says, ”It’s not."

“It’s not fair to you, but this is the best we can do. We’re trying, Y/n, and it's about time you start doing that too.”

Something in you shatters.

Your heart, you think. Maybe your mind.

They don’t care. No matter what you do or what you say, if it doesn’t match the reality they’ve made up in their heads, they won’t care.

You’re on your own. A scared little lamb clever enough to escape the slaughterhouse, but not smart enough to avoid the wolf. And now it’s bringing you back to be eaten, torn apart, by his whole pack.

Your body can’t handle the myriad of emotions that crash over you all at once. You slump in Namjoon’s arms, legs giving out underneath you. He holds you close, murmuring something you can’t make out as you stare up at the night sky with glossy, unseeing eyes.

You’re just so tired.

The past year has been one big trauma, one you never processed, and now, you got a taste of freedom only for it to be crushed under the tires of Namjoon’s car.

You’re exhausted.

Your vision tilts as you’re lifted of the ground, your numb feet barely feeling the ground leaving them.

You’re cold.

The night sky grows darker and darker, swallowing up the stars one by one as you’re carried around the side of the car. The darkness fills your sight until it’s the only thing you can see, a blast of warm air engulfing your body as a door clicks open.

A low apology is whispered into the car. Dry lips press against your forehead.

You give up.

a/n: please consider supporting me by buying me a ko-fi! 💖

wooo lots of things happened in this one! what do you think about y/n’s chat with seokjin? her walk with jungkook? what vmin was trying to pull in the kitchen? did you think namjoon was going to show up and take her back? let me know, i’m eager to hear your thoughts!!

you know the drill - everything is unbetaed so please excuse any mistakes!

stream indigo and wish seokjin a happy b-day!!

#bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere hoseok #yandere taehyung #yandere jimin #ot7 x reader #bts au #yandere kpop #bts soulmate au #yandere x reader

2K notes · View notes

love-is-embarrassing · 3 months

Text

Feel the pain getting bigger

Scream Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Amber Freeman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Amber wants to hurt you as much as seeing you with Tara hurts her.

A/N: Please heed the content warning! This is consensual but it's still a little dark and potentially triggering. Take care of yourself ♡.

CW: Toxic!Amber, Dom!Amber, jealousy, possessiveness, pain, crying, rough sex, spanking, pussy spanking, tribbing, strap-on, angry sex, bit of degradation, mentions of murder, reader considers using the safe word, graphic language

Amber was fucking you like she hated you.

Pathetic, desperate moans escaped your wide open mouth as her strap slammed into you again and again.

If Amber didn’t know any better she’d say you sounded like one of her victims when you cried out like that. You could’ve been one of them. God, if she loved you just a little less you would’ve been after the way you acted today.

The way you acted around Tara.

Her grip on your hips tightened. She barely registered your whimper, mind pulling back to the hospital that afternoon.

She hated the way you looked at Tara like she was the most precious thing in the world.

She hated the way Tara looked at you like you were the only visitor she wanted.

She was already fucking you as hard as she could but she wanted to fuck you harder. She wanted you to feel as hurt as she did when she had to watch your hand stroking Tara’s the whole half-hour you two visited her. She wanted you to remember who you fucking belonged to.

Her hidden message was lost on you. You could barely function, stretched stupid and and on the edge of a no doubt earth-shattering orgasm…

…That you couldn’t reach. Pain and pleasure warred in your centre, setting your nerves ablaze, but as good as she felt inside of you the penetration alone couldn’t make you cum.

Amber knew that. She knew exactly what you were asking for when you sobbed out pleas.

“Please what?”

You didn’t respond and the sting inside of you was joined by a sharp one on your asscheek as Amber slapped it. Hard.

“Don’t fucking ignore me.” Her words were followed by another slap on the opposite side.

Amber wasn’t thoughtless with her strikes. She was clearly putting effort into them, strength you couldn’t brace yourself enough for coming down on you again and again. Claps echoed through the room.

“Please -AH- Wanna cum.”

It was hard to get the words out between your yelps and harder still to even think of them through the pain.

A small part of you wanted to wriggle away from her and the red-hot aching she caused, but stronger than the pain was your instinct to keep her silicone cock inside of you.

So your disappointment when she pulled out -quick and rough like a yank- was palpable.

“Sit on the bed and spread your legs.”

Hope lurched in your stomach. You complied eagerly at the thought of finally getting to cum, albeit whimpering when your tenderised behind met the mattress.

She settled between your legs and dashed your hopes when her hand raised. It hovered as her dark (darker than usual) eyes coldly took in your no doubt confused and somewhat betrayed expression.

“What’s a matter? No one ever told you that only good girls get to cum?”

Her hand came down on your pussy. The first swat sent a jolt through you but no real pain followed. She was prepping you.

The second stung and you flinched but somehow you stayed locked in place. Hopefully, Amber would appreciate that.

The third came like snapping elastic. You yelped and your legs jerked closed.

Amber almost felt guilty, seeing tears spring to your innocent, doe eyes. The desire to wrap you in her arms and sooth you crept through her but yet something stormy brewed in her gut. You were seriously going to deny her? After hanging off Tara like a whore today?

No. You had to get it though your fucking skull that there was only one girl who had a claim on you, and she wasn’t lying helpless in a hospital bed right now. Amber had no mercy to give this time.

She pried your legs apart even further than before, blocking one with her body and pushing the other to her arms limit.

“Who does this belong to?”

You relished the cool air, it contrasted the burning shame enveloping you. Both because you were peeled back and exposed like that and because of what you had to say next.

“You.”

Her smirk was pleased but… eerie. It wouldn’t look out of place if a butchers knife suddenly manifested in her hand.

“Good girl. Keep that attitude up and maybe you’ll get to cum tonight.”

The strikes returned with a vengeance, your cries going ignored.

At least your lips got the brunt of it before. In the new position you were open. Your entrance -already sore from how hard she’d been fucking you- burned with new waves of sizzling pain.

Then came a loud slap on your vulnerable clit. Then again and again in the same place. You tried in vain to close your legs, at first on instinct but by smack five your safe word rang through your mind.

Could you tolerate much more? If not you were better off stoping now, but if you could…

While you were deliberating the impacts stopped, the pain however lingering.

“See, was that so hard?” Ambers touch turned into a gentle caress. “Now, lay back for me.”

You did, less eagerly than you’d followed her last command. Amber stepped out of her pants and for just a second the sight of her bare skin sent a throb of such powerful want through you it overpowered the pain.

She moved to straddle you, her cunt hovering over what for you felt more like an open wound. She rubbed against you, her eyes rolling into the back of her head while you winced, too sensitive from your lashing. The pain reignited, raw and burning. It made you think of sandpaper.

Then a flash of pleasure took your breath away.

Her clit massaged your swollen one as she ground into you. Pleasure edged with agony sparked through you, wild wanton moans clawed from your throat.

“Ah! Amber!”

Amber’s stomach flipped. The way her name sounded in your mouth should be fucking illegal.

It wasn’t Tara you were calling for. You were hers, all hers.

She saw the hurt crossing Tara’s eyes when she lead you by the hand out of her hospital room earlier and she wished Tara could hear you now, moaning out like a little bitch for your girlfriend.

She sped up, ignoring the pain creasing your pretty features and your broken gasps. She was close and she knew you were too.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Amber didn’t have to study you for your usual signs of an orgasm, it was as obvious as your scream tearing through the room.

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman smut #scream #scream imagine #wlw smut #wlw ns/fw #scream smut #amber freeman

279 notes · View notes

bedoballoons · 4 months

Text

Taking a break from Christmas event cause it's wearing me out a little, gonna work on requests so I can hopefully get them open soon!!

I have been so excited for this one, like it's just such a creative idea and I'm so so sorry you had to wait so long for me to write it @delicatefestivalcreator , I hope you still enjoy anyway! >///<

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️

{༻~Courage and cowardice~༺}

CW: GN! Reader, mentions of the reader being a little bit scared at first, but growth and bravery in the end~

(Includes: Lyney, Neuvillette, Freminet, and Wriothesley!)

𑁍༄Lyney:

"L-lyney, are you sure they aren't following us? What if they are secretly a assassin? They were sent out to kill as many fatui as they can because one fatui agent killed the assassins brother! They could hunt you down and Lynette and Frem-"

"Oh love, they are just out to get some coffee, look." Lyney chuckled at you, pulling you close so you could follow his line of sight...upon closer inspection, the person really did just seem like they wanted a nice cup of coffee.

"Oh..my bad..."

"Sweetheart, the worlds not always out to get you, I promise and even if someone tried...I'm here to keep you safe and I can protect myself too. I appreciate your concern, but you don't have to be so scared. I will never let anything bad happen to you." You turned to face him, letting his words sink in as he kissed your lips softly. Somehow, knowing that he'd always keep you safe...it made all those worries seem nonexistent...even made you feel a little braver.

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

"What if I get trialed...it's a false accusation, but they have fabricated the evidence and convinced the oratrice of my guilt. I get the death sentence...or if I don't, they find a way to kill me while in the fortress!" You shuddered at the thought, scooching closer to Neuvillette as the two of you sat in the opera house. You'd asked to see it...even planned to talk with him about how trials go, but being inside the place made you more aware of how terrifying it would be to be in the guilty persons place.

"Please, do not fear such things. I would find the means to prove your innocence, even if it meant resigning from my place as chief of justice." He kissed the top of your head, silently wondering what it would be like if he did resign..if all that time that normally went into trails was spent with you instead...perhaps there wouldn't be so many rainy days.

"I could never ask you do to that!"

"...I don't believe I ever said you'd have to. Just know that I would never loose you so easily."

"...never?"

"Never."

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

"Has he killed someone? W-what about her?? Wrio, are you sure I should be here? What if someone sees us together and tries to kill me to get to you?! Or what if they use you to get information out of me, like tell us his the code to his safe or he gets it!" Your bit your nails, your eyes frantically scanning every prisoner that walked by you, why had you come to the fortress again??

"Actually, hes here because he beat up a man who'd bullied multiple Melusines and she's here because she stole a bag for her sibling cause she couldn't afford to buy it for them. Sometimes, people do bad things for the right reasons, that doesn't make them good, but it doesn't necessarily make the bad either." He waved at them both as you followed close behind, seems your mind had gotten the better of you yet again...but knowing they weren't murderers didn't make the fortress less scary.

"There are killers here though...how can I not be afraid?"

He paused midstep, making you bump into his back...had your words stumped him?

"I'm a killer, but you seem perfectly content being around me." Those words were on your mind all day...he was a killer, but you seemed perfectly content around him. Others were easily afraid of him and yet you never were, so maybe the fears you had were never really that scary at all.

𑁍༄Freminet:

"Freminet! I-im scared! What if something's under my feet!" You struggled to keep yourself afloat on the oceans surface, suddenly regretting joining him for a swim...he always made the water sound like home, but the idea of something lurking beneath the waves or getting stuck somewhere and never being found..."F-freminet!!"

"Hey calm down, it's okay." He wrapped his arms around you, keeping you afloat while his cheeks turned a rosey hue, "Do you trust me?" You bit your bottom lip, staring into his eyes as you contemplated that question...of course you trusted him, but the rest of the world was up from debate..

"Yes...I, I trust you."

He kissed your forehead and softly pulled you under the surface of the water, for a second you thought you were going to panick...but you forgot all about your worries. Fish of every colour and plants you'd never seen...bubbles floating softly to the surface and sparkling shells catching your eye. It was more beautiful than words could describe...and for once, not a single thing scared you.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

253 notes · View notes

gaybananabread · 6 months

Note

Hi!!! 💖 If 21 isn’t filled yet for tickletober, do you think you could do ler Asmodeus and lee Fizzarolli from Helluva Boss? The new episode has me craving for some tickle content for them they’re so cute!! Hope you’re well and take all the time you need. 💖

TickleTober Day 21 - New Discovery

Writing this one made me happy. I dunno what it was, but writing the scrunkles just boosted my happy brain chems. I know I’ve been squeaking these in at like 11:50 something at night, but I actually paced myself this week and loved getting this out! Hopefully you like reading this as much as I did writing it. Enjoy!

Lee: Fizzarolli

Ler: Asmodeus

Summary: After a shitty day, Fizz is more than ready for some love from his partner. Ozzie is happy to help, though he does it in his own silly way. After all, what's love without some laughter?

Warnings: swearing (obviously), implied murder (don't worry, they deserve it)! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Hell's worst kept secret…

Not wrong, but the title still pissed the pair off. Ever since the kidnapping incident, they had been a bit more open with their relationship. They obviously weren't announcing it; all of Hell didn't need to know that Ozzie and an Imp were together. But around the factory and his quarters, the fruits were showing more PDA and less shitty excuses when they were caught.

The workers knew better than to say anything.

Still, the occasional whisper or snide comment outside of Asmodeus's safe zone got the jester's blood boiling. Especially when they were about his man.

"Did you hear about Asmodeus and that little imp? Man, what a way to fall. Never thought the embodiment of Lust would do that to himself." The second demon nodded, smirking. "Oh, Fizzer-something? Yeah, a big rooster and a clown. Sounds like the plot of a shitty porno." "Heh, they kinda are!"

Oho, Fizz wanted to rip their throats out and shove them so far up their-

Whooo-kay. Deep breaths, deep breaths. He promised Asmodeus that he wouldn't let small-minded loudmouths get to him, especially sinners. But they so deserved it, and he was just a few feet away…

They just had to keep talking, though. "And hey, he didn't even pick a working one! The thing's defective! Robotic limbs and shit. Dude really needs higher standards."

That was it. The jester turned, running at them with nothing but rage and hate in his eyes. The dumb fuckheads barely had time to begin a plea before Fizz went to town.

When his Fizzie got home, Ozzie immediately knew something was wrong. His partner’s colorful clothes were coated with black blood. The sin hurried over to him, surveying the imp for injuries before scooping him up into his arms. “Fizzie, babe, what happened?”

Asmodeus’s voice radiated concern, comfort and love for the jester. Fizzarolli couldn’t have gotten any luckier when him and the demon connected for the first time. Or the second. Or the many, many times after that. Eh, who needs labels?

“Some…assholes, spewing shit about you and me. I tried, but…they needed a lesson on how to shut up.” One of the robotic arms was damaged in his fit of rage. Apparently the loudmouthed sinners had a bit of fight in them. Fizz still disposed of the garbage; he just got a bit messy.

Ozzie sighed, nuzzling his feathery head against Fizz’s smooth skin. “Froggie, I love that you wanna defend me, but it’s not worth you getting hurt. I’d take all the shit-talk Hell has to offer if it meant you’d be okay.”

So mushy… The imp rolled his eyes, secretly melting inside at the sweet words. “Alright, alright, I get it. No more fighting over your honor. Tell Hallmark the message worked.”

Then he did Fizzarolli’s most favorite thing ever. He laughed, a deep snort kicking off the rumbling chuckles. Fizz laid his head on Ozzie’s chest, feeling the vibrations and listening to the short burst of amusement. The sin stood, sighing out a final huff before carrying his partner to their bed. It was the only one big enough for Asmodeus, let alone Fizz, to fit.

Following their pattern, Ozzie removed his elaborate suit, slipping on his robe instead. He then helped the jester peel away the blood-stained outfit, quickly drawing a bath for him. They were at the point where it was just second nature; one of them has a bad day, they get a warm bath, cuddles and shitty RomComs until they fall asleep. That day was Fizz’s day to be pampered.

After some calming back rubs in a nice bath, all blood was clean and the imp was feeling a bit better. Ozzie got him a new arm, making sure to give him little forehead kisses as he worked. Finally, they were ready to lay down.

Surprising no one, Ozzie was the big spoon. He hugged Fizz close under the covers, rubbing his back soothingly. The Lust ring’s RomCom channel played distantly on the TV. It was barely a minute before the jester was dozing off. The sin’s touch softened, absentmindedly wandering across Fizzarolli’s bare skin.

His feathery fingers eventually made their way to the imp’s sides. Fizz was drawn from his sleepy stupor by an unexpected buzzing along his side. A feeling he hadn’t felt in quite some time. He squirmed a bit, feeling the fingers go back to his back. The moment he settled back down, however, they returned.

A quick glance at Ozzie’s dreamy expression told him that the sin wasn’t doing it on purpose. The rooster just thought he was giving him soft affections. Sighing, Fizz squirmed again, adjusting himself so the tracing was closer to his lower back. That was apparently a big mistake.

The moment one of the feathery fingers brushed his back, he squeaked, flinching away from the touch. Asmodeus immediately went into Mother Hen mode, lightning his touch and looking for injuries. “Fizzarolli, why didn’t you tell me you hurt yourself? Back injuries are serious!”

Ugh, why did he have to care so much? “I-I didn’t…” The lighter touch was somehow worse, sending a flurry of butterflies to attack his stomach. Fizz’s tail twitched, trying to wag; he made sure to force it still. Unfortunately for him, that also meant he took a small amount of focus off his verbal reactions. The smallest, teensiest little giggle slipped past his lips. Ozzie immediately stilled his fingers; as a sin, he easily heard the noise. Then something clicked.

“Froggie…are you ticklish?” Shit…Fizz tried to run, a burst of adrenaline pulling him from the sleepy peace. Ozzie was on him before he could move an inch. The little imp didn’t stand a chance.

“W-wait! Ozz, don’t you fucking dare!” His robotic arms wrapped around the sin’s body, trying to push him off. That was nearly impossible, as Asmodeus was over four times his size and much stronger than the prosthetics. Still, he could only try.

The rooster smirked, his demeanor doing a complete 180. Ozzie went from concerned and soft to playful and smug in seconds; it was almost scary how fast he could switch like that. “Oooh, babe, I definitely fucking do~”

Before he could get another protest out, ten feathered fingers attacked his torso. Five running along his back, five snaking around to his stomach. In seconds, small giggles slipped past his lips, a blush tinting his scarred cheeks. “N-nohoho! Ohohozzie you dihihick!”

“I know it’s one of your favorite features, but let’s leave my dick out of this.” Stupid, cheesy words; it was unfair how blushy they made him. Fizz tried to wiggle away, but even with his insane flexibility, Ozzie’s strong arms kept him trapped.

He twisted and kicked, his limbs swinging and flailing as he tried to escape. He didn’t fully mind the tickling, but Fizz had an image to protect. The amazing, alluring, ass-kicking Fizzarolli couldn’t be seen getting reduced to a giggly puddle; even if nobody was watching but his boyfriend.

“Tickle tickle tickle, Fizzie~” He just had to tease… If there was one thing that killed Fizz, it was Ozzie’s silly teases. Normally, they were just flustering. Those teases, though; they drove him nuts. “Shuhut the fuhuhuck uhuhup!”

Ozzie loved the sight of his squirmy boyfriend. The genuine laughter, happy smile, vibrant blushes and adorable noises warmed his loving heart. He genuinely couldn’t be happier than when he was with his Fizzie Frog; especially when the imp was all giggly like that. “Awww, babe, I’m just tryna cheer you up! Are you not feelin’ just a teeny bit better?”

Okay, that wasn’t fair. He was definitely feeling better than when he arrived, but that wasn’t totally because of the tickling. Being around Asmodeus, as evil as he was, immediately boosted his mood. “Thihis- ihit’s nohot fahahair! Youhuhu suhuhuck!”

“Only for you, Fizz~” Just to be evil, Asmodeus fluttered his fingers on the jester’s hips. FIzz squealed, his arms swinging to try and grab Ozzie’s hands. Oh, that asshole! “SH-SHIHIHIT! AHASMODEHEHEUS! NAHAT THEHERE!”

Ozzie chuckled, loving the high-pitched cackles from his partner. “But right there is my favorite! C’mon babe, you gotta admit that this is pretty cute.” Fizz groaned through his laughter, thrashing under the sin’s tickly assault. His robotic appendages were no help, merely bouncing off the sin’s feathered skin instead of actually deterring him.

“NOHO IHIHI”M NAHAT! OHOZZIEHEHEEEE!” Fizz could feel his tail wagging, the tip making a gentle thump against the sheets. At least the rooster wasn’t teasing him about that. “Ooh, Fizzie, your tail’s wagging. Are you enjoying yourself?” Spoke too soon…

Seeing that he was working his partner up a bit too much, he moved away from the imp’s hips, deciding to focus on Fizz’s neck instead. “Alright, alright. I won’t kill you, Fizzie babe.”

“F-fuhuckin’ feehels like ihihit!” Fizz whined, his laughter dying down to squeaky giggles. He turned his head, burying his face in the pillowy mattress. The muffled giggles only made him cuter, in Ozzie’s opinion. He leaned his head down, peppering the jester’s face with light kisses. Fizz scrunched up his shoulders, both loving and hating how the ticklish kisses made him melt. “Bahahahaaaabe!”

Ozzie chuckled, basking in the way his boyfriend reacted to the silly affections. The faces in his hair were smiling wide, portraying his obvious adoration and love. So fucking cute…

It was almost comical, the way the large sin cuddled up to the smaller imp. The love they shared was like no other; based on good communication, mutual respect and pure affection, it was about as healthy as you could get. Sure, they weren’t officially public, but nobody else needed to know about them for it to be wonderful. Especially in the cutesy moments like those.

As much as Fizzarolli loved the attention, he was wearing out. Dealing with the dicks from that morning, combined with the goofy fun, had him pretty drained. “Ohozziehehe! Plehease, noho mohohore!”

And just like that, it was over. Asmodeus respected boundaries more than any other creature in hell; the moment Fizz wanted him to stop, he would, no questions asked. He did, however, pull the imp against his chest, rubbing small circles into his back to help calm him down. The sin’s voice was soft once again, save for a teasing edge. “Easy, babe. You okay? I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Fizz took a few deep breaths, getting out the last few giggles as he snuggled against his man. “Uhum…no, you’re good. But *damn*, did you have to go for my hips?” Ozzie snorted, nuzzling his head against the imp’s. “You know I did. It’s adorable, how can I not?”

He held Fizz tight, flipping them over so the jester was laying on his chest. It was their favorite way to sleep; Fizz could feel the warmth of his boyfriend, and Ozzie could sleep peacefully, knowing his partner was safe while he was with him. Fizzie grumbled, but didn’t protest the movement. He was tired, and he couldn’t deny that the sin’s chest was rather comfortable.

The covers were pulled over the pair, concealing almost all of Fizz’s body. His concealing hat was removed, placed on its holder for the night. It was nice, affectionate and calm; just the way the pair liked it. They drifted off, the small yet happy smile never leaving the imp’s face.

#hb tickle #lee!fizzarolli #ler!asmodeus #ler!ozzie #ticklish!fizzarolli #augtickletober2023 #tickle fic #sfw tickling community #tickle #augtickletober 2023 #augtickletober #helluva boss tickle #hb fizzarolli #hb asmodeus #hb ozzie #fizzmodeus #fluffy tickles #the skrunkles

280 notes · View notes

lab1rynth · 11 months

Text

Yan!Ghost/Spirit

Yan!Ghost who resides your new house, it was built during the Victorian Era and surprisingly still had all of its furniture set up in the house, which was honestly a relief to you, you could either sell it all to gain some of the money back that the house costed you, or you could keep it and clean it all up so you didn't have to buy any new furniture.

Yan!Ghost who you heard of by the sellers of the house, there was a man who was murdered at that house, he was found without a head or any trace of evidence to lead to who he was or why he was murdered. 'He is quite active' they said, you tried not to laugh. You never believed in ghosts, but you decided to listen to their warnings since they had sold the house for quite cheap because of this 'John Doe'.

Yan!Ghost who finally catches a glimpse of you the day after you bought his house, he followed you through out the house, taking his time to look over you closely. Watching you touch and move his furniture. Running your hands along his velvet couch, his phonograph, his dinner table. The last people who lived there at least asked his permission to use his things, they studied up on him, but you, you waltz up in his home like you own the place!

Yan!Ghost who starts the haunt, that night a little after you went to sleep, he started playing some of his tunes on the phonograph as he did every night. He sat on the couch and let out a small sigh, relaxing as the music flooded through the room. Though the calm was quickly interrupted by you barging into the Livingroom with your flashlight, waving it around the room and checking for intruders before turning off the phonograph with a huff and heading back to bed. Absolutely unbelievable, how dare you turn off his music!

Yan!Ghost who absolutely trashes your stuff while your asleep, knocking over your boxes and breaking stuff. Hopefully when you wake up to your things a mess then you'll figure out how he feels when you touch his things!

Yan!Ghost who continues to watch you the next day, feeling pleasure in watching you clean up the mess he's made. Though you seem as if you couldn't care less, you chalked it up to you just not balancing the boxes correctly.

Yan!Ghost who randomly appears out of the corner of your eye, a dark figure with no head just standing there facing your direction, you would walk through cold spots and immediately feel as if you got hit on the back of your head, the phonograph randomly would play and screech at different times of the day, cupboards and doors would be slammed, stuff would fall without reason, yet you still stayed.

Yan!Ghost who one day see's you looking up things about him on your small little screen thing. He watches over your shoulder and reads with you, he had laughed along when they said one particular thing about him that was not at all true. It spooked you and you had jumped up, getting frightened by the random loud voice that was so close to you.

Yan!Ghost who gets an idea after that and starts whispering to you, speaking in your ear, saying hello or good morning. He didn't like you, but you were living with him now, so you both might as well get comfortable. With the next few months, you both did! He would help you find stuff, just talk to you, and leave you be if needed, and you'd respect his things and his music! You would loudly speak whats on your mind, knowing he's listening. Though he still hits you every time you walk through him.

Yan!Ghost who starts actually taking a liking to you, you start seeing him more, not just in the corner of your eye, but walking in front of you, or sitting next to you. He wasn't just a dark figure like he was before, you saw details now, he wore quite a dapper looking suit, with a muted-brown coat, his head was sliced off at the neck, where it was surprisingly clean, no blood drew out of the cut, probably because there wasn't actually any blood there.

Yan!Ghost who goes radio silent for a week or two after all of the activity, not even the nightly tunes you've gotten use to. Stuff of yours start to disappear with no hope of finding them. You shout at the ghost every time something important of yours ends up missing, to no avail.

Yan!Ghost who had been stashing your stuff in the attic, where he stayed most of the last few days. He feels absolutely disgusted with himself, he feels absolutely in love with you! How could he do this to himself! For the last few days he stomped around in the attic, punching stuff and throwing things, though randomly he would just plop himself down and stare at one of your objects he's collected, taking in every detail.

Yan!Ghost who started watching you in your sleep, looming over your body, staring at your peaceful face. He'd sit on the edge of the bed and caress your cheeks, and explore your body with his hands, most of the time finding himself rubbing his thumb over your lips, parting them and just admiring them. What he wouldn't give to kiss those lips.

Yan!Ghost who, one night, sat on the edge of your bed. His hands had roamed as they did every night, just feeling your skin against his fingers. His hands hesitated when they felt over your neck, stopping for a second and contemplating, before gently pressing down against your neck, slowly adding more and more weight onto your neck until you were choking and struggling against the invisible hands against your neck, you thrashed and yelled, your hands scratching at your neck as you tried to breath, before eventually going limp.

Yan!Ghost who, after a few minutes of silence, let go of your neck, his hands shaky as they moved them back up to your face, your eyes wide open and your lips parted. What he wouldn't give to kiss those lips. He can only sit and wait until the next time he see's you again, and he'll be there for you with open arms.

#male reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x gn reader #x male reader #x male y/n #x masc reader #x gn y/n #x y/n #yandere x you #x m reader #x f reader #yourprettyboysposting #yourprettyboyswriting

855 notes · View notes

kachowder · 1 year

Note

Would Loren ever kidnap the reader? If so can you write a story about it.

Tw: Kidnapping, Yandere Themes, Blood, very mild gore, the reader is obviously here against their will

I think this is actually the most yandere thing I’ve written for Loren.

——————-////——————————————-

The rope was soft, made of some type of felt, originally meant to limit any damage to your wrists if you chose to struggle. Though, ever the fighting spirit, your struggling had caused enough friction to leave behind burning red marks. Not that it bothered you as much as it did your captor.

“Darling, I told you you’re going to get a rash!” He fretted melancholically,the gentle giant hunched before your scrunched up form, hands delicately rubbing some type of ointment against your poor wrists.

A low growl tumbled from your throat, and Loren made it very obvious that he enjoyed the sound, despite the situation.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t want to do this. You know that right? I hate seeing you like this.” He paused, having the nerve to blush and smile bash fully as you glared at him. “I suppose…that’s not entirely true. I like seeing you no matter what. But wouldn’t it have been nice if the roles were reversed?”

No. It wouldn’t have been nice. Not unless it meant your escape and his eventual imprisonment for kidnapping, stalking, breaking and entering and whatever else he’s done up till this point. Murder? You didn’t think someone like Loren was capable of that, but you’ve been wrong before.

“Maybe if you’re nice….” His thumb dug gently into your cheek and under the silk fabric that bound your mouth, tugging it down slowly, maybe savoring the contact against your cheek. “We could do that? When I can trust you?”

The teeth that bit into his hand was a good enough answer. Though his reaction was less than pleasant for you.

His pupils dilated, his own teeth biting and tugging at his lip as he watched blood pool and drip from his hand. He twitched, face dusted a vibrant red before those dark, light devoid eyes slid over to you. His thumb, that was in your mouth, being threatened to be bitten off, rolled against your tongue.

You looked feral, truly. Face covered in dirt and grime, blood dripping from your lips, clothes torn, barely hanging on, and surely you reeked by now.

But Loren had never found you so enchanting. At least not within the last 5 seconds. Frankly any moment looking at you was enchanting. However this one in specific brought about a certain desire in him.

He groaned, disgustingly, when you spat his hand out, leaving behind lovely dents in his hand. His eyes drank in the sight of his saliva and blood covered thumb.

“Angel…”

That tone made you shrink in on yourself. You knew what it meant when he sounded like that.

“You wouldn’t mind..helping me take care of something..would you?”

“Ortega-!” Your voice cracked harshly, having not been used in days..maybe weeks, but it was silenced quickly once again by the bloody hand that covered your mouth. You thrashed violently against the weight that now laid atop you.

“Hush angel, just let me hold you for a while…please..”

———-

I have so many Loren asks. Thank you all tho! Hopefully I’ll finally get around to that master list. Wouldn’t that be nice!

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #loren oc #yandere jock

799 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 2 months

Note

is there a way to read all of "JayKon soulmates, TimKon datemates, and the wrong Superboy." in one spot? going through the tag it's all jumbled, and it's one of my favorite fics of yours

Thank you! I like that one, I'm really pleased with how it's been coming out. ❤

Honestly, there is not an "all in one place" version of it, though, so have this read-more that will fix that problem for you, friend. This is the whole WIP so far (barring, like, some out-of-order bits that have not yet been woven into the larger whole, haha).

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. It's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP.

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked-up shit he's done and said to Tim.

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates.

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession.

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts.

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something?

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that.

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking besotted Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is.

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him.

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from.

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really.

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up.

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever.

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely.

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway.

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises.

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that.

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather.

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate.

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment.

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern.

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were."

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and then steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him.

Goddammit.

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much.

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway.

Fuck, he'd better be.

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not.

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now.

Ugh.

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid.

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit.

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show.

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though.

"'Bored', huh," he says instead because if this is somebody hitching a ride in or fully copying Superboy's body, there is no fucking way that he is coming out on top in a one-v-one with a Kryptonian hybrid. He might be able to get away, maybe, but then he'd be leaving a probably pissed-off fake Superboy with free rein on his territory and every reasonably innocent person in it.

Yeah, that seems like a stupid idea.

"What can I say, I like a bad boy," fake Superboy says, smirking at him again. Jason would be embarrassingly into that smirk, if not for the fact that it's not Superboy wearing it. Right now, he just wants to deck this fucker. "Don't you?"

"I could maybe see the appeal," Jason says, though he doesn't usually. Honestly, he's more a romantic than anything else. He knows he won't ever get that, especially considering what he's done and who his soulmate is and how very, very disgustingly in love with his brother said soulmate is, but–not the point. Either way, Jason's not gonna be honest about his taste in partners with a damn fake version of his goddamn soulmate.

"Yeah, I bet you could," fake Superboy says with a wider smirk as he steps in a little closer, all the way into Jason's personal space. All of Jason's internal alarms go off, his spine prickling in restless discomfort.

He really, really hopes Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight.

“We're taking bets now?” Jason snorts dubiously. Fake Superboy grins at him, and it's worse than the smirking because it's not just a suggestive come-on, it's one of the pleased looks the real Superboy would never give him. Something he saves for Tim or Steph or Dick or literally just anyone else. He's pretty sure he's seen him grin like that at Bruce, even.

Though it admittedly does lack some of its usual effect when Jason can't feel any of the emotions behind it.

“You can take anything you want, Hood,” fake Superboy purrs, skimming a hand up Jason's chest. If he were Superboy, this would be the part where Jason called him an asshole and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, except if he were Superboy he'd never actually be doing this. Superboy loves Tim. Adores him. And he's not a desperate for attention teenager anymore, much less this kind of a selfish fucking prick.

So Jason is just stuck on this stupid fucking roof with a stupid fucking fake, and this fucking funhouse mirror is the closest he's ever getting to his own fucking soulmate.

The wait on this damn panic button better be a short one.

“‘Anything’, huh,” he says, folding his arms. The fake Superboy gives him another smirk and taps his fingers against the underside of Jason's jaw, just where his helmet fastens.

The fastener clicks, and his helmet falls apart and falls right off him and into fake Superboy's hands. Jason should've left the bomb in it.

Tactile telekinesis. Okay. So the fucker does have access to Superboy's powers, one way or another.

Fuck.

At least Jason wore his domino tonight. He doesn't know what this asshole actually knows, and he might be legally dead, but compromising any Bat-related identities is still not the place to start.

“You're too damn hot to wear this clunky-ass thing all the time, you know,” fake Superboy says, turning over Jason's helmet in his hands and still smirking at him. Jason would really like to make with the pistol-whipping right now. “Real waste of a pretty face.”

“We don't all have bulletproof skulls,” Jason says dryly, and fake Superboy laughs.

“You'd be bulletproof if I got my hands on you,” fake Superboy points out casually, which is not actually an application of TTK Jason was aware of but does raise a lot of questions he is not going to internally explore. Ever.

“Who said you were getting your hands on me?” he says, and the fake Superboy laughs and taps his fingers against Jason’s helmet.

“Dunno,” he says, tilting his head with a sly expression. “I wouldn’t mind it the other way around either, though.”

Fuck his life, Jason thinks.

“I’m on the clock here, you realize,” he says, and fake Superboy laughs again and then pulls a mock-pout.

“C’mon, Hood. Told you, I’m bored,” he says, somehow actually managing to find the space to step in closer without quite touching him. His grin is a sharp, glittering thing. “Play hooky with me.”

This panic button cannot possibly work fast enough, Jason thinks.

“Fuck it, whatever,” he says, because fake Superboy is clearly not taking no for an answer here and he just needs to buy a little time for someone to get here. Hell, even if fake Superboy were taking no for an answer, he’d probably still want to keep the asshole around as opposed to letting him slip off and put on who knows who else’s face. Better to get him while they’ve got him clocked, one way or the other. “It’s been dead all night anyway. What do you want?”

Fake Superboy’s grin widens. If he was the real one, Jason would want to bite him over that expression. Unfortunately, he’s not the real one. Again: fuck his fucking life.

“For starters, bet I could liven things up for you,” fake Superboy purrs, and then he props Jason’s helmet on his cocked hip and braces his free hand on the bricks behind him, leaning in close with an absolutely smug “coy” expression. Jason considers biting him in the not fun way.

Eh, no, he’d probably just break his fucking teeth.

It’s a fucking temptation, though.

“Yeah?” Jason drawls dubiously. “Big talk for a Super.”

Fake Superboy snickers.

“Yeah, they tell me I’ve got a big mouth,” he says with an obvious leer. “Wanna see?”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Jason asks, curling his lip in irritation, and fake Superboy laughs.

And then actually kisses him, the fucking shit.

Jason barely manages not to punch him for it. Again, he’d just break his knuckles.

The fake Superboy sticks his tongue in Jason's mouth and Jason gets absolutely no sense of a soulmate bond, so whatever's going on, Superboy is definitely not in the driver's seat right now, or just not home at all or what the fuck ever. So yeah, that's a no on mind control and probably also possession, and definitely not the effects of red or black K. Not that the total lack of empathy bond response all this time hadn't already proven that pretty damn thoroughly, considering.

Also, the real Superboy's always had a rep as a flirt and if nothing else definitely spends way too much time in Tim's back pocket to not be a better kisser than this by now. Seriously, Jason refuses to believe that he is not, if only for Tim's sake. This prick kisses like he barely understands the concept.

Fucking figures, Jason thinks, and crushes their mouths together.

Fake Superboy kisses like a fucking middle schooler, and Jason is absolutely exasperated about having to put up with it. Like–it’d be one thing if it was actually Superboy kissing him like this, and if Superboy wasn’t dating his fucking brother. Then he’d probably think it was funny. Or even kind of cute, honestly, especially with how the guy preens and postures and plays it up.

And then he’d get to teach him how to kiss better, too, and fucking relish the process.

This, unfortunately, is not that situation. This is just some asshole wearing the face of the hottest bastard Jason knows and not doing it justice with his sub-par kissing skills.

. . . actually–“her” sub-par kissing skills, maybe? Jason actually has no fucking clue if this is a man or a woman, does he. For all he knows this is an actual middle schooler, which holy fucking Christ, is an absolutely disgusting thought. If this is some kid with shapeshifting powers who somebody coached into this, Jason is going to crack out the good ol’ bloody duffel bag and start collecting heads again.

He’s pretty sure they’re not, at least, because they might suck at kissing but they don’t move like their body is too big or anything like that. Then again, they don’t move like their body doesn’t fit either, so their powers might be accounting for that. Or–whatever they’ve currently got going. Maybe it’s a fucking spell or maybe it is possession and the muscle memory is keeping Superboy’s body moving at least semi-normally. Again: this asshole has this act down to the microexpressions.

It’s just so, so screamingly obviously fake all the same, though.

Jason breaks off the kiss to bare his teeth at said fake, who grins at him all crooked and sultry-warm. Jason, again, debates the merits of breaking his knuckles on this asshole’s face.

“You can’t kiss for shit,” Jason says bluntly, because only a fucking idiot wouldn’t notice that anyway, and fake Superboy laughs.

“Aw, you don’t like it like Rob does?” he asks teasingly, his grin widening as he leans forward a little heavier on the arm he has against the bricks. Jason is absolutely fucking offended that fake Superboy is trying to convince him that any brother of his would ever settle for kissing that fucking mediocre, much less like it. As fucking if. “Why don’t you show me what you like, Hood? I’ll roll out the red carpet."

Jason should tase this piece of shit. Jason should <i>shoot</i> this piece of shit. Unfortunately, this still might be Superboy’s body even without him in it, and he didn’t pack kryptonite tonight either way. Assuming, again, that kryptonite would even work.

He’s absolutely never skipping the kryptonite again, though. Not after this bullshit. He’s going full Lex Luthor and getting himself a pair of kryptonite brass knuckles, in fact. And not in blue: he’s going green.

“You really think I wanna hear about Robin right now?” he says in the hopes the fucker will shut up a little, and fake Superboy just smirks and loops his arm around his neck, pressing fully up against him. Jason is wearing body armor, obviously, but that doesn’t make him feel particularly safe right now. The TTK alone would be an issue, even discounting Kryptonian strength. Fake Superboy could flatten him like a fucking panini with about as much effort as actually making a panini would take right now.

So like, that’s a concern.

“So still the jealous type, huh?” fake Superboy purrs, tilting his head a little. He’s much better at “come-hither” looks than he is at kissing, Jason can’t help noticing, which is fucking irritating. He’s also still got Jason’s helmet held against his hip. Jason is weirdly annoyed by that. “How about I just call you ‘Robin’ tonight, then?”

Jason did so much therapy to not have this exact fucking fucked-up sexual fantasy. Just so much.

He is definitely shooting this shithead before the night is over.

“Try it and I’ll shoot you in the fucking dick,” he says flatly, because there’s playing along and there’s shit he just cannot truck with, and fake Superboy laughs.

“Kinky,” he says approvingly. Jason thinks longingly of kryptonite.

He really, really hopes kryptonite works on this fucker. It’d have to, right? TTK isn’t exactly a standard-issue superpower; the fake’s got to at least have copied Superboy’s body, and that means copying his vulnerabilities.

Hopefully.

Of course, Jason doesn’t actually know jack shit about what’s actually going on here and narrowing it down isn’t working half as well as it could be, so . . . fuck if he actually knows if it’d work.

He really doesn’t appreciate not being prepared in a crisis. Like–that is the literal antithesis of his entire fucking approach to life, is what it is.

He’s going to need an extra therapy session this week, he’s pretty sure. Possibly several. Maybe he’ll just call his therapist first thing after they wrap this bullshit up, actually, assuming he survives it. That might be for the best.

Or literally psychologically fucking necessary so he won’t snap and turn into a literal supervillain. One or the other.

“You’re seriously overestimating my patience, Superboy,” he says flatly. The fake looks pleased, presumably because he still thinks Jason’s falling for this stupid act.

“Don’t be such a pill,” fake Superboy says, smirking at him. The idea of pistol-whipping him sounds better and better. It’s almost definitely not gonna work, yeah, but that doesn’t mean Jason wouldn’t try it. “Why don’t you just be nice to me, and I’ll give you plenty of reasons not to be jealous tonight. Or at least don’t bore me as bad as Rob’s been, if nothing else."

Jason is going to burn down . . . mmmmmaybe all of Gotham tonight, actually. Like. Just all of it. Completely. Entirely.

#anonymous #wip: jaykon soulmates and timkon datemates

87 notes · View notes

scaredycatqlt · 20 days

Note

Platonic South Park main four x reader

You don’t have to if you don’t want to!!

Remember to take care(eat,drink,sleep)

South Park! Main Four X Reader [PLATONIC]

How did you even manage to become a part of their friend group???

Like seriously?

You probably got introduced to the group through Stan, and Cartman was probably the last one to ‘warm up’ to you.

Cartman still doesn’t like you btw. But he doesn’t like anyone so whatever.

You guys get up to all sorts of wacky antics, of course you do-this is fucking South Park.

There will be times where it’s the four without you, you with Stan and Kyle, you with Cartman and Kenny (way less often I’d think.)

Hopefully you’re not as much of an asshole as the rest of them…/lh

Kenny is sweet tho <3 he’s silly.

Speaking of which, if you’re ever sad-the best person to go to is Kenny. Maybe Stan, but probably not Kyle and DEFINITELY not Cartman.

if you’re upset, Kenny would just emotionally support you and maybe try to help out. Stan would probably be really awkward but he understands. Kyle tries to reason with you, and Cartman is like “damn that sucks bro.”

Sleepovers are so fun!!!!

You guys stay up late and watch Terrance and Phillip. You all swear that you’re gonna pull an all-nighter, and less than 30 minutes later you’re all asleep on the couch.

I like to think at some point, as I stated in my Kenny headcanons, that he’s comfortable enough to just-stay at your house sometimes instead of his. Especially if your family is nice.

I feel like you’ve all murdered someone together. It was a team effort.

Whether on accident or not is up to you.

You’ve all had sleepovers at eachothers houses atleast once.

Cartman makes fun of you for literally ANYTHING. Kyle defends you though-mainly because he hates Cartman, but also because he’s not a total asshole.

Southpark sillies!!! ^^

#headcanons #south park headcanons #south park x reader #south park #platonic love #south park fandom #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #asks open #my headcanons #hcs

77 notes · View notes

heavens-moonlight · 3 months

Text

𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘

SYNOPSIS | 02 : THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

Author’s Note: The following chapter will be where the misery starts but I wanted to build character and friendship dynamics here first. Updates won't be as frequent (because of one word: life) but I have pre-written a lot for this drama already so I'll see this work to the end! Hopefully this is enjoyable so far, and feel free to let me know what you think (or what you want to see in future chapters)! Until next time! ♡

"THE INNOCENT CIVILIANS HAVE LOST, AND THE MAFIA WON!"

Your heavy palpebrae that moments earlier masked your vision in dimness, adorned with a trace of gentle sleepiness, slowly flutters open at the announcement, eyes emerging from the veil of unconsciousness. Finding yourself awakening with an overwhelming and unshakeable wave of trepidation washing over you, your chest tightens in palpable distress. The heaviness pales no less in comparison to the weight of an anvil sinking down atop your sternum, lungs punctured by bowed bones.

You sit there in a state of unease, mind racing with apprehension and discomposure, searching for answers to the troubling sensation coursing through your body. The sense of foreboding grips your heart tightly like an invisible vice, leaving you breathless and unable to shake off the unwanted feeling.

In a haste, you slide open the window beside you, the glass screeching against rubber weatherstrips expanded by scorching summer heat. Through the humidity, a light breeze brushes past, breathing air and life back into you. It's not hard to recognize the way your subconscious whispers insistently that something is amiss, the combination of uncertainty and uneasiness blending together into something you can't decipher.

Your hand comes to rest against your chest, heart pounding strongly and ceaselessly against your ribcage, almost as though wanting to escape from its confines. It sends you reeling, akin to an out of body experience. For some unexplained reason, confusion clouds your thoughts as you struggle to clear the thick shroud of fog encasing your entire being, the mist muddling and settling deep within you. A haunting sense of premonition creeps over as if some elapsed memory shares in its ominous secrets. Yet, try as you might, you could not uncover the source of this inexplicable anxiety. You're left clueless except for the empty feeling both in your mind and soul, like you have forgotten something important.

When your breathing returns to normal and your pulse has settled back into its regular rhythmic beat, you shake your head to clear it of the sudden upsetting thoughts. Only then do you realize you had fallen asleep at one point, head tilted back against the warm and worn peeling leather seats of the bus. The sound of loud conversations and even louder hum of the engine, the smell of smoke, and the bump of the vehicle's wheels on uneven pavement brings with it a gentle sway of movement that returns to you a sense of comfort you can't put into words.

Glancing down at your lap, you notice that you had left the entirety of a horror movie playing on your phone, the end credits having long since rolled endlessly, words drenched in red blinking cursorily across the screen. You rarely experienced nightmares, not even after indulging in disturbing content, and certainly not when it's broad daylight out still. So then, why now?

The sound of a book plopping down to the ground pulls you out of your reverie and you lean forward to pick it up, folding it closed to survey the front cover.

흰나비의 살인.

The White Butterfly's Murder.

You smile to yourself. It was so like Yoon-Seo to read a murder mystery on a school trip, the same exact one you had gifted to her only yesterday for her birthday. A love of thriller was what brought you both to be such good friends in the first place, and it didn't seem those like-minded interests would diverge any time soon.

"Yoon-Seo ah..." Scooting forward in your seat, you lightly tap her on the shoulder and she jolts upright, turning back to look at you, unreasonably startled, a shiver running down her spine. "What's wrong?" Your grin drops slightly at her growing restlessness, face now pale as if she had encountered an apparition. Her eyes shift back and forth, guarded for a microsecond before snapping back into her usual self.

Yoon-Seo takes noticeably deep inhales, drawing the attention of Jung-Won, her seat mate for the ride, who pauses mid-coding to look over, displeased.

"What did you dream of?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Han Seol-Hwa. Lee Yoon-Seo.” Jung-Won clicks her tongue teasingly, pointing a finger from you to Yoon-Seo. “I'm making it a rule that you guys stay away from blood, murders, and deaths this trip, alright?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "Alright, I promise you eomma. No more nagging Yoon-Seo and I."

Jung-Won scowls at you playfully, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and you stick out your tongue in her direction impishly. Yoon-Seo laughs quietly at the exchange as you hand her back her book.

"Thanks, Seol-Hwa."

"Tell me all about it later when we've arrived." Despite muttering it under your breath to avoid being heard by Jung-Won, you fail miserably.

"Seriously?!"

You and Yoon-Seo laugh together as Jung-Won goes on a tangent about how psychologically, scary things are not good for young, impressionable minds, fingers click-clacking away all the while. Fortunately preoccupied, she doesn't notice Yoon-Seo sending you a wink, a hidden promise between you two to indulge in the realm of the supernatural regardless.

A resounding and victorious scream travels all the way from the back of the bus and you turn around to observe the friend group seated there.

"See?! I told you all Yool was the Mafia! Let's play again," Eun-Ha says, arms crossed. "You idiots never listen to me, do you?" She slaps both Yeon-Woo and Eun-Chan on the back of their heads as petty punishment.

"What can I say? You simply can't kill the master." Yool leans back, legs thrown atop the headrest of the seat in front, a proud smile stretched across his face.

As they're about to commence another game, Jin-Ha gets relayed a message through Seung-Bin. "Tell them that Kyung-Jun is sleeping and to shut the hell up."

"YAH!" The random shout is so out of place and entirely uncalled for, but it's effective for the time being. "Kyung-Jun is sleeping," Jin-Ha parrots, obedient. "You guys are always so fucking loud that we can hear you before we can see you!" Met with blank stares all around, he's finally satisfied at the reduction in volume and goes back to looking at something Seung-Bin points out to him on his phone. Unbeknownst to him, the rest switch to eyeing him in disfavor behind his back.

It wasn't hard to see the hierarchy of the bullies' group, although Jin-Ha most likely doesn't notice anything wrong with the skewed power dynamics.

Kyung-Jun unpredictably opens his eyes, turning to glare at Heo Yool specifically, but when he swivels back around again, your eyes meet coincidentally and he simply stares, an unreadable expression on his face. You avert your gaze hastily, not wanting to stir up trouble with the bullies, especially not Kyung-Jun who was quick to anger if someone so much as breathed wrongly in his direction.

Your eyes search the rest of the bus lazily before landing on Jun-Hee, sleeping peacefully unaware, head tilted towards the window. The sunlight bathes him in a soft yellow glow and you can't help but stare as a single ray of light filters through the curtains, slanting lightly across his face. You etch every slope, every contour, and every dip of his countenance behind your eyes so that the image of him doesn't fade.

The comfortable rise and fall of Jun-Hee's chest, synchronized with his steady breathing is so serene that it captivates your heart. In high noon, the gentle curves of his face seem even more soft, accentuated by the calmness enveloping his features. Fondly, you observe him in the morning's bright golden haze, and in the beauty of the falling sunbeams, you wonder if he'd ever see you in the same way.

A rolled-up piece of paper hits you square in the face and you finally drag your gaze away long enough to see who it is. Whipping your head around, you're met with snickers from Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun, who don't even try to hide they're the culprits.

You're being obvious. Hyun-Ho mouths the words discernibly. Just sit next to him if you're going to gawk.

You chuck the paper ball back toward him and it smacks him in the mouth, your nose scrunching up in focus mixed with annoyance.

"I think that's the most creative way I've ever seen someone being told to shut up," Dong-Hyun voices approvingly, shooting you two thumbs up.

"Are you my friend or hers?" Hyun-Ho asks childishly, somewhat snubbed.

"To be honest, she can be more frightening than you at times even though she's half your size."

You giggle to yourself as the two start squabbling in their seats across the aisle from Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo.

For the most part, after having transferred to Yooil High, you were fairly well-liked by everyone for your just and nonjudgmental attitude. That, and you pretty much kept to yourself, stayed out of trouble, and knew not to dig your nose in other's business if it didn't concern you. You weren't popular by any means, but not a single person had a true reason to dislike you and you hoped to continue that track record.

By a stroke of bad luck, your parents died a few years ago in a car accident, and you've been living with your cousin Hyun-Ho ever since, adopted by your aunt and uncle-in-law. They have been nothing short of welcoming and loving, and the same goes for Hyun-Ho, who acts no less like your real brother. Sure, he's annoying at times but it's just his overprotective nature and ease of accepting the older sibling role. You got on quite quickly with Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won, and Hyun-Ho made sure you adapted to his own friend group, introducing you to his best friends Jun-Hee and Dong-Hyun. You loved your companions dearly, all incredibly close and inseparable ever since you could remember.

But you couldn't remember when you began to see Jun-Hee as more than that.

Friends.

It's not the first, and it certainly won't be the last time you remind yourself of that fact.

Just friends. Nothing more and nothing less.

Except, you're not the only who was harboring feelings for him. Where you were quiet and discreet about it, So-Mi is loud and unabashed. It's hard to ignore and pretend you don't hear her snapping pictures of Jun-Hee shamelessly and without permission, the shutter ticking in quick succession.

"Isn't this crazy? It's like a photoshoot, right? How does he look like that? Even while sleeping?" So-Mi rattles off questions in awe, more to herself than anyone else.

Woo Ram doesn't miss a beat in his reply. "I'll tell Jun-Hee about your crazy obsession with him."

"Could you, please?" So-Mi widens her eyes, batting her lashes imploringly. "I'll use that as an opportunity to tempt him."

You hear Ji-Soo's laugh ring out brash and clear. "This delusional girl, seriously..." she chides. "You've been saying that since last year. When will you actually find the courage to tell him?"

That's the question you ask yourself also. You don't blame So-Mi. Sometimes, you think it might be better to not have been best friends with him. It only complicates your feelings further, too afraid to ruin years of friendship, but also too filled with wishful thinking on the mere possibility of it growing into anything beyond that.

Sighing, you turn to look out the window, trying your best to tune out their conversation even though it doesn't work. There's not much to hold your attention when the scenery is endless stretches of barren trees and even emptier infrastructure, or lack thereof, rolling by.

The setting sun dyes everything in a blaze of orange, making it appear as if the city was burning, the sky collapsing.

"Seduce him now," Yu-Jun taunts, voice giving way to his utter lack of confidence in So-Mi's coquetting abilities, knowing full well the impossibility that the two would ever end up together.

"Cut it out! It will happen soon...just not here." So-Mi tries to shush her friends as they holler at Jun-Hee teasingly, with all intent to wake him up.

Woo-Ram and Yu-Jun successfully manage to rouse him if the sound of So-Mi's indignant squeals is anything to go by, coupled with the unmistakable clicking of her phone's camera shutter, pressed by accident this time around.

Somewhere in between listening and musing, you had begun to doze off again when you feel the seat shift and sink beside yours. The movement is so light and careful that you don't pay it any notice at first.

"Hey, I thought when you flirt with someone, they're supposed to come to you and not away from you." Ji-Soo's snickers mix in with So-Mi's annoyed remarks aren't as jarring as you thought it'd be after everyone was subjected to the silent rule earlier.

You feel your head droop forward before someone touches the side of your face gently, fingers grazing the curve of your cheek to angle your head into the broad line of their shoulder.

The pads of their fingers trace the underside of your jaw in a featherlight motion, and you lift your face in alarm, curious as to who would do such a thing especially if they weren't necessarily close to you

Eyes trailing upward, your vision refocuses and they widen at the sight of Jun-Hee staring down at you, gaze soft and unwavering as he stares, transfixed, pupils shining. One hand is hanging in midair, held steady to shield your face from the sun.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out, a frozen expression of surprise on your visage.

Jun-Hee's lips tilt slightly upward, the motion bunching his cheeks up, almost as if he was trying hard to suppress his laugh.

Pulling yourself together, you sit up properly and lean away from his shoulder. "Sorry."

You don't notice Jun-Hee's smile dropping imperceptibly and the light in his eyes dimming as you're no longer within close proximity. "Why are you apologizing?"

"It's nothing." The response is too dismissive even to your own ears as you can't conjure up an excuse for the sudden pretense, or for your outlandish behavior.

It would be quite a long bus ride, sitting next to each other, both not knowing what to say.

The space between Jun-Hee's eyebrows crease together in confusion, but he doesn't push the matter further.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting in your seat to sit on your hands. When did simply talking to him become so hard to do? You've hidden your feelings for years without problem, so why was it so different now? Those feelings changed and grew. "When did you come to sit here? Weren't you just sleeping earlier?"

Jun-Hee knocks his shoulder into yours, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You were watching me?"

"Pft, as if," You deny with lackluster confidence, scoffing. "I was just observing what everyone was doing."

"Right..." He elongates the word. "...And what I was doing was sleeping. That you watched." Jun-Hee looks at you again, a deadpan but knowing look on his face. Flustered, you duck your head only for him to mirror the movement, subtly leaning his own toward yours and trying to catch your eye. It ends up with him chortling as your forehead nearly collides with your knees in the slouched over position you had subjected yourself to.

Knowing full well you were being made fun of without a hint of malice, you twist your body sideways and lean your back against the window, turning to him with a glare. "Is this fun to you?"

As he laughs, you find yourself wanting to follow suit, but stick to the bit of maintaining your mock angry façade, slapping him on the arm. If anything, he continues to chuckle, barely flinching, finding your reaction rather amusing.

"Don't worry. I promise I didn't sneak any pictures." It quickly registers to you that he was clearly teasing So-Mi for earlier. You can't help the scandalized look on your face, cheeks puffing out as you try to hold in your laugh. "I guess you did notice a camera being pressed up to your face, huh?"

"Kind of hard not to with all the noise." He shakes his head in annoyance. "But I am still sleepy." Jun-Hee pulls your arm so that you're pressed against his side again, no semblance of space remaining between the two of you as he lowers himself, sinking further down into the seat, eyes shut and head now leaning against your shoulder.

"Jun-Hee..."

"Let me borrow your shoulder for a little while."

You're about to pull away, thinking he's playing around when his grip tightens on your arm.

"Think of it as returning the favor from earlier. We can call it even."

Making a vague sound of neutrality but not moving, you relax, and Jun-Hee lessens his hold, adjusting his position to be more comfortable. "Are you going to watch this time too?" His hand squeezes your forearm once.

"Dream on," you kid.

"Maybe I will," he answers with certainty. "Until it becomes reality."

"I didn't know you were this affectionate with everyone."

"Not just anyone. Only you," Jun-Hee mumbles, tilting his head further into the crook of your neck. His lips move dangerously close to the juncture of your shoulder, your pulse point centimeters away as he shifts around, finding the most relaxing spot to rest.

"Don't say things you don't mean." You can't bite your tongue fast enough as the words tumble out unprompted. That was supposed to be an inside thought no one else should be privy to but yourself.

"Who says I don't mean it?" You tense up beside him, at a loss for words, but Jun-Hee doesn't point it out, more than not nice enough to ignore it for your sake. "I'm self-proclaimed as your favorite." He bumps his knee against yours. "I know you better than anyone else."

"Do you, though?"

"...Of course, I do."

But you don't know that I'm already halfway in love with you.

"On what basis, mister?"

"Best friend privileges."

"Right..."

You stare down at the top of his head, Jun-Hee unaware of your blatant staring and the way your smile fades at the same time one appears on his face.

"That's acceptable, no?"

"Of course, it is. Best friends. That's what we are..." You trail off.

And I guess that's all we'll ever be.

Hours later, the sky has since darkened and you can see the visible outline of the full moon on high, light not concealed by the stars weakly glimmering to illuminate the night.

Most, if not the entirety, of the students on the bus were asleep, except for you and your two lovable, but mischievous best friends sitting in front of you.

Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won peer over the back of their seats like cute meerkats, only their eyes visible, phones raised suspiciously in your direction.

"You're welcome in advance," Yoon-Seo says cheekily, showing the widest grin you've ever seen on her, eyes crinkling as Jung-Won stifles her laugh behind her hand. At your persistent eye signals, they sink back down into their seats, satisfied after overfilling their camera rolls.

As the bus slows down, indicating that your class was nearing your destination, the road gradually begins to get rougher and bumpier. It's a surprise Jun-Hee still hasn't woken up yet, sleeping soundly away still leaning on you.

Deciding to mess around with him, you slightly pivot your body so it's facing him, leaving enough room for his head to not fall off your shoulder.

"Jun-Hee," you call, tilting your head down in front of his.

"Jun-Hee ah." The bus is rocking him, lolling his head forward along with the movement, his face nearly downturned.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Your shoulder is no longer acting as support when you turn your face directly below his and peer up, tilting your head like he had done to you miles back, smiling at his obliviousness to the harmless prank, peacefully undisturbed in his slumber.

"Kim Jun—" The bus lurches abruptly, running over a speed bump the driver misses, and your words die in your throat as it jostles Jun-Hee's body forward and consequently his head toward your own, his lips meeting yours. The next slope in the road, and the fleeting press of the accidental kiss fades away, but the butterflies in your stomach refuse to settle.

You're motionless, eyes wide, hands immediately coming up to touch your lips where they're still tingling from the lingering imprint of Jun-Hee's lips against your own, barely registering just how close his face is to yours still, remaining asleep all the same.

"Kids, we're here!"

Your teacher's announcement snaps you out of your thoughts and you hurriedly sit back as Jun-Hee's eyelids sluggishly part, the first thing they focus on is you. He grins drowsily, and you wonder what can truly fix the irreparable damage to your heart.

Get a grip, Han Seol-Hwa.

Forcing a smile that you hope isn't as awkward as it feels onto your face, you decidedly withhold the truth about the incident.

"That was the best sleep I've had in a while," Jun-Hee tells you, leaning closer to be heard over the ruckus of everyone moving around in their seats, wanting to alight the bus the moment it stops.

You scoot back reflexively with your face aflame, still not over what had happened.

Jun-Hee also pulls away, worry mixed with bewilderment evident on his face. "Are you alright?"

"What do you mean?" You cringe internally at how guilty the tone of your voice comes out.

"It's just..." Jun-Hee regards you for a moment, studying your face as you avoid his searching eyes. "You've been acting a little weird since this morning."

"I'm tired is all," you lie through your teeth.

"If I—"

Suddenly So-Mi appears next to the two of you in the aisle, eyeing you up and down judgingly. "Jun-Hee, the teacher said he wants to talk to us."

As Jun-Hee gets up but doesn't reply, you swiftly scoot out of your own seat and attempt to scurry away to where Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won are waiting for you by the wheel, wanting to avoid the dreaded conversation you knew was sure to follow.

So-Mi dismisses your presence completely, standing into the empty space between the rows in an effort to block Jun-Hee off.

His eyes count your steps and before you can move even a feet away, he grabs ahold of you, fingers wrapping securely but tenderly around your wrist. Your pulse quickens beneath your skin, and you wonder if he can feel how rapidly it bounds under his touch.

"Seol-Hwa—"

Jun-Hee appears a bit dejected for some reason you'd rather not dwell upon. You gaze down at his grasp on you before turning to face him.

"Didn't you hear me?" So-Mi interjects, trying to make him focus on her by stepping into his line of vision, but his eyes remain fixed only on you. "Seonsaengnim needs both of us for something."

Your fingers graze Jun-Hee's as you slowly remove his hand, much to his reluctance. To the bitter distaste of So-Mi, he doesn't seem like he'll go along with her any time soon. She directs her glare at you once more, and you sigh quietly, not wanting to be in the middle of this interaction one bit.

"I'll see you later Jun-Hee."

"Wait—" He tries to grab your hand again, but So-Mi is quick to turn his shoulder away, making up filler dialogue.

Given the slip unintentionally, you speed walk toward your friends, and the three of you descend the steps. You feel Jun-Hee's stare burn through the back of your head yet refuse to turn around.

Maybe if you leave everything that happened on the bus and the thoughts along with it, you'll go back to being yourself soon enough.

The teacher is pacing the edge of the curb looking perturbed, voice frustrated as he speaks into the phone, the person on the other end not comprehending a single word.

Before you can tune into what he's saying, Yoon-Seo taps you on the forearm, whispering, "Have we been here? Why do I feel like I have? It's so familiar..."

"All the youth centers look the same," Jung-Won settles, rummaging through her backpack. "Yoon-Seo, Seol-Hwa, I'm heading in first. See you inside."

You wave to her as Yoon-Seo stands beside you, unmoving and gazing up at the third-floor window of the building.

"Yoon-Seo...?" You move your hand back and forth in front of her face, and she finally blinks, her gaze returning to normal.

"What is it?" she responds absentmindedly.

"That's what I should be asking you." You halt at the blank expression on her face staring back at you.

"I thought I saw something..." She points at the window but when you look, squinting against the dark to focus your eyes, all you can see is the white curtains billowing back and forth from the window barely cracked open.

"It's only the wind. Your mind is probably playing tricks on you." Yoon-Seo seems assured by your answer for the time being, nodding. You rap on her head lightly with a loose fist, mock admonishing. "Aigoo, Miss Detective. The books are taking over your imagination."

Yoon-Seo laughs and shoves you playfully. "Don't act like you don't also live and breathe all things horror."

"But I'm not the one seeing things, am I?" Raising your eyebrows at her teasingly, Yoon-Seo simply rolls her eyes and links her arm with yours.

"Come on, let's go. It's cold out here, and I want to see the rest of this place."

The two of you enter the lobby, and the first thing you take note of is the pure white marble statue of a girl, sitting atop a pillar and staring down into nothingness, eyes soulless and devoid of emotion. It’s melancholic in a way, a personified goddess, yet alone and ostensibly powerless.

"Yoon-Seo, don't you think those eyes remind you of anyone?" You fix your gaze on the figurine closely, examining the features etched haphazardly into the rock. Whatever intention the sculptor had, you couldn't find the purpose for the seemingly out of place decor.

Yoon-Seo nudges you. "Now who's the one with the wild imagination?"

"I'm being serious here."

"I don't see any resemblance to anyone we could possibly know. There's no informative plaque on who it may be either."

You shrug. "Maybe it's just me then."

"Aren't you two going to scan?" Jung-Won ushers you and Yoon-Seo toward the flyer:

[ sᴄᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ǫʀ ᴄᴏᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪ-ғɪ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsᴛᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴘᴘ ᴀᴜᴛᴏᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ]

"This place has an app? What for?" you question.

"Hmm, I'll just stick to this paper booklet they have instead." Yoon-Seo decides quickly, rifling through the readily available printed maps.

"You'll have to lead me around," you say in all earnestness. "I'm very direction disoriented."

Jung-Won doesn't even try to hide her smile. "We can tell."

"It's not my fault I was born like this." You dramatically fall back onto Yoon-Seo. "Would you two really lead me astray as my best friends?"

Yoon-Seo giggles behind you. "No way. We saw how dazed you were getting off the bus earlier. You need all the help you can get."

Jung-Won snickers, shaking her head while dragging you and Yoon-Seo through the double doors of the gymnasium where the rest were gathered.

Everyone is off scattered into their own respective friend groups, your trio throwing your backpacks haphazardly on the floor before sitting against the wall of bleachers yet to be pulled out.

Jun-Hee and So-Mi enter shortly after with the teacher, engaged in a discussion. You look away before they can notice, and focus on the girls attempting to practice for their performance instead, Woo-Ram filming their efforts. Joo-Young pushes Mi-Na out of her spotlight and steals it openly, not that Woo-Ram minded. If anything, he holds the camera ever-sturdier, a newfound excitement apparent this time around as he zooms into her face. His happiness is short-lived however, as Kyung-Joon turns off the speakers nonchalantly, forcing the girls to start over from the beginning, much to their irritation.

Despite what you decided on earlier, you can't help but throw glances over in Jun-Hee's direction. He's seated at the table reserved for school council members by the entryway, overlooking everyone as So-Mi talks his ear off, undeterred by his indifference.

"Stop staring. You're going to wear away his pretty face," Yoon-Seo jokes from your left.

"I wasn't staring," you reply back half-committally, knowing she's caught you in the act.

"You totally were," Jung-Won joins in, slowly leaning her head on your right shoulder. "Let me borrow your shoulder while I code."

"If she's allowed, I should be too," Yoon-Seo copies, mirroring Jung-Won from your left side.

"Careful, that one's Jun-Hee's. You'll have to wait your turn, Yoon-Seo."

"Oh my god," you groan, embarrassed, hiding your face into your hands as the two laugh beside you, kicking your feet from both sides with theirs. "You two are merciless."

"Are you going to deprive me of the best sleep I'll ever have?" Yoon-Seo snuggles closer, hugging you tightly to her.

"Yah! Lee Yoon-Seo!"

You had the intention of taking Jun-Hee off your mind by hanging out with your friends, only for you to see bits of his personality in Yoon-Seo, their long-time friendship having had them taking on one another's mannerisms.

"I'm using my best friend privileges." Jung-Won pats you on the knee. "Stay still."

As Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won squish into you from both sides, you can't help but giggle at the sheer absurdity of the reenactment and their dedication to coming up with jokes on the fly. You try to fight back the onslaught of laughter, but it's entirely pointless in their presence. Traitorously, your eyes crinkle in mirth, half-crescents resting atop your cheeks as your laugh tinkles in the shared space, making the other two giggle along, shaking with glee where they're pressed against you.

Jung-Won eventually caves and sits up properly when all the hooting you and Yoon-Seo are doing keeps rattling her laptop, messing up her coding. A permanent smile sits on her face though, watching you two bicker.

"Jung-Won, help, I need my inhaler. I can't breathe from laughing so much," Yoon-Seo gasps out, holding her stomach.

"I'm not getting it for you."

"I can't believe you would tease me at the expense of your asthma." You push Yeon-Seo away, sniggering as she goes back to clinging onto your arm and laying her head back on your shoulder.

Jung-Won turns to look at you and Yoon-Seo briefly, her eyes shifting to the side momentarily, a ghost of a smile settling on her lips before she resumes attention to her laptop. "Don't look but Jun-Hee is watching."

Right as she says that, you make to move your head, but Yoon-Seo expects it and holds your chin in place with her hand, pinching your cheeks playfully.

"I said don't look!" Jung-Won chuckles.

It throws Yoon-Seo into another fit of giggles as you try to speak through your puckered lips. She releases her hand quickly after, and you drop your head to lean on the crown of hers, giving up.

You elbow Jung-Won in her side. "Were you messing with me?"

"Why would I?" she says innocently, typing away.

You look at her pointedly. "Yeah, you totally wouldn't."

Jung-Won holds her hands up in a motion of surrender. "I'm not this time, really. Seeing So-Mi angry is my favorite past-time."

"So mean," Yoon-Seo sing-songs.

"And you had no part in this?" You poke Yoon-Seo in the cheek. "Who told you to have an annoyingly cute and kind best friend?"

"You mean you?"

"You know what I mean."

"It's true."

"Guess I'll have a crush on you instead."

Yoon-Seo chortles with laughter. "So, you do admit you like him!"

"I didn't say that!"

"I read between the lines."

“It was one line!”

"This really sucks," Jung-Won says off-handedly, scrolling through the app. "I can make something like this in a day."

"Huh?" Yoon-Seo inquires, lost.

"You really didn't scan the QR code earlier? It was installed automatically. Give me your phone. I'll do it for you."

"No, it's okay. I'll get by. It's a short trip."

"I wouldn't put it past Yoon Seo to carry around the paper map for two whole days," you jest.

"Careful, you can't even navigate well, Seol-Hwa."

Jung-Won snorts at Yoon-Seo's jab.

"You got me there. If you tell me to walk back the way we came from I'd probably end up walking in the opposite direction."

Yoon-Seo shakes her head in fond disbelief.

"I'm not getting any signals in here." Jung-Won holds her phone up high, arm stretching.

While you watch as Jung-Won moves her device around to figure out the cause of the lost signal and no connection to Wi-Fi, Yool rushes past, making a mad run for the storage room. Adjacent to the bleachers where you and your friends were sitting, he flings the door open with purpose and digs through the contents of the room. Various apparatus gets upended from their designated places, the speed and sheer amount of hiking gear, equipment for ball sports, as well as other items meant for the gymnasium flying out from the doorway is nothing short of the effects in a comedic cartoon. Knowing how much of a jokester Yool was, you pay it no mind and turn back to the task at hand.

You pull out your own phone to try and locate even one bar of cell phone service, only to be met with the message that the vicinity was an unserviceable area. "That's weird. We're not in a remote place or anything like that. What happens if the power goes out, then?"

Right as you say that, static from the speakers produces head-splitting screeches, causing everyone to recoil with palms over their ears in annoyance, the lights flashing once before cutting out.

With everyone fearing the worst, a few remain unmoving while screams of the rest bounce off the walls, echoing in the spacious room. You and Yoon-Seo however, have no reaction, more curious than anything else.

"Why did you turn the lights off?" Someone you can't put a name to probes in the dark. "Turn them back on!"

Following in haste after one another, the students make good use of their phone flashlights, aiming it at the court's center, revealing a figure cloaked in white standing as clear as day amidst the obscurity of the room.

While the majority cower in fear, clutching onto their friends, Hyun-Ho imperturbably throws a basketball at the unknown prowler, knocking them over in one go.

"Ouch!"

The white sheet is flung off theatrically, and out crawls a disheveled but cackling Yool.

"Aish, seriously," Hyun-Ho admonishes. "Quit goofing around."

Kicking the blanket to the side away from his feet, Yool raises his hands up in the air dramatically, acting to the end. Not a single person has managed to find the overhead lights in the meantime, the only ones illuminating the outline of his thin frame were the stage bulbs operating on a different circuit.

"While I have your attention, you guys have to listen up," he begins conspiratorially. "I heard a harrowing tale that's been passed down to everyone who steps foot into this building." Yool looks from one classmate to the next, more serious than he's ever been. "They say a female high school student took her own life here." He continues on as gasps and murmurs spring up around you. "There are things you absolutely can't do." He waggles his pointer finger dramatically for emphasis. "Don't look back after glancing in the mirror past midnight, and ignore it even if someone were to grab your ankle while you are asleep. If you don't follow these rules..." Yool pauses for staged effect before walking in broken steps like he’s possessed, arms and legs bent in odd angles, rushing straight toward the dancers still seated on the floor.

"...YOU'LL SEE A GHOST!"

Shrieks pierce the room as someone manages to flip the lights on again with perfect timing, ending Yool's one-man show.

Jung-Won clucks her tongue while you and Yoon-Seo look at one another. You were expecting her to be as nonchalant as you were, all her readings considered, but she's staring straight ahead, spooked.

"Earth to Yoon-Seo?" You touch her hand and she flinches, causing you to jump as well from her unexpected reaction.

"Huh?" She whips her head toward you, still zoned out. "Sorry." A forced smile settles on her face, an infrequent sight to her usual bright demeanor. "Don't worry, it just felt like deja vu for a minute."

"You said something similar earlier. Are you sure you're doing okay?" Your voiced is laced with worry.

"See, this is why I told you two to tone it down with the heebie-jeebies. You're only scaring yourselves." Jung-Won pats your head and then Yoon-Seo's in turn. "We should go to our rooms anyway. They all have too much energy they can't wait to waste away," Jung-Won states, gesturing to everyone milling about.

"Let's go?" You pull Yoon-Seo up, and she nods in return, reassuring you that she was finally present and not off and away in her thoughts.

As the three of you leave, your ears perk up at the last thing you hear Yool say.

"Did you guys really believe it?" His sentence is cut by a boisterous laugh, pleased to no end at the affirmative from his friends. "Eyy, come on now, it was just an innocent and fake joke. None of us are going to die. Not tonight and not for a long time to come."

SYNOPSIS | 02 : THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

118 notes · View notes