#if you'd like to add on go ahead

[theamphibianmen]

"low support needs disabled people are often not believed to have a disability at all and therefore struggle to get accommodations."

"high support needs disabled people's accommodations are often seen as 'too much' and therefore are not met."

"neurodivergent people's needs are often dismissed because nothing is physically wrong with them."

"physically disabled people people often cannot physically access buildings and people refuse to do anything about it."

"invisibly disabled people are seen as lazy by society."

"visibly disabled people are ostracized from society."

IT'S ALMOST LIKE THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE DISABILITY

[gender-critical-analytical]

the way some of you clearly think bisexuals don't experience actual attraction and feelings for people, but rather decide ahead of time if they want a man or a woman this time and then just go and pick whoever comes into their line of sight next is so obvious and definitely makes me think you all don't need to speak on things you don't know about

[todayisafridaynight]

Throwing in fun (not fun) facts to contribute esp bc I was tagged in the essay: (Sorry in advance this is literally my career and special interest AND I just got back from a training conference about this SO obv I am going to talk too much. Disclosure: These statistics are from peer-reviewed sources AND the National Children's Alliance. The NCA IS an American association, though, so take this all with a grain of salt bc we're applying it to someone whose bg is not American lmao. This is an essay for funsies. CW: discussion of and stats about CSA, Child Abuse) Relevant to the Jo stuff is also that victims of one/any kind of abuse are statistically much more likely to subsequently face overlapping abuse, so knowing he comes from a home where abuse and potential neglect was actively occurring sets Jo-boy up for some sad statistics. I am looking for my notes on the stats for that but it's something stupid high, I wanna say over 30 or 40%.

Additionally, 47%~ of CSA victims are revictimized. Abysmal statistic but mostly just an interesting note if this IS the case/if we choose to interpret Jo this way bc of the other things mentioned in Masu's ask, specifically if we're viewing his unhealthy and ultimately traumatic relationship with Ikumi as a potential example of that revictimization (similarly, coming from a like background, it may have been revictimizing for Ikumi if she had ever experienced something like CSA, as well. It's one of those cases where they both got hurt even if neither of them were at fault for "playing house" as Jo calls it).

Seconding/Adding on to Masu's thoughts about Jo's behavior being as self-destructive as it is because of the compounded trauma of his life, victims of adolescent abuse "engage in health-risk behaviors such as substance use, physical fighting, and risky sexual activity," in far higher numbers than non-victims. We know for facts that adolescent Jo checks at least 2 of those 3 boxes, and that he still puts himself in unnecessary danger as a full grown adult (the Heian Tower fight, and Hoshino's Office fight): An interesting and well-written cycle of trauma and abuse on RGGs part, tbh, but also so narratively telling about how he saw/sees/continues to see himself as more an object than a person. (Love your notes on that btw, it rings very true. I could write an essay on that alone tbh.)

Another weird little thing I notice from both a Doyalist AND Watsonian perspective: Jo's disclosure of his father's abuse would classify as what we call an "accidental disclosure" in the field even though it's clearly intentional that he shares it with Ichi - it's offhanded and markedly unimportant in the story he's telling. He says it passively in a literary sense, as well: "The only thing waiting for me at home was my father's fists." Like homie, that's the most roundabout way you could have said "My dad beat me." Interestingly, up to 50% of [specifically CSA] victims do not state outright that abuse occurs, but disclose it accidentally/offhandedly; and in general, accidental disclosure is more common among people who have also delayed disclosure. Up to 66% of admissions from victims of child abuse come delayed if they come at all.

I think it's a very in-character remark of him to make, but statistically, it lines up with other victims of abuse as a whole. I think it's also just cool that from the Doyalist perspective, writing his lines in this way was intentional. It's part of the whole "Everything Jo says sounds like it could mean more than one thing" thing. He speaks poetically - it's intentional not just for the character but for the writer.

Okay, I'm done for now I'm sorry I just wanted to throw some added stuff into the convo bc I love applying my everyday usage of adolescent-focused trauma care and pysch shit to blorbos and seeing what sticks. Anyway, I also have a shit ton of thoughts on Masumi Arakawa as an abuse survivor but THATS another essay I won't dig into now. If I am still in your good graces after this long ass spiel I will consider it not only amazing but perhaps even cool as hell.

[ continuity of this ask ]

[drewsephrry]

Love Island - Episode 1: Welcome to the Villa

series masterlist

pairings: rafe cameron x reader

words: 7.1k

warnings: sexual innuendos, cuss words, alcohol consumption

The sun rises over the sparkling villa, casting a golden glow across the shimmering pool. The soft hum of waves crashing in the distance mixes with the faint chirping of birds, setting the stage for a summer of romance and surprises. Lush greenery surrounds the villa, its vibrant colors reflecting the energy of the Islanders who have just arrived.

Y/N stands among the other girls, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation tightening her chest. Her fingers fidget with the ring on her hand, a tell-tale sign of her anxiety. She glances at the others, their faces lighting up as Ariana Madix approaches.

“Welcome, girls, to Love Island! I hope you're all excited!” Ariana exclaims, her positive energy contagious. The group erupts in giggles and excited squeals, but Y/N remains reserved, her smile small yet sincere.

“Okay, so things are a little different this year…” Ariana's voice cuts through the chatter. The girls exchange looks of confusion and curiosity. Y/N shifts on her feet, her mind racing. Different could mean anything.

“Elaborate!” Sarah yells as the girls chuckle and even Ariana joins.

“You all thought that you'd be stepping forward for the boys that you fancy the most, yeah? However, this is Love Island and you never know what to expect.” The girls wait in anticipation. “For the first time ever we asked the public to play cupid and pick the boy they thought you should couple up with.”

The girls all are shocked as they look at each other. Y/N’s heart sinks and soars simultaneously. A mix of relief and dread washes over her. No pressure to choose, but what if the public got it wrong?

“Oh my god! He's gonna be short, gonna have no tattoos, ugly.” Kiara says, crossing the lines between humor and honesty. The girls chuckle at her reaction.

“How are you feeling? Is this a good thing? The decision is out of your hands, it's up to the public so, are you not happy?” Ariana asks, the girls giggle.

“I can't see any good in this. This is like the worst situation for me. I'm shitting it.” Cleo exclaims with Kiara nodding, agreeing with her.

“How are you feeling about this twist, Y/N?” Ariana’s voice breaks her thoughts and she blinks glancing around.

“Yeah, no, I don't know. It would probably be nerve-wracking for the boys to choose among these gorgeous girls.” She says pointing at the girls beside her, as they all giggle. Maddy shoves her playfully.

“You too, hon.” Maddy adds and Y/N shakes her head, smiling.

“But I guess it's a good thing. I don't know. We're just gonna have to wait and see.” Y/N smirks and Ariana nods, as she reads her card.

“Are you ready to meet our first boy? I am so excited, I can't wait any longer. Please meet JJ.” She introduces as JJ emerges from the villa.

JJ walks out with his flirty attitude, charming all of the girls, including Ariana before she announces that the public has paired him up with Maddy. Y/N claps along with the others as he rushes to Maddy, giving her a side hug. They seem happy, as she smiles and looks ahead to the presenter.

“Are you happy with this decision? JJ, how about you? You good to give things a go?” Ariana asks and JJ nods, his hand finding a place on Maddy’s waist.

“I'm happy. Yeah, definitely.” He replies.

“You got no choice!” Maddy teases and he chuckles nodding.

“True, true.”

Ariana smiles and looks down at her cards again, before moving ahead.

“Okay, 4 single girls left, are you ready to meet our next boy?” She asks and the girls nod “Here is Rafe!”

The nerves in Y/N’s stomach double as Ariana introduces the next boy. The name barely registers before he emerges. He has buzzed hair, piercing cerulean eyes that glint under the sunlight, as they scan the line of girls. Y/N feels her breath catch. His toned physique is impossible to ignore, but it is the sharp yet boyish smile tugging at his lips that sends her pulse racing.

“Hello and welcome to Love Island, Rafe!” Ariana greets him as Rafe nods.

“Hi, thank you.” He responds smoothly as he looks at the girls standing in front of him. His eyes linger a fraction longer on Y/N. She looks down, suddenly hyper-aware of herself. He then turns back to Ariana who has asked him a question.

“Sorry?” He asks and Ariana chuckles.

“I asked if you like our villa? But I guess you got distracted by our beautiful single ladies!” Ariana teases and Rafe's grin widens.

“Yeah, yeah. Umm…it's unreal” He answers.

“You happy to stay here for a while?” She asks and he nods.

“Yeah, I hope so anyway.” He replies, cheekily and the girls giggle.

“What about these ladies in front of you?” Ariana asks, looking straight at Y/N. “Is there someone who caught your eye already?” Y/N widens her eyes and hides her face in her hands. Rafe chuckles, looking down before looking up at her.

“They're all absolutely stunning but yeah…one did.” His voice drops slightly, but the microphone catches his confession. Y/N freezes, her cheeks heating. The other girls gasp and giggle, nudging her teasingly.

“It's time to get coupled up.” Ariana announces, before explaining to Rafe about this year's change in rules. Rafe nods and seems hopeful for the result.

“Okay, Rafe, the girl you're coupling up with is…Y/N. Go on over.” When Ariana reveals that the public has paired him with Y/N, her heart thuds loudly in her ears. She tries to steady her breath as Rafe approaches, his confident stride softening when he reaches her.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks, his voice low, almost intimate, as he opens his arms.

“Yeah, you?” Y/N replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She steps into his embrace happily, his warmth enveloping her. Rafe nods and moves to stand behind her. His hand is hovering over her waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks, meeting her gaze before she nods. His touch settles lightly on her waist. A jolt of electricity seems to spark between them and they both stiffen for a moment, glancing at each other as if to confirm what they feel. Y/N smiles shyly, her heart racing.

“Rafe, how are you feeling? I saw a bit of a smile while you were walking over there. Did the public choose wisely?” Ariana teases and he chuckles, nodding.

“Yeah, definitely. I'm a happy man. 100%.” He admits, grinning widely. His words are sure and his tone is light but genuine.

“Y/N, he's 100% happy, what about you?” Ariana asks and Y/N turns her attention back to her.

“Yeah, he's cute. I'm happy.” Y/N nervously answers, her voice falters slightly under everyone’s gaze, but her smile doesn’t waver. Rafe chuckles, looking down at her with a glimmer of amusement and something softer.

“Good.” He murmurs just for her to hear, his hand tightening ever so slightly at her waist.

“And there we have it! Our second couple!” Ariana announces as everyone cheers and applauds. Y/N feels Rafe’s presence at her side like an anchor. His confidence is magnetic, but it is the way he subtly checked on her, making sure she was comfortable, that stays with her. Maybe the public got it right after all.

The coupling ceremony continues. The public pairs Topper with Sarah, John B with Cleo and Pope with Kiara.

“That's it! Now, we have our gorgeous 5 couples!” Ariana announces, introducing each one, her energy lighting up the group.

“So you're now gonna spend time as couples. Doing challenges together. Sharing a bed together. Living together. How does that sound?” Ariana asks and the group erupts in cheers, Topper hollering loudly as Sarah chuckles beside him.

“In eight weeks time, the public will be voting for their favorite couple.” Ariana continues, her tone teasing yet firm. “And that couple stands to win a massive prize of 100,000 dollars. But remember guys, this is Love Island and the path to true love never runs smooth.” She pauses to let her words sink in.

“I'm gonna leave you to get to know each other and I will see you very soon. Have fun.” Ariana walks off, leaving the Islanders buzzing with anticipation. They cluster together, conversations breaking out as everyone starts introducing themselves.

Confessional - JJ “Love Island, baby!” He shouts with a grin, hands cupped around his mouth. He leans back and exhales dramatically. “This is so unreal, the villa is insane and there are six hot girls walking around in bikinis. I’m living the dream, man.”

Y/N finds herself standing with Rafe.

“How you feeling?” He asks, his voice deep and husky, cutting through the chatter.

“Good. Kinda nervous. But…it's okay. I'll be okay. You? What about you?” She replies, meeting his gaze, fidgeting nervously with a ring on her finger. Rafe smirks, his posture relaxing.

“No, yeah. Same. I'm shitting my pants, if I'm being honest.” He admits, earning a laugh from her.

“So what…what did you say you do?” She asks, adjusting her bikini top. Rafe watches her carefully. He hesitates for a moment, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, I am a business owner. We do development and construction…stuff.” He winces inwardly, annoyed at how clumsy his words sound but he couldn't help himself getting nervous in front of her. Y/N nods and smiles playfully.

“Okay, mr. Businessman!” She teases, her tone light and inviting. Rafe chuckles, her easygoing attitude calming his nerves. For the first time that morning, he feels himself relax. Y/N shifts her weight as she leans slightly closer to Rafe.

“Development and construction, huh? So, what does that mean exactly? Like…building houses and stuff?” She asks. Rafe nods, his confidence slowly returning under her curious gaze.

“Yeah, houses, commercial spaces, renovations. Pretty much anything you can think of. My family’s been in the business for a while, but I’m trying to carve out my own thing.” He explains and she nods.

“Impressive.” Y/N says, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest. “I mean, that’s no small feat. Sounds like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.” She says and he shrugs, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“I try. What about you?” He asks, his eyes lighting up with genuine curiosity.

“I’m a baker.” She says with a proud smile. His brows lift, impressed.

“A baker? That’s amazing. How did you get into that?” He crosses his arms, his biceps flexing slightly and Y/N swallows, trying not to stare.

“Well…I’ve always loved baking.” She begins, her tone soft with nostalgia. “When I was little, my dad and I would spend weekends experimenting with recipes and making sweets for the family. It became our thing and I just fell in love with it.” She smiles at the memory, her expression warm.

“That’s incredible.” Rafe replies, his admiration evident. “It’s rare to see someone doing something they’re so passionate about. Not everyone gets that chance.”

“I know.” She says with a nod. “I’m really lucky.”

Before Rafe can respond, Sarah appears, cutting through the moment.

“Hey, want to take a tour of the villa?” She asks, Y/N glances up at Rafe, giving him the chance to answer first. He seems surprised but quickly nods.

“Yeah, sure.” He replies as Sarah leads the way and the trio heads toward the kitchen. Y/N’s eyes light up as she takes in the massive counters, mixers and gleaming appliances.

“You think you’ll show off your baking skills here, Y/N?” Sarah teases, nudging her.

“Maybe.” Y/N replies with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Rafe notices the sparkle in her eye as she talks about baking and before he realizes it, a wide grin spreads across his face. He’s so caught up in watching her that he misses most of their conversation.

“You okay?” Y/N’s voice pulls him from his daze, her expression tinged with concern.

“Yeah, yeah.” He says, clearing his throat and trying to play it cool.

The tour moves to the bedroom. The expansive space is lined with huge closets covered by mirrors, beds side by side and across from each other with personalized plaques. Sarah immediately finds her bed and claims it with a dramatic jump, making both Rafe and Y/N laugh. Her laughter stirs something deep inside Rafe, a longing he hadn’t expected. Y/N walks down the carpeted aisle, scanning the plaques until she spots her name.

“Here we are!” She exclaims, pointing to a bed with a bright yellow blanket. Rafe follows her and stands close, glancing at her plaque.

“Which side do you prefer?” He asks and she shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me. But fair warning…” She says, a mischievous grin forming, “I sleep like a starfish.”

“Oh yeah?” Rafe chuckles.

“Sometimes upside down.” She adds with a laugh, earning a loud laugh from him in return.

“Good to know.” He teases. “We’ll figure it out.” Their conversation is interrupted as Sarah leads them upstairs to the bathroom and makeup room. Sarah squeals at the sight of the luxurious setup, while Y/N pauses to glance at her reflection in the mirror.

“Looking good.” Rafe murmurs as he passes behind her, heading to the balcony. Y/N’s breath hitches at his voice, and she catches herself staring as he walks away.

“You’re staring.” Sarah teases in a singsong voice.

“Shut up.” Y/N mutters, brushing past her to step out onto the balcony.

“Wow!” She breathes, taking in the stunning view.

“Right? It’s unreal.” Rafe says, leaning closer.

“I can’t believe we’re staying here all summer.” She admits, sitting on a bench. Rafe joins her, nodding.

“Yeah, pretty surreal. Great house, great view…” He glances at her with a playful smirk. “Great company, too.”

“Can’t argue with that.” She grins, bumping his arm lightly. Their eyes lock and the air between them grows heavy with unspoken tension. Rafe’s gaze flickers to her lips and she unconsciously wets them with her tongue. He starts to lean in but right then, the door bursts open. Topper, Kiara and John B spill onto the balcony.

“Whoa, this view is insane!” Topper exclaims, oblivious to the moment he’s just shattered. Rafe exhales in frustration, earning a soft giggle from Y/N.

“Maybe later.” She whispers, standing and joining the girls back inside. Rafe stays behind, stunned, watching her walk away. It hasn’t even been an hour, but he already knows he can’t stay away from her for long.

The day passes quickly as the islanders get to know one another. The girls instantly click and are soon upstairs, getting ready for the evening’s first party.

“So, what did you think of the boys?” Sarah asks, running a flat iron through her hair.

“They’re very good-looking.” Maddy replies, carefully applying her mascara. Kiara and Cleo nod in agreement before turning to Y/N, who is focused on curling her hair.

“And you, Y/N?” Sarah teases, nudging her playfully. “What do you think about Rafe?” Y/N giggles, wrapping another strand of hair around the curling wand.

“The boys seem nice, fun to be around. Rafe…yeah.” She begins, pausing briefly. “He seems really sweet.”

“And very fit!” Maddy adds, prompting laughter from the group.

“That too.” Y/N agrees with a grin.

“Would you say he’s your type?” Maddy presses, her curiosity evident as Y/N nods slowly.

“He…he’s different from what I usually go for, for sure.” She reveals making the girls exchange curious glances.

“What do you mean? Different how?” Cleo asks, watching as Y/N finishes curling her last strand.

“Well, all my exes have had darker features, darker skin. I don’t mind the change, though.” Y/N admits with a small smile. “But he’s different in terms of vibe, energy…all of that. We’ve only had a couple of chats, but he made it feel so easy, like we already knew each other. I really liked that.” The girls collectively swoon.

“It’s that soulmate energy.” Cleo jokes. “Like Bluetooth syncing or something!” Her comment earns a round of laughter.

“In all seriousness, it’s great that you already feel comfortable with him.” Maddy says, nodding. “And to have good banter on the first day? That’s rare.”

The girls agree, soon transitioning to sharing how they spent their day with the boys.

“JJ asked me my bra size! Like…dude, we just met!” She exclaims, making everyone laugh.

Later, they head downstairs, all dressed to impress. Y/N wears a matching top and skirt set paired with sleek black heels. As they enter the kitchen, the boys cheer and whistle, clearly appreciating the girls’ efforts.

“Here you go.” Rafe steps forward, offering Y/N a glass of champagne with a warm smile.

“Thanks.” She replies, taking it as she leans against the counter. JJ raises his glass for a toast.

“To Love Island! To the hottest cast ever! And to finding love and friends!” JJ announces, his energy contagious. The group laughs, clinking their glasses together. Rafe turns to Y/N, raising his glass to her specifically. She chuckles, gently tapping her glass to his before taking a sip.

After some time spent chatting, JJ claps his hands to grab everyone’s attention.

“Alright, how about a game of truth or dare to break the ice? Let’s get comfortable around here.” He suggests with a grin. The boys immediately agree, their enthusiasm contagious, while the girls exchange looks before Sarah shrugs.

“Why the heck not?” She says, prompting the others to nod in agreement, before heading to the firepit. JJ holds up two small boxes labeled 'Truth' and 'Dare' and heads over to John B, who’s sitting on the edge of the firepit’s rounded seating.

“Alright, John B, you’re up first. Truth or dare?” JJ prompts, shaking the boxes. John B reaches for the truth box, earning boos from Kiara. He chuckles as he unfolds the slip of paper.

“‘Have you ever been to the mile-high club?’” He reads aloud, his face lighting up with amusement. The girls burst into laughter while Rafe elbows him teasingly.

“No, I haven’t.” John B admits. “But I wouldn’t mind.” He shoots a cheeky glance at the girls and Cleo rolls her eyes giggling. Passing the boxes to Rafe, John B grins.

“Your turn, Rafe. Truth or dare?” He asks as Rafe smirks, nodding toward the dare box. John B holds it out, and Rafe picks a slip, unfolding it carefully.

“‘Kiss the islander you find most attractive.’” He reads, prompting whistles and cheers from the group.

“So me, obviously!” JJ jokes, earning another round of laughter. Rolling his eyes playfully, Rafe stands up without hesitation. His eyes land on Y/N and he walks toward her, heart pounding. Leaning down, he meets her wide-eyed gaze.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly. Y/N swallows hard, her cheeks flushing. She nods, her lashes fluttering shut as he leans in. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss and Rafe’s senses are overwhelmed. Her lips are soft, sweet like vanilla, with a hint of champagne from earlier. Time seems to stop and when he pulls back, he’s left breathless. Y/N opens her eyes slowly, her chest rising and falling. She smiles shyly and Rafe returns it with a soft nod before heading back to his seat. He notices her licking her lips and glancing down as Kiara teases her.

The game continues, but Rafe can’t stop sneaking glances at Y/N, his mind replaying the kiss over and over. It’s only day one, but he knows he’s already hooked.

When it’s Y/N’s turn, Pope hands her the boxes and Maddy elbows her playfully. She hesitates for a moment before reaching toward the truth box, only to change her mind and choose dare instead. The boys cheer as she picks up the slip, her cheeks turning crimson.

“Oh no.” She mutters, drawing everyone’s attention.

“What is it?” Sarah asks eagerly.

“Come on, spill!” JJ demands and Y/N groans, reading aloud

“‘Reenact your favorite sex position with an islander of your choice.’”

The girls gasp while the boys erupt into laughter, their excitement palpable. John B claps Rafe on the back, a knowing grin on his face. Rafe tries to keep a neutral expression, but his mind races. Part of him hopes she’ll choose him, though the thought of her picking someone else stirs a pang of jealousy. When Y/N stands and adjusts her skirt, his breath catches. She walks straight toward him and his pulse quickens.

“Is this okay?” She asks softly, standing between his legs. He nods quickly, his voice caught in his throat. Y/N straddles his lap, pretending to ride him. The girls giggle and the boys holler, their cheers echoing around them. Rafe freezes, his mind blank as he takes in her closeness. Y/N notices his dumbfounded expression and stops abruptly.

“Too far?” She whispers.

“No, no…just, damn.” Rafe shakes his head and replies. She laughs softly, her smile radiant as she climbs off his lap, adjusting her skirt before returning to her seat. Rafe’s cheeks burn as John B and Topper waste no time teasing him.

“Someone’s got a boner!” Topper yells, earning an elbow from Rafe.

Confessional - Rafe He lets out a low laugh, glancing off-camera. “Y’all are so messy with these dares.” He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t think she’d actually do it. But…yeah, I’m not complaining.”

The game continues, filled with laughter, wild dares and revealing truths. Topper does the worm, Pope eats a spoonful of mayo and Maddy shares her craziest sex story. But no matter how much fun unfolds, Rafe’s focus keeps drifting back to Y/N and the moments they just shared.

As the game ends, the islanders begin to drift away from the fire pit, eager to chat and unwind. Sarah, Kiara and Cleo head off together, with Topper and Pope trailing behind. John B pulls Maddy toward the daybed, while JJ makes his way to the kitchen for a snack. This leaves Y/N and Rafe alone by the firepit.

“Hey, um…” Rafe begins, glancing at her as she stands by the fire, rubbing her hands for warmth. He moves closer, standing beside her.

“You having fun?” He asks, his voice soft. Y/N looks up at him and smiles warmly.

“Yeah, I am. You?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He replies, nodding, his lips curling into a small smile. Y/N hesitates before speaking again, her voice tinged with guilt.

“Oh my god, about earlier, I'm so sorry. I took it too far with the whole position thing. If I made you uncomfortable-”

“You didn't.” He interrupts firmly, his tone reassuring.

“You sure?” She presses, searching his face. “You seemed…I don't know.” Rafe chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“I was just surprised. But…” He looks her in the eyes, a playful smirk forming. "I enjoyed it." Y/N's brows shoot up in surprise.

“Oh, yeah?” She teases, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Good to know.” She adds, her voice light but her gaze steady. The air between them shifts, an undeniable tension settling in. Their chemistry crackles, their banter flowing naturally despite their nervous energy. Y/N's eyes flicker to Rafe's lips and he notices, instinctively licking them.

“You know.” He says, his voice dropping. “You're a really good kisser.”

“You think so?” She asks, her pulse quickening, palms growing clammy.

“Know so.” He replies, his confidence unwavering. “And I wouldn't mind sharing another.” He reveals, as Y/N's breath catches at his words, her heart racing. She meets his intense blue gaze, taking a moment.

“I wouldn't mind either.” She whispers. Rafe raises his brows slightly in surprise before quickly scanning the villa. Everyone seems occupied, leaving them unnoticed. Stepping closer, he positions himself in front of her, shielding her from view. His hand gently rests on her waist, while the other cups her cheek, tilting her face toward his.

“Tell me to stop.” He murmurs, his breath warm against her skin.

“I don't want you to.” She whispers back, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. That's all Rafe needs to hear. He leans in, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss. Y/N recovers quickly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he deepens the kiss. It's full of promise, desire and something neither of them fully understands yet but feels deeply.

“Oy, oy, easy there!” JJ's voice cuts through, approaching the daybed with a cheeky grin. Y/N pulls back with a laugh, her cheeks flushed, while Rafe turns to shoot JJ a middle finger. Y/N grabs his arm, pushing it down with a playful shake of her head. Then, unable to resist, she pulls him back for another peck, which quickly turns into another and another.

When they finally part, both are breathless, their laughter mixing softly. Y/N raises her hand, gently wiping the smudged lip gloss from Rafe's lips.

“Oh, yeah, do your thing.” Rafe murmurs, his eyes fixed on her. He takes in her flushed cheeks, the way her lashes flutter and the delicate touch of her fingers brushing his skin. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the two of them and the spark that's becoming impossible to ignore.

“You...you okay?” He asks, his voice uncertain but filled with a need for reassurance. He wants to know the kiss meant something to her, that it wasn’t just a fleeting moment. That even after one day, he’s claimed her in some unspoken way.

“Yeah. You? Was...was it okay?” She asks softly, her brows knitting with concern as she searchees his face for an answer.

“It was perfect.” He admits, his voice steady and sincere. A smile tugs at herr lips and he can’t help but mirror it, pulling her into his arms. His hands trail lightly over her arms, noticing the faint goosebumps there.

“I like getting to know you already.” She murmurs, half-teasing but entirely honest.

“Yeah, me too.” Rafe replies, a low chuckle escaping his throat. “That's...that's definitely an interesting way to get to know someone.” She laughs softly, the sound warm and light, before the two of them begin walking back toward the group.

Confessional - Y/N She smiles shyly, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “The kiss? Yeah…it was nice. He’s-he’s definitely a good kisser.” She says, cheeks going visibly red. “Like…really good."

As soon as they rejoin the others, the teasing begins, playful and relentless. Y/N rolls her eyes, face flushing as she hides behind her hands, but Rafe only watches her, his gaze lingering. Admiring.

For him, there’s no teasing in the world that could ruin this moment.

It’s finally time for the couples to head to bed. The girls gather upstairs in the makeup room, taking off their makeup, slipping into pajamas and chatting as they wind down.

“Okay, Y/N.” Kiara says with a smirk. “Spill!”

“Yeah, don’t leave us hanging like that.” Maddy adds eagerly. Y/N stammers, her cheeks flushing as she searches for the right words.

“Guys, give her a second to breathe.” Sarah says, grabbing the bottle of micellar water.

“I…it just happened.” Y/N finally manages.

“How was it?” Kiara presses, leaning closer.

“Did he use tongue?” Maddy teases.

“Ew!” Cleo exclaims, wrinkling her nose. The girls dissolve into laughter.

“Okay, okay, relax!” Y/N starts, shaking her head. “We just…we had a moment. He wanted to kiss me and I wanted to kiss him. And…it was probably the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

The girls all let out a synchronized “aww”, making Y/N laugh nervously.

“I told you, it’s that Bluetooth connection.” Cleo chimes in, earning another round of giggles.

One by one, the girls head downstairs to the bedroom. John B and JJ are being their usual goofy selves, jumping from bed to bed. Pope and Topper are deep in conversation and Rafe is sitting at the edge of the bed, quietly watching everyone with a soft smile.

Confessional - Sarah “I'm actually really happy for her. They've got a vibe, you know? I can see it working.” She nods thoughtfully, a small smile playing on her lips.

Y/N is the last to enter and all eyes fall on her as she steps into the room. Her cheeks heat up under the attention, but she quickly makes her way to the bed. Rafe stands the moment he sees her, scratching the back of his neck.

“I…uh…wasn’t sure which side you wanted.” He says awkwardly. She waves it off with a small smile.

“I told you, I don’t mind.” She replies.

“Right.” He mumbles, clearing his throat. “Okay.” He moves to the right side of the bed.

“This okay?” She nods, still smiling as she sets her water bottle and phone on the bedside table. Rafe watches her, mesmerized. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie, one he wishes was his and tiny shorts that barely peek out from under the hem. Her hair is in loose braids, framing her face in a way that makes his heart race. Sliding under the covers, she glances up at him.

“Aren’t you getting in?” She asks and he blinks, realizing he’s still standing.

“Right! Yeah. Yes.” He quickly climbs into bed, keeping a safe distance so she feels comfortable. The lights go out and the room is filled with quiet laughter as Topper and Sarah cuddle boldly, earning a loud holler from JJ. Maddy smacks him playfully, pulling him closer to her. The teasing dies down and soon the room grows quiet. Y/N shifts under the covers, trying not to disturb anyone as she struggles to get comfortable.

“Hey, you okay?” Rafe’s voice is soft in the dark and she turns to face him.

“Sorry.” She whispers. “I’m just not used to sleeping anywhere but my own bed.” He nods in understanding.

“Yeah, I get that.” A pause. “Do…do you wanna come closer?” Her eyes widen slightly.

“I-” “You don’t have to.” He quickly adds. “It’s the first night. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She hesitates before inching closer, her leg lightly brushing his.

“Is…is this okay?” She asks quietly.

“It’s perfect.” He murmurs. She relaxes, settling into the space beside him. Her arm finds its way around him, her knee brushing against his thigh. Rafe’s heart pounds at the contact and he focuses on keeping his breathing steady.

“Good night.” She whispers, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Good night.” He replies, his voice barely audible. Within moments, she drifts to sleep, her body softening against his. Rafe glances down at her, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. Her arm instinctively tightens around his torso, making his breath catch.

Looking around the room, he sees that everyone else is already asleep. He sighs, turning his gaze to the ceiling, wondering how it’s possible to feel so much for someone he met only hours ago.

The next morning, the bedroom lights flicker on, rousing everyone from their slumber. Groans and stretches echo around the room as Y/N blinks her eyes open, realizing her head was resting on Rafe’s chest. She pulls away quickly, her face flushing.

“Sorry.” She murmurs groggily while Rafe gives her a sleepy smile, his voice low and husky.

“It’s fine.” He whispers. Y/N sighs, tugging the covers over her head.

“I don’t wanna get up.” She groans and Rafe chuckles softly, yanking the covers away.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” He teases as a small smile tugs at her lips as she sits up, rubbing her eyes. Around the room, people start asking about each other's sleep.

“What about you, Y/N?” Maddy asks and Pope smirks. “You two cuddled last night, didn’t you?” He asks teasingly. Y/N’s cheeks turn crimson.

“I slept well.” She says quickly, then hesitates. “And… yeah, we did.” Topper, from his bed, grins and leans over to give Rafe a high-five. Rafe rolls his eyes but smirks, reaching out to connect hands. Y/N shakes her head at their antics, amused despite herself. She throws the covers off and stands up as the rest of the girls follow suit, heading upstairs to start the day. As Y/N walks away, Rafe couldn’t help but watch her, his gaze lingering.

“Man, you’re whipped already.” Topper jokes.

“Shut up.” Rafe mutters, though a small grin tugs at his lips as he gets out of bed to get ready.

Not long after, the boys gather outside for a morning workout, while the girls, now dressed in bikinis, fill the kitchen with chatter as they make coffee. Rafe works out until thirst gets the better of him. He heads to the kitchen to grab a water bottle, his eyes naturally drawn to the lively scene there.

That’s where Rafe spots Y/N, standing by the counter in a tiny bikini that perfectly highlights her silhouette. She’s in her element, flipping pancakes with ease, barely acknowledging whatever JJ is saying to her or noticing Rafe’s presence. His gaze lingers as she stacks the golden pancakes on a plate. When she finally looks up, her eyes meet his.

“Oh, hey!” She says, smiling warmly.

“Hey.” Rafe replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. His skin glistens with sweat from his workout, the sun highlighting his sun kissed complexion and making his blue eyes sparkle.

“You want some? They’re sugar-free, for all you gym rats.” She teases playfully, making him chuckle and nod.

“Yeah, I’d love some.” He says and he starts to move behind the counter, but she stops him, pressing the end of the spatula lightly against his chest.

“Go sit down. I’ve got this.” She exclaims as Rafe raises a questioning brow.

“You sure? I can-” “I insist.” She cuts him off firmly. With a slight shake of his head and a grin, he backs away, taking a seat on one of the stools. Y/N stacks pancakes onto two plates, adding a dollop of yogurt, a handful of berries and a drizzle of honey. Once she’s satisfied, she carries the plates over, placing one in front of him before settling beside him.

“Here you go. I…I didn't know if this is how you wanted them. Fuck, I should’ve asked.” She mutters, scolding herself. Rafe glances at the plate, then back at her.

“Actually, just like this.” He reveals with a faint grin and she narrows her eyes playfully.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” She says.

“I’m not lying.” He replies quickly, shaking his head. “Seriously, you can ask my family or any of my friends, this is exactly how I make them too.” Y/N’s eyes widen, and Rafe can’t help but feel stunned. It’s such a small, silly thing, but it means something to him. He wonders why he hadn’t met her sooner.

They both mirror a smile before she starts to dig into her pancakes, she strikes up small talk with him, her laughter and easygoing nature making it impossible for him to look away.

Confessional - Rafe "I know it's just pancakes, but come on...that is definitely a sign" He smirks.

Breakfast flies by and the islanders soon head to their first challenge, designed to help them get to know each other better. The setup resembles an airport, complete with a metal detector and a luggage carousel at the center. The game is simple: the girls read cards with spicy truths about the boys and try to guess which one the secret belongs to. Once they’ve guessed, they "scan" the boy and seal it with a kiss. The boy then walks through the metal detector to reveal if the guess was correct. Afterward, the roles reverse and the boys guess about the girls. The team with the most correct answers wins.

Sarah goes first, picking up her card.

“‘This boy’s first time happened in the back of his dad’s van.’” She reads out loud. “Hope dad wasn’t there.” She adds smirking as the girls laugh and exchange guesses, while Sarah studies the boys. Her eyes land on John B, who’s nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“You! You look guilty!” She declares, pointing at him. Laughing, John B takes her hand and they step to the center. Sarah cups his face and pulls him into a soft kiss. John B’s hands settle on her waist, letting her take the lead as the kiss deepens. The other girls cheer excitedly. When they break apart, both are flushed and Sarah playfully pushes John B toward the metal detector. He steps through and it blinks green. She guessed correctly.

“And no, my dad wasn’t there.” John B jokes. “But thanks for that mental image I’ll never unsee.”

The group bursts into laughter and Sarah sends him a cheeky wink before returning to the girls.

The game continues until it’s Kiara’s turn. She steps forward, grabs a card and reads it aloud.

“‘This boy drunk-dialed a celebrity and hooked up with her.’” Gasps fill the room.

“What? That’s insane!” Kiara exclaims, scanning the boys’ faces for clues. After a moment, she points to Rafe. “You seem like the type to drunk-dial someone.” She drags him to the middle and they share a brief, soft kiss. He steps through the detector, but it flashes red. As everyone murmurs, JJ steps forward, grinning.

“Yeah, that was me.” He admits.

“What? Spill the details!” Maddy presses and JJ scratches the back of his neck, chuckling.

“There was this woman, an actress, can’t name her, obviously, who was taking surfing lessons from me. One night, I got totally wasted, called her and well…we ended up on my boat.” The room erupts in shock, the boys teasing him for more details, but JJ keeps the name to himself, basking in the attention.

Confessional - JJ He crosses his arms, trying to keep a straight face. “I’m not saying her name. Nope.” He shakes his head, glancing off-camera. When he focuses back on the lens, he throws his hand up to his ear like a phone and whispers “Call me” with a cheeky grin.

Finally, it’s Y/N’s turn. She steps forward, picks up a card and reads.

“‘This boy accidentally sent a dirty picture to a colleague.’” She gulps and laughs nervously. “Oh no, that’s…unfortunate.”

After a moment of deliberation, she points to Rafe.

“I’m going with you.” She says, unsure but willing to take the chance. Rafe’s breath catches as Y/N takes his hand and pulls him to the center. Their eyes meet, lingering, before she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. The kiss is soft but charged, with an unspoken intensity that sets it apart. Rafe’s hands settle on her waist, pulling her closer.

When they finally part, Rafe takes a moment to collect himself before stepping under the detector. It blinks green. Y/N grins as the girls cheer, but her gaze stays locked on his.

“What kind of dirty picture?” She asks, raising a curious brow and Rafe smirks.

“You know the kind.” His teasing tone earns a round of laughter and screams from the group, while Y/N fights a blush, unable to look away from him.

Now it’s the guys’ turn. JJ steps up first, grabbing a card and reading it aloud.

“‘This girl has had a threesome with her best friend and her boyfriend.’” He pauses dramatically, then smirks. “Oh, spicy!” His eyes sweep over the girls before he steps in front of Y/N, extending his hand.

“Come on, sweets.” He says with a playful grin. Y/N hesitates for a moment but takes his hand, letting him lead her to the center. Rafe watches, trying to keep his expression neutral as JJ cups Y/N’s face and pulls her in for a messy, passionate kiss. Despite himself, Rafe’s jaw tightens and he looks away briefly. When the kiss ends, Y/N wipes her lips with a small smile and steps under the detector, which flashes red. As the islanders try to figure out who it was, Kiara steps forward, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, fine! It was one time and I’m not even friends with her anymore.” She admits.

“Did the threesome have anything to do with that?” Maddy teases, raising an eyebrow.

“What? No! She was just a two-faced bitch.” Kiara shoots back, making everyone laugh. Y/N chuckles softly as she takes her spot again.

Confessional - Kiara She tilts her head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sorry, not sorry…bitch.” She says sweetly.

Finally, it’s Rafe’s turn. He picks up a card and reads it, a sly smile spreading across his face.

“‘This girl had a sex dream about a superhero.’” He glances at the girls, his gaze landing on Y/N, who suddenly seems very interested in her nails. Rafe chuckles.

“Come on, Y/N.”

She looks up, cheeks flushing and takes his outstretched hand. He leads her to the middle, his hand settling on her waist. Tilting her chin up with his finger, he leans in for a kiss. It starts soft, almost tentative, but quickly deepens as he pulls her closer. Her arms wrap around his shoulders and Rafe, unable to resist, lifts her off the ground, continuing the kiss until he gently sets her back down.

When they finally pull away, both of them are breathless, laughing quietly as Y/N steps under the detector, which flashes green. Rafe’s smirk widens as Topper chimes in.

“Care to tell us which superhero it was?” He asks and everyone starts begging her to spill and Y/N groans, her face burning.

“It was…Captain America.” She reveals as the girls nod knowingly, while the guys gape in shock.

“I had a Marvel phase, okay? And…I’m sorry if Chris Evans ever hears about this.” She adds, making everyone laugh.

With the game wrapped up, the girls victorious, the islanders head back to the villa, the tension between Y/N and Rafe lingering in the air.

The girls head straight upstairs to the makeup room to get ready for the night.

“So… Captain America?” Maddy teases as she works on her hair. Y/N rolls her eyes, sifting through the racks of outfits.

“Don’t even start.” She warns, though her lips twitch with a smile.

“I don’t blame you.” Sarah chimes in, applying lip gloss.

“He’s hot!” Cleo agrees enthusiastically.

The girls laugh and chat as they get ready, rehashing the challenge and the scandalous truths that were revealed. By the time they head downstairs, they’re glammed up and dressed to impress.

The boys, also cleaned up in their best outfits, let out whistles and cheers as the girls enter the bedroom. Rafe can’t take his eyes off Y/N, especially the short dress that hugs her in all the right places. She moves through the corridor toward him, but her heel catches and she stumbles. Rafe reacts instantly, grabbing her waist to steady her. Her hands press against his chest as she regains her balance.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice low and concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” She murmurs, meeting his gaze briefly before standing upright. His hands linger on her waist, reluctant to let go.

“Aw, looks like you’ve got your own superhero!” Maddy teases as she walks by, grinning. Y/N chuckles softly, stepping back and rolling her eyes.

“Thanks again.” She says before following Maddy and the other girls. Rafe stays rooted to the spot, watching her walk away. Topper claps him on the back.

“Dude, you’re staring again. Chill.”

“Fuck.” Rafe blinks, muttering under his breath, before he trails behind the group as they head to the kitchen.

Later, Y/N, Maddy and Sarah lounge on the daybed with JJ and John B. The vibe is relaxed, laughter flowing easily among them. Rafe approaches, his hands in his pockets.

“Mind if I join?” He asks. The guys scoot over to make space, but his eyes are fixed on Y/N.

“Of course.” She says with a small smile, shifting slightly to make room.

“You having a good time?” She asks, taking a sip of water from her bottle.

“Yeah. It’s good. All good.” Rafe replies, his voice a bit strained.

The conversation resumes, light and playful, but Rafe seems distracted. Finally, he clears his throat, his expression unusually serious.

“I’m sorry, but I have to bring this up.” He says, breaking into the chatter. Everyone looks at him curiously.

“What are you talking about?” Maddy asks. Rafe glances at Y/N, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Captain America? Really?”

The group erupts into laughter as Y/N groans, hiding her face in her hands.

“You’re never letting this go, are you?” She asks, her voice muffled.

“Never.” Sarah chimes in, wrapping an arm around Y/N. “This is too good.” Y/N sighs dramatically.

“Fine. Yes, I had a Marvel phase. And yes, Chris Evans is ridiculously hot. So is Steve Rogers. And yes, I’d happily let him save me from a burning building and then kiss me and…is that so bad?”

Everyone laughs, but before Y/N can join in, she notices movement in the distance. A figure appears, walking down the villa’s flower-adorned corridor, the click of heels echoing against the floor.

“Where’s my warm welcome?” A sultry voice calls out. All heads turn and Y/N’s eyes widen in shock.

“Shit.” She mutters under her breath. A hot new bombshell just entered the villa.

to be continued…

taglist: @cherrygirlfriend @judesgfirl @slickdickwitchbitchh @leather-n-velvet @alinavalentine @littlelamy @nami11 @madiisynnxx @ts1mp0ne @starkeyslibrary @venusluves @rafecameronsfavourite @lolharrystylesissexy @nofacenocase00 @k4yr14 @drewslefttoe @tinie03 @angielvsnick @dellevans @malibuhearts @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @harryweeniee @imawhoreforu @fastlovela @jjmaybankmylovee @miserablebl00d @angeliki-spiteri9711 @drewsnr1slut @laniirackssss @emotionsmgcbabe @oconnrs @missabsey @amterasuu @cornliastreett @pvyden @italk2god @swagmoneydrew @lerclec @emmaaas-posts @dorcas4meadowes @isabellaxlilah @xoxosblogsblog @bxbychxrry @julesbog @annaaaamichelle @st8rkey @lewispool @my-name-is-baby @silkylovey @soincredible

A/N: this was long and i hope you enjoyed it, i have so much planned for this series and i am so excited and so happy you all have shown it so much love already!! likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! 🩵

[absolutemea]

FratBoy!Sukuna x Chubby Reader

previous Part Two next

From the moment you stepped out of your house for this date you just had a bad feeling about it all. Cmon the frat bot Sukuna Ryomen asked you out? Sure you're a pretty girl but you were not his usual type. It was almost off putting the way he was out on a date with you now after randomly he started pursuing you. But you brushed those thoughts away as you took a slow sip of water and looked out to the sunset.

"Y'know you don't have to be so on guard around me." he said in an almost bummed out way.

"Oh but I do."

He was slightly taken aback by your response when all he was trying to do was ease your anxiety, "What's that supposed to mean? Huh? What are you trying to say."

"I mean you're not known to be the most dateable," You said quietly and crossed your arms under your chest before turning to look at him.

He scoffed, "You trying to call me a shitty guy to date or a manwhore?"

You paused and swallowed hard. His gaze was eating you alive and there was a sense of something in his eyes resembling being offended. You always had the issues of never knowing when to back down.

"That's not... Y'know what, if that's how you wanna take it, then go ahead."

"Is that why you had been refusing to go out with me?"

But before you could answer the waiter came back to take your orders. You let out a sigh of relief at not having to answer. But, the man was still eyeing you and Sukuna was painfully aware of it. Nonetheless, Sukuna ordered a steak and potato while you got your favorite meal. You gave a small 'thank you' and handed the waiter your menu before he walked off. But, obviously you weren't off the hook that easy, it was Sukuna.

"So you gonna answer me or what, ma?"

You sighed and looked out to the city before thinking about your answer. Yeah to be honest you hadn't accepted his initial offers because you thought you'd just get fucked over. He didn't have the best reputation with women. He had women in and out of his bed, never the same one and most definitely didn't wine and dine them. So, in perspective it was odd that he asked you out. You're not some toy or easily accessible woman. There's more to you and those women he had sex with. You didn't wanna be another girl to add to his victim list though. But, maybe you had accepted this date finally because you wanted to feel like every other girl your age. You were always that chubby, smart, overlooked girl, not that you weren't beautiful but society just treated you differently.

"If I'm being honest... yeah, you don't have the best reputation with girls. So obviously I'm gonna be wary." You spoke gently trying to let him down easy.

Shit. Was his reputation finally catching up with him? Sukuna always thought he had good enough looks and money that most women would overlook his behavior. But, it was clear you were different. You were smarter than him, not easily bent at his will. It almost hurt his ego and broke his stoicism... almost. But he was an asshole and what he said next almost sent you across the table.

"Well ma, that's what happens when lots of people want you. I know you're not used to that."

"The fuck are you trying to tell me?" You almost spat out your drink but instead swallowed hard.

"I just mean c'mon you're not exactly popular with the lads so you have no one saying you're a bad girlfriend."

You just scoffed and shook your head before looking out to the city once more. He could tell he had hit a sore spot but his pride wouldn't let him apologize. This wasn't how the date was supposed to go. But since that little slip of the lip left you dead silent just sipping your water until the waiter came back with the both of your food and you mumbled a 'thank you.' That's when he took the opportunity to speak up.

"So, what's your major?"

"Psychology." you said bluntly and picked up your fork.

"So, you're like smart and shit?"

"Smarter than you."

He let out a dry laugh before also starting to eat. You took a small bite and chewed softly with your manicured hand covering your mouth slightly. Sukuna watched your every move carefully to see if you like the food and goodness you did. The food was so good and authentic it reminded you of a home cooked meal. You tried your best to remember your best manners and not scarf down the food immediately. But he could see you had a small smile on your face. Sukuna figured that it's been a while since you had a good meal considering you're a broke college student.

"So are you from around here?"

"No, uh, I'm actually a few hundred miles away from home. My family actually didn't want me going far from home but I needed some distance."

He nodded and looked back up at you to see if you would elaborate. You saw that look in his face, signaling he wanted to know more. Your family life was something you always kept private. It's just how you were raised. You weren't on that level of comfort with Sukuna to tell him how college was your way out of the house, how your family didn't have the money to send you, and how you're on scholarships. He didn't need to know your dad and you are estranged or how many siblings you have. You're mind flooding with thoughts of back home but you quickly shut them down. Instead you directed the questions back at him.

"What's your major?"

He was slightly taken aback that you were asking him a question. He wasn't used to actually having to talk about mundane things about himself to girls. But, he then realized it was a first date and that's what you do.

"I'm a business major. I'm supposed to take over my family's company."

Thats right. He's fucking rich and his family owns a small business. You wanted to blame him for being a spoiled asshole but you knew that was just his upbringing instead you spoke softly and nodded.

"That's pretty cool. But, do you even wanna do it?"

Oh that stung. That question rang in his head. "But do you even wanna do it?" The simple answer was he didn't know. Ever since he was young it was drilled into him that he would take over the family business. He never got to dream of other things.

"Well... I'm not sure..."

"Tell me about it?"

And so he did. So for the first time he actually found himself opening up. He didn't know why but something about you made him feel safe even though you had been off putting this whole time. He told you about the pressure his family was applying to him to do well and take over the business. How he was the only child but his father was always cold and harsh. The conversation went one longer than both of you expected, you both had finished eating almost half an hour ago yet you were still talking. That was until the waiter came with the check. You started to reach for your purse intending to pay for your portion but he was quicker. He grabbed the check and slid his card into the holder.

"Put your fucking purse away. You're never paying with me. Don't even try to insult me like that." He said sternly.

You just nodded and smiled softly. He took note of your smile and realized he could get used to it. Once the waiter came back with his card he stood up and reached out for you to take his hand. You took his calloused, large hand in yours and stood up before he pushed your chair in. He guided you out the restaurant and to his car. Once you were both in and buckled be started to drive again. This time he had his music playing which was some grunge divorced dad music. Which you silently laughed at and noted. Soon you got back to your apartment and he cut the engine. He got out and opened the door for you. He took your arm as he walked you to your door.

"We should go out again, ma." If you hadn't known better you'd have thought he was nervous.

"Yea we should. I had a good time."

"I'm glad."

With that being said you nervously leaned in for a hug goodbye. You embrace was warms and your body soft. Sukuna was a bit taken aback but quickly wrapped his arms around your waist. His body was lean and hard as a rock against yours. He could easily get addicted to this... to you. You then pulled back and unlocked your door before stepping in and waving him goodbye.

"Text me when you make it home, okay?"

He smirked softly at that... that someone cared if he made it home safe tonight. It felt good, really good. You soon heard his loud sports car start and drive away. You smiled big and leaned up against the door, all giddy. The date went far beyond your expectations. You soon composed yourself and started undressing and taking off your makeup. Once you were in comfortable clothes and in bed you got a text. But it wasn't from Sukuna...

[blkkizzat]

"You're down on your knees, I'ma be your... lieutenant??"

✰✰ 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✰✰

✰ requested. cw: 18+mdni. military au, smut, threesum, coercion, bullying. gojo satoru x reader. geto suguru x reader. satosugu x reader. ✰ an: got a burst of inspo while driving back from the cabin me and my friends were at this weekend so decided to knock this out real quick. i am back to workin' on wip list tho! i just couldn't access google docs on the road. ✰ wc: 1,900

“C’mon, Private. Drop and give us fifty—or should we just hand these papers over to the Sergeant right now?”

Geto dangles the letters of reprimand in front of your face like it’s a treat. That smug curve his thin lips carves into his face, daring you to make a scene or defy them.

One more demerit and your already shame-riddled military record would be unsalvageable.

And you haven't even been here that long!

Your eyes burn with tears as you glare up at him, pout sharp and full of fire—but the real storm crackles lower, hotter and wetter, between your thighs.

You're soaked, and he knows it—the smug fuck.

Geto knows you need him and you do.

Ever since Lieutenants Gojo and Geto joined your unit, you’ve been their favorite little project—deciding, as your so-called superiors, to take you under their wing “for your own betterment.”

Though frankly, their version of leadership feels a hell of a lot more like bullying than mentorship.

Like sharks scenting blood, they zeroed in on your inexperience—you might as well be fresh meat in fatigues.

You couldn’t eat a single meal without one of them bumping your tray, couldn’t march a straight line without Gojo making obscene gestures just out of frame—yet worst of all?

Every little fuck-up is magnified and they make sure to catch you in the most minor of infractions—nothing escaping their eagle eyes when you were the prey in their sights.

When you'd smarten up to their game, trying to keep 2 steps ahead, they'd up the ante and go as far as giving you misleading directives so you'd break a rule you didn't even know existed.

Rules they told you to break in the first place!

They would of course deny that and given their pristine military record, who would even believe you?

All of it they perfectly orchestrated to justify, as they put it—'your much needed discipline if you were to become a proper combat soldier'.

“You heard him, Private...”

Gojo chimes in, lounging back against the sofa in his and Geto's shared office. He pushes up his sunglasses, still wearing them indoors. Yet the teasing way they sit on the bridge of his nose does little to hide the mischievous gleam in his eyes behind them.

“...be a good little Bunny girl before we add another fifty for insubordination, hm?”

Gojo’s charm is boyishly dangerous, all tilted head and sugar sweet smiles—like he’s asking for a favor, not ruining your life.

The kind of charm that would’ve had someone’s mom—yours especially—offering him pie and a spare bedroom without a second thought.

And yeah, shit, maybe you fell for it too in the beginning when you thought he was just being helpful.

But now?

Now you know better.

"...Fine."

You spit out, clearly forgetting yourself.

“What was that, Private?”

Geto asks full of amusement, hand cupping his ear. He pauses and waits.

Gritting your teeth, you swallow your pride with a huff.

“Y-yes, sirs.”

Geto nods and Gojo leans back further—that’s your go'ahead.

Completely bare from the waist down, you straddle Gojo on the sofa.

His cock is already at full attention, leaky and twitching like its saluting you.

Gojo doesn’t even try to hide it, not that he ever does. He’s always hard when you’re near—always ready to pull you behind the barracks and ruin you—especially when Geto's not around to keep him in check.

You align yourself, swallowing the whimper building in your throat.

When they told you to “give them fifty,” you knew they didn’t mean pushups.

Not anymore.

Not since last week’s “corrective training” ended with you on your knees and their cum dripping down your chin like warm frosting on a cupcake.

So here you are.

Preparing to bounce on your superior officer’s cock like your career depends on it.

Because it does.

You'd have to pump your lil' cunny, up and down on Gojo's massive length, fifty times or until he came—which, let's be real...the cruel white haired beauty beneath you could barely make it through twenty.

But that's where Geto came in. He'd make you do fifty more plus what was still owed to Satoru.

You shake away those thoughts for now, focusing on the task at hand.

Lowering yourself, hips trembling as you spear yourself on Gojo’s thick length barreling through your walls like a tank. No matter how many times he fucked you, you'd get just as tight, like you'd never taken him before.

You’re always struggling with those last few inches.

At this point, it’s practically tradition.

“All the way now… Private.”

Geto’s voice is syrupy smooth, but there’s no mistaking the smirk behind it.

You sniffle, cheeks hot, thighs shaking as Gojo’s cock presses right up against your cervix—it's too much. You haven’t even fully bottomed out yet and already your body’s quivering around him, clenching like it’s trying to keep him out and pull him deeper all at once.

You swear you hear him stifle a laugh through his own low moans.

Sweat beads at your brow as you rock your hips forward, just barely managing to slide down the rest of the way with a low, shaky moan.

There.

Fully seated, you're now split open on your superior officer’s cock like the good little recruit you are.

"Good girl, Bunny—now begin."

Geto gives you his words of approval while Gojo hisses, your tight heat already making him gasp for air.

You lift your hips just enough for his thick cockhead to catch at your slick entrance—he won’t slip out, of course. Gojo’s far too big for that.

But it always makes for a good show, and it never fails to get him close faster, turning him to jelly right beneath you.

Taking pride in that as it's the only thing you'd ever have on him, you brace yourself as you start your count.

"One..."

Slamming your hips back down, both you and gojo simultaneously moan.

“Fuhh—uck!”

Gojo groans, voice cracking like a whip, as your clit smacks against his pelvis. The soft scratch of his white hair on your swollen bud sparking through you like static and you savor a bit longer grinding down at the base.

Your body goes taut, drenching his cock as you clench him even tighter and he’s instantly undone—eyes fluttering, neck slack, fighting the urge to roll his head back and bust immediately into your messy, dripping cunt.

"Two..."

"HAH-FUHHCK!"

Gojo cries out, his pitchy moans making Geto sigh in exasperation at the pure display of weakness.

“Shiiit, Bunny—you’re tighter today…”

Gojo groans, panting.

“Been thinkin’ about us, huh baby? Bet you fucked up on purpose just to get punished...not enough I already made you cum on my tongue in the mess hall earlier?

If anything his dirty talk is only doing himself in more. Gojo's blunted nails dig into your thighs, grip shaky like he’s holding on for dear life.

Your face burns, but you don’t answer.

You just keep your count, voice low and breathy.

By four, Gojo’s already sweating.

By six, his abs are twitching.

Your army fatigues are bunched up past your chest, tits out and jiggling obscenely with every slam of your hips. The clink of dog tags against your collarbone echoes with each thrust—his and Geto’s both—tangled together like they own you.

They made you wear their dog tags instead of your own.

Gojo bites down on his lip—hard, blood staining his pretty lips. He's trying to keep it together.

He’s close—too close.

Gojo's eyes flick to Geto in silent panic.

Geto sighs, sharp and unsurprised, like he saw this coming before you even got to five.

“If you don’t make it to twelve this time, Satoru, I’m punishing you next.”

Geto drawls, watching lazily from his chair like a disappointed coach. 

Yet the sight still has him palming his own rapidly hardening cock.

Something about Geto using Gojo’s first name to scold him—like the bratty schoolboy he acts like 80% of the time—tickles you, and you giggle.

Just a little.

Gojo doesn’t find it nearly as funny.

His palm cracks against your ass, sharp and sudden, cutting your laughter short as you cry out. The sting blossoms instantly and the sounds of skin on skin echoing off the office walls like a warning shot fills the room as he does it again.

"....Seven"

Tears begin to pour as Gojo gives you a harsh smack each time only causing more to fall and you get even tighter around him—the pain's never stopped you though, you can't stop.

You'd show them you were a fine military recruit—you wouldn't give up.

You hit ten with a cry, but your mouth doesn’t form a number—just a mess of breathy vowels and drool pouring salaciously from your lips.

You know you have to count though or start over so you take a brief pause to push out the word before making your hips rise once more.

“...T-T-Ten—”

“Wrong. Nine.”

Geto corrects you sharply, eyes narrowing.

“You were on nine, Private. Cock already turning you into a dumb pleasure Bunny? Is that all you are recruit? or should I say slut?”

You mean to shake your head no, but you only end up unintentionally bobbing it 'yes' as your head luls with the wave of your hip motions, hopping up and down Gojo's shaft again and again.

Slick flowing out of you all the more as a twisted part of you enjoys being their little plaything.

As far as Geto and Gojo were concerned, you take cock too well—Far more skilled and obedient than anything else you did as an enlisted soldier.

You weren't built for fighting—you were built to be their perfect little fuckdoll.

You lose count.

Twelve. Thirteen... Fourteen?

You don't even know.

Your plump ass slams back down on Gojo, making him jolt beneath you.

He’s not even spanking you anymore—too far gone. His toes curl in his boots as he grips the fat of your hips like rocking you on him faster, slick with sweat like he’s the one who's been putting in the work all this time.

The next time you lift your hips you can't even say a number—your brains gone utterly smooth, blended up by Gojo's fat cock.

"...mrgh..."

Your eyes roll back.

Geto's brow twitches.

“Pathetic—the both of you.”

Geto mutters, already unbuckling his belt.

By the time he walks over, Gojo’s nearly gone.

He’s just moaning now, holding onto the last shreds of sanity.

Snapping you both out of a fucked out haze, Geto fists your ponytail and pulls.

Ow!

You jolt, dazed and ruined, only to find his cock flushed and furious, impatiently pressing against your thick lips.

“Bunny, if you’re not gonna use your mouth to count, you can use it to serve.”

He pushes your face forward, long sinewy hands wrapping around your head to grip the sides of your face.

Your lips part instinctively, taking him in. Geto doesn't ease in, too aroused by watching the two of you fuck yourselves stupid he attempts to thrust into the hilt causing you to gag and push him out.

“Tsk. None of that now. Show some goddamn gratitude, Private.”

Geto sneers, cock too excited to be lodged past your tonsils.

“You’ve got two of the best officers in the division to mentor you. The least you can do is open that throat pussy a lil' wider."

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

✰ reblog and comment plz if you want more of this.

[farfromdaylight]

explaining old praetorium to people who never experienced it makes me feel like a crazy person. like yeah there were 8 players there. the tanks pulled every single add so that the rest of the party could hit a button, then they pulled two full hallways of enemies so the party could skip ahead, and sure they usually died but it was prae so that didn't matter.

then after the first boss you had to get on the elevator. all 8 of you. at the same time. yeah if we forgot someone we have to go back. then every single person has to pick up a key to turn on the magitek armor and get on another elevator. hope you didn't miss that one.

nero was whatever but gaius barely did any mechanics, he really just fell over. then you'd have the whole ultima weapon fight, which was two phases and one of them you barely did any damage. oh and at the end you fought lahabrea. if you were lucky he was Lahabread and if he lived more than ten seconds it was a miracle. congrats for spending 45 minutes of your life in prae, have some exp.

[rorysverse]

sweatshirt

pairing: jack abbot x gn!reader summary: you fall asleep during a shift and jack watches over you word count: 1.1k tags: soft moments , mutual pining a/n: for those of us who think long looks are the equivalent of sex scenes

Jack finds you on accident. At least, that’s what he’ll claim later. Truth is, he’s been pacing. The trauma team cleared out. The surgery board’s empty. And the only thing Jack has to show for the last three hours is a splintered coffee stirrer and a half-written report that makes no damn sense. Somewhere along the way, he misplaces a patient chart - again. He knows it’s somewhere nearby. He just doesn’t care enough to keep looking.

But when he walks past the half-ajar door of the back supply room, he slows. The lights are off, except for the faint lamp someone forgot to shut down. It's barely enough to see by, but he steps in anyway, boots quiet against the tile.

And then he sees you.

You’re curled on your side, tangled in a mess of fabric and fatigue, one cheek pressed to a scrub pack like it’s a pillow. Your arms are pulled close, one knee bent toward your chest. You’re still in your work uniform - smeared with blood (someone else's, hopefully), sweat, and coffee.

Jack pauses. He doesn't speak. Doesn't even breathe for a second.

There’s something about the quiet of you. Something that catches him off guard. He sees people unconscious every day, but not like this. Not peaceful. Not soft. Not someone like you, who’s usually all sharp reflexes and half-joked sarcasm and kind eyes even when things are falling apart.

Jack moves closer before he realizes he’s doing it. He kneels beside you. His hand hovers for a moment, fingers twitching like he’s going to brush your hair back from your face - but he doesn’t. Instead, he stands again and shrugs out of his hoodie. It’s old. Worn soft from too many on-calls and late nights. The cuffs are stretched, and the front pocket has a faint tear near the seam. He drapes it carefully over your body, making sure it covers your arms, your shoulders, your curled-up knees.

You don’t wake. So, he pulls over a chair. Sits, and stays.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You wake to warmth. A quiet kind of warmth - not sun, not heat - but something softer. Familiar. You shift and blink slowly, vision swimming as the hazy edges of the room come into focus. You sit up, sluggish and confused, and the hoodie slinks off your body like second skin. It smells like soap and eucalyptus and coffee. A little like hospitals, and a lot like someone you’ve stood too close to too many times without admitting how it made you feel.

Jack.

He’s sitting nearby in a scuffed rolling chair, legs stretched out, a manila chart folder open in his lap. He’s reading something under the lamp’s glow, his expression pinched in concentration. There’s a smear of ink on his knuckle and a shadow of exhaustion under his eyes.

You clear your throat, the sound low and scratchy in the quiet.

Jack looks up immediately. Like he’d been waiting for you to say something. Like maybe he'd been listening for your breathing to change, for your lashes to flutter, for any sign that you'd wake up and he could stop pretending to read that damn chart.

“You drool in your sleep,” he says, deadpan.

You blink, still heavy-limbed and swimming in the warmth of his hoodie. “Excuse me?”

He shuts the folder with a soft snap and leans back in his chair like this is the most casual conversation you’ve ever had. Like he hasn’t been sitting in silence with you for… what, an hour? Two?

“Figured I should tell you before the entire surgical team finds out,” he adds. “Get ahead of the scandal.”

You squint at him, then swipe the sleeve of his hoodie across your mouth instinctively. “I do not drool.”

“Floor begs to differ.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but the corner of his mouth twitches. Barely. A fraction of a smile that dies before it can settle on his face.

You lean back against the wall, sighing out a laugh that sounds more like relief. “What time is it?”

“Close to five.”

You grimace and push a hand through your hair, fingers snagging on dried sweat and tangled strands. “Shit. I was supposed to help Eli restock the med closet.”

Jack lifts one shoulder in a shrug, but there’s something deliberately casual in the motion. Like he's downplaying something he absolutely did not downplay at the time. “Handled.”

You frown. “You restocked?”

“I supervised.”

“You hate inventory,” you say, voice full of disbelief.

Jack turns his face away slightly, toward the lamp, like the glow makes it easier to avoid looking at you straight on.

“Didn’t want you waking up just to fall over again.”

It lands heavier than you expect. The words aren’t playful. They aren’t sarcastic. They’re… honest. Your heart stutters once. You try to hide it by shifting in your seat, adjusting the hoodie around your shoulders.

You look at him a second longer than you mean to. He’s tired. You can see it in the way he’s slouched in the chair, the lines at the corners of his eyes, the tension still sitting in his shoulders. But he’s watching you now - not impatient, not judgmental. Just… watching. Like he’s memorizing this moment. Like he doesn’t want to forget how you look in his hoodie, rumpled and soft in the middle of a world that demands steel and fire.

“You didn’t have to,” you murmur.

“I know.”

You could leave it there. But you don’t.

“You didn’t have to stay, either.”

Jack exhales, long and quiet. Then he lifts a hand and rubs the back of his neck. You watch the motion, the stretch of tendons in his arm, the way his jaw ticks when he doesn’t speak right away.

Finally: “Didn’t seem right, leaving you alone like that.”

You feel something crawl into your throat - unspoken and delicate and stupidly hopeful. Something that tastes like I care. Like stay. Like I notice you even when no one else does. You swallow it down before it shows on your face.

Jack stands slowly, rolling his neck until it pops. You watch him - every line of tension, every unspoken thing left hanging between you.

“Come on,” he says, voice rough with fatigue. “Coffee’s probably drinkable by now.”

And when he turns to leave, he doesn’t look back. But he doesn’t walk fast either. He leaves space beside him. Just enough for you to follow.

“You sleep okay?” he asks quietly.

You nod. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He doesn’t answer. But when you pass him your coffee a few minutes later - too sweet, barely warm - he takes a sip without complaint. And when you hand him back his hoodie, he shakes his head.

“Keep it.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you wear it, it’s two weeks later. Graveyard shift again. You’re dead on your feet, and Jack’s yelling at someone over a misfiled toxicology screen. But when he sees you walk past wearing his hoodie, he shuts up mid-sentence. He doesn’t say anything. But his expression softens.

[deathofacupid]

opposites attract, they say. they attract, but they don't last. at least, not satoru and you.

"'toru," you tug on his sleeve, the silk cool against your clammy skin. he glances away from the gaggle of people surrounding him, a practiced smile flashing across his face. it doesn't reach his eyes.

"yeah, baby?"

you inhale, the bass of the music vibrating through your chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. "can we — could you…" the words catch in your throat. what were you asking for? sanity? a moment of quiet? "um," you stammer, "when's this going to be over?"

"over?" he echoes, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, as if the very concept is absurd. "babe, the party just started."

your party. the party you hadn't asked for, the party you dreaded.

"i know," you say, treading carefully. you knew he'd put effort into this. it's just… the room felt like it was closing in. it wasn't his fault, not really. he thrived in this environment, the center of attention, radiating that effortless charisma. people were drawn to him like moths to a flame. and tonight, the flame was burning too bright.

"but… it's just really, um," suffocating is the word that claws at your throat, but it feels too dramatic, too needy. "it's just kind of a lot."

he laughs, a booming sound that seems to amplify the noise around you, and says something you can't hear over the music. "'toru," you sigh, the sound barely audible, "i can't hear you."

he clicks his tongue, a flash of annoyance crossing his features, before he leans in and excuses himself from the group. he takes your hand, his grip a little too tight, and pulls you out onto the balcony of the penthouse. the city lights sprawl beneath you, a dizzying panorama that mirrors the chaos in your head.

"okay," he says, his tone impatient, as if this whole conversation is an unwelcome interruption. "go ahead."

the resentment simmers. you swallow it down. "toru, this is… nice and all, but, uh — i'm just not sure… not sure this is my scene."

he squints at you, his brow furrowed. "what do you mean? it's your party."

"i didn't want one, though. don't get me wrong, this was… thoughtful, i guess. it's just too much for me."

satoru blinks, genuinely surprised, as if you've sprouted a second head. "but…i mean, i thought you'd like it. look at how many people showed up for you."

"'toru, those people aren't here for me. i don't even know most of them."

"it's a party! like, a party party. of course, you won't know all of them."

"i probably don't even know three of them!" you snap, the frustration finally breaking through. "you know i don't like these things," you add, the words softer now, pleading.

"yeah," he scoffs, the sound laced with something you can't quite decipher. "i do."

"well, what's that supposed to mean?"

"nothing. it's just," he groans, running a hand through his hair, "frustrating."

"frustrating? it's frustrating? me wanting to spend my birthday with you, that's frustrating?"

"you are with me!"

"and, like, one hundred other people! what's frustrating is that you're not listening! i told you i wanted to spend today, just the two of us!"

"but that's what we always do," he mutters, the words barely audible.

"what? oh, i'm sorry, is quality time annoying?"

he pinches the bridge of his nose, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "that's not what i meant."

"that's what it sounded like."

"look, it's just… boring doing the same thing all the time. we like different things."

"yeah," you whisper, the words heavy with a sudden, sinking realization. "we do, don't we?" you shake your head, the movement small and defeated, and turn to walk past him.

"wait, where are you going?"

you shrug, unable to meet his eyes, "to go to a different thing."

[auracorazayne]

Routine Check-Up

A pre-relationship ZayneMC one shot that originated from this twitter interaction

warnings: pre-relationship; no smut, just unspoken feelings and slow-burn-esque tension; but obviously per the above screenshot, some vague discussion about sex; Zayne and MC are both mentioned to be virgins in this fic, idc if that does or doesn't fit your hc's; second person POV; only allusions to reader's gender are via "Miss Hunter" used one time and "sister" used one time; I think that's it, let me know if I should add something else

word count: 3.8k (oops)

a/n: it's not even 24 hours after I tweeted that reply and I gained like 100+ new followers on Twitter and have like 40-50 replies to go through requesting tags on this, which is a crazy response. I SINCERELY HOPE that you guys enjoy this and that I did not just build anticipation for people only to disappoint lol. Either way, happy to hear thoughts, even if they are critical! Feedback helps me improve, so I'm always open to suggestions 🩵

=============================================

"The doctor is ready for you," the receptionist calls to you over the lobby desk, making your heart lurch with excitement. You run your hands through your hair for the 18th time and take a steadying breath, swallowing the urge to launch out of your chair and skip down the hall, as over-eager as you always are ahead of seeing your childhood-friend-turned-primary-care-physician.

The surprise came six or seven months ago when, during a routine appointment with Dr. Noah, you were introduced to the new doctor that would be taking over some of his patients in his retirement. The air left your lungs all at once, pure shock nearly dropping you to your knees, when in walked the sweet, quiet boy from your childhood you gave up hope on ever seeing again.

The sweet, quiet boy your heart never forgot about, even after he disappeared from your life without a trace, even after all the years of separation, even after all the time spent wishing you'd somehow cross paths again. The sweet, quiet boy your heart never let you forget about, despite the many days spent wondering where he was in the world, despite the countless nights spent missing him, despite all the perfectly suitable romantic options over the years that just fell flat because that very stubborn heart of yours continued to hold on.

And while your heart rejoiced at finally being reunited with that boy, all those feelings flooding back in the instant he walked through that door, your body had become keenly aware that he was now a man: tall, strikingly handsome, elegantly styled, graceful in ways that seemed unfair, carrying the air of experience. It made reconnecting slightly difficult at first, a few awkward lunches or coffee meet-ups full of nerves in the very beginning, but it didn't take long for things to fall back into the same smooth, easy rhythm you had as kids, both eager to catch up on all the missed time.

And just like back then, it only took one glance from his piercing emerald eyes to pin you to the spot and make your heart race in ways you were sure would one day lead to a cardiac emergency. Ironic, you think.

Fortunately, should that happen, there's quite literally no one better suited to save you than the very same perpetrator. Unfortunately, it was quite troublesome to always be dealing with inexplicable tachycardia in the presence of your cardiologist, who was quite concerned.

As you knock on Zayne's office door, that tachycardia threatens to surface and you do your best to fight it mind-over-matter. But the second you hear his rich voice call for you to enter, the battle is lost.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Li," you greet with an impish lilt as you take a seat in the exam chair; you never were able to stop yourself from teasing him, then or now. He pauses his typing to cock an eyebrow at your obvious cheek and you can't help but snicker.

"Good afternoon, Miss Hunter." His pointed return has you laughing again, and you catch a little smirk as his attention shifts back to his computer screen.

Not wanting to interrupt him, you quietly study his features in the few moments it takes him to finish his task, admiring the chiseled angles of this new, matured face of his. Puberty sure was kind to him, you think to yourself. If cardiothoracic surgery ever grows dull for him, surely the modeling world would welcome him with open arms.

"Now then..." He suddenly shifts focus, forcing you to quickly reign in your leering. "Before we discuss the results of your most recent ECG, a bit of housekeeping is in order."

You nod as he returns to his computer and clicks a few times, presumably pulling up your medical record.

"We're due to update some information," he explains before flipping one of his monitors towards you. "Are these medications and dosages still accurate to what you're following currently?"

You rise from your seat and lean over his desk for a closer look, reviewing the list with furrowed brows and a hum. "Everything that's listed is still correct, but there's one prescription missing." With a finger to your chin, you meet his gaze, his brows similarly furrowed as he tries to puzzle out what medication would be missing. "As of this summer, I've been on a thousand milligrams of sucrose weekly, per the orders of my doctor's dentist."

Your face pulls into a delighted grin as his falls deadpan, one of his hands coming up to flick your forehead. With a chortling laugh, you fall back into your chair, rubbing your forehead as he returns the monitor to its original position.

"Barring that, everything looks correct, yes?"

"Yes," you give with a lingering little giggle, never shy about laughing at your own jokes. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes with a half-smile, painting the perfect picture of the phrase 'fond exasperation,' and you can't help the way it turns your grin just a little dopey or makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. These were the most precious of little moments with Zayne that made your heart soar.

With a pointed nod, he gets back to business. "Moving on. Any major illnesses in the past 12 months?"

"No."

"Any major injuries or surgeries in the past 12 months?"

"No."

"Any incidents in the past 12 months that required hospitalization?"

"No."

"Any new or worsening allergies?"

"No."

"Do you drink alcohol?"

"Socially."

"How often do you drink four or more drinks in one sitting?"

"Never."

He pauses to look at you, again with that cocked eyebrow that does funny things to your insides. "Does that actually mean 'never' or does that actually mean 'sometimes?'"

"Dr. Li, what do you take me for?" You feign offense with a hand to your chest, but he simply levels you with the same silent look. "Truly, I don't have the tolerance you must think I have." His eyes narrow a fraction as he considers you and your innocent smile for another moment, the intensity of his stare drawing heat to your cheeks. When he finally seems convinced enough to return to his questions, you release the breath you hadn't realized you were holding under his scrutiny.

"Do you smoke, either tobacco or marijuana?"

"No."

"Do you use any recreational drugs?"

"No."

"Are you sexually active?"

You should have expected it, should have known this question would come up at some point and been better prepared to school yourself, but your whole body involuntarily goes rigid. You quickly mumble out a "no," trying and failing to hide your sudden tension, painfully aware of his discerning gaze swinging your way to study your reaction. As you feel your neck to your crown grow flame-hot, you keep your eyes riveted to the floor like your life depends on it, sure that there must be visible steam emitting from your ears.

After a long, tumultuous moment of loaded silence, he finally says, in a voice both gentle and quiet, "I understand our...friendship may make this an uncomfortable topic... however, for the sake of your health, it's best to be honest here."

At that, your eyes flick up to meet his, then quickly return to their spot on the floor. "I am," you assert softly, suddenly feeling like you might suffocate in that office.

In your periphery, you can see the way he tilts his head, considering. "Your sudden nervousness would seem to imply you're lying." Coming out of anyone else's mouth, it would easily sound accusatory, but from Zayne, there was only a gentle observation and an even gentler request to understand.

"I'm not lying..." your brows knit together before you will your eyes to drift up and meet his again, only to be overwhelmed and have to avert them to some nondescript spot on the wall. "I'm...embarrassed."

He wheels his chair around the corner of his desk and stops directly in front of you, aiming to bridge the gap between you, both literally and metaphorically. Knee-to-knee, he tries to capture your avoidant gaze. "Did I embarrass you?"

"No, I--" The thread of guilt in his voice has you jumping to explain yourself, heart squeezing, but your voice dries up in your throat when your eyes meet his once more and find him so much closer than before. Your mouth opens and closes a few times and you have to force a hard swallow in order to try again. "You didn't embarrass me." Then, quieter, you add, "if anything, I embarrassed myself..." Despite the desire to avert your eyes again, you find you're unable to.

"Can you help me understand how, why? Is it that you find it embarrassing to not be sexually active at the moment?" His earnestness makes your chest constrict and--oh god, he's so close, does he seem like he's gotten even closer?

"Zayne..." Your stomach twists knowing what you've resigned to admit out loud to him. "I'm... a virgin..."

Something indiscernible flashes across his features and all at once you feel hot enough to burst into flames, yet you still can't tear your eyes from his. He hums, giving nothing of his internal thoughts away. "And that's... embarrassing for you? Being a virgin?"

"S-sometimes..." You take to chewing on your lip to try to ease the way everything in you is screaming to jump out the 4th story window to your left. "It just feels like..." With a slow breath, you search for the words, any words. "At my age..."

In your heart of hearts, you know you just saw the corner of his lips lift, despite it only being an excruciatingly tiny amount, and, unsure of what it means or where you stand with him, it fully plunges your thoughts into the chaos you were trying to keep at bay.

Was it embarrassing to be a virgin at any age? Certainly not. Unless there was one person--one devastatingly desirable person that you ached for mind, body, and soul--that you already had slim chances of ending up with, which could possibly become even slimmer if he knew of your inexperience. Zayne surely wasn't the type to care about a little inexperience, but an intelligent, successful, mature man with a face like that? It stood to reason he had experience under his belt and desired a partner that could keep up with him, that he didn't need to teach.

Another long-seeded insecurity starts to drag itself to the forefront, opening up a gnawing pit in your stomach the way it always does when it rears its ugly head: the possibility that Zayne might view you as family, a sibling even.

in your eyes, even during childhood, Zayne has always been the one your heart longed for, but what were you in his eyes? Were you ever anything more to him than the troublesome little girl next door he was forced to look after? He was always smarter, better focused, better at communicating, better at not scraping his knees at every turn, and he certainly never made you feel less than for any of that, but could it have slowly sealed you away in a position of juvenility in his mind? Now, presently as your doctor, is he simply taking care of an adoptive little sister with nostalgic, familial fondness?

And did admitting your virginity to him only further cement a perceived gap in maturity?

As you lose yourself in your internal spiral, he assess you, expression soft, before leaning back in his chair and picking up a pen to twirl idly.

"Would you feel better..." He begins, snapping you back into reality, your eyes refocusing on him and his uncharacteristically relaxed posture. "...if I told you I was also a virgin?"

You gawk, features blanching, sure that you couldn't possibly have heard him correctly. And then you realize: he must be joking, or otherwise lying to soothe your ego. "Yeah, right," you roll your eyes before fixing him with an incredulous glare, your turn to cock a brow in his direction.

The corner of his lips lifts higher, this time enough that that it would be noticeable even to one not so well-versed in Zayne's micro-expressions. "It's true," he insists with his barely-there smirk.

You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, unyielding. "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better about the situation, but I'm not buying it."

His little crooked smile widens into something big enough to be called a grin, at least by Zayne standards, and he huffs a laugh through his nose. "While I did say it to make you feel better, it isn't a fabrication. It's the genuine truth."

The two of you--languidly leaned far back in your opposing seats, knees nearly brushing--look at one another for a long, drawn out moment as you weigh his words. And you hate what those words are doing to your insides, the little butterflies that rise in your stomach, the hope their fluttering wings are starting to stir up.

"It just doesn't make sense," you finally level, which seems to amuse him even further.

"Why not?"

As you consider him, still steadfast in your skepticism, he tilts his head at you ever so slightly, maintaining his wisp of a grin, making your heart clench with how effortlessly handsome he is.

"You're too attractive," you offer, both as an answer to his question and as an accusation. He coughs and splutters as if you just threw water in his face, clearly caught off guard by such a blunt declaration, and yet his grin never falls. Before he can recover himself too much, you continue. "And too smart. Too kind and caring."

"Confusing that somehow such high praise is evidence against my candor." With a bemused, breathy chuckle, he rests an elbow on the arm of his chair and leans his head on his knuckles, eyes sharp and glittering.

"It just stands to reason that someone at some point must have made advances towards you." You lean forward, eyes narrowed, elbow planted on your knee as you drop your chin into your hand and study him.

"I was several years younger than everyone in my class, and far too occupied with course work to take notice. Beyond that..." In turn, he sits forward in his chair, forearms coming to lean on his knees as he brings his face close to yours. "... Am I obligated to accept advances from just anyone simply because they were made towards me?" His voice drops, sending a wave of goosebumps down your spine.

"N-no...I suppose not..." you concede, just a little breathless at the new proximity. You catch a whiff of his cologne and your eyes nearly roll back into your skull.

"You, on the other hand..." He pauses, tracing your features with his gaze, and it feels as though you might combust on the spot under such close attention. You take a long, steadying breath, willing yourself to keep a level head. "If we examine the reasoning you gave earlier, and the fact that you were surrounded by peers primarily within your own age group, to use your words... 'it stands to reason that someone at some point must have made advances towards you.'"

With your brain currently overloaded with equal parts nerves and desire, it takes a minute for his point to hit you. But when it does, you can't stop the cheshire grin that splits your face, finding a blunder in his words. "Dr. Li," you tease. "Are you calling me attractive?"

"Yes." He answers without hesitation, seeming nearly unfazed save for the bit of color that rises to his cheeks, in stark contrast to you who's gone from grinning to slack-jawed with just that one word. Your heart pounds so heavily in your chest you think it might beat its way straight out of your rib cage. "But that doesn't absolve you from the question," he continues, and it takes you even longer this time for your brain to pick up the pieces of the conversation and figure out how to close your gaping mouth.

"Advances..." you start, mostly in an attempt to pull yourself from your daze. "There were some..." With a hard swallow, you will more coherent sentences to find their way to you. "A few dates here and there, but nothing that went anywhere..."

"Hmm," he hums thoughtfully. "Because you didn't want them to? Or because they didn't want them to?"

You blink, feeling suddenly sober as you try to avoid saying the explicit truth on the tip of your tongue: because none of them were you. Shaking your head to clear the thought, you try to find the right thing to say. "A little bit of both, I suppose... I never really felt a spark with any of them, so at the end of the day, I would've cut them off anyway. Some of them just beat me to the punch."

He tilts his head to the side inquisitively. "You've never felt a spark with anyone?"

Your lips turn up in a slow smirk at his question, gaze dropping to the side. "Well, I didn't say that..." Heat returns to your face as you glance back up at him through your lashes, and the way his adams apple bobs elicits a fresh wave of butterflies in your stomach.

"My apologies for putting words in your mouth," he breathes, voice huskier than you've ever heard it. He's so, so close, close enough that his breath tickles your overheated cheeks, and you want nothing more than to close the short gap between you and touch your lips to his, to make sure he actually understands.

"W-what about you?" You try, blinking rapidly, attempting to stay grounded in the conversation and beat back the urge to attach yourself to his face.

"What about me?" With a single knuckle, he traces a feather-light line up the forearm you're leaning on, and it takes everything in you to not fall right out of your chair. You're almost certain he notices the goosebumps he leaves in his wake.

"Any dates? Any attempts?" You breathe, or, maybe more accurately, wheeze.

His only response is a low hum and a slow shake of his head.

"None at all?"

Again, a shake of his head. Somewhere in the back of your mind is a flash of disappointment that he doesn't consider any of your get-togethers to have been dates, but you quickly shoo the thought away; they were always proposed as meetings between friends, never actually dates, even if wait staff, cashiers, and baristas were constantly assuming you two were a couple on a date.

"Zayne, you've never been on one date?" The incredulity creeps back into your tone.

Still shaking his head, he explains, "I never had the time. Or the interest."

"It's still just... hard to believe," you murmur.

"That I didn't have the time for dating while I was finishing med school early, training as a combat medic, or starting my career as a surgeon?" He lifts a brow with a little smirk that's so cute it's painful.

"Yeah, okay, well, when you put it like that..." You roll your eyes and playfully bump his knee with yours. "But still, even with all that... no one's ever caught your eye?"

"Well, I didn't say that," he echoes, grin growing to a size that's surely bigger than you've seen from him before, eyes sparkling with mirth--and, you dare to let yourself think it this time, perhaps, a hint of affection.

All you can do is stare with a matching grin of your own and a stomach full of butterflies threatening to carry you away, desperately hoping that you're not somehow playing tricks on yourself, that this moment of understanding isn't something you managed to twist in to being inside your own head.

Just as you're finding the courage to reach out and make that direct contact, finally voice the scary question, Zayne's desk phone shatters the intimate silence and you have to restrain yourself from throwing it at the wall.

It takes him a moment, but he clears his throat and slides his chair back over to pick it up with a curt greeting.

"Yes, I'm just finishing up with the current patient now." A pause. "Thank you."

As he lays the phone back on the receiver, he meets your waiting gaze again and the fond smile that graces his face makes your heart squeeze for the upteenth time since entering his office.

After a beat, he clears his throat. "Well... I suppose I don't need to ask about a history of STI's..." He clicks through the remaining health screening questions left abandoned on his computer screen and you can't suppress the snorting laughter that bubbles out of you.

That easy, smiling quiet charged with unspoken understanding falls between you again once more, until you reluctantly tell him in a soft voice, "I'll get out of your hair."

It takes another moment, but you both stand and head for the door. As he reaches around you for the handle, you turn before he can pull it open, meaning to add one last thing, only to find yourself caged between his tall frame and the wood at your back. His scent washes over you and makes the room spin as you both process unexpectedly being chest to chest. You decide the pink hue of his ears is your favorite color, before remembering your favorite color has actually always been hazel green.

Attempting to chase that fleeting courage from earlier, you look up at him through your lashes and inhale deeply. "Zayne?"

"Yes?" He breathes, failing to hide his anticipation, if he was even trying in the first place.

"Are you... free for dinner some night this week?"

He gives a single jerky nod in response. "Thursday, I believe."

Your smile widens slowly before you whisper. "Good. It's a date, then."

Surprise flickers across his face before being replaced with his own slow smile. When you lean up on your tip toes to quickly peck his cheek, he inhales sharply, his body going rigid as a board, ears promptly ramping up into a bright crimson.

He's still frozen in place, processing the moment when you lay your hand over his to finally open the door. As you step out into the hall, you turn back one more time, having suddenly remembered something.

"We never discussed the results of my ECG."

Zayne finally thaws and leans through the door frame, capturing your chin between his fingers. "I guess you'll just have to make another appointment," he says in a low voice, just before his warm lips find your cheek in turn and your heart erupts in the halls of Akso Hospital.

=============================================

a/n: I really didn't expect this to turn out this long, sorry y'all lmao. I miiiight in the future write that date (which I think I could tie into Heart Within Reach? But I'd need to do a full reread to make sure I didn't somehow write myself out of that as an option) which might also get a future continuation of ZayneMC's first time together because that's kind of been rattling around in my brain too lol. Hopefully if you made it this far down, that means you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Ruffled Hair and Genuine Smiles

Riddle x !Mother Figure! Reader (platonic)

It was after Riddle's overblot, when you crouched next to him on the ground as he cried and gently wiped his tears before offering the warmest hug he's ever gotten in his life, that he first felt that warm feeling in his chest.

You went on to offer to help him make the tart Ace demanded as an apology; pointing out that Ace had plenty of help making his and therefore Riddle deserved at least one person to help him.

When it came to baking the tart, Riddle had that unfamiliar, warm feeling in his chest the whole time you two were working.

You giggled when he got flour on his cheek, and when he pouted, you smudged some on your own as well so the two of you would match.

Riddle was stunned by your action, but he found himself letting out the most genuine laugh he's laughed in ages.

When Riddle mentioned the oyster sauce you gave him a strange look before shrugging and telling him to go ahead and add it. (It would he Trey, the one who told him this little 'trick', that would be tasting the consequences)

You could see Riddle trying his hardest to be better after his overblot, so you made sure to let him know you saw his efforts. Sometimes you did this with words, and other times you did it by fondly ruffling his hair.

It doesn't matter if you're all that much older than Riddle or not, at this point he was starting to unconsciously see you as a mother figure.

On the rare occasion that he didn't already have his tie tied perfectly and positioned just right, you would come up and do it for him. (there's that warm feeling again)

On test days you'd meet up with him after school to see how he did. When he did well you hugged him happily. When he did poorer than he hoped, you still hugged him: reassuring him that this wouldn't be the end of the world. "We all fall short of our goals sometimes. It's a part of life and it's how we learn. Look at your test. The ones you got wrong are marked. You can take this information and use it to do better next time. You know what you struggle with, so work on it. There will be plenty more tests for you to ace in the future, but you won't be able to do so if you allow yourself to be put down by this one. I believe in you, Riddle; and I'm proud of you whether you get 100% or not."

Riddle was stunned by your words and ended up crying in your welcoming arms for a second time.

Anytime he would slip up and get angry, you'd gently calm him down and help him find a better solution than yelling.

Anytime the Equestrian Club would have a competition of some sort, you'd be in the front row of the crowd: camera in hand. Somehow, he could always hear your cheers over the rest of the crowd.

Riddle somehow got a button torn off his uniform jacket once, and you offered to fix it for him. The next day, you showed up to Heartslabyul bright and early in the morning (with the slightest dark circles under your eyes from staying up all night making sure your stitches were perfect) Jacket in hand.

He didn't realize until later in the day when he reached his hand in his pocket that you had left a little note. "Have a good day, Riddle! Good luck on your test! :)"

Anytime Riddle would have to call his mom, and inevitably be left upset afterwards, you'd always be there for him with your arms open.

"Oh" he thought, finally piecing his feelings together. That warm feeling in his chest every time you did something for him that showed him you cared. . .that's what it's supposed to feel like to be loved by a mother. Not cold and harsh. Soft and warm.

Nobody dares utter a word when they see the usually uptight Riddle not so discreetly looking for you after class on test days: 100% score in hand. Nor do they utter a word when they see how excited he looks when he finally finds you and shows you the test. And they certainly don't say anything when you get away with ruffling his hair and giving him a soft hug.

"I'm proud of you, Riddle." This is a sentence his real mother has never once uttered to him, at least not genuinely. It's come to the point that any time he hears those words he can't help but feel inadequate. That's what his mother always made him feel when she said those words in that ingenuine tone of hers.

But when you said it?

When you said it in that oh-so-gentle tone with that oh-so-genuine smile. . .

Riddle felt love

He finally felt like someone was truly proud of him, and he was proud of himself too.

He accidentally calls you mom once, but instead of looking at him disgustedly or yelling at him as he expected; your laugh flows airily through the air like a wind chime. It's not in a condescending way, but rather one that conveys a sense of fondness. You simply ruffle his hair and smile.

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[mina-org]

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five you're reading part six!!

Seriously? Fuck this shit

You can’t move the frown, it’s stuck to you. What were you supposed to do? you had refused to go out with sabre because you didn’t have any money and now no electricity, your phones dead, you can’t even text him:(

Soon enough the clock strikes 12, a knock echoes through your apartment.

sabre is here and he’s gonna think you’re an idiot!

This is a great start, perfect.

Before you can unlock the door he’s letting himself in, “love you gotta keep the spare in a better place, ya lucky it’s just me.” Soon enough his shoulders are brushing past yours, heading to the kitchen.

“I picked up some food for us lovie, didn’t want ya cooking for me ‘nd hosting,” everything he does is so natural, it’s like he’s been here before and he’s not said anything about the electric situation, maybe because it’s daylight so he’s not noticed? Maybe it’s because the windows let enough light in? But you haven’t messaged him, he’s probably thinking you’re rude and now you’re being completely silent.

"im really sorry for not texting or anything, my electric isnt on and my phone is dead." you blurt out fast, your chest tightens a little, scared of his judgement, first you cant pay for coffee and now you asked him to come over and it looks like you didn't pay your electric:(

"its alright lovie, just gotta light some candles, it'll add to the mood 'nd add to the mood." he coaxes a nod out of you and you're meet with a smile. "good, now lovie I got a portable charger in the car, can get it for ya? dont want you ignoring me too much alright? and you dish out the food for us, yeah?"

"yes please, that'll be great." you soon return his smile, looking up at him! its perfect, he loves a damsel, especially one in distress(ignoring the fact he and his bros are the reason for it but thats none of your business)

Kyle searches through his car and puts his phone on mute, and changes Simon's name on his phone, doesnt want you to see Johnny simon, and price on his phone and put one and one together. the thought of johnny's tech fumble still gives him a giggle. that man hides his intelligence so, so well.

soon enough hes back upstairs, placing the charging brick on a side table before wrapping his arms around you, bringing into his chest and snapping a picture, "it'll be good for a scrapbook love, 'nd I wanna show off my pretty girl to my friends." he informs you and usually you'd protest but sabre was a breathe of fresh air, he was everything you wanted in simon and you didnt have to beg for it.

soon enough tea light candles are scattered across the table, charting out the new constellations that'll shine over you sabre, no, no, no.

You're getting ahead of yourself, you've known sabre for like 30 minutes? can't plan your wedding right now, when he goes home though? free range!!!

"so um, I thought we could like do a little painting dating, I grabbed a couple of canvases and stuff."

"great! I see this stuff all over 'nd I never 'ad anyone to do it with." sabre responds eagerly, he settles into his seat

"what are ya gonna paint?"

"not sure yet" you stare at the colours and suddenly you've never seen anything before.

"have ya seen the hand one? like we both have a colour and than I press my hand on the canvas 'nd than you do it over mine" he suggests.

do you just wanna compare hand size? you tilt your head to the side.

"yeah, but this way ill have a painting for when ya busy, unless youre willing to give me a hand, love?" he nods, admitting it with a laugh, you notices theres a hint of embarrassment, "'m a clingy bugger love, hope that's alright."

you nod at his words, "me too" you say simply and sabre starts picking out colours.

"you wanna be purple love, 'nd I can be green?" you nod and sabre is soon tugging up his sleeve and passing over his hand for you to paint.

you hold his hand so gently, he can't remember the last time he was held so delicately. the mix of the sensation of bristles and cold paint sends a shiver down his spine but you hold him steady and the scent he had smelt on simon and lingered in his flat it's suddenly flooded him, moorish caramel and rich vanilla, he wants to take a bite out of you.

his hand is soon covered in the pistachio green paint and moving to press down on the canvas.

now its your turn, but sabre is already tugging your sleeve up and a gently but firm hand brushes a layer of lavender over your own hand, you and sabre chat about everything and anything, his thumb gently rubs up and down.

soon enough the painting is done and sabre's got his phone out and taking pictures of you and the creation, saying he'll post it. little do you know he's sending it to simon who's spiralling because what the fuck? you always sent those sappy videos to him and now youre doing them, with Kyle:( not him. sickening. blood rises and he wants to grab Kyle out of your flat and take back his place.

sharing has never been Simons strong point.

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457 @gh0st-spid3r @sweetlittleblackrose @aceywaycy @mooievis @theadultoedge @cheese-pull @imtherain@h0e-02 @misscaller06 @lucilleifer @cherryflavoredguts @junitries @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @drewsphswife @just-lilita @bvrnxy @crempuffie @erintaro @skyfire93 @my-little-evil-blog @alexalix-z@littlemiss-it-girl

[tearsof-scarlet]

The Wrong Target

Pairing: Josh Washington x afab!reader Spoilers for the game Until Dawn!  Warnings: MDNI /// Psychological Horror // Quite smutty (Josh is a bit rough) // Josh is a bit creepy at parts // Blood, some gore // Swearing // Mentions of Death and Loss // Trauma and Survivor's Guilt //Mental Illness // The word “crazy” is used in this story purely to aid the narrative in depicting Josh’s mental breakdown. I do not agree with this terminology.

Summary: Josh and you have always been too shy to recognize the connection between you. Just as you finally start to explore what might be, the mysterious disappearance of his sisters forces everything to a halt. A year later, he invites you and his friends back to the old lodge to relive the past and maybe, this time, you’ll find the courage to finally confess your feelings for Josh. Words: 19.3k (Buckle up lol)

A/N: Please note the events in this fic do not exactly add up with the canon gameplay! I finally got to play the remastered version of Until Dawn, and I have fallen back down into the rabbit hole. I am so happy to see the fandom is still going strong. This is the longest fic I've ever written, and I'm exhausted. I don’t know how people do it lol.

The weight of your bag dug into your shoulder with every step, a dull ache that had been growing since the base of the trail. The icy air bit at your cheeks, turning your breath to mist as you trudged through the thinning woods. Just when your patience began to wear thin, the silhouette of the old cable car station finally emerged through the trees, weathered, silent, and waiting.

You scanned the clearing, half-hoping to spot a familiar face, but it was empty. The silence pressed in around you, broken only by the crunch of snow beneath your boots. You pulled out your phone for the fifth or sixth time, still no signal. A part of you knew it was a long shot, but you'd held onto the hope that someone else might be running late too. Maybe Mike or Sam.

The cable car sat still on its track, slightly tilted, like it hadn’t been used in years. Rust clung to its metal joints, flaking off in orange smears. You grabbed the handle and pulled. The door groaned open with a reluctant squeal. You tossed your bag inside and followed, the cold metal floor shuddering under your weight.

With a mechanical jolt, the cable car lurched into motion, the squeal of the pulley system echoing off the mountainside as it dragged you higher and higher into the snow-covered peaks. Inside, it was barely warmer. You rubbed your hands together and slumped into the cracked seat, pulling your phone out again to distract yourself from the groaning of the cables and the increasingly distant ground below. No bars.

You flicked through apps aimlessly, your thumb eventually wandering back to your messages. There, buried near the top, was one from Josh. You tapped it.

“Hey ______, I’m planning a weekend up at the lodge. I want it to be just like old times. Snow, booze and some questionable decisions. I really hope you can make it. Wouldn’t feel right without you. You in? :)”

You stared at the message for a long moment, your thumb hovering. He never said it outright, but all of you knew what the date meant. Almost a year to the day since the night Hannah and Beth disappeared into the snow. Maybe Josh just wanted to feel close to them again or this was his way of honouring them.

The cable car jolted with a loud metallic screech, making your phone slip from your hands and clatter to the floor. You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts, and looked up just in time to see the platform ahead. The car had reached the top. Letting out a breath, you grabbed your bag and jumped out, glad to be done with the rattling machine.

You glanced around, but the area was still empty. No sign of your friends. The snow-covered path ahead stretched into the trees, quiet and undisturbed. Your eyes landed on the numerous footprints. Several of them trailed off into the woods, a good sign that the others hadn’t gone far. You rubbed your arms against the cold, then started walking, following the trail.

The air was still, but every few steps a sound from the forest made your ears perk up. Twigs cracked, branches shifted, and even though you kept telling yourself it was probably just the wind or small animals, your head kept turning toward the noise. You shook it off and kept going, focusing on the prints ahead, trying not to let your imagination get the better of you.

The snow crunched steadily beneath your boots as you followed the trail, head down, breath fogging in the cold. The forest around you was still unnervingly quiet except for the occasional creak of trees shifting under the weight of snow. You kept walking, trying not to think too hard, trying not to look too long into the thick shadows between the trunks.

Then you heard it.

A sound sharp, high, and fast cut through the air. Not a scream exactly, but not an animal either. Something in between. It echoed once, then vanished. Your footsteps stopped. The woods suddenly felt heavier. You stood still for a second, listening.  Then another sound, deeper this time. A scraping? No, more like something dragging across bark. It came from up ahead, off the trail and into the thicker trees.

You turned slowly toward it, brow furrowed, trying to spot the source through the branches. Your heartbeat picked up as you took a cautious step forward.

Then -

Warm hands suddenly settled on your shoulders.

You flinched hard, letting out a scream. You spun around, gasping and there was Josh, grinning, too close, his eyes crinkled with mischief.

“Woah, easy,” he said, laughing softly. “Just me.”

“Jesus, Josh!” you snapped, hand clutching your chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He broke into full laughter at your reaction, clearly proud of himself. That only made it worse.

Fuming, you shoved at his chest, hard. “Asshole.”

He barely moved, like he was planted there. “Wow,” he said, grinning. “Is that all you’ve got?”

You scowled, but there was a flicker of a smile tugging at the edge of your mouth.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he said, utterly unapologetic. “You had that little forehead-crinkle thing going. It was too tempting.”

Your breath was still catching up with your heart. “I thought you were-” You glanced back toward the trees, then shook your head. “Never mind. Did you hear that noise?”

Josh didn’t answer right away. His smile faltered, just slightly. His hands, still gently resting on your arms, gave a light squeeze.

“Woods are creepy this time of year,” he said after a beat, tone light but not entirely convincing. “They whisper. Crack. Groan. Just nature doing its spooky thing.”

You looked up at him. He was obviously teasing you attempting to scare you. He was watching you carefully, the humour softening in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, more gently now. “You seemed… off.”

You opened your mouth to reply but stopped. The wind blew snow down through the trees like falling ash. For a second, everything felt far away.

“I’m fine,” you said quietly. “You just surprised me.”

Josh stepped a little closer, his voice dropping to something softer. “Come on, it’s freezing out here.”

Without needing to ask, he slipped the strap of your bag off your shoulder and swung it onto his own back with ease. You let him. As the two of you started walking, the tension slowly gave way to quiet conversation, light small talk, nothing heavy. It was almost comfortable.

Then a question crept into your mind.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?” you asked, eyeing him. “You weren’t even on the trail.”

Josh shot you a crooked grin. “I was coming down to get you. You were the last to arrive. As usual.”He bumped your shoulder playfully, and you rolled your eyes.

“And you knew I’d arrived?” You raised a brow at him.

Josh grinned to himself like he’d been caught. “Not exactly. I was on my way down to wait at the cable car. Figured you’d show up sooner or later.”

You let out a short laugh. “And stand around in sub-zero temps just in case I showed up?”

“Obviously,” he said, tone casual. “Couldn’t have you walking up here alone.”

The simple answer hit harder than you expected. That quiet thoughtfulness buried beneath his usual sarcasm tugged at something in your chest. You hadn’t expected anyone to meet you, especially not him.

You glanced sideways at him, but he was looking straight ahead now, snow crunching beneath his boots like it didn’t mean anything.

You weren’t really sure what was happening between you and Josh anymore. You hadn’t spoken since the incident. Even before that, things had been... blurry. Pulled apart by time, distance, and whatever it was Josh was going through.

Your vision finally caught the outline of the lodge, rising like a shadowy monument through the trees. Relief bloomed in your chest. The idea of a warm fire, and maybe a beer or two, was already making you feel warmer.

As you and Josh approached the door, he moved ahead to open it. But instead of letting you in, he stopped, one hand on the knob, the other braced against the doorframe, his body angled to block your way.

“Josh,” you groaned, crossing your arms. The cold was slicing through your coat. “Seriously? We’re gonna freeze to death out here.”

Josh laughed at your dramatic pout, eyes lighting up.

He laughed at your dramatic pout, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Still cute when you whine,” he muttered, mostly to himself. His words caused your checks to flush at the flashbacks of him and you appeared in your mind. You rolled your eyes in an attempt to still appear annoyed at him.

“I know, I know,” he said louder, glancing back at you. “I just… wanted to say something before we go in.”

You blinked. The cold stung your face, but you stayed still. He hesitated, his expression softening. His voice dipped, more serious.

“Before we go in, I wanted to say something. I want tonight to be… good. I want everyone to have fun. And I don’t want you here because you feel bad for me.”

You opened your mouth to object, but he held up a hand, gently cutting you off.

“I mean it. I want tonight to feel normal. No grief. Just dumb jokes and too much alcohol and, I don’t know, something that feels like before.”

He looked at you then, really looked. And despite the grin tugging at his lips, there was something earnest behind his eyes. Something fragile.

“I’m really glad you came,” he added quietly.

Your heart tugged. You reached out and rested a hand on his arm, smiling up at him.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” you said. “But Josh, you don’t have to pretend everything’s fine. We’re here because we care. Not out of pity.”

He nodded, looking down at his feet like he needed a second to gather himself. Then he laughed softly, shaking off the moment.

“Okay, okay emotional speech over. Get inside before you turn into a popsicle.”

You grinned. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not letting me freeze my ass off.”

You both laughed as he opened the door, warm air rushing out to greet you. The sound of voices and music echoed through the lodge, familiar and alive. The past might’ve still hung in the corners of the place but for now, for just this night, it could wait.

Hours had passed since you’d arrived with Josh. After the hugs, the “I missed yous,” and the shared glances that said more than words, everyone slowly settled into the lodge. To your surprise, the mood was light. Surprisingly light. Josh had dragged up two crates of beer from the basement to a round of cheers, and now your group was circled around the fire he’d built, basking in warmth and buzz.

You’d lost count of how many beers had been passed around. Mike was deep into a ridiculous story about catching Matt and Emily making out last summer, complete with dramatic reenactments, and the group was in stitches. The alcohol gave you that warm, floating feeling, but even without it, you felt strangely at ease.

Josh’s arm had somehow ended up draped over your shoulders. You weren’t sure when it happened. You hadn’t pulled away. Every so often, you caught him looking at you out of the corner of your eye and when you glanced back, he’d already be looking somewhere else, as if he hadn’t been staring at all. Still, you couldn’t help the stupid smile on your face. You felt like some lovesick schoolgirl with the dumb grin on your face.

While Mike kept rambling, Sam stood up from the couch and stretched.

“Well, my beer bottle’s officially a graveyard,” she said. “I’m going to grab more from the basement.”

You sat up, finishing the last sip of your own drink and blinking at the sudden wave of dizziness.

“Me too,” you said, standing a little too fast. “I’ll come with.”

Your balance shifted, the alcohol tugging you briefly back toward the couch, but you caught yourself and laughed.

“Perfect,” Sam said, falling into step beside you. “Let’s go.”

As the two of you started toward the basement door, Josh’s voice rang out behind you.

“Careful down there, ladies,” he called with a mock-warning tone. “It’s dark. Creepy. A perfect setting for a horror movie.”

You both rolled your eyes.

“Thanks for the PSA, Josh,” Sam said over her shoulder, smirking.

You pulled the basement door open. A cold draft met you, rising up from the shadows below. The stairwell was nearly pitch black. You and Sam exchanged a glance, the kind that didn’t need words. You both pulled out your phones, switching on the flashlights. Narrow beams of white light cut through the darkness as you made your way down, step by creaking step.

“Josh seems in a good mood,” Sam said as you both carefully descended the creaky steps.

You nodded. “Yeah. Honestly? Better than I expected. I thought coming back here would bring everything back.”

It was the first time all night someone had acknowledged it; what happened last year.

“I’m sure he knows it was a horrible accident,” Sam said quietly.

You didn’t answer right away. Another silent understanding passed between you. Neither of you had been involved in the prank. You weren’t there when it happened. But you’d heard the stories, how it spiralled out of control, how no one had stopped it. Whether it was an accident or not, it had still been cruel.

You reached the shelves stacked with beer crates. The cold was more biting down here. Sam turned toward you, voice low and hesitant.

“I know we’re not supposed to bring it up,” she said, “but… I never asked. What were you doing? When it all happened?”

You bent down, grabbed a crate, and handed it to her. It was heavier than you remembered. No wonder Josh had impressed everyone by carrying two at once. No wonder you’d always thought he had some kind of quiet strength about him. You picked up another for yourself, using the moment to stall.

“God, it feels like forever ago,” you said, stalling again.

But the truth was, you remembered everything.

You remembered the cupboard in the Washingtons’ lodge stocked full of booze like some teenage dream. At some point that night, you and Josh had ended up alone. You weren’t exactly sure how it happened. You had your suspicions. Your friends had been nudging you two toward each other all evening, not so subtly.

You reached in and pulled out a half-full bottle of vodka, started pouring shots for the two of you while Josh wandered over to the stereo and flicked it on. Music thumped through the room, heavy on bass, the kind that made your bones buzz.

You were already drunk. Not tipsy, very much drunk. The kind where your vision smudged at the edges and your limbs felt like they belonged to someone else. But it didn’t stop you. You grabbed the two shot glasses, wobbling slightly as you made your way toward him, doing a half-dance, half-strut to the music.

Josh laughed at your theatrics, his smile soft and genuinely amused. “God, you’re ridiculous,” he said, taking a glass from your hand.

You stuck your tongue out at him and handed him his shot.

He raised the glass to the ceiling with mock ceremony.

“To the best night ever.”

You giggled, hiccupped, and clinked your glass to his before downing the vodka in one go. The burn lit a fire down your throat that you welcomed. The beat of the music sank into your skin. You started swaying, hips rolling in slow rhythm. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Josh watching you. Not pretending. Not even trying to hide it. His gaze moved from your face to your hips, back up. Blatant. Drunk. Honest.

“See something you like, Joshy?” you teased, arching a brow.

He stepped closer, playing along. “Just admiring your insane, once-in-a-generation dance moves.”

You laughed, loud and free. Then, bold with liquor, you grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. His fingers flexed instantly, tightening just a little. You felt them hook into the belt loops of your jeans, grounding you in place. Your hands slid up around his neck, pulling him closer until there was barely any space between you.

“You know,” you said, one hand toying with the soft hair at the back of his neck, “you’re kind of handsome when you’re drunk.”

Josh leaned in slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Just when I’m drunk?”

You smirked at Josh’s answer, your fingers still lightly playing with the curls at the back of his neck.

“I mean, you’ve always been handsome,” you admitted, eyes glinting. “But maybe the vodka is helping me say it out loud.”

Josh’s hands flexed a little more at your hips, his thumbs brushing slow, deliberate circles over the denim. His eyes stayed on you, not darting away this time, not joking it off.

“So you have been thinking about me,” he said, his tone that perfect mix of teasing and just a little vulnerable. “Kinda wish I knew that before I spent the whole summer convincing myself you hated me.”

You laughed softly, the warmth in your chest blooming outward. “I don’t hate you, Josh. I just didn’t know if you were serious.”

He tilted his head slightly. “About what?”

“Me.”

That answer seemed to hit him right in the chest. His expression changed, still smiling, but quieter now, a little more careful.

“You’re kind of hard not to be serious about,” he bluntly stated.

You blinked up at him, caught off guard.

Josh must’ve felt it too, because for once, he didn’t follow the moment with a joke or a grin. He just stood there, his eyes on you, and you saw something there that hadn’t been in his voice before, something raw, almost uncertain.

Your hand, still curled in the fabric of his shirt, tensed slightly. You weren’t drunk enough to miss what that meant.

“You really mean that?” you asked, your voice barely audible above the low hum of the stereo.

Josh swallowed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.”

Silence stretched for a beat, just the music thudding softly in the background and the sound of both your breaths. Your heart kicked up in your chest. Your fingers slipped from his shirt to his jaw before you could think twice, tracing just beneath his cheekbone.

He didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned into the touch.

His hands were still at your hips, not teasing now but steady. Grounded. His forehead came to rest against yours, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he didn’t want to say the next part but couldn’t stop himself.

“I think I’ve always meant it.”

The tension curled between you, no longer playful. It was charged now. Real. You felt the heat of his body, the closeness of his breath, the weight of everything that hadn’t been said in the months you’d spent dancing around this.

“I didn’t know,” you whispered. “I thought maybe it was just messing around. For you.”

Josh shook his head, just barely. “Not with you.”

Your noses brushed, not quite a kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Josh’s forehead still rested against yours, his hands unmoving, like he didn’t dare risk breaking the moment. His eyes flicked open, searching yours, silently asking a question he’d never spoken out loud.

You didn’t answer with words.

Instead, you leaned in just a fraction. Your lips brushed his once, testing, soft. And then again, firmer this time, like you both realized at the same time that there was no going back.

Josh kissed you like he’d been holding his breath for a year. His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you closer, and you rose onto your toes, arms curling around his shoulders. The music blurred out, the warmth of the vodka forgotten. All you felt was him and his mouth on yours, the way he tasted like liquor and something sharp underneath it.

His fingers moved slow and tentative at first. Sliding under the hem of your shirt just enough for his thumbs to brush the bare skin at your waist. Warm and steady. Possessive in the gentlest way. You shivered under his touch, not from cold but from the sudden awareness of every place your bodies touched.

Then he whispered it soft, like it wasn’t meant to be heard, his lips still barely parted from yours.

“You don’t know what you’ve been doing to me.”

You stilled for a moment, heart thudding.

He kissed you again before you could reply, slower now. Not just urgent, but tender, like he was memorizing it. Like he didn’t want to risk forgetting what it felt like. One of his hands slid up your spine, fingertips grazing each ridge of your back, pausing between your shoulder blades like he could hold you there forever.

Your breath hitched as his mouth found the corner of your lips, your jaw, the slope of your neck then returned to your mouth, almost desperately.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair now, your balance swaying. You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the heat of him pressed to you or both, but you didn’t care. Not when he was kissing you like he meant it. Like he’d never stopped thinking about it. Like he never wanted it to end.

When you finally broke apart, you stayed close his forehead pressed to yours again, both of you smiling without quite meaning to.

Josh exhaled a breathy laugh. “Wow. Okay.”

“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“And I didn’t even have to dance for it,” he joked, the smirk back but softer now.

You grinned. “Don’t get cocky. That was a charity kiss.”

“Right,” he said, nodding solemnly. “Absolutely. No personal satisfaction here at all.”

But he still didn’t let go of you.

You finally shook your head, trying to clear the fog of the moment, and glanced over at Sam.

“I was just hanging out with Josh and we kind of passed out,” you said, raising your eyebrows.

Sam smirked and gave you a knowing look. “Uh-huh. ‘Passed out,’ sure. Sounds legit.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

Sam laughed softly. “Sure. Just don’t start ‘passing out’ on me every time we need more beer.”

As you and Sam began making your way back toward the basement stairs, a sudden loud bang echoed through the concrete walls, sharp and jarring. You both froze in place, the sound slicing through the air like a crack of thunder.

Your heart jumped into your throat as you spun around, your phone’s flashlight barely piercing the thick darkness that swallowed the far end of the hallway.

Something moved.

A metallic clatter followed. A tin can, rolling slowly across the floor, its hollow rattle unnervingly loud in the silence that followed.

You and Sam instinctively stepped closer together. Your light caught just enough to see the can spin to a stop then nothing. Just black.

You felt it almost immediately, the drop in temperature, the way the air seemed to press in tighter around your skin. Your breath came out in a visible puff, and goosebumps prickled your arms despite your jacket.

Sam shifted beside you, her voice a whisper. “We should check it out, right?”

You hesitated. Every nerve in your body screamed to turn around and go back upstairs. However, curiosity, or maybe something deeper, rooted you in place.

Wordlessly, you both began inching down the hallway. Your flashlights shook slightly in your hands, casting long, twitching shadows along the walls. The silence was thick, broken only by the soft sound of your footsteps against the cold concrete.

The hallway seemed longer now, like it stretched out with every step. The air grew heavier, pressing against your lungs, and the flickering overhead bulb near the back door offered no comfort, only more shadows.

Just before you reached the rough wooden door at the very end, splintered, old, and slightly ajar. A sudden creak echoed from behind it, like something shifting just out of view.

You and Sam froze again.

Sam reached out, hand just barely brushing the door handle when—

“Hey!”

Both of you jumped nearly out of your skin as Josh’s voice rang out sharply from behind you.

You spun around to see him standing at the top of the basement stairs, bathed in faint light from above. His expression was tight, unreadable, but his voice was firm.

“You two forget how stairs work or something?” he asked, tone light but with an edge. “Come on seriously. That part of the basement’s off-limits.”

You started to protest, “We heard—”

“I know,” Josh interrupted quickly, already descending a few steps. “This place is old, okay? Pipes bang. Stuff falls. It’s nothing.”

You weren’t convinced. His tone was calm, but his eyes darted once, past you toward the door at the end of the hall.

“Come on,” he repeated, this time with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t leave me alone with Mike. He’s started doing impressions of everyone and it’s getting scary.”

You and Sam exchanged a look, unsettled but unsure. Still, you turned, following Josh back up the stairs. Behind you, the wooden door gave one final creaking groan.

Another couple of hours had passed, and the alcohol showed no signs of slowing down. Whatever buzz you'd started the night with had bloomed into full-on drunken joy. Everything felt lighter, funnier, louder. Even breathing felt easier.

Music thumped from the old stereo, something familiar with just enough bass to shake the floorboards. Someone had turned off most of the lights, leaving only the fire crackling and a few warm lamps casting a golden haze over the room.

Half the group was already passed out in corners or curled up under throw blankets, empty bottles littering the coffee table. A couple of your friends were making out shamelessly on the couch like it was freshman year all over again.

You leaned against the wooden beam by the fireplace. For the first time in what felt like forever, the house was full of laughter instead of tension. No whispered concerns, no heavy silences. Just friends being friends. You smiled, quietly to yourself, and scanned the room.

Then your eyes landed on Josh.

He was sitting in one of the armchairs across the room, slouched deep into the cushions with a half-empty bottle dangling from his fingers. He wasn’t talking. Wasn’t laughing. He was watching.

Specifically watching you.

Your smile faltered just a little, not gone but thinned. You met his gaze across the chaos, the noise, the glow of firelight.

He didn’t look away.

Something about the way he was staring made your skin prickle. Like he wasn’t with everyone else in the room. Like, somehow, he was somewhere else entirely and just wearing the mask of this moment.

But then he blinked, and the look was gone. A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He raised his bottle in a lazy toast just for you.

You smiled at him lifted your drink back at him with a small nod, unsure whether you were reassuring him or yourself.

The moment stretched, a beat too long, like the world had held its breath just for the two of you. The fire crackled again, snapping you out of it, and the sounds of your friends filtered back in, someone giggling in the kitchen, a chorus of half-drunken lyrics from the hallway where someone had revived karaoke.

You took a sip of your drink, the taste less sharp now, more like melted courage. Josh was still watching, but the smile on his face softened. Less strange. He looked tired, maybe. But in a way that made him seem honest, stripped of whatever front he normally carried.

You pushed off the beam, feeling the pleasant weight of your buzz in your limbs as you crossed the room. When you reached him, he tilted his head up lazily, still reclined in that deep chair.

“You’re quiet,” you said, standing just close enough to see the pink flush of alcohol on his cheeks.

Josh shrugged one shoulder. “I like watching people when they’re happy.”

“That’s creepy.”

He grinned. “Only when you say it like that.”

You rolled your eyes, but it tugged a smile out of you. He patted the arm of the chair in silent invitation. After a moment’s hesitation, you sat, perched on the armrest, your thigh brushing his shoulder.

His hand rose, like he might reach for your knee but thought better of it. His fingers hovered for a second before dropping again.

“I just… I like this,” he said softly. “Being here. With you. With everyone. It feels like something real, you know?”

You nodded, though something about his tone had shifted again. Quieter. Almost reverent. And behind that easy smile was something you couldn’t quite name, longing, maybe. Or maybe it was regret.

Your voice came gentler. “You okay?”

Josh looked up at you then, and for a second, the grin vanished. “You ever get the feeling that the best nights, the really good ones, always feel a little haunted?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head like he wasn’t sure either. “Like it’s too good.”

You stared at him. The firelight made shadows dance across his face. You weren’t sure if the chill that crept up your spine was from his words or the thought that Josh saw something coming that the rest of you didn’t.

Before you could ask anything more, he leaned forward slightly, voice dipping low, almost conspiratorial.

“But hey,” he said with a crooked smile, “if the world ends tonight, at least we got a hell of a send-off.”

He clinked his bottle softly against yours.

You tilted your bottle to meet his, the clink ringing faint and strange, like it echoed through something deeper than just the room. You tried to laugh it off, but the weight of his gaze lingered, and so did that feeling, like you were standing too close to something you didn’t fully understand.

Josh was still watching you, his smile quieter now. More knowing.

“You’ve got that look again,” you said, aiming for playful. “Like you’re about to say something stupid and poetic.”

His smile deepened. “Maybe I am.”

He shifted in the chair, his hand brushing your thigh lightly as he moved. Just enough to feel it, to notice he didn’t pull away. His fingers lingered there, warm through the fabric of your jeans, like a question he hadn’t asked out loud. Your heart gave a tiny, inconvenient lurch.

“You’re drunk,” you said, but your voice was soft, not scolding.

He raised an eyebrow. “A little. But not enough to make this up.”

There was a long pause. The fire cracked. Somewhere behind you, someone shouted out the wrong lyrics to whatever song was playing.

Then, deliberately, Josh turned his body toward you. One hand slid up, slow and sure, resting lightly on your waist. His thumb brushed a slow arc just above your hip.

“You’ve been in my head all night,” he murmured. “Hell, longer than that.”

You swallowed, your drink suddenly forgotten in your hand. “Josh…”

“If I’m wrong, tell me.” His voice was low, the kind that made your skin hum. “But don’t lie.”

His other hand came up, knuckles grazing your jaw, then your cheek. His fingers tucked a piece of hair behind your ear like it was the most important thing he’d ever done. You leaned into the touch before you could stop yourself.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

But you didn’t. Couldn’t.

Instead, you looked at him and saw all the things he wasn’t saying. The vulnerability hiding behind the grin. The way he was holding back, just barely, waiting for your answer.

So you didn’t answer.

You leaned down slowly, heart hammering as your forehead pressed gently to his. He closed his eyes like that one small gesture undid him.

And then, he kissed you. It started careful, almost cautious, like he still thought you might pull away. But when you didn’t, when you kissed him back, your hand curling into the hair at the back of his neck, he deepened it with a hunger that surprised even him.

His hand tightened at your waist, the other sliding behind your neck, anchoring you to him. He kissed like he was afraid this moment might vanish if he didn’t memorize every second of it. You gasped against his mouth, and he paused just long enough to breathe your name like a confession.

When you finally broke apart, the fire flickered low, casting soft, swaying shadows across the room. His lips lingered just above yours, breath warm, his gaze searching, quietly intense, like he didn’t want the moment to slip away.

You leaned in, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we go somewhere a little more private?”

Josh’s eyes lifted to meet yours. Those big brown eyes, wide and uncertain in the soft light. You could see the question written all over his face: Are you sure?

You nodded slowly, your fingers brushing gently along the edge of his jaw, your thumb tracing the faint curve of his cheek. “Yeah,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile. “I want to.”

A large grin slowly spread across Josh’s face, lighting up his features in the firelight. You couldn’t help but laugh at how easily his mood shifted at your words.

Before you knew it, he slid one arm under your legs and the other beneath your back, effortlessly lifting you out of the armchair.

You giggled, caught off guard by how strong he was as he carried you like you weighed nothing at all.

“Hey, put me down!” you teased breathlessly, but he only tightened his grip, chuckling softly.

Josh started walking toward the door, your laughter trailing behind him. Everyone else was too far gone in their own haze of alcohol and conversation to even notice.

Josh opened his bedroom door without once loosening his hold on you. Before you could even reach the bed, his lips found yours again, fierce and urgent. Pressed against the wall, your body suspended in his arms, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His hands framed you firmly on either side as you deepened the kiss.

Your hands clutched his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as the kiss deepened, electric and desperate. Josh’s breath hitched against your lips, and you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your mouth, voice low and rough, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Your heart hammered as his hands slid from the wall to your waist, gripping you tighter as if afraid you might disappear. Every inch of you burned with the need that matched his.

Josh guided you onto the bed with deliberate care, his hands cradling you as he lowered you into the softness of the sheets. His lips found yours first, slow and deep, before trailing down your neck in a series of lingering kisses. Each press of his mouth was deliberate, savoring the way your breath hitched as he found your sweet spots, sucking just enough to draw a shiver from you. A quiet moan escaped your lips as your head sank back into the pillow, surrendering to the warmth of his touch.

His hands slid beneath your shirt, the initial coolness of his fingers a sharp contrast to your heated skin but the chill quickly melted into pleasure as they traced slow, worshipful paths along your ribs. His palms rose higher, cupping the weight of your breasts with a reverence that made your back arch. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he felt how soft you were, how perfectly you fit against him. His fingers slipped beneath your bra, teasing in slow circles until your nipples peaked under his touch. You gasped, hips shifting restlessly as the sensation coiled deep in your stomach.

He didn’t rush. His mouth followed where his hands had been, kissing along the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking lightly before sucking just enough to make your fingers tangle in his hair. All the while, his hips pressed against yours in a slow, rhythmic grind, the hard length of him dragging against your core. You could feel how much he wanted you, the heat, the tension, and the ache between your thighs grew unbearable.

“Josh… please,” you whispered, voice trembling.

You felt the curve of his smirk against your skin before he finally pulled back, his darkened eyes locking onto yours as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans. He took his time, peeling them down your legs with agonizing slowness, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs just to hear you whimper. When he finally had you bare before him, he paused, drinking in the sight of your soaked underwear, his breath ragged with want.

“You’re so pretty, _____,” he murmured, almost to himself, before leaning down to kiss the inside of your knee, his lips beginning a torturously slow ascent back up your body.

His mouth took its time, tracing a slow, worshipful path up your thighs, each kiss lingering like a whispered promise. When he finally reached your core, he paused, just to look, just to savour the sight of you, your damp underwear clinging to your heat. His breath ghosted over the fabric, warm and teasing, before he pressed a single, deliberate kiss against your clothed sex. The sensation was maddeningly light, just enough to draw a soft, needy moan from your lips.

You arched beneath him, fingers twisting into the sheets, impatience simmering beneath the pleasure. You wanted more, but Josh was in no hurry. He savoured you, his hands sliding beneath your hips as he hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your underwear. He peeled them away with agonizing slowness, his lips brushing your inner thigh as he did. You barely even noticed when he tucked them into his back pocket, his little trophy, a secret he’d keep for later.

Then, without warning, he buried himself between your thighs, his mouth hot and open against you. The first slow, wet stroke of his tongue dragged a gasp from your chest, your back bowing off the bed. He groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine as he laved at your folds with deliberate, worshipful strokes. He took his time, tasting you, learning every sensitive curve before finally circling your clit with the tip of his tongue.

Your hands tangled in his hair, not to guide him, but to anchor yourself as pleasure rolled through you in thick, honeyed waves. The room was thick with the sound of his devotion, the slick, sinful noises of his mouth on you, the low hum of his satisfaction, the broken sighs spilling from your lips. He was relentless in his adoration, drinking you in like a man starved, yet every movement was controlled, every flick of his tongue designed to unravel you piece by piece.

“Josh” Your voice was a breathless plea, your thighs trembling around his head. “Please. I’m close.”

He answered with a deep, vibrating groan, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you steady. “I know, baby, I know” he murmured against you, his breath hot. “Let me feel it.”

And then he slowed down. Just to watch you squirm. Just to hear you whimper. Just to prove he could take his time, even as your orgasm coiled tight in your belly, even as your breath came in ragged, desperate gasps.

Then he surged back into you. Hungry, relentless, his mouth claiming you with the same feverish intensity as before. Your body arched, every nerve alight as pleasure crested, overwhelming, unbearable. You fisted your hands in Josh’s hair, pulling, pleading, but he didn’t relent. Even as your orgasm shattered through you, even as your thighs clamped around his head, your breath coming in broken, desperate cries, he refused to stop. His tongue dragged slow, deliberate circles, wringing out every last tremor, every aftershock, until you were writhing beneath him, oversensitive and shaking, his name a ragged gasp on your lips.

“Josh—ah!” Your voice was a broken whimper, your hips jerking away instinctively, but his grip on you was iron. He held you down, his tongue swirling slow, torturous circles around your clit, drawing out the pleasure until it hurt, until every nerve was alight with sensation.

You gasped, your back arching, your hands pushing weakly at his shoulders. “Too much—fuck, please, I can’t—”

He only hummed against you, the vibration wringing another choked moan from your lips. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you spread open for him as he dragged his tongue through your folds one more time, slow and deliberate, savouring the way your body shuddered in response.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, his voice rough with want.

You barely had time to protest before his mouth was on you again, his tongue flicking over your clit in quick, teasing strokes, coaxing another wave of pleasure from your oversensitive body. Your breath came in ragged sobs.

“No—no, I can’t—” You twisted beneath him, but he held you firm, his lips sealing around your clit, sucking gently just as your climax hit. The pleasure was sharp, almost painful in its intensity, your entire body tensing as you came with a broken cry. His tongue worked you through it, gentler now but unyielding, until you were whimpering, your hands fisting in the sheets, your voice a hoarse plea.

“Josh, please” Your voice cracked. “I can’t take anymore.”

Finally, he pulled back, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh before lifting his head. His lips were glistening, his breathing uneven, his gaze dark with satisfaction as he took in the sight of you trembling and utterly ruined.

“Fuck,” he breathed, dragging his thumb over your swollen flesh, just to hear you whine. “Look at you.”

You could only gasp, your body still pulsing with aftershocks, your mind hazy with pleasure. And when he leaned down to kiss you, slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, you melted into him completely and helplessly his.

Josh let you catch your breath, his fingers working the buckle of his belt, the slow drag of denim down his hips deliberate, maddening. He caged you in, palms pressing into the mattress beside your head, his gaze tracing your face, flushed, dazed, still trembling from his mouth. You smiled up at him, drunk on pleasure, and reached to push his hair back, your fingers lingering against his temple.

"If it hurts." His voice roughened, a sudden gravity cutting through the haze between you. "You tell me. Immediately."

You nodded, biting your lip at the way his concern twisted something warm in your chest.

"Say it." His eyes locked onto yours, unyielding.

A shiver raced down your spine. You swallowed, throat tight with want. "I want you."

His mouth brushed yours, teasing. "To what?"

The words spilled out in a breathless rush, "I want you inside me. Now."

A low groan escaped him, his forehead dropping to yours. "Fuck, you’re perfect."

He pushed into you slowly, each inch a deliberate surrender. His gaze never left your face, drinking in every flicker of pleasure, every sharp inhale as he filled you. Your eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat, your body stretching to accommodate him, a silent gasp catching in your throat. He groaned, a rough, reverent curse as he sank deeper, your warmth slick and tight around him. God, you were perfect, clenching just for him. He knew it then, with every ragged breath you shared; you were made for him.

He held there for a moment, buried deep, letting you both savour the way you fit together. Then, with a low groan, he began to move. Gentle at first, rolling his hips in slow, deliberate strokes, his hands gripping your thighs like he was afraid you’d vanish. But the tension between you was too much, the need too sharp.

His pace quickened, each thrust driving deeper, rougher, until the room filled with the sound of skin against skin, your breathless moans, his ragged curses. "Fuck, you feel—" His voice was wrecked, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you harder against him. "So goddamn perfect. So tight, so fucking sweet."

You arched beneath him, nails scraping down his back, and he growled, his rhythm turning desperate. "Thought about this," he panted, "every night. How you’d look under me. How you’d sound." His thumb brushed your cheek, his eyes dark, possessive. "You’re even better than I dreamed."

And then he was losing control completely, his thrusts turning erratic, his mouth crashing onto yours in a kiss that tasted like sweat and sin. He didn’t slow down, didn’t stop not until you were both trembling on the edge, pleasure coiling too tight to bear.

He didn’t let up. If anything, he drove into you harder, deeper, his grip on your hips ironclad as he pinned you beneath him. Every snap of his pelvis sent a shockwave through you, the slap of skin echoing like a drumbeat, relentless. You gasped his name, broken, pleading, but he only growled in response, his voice gravel and flame.

“Tell me,” He demanded, fingers pressing into your flesh. “Does it feel good? Fuck, tell me how much you love it.”

You could barely form words, your moans fracturing with each punishing thrust. He didn’t wait for an answer, just swore under his breath and pushed you further back into the bed, his mouth searing a path down your throat. “Yeah, you do,” he rasped, teeth scraping your pulse point. “Can feel how bad you need it. How fucking perfect you take me.”

His rhythm turned brutal, primal, the bedframe slamming against the wall as he chased his own release, dragging you with him. You clawed at his shoulders, his name a sob on your lips, and he groaned like the sound wrecked him. “That’s it—come on ______, let go. Wanna feel you come apart on me. I’ll take care of you.”

At his words you were coming apart, your spine arching like a snapped bow, a scream ripping from your throat as pleasure split you open, white-hot and brutal. His name wasn’t a prayer anymore, it was a filthy, shattered demand, raw as the fingers digging bruises into your hips, holding you down as you thrashed beneath him.

He fucked you through it, relentless, his own release slamming into him like a punch. A guttural groan tore from his chest as he buried himself to the hilt, pumping his cum so deep inside you that you felt it claiming you. His forehead dropped to yours, panting, your sweat and his mingling, the air between you sticky with sex and sin.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

The bed was a wreck of tangled sheets and the heavy scent of sex, but neither of you moved to fix it. He had rolled onto his back beside you, one arm draped over his forehead, his chest rising and falling in slow, satiated rhythm. The heat between you had settled into something quiet, something tender.

You turned your head to look at him, the sharp line of his jaw, the sweat-damp hair at his temples, the way his lips were still slightly parted as he caught his breath. As if sensing your gaze, he shifted, turning onto his side to face you. His fingers found your hip, tracing absent circles there, feather-light compared to the bruising grip he’d had on you earlier.

"Come here," he murmured, voice rough but warm. He didn’t pull, just waited, leaving the choice to you.

You shifted closer, and his arm curled around you, drawing you in until your head rested against his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your ear, strong and sure. His other hand brushed your hair back from your face, tucking a loose strand behind your ear before his fingers trailed down your shoulder, your arm, as if relearning you in the stillness.

"You’re shaking," he said softly.

You hadn’t even noticed, just the faint tremble in your limbs, the aftershocks of pleasure and the slow return to earth. His palm smoothed over your back, steadying.

"I’ve got you," he murmured, lips pressing against the crown of your head. "Always."

There was no urgency now, no hunger demanding more. Just the quiet between breaths, the way his thumb traced idle patterns against your skin, the way his body curved around yours like he could shield you from everything.

"You know that, don’t you?" he asked after a moment, voice low. "That I’m not letting you go."

It wasn’t a question, not really. It was a vow, wrapped in the dark and the warmth of the bed, in the way his fingers laced with yours.

“Should we head back down?” You asked him.

He shook his head, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at you with a lopsided grin.

“Go back down? And risk someone walking in on us with bedhead and judgment in their eyes? No thanks.”

You snorted. “So you’re staying in bed forever?”

“Exactly,” he said, settling deeper into the pillows. “Tell my friends and family I’ve retired. Full-time blanket burrito. Part-time cuddler.”

You cringed at his corny response, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss just behind your ear.

“Besides,” he murmured, “why would I leave when you’re literally right here being all soft and gorgeous and mine.”

You felt your cheeks warm as he pulled the blanket higher around both of you.

“Wake me up in five to seven business days,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, let the weight of him, the scent of him, the safety of him, sink into your bones. Before you knew it, the sound of his heartbeat lured you to a deep sleep.

Something in the house stirred you awake.

You let out a quiet groan and buried your face into the pillow, trying to cling to the last threads of sleep. Your head throbbed with a dull ache at your temples, the unmistakable consequence of too many drinks and too little water. You immediately regretted everything you had consumed that night.

Still half-asleep, you stretched your arm across the bed, expecting to feel the familiar warmth of Josh beside you. But your fingertips brushed only cool sheets. You blinked, confused, and lifted your head slightly, letting your eyes adjust to the dim light filtering in through the curtains.

Josh was gone.

Frowning, you sat up fully, pushing the blankets aside as you glanced around the room. His clothes were missing from where he’d left them. The space where he had been lying was already cool to the touch. He hadn’t just gone to the bathroom.

You rubbed a hand over your face, trying to make sense of it. He hadn’t said anything about leaving, and there was no note or message left behind. You knew he was the host tonight. Maybe someone downstairs had needed something, or he was helping clean up the inevitable chaos. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy that he had left so quietly.

The house had gone unusually still. No music. No voices. No footsteps on the creaky stairs. Just the low hum of silence pressing against the walls.

You grabbed your clothes from the floor and quickly dressed, your ears straining for any sign of movement, footsteps, voices, laughter, anything to suggest someone else was awake.

But there was nothing. The silence felt unnatural, like the house was holding its breath.

You hesitated at Josh’s bedroom door, hand on the knob. You wanted to call out, but something about the stillness made you stop. You didn’t want to be the one to break it.

Maybe everyone was still asleep. Maybe it was early. You had no idea what time it was, your phone was still somewhere in the chaos of the night before.

You opened the door slowly and stepped into the hallway, every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet sounding ten times louder than it should. The air was colder out here, biting at your skin.

You made your way down the stairs, the wood groaning softly under your weight, and entered the main room where everyone had been drinking and laughing just hours ago.

The fire had long since died, leaving only a faint smell of smoke in the air. Empty beer bottles and red plastic cups littered the tables and floor. A few blankets were still bunched up on the couch, but no one was under them.

A quiet, creeping urgency bloomed in your chest.

You moved faster now, checking the kitchen, the side room, even peeking down the hall toward the guest bedrooms. Nothing. No signs of anyone. It was like they had all just vanished.

Your heartbeat pounded faster, the silence around you growing heavier with every second.

They wouldn’t have gone outside, not in weather like this. You turned toward the front windows, where snow fell in thick, relentless waves, burying the world in white. The storm had only intensified since nightfall. No one in their right mind would leave the safety of the cabin now.

But your friends hadn’t been thinking clearly. The drinks, the laughter, the stupid jokes. What if one of them had dared the others to step outside? The thought sent a jolt of panic through you, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t just sit here until morning, pretending everything was fine. Not when they might be out there, lost in the freezing dark.

Hands trembling, you jammed your feet into your boots and snatched your jacket from the hook. Every second wasted was another second the storm swallowed them whole. You had to find them before the mountain had them forever.

As you shrugged on your jacket and turned toward the front door, something caught your eye. The bathroom door stood slightly ajar, swaying with an eerie, rhythmic creak. The wind, you told yourself. It had to be the wind, someone must’ve left the window open. But the logical explanation did nothing to stop the icy prickle of dread crawling up your spine. Your mind conjured images of shadowed figures lurking just out of sight, watching from the darkness.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself toward the bathroom. The floorboards groaned under your weight as you inched closer, each step too loud in the suffocating silence. With a shaky breath, you pushed the door open.

Cold air rushed over you. The window gaped wide, snowflakes swirling inside like spectral fingers. Your gaze darted across the empty room, searching for movement, for anything. Then you saw it.

The mirror.

Dark, crimson letters smeared across the glass, still glistening wet. Your hand flew to your mouth, stifling a gasp. The metallic tang of blood hit your nostrils. Your lungs locked. A scream clawed at your throat, but terror had stolen your voice. All you could do was stare, frozen, at the words staring back at you:

WELCOME BACK

The words were scrawled across the mirror in dark, dripping red. You couldn’t stop staring. The letters were uneven, smeared like they’d been written in a hurry or by someone who wanted them to look that way. Blood slid slowly down the glass, a thick line breaking through the last word.

Your body locked in place, fear rooting you to the spot. Every hair on your arms stood up. You didn’t need to touch it to know it was real.

Whoever wrote that they were here. And you were alone.

Your breath hitched as the cold from the open window bit deeper into your skin. The storm outside no longer felt like the danger, it felt like the only way out.

You turned and ran, the sound of your boots pounding on the floor loud in the silence. The walls seemed to close in as you sprinted through the hallway, adrenaline numbing your fingers as you grabbed for the front door.

Your hand was just about to touch the knob when you heard it.

A muffled scream.

You froze.

It was distant, but unmistakable. Ragged, broken, and coming from somewhere deeper inside the lodge. Someone was here and they were screaming for help.

Your body shook as dread gripped you tight. You knew exactly where the scream had come from, the only place you hadn’t checked.

The basement.

Every instinct screamed at you to run. To get out, to find help, to survive. But you also knew it would be too late. Help wouldn’t come fast enough. And if someone was still alive, every second mattered.

Without giving yourself time to reconsider, you turned and headed for the basement door.

You opened it slowly, trying not to breathe too loud. When you and Sam had been down here earlier, it was dark, but now, it was pitch black. A suffocating kind of dark. You cursed under your breath and fumbled for your phone, the small flashlight beam flickering on as you started down the stairs.

The silence followed you. Heavy. Oppressive. The kind of silence that didn’t feel empty.

At the bottom, your light skimmed across the floor, revealing overturned beer crates and broken furniture scattered across the basement. The old wooden chair Josh used to joke about being haunted now lay on its side, splintered.

There had been a struggle. No question.

You tried not to gag at the thought.

Then your flashlight caught it. The door at the end of the hallway. The one Josh had told you never to open.

It was open now. Fully.

You swallowed hard, a tight knot forming in your throat. The scream had come from there. You knew it.

Steeling yourself, you stepped forward, crossing the basement and slipping through the open doorway. What you saw on the other side made your skin crawl.

It wasn’t just a room.

It was another section of the basement entirely. Narrow hallways branched off in different directions, lined with doors, storage rooms, utility closets, you couldn’t tell. The space felt hidden, secret. Like it wasn’t meant to be found.

That’s when you heard the scream again.

This time it was louder, clearer. Raw and panicked, echoing off the walls. And this time, you could make out the voice.

Ashley.

This time, your body didn’t freeze. Adrenaline surged like a current through your veins, propelling your legs into motion. You sprinted toward the sound of her scream, heart hammering, breath shallow. As you rounded a corner, the screaming doubled. Ashley’s voice now joined by Chris’s, both echoing in distorted waves through the concrete walls.

Your fear didn’t slow you. It sharpened you.

You turned the final corner and there they were.

Ashley and Chris were backed against the far wall, their faces bone-white in the dim light. Between you and them stood a mountain of a man, his silhouette swallowing the space. The grotesque Halloween mask leered at them, the eye holes black and depthless.

He didn’t notice you enter.

He was focused entirely on them, moving in slow, deliberate steps. In one gloved hand, he held a damp cloth, soaked with something dark and unidentifiable. You didn’t want to guess what it was meant for.

Chris and Ashley’s eyes snapped to you then widened.

You lifted a finger to your lips and silently begged them not to speak.

The masked man kept advancing.

Silently, your gaze swept the room. A weapon. Anything. Sweat stung your eyes as you spotted it, an empty beer bottle, half-hidden under a toppled crate. You snatched it, the glass slick in your palm. You clutched the neck tightly in your hand. Every muscle tensed as you crept forward, the floorboards mercifully silent beneath you.

You were close now. Just behind him.

Ashley’s eyes flicked from him to you again.

That did it.

The man’s head twitched, he sensed it. He sensed you.

You screamed and brought the bottle down with everything you had. Glass exploded against the back of his head. He roared in pain, stumbling forward, one hand clamped to his skull. Blood seeped from under the mask, but he didn’t go down.

The mask had taken the worst of the blow.

“Run!” you shouted.

Chris grabbed Ashley’s wrist, dragging her toward a side exit that led deeper into the basement halls, avoiding the path blocked by the man. You turned, ready to bolt back the way you’d come.

That’s when you heard it.

A voice.

Deep. Warped. Distorted through some kind of voice modulator.

It said your name.

Your name.

Your blood went cold. He knew who you were. You ran harder, crashing through the basement door and sprinting into the hallway beyond. Behind you, you heard the thundering footsteps of boots hitting the floor. He was up. And he was coming. Now, he was after you.

Your feet pounded the floor as you tore down the hallway, your breath tearing through your throat like fire. The air was thick, damp, the walls closing in as the thunder of boots echoed behind you, closer with every second.

You flew up the stairs two at a time, nearly slipping on the top step. As you burst back into the main floor of the lodge, you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You knew the layout. You had seconds, maybe less to think.

You grabbed the nearest hall table and flipped it onto its side, shoving it hard across the floor. It scraped loudly against the wood and crashed down at the top of the basement stairs, blocking the entrance. It wouldn’t stop him, but maybe it would slow him. You ran again, past the flickering firelight of the main room, dodging fallen chairs and discarded beer bottles.

He was coming.

You could feel it. That awful, unrelenting presence behind you like gravity itself.

You turned sharply into the back hallway, eyes searching for any door, any place to hide. Your chest burned, your legs already heavy. You stumbled into a guest room, slammed the door shut, and pressed your back to it, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your breathing.

A long moment passed.

Silence.

Then the crash of wood splintering. The table at the top of the stairs had been obliterated. The makeshift barricade hadn’t bought you more than a few seconds.

He was inside. He was hunting you now.

Inside the guess room you immediately scanned the space. A bed. A closet. A dresser. No time to think. You dropped to the floor and slid beneath the bed, pressing yourself flat against the cold, dusty boards, forcing your breath to stay silent.

The moment stretched endlessly.

Then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the stairs echoed through the lodge. He was already upstairs, and his heavy footsteps thudded against the floor as he moved through the halls, methodically checking rooms one by one.

The hallway creaked under his weight. Then the doorknob turned, slowly.

The door opened with a soft groan, and his boots stepped into the room.

He stood there for a moment, perfectly still, and you could almost feel his presence filling the space. Your heart pounded so loudly you were convinced it would give you away.

Then his voice filled the silence, low and drawn out, distorted through the modulator.

“I seeeee you…”

Your breath froze. His boots shifted slightly as he stepped forward.

“You always had to go and help them, didn’t you?” he said, voice calm, almost amused. “Couldn’t leave the lodge like the rest of them.”

He crouched down.

From under the bed, you saw his gloved hand press to the floor just inches away from your face. He tapped his fingers slowly, rhythmically, like he was thinking, maybe savouring the moment.

“Hiding… really?” he murmured. “You’re smarter than that.”

Your entire body tensed. You didn’t move, didn’t breathe, barely blinked.

“I could drag you out right now,” he said, tone almost playful. “But where’s the fun in that?”

He stood again.

His boots turned and walked back toward the door. As he reached the hallway, his voice drifted back, distorted and singsong.

“I’ll give you a head start.”

Then the door clicked shut behind him.

You stayed frozen, still flat against the floor, too afraid to believe he was gone. The house had gone quiet again, but you knew the silence didn’t mean safety.

He was still here.

And now he was hunting.

You stayed pressed to the floor, waiting until your breathing slowed and the roar of your heartbeat dulled in your ears. Your hands were still shaking, the weight of what had just happened sinking in fully now. Somewhere in the house, that masked man was still moving. Still searching.

You couldn’t stay here. Not alone.

A plan began to form through the haze of fear. You had to find Chris and Ashley. Being together gave you a chance, splitting up would only make you easier targets. If you could get back down to the basement quietly, carefully, maybe you could all find a way out together.

You crawled out from under the bed and rose to your feet as slowly and silently as possible. Every creak of the floorboard made your skin tighten, but the room remained still. Just the low hum of the wind pressing against the lodge.

You slipped the door open a crack and peered into the hallway. Empty.

The hallway stretched out in eerie silence, every shadow too long, every corner too dark. You slipped out, closing the door behind you with barely a click. With each step, you kept low, your body tense and alert, listening for any shift, any breath that wasn’t yours.

You reached the staircase and paused at the top.

The darkness below yawned open, wide and waiting. Somewhere down there, Chris and Ashley were still hiding hopefully. You swallowed hard and began to descend, one step at a time, your hand trailing the banister to steady yourself. The wood creaked faintly beneath your weight, but you couldn’t stop now. You had to keep moving.

At the bottom of the stairs, you stopped to listen again.

Still nothing.

You turned down the hallway, the one leading toward the section of the basement where you last saw them. The silence pressed harder now, as if the air itself didn’t want to breathe. You reached a closed door, one you hadn’t checked before.

Maybe they were hiding in here. Maybe they’d found another way through.

You curled your fingers around the handle, turned it slowly, and eased the door open just a crack.

And froze.

He was there.

Standing on the other side, just inches away.

The masked man.

You stared straight into the empty black eyeholes of his mask. He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He was just standing there as if he’d been waiting for you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He tilted his head.

Just a little.

Like he was smiling.

The eyeholes of the mask stared through you, and for a second, your brain refused to believe it was real.

Then he moved.

Just a shift of his shoulders, a slight step forward but it was enough.

You screamed.

The sound tore out of you before you could stop it, sharp and panicked, echoing off the concrete walls. You stumbled back from the door, heart in your throat, breath ragged.

Your first instinct was to turn and run upstairs. Just get away. Put space between you and that thing, that man, whatever he was.

But you stopped yourself.

Chris and Ashley were still down here. Hiding. Waiting. Maybe bleeding.

You couldn’t leave them.

You spun and ran, not back upstairs, but down the hall, toward the far side of the basement. You didn’t hear him behind you at first, but you felt him. The floor seemed to vibrate with his footsteps as he gave chase.

You didn’t have a plan, just instinct. You turned hard at the first junction, then another, ducking into the maze of back corridors and storage rooms, trying to loop him, trying to shake him. You ducked through a low doorway, dodging a hanging pipe, nearly slipped on a damp patch of concrete but caught yourself just in time.

Behind you, the sound of his boots grew louder, closer.

You ducked into another side room, one filled with shelving and crates stacked high. You moved fast, pushing through the narrow gaps, weaving your way to the far side and slipping out just as he entered the opposite end.

You heard him stop. Then nothing.

You held your breath, pressed against the cold wall, heart hammering so loud you thought it might echo.

Had you lost him?

No. Just bought yourself seconds.

You had to get back to that side room where Chris and Ashley had gone. If you could loop through the utility corridor on the left, you might just beat him there.

You slipped back into the corridor, keeping low, your footsteps barely audible. You took a sharp left, cutting through the old utility passage with its rusted pipes and exposed wiring. Your chest burned, your legs ached, but you kept going, convinced you’d looped around fast enough to get ahead of him.

The hallway was still. Empty. You moved quietly, hugging the wall, ears straining for any hint of footsteps, breathing, anything.

Nothing.

You reached the intersection near the room Chris and Ashley had fled into, just a few steps away. Your heart lifted slightly.

Maybe you’d actually lost him.

But the moment you turned the corner -

A hand clamped down on your arm like a vice.

He’d been waiting.

He yanked you back hard, and you barely caught yourself before slamming into the wall. You screamed, twisting in his grip, but it was like being held by a wall of stone. His mask was inches from your face now, close enough to see the cracks in the paint, the dried blood on the chin. He was tall. Taller than you’d realized. Broader. Inhumanly still.

Panic surged through you. You flailed with your free hand, scrambling for anything and your fingers closed around something cold and smooth on the shelf beside you.

A vase.

Small. Decorative. Useless, until you smashed it into his forearm.

The glass shattered, sharp pieces slicing across both of you, but it did the job. He grunted and recoiled, grip loosening just enough.

You ripped free and stumbled back, your arm throbbing, tiny cuts stinging along your hand. He lunged for you again, but you ducked low and bolted toward the door.

You ducked under his arm and bolted, lungs burning, but your foot caught on a jagged piece of wood jutting from the floor. You hit the ground hard, the impact jarring up through your elbow and into your shoulder. Your scream echoed through the corridor, loud and raw. Pain exploded in your arm as you rolled onto your back, instinctively trying to push yourself up, but it was no use. The shooting ache froze your muscles, and your breath hitched in panic.

Then you heard it. The slow, deliberate sound of boots. He was coming.

You turned your head and saw him advancing through the shadows, unfazed, unhurried. The mask gleamed faintly in the dark, its hollow eyes fixed on you like a predator that already knew it had won. You scrambled backward on your elbows, dragging yourself over the cracked concrete, ignoring the sting of every movement, the burn of broken skin against the floor.

Your voice broke into a sob. “No—please—!”

But he didn’t stop.

You kicked at him, flailing, your heel catching his thigh. It barely staggered him.

His hand shot down, grabbing your ankle so tight it sent another jolt of pain shooting up your leg. You screamed again and kicked harder, clawing at the floor, reaching for anything to hold onto. But there was nothing.

He began to drag you backward, your body scraping roughly along the floor. You felt every bump, every uneven groove in the concrete biting into your spine and hips. Your jacket bunched at your shoulders as you were yanked faster now, your free leg flailing wildly.

Your screams were deafening, but they went unanswered.

You reached toward doorframes, toward corners, your fingertips grazing the wood but not catching. The further he pulled you, the darker the hallway seemed to grow, like you were being dragged into a void that existed only for you.

He turned a corner sharply, and your head hit the floor. Dizzy, disoriented, you barely registered the next motion until he stopped moving.

Then he reached down again.

With effortless force, he hoisted you into the air and slung you over his shoulder. Your stomach flipped as your body was lifted and twisted, the world tilting upside down.

You thrashed, fists pounding his back, feet kicking helplessly behind him. Your voice cracked from screaming, but you didn’t stop, not for a second.

“PUT ME DOWN! LET ME GO!”

You could barely breathe from the pressure of his shoulder against your ribs. His arm locked around the back of your legs, holding you in place like you were a bag of supplies, not a person. You felt the way his body barely shifted under your weight. You were nothing to him.

He walked forward, steady and sure, moving through the lodge like he knew it intimately.

He kicked open the front door with one brutal slam of his boot. A rush of frigid wind blasted against your face, snow catching in your hair, your lungs seizing from the sudden drop in temperature. The night outside was blindingly white, the blizzard fully alive now, howling through the trees like a pack of wild things.

You blinked through tears and snow, and there, across the yard, past the warped fence and buried stepping stones was the dilapidated shed.

The shed door groaned as he pushed it open, the blizzard’s howl immediately muffled as he stepped inside and shut it behind him. The space was small, walls lined with old tools and crates stacked with forgotten gear. It smelled of damp wood and rust. Overhead, a single hanging bulb flickered to life with a sharp click, casting the room in a pale, sickly glow.

He turned, one arm still braced around your legs, and with the other hand reached back and twisted the bolt lock on the door. Click. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the cramped space.

Then he moved toward the center of the room and dropped you unceremoniously onto a wooden stool. Your body jolted at the impact, your injured arm screaming in protest. The cold bit at your skin through your torn jacket, and the fear tightened around your throat like a rope.

“Please,” you gasped, “leave us alone.”

He didn’t respond.

He just stood there, towering, unmoving. The mask stared at you, eyes black, mouth stretched into that grotesque, permanent smile. You tried to steady your voice, but it cracked as you rambled, desperate.

“We won’t tell anyone, okay? I swear. Whatever you did, whatever you want, we won’t say a word. Just let us go.”

Still nothing.

He watched you with eerie stillness, and something about that silence made the fear even worse. You couldn’t read him. Couldn't predict him. Couldn't understand what he wanted.

Your voice broke again. “Please—”

Then he tilted his head.

“God, you’re so cute when you’re freaking out,” he said.

The voice was no longer filtered. It was familiar.

Your breath caught, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. That voice. That tone. You blinked up at him, heart pounding in your ears.

“What?” was all you managed to whisper.

Slowly, with deliberate ease, he reached up to the side of his mask. His gloved fingers found the edges, hooked under the jaw. And then he peeled it off.

The mask came away in one smooth motion, revealing a face you knew.

A face you trusted.

Josh.

Josh stared back at you, face flushed, hair damp with sweat, but his eyes weren’t the same. They were wide. Lit. Burning with something manic, something far too close to pleasure.

“Josh?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he began to laugh.

Not a chuckle. Not a smirk. A full, sudden, jarring burst of laughter that came tearing out of his throat like it had been trapped inside for too long. It echoed off the walls of the shed, too loud, too sharp, bouncing around the space like it didn’t belong.

His eyes were wide now. Wild. Glassy with some combination of adrenaline and obsession. He barely blinked as he stared at you, drinking in every flicker of your expression like it was his favorite thing in the world.

You sat frozen on the stool, confused, panting, injured, trembling, exactly how he wanted you.

“Oh my God,” he said between laughs, shaking his head with theatrical disbelief. “Wait, you thought this was real? You seriously thought this was like - some psycho in a mask coming to get you? You? Come on.”

His voice dropped low, mocking, almost sing-song.

“You of all people should know me better.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your brain was scrambling to connect dots that refused to fit together. The blood in your ears was too loud. Your pulse thudded painfully in your temple. Your injured arm throbbed with each breath.

Josh took a step closer, casual now, like this was all some kind of joke between friends. His body relaxed, but his grin didn’t fade. That grin, so wide it looked painful, so forced it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You blinked rapidly, trying to process what you were seeing.

His clothes were wrong.

Underneath the bulky jacket and mask gear, he wore layered thermal shirts and torn snow pants, mud-stained, blood-streaked. But it was the harness strapped around his torso that caught your eye. Wires. Hooks. A device clipped at his hip. A remote?

A part of you recognized the setup immediately. It was meant for effects. Speakers. Smoke. Movement. All tools to orchestrate fear.

He’d planned this.

All of it.

“Josh,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice hoarse. “What… what the hell is going on?”

He didn’t answer. Just smiled.

Then he leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing, voice low and gleeful.

“I’m just putting on a little show for our friends,” he said. “You wanted to relive the past, right? Well, welcome back to Blackwood.”

You stared at him, still trembling, your entire body screaming to move, to run, to understand. But nothing made sense.

“What are you planning, Josh?” you asked, your voice uneven. “What is this?”

That grin didn’t leave his face. But something behind it shifted. Hardened.

“I’m giving them what they deserve,” he said, stepping back just slightly, pacing in a lazy half-circle like he was warming up for a monologue. “After what they did last year. After what they did to Hannah and Beth, did you really think they were just going to get away with it?”

His voice turned bitter. Tight with anger. “They laughed. They joked. They filmed it. They watched them run out into the cold and none of them stopped them. None of them even cared.”

Your stomach twisted. You could barely breathe.

“I know,” you said quickly. “I know what happened, Josh. But you have to understand, they are sorry for what happened. They all regret it every day. You know I didn’t have anything to do with it. I wasn’t part of it.”

Josh stopped pacing. He looked at you, and, for a second his expression softened. Not sympathy, exactly. Just recognition.

“That’s true,” he said, nodding once. “You weren’t. You never would’ve gone along with that.”

Then his grin returned, sharper now.

“That’s why I was really hoping,” he continued, voice lowering, “that after our little activity earlier, you would’ve just passed out for the night. Slept through the whole thing. Left this to them.”

You stared, horror blooming slowly.

“But I guess that’s not like you,” he added, tilting his head with mock admiration. “Always poking around. Always trying to fix things. The brave one. The smart one. The one who makes it to the end.”

He leaned in again, eyes shining.

“The final girl in my prank.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the tremor in your voice as you pushed through the pain curling in your chest. “Josh, this isn’t fair. None of this. This is torture. You’re putting us through, it’s not justice. You’re scaring them to death. You’re scaring me. This isn’t the way.”

His eyes flickered, something like pain or frustration, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same manic fire that had never really left. He took a step closer, the cold light casting sharp shadows across his face.

“You don’t understand,” he said, voice low, raw with something like desperation.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I have to do this. I have to make them feel it. All of it. The fear. The pain. The helplessness.”

He laughed bitterly, a sound that cut sharper than any blade. “They have to feel what my sisters felt that night. The night they were broken, left to freeze and scream until everything inside them shattered.”

You shook your head, tears mixing with snowflakes melting on your cheeks. “Josh, this isn’t them anymore. People change. They’re not the same. You’re punishing us. This isn’t justice, it’s revenge twisted into something worse.”

His grin faltered, but only for a moment. “No. You don’t get to decide what this is. I’m giving them what they deserve. ”

You felt the cold tightening around your heart, realizing that no words could reach him, not now. Not when his mind had spiraled so far down that the lines between justice and vengeance, love and hate, had blurred into something dark and terrible.

Your breath hitched. “Josh, please. Please stop.”

Josh’s eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time, the fire in them wavered. Just a flicker, but it was there. A fracture in the madness. Maybe it was your trembling, the way your injured arm cradled uselessly against your side, or maybe it was the tears clinging to your lashes, too thick and heavy to hide anymore.

He faltered.

His posture shifted. The manic tension in his shoulders loosened, and his expression, still split by that horrible grin, sagged at the edges.

And then, just like that, the mask of vengeance cracked.

“Oh, baby…” he murmured, voice softening as he took another step forward. “Fuck, it hurts to see you like this.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Everything in you was screaming to run, to scream, to fight but your body had folded into itself, too stunned by pain and disbelief.

Josh crouched down in front of you, the shift sudden and intimate. His gloved hand reached out slowly, almost reverently, and he brushed the damp strands of hair from your face. His fingertips were cold, but his touch was gentle, terrifyingly so.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, voice dipped in something sickly sweet. “I didn’t want it to be like this for you. You weren’t supposed to be awake. I just needed to make it real for them.”

You shook your head, a sob crawling up your throat. “I don’t want any part of this.”

“I know, I know.” He nodded quickly, like agreeing made it better. “It’s not forever, okay? Just tonight. It’s just for tonight, and I promise, I promise, no one’s gonna get hurt. Just a scare. That’s all.”

You flinched when he tried to touch your cheek. He paused, hurt flashing through his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, “I’d never hurt you. You know that, right? You’re not like the others. You’re the only one who ever saw me.”

The words should’ve comforted you, but they felt like chains tightening around your chest.

He leaned closer, voice barely audible now. “Just trust me. Please. After tonight, it’s over.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to plead with Josh one last time but the words died on your tongue as a voice cut through the cold night like a blade.

“He’s lying, ______.”

Your head snapped toward the sound. Josh’s did too, slower, tighter, like something in him already knew what was coming.

Mike stood at the edge of the clearing, barely upright. His face was a bruised and bloodied mess, one eye nearly swollen shut, blood dried in streaks across his temple and jaw. His clothes were torn, muddied, and soaked in crimson. In his trembling hands, he held a gun, aimed straight at Josh.

“Michael…” Josh breathed, the name dry on his tongue, like dust.

You stumbled to your feet in a daze, confusion knotting in your gut. “Mike, what…?”

Mike didn’t look at you. His eyes were locked on Josh, wild with fury and grief. “Get away from him, _____,” he said, his voice low but shaking. “He killed Jessica.”

The world dropped out from under you.

Silence rang louder than any scream could. Your breath hitched, chest rising too fast, too shallow.

“Wh… What?”

Your voice was barely audible, but it cracked like glass.

Josh didn’t move. His smile was gone now. In its place was something far more disturbing: stillness. A kind of dread that sunk deep into his bones.

“He’s lying,” Josh said, shaking his head slowly, like if he denied it gently enough, it wouldn’t be real. “No, _____, please, he’s twisting this. I didn’t touch Jessica. You know me.”

You took a step back. That one step felt like a mile.

Your eyes flicked down, finally really seeing him. His clothes, soaked through in dried maroon, his gloves, the sticky sheen around the seams. You hadn’t noticed before, or maybe you had and refused to let yourself see it.

“No…” you whispered, but it wasn’t denial anymore.

It was the beginning of understanding.

Josh's voice cracked now, desperate. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t kill her. He’s setting me up. You can’t believe him over me. Not after everything, not you.”

“Jessica’s gone,” Mike said, stepping forward, the gun trembling in his hand but his aim steady. “He snapped. It wasn’t just a scare, it never was. I watched her get pulled out of the cabin.”

You staggered, bile rising in your throat. “Josh… please tell me it’s not true.”

But he didn’t answer.

His jaw clenched. His shoulders pulled tight. And for the first time, he looked… cornered.

Not wounded. Not misunderstood.

Cornered.

You saw the truth then not in words, but in the silence. In his refusal to deny it again.

Your voice was a whisper. “You said no one would get hurt.”

Josh’s eyes filled with something like sorrow. Or maybe it was regret. It was too late to tell anymore.

You stepped, slow and unsteady, but deliberate, past the cracked earth and stopped behind Mike.

Josh’s eyes followed your every move, widening with disbelief. His face twisted, something sharp and fractured passing through it.

“No…” he said, barely audible. “No, no, no.”

You stood behind Mike, not because you wanted to, not because you fully understood what was happening but because you had to. Because whatever this was, Josh had become something you couldn’t reach. And now someone had to stop him.

Josh’s jaw clenched so tightly you could hear his teeth grind. The sorrow was gone in an instant, swallowed whole by something darker.

His lip curled. “So that’s it?” he spat. “You pick him? After everything we’ve been through, you take his side?”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Your breath trembled in your throat, but you didn’t move away from Mike.

Josh stepped forward, just one pace, but it was enough to make Mike raise the gun higher.

“Oh, of course,” Josh sneered. “It’s Mike, the golden boy. The hero. Always showing up right when a lady needs saving.” His eyes locked on yours.

You flinched.

Josh’s voice pitched upward, fraying at the edges. “You think he cares about you? He didn’t even care about Jessica!”

“Shut up, Josh,” Mike snapped, the gun steady despite the tremor in his jaw. “This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it?” Josh roared, taking another step, wildness flashing across his face. “Everything is about you, Mike. You act like some noble protector, but you’re nothing. You’re just a coward hiding behind a gun and a pretty face.”

You swallowed, eyes darting between them. Josh was unraveling.

“You twisted her,” Josh hissed, voice low and venomous now, eyes never leaving yours. “You filled her head with lies. You turned her against me.”

“No one turned me,” you finally said, your voice shaking but firm. “You did that yourself.”

Josh stopped.

He looked like you had slapped him. For a breath, his rage cracked, like the wind knocked out of a storm. And then it all burned away.

His fists clenched, shaking. “You don’t mean that,” he said, voice cracking. “You love me.”

“I don’t know who you are now.” you whispered.

Mike shifted slightly, keeping the gun raised but edging closer to you. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible above the wind.

“Go. Get back to the lodge,” he said, eyes never leaving Josh. “The others are there. You’ll be safe with them.”

Your mouth opened in protest, but no sound came. You didn’t want to leave Mike here, not with him. Not after everything. But Mike didn’t give you a choice.

“I’ll keep him here,” he murmured. “I can hold him off until help comes.”

Josh didn’t speak. His breathing had gone ragged, chest rising and falling like he was on the edge of either collapsing or exploding. His eyes flicked between you and Mike, wild and lost.

You hesitated.

Your feet felt like stone, like moving them would take everything you had left. But you forced yourself to turn slowly, still feeling the weight of Josh’s gaze on your back like ice along your spine.

You stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked back one last time.

Josh was staring at you, broken and furious all at once. His mouth was trembling, the muscles in his jaw twitching like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

It was the look of someone watching their world fall apart.

You wanted to scream at him. To ask why. To tell him that none of this had to happen. But you didn’t. Because no words would change what had already been done.

So you gave him a look. A look filled with everything he had shattered: trust, hope, and something that might have once been love.

And then you turned, and ran.

Behind you, the cold wind swallowed the last of Josh’s voice as he finally shouted after you.

“Don’t leave me!”

The wind howled through the trees like a scream torn from something ancient and dying. You pushed forward along the snow-covered path, heart thundering in your chest as if it were trying to rip its way out. Every shadow flickered with menace. Every gust of air seemed to whisper your name.

You had to get back to the lodge.

You had to warn the others.

Josh had killed Jessica.

The words echoed in your skull, a sick chant that refused to fade.

Your boots crunched over frozen earth, the snow thick and unforgiving beneath your feet. Your breath came in ragged bursts, pale clouds vanishing into the icy night. But it wasn’t the cold that made your hands tremble.

It was something else.

Something watching.

Something hungry.

A noise pierced the night.

Not behind you.

Above.

It was faint, like bones clicking together. Deliberate. Wet. Wrong. You stopped cold. A primal instinct roared through you, warning you to be still, to not look up. But curiosity was a curse stronger than fear.

Your gaze rose slowly.

Perched in the skeletal branches above was a thing born of nightmare. Its gaunt limbs clung to the bark in a grotesque mimicry of a spider, joints twitching with broken rhythm. Its skin was pulled taut across a sunken frame, a death mask of muscle and sinew. Where eyes should’ve been, there were only hollow pits, black, soulless voids that somehow saw you all the same.

It tilted its head.

Its mouth unhinged, peeling open wider than anything human, revealing jagged teeth stacked in rows, each one serrated like shattered glass. Then, it screamed, a shriek that pierced the night and ripped into your skull like barbed wire.

You ran.

Branches tore at your arms as you sprinted through the trees, stumbling, gasping, slipping in the snow. Behind you, the creature leapt from the tree. Its movements were wrong, too fast, too fluid, like time bent around it.

You could feel it gaining.

You didn’t dare look back.

Your foot caught on a root buried beneath the snow. Time slowed.

You pitched forward with a strangled cry, arms flailing, then the ground gave out beneath you.

A hollow groan. A crack like thunder.

The earth opened like a mouth.

You fell.

The world tilted and you were tumbling, flailing through a shaft of crumbling soil and ancient stone. Snow and ice scraped along your arms. Rocks tore at your legs. Then impact.

You hit the bottom with a soundless cry, the air driven from your lungs. Pain exploded through your ribs, sharp and searing. For a long, breathless moment, you just lay there, blinking into the dark.

Then came the silence. It wasn’t peace. It wasn’t still.  You were somewhere beneath the world now.

The hole you fell through was far above, just a jagged mouth letting in the faintest hint of moonlight, dust falling like snow through the beam. Everything else around you was dark stone, old timber, and silence thick as oil.

You tried to stand, your limbs protested, joints trembling. You bit back a scream as you leaned against the icy wall. Your flashlight was gone.

You were in the mines.

The old ones. Abandoned decades ago after the collapse. Everyone said they were haunted.

The darkness swallowed everything. You stood there, ribs aching, heart pounding, unable to tell how deep you’d fallen, only that you were far from the surface and farther still from anything safe. Cold sweat clung to your neck, your breath rising in shaky clouds that quickly disappeared into the black.

You had to move.

Every instinct screamed it. You weren’t alone down here. Even if the Wendigo hadn’t followed you, something in the air felt… wrong. Like the earth remembered pain. Remembered blood. And it remembered you now.

You ran your hand along the wall, slick with condensation, and took one slow step, then another. The ground was uneven, gravel and wet stone crunching beneath your boots. Your hands scraped along crumbling wood supports, fingers brushing the splinters of a beam so old it sagged like tired bones.

You blinked into the dark, willing your eyes to adjust. Shapes teased the edge of your vision, broken mine carts, shattered rails snaking like ribs across the floor. Crates rotted and half-collapsed under the weight of years. The scent of old oil, rust, and wet ash clung to the air like something still burning beneath the skin of the earth.

A glint caught your eye. You stumbled forward, heart leaping with cautious hope.

There half-buried beneath a tarp and a collapsed helmet, was a handheld torch. One of the old mining ones. Your hands trembled as you pried it free, the plastic cracked, the switch stiff with age. You held your breath and flicked it on.

Click.

A flicker. Then a dim orange beam cut through the dark, casting long shadows against the stone. Relief punched through your chest. It barely reached ten feet in front of you, but it was something.

Light.

You turned in a slow circle, the beam catching more remnants of the past. Pickaxes leaning against walls, their handles warped. A dusty boot lying on its side, the other nowhere to be seen. A broken lunchbox, rust flaked off like dead skin.

You kept going.

The tunnel forked, left into a deeper corridor choked with fallen beams, right into a narrow shaft where the air seemed colder still. You chose the right, dragging your fingers along the wall to stay balanced.

Every sound made you freeze. A pebble falling. Water dripping into a hidden pool. Once, the torch flickered and your heart stopped with it.

Then something moved ahead. You froze.

No, it was just a curtain of hanging roots, trailing down from the cracked ceiling like veins. You pushed through, brushing them aside as the tunnel widened.

More signs of death littered the space. Scraps of clothing. Fingernail gouges in the wall. Symbols scratched in the stone. A helmet with a long-dead head still inside.

Panic tightened in your throat.

You had to get out.

This place wasn’t just abandoned. It had been left behind. Sealed away for a reason.

And now you were in it.

And something else might be, too.

You’d stopped keeping track of time. Down here, hours bled together into a slow, gnawing ache of cold and silence. Your legs burned. Your throat was raw from breathing dust and fear. The dim beam of the old torch flickered more often now, the battery fading like your hope.

You had climbed over collapsed rails, crawled through gaps barely big enough for your body, and descended into shafts where the walls whispered in the dark. There was no way to tell if you were deeper or closer to the surface. It all felt the same: cold, tight, endless.

At one point, you sat down, back against a support beam, the old timber groaning above and let the torch rest in your lap. You stared at the wall across from you, blank and close, like a tombstone pressed against your nose.

Maybe this was it. Maybe you’d wander forever, slowly fading away until you were just another lost story these mines refused to give up.

Your fingers trembled. Your stomach had long since stopped growling. You leaned your head back, eyes fluttering shut. Just for a second. Just to breathe.

Then you heard it.

At first you thought it was your mind cracking, like a hallucination surfacing from the dark. But then it came again.

Mumbling.

Soft. Erratic. Human.

You froze, heart snapping to attention. The sound drifted faintly through one of the side tunnels, like someone speaking just out of earshot, voice fractured and low, words tangled in themselves.

You didn’t know whether to scream or cry.

But you rose. You kept the torch low, your steps cautious, almost silent. The air grew thicker, fouler. A rank, sweet stench clung to the stone like something dead had been soaked into it. As you rounded the corner, the sound sharpened. Words now. Rambling. Repeating.

You crept forward and then -

There he was. Josh.

Standing alone in a wide chamber, barely lit by the flicker of a dying flame from an old miner’s lantern. He rocked on his feet, arms wrapped around himself, clothes torn, hair wild and matted. His skin was pale, streaked with dirt and dried blood. His lips moved constantly, whispering to someone who wasn’t there.

“They took her. But they laughed... it wasn’t funny, I told them. I told them not to laugh!” He scratched his arms, as if something crawled beneath the skin.

Your stomach twisted. He wasn’t just lost. He was gone.

“Josh,” you said, stepping into the light.

He didn’t react at first. He kept talking, muttering about the prank, about Hannah, about the Wendigos. Then he turned slowly, eyes glassy and wide.

“Do you see them?” he asked, voice childlike. “They’re still here. They’re everywhere. I can’t sleep, not with the chewing. They’re in my head.”

“Josh… it’s me. Look at me.” You stepped closer, voice gentle but urgent. “It’s over. You're not alone.”

He blinked, face twitching, as though some part of him recognized you but didn’t know how. His lip trembled. “They’re mad at me... They’re all mad at me.”

You reached out and grabbed his shoulders. “Josh. Stop. You need to come back.”

His breathing hitched, the tension in his body wavering like a frayed wire ready to snap. He stared at you, confused. Scared. And then his eyes welled with tears.

“I just wanted it to be funny,” he whispered. “I just wanted them to feel what they felt.”

You nodded slowly, trying not to let your own fear show. “We’ll talk about it. We’ll get help. But not here. Not in this place.”

Josh’s breath hitched as the tears spilled over, tracking through the grime caked on his cheeks. For a moment, he stood trembling. Then something shifted behind his eyes. Clarity. Recognition.

His wild gaze locked onto yours, and it was like watching a storm pass through him, leaving only ruin and something fragile in its wake.

“________?” His voice cracked. “Is it really you?”

Before you could answer, he lunged forward and threw his arms around you, clutching you like a lifeline. He buried his face in your shoulder; his body wracked with sobs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of it. I didn’t. ”

His voice broke. “I didn’t kill Jessica. It was the creatures. The creatures. But she is still alive! I swear, I tried to stop them, but, I couldn’t, I couldn’t do anything—”

You tightened your grip around him, grounding him. “I believe you, Josh. I believe you.”

He choked out a breath, clinging to your jacket like a child. You let him cry. Let the years of guilt and horror pour out of him into the quiet.

“I didn’t want anyone to die,” he murmured into your chest. “It was supposed to be a joke. A dumb joke. I just wanted them to feel what my sisters felt. But it all went so wrong.”

You pulled back slightly, lifting his face. “You’re not alone anymore. But we have to get out of here, Josh. This place, it’s not going to let us go easy. You have to tell me. How did you get into the mines?”

He blinked, sniffled, then nodded, wiping at his face with a dirt-smeared sleeve. “There’s a passage. It’s not far. It leads out past the western cliff. I can show you.”

He turned and pointed to a narrow cave mouth behind one of the rusted mine carts you hadn’t thought to check before, half-buried by rubble, almost invisible in the dark.

You swallowed your nerves and wrapped your arm around his. He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Slowly, the two of you began walking toward the hidden tunnel, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls, the weight of the mine pressing in behind you like a final warning.

The torch sputtered but held on.

One way or another, you were getting out of this place.

You moved through the narrow tunnel, Josh’s arm barely resting on your shoulder. The air was stale but less suffocating than the open mine chambers behind you. For a while, the only sound was your own breathing and the scraping of boots on stone.

Josh broke the silence, his voice low and rough. “I don’t even know how I got this far gone. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I could fix everything. But it just... fell apart.”

You glanced at him. The exhaustion in his eyes was something you’d never seen before. “You didn’t lose yourself, Josh. You were caught in something you couldn’t control. You fought, even if it didn’t feel like it.”

He gave a humorless laugh that barely hid the pain. “Fought? Felt more like drowning. I was supposed to keep everyone safe. And I failed you. I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“No one could have stopped this,” you said, voice steady. “Not alone.”

He looked down, voice barely audible. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

You squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. We’re not done yet.”

You kept walking, the faint light from the tunnel’s exit growing stronger.

“What happens when we get out?” you asked quietly.

Josh hesitated. “I don’t know. I just want to stop feeling like this. To get some kind of normal back.”

You nodded. “We’ll get there. First, we get out.”

The faint glow at the end of the tunnel grew steadily brighter, each step forward carrying the promise of fresh air and escape. The stale, suffocating atmosphere of the mines seemed to thin with every meter, and for the first time in hours, you dared to imagine the end was near. Your lungs burned with the effort, but hope flared in your chest like a fragile flame.

Then, shattering the fragile silence, a scream ripped through the darkness ahead. It was a gut-wrenching, agonized howl that clawed its way into your bones and refused to let go. The sound was raw, unearthly, filled with pain and primal hunger, echoing off the jagged stone walls with an eerie resonance that made your skin crawl.

Your breath caught, heart hammering so loudly you feared it would give you away. You froze in place, every muscle taut with dread. Josh’s face was pale and drawn in the flickering light of the torch. His eyes widened, reflecting the same terror clawing at your throat.

Out of the blackness stepped a monstrous shape, tall and impossibly thin, its limbs twisted at grotesque angles, scraping the tunnel walls as it moved with an unnatural, jerking grace. The Wendigo.

Its skin hung tight over its bones, a patchwork of grey, stretched like old leather. Its empty eye sockets burned with cold, malevolent intelligence, and the faint glow of the torchlight caught on its razor-sharp claws as they scraped against the rock floor, producing a sound like nails dragged over a coffin lid. The thing blocked the only exit.

Your breath hitched. Terror gripped you like icy fingers squeezing your heart.

You pressed a finger to your lips, voice barely more than a trembling whisper, “Josh… be quiet. Maybe if we move slowly, we can slip past it without it noticing.”

Josh’s gaze was fixed on the creature, and something fierce flickered behind his eyes, a desperate resolve that didn’t belong to the broken man you’d found in the depths of the mines. He shook his head slowly, his voice low and strained, “No. There’s no way we can both get past it.”

His eyes locked on yours, an unspoken understanding passing between you in that heavy, silent moment. You could see what he meant, he wasn’t just admitting defeat, he was telling you he would do whatever it took to protect you, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

His shoulders tightened as if bracing for something unbearable. “I can’t do this. Not if it means you’ll get hurt.”

Your heart pounded violently in your chest, a mix of fear and fierce determination flooding through you. You shook your head vehemently, your voice raw but steady, “No, Josh. We both get past this.”

You grabbed his arm tightly, burning eyes searching his face. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

The Wendigo snarled, a chilling sound like dry bones scraping together. It took a step forward, closing the gap, its presence suffocating and filled with ancient, insatiable hunger. The cold, dead weight of its stare pressed down on you, a living nightmare poised to strike.

But you stood firm, your pulse raging in your ears, the flickering torchlight casting monstrous shadows on the walls around you.

Josh’s hand suddenly shot out and gripped your wrist, yanking the torch from your grasp. The flame wavered, casting wild shadows that danced violently along the rough walls. His eyes, so fierce moments before, softened, filled now with a tenderness that cut through the terror like a knife.

“Stop,” you whispered, voice trembling but steady. “Don’t do this. Not like this.”

You stared back, breath shallow, heart pounding louder than ever. The weight of the Wendigo’s presence was still heavy behind you, but in this fragile moment, it all felt distant, like a fading nightmare you were both desperately clinging to.

Josh stepped closer, his hands trembling as he held the dying torch between you, the flame flickering dangerously low. His gaze locked onto yours, the softest, most vulnerable look you’d seen from him all night, like he was finally laying down the last pieces of himself.

“I had the pleasure of telling you how I felt about you all these years,” he said, voice breaking with a fragile honesty. “Just for that…, I’m the happiest man on earth.”

For a heartbeat, everything around you stopped, the darkness, the fear, the endless mines. There was only him, and you, suspended in a moment that felt impossibly real and impossibly fragile.

Then, slow and deliberate, Josh leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with a gentleness that startled you. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, like the first tentative step after a lifetime of silence.

It was delicate, fragile, but full of something fierce and true hope, maybe, or love caught in the ruins of everything else.

“Now go,” Josh whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with a quiet urgency. Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward into the dim tunnel, the dying torch held out in front of him like a fragile shield. This left you away in the dark, away from the deathly eyes of the wendigo.

You barely had time to react before Josh began sweeping the torch wildly through the air, the flickering light carving frantic shapes against the cold stone. The Wendigo’s head snapped toward the sudden movement, its empty eye sockets burning with cruel awareness. A low, guttural growl rumbled from deep within its throat as it started to shift forward, drawn by the wavering flame and the presence of Josh.

You didn’t even notice your feet moving, pulled by some primal instinct, inching silently toward the exit. Every step was heavy with fear and disbelief, your hands trembling as you fought to hold back the sobs rising in your throat. The cold air brushing against your skin was a cruel reminder that the outside world was still real, that you might still survive this nightmare.

Your eyes never left Josh, who now stood alone between you and the monstrous creature. Gone was the wild, broken figure from earlier. In his place stood the boyish man you had fallen for, flawed, fragile, but fiercely brave.

As you reached the rusted gate marking the mine’s mouth, you forced yourself to pause, turning your head for one last look back. The torchlight illuminated Josh’s face, worn but resolute, a faint, sad smile curling his lips. His eyes locked onto yours, and though he didn’t speak, you saw him mouth the words:

“I love you.”

A quiet sob slipped free from your lips as the weight of everything crashed down. Then, steeling yourself, you turned back toward the exit, pushing open the gate and stepping into the cold night air.

Behind you, the darkness swallowed Josh and the Wendigo, leaving you alone. Alive, but forever marked by what you had left behind.

It had been a month since the night that shattered everything and somehow stitched it all back together again.

You sat on the edge of the park bench, a cup of lukewarm coffee cradled in your hands, the distant noise of traffic and laughter drifting in from the nearby streets. The world kept moving, as if it didn’t know what had happened on that mountain, what you had seen, what you had lost. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe it couldn’t. But you did. Every single second of it was etched into you like scars beneath the skin, invisible but permanent.

Your friends, Mike, Jessica, Sam, Ashley, Chris, Emily, Matt, they were all alive. Shaken, bruised, changed, but alive. That alone felt like a miracle. After everything, it could’ve gone so much worse. It should have.

In the weeks that followed, the group had become something closer than you’d ever expected. Weekly dinners, game nights, long texts sent at 3AM when sleep wouldn’t come. No one said it out loud, but you could all feel it: that need to hold on tight, to not drift apart again. That night had done more than just haunt you, it had tethered you all together with something stronger than fear. Something like survival. Something like love.

But even with the laughter, even in the light of day, Josh lingered in the back of your mind.

His name was never far from your lips in the aftermath. You’d told the police everything, about the mines, about what he’d done, and what he’d tried to undo. About the Wendigo. You left out no detail, hoping someone would understand, someone would look. And they did. At first. But when the terrain turned too dangerous, too unmapped, too strange, the search began to slow. Then stop. And in the end, the only answer they gave was a silent nod and a promise to "keep the file open."

You knew what that meant. You weren’t going to get him back.

Still, part of you couldn’t accept that. You dreamed about the way he looked at you in those final moments, like he’d finally found peace, even in the face of something monstrous. Sometimes you woke up certain he was still out there, alive somehow, hiding in the shadows. Other nights, the dreams were colder. The mine, the scream, the torch’s final flicker. You always woke up before the end.

You took a shaky breath and looked down into your coffee, watching the ripples settle. If there was one good thing to come out of that horror, it was this, these people. Your people. You had nearly lost them, and now you knew better than ever how fragile everything was.

You stood slowly, coffee in hand, the air sharp against your cheeks. The park was nearly empty now, and the soft crunch of leaves beneath your boots felt grounding. Familiar. With each step away from the bench, it was like you could finally breathe again, like you were learning how.

Then, a roar of tires shattered the calm.

A black sedan tore around the corner, engine screaming, the frame rocking slightly as it jerked to a stop just a few feet ahead of you. Your breath caught, heart already leaping into your throat. Instinctively, you took a step back, the coffee sloshing over the rim of the paper cup.

The engine cut off, and the driver’s door burst open.

“Sam?” you called out, confused.

She rounded the front of the car, sprinting toward you. Her face was bloodless, eyes wide with something that looked almost like panic. Or disbelief. She didn’t say anything at first, just stood there in front of you, chest heaving, trying to catch her breath.

You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong, but before you could speak, she reached out, clutching your arm.

“It’s Josh,” she said, voice hoarse and shaking. “They found him.”

[koshkamartell]

Kept Woman

summary: AU one shot. Your older boyfriend Joel knows what's best for you, even if you don't agree.

warnings: unspecified age gap, possessive!Joel, low key abusive!Joel, toxic behaviour, gaslighting, reader has poor self esteem, degradation, dubcon PIV, unprotected PIV, creampie, dirty talk, daddy kink, slut shaming, breeding kink, mild dissociation.

word count: 6,200

"You woke up with a fuckin' attitude today," Joel grumbles as he heaves himself into the driver's seat of his truck. He doesn't look your way as he slams the door shut and starts the ignition.

"You'd have an attitude too, if someone else kept you up half the night with their snoring," you snipe from the front passenger seat.

Joel's loud snoring has been a point of contention in your relationship for quite some time. He always snores, although it has never been as bad as it was last night. Most of the time you can subdue the snoring with a couple jabs of your elbow into his side, or a few light smacks on his shoulder, but last night nothing seemed to rouse him. The maddening snoring was unrelenting as it sawed through your eardrums, each inhale and exhale of Joel's breath bringing you closer to a fit of rage.

You ended up seeking refuge on the couch around midnight, angry at having to abandon your luxurious king bed for the far inferior comfortability of the living room sofa. As a result you are understandably irritable this morning.

You have noticed a pattern to Joel's noisy nocturnal breathing; it seems the nights of heavy, obnoxious snoring come after a long day at work, when he returns home extra tired and ready to collapse in bed. You know he's been putting in overtime at the latest project for his contracting company. You appreciate that he works hard. But if you have to deal with another round of cacophonous snorting then you will surely go crazy.

You see Joel scoff and rolls his eyes in your peripheral vision but choose to ignore it. He always thinks you're being dramatic or complaining about nothing. You flip the sun visor down to use the mirror before rifling through your handbag for your lipstick.

"For fuck sake," Joel growls suddenly, slamming the visor shut. He glares at you and jerks the gear stick into reverse. "How many goddamn times have I told you? I can't fuckin' see that side when I'm reversin' and you got that thing down."

"Maybe you need to get some glasses if you can't see," you quip nonchalantly while twisting off the lid of your lipstick from its tube. "Old man," you add half under your breath before applying your make up.

"Oh yeah, you're so funny," Joel snaps sarcastically. The engine revs and the tires squeal as he quickly reverses out of the driveway. He grips the top of the steering wheel with one of his large hands, the other resting tense on the gear stick. He usually lays that one on your thigh while he drives, for he's always eager to touch you, to reassure himself that what he owns is close by.

But today neither of you touch. There is no air of affection between you. The atmosphere in the truck is thick with tension and punctuated by sour, fractious silence. It lasts for five gruelling minutes before you decide that you can't take it any longer.

You reach over and push the button on the stereo and the radio comes crackling to life with a crooning, old fashioned country song. You make a small noise of disgust in the back of your throat and press another button to scan through the different stations. You are trying to search for something more palatable, something more upbeat to lift you out of this shitty mood.

"The fuck are you doin'?" Joel mutters, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him. "Quit messin' around with my radio. I like the station it was on."

"Come on, Joel. I don't want to listen to that crap." You huff. When you jump over to the next channel the speakers trumpet out a fast paced, beat driven track. Yes!

"Too bad. Ain't your truck, now is it, sweetheart?" Joel's thick fingers reach out and click the radio off without so much as a glance your way. You stare at him, half in surprise and half in rage. There is a self satisfied manner to his posture now, his shoulders a little more relaxed, his brow no longer pulled into a frown. There is even a hint of smug smirk on his mouth. He's cocky, the way he asserts his dominance over you, even through such small gestures. Sometimes you wonder if he does these things to antagonise you.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll get my own car so I can play my own music," you snap, crossing your arms and glaring out the passenger window.

"Oh yeah?" Joel chuckles and shakes his head. "And just how are you gonna do that, baby? With the measly pay you get from waitressin' at that hokey little diner?"

He grins to himself, like the conversation is an amusing joke. You hate it when he is so condescending. His atittude acts as a reminder that he's so much older than you, exceedingly more financially stable, and undeniably more wise and savvy than you could ever be.

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment. It isn't the first time Joel has ridiculed your job. He's often pestering you to quit the diner to get a cushy receptionist position at his company instead. He says it's more respectable for your resume, although you suspect it is more so Joel can keep a closer eye on you than anything else.

"I like my job," you retort quietly, staring at the passing scenery outside your window. You hear Joel hum an acknowledgement before he clears his throat.

"I know, honey. I just don't get why," he says, tone considerably softer now. He glances over to you and you can feel the weight of his gaze, you but you don't meet it. "You could be earnin' atleast double what you make if you came to work with me."

The truth is that you genuinely do enjoy your job. You like keeping busy and being a part of the close knit team that operate the place. You cherish the rapport you've built with the regular costumers and you thrive on the praise they give you. Leaving your position would be giving up your safe space, somewhere where you belong and feel valued. It would be forfeiting your only remaining slice of independence.

You don't share any of this with Joel.

"They need me," you say in a small voice. "That's what Lenny always says."

Lenny is your boss, a funny and kind older gentleman who acts like a surrogate uncle to you. He often jokes that he has been managing the diner longer than you've been alive. He has always been a source of support for you, as have the other waitresses and line cooks.

Joel snorts derisively. "They don't need you, honey. They just use ya. Lenny wouldn't think twice about replacin' you if he had to."

"That's not true," you mumble weakly. You know what Joel says is not true but there is still a tiny niggling doubt in your mind that perhaps Joel is right. He usually is, after all.

He puts his large palm over your knee where your skirt has ridden up and strokes the bare skin there. The touch of his thick, calloused hand feels possessive. "Trust me darlin', some other girl would be fillin' your shoes before you even step foot outta that shithole."

His tone isn't cruel; he sounds matter of fact and concerned, paternal in his conviction. You sigh softly and don't bother to argue back. You don't speak for the rest of the few minutes drive to your work. The tension in the truck lingers, a sense of unease that makes you feel on edge, but Joel seems totally unaffected by it. He hums, carefree and seemingly oblivious, one hand on the top of the wheel and the other still on your knee. Always so in control, always so confident.

You stare out the window with a vacant expression, a myriad of thoughts passing through your mind.

How much money have I saved now? Will Joel be angry if I work the double shift on Saturday? I need the money. Should I tell him about the invite to Paul's party now or later? My sister texted again but I just ignored it - Joel would say I keep inviting drama into my life if I text back, but I feel bad.

You don't realise how quickly the drive passes until the rundown Lenny's sign comes into view and bursts your train of thought like a bubble. As Joel pulls into the parking lot you realise just how eager you are to don your little apron and turn off all the thoughts and emotions you don't want to deal with. Joel parks the truck and you have to fight the urge to jump out and scurry straight through the diner door.

"I'll see ya tonight, baby," he murmers, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth, the scruff of his moustache tickling your lips. You flash him a little smile and slip out of the truck.

The diner was busier than usual today. The steady trickles of people meandering through to get a bite to eat or something to quench their thirst make it impossible for you to even get a decent lunch break. You and Teresa bustled around the tables serving endless cups of coffee and milkshakes alongside stacks of plates laden with burgers, fries, sandwiches and all day breakfast specials. The lunch time rush was so chaotic that you thought the line cook would have a heart attack.

You didn't mind being run off your feet - it made the noise in your head turn into low level static, a kind of vibration that silenced the anxiety and allowed you to simply exist. Working as a team, being surrounded by friends, helped you to breathe more clearly, and by the end of the day you felt a pleasant ache in your cheeks from smiling so much.

The flow of patrons only began to dwindle once the end of your shift rolled around. The sun was beginning to set, pretty pink and orange hues splashed over the western horizon, signalling the end of the day. You stand outside the diner around the side of the building and share a smoke with Tony, one of the linecooks. He's an older man around Joel's age, with a charming smile and eyes that seem to twinkle. He's always affable and chatty, a perfect gentleman.

"You goin' to Paul's party?" He asks as he takes an inhale of his cigarette. He leans against the brick wall and passes the rolled cigarette to you. You accept it and take a drag.

"I dunno," you reply with a shrug of your shoulder, exhaling a winding curl of smoke from your nose. "Not sure what I'm doing that night."

Tony's mouth quirks into a half smile and he nods, something playful and knowing in his expression. You raise an eyebrow at him and cock your head to the side curiously.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tony holds his hand out and you pass the cigarette back to him. "Nothing," he replies casually. "Just wondering if it's that or if it's because that boyfriend of yours won't let you."

You wrap an arm around your middle and scoff, but the noise comes out sounding more defensive than you would have liked. "He's got nothing to do with it," you mutter, kicking at the pavement with the toe of your shoe.

Tony nods sagely and pops the smoke inbetween his lips. "Uh-huh," he dismisses smoothly, "well anyway, me and Teresa are goin', if you wanna hitch a lift with us."

"Thanks. I'll let you know."

Less than a minute later you spy Joel's truck cruise down the road and turn into the parking lot, the engine rumbling loudly amidst the muffled sound of country music vibrating through the windows. The arrival of his vehicle acts as an unspoken cue to end your conversation with Tony. Tony seems to understand; he flicks the butt of the cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot before shooting you a smile.

"G'night," he murmers. He wipes his palms on his apron and steps around you to walk back into the diner. Joel pulls up a few parking spaces from where you stand, further toward the back of the building and away from the diner entrance. You stroll over to the truck and smile when he opens the driver side door. The twangy music reverberates from the speakers inside the truck and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

"Hey baby," Joel greets you with his smooth Texan drawl. He switches off the engine before unclicking his seat belt, then hauls himself out of the truck.

"Why are you getting out?" You ask with a frown. "I've clocked off, let's go home."

He smirks and snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close against his front. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Couldn't wait to have you in my arms, that's all," he murmurs. "Missed ya today."

You wrap your arms around his middle and lean your head against his chest. "Missed you too."

Joel tucks a stand of stray hair behind your ear and then strokes his thumb along your jawline. "Yeah?" He purrs. "You missed your daddy?"

You nod your head and nuzzle your nose into the soft, comforting material of his flannel. He chuckles softy and cups the side of your jaw in his palm. "How about we get goin' home and you can show me just how much you missed me, hmm?"

"Mmhmm," you whisper, letting your body relax into his embrace. You feel your eyes drifting closed. You are so tired and your feet ache. The thought of going home with Joel sounds perfect; he'll choose a movie and pick up some takeout and you two will snuggle up on the couch and retreat away from the world.

Joel slowly spins around so that your back presses against the side of his truck. You giggle softly and tilt your head to look up at him. He gazes down at you intently, a glint of hunger swirling in his brown eyes as he scans your face.

His large hand slides from your jaw back to the nape of your neck. "You're so pretty, baby," he cooes. His fingers thread through the strands of hair at the base of your skull, gently at first, before he closes his fist and pulls your hair taut in his grip. You wince at the sting of your scalp. "So pretty. And just for me, right?"

Joel suddenly captures your mouth in an impassioned kiss, pushing his tongue past your lips with a dominanting force that almost feels desperate, as if he wants to consume you. You feel overwhelmed by the intensity but you let it happen, allowing your mouth to be claimed by him. You can taste the coffee and mint on his breath, while the faint mix of his cologne, sweat and cigarette smoke fills your nostrils - it intoxicates your senses, making you slightly dizzy, and you sag back against the car.

Joel's other hand squeezes your hip possessively. You're pinned between him and the truck and it makes you feel small and vulnerable, more or less trapped by his solid frame. He slots his thigh inbetween your legs and you feel the buckle of his belt dig into your stomach.

You wait until you are struggling to breath before you finally press your palms against his broad chest and push, although you're far too weak to actually get him to stop. He eventually relents and breaks the kiss, though he keeps his face close to yours.

"Make it so fuckin' hard to keep my hands off you," he mutters, nuzzling his aquiline nose against yours. You let out a breathless giggle and fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

"Let's go home, it's been a long day," you offer. Joel presses a light kiss on the tip of your nose and grins, his warm breath beating over your cheeks.

"Not yet," he whispers, "can't stop myself, baby. You already got me so fuckin' hard." He grinds his erection against your crotch, his hardened cock straining the material of his jeans. "Feel that, honey? Feel how fuckin' crazy you make me?"

You feel a tug of panic within your tummy. He has that telltale tone in his voice; gravelly with lust, but with something dangerous simmering below the insistent ardor of his affection. It is how he sounds when he wants something.

And Joel always gets what he wants.

"Joel...," you murmer hesitantly, trying to keep the nervousness from cracking through your voice. "Not here, please not now. Let's go home first."

You're grateful that Joel has collected you from the back corner of the parking lot, just far enough to be partly secluded from traffic and other people walking around. But you are still less than sixty feet from the inside of the diner where your coworkers and boss are currently still working.  

"Just for a minute, baby, just need to feel you real quick." Joel reaches down and hitches up the hem of your skirt to dip his hand underneath. The caress of his calloused hand gliding up to the apex of your thighs causes a shiver to crawl up your spine. His touch always feels so good, so enticing, and when his fingers find the crotch of your panties a gasp escapes your lips.

"Joel," you whisper anxiously, clutching to the lapel of his jacket. He presses his fingers to your clit, groaning with pained lust when he feels the damp material of your panties.

"Fuck," he breathes. He fingertips begin to draw light circles over the bud, immediately eliciting a spark of pleasure to flood through your lower belly. "Just needed to feel you, sweetheart. Been thinkin' of you all day."

Joel leans down and kisses you once again, tongue slipping into your mouth and lapping at yours with fervid hunger. You feel your hips buck involuntarily, your body suddenly craving his touch, greedy for him to continue his minstrations.

He rubs your clothed clit with expert dexterity, the pressure steady but just light enough that your climax builds quite quickly. You hate how quickly he can unravel you, how effortlessly he seems to command your pleasure; but the blossoming ecstasy seems to rob you of your shame, making you forget just where you are.

All you can focus on is Joel.

Your heartbeat thrums in your chest and your breath comes in short, heavy exhalations through your nose. You feel your pussy flutter with electric pulses - you're close.

So fucking close.

Then it stops.

Joel withdraws his hand from your heat and loosens his other from your hair at the same time. He breaks away from the kiss and shuffles his boots backward a step, pulling out of your grasp.

What the fuck?

You lean forward in an embarrassing attempt to chase his lips, and whine in frustrated confusion.

"Joel what are you doing?" You pout, scowling at him.

He ignores you, glancing down as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans. You watch as he takes hold of his hard cock and pulls it out from his underwear, foreskin retracting to reveal the fat head already wet with precum.

Your eyes widen in shock and your head swivels from side to side, nervously scanning for any sign of someone walking by. "Joel!" You hiss. "Are you insane?!

"Sssh," Joel croons, not bothering to look up at you. "Can't help it, baby, you're driving me crazy." He gives a lazy pump of his cock and steps between your legs again, his heavy boots nudging your feet apart to widen your stance. "Come on honey, be good for me."

"No, Joel, not here, please," you protest hurriedly, but he isn't listening to you. His massive hand tugs your skirt upwards, exposing your legs to the cool evening air and the warm metal of the truck behind you. Joel forcefully slots his body inbetween your thighs and impatiently yanks your underwear to the side, your slick arousal smearing over your lips. Your panic increases when you feel the heat of his cock press against the opening of your pussy.

He won't actually fuck you here, will he?

"Joel!" You plead, smacking your hands against his chest helplessly. You've got to get him to stop, to wake him out of this horny stupor. Someone could pass by any second and see what's happening. You'll be humiliated if anyone finds you in such a compromising position, but you will surely die from mortification if someone from work spies you. "Please."

A low growl of annoyance rumbles from Joel's chest and his hand comes to squeeze your hip, not tight enough to hurt you but firm enough to make you stop moving. He glares at you now, his pupils blown wide with predatory desire, his jaw ticking. You whimper and let your hands fall to your sides.

"I ain't askin'," Joel warns in a husky whisper. "Open up, little girl."

There's no use fighting it.

You basically agreed to it anyway, letting him touch you like that just a moment ago.

You stay silent as you acquiesce, spreading your legs further and hitching one up to sit over his hip. "That's it," he purrs lowly, "let me in."

The stretch of the crown of his cock breaching your hole makes you grimace in discomfort. He is big - the biggest you've ever had - and it always hurts when he first ruts into you. You're wet but no where near enough to facilitate a smooth entry, especially because he hasn't worked you open on his fingers beforehand either.

He groans with satisfaction when he slides into your pussy in short stuttering bursts, hand on your hip gripping you tight in place. You scrunch your eyes shut and bite down on your bottom lip to try repress the pained moans threatening to spill out from you.

"You're tight, honey," Joel murmers. "You gotta relax." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek in his large palm tenderly. "Breathe through it, come on."

He tilts his head down to press a light kiss to your hairline and the scratch of his scruffy beard prickles your skin. He is only halfway inside of you and the sting of intrusion seems to only intensify; maybe your body is rejecting Joel, so conscious of your shame and unwillingness that your insides are refusing to adjust.

You remember the first time you and Joel had fooled around, how intimidated you were when you had discovered just how well endowed he was. *"Don't worry, baby, I'll make it fit," he had said with a chuckle.

And that's what he was going to do now - make it fit, whether or not you were ready for it.

You don't even get the chance to regulate your breathing before Joel drives his hips forward and feeds his length all the way inside you. Your mouth falls open and a choked whine claws its way up your throat, and on reflex your hands ball the flannel of his shirt into your fists.

You're so unbelievably full.

"Good girl," Joel praises you in a velvety mumble that makes your clit unexpectedly throb. "Knew you could take it."

You can't help but preen on the inside at the tiny scrap of approval. You feel your pussy clench and unclench around him. You whimper and flutter your eyelids open, your dizzying vision settling on the tanned skin of Joel's strong neck, the veins by his jugular. You fight the urge to latch onto the spot and sink your teeth into him, to do something to bite back at him.

His hips start to saw back and forth with steady momentum, slowly punching his fat girth in and out of you. The burning sensation eventually dulls but the feeling of your insides parting continues to bombard you, bordering on unbearable, and it makes you mewl pathetically.

"Never get sick of splittin' this pussy open. Love seein' you cry on my cock." Joel plants a sloppy kiss on the side of your temple, seeming to relish the taste of the salty sweat of your skin.

Joel's appetite for sex has always been pretty voracious; it isn't uncommon for him to sneak up on you in the kitchen and bend you over the counter to fuck you while you're trying to cook, or for you to wake up in the mornings with his tongue lapping at your cunt. It still surprises you that a man his age has such insatiable desire, but you really can't complain, not when he's able to coax orgasm after orgasm from your body so effortlessly.

But right now you're desperately wishing he would atleast try to control himself, that he wouldn't let his animalistic compulsion cloud his sense of rationality and make him so reckless. Joel is usually a conservative kind of man, no nonsense and a tad grumpy in temperament, who would probably sneer in disgust at the idea of a man fucking his woman outside the privacy of their home. Those who know him would never in their wildest dreams guess that Joel would do such a thing - such debauchery is far more characteristic of his younger brother, Tommy.

But with you it seems Joel loses all sense of conventionalism.

You wouldn't have ever imagined him doing this, either, considering how possessive and protective he is. But you've learnt that Joel seems to foresake his self righteous attitude whenever it suits him, and more often than not when it benefits him.

Maybe you should've tried harder to persuade him to stop, to take you home instead.

"You daddy's little cock slut?" Joel rumbles in your ear. His hand leaves its bruising hold on your hip to slide over your mound. You feel the rough pad of his thumb press on your clit and your legs twitch at the contact.

He starts to swipe deft circles over the bud and soon a buzzing wave of bliss reignites once more throughout your belly. You can't help but moan, the uncomfortable sensation of being forced open finally dissipating enough to allow you to feel a degree of pleasure.

He maintains the momentum of his hips rolling against yours as he rubs your clit; soon your body is overtaken with the barrage of Joel's movements and the ecstasy he imposes upon you, and you find yourself going slack against the truck panel. The shame and anxiety you felt begins to fade as you surrender to Joel.

Your legs tremble and he senses your strength draining, always so attuned to your body and the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. He gives your cheek a light slap.

"Stay with me, baby," Joel commands."Hold on to me, I got you."

You obey, your hands feebly grabbing at the meat on his flanks to help keep you steady. He nods down at you, his fat cock still plunging in and out of your pussy, all while he massages your clit. He plays your body so expertly, like an instrument, like he knows you inside and out, knows that he's the only man who can take you apart so deliciously. Your mind starts to feel like it's floating the closer your orgasm creeps up.

"That's it, honey. You love this cock so fuckin' much, don't you? Joel grits, nuzzling his nose against your forehead. His accent is like honey to your ears, thick and dripping with lust as he whispers filth. "Greedy little pussy can't ever say no to gettin' fucked, can she?"

You whine brokenly in response, breaths coming out in short pants. You're so close, the residual pressure of your previously unfulfilled orgasm heightening every punch of Joel's cock, every circle of his digit on your clit. He continues to speak, praising you with a silky string of adoration, good girl and the best pussy I ever had dripping from his mouth.

Your orgasm reaches its peak and a swell of intense bliss blossoms from the depths of your loins to surge all throughout your body. Your pussy contracts and spasms, a trickle of juice squirting down Joel's shaft and over his balls. You have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from crying out, causing a drop of blood to bloom out over your tongue. Your fingernails are close to tearing Joel's shirt, surely leaving indents on his skin even through the material.

"Yeah, that's it baby, cum on this cock," Joel rumbles with satisfaction.

He fucks you through your orgasm to prolong your high, but you quickly reach the point of overstimulation; you plead for him to stop, your voice hoarse and tired, devoid of strength. He continues for a few seconds longer, just to tease you and make you squirm on his dick, but then he stops.

"Good girl, so good for me," he whispers, planting another wet open kiss against your temple, his mouth hot and slobbering.

You're exhausted now and just want to sleep, the post orgasm delirium settling over your mind and body like a thick cloud.

But Joel isn't finished with you yet.

He sets both his massive hands on your hips and begins to fuck into you with renewed vigor. It rips you from the alluring pull of drowsiness and you squeal at the unexpected brutish pace he sets, the force and tempo verging on bestial, like he's purposely punishing you. The edge of your underwear grinds uncomfortably against your labia and chafes the sensitive skin there.

Joel uses his grip to pull you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, a toy whose sole purpose is to be used for his pleasure. The euphoria from your orgasm has completely disappeared now, replaced with sharp stabs of pain from where the head of his cock kisses your cervix. You grit your teeth and claw at his sides, desperately wishing it was over.

He's so deep inside you that you swear he's stabbing into your stomach. Each stroke squeezes an involuntary guttural moan from the bottom of your lungs.

"Yeah, that's right," Joel growls. "Let everybody hear you whinin' like a bitch on my cock."

You are suddenly flooded with the mortifying remembrance of your surroundings. You aren't in your cosy bed in the house you share with Joel - you're still in the public parking lot by your work place, being screwed by your much older boyfriend. Burning shame and humiliation pour over you like liquid flames, saturating and scorching every inch of your skin.

You feel dirty. Cheap.

Like he's reading your mind, Joel leans down to whisper in your ear with chilling comtemptuousness. "Lettin' me rail you in a fuckin' parking lot, like some kinda whore."

You're caught off guard by the venom of his words; a tiny gasp escapes your mouth and your fingers instinctively loosen their grasp on his back. He doesn't seem fazed by the change in your body language, too engrossed in chasing his own high to perceive how deflated you've abruptly become.

Or maybe he just doesn't care.

"Yeah. Gotta be a real shameless slut to get fucked like this. Surprised you ain't got a load stuffed in you already."

You stare at the tanned expanse of his neck once more, your eyes unblinking like you're in a trance. The prickling of tears sting at the back of your eyeballs. You'd never cheat on Joel, would never have sex with someone else. Why is he saying these things?

Your stomach feels sick. You hadn't wanted to do this in the first place - it was Joel who seduced you to. But still, he's right, isn't he? You are letting him fuck you against his truck and you aren't even telling him to stop.

Like it's just part of your job.

"'S what you are," Joel croons harshly, "aint nothin' but a dirty whore cummin' on her daddy's cock. A real brainless bitch only good for spreadin' her legs."

Joel has always been the more dominant partner during sex with you. It comes so naturally to him, slipping into an authoritative role in the bedroom as easily as he does in day to day life as a manager of his own construction company. He does not relinquish control in any area of his life.

But this feels different. There is something prowling right below the surface of this whole situation that makes you feel uneasy; it is in the barbed edge to his speech, the uncaring movements of his hips, the animalistic heaving of his breaths. A feeling that he wants to hurt you.

"Bet you'd let me fuck your ass right now too." Joel pants in your ear, words slurring slightly from the fervid of his own gratification, like he's drunk. "Bet you'd fuckin' love that, lettin' me bust a nut in your little asshole."

You feel your heart crack a little at the cruelty of his tongue, how easily they seem to slither from his mouth like a serpent. You don't speak back.

"I'm gonna keep all your holes filled," he mutters. "Make sure you're drippin' all the time. That what you want, baby?"

Through the haze of your pain you can detect the telltale throb of his cock, the way his hips move in a more frenzied, sloppy rhythm. You know his body just as well as he knows yours; he's about to cum, and when you feel the momentary swelling of his girth you brace yourself for his climax. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips painfully.

"Take it, bitch, take it all."

Joel slams his cock deep inside your pussy one last time before his cum erupts over your walls and cervix, filling you to the brink with his milky spend. He moans and grunts in your ear, his chest heaving against your frame, crushing you further into the panel of the truck, crumpling your far more delicate and smaller body.

He pulls out of you swiftly and you are immediately hit by the aching emptiness left inside you. You scramble to adjust your panties and to pull your skirt down, and your balance teeters dangerously. Joel is quick to catch you from falling to the ground, wrapping his hands around your upper arms to keep you upright.

"Whoa, honey, easy." He soothes, soulful coffee brown eyes darting all over your face with concern. His expression is so soft, a complete juxtaposition to the predatory scowl he wore just minutes ago, like he's transformed into a totally different man. "You okay?"

You nod your head, eyes fluttering open and shut as your brain fights against the foggy film of dissociation permeating your thought process. Are you okay? You aren't really sure.

"Mhm," you murmer anyway, almost inaudibly.

"Oh, my perfect girl," he whispers softly, so reverent and loving. "I love you so much." He tilts your chin up with his thumb and plants a tender kiss on your lips; you can't help but melt into it, like a kitten desperate for warmth and affection. The mist surrounding your senses abates quickly, leaving you staring up at Joel with mirrored adoration in your eyes. He strokes your hair and gives you a small smile, the dimple in his side visible for a second.

"I love you too." You preen and reach up to stroke at the patchy beard along his jaw, marvelling at just how handsome he looks. You want to savour this moment, wishing to memorise just how beautiful the intimacy between you and Joel feels right now.

He loves you. You love him. That's all you need. It's all you want.

"Come on honey, let's go home and get somethin' to eat," he tells you, stepping away and making quick work of buckling his belt back up.

You nod in agreement, getting ready to haul yourself up into the truck when your mind suddenly snaps alert to the lack of weight on your shoulder. You whine in annoyance as you realise the mistake you made. "Shit! I forgot my purse inside. Ugh."

"Well go on and get it," Joel drawls, laidback and unbothered. "I'll wait for ya." He gives your ass an encouraging pat. "Hurry along."

You sigh dramatically and turn around to go back inside. He folds his arms and leans back against the truck, eyeing the sway of your ass while he tries to conceal the conceited triumph radiating through his chest. Yeah, he knows what he pulled was an asshole move, but it had to be done. You've been getting a little too mouthy for his liking, a little too friendly with your coworkers. And once he knocks you up you won't have any more excuses to keep working at this shitty diner. You will be at home, barefoot and pregnant, with no where else to go and no one else to rely on. You'll be marked for life. A kept woman.

He smiles a little to himself, content with the knowledge that as you make the walk back to the diner the slow gush of his semen will be creeping into the gusset of your panties.

credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider

[bluewxrld07]

Lifeline (Jack Hughes)

Summary: Jack has Y/N take his car to his game. What happens when she gets caught up in a serious accident?

Warning(s): Flangst, serious car accident, serious injuries, anxiety attacks, detailed injury description

"Jack where are my shoes?" Y/N calls out, touching up her makeup in the bathroom before shutting off the light.

"I think I put them in the hallway closet!" he says back from his bedroom. She searches through the pile of shoes, finally finding the pair she was looking for and letting out a satisfied sigh.

Jack pops out of the bedroom while buttoning his jacket, adjusting the beanie on his head before straightening out his suit. He walked towards her, placing his hands on her hips and giving her a kiss on the cheek as he skims past her to slip his own shoes on.

"You still fine to take my car?" he asks, and she nods with a hum

"Do I just show them the pass when I get to the gate?"

"Yeah they know you're coming, I made sure to keep them aware you'd be in my car." he adds, making her nod as she walks back to his bedroom to go put her jewelry on.

She stands in front of the mirror while putting her earrings in.

"Okay," Jack announces, quickly walking into his room and coming to her. He passes her his keys before wrapping her in a hug from behind. "I'm out of here, the guys are downstairs. I'll see you later, yeah?" he asks as he is giving her multiple kisses on her temple, Y/N soon turning her head to capture a couple kisses on the lips.

She smiles up at him. "Aye aye captain." she chuckles, earning a playful eyeroll and a tongue sticking out at her before he leaves the room.

It's another fifteen minutes or so before Y/N is grabbing her purse and Jack's keys, kissing her cat goodbye for the evening and locking the door behind her.

Once she is in the parking garage she unlocks Jack's car, setting his keys back into her purse while opening the driver's side door.

She pushes the button to start it up, letting the car warm up to her liking while she sets her stuff into the passenger seat. As her music soon booms through the speakers she begins to leave the garage as she hums along to the tunes.

The ride was overall quiet and peaceful in her opinion, snow coming down pretty quickly the more downtown she got into New Jersey.

By the time she'd be arriving at the stadium, the boys would be just getting onto the ice for warmups which as perfect timing for her to see Jack as he went back to the locker rooms post warmups.

She made it to the final stoplight just before the arena was in her view, her chest feeling a little less heavy as she always got nervous driving Jack's car.

"It's just a car, baby. I can always buy another one. I can't buy another you." He'd always tell her, which always resulted in her saying she knows how much this car meant to Jack. It was like his baby.

Her light finally turned green, Y/N beginning to turn onto the next road but lets out a gasp as she hears a car horn, and sees headlights getting closer towards the driver's side of Jack's car.

Before she can try to miss the impact, the car hits her side fast and hard. She could feel the car go flying across the intersection and toppling over.

She felt the impact as it hit her, only just barely before her body takes over and everything goes dark.

Meanwhile, Jack and the crew are making their ways back to the locker rooms after finishing warmups all hyped up for the night ahead.

As they're all gettin revved up for the big talk with coach, they all watch him walk into the room with a very serious face. More straight than it usually is.

"The game is being delayed by an hour," he announces, making everyone all hum out responses filled with confusion. Coach raises his arms to silence the team. "There was an accident just by the stoplight. As far as I know, a diesel truck rammed into the driver's side of a bit of a smaller car. The other car has a lot of damage and was hit so hard it rolled and toppled over across the intersection."

All the guys all hummed out in sorrow and understanding, still all buzzing about how long they'd have to actually wait to go out.

Some of the guys threw on their slides before heading out towards the parking garage to see if they could see it from where they were.

Jack and Luke were amongst the few, Luke being further ahead with some of the guys.

The sirens and commotion got louder the closer they got to the edge of the garage, only being to see bits and pieces of it as it looked like it happened just before the turn into the parking garage.

As Jack gets up to be with some of his buddies, a few of the security guars had jogged over to Luke and started saying a few things.

Nico and Dawson were also next to Luke, their faces dropping as they looked at Luke whose face turned white before turning towards Jack then back at the site while running a hand over his mouth waling with the security guards over to the site.

Jack got up closer to the bunch, his eyes squinting and looking over to the crash site.

Nico and Dawson immediately rush up to him before pulling him back. Jack frowns. "What? Why can't I see, what's going on?" he says as he lightly pushes them off of him.

"Jack it's best if you don't go up there." Nico says in a warning tone.

"Why, what's the big deal? Get off!" Jack says as they keep their grips on him.

"Jack don't," Dawson says. Jack glares at them both, confusion taking over his features.

"What the fuck is up with you two?" Jack asks. "What is happening, why did Luke go with them?" he bombards, just before his movements of pushing them off freezes.

His heart falls to his ass as his stomach begins to feel nauseous.

"Don't tell me it's Y/N." he says with a knowing look, and their faces said it all.

Jack immediately fights off their grips harder than he was trying before, running up the street towards the caution tape.

Luke is making his way back quickly, immediately increasing his speed when he sees Jack coming and coming fast. "Jack, no." Luke says with a warning look on his face and pushing him away from the scene.

"Luke you don't want to fucking mess with me right now-"

"You don't want to see this, you need to stay back."

"If you don't get your fucking hands off me, Luke I swear we're going to have bigger issues." he snaps. Jack pushes back at his brother, looking over shoulder and pushing Luke to the side.

He scurries up to the caution tape, his chest becoming heavy as he sees the aftermath. His eyes widening.

There was scrap metal and pieces of the car all over the intersection, skid marks from what he could suspect were his car tires. The giant truck had a few dents and parts missing on the front of it. His eyes followed the skid marks towards where Jack's car was now laying. He felt like it was all in slow motion.

His car was totaled. It was toppled over on its passenger side, the entire driver's side of the car completely demolished.

Y/N was in that car. She felt that impact.

He ran towards the car screaming her name, policemen pushing him back. "No! That's my car, my girlfriend was in that fucking car let me through! Where is she? Where's Y/N? That was my girl in that car dammit! Where is she??" he panics, fighting his way past the officers and running towards the car.

He put a hand over his mouth as he saw the front door was off its hinges, looking as if it had been sawed off. The seat was torn up and didn't look like a seat anymore.

He swear his heart had stopped beating the moment he spotted blood. He saw her purse lying on the broken window of the passenger side.

"Sir you need to step back. This is a crime scene."

He whips his head around with his hands in his hair, tears falling freely from his eyes.

"What happened to her? Where's Y/N? At least fucking tell me my girl is alive!" he screams out, his voice cracking at the end of it.

As the officer was about to speak, someone else's voice came out first. "You said it was your girlfriend in the car?" A firemen behind him announces as he walks up to Jack.

Jack nods eagerly. "Where is she? I need her, I need to see her." he begs.

The firemen purses his lips. "She was just brought away in an ambulance," he starts, watching Jack's face contort into all sorts of emotions. "She was unconscious when we got to her. Her entire left side of her body had been stuck and crammed into the driver's side door. We had to saw the door open to try and get to her." he explains.

Jack swears he could've passed out right then and there.

"Her left leg had been caught in the door the most, so we had to break her leg to get her unstuck. She was in critical condition when we got her out. She was losing a lot of blood." he finishes, Jack breaking out into sobs.

Jack feels his chest getting tight, breathing becoming rapid. Luke wasn't too far behind him, immediately taking his brother into his arms to help him through the panic attack that was going to set in.

"I need to get to her, I need to see her. I need-"

"I know Jack. Let's go, we've gotta go now."

"I never said I loved her before leaving the apartment tonight," Jack gasps out, grabbing at his chest as he tries to slow his breathing.

"You'll get to tell her Jack. Don't think that way." Luke assures, walking his brother back towards the parking garage and the arena.

Luke gives Nico a knowing look, the captain nodding and running inside.

Jack felt everything inside him going numb. All he wanted was Y/N. He wanted her and only her.

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

Jack's knee never stopped bouncing.

His legs were spread, elbows on his knees as his head was looking down at his lap.

The doctor has yet to come back with any updates from yet a second surgery she was undergoing. Jack was going insane. He couldn't believe he forgot to tell her he loved her before leaving. Especially the fact he let her drive on her own when he knew she hated driving in the snow.

He felt like it was his fault.

"Jack," Luke's voice says softly, making the brown-haired boy's head snap up fast. He sees the surgeon walking their way, causing Jack to stand and meet him halfway.

"How is she? Is she okay?"

The surgeon takes off his cap and holds it in his hands while pursing his lips. "She lost a lot of blood on her way here. Please keep that in mind with the next things I'm about to tell you," he warns Jack, who nods. "She did flatline twice-"

Jack's lung felt like they were deprived of all air entirely.

"We managed to revive her both times, she was doing well after that. We had to full reset her entire left leg and femur. Her hip bone was completely dislodged from its socket," he explains. "She does have a concussion, and a broken elbow which we did put a screw in there to help piece it back together. But she's a strong woman. She pulled through and is in the recovery wing. She will be wheeled into her room shortly, which I can give you the number to so you can wait for her."

Jack nods eagerly, shaking hands with the surgeon after they finished talking. Jack turns to Luke, bitting his lip to keep it from quivering.

Luke pulled his brother in for a hug, holding him tight as he feels Jack shake quietly in his arms.

Once Jack has calmed down a bit they began to walk towards her room to go sit there until she is wheeled in. Jack was stuck wearing his suit to the hospital, his few top buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows.

The waiting game for Jack was what was the most agonizing. He sat in the spot that would be next to her bed, Luke looking over at Jack every so often in case he broke out into an attack again.

Before they know it the door is slowly being pulled open, nurses heard chattering lightly as Jack stands and watches as they wheel her bed in. His heart broke, but he knew in that moment he needed to be stronger for her.

She had entire cast taking up her whole leg and was partly taking over her hip, as well as a cast over her left elbow. She had a small neck strainer, and some butterfly bandages across her face.

Her eyes were squinting as if she had just woken up not too long ago, her lip busted as well. She tried looking around, only to be met with pain and limited movement in her neck.

Everything ached numbly to her, due to all the medications they had her on. She felt like she was going to throw up if anything.

The nurses began hooking her up to the machines behind her, making sure her IVs were in tact, making sure she was okay and could feel the pressure they were adding into the palm of her hand.

Her eyes opened a bit more and finally caught Jack's eye, making her eyes water and her lip start quivering. Jack stood up immediately as he walked over to her.

He wanted to take her hand so badly in that moment, but couldn't as the nurses were using it to connect her IVs.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her throat feeling dry and raw. "I'm so sorry Jack. I'm sorry." she began to cry making him bite his lip and shake his head.

"I'm going to go get her some water and ice." Luke says, wanting to give them their alone time as he knew Jack needed that.

Once the nurses were done with her IVs, Jack took her good hand into his and kissed it a million times. He squeezed it tight as he shook his head.

"I'm so glad you're alive. I'm so glad you're okay." he mutters out with a quivering shake in his voice.

"Jack I'm so sorry. I can't believe I ruined your car."

Jack just shook his head and closed his eyes, kissing her hand and keeping it up by his mouth as he stared at her. His eyes glosses over in tears threatening to fall.

"I'm here. I came as soon as I figured it out. I'm so sorry I shouldn't have let you drive in that weather." Jack says.

"Jack your car, I'm sorry. I really-"

"If you bring that fucking car up again I swear I'm going to get pissed off." he interrupts her. She lets her lip quiver.

"But-"

"No. That car is a piece of metal, something easily replaceable," he snaps. "You are not. I don't care about a damn car. I care about the girl I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with being alive. Not a fucking car, Y/N." he says in a darker tone.

"I just I can't believe that happened. It all happened so fast." she whimpers, Jack sniffling.

"The driver was arrested. He's going away for a while, I can promise you that I will make sure of it." Jack assures, Y/N trying her best to squeeze Jack's hand with what little strength she had.

"Jack what about your game?"

He scoffs and looks at her with a knowing look. "You're funny, pretty."

She furrows her brows. "But it's your biggest rival."

"And? I play them every year, I will see them next season. The love of my life flatlined twice and can't walk. I'm more concerned about her than a game." he says, Y/N just letting out a hum.

"I love you so much," Jack says, kissing her hand again. "I love you. I love you more than anything imaginable."

"I love you too Jack. I'm going to be okay.

"I didn't tell you I love you before I left the apartment. I can't believe I didn't say it."

"Jack stop. Don't blame yourself. This wasn't your fault. I know you do, so don't do that." she assures him, and he just nods.

"I just don't know what I would've done if you were gone," he says. "You're my lifeline. You're who I breathe for, who I live everyday for. I can't imagine you not being here. It killed me when I found out. Nothing else mattered."

Y/N wished she could hug him in that moment. She wished she could hold him tight and tell him everything she knew he needed to hear.

"Jack," she starts. "I'm here. I'm alive. I'm breathing and you can feel my pulse beating. I'm not going to leave you ever." she says, watching his eyes blink away more tears.

"If I did croak, I would've come back to haunt you anyways. So you're stuck with me.

Jack gives her a look. "Very funny."

"I thought so." she says with a weak and amused smile. Jack smiles small at her, grateful to see her gorgeous smile again.

She was his everything. His Lifeline.

[lovscb97]

railway (b.cc.) ༉‧₊˚.

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TRACK 001: part of the step out series

synopsis: you didn’t mean to get tied up with your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, but sometimes all you can do is hold on tight for the rough ride ahead of you, even if it means going against all the pre-written rules of friendship.

tags: best friend's ex!bangchan x fem!reader, angst, forbidden romance, mutually toxic relationship, morally grey characters, chan and reader are both kind of awful, mention of other idols (rest of stray kids, stayc, enhypen, etc), oc as chan's ex-girlfriend (aeri), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, use of nicknames (baby, darling, etc), very brief pussy slapping, possessiveness, mild dacryphilia, car sex, fingering, sir kink, squirting, jealousy, slight exhibitionism, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation (bitch, slut, etc), dirty talk, very brief mention of strength kink, mirror sex, breeding kink, creampie, brief choking, slight overstimulation, etc

theme board: www.pin.1003 / song link: prod:b.cc

wc: 7.85k

add. notes: welcome 2 the first course >:] i've offered my insights n analysis on railway alr but delving into the meaning of the song n creating a whole fic based off of it was very intriguing for me esp cus i don't usually write based off of music i listen to. i knew i wanted smth wrong to put out but i don't like infidelity n the usual story on toxic situations is tough to pull of so i decided to go down the more 'scandalous' route of sorts n make chan ur best friend's ex instead :3 there's a pinterest board i made for all these fics which for this one u can find linked above to grasp the aesthetics of it n i'd recommend reading this while listening to railway ofc. as always plz make sure u watch out for the tags n dni if ur a minor. also sidenote but aeri (the oc) is not meant to be seen as giselle from aespa but rather i just used that name bcs it's pretty lol just thought i'd lyk that. either way i hope u all enjoy! 

. . .

19:23 PM from: dni!!! Wyd? 

you swallow thickly at the sight of the text which lights up your screen, eyes zeroed in on the simple three letters which still hold thousands of words worth of meaning in themselves when combined. if it weren’t for the rubber case at the back, you reckon you would’ve dropped your phone with how instantly sweaty your palms become upon having received the message. the way you’re staring at your app, maybe even enough to bore holes into the words displayed back at you, doesn't go unnoticed either, and you barely manage to pocket the device as quick as you'd pulled it out just in time as your best friend approaches you. 

“everything okay? you look kinda pale.” aeri frowns once she’s in front of you, voice laced with concern so sweet that it almost makes bile rise up your throat as you attempt to lean back against jake’s kitchen counter to stabilise yourself. she doesn’t seem to buy the eventual shaky nodding of your head that you offer after realising she’d just asked you something that required an answer, but even if she wants to probe you further, she doesn’t, deciding to immerse you in conversation about something your other friends had told her; another one of her gossip sessions with yoon and jungwon, you presume.

her storytelling fades into background noise at some point, for you can’t ignore the heavy weight of the object tucked away in the back of your skirt pocket, still incessantly burning and buzzing with notifications you know you shouldn’t pay half a mind to. you’re well aware that they’re all most likely from the same person; the one individual you shouldn’t and have no right to indulge and mix with to this day; whose bedsheets you’ve found yourself tangled up in late at night alongside dirty noises slipping past both your lips; the very man who remains as sin personified in the storyline of your current life, and honestly might stay that way for as long as you live.

or in other words, aeri’s ex-boyfriend, chan.

your best friend met chan in her final year of university, bumping into him on chance encounter outside her lecture hall and exchanging textbooks by accident. chan had been all smiles when she’d invited him to lunch as an apology for the mix up, often tagging along with her after that until soon enough, they grew close enough and began seeing each other romantically. he seemed to treat her well for the most part, and you were happy for aeri that she’d found a good man worth her time and effort in the world. she’d drag you with her on their outings one too many times, and you’d gotten to know him from those instances, finding him to be a decent match for her.

unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and the spark between them started dwindling. you’re not sure what exactly happened, only able to recall bits and pieces from what aeri had told you mid-sob on your calls about her previous lover slowly becoming distant nearing the final stages of their relationship, so you’ve always just thought it was a mutual decision to cut ties for the betterment of each other. according to her vividly detailed breakdowns though, chan had been the one to suggest calling it off first, and everything came to a screeching halt three years down the line with much screaming and tears from her side. to an extent, their split did shake up things a little between all your mutual friends, but it also didn’t fully stop everybody from engaging with each other. all this brings you to your current situation— waiting in jake’s apartment for the rest of your friends to arrive for a random party he’d decided to plan on a whim.

“yo, guys!” speak of the devil, you think, tugging yourself out of your thoughts as you turn your body to let jake’s figure come into view. he beams at you like a big puppy, his hair flopping in a way that loosely resembles dog ears, and you remember after a split second that that’s just how your friend is referred to as in your group; the resident golden retriever. he parades up to you and aeri as one too, his vibrant smile lighting up the atmosphere in a way that you can’t stop relief from flooding your system at his presence.

“how are my favourite girls doing this fine evening?” he smirks, his usual flirting the same as always, causing aeri to roll her eyes as you chuckle. “har har up yours, sim.” she sticks her tongue out, prompting jake to do the same as he ruffles her hair, to which she shrieks. “oh, by the way,” jake perks up as if he’s just thought of something, completely ignoring your best friend smacking him on the arm lightly over his actions. “y/n, would you be so kind as to get the pack of beer from my car?” he pleads, doe eyes twinkling under the light of the room. 

you’re about to groan in protest, not wanting to go back out in the cold and freeze your ass off for a measly few cans of alcohol, but the front door swinging open accompanied by the all too familiar voice you’ve grown acquainted to fills the air, making your stomach drop— chan. chan is here. suddenly, you’re not too opposed to getting far away, and you quickly nod your head rapidly in agreement, not bothering to wait for the way jake lights up at you accepting his proposal before snatching the keys from his hold and darting towards the lift. 

chan’s jaw tightens at this. he barely manages to catch a glimpse of you from how you rush out past him, not even able to take in your outfit or face in the dashing haze you leave in. he points his thumb to where you had exited, bluffing something about helping you when jake responds how you’d gone out to grab the load of drinks he’d been too lazy to heave upstairs himself. nobody makes any work to question him when he turns on his heel to catch the elevator himself, thinking nothing of his usual gentleman-like behaviour.

nobody except for a pair of eyes lingering on his disappearing frame that neither one of the visitors in the house manages to grasp onto.

meanwhile, you quickly find yourself in the outdoor parking lot of jake’s building, hugging your shivering body tightly in an effort to warm yourself up against the chilling wind that blows past the trees. the sky has basically turned dark by now, but the streetlamps hanging overhead on the sides of the pavement serve as enough illumination to carry out your task. your breath comes out in heavy smoke to the point you can see it, and you try your best to spot your friend’s car as soon as possible, cheering internally when you manage to do so. after having jogged on over to it, you enter the key into the trunk lock with trembling fingers, twisting it until that same latch you’ve grown used to feeling with your own vehicle opens and makes way for you to push up the boot lid. 

you’re about to hook underneath to manoeuvre it open, that is, until a sudden cold hand tugs on the bare skin of your arm, making you jump out of your own flesh. you open your mouth to yell out loud, ready to alert your friends a few floors upstairs that someone is trying to kidnap you potentially when that same hand clamps over it. only when your vision stabilises in your dimly lit surroundings do you recognise chan in front of you, and you feel your shoulders physically drop as you put down your defences, glaring at him when he removes himself.

“why the hell would you sneak up on me like that? i—“

“are you avoiding me?”

his question comes out gruff and annoyed, causing you to blink at the way he’s glowering at you in suspicion. his arms are crossed against his chest, hiding the black button-up you’ve seen him wearing and committed to memory one too many times from how it clings perfectly onto his chiselled shoulders and biceps. it makes you gulp, but you attempt to hide your affected reaction anyways, delivering a scoff in his direction which only makes chan grit his teeth at your attitude. “so what if i am? you know damn well either way without needing me to spell it out for you.” you bite back, moving to turn around when he catches you by the elbow, leaving you to scowl at him.

“what’s gotten into you? just a few days ago, we were fine, yet now you’re ignoring my texts?” he narrows his eyes, holding you in place so you can’t budge away from him. you let out a faint tch at his words, more so at your own susceptibility to succumb to his advances, but chan tongues the side of his cheek after assuming you’re just being blatantly disrespectful towards him. his voice drops to a lower, seductive tone as he speaks up again. “need me to remind you again? you came over last saturday and humped my thigh before squirting on my tong— hmph!“ 

“god, yes, i fucking remember, okay?” you exclaim in a whisper after having slapped a hand over his mouth this time, eyes darting around frantically to make sure no one heard that. “could you be any more louder? jesus christ.” chan peels you off of him shortly afterwards, his expression souring at the way you address him. something about the anger in his features makes your own rise, and you feel any or all remorse you'd experienced prior to seeing him in person today vanish, replaced with a bubbling hatred of sorts.

you and chan began your weird affiliation with one another around two months ago, exactly a few days after he and your best friend broke up. to this day, you don’t know why he made a move on you, much less why you yourself reciprocated it. sure, you’d always found him objectively attractive when he and aeri were together, and while he may be your exact match of an ideal type to a tee, you would never think to act on the growing tension you experienced for him, especially when he was in a long term commitment with the closest person in the world to you. 

it all happened in the most random of occurrences too. you still remember meeting him the night you were out at the convenience store to run errands, catching him hunched over a table in a hoodie and messy hair with two bottles of soju in front. he’d flashed you a polite smile and offered to drink together, which realistically, you should’ve declined. you should’ve turned the other way in disgust and walked out on him to tell your best friend what he’d attempted to do, regardless of whether that would’ve led to something or not. instead, you found yourself in his bed that day, moaning his name as he ravished you under the moonlight streaming through his curtains in your combined drunken craze.

the next morning had been full of hiccuped cries, chan cradling you in his arms despite the scalding touch of his hold gnashing against you and leaving metaphorical imprints that you would never be able to scrub off. each time he soothed you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair, you felt the waves of guilt wash over harsher than the last. he continued to reassure you throughout anyways, telling you it’d be okay and that no one would have to know. blindly, you’d believed him, promising yourself and him to never act on either of your arbitrary lust by not letting go of your inhibitions.

that was the first lie you told yourself. 

“y’know, i’m really not a fan of this whole backtalk towards me.” chan criticises, and you laugh bitterly after picking up on his audible disappointment as it hits your ears. “see? there it is again. maybe i’ve gotta teach you some manners, hm?” his tone is sultry once more, leaving you fighting the urge to flush under his gaze. you ultimately lose though, wanting nothing more than to punch him in the face with the way he snickers at your cheeks reddening crimson. instead, you try retain the little dignity you have left as you push against his chest, scanning your parameters with paranoia when he steps closer to you.

“we can’t.” you mumble, clearly slipping. chan’s only response to that is a breathless huff, warm against your face as you peer up at him through your lashes, finally getting a good look at him. he’s wearing his signature hoop earrings today, hair brushed down so his bangs fall over his forehead. the collar of that same dress shirt he’s got on is popped despite a few buttons being undone, leaving the styling choice to highlight his collarbone. that same milky skin you’ve ghosted your nails over multiple times hides underneath the black fabric, leaving you to shiver at the memories of it. it also doesn’t help that the way he towers you is sending your mind reeling into submission way too easily, and you only manage to shake out of it when his fingers trail down to wrap around your wrist, allowing you to feel the cold metal of a ring you recognise all too well press into your joint—

the same half of a promise ring you’d helped him pick out for aeri a year ago.

the realisation that he’s still wearing it hits, and combined with the once again forming shame in the back of your head, it all makes you want to shove him away in favour of storming out of here to tell your best friend everything once and for all. a part of you can sense undue jealousy simmering inside at the fact that he’s still got a piece of her with him too, something you know you have no right to feel, but you try ignore it to your best ability. “chan, we can’t.” you repeat with a hitch in your breath, more so for yourself than him. and yet, you don’t even believe your own words, finding the less rational and weak side of you surrendering to the temptation chan tantalises in you; it overshadows whatever morality you have left.

“d’you really want me to stop?” he breathes out, body sagging far too close into yours for it to be friendly, although you suppose none of your interactions since starting this scandalous relationship have ever been that. his fingers, the very same ones bearing the ring on them, move to wrap around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head up and lock eyes with him. goosebumps prick your skin when you catch sight of the way his gaze is hooded, orbs swirling with black desire he’s begun to reserve only for you in these coming weeks. “because, if you want me to stop, i will.” chan points out. “say the word and i’ll turn around. out of sight, out of mind.” he makes a statement out of it by retracting his hand from you, but the very distinct whine you let out is all the confirmation he needs to press his mouth to yours.

kissing chan always feels like playing with fire. it scorches, and singes, and sears, reducing you to a burnt crisp, yet you can’t help but yearn for the flame he ignites in you. even the way he’s clutching onto you now, pressing forward with a fervour only you bring out in him, has his lips moulding against your cherry stained ones despite not fitting as perfectly as you’d want them to. the two of you are by no means a compatible match for each other; neither of you has made a single good decision ever since you began indulging in whatever you’ve got going on, but you also can’t help but crave the scandalous nature of everything. you’re truly a despicable pair, you think.

“get in the car.” chan’s voice cuts through your thoughts when he pulls away. he doesn’t even give you time to think when he walks over and opens the door, gesturing inside to the warm confines of the backseat. ideally, you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but alas, you’ve never been one to listen to yourself, instead finding your legs scrambling and following suit to shuffle into jake’s vehicle before the weight of your actions even sinks in. chan’s hot on your trail too, and before you can even get comfortable in the cramped space, he’s returning to making out with you, fingers roaming greedily around the expanse of your skin. 

“t-they’ll know we’re gone.” you stutter, moving your face out of his reach to try and stop chan’s movements when it finally dawns on you that your friends had sent you out on an errand you’d taken far too long to complete by now. chan’s only response is to grunt though, tugging you back in for another smouldering kiss that knocks the wind out of your lungs. his hands grasp, pinch, and squeeze whatever part of you they can, until he’s finally decided that he’s had enough foreplay, opting to cage you underneath him and hike up the tight, red dress that’s adorning your body for today’s occasion. “i’ll be quick. i always am.” he winks, and you’re too far gone now to understand that he’s responding to your previous comment, a fact that only makes him chuckle.

“wore this to tease me, yeah?” chan clicks his tongue at the way he has to practically peel off the bottom half of your clothing, the snug fit of the fabric around your curves leaving nothing to the imagination as he bites his lip. he debates whether he’s glad you chose this outfit to show off for him, or if that pisses him off because it means everybody gets an eyeful of your figure; he decides on the latter. “wanted to slut yourself out for my attention? all you had to do was ask, baby.” you shake your head with a whimper, and he raises an eyebrow at your reaction. “d-didn’t.. didn’t wear it for you.” you manage to breathe out, which proves to be the wrong answer because next thing you know, his hand is coming down to smack your clothed core.

you yelp at the sting of his actions, teary eyes blinking up at him in a way that makes chan’s boxers tighten. he’s so close to losing his composure, but he holds back for your sake, not wanting to let you see his cool slip. “is that so? i guess you’re just a dirty girl then.” he sneers, yanking down your soaked panties in one swift motion, leaving you to gasp as the cool air hits your sticky folds.

chan wastes not even one second, knobby digits dragging through the wetness he’s not surprised to find whatsoever. he spreads it over your clit, getting you messier than you already are, especially from the way you appear to leak even more arousal from his movements. he touches you until you’re twitching under his hold, biting back the sounds that threaten to escape you, which seems to be a fact he doesn’t approve of from the way he pinches your nub between his fingers; you cry out softly from the rush of stimulation it shoots through you. “eyes on me.” chan growls, sliding his hand down to circle your oozing hole before he’s abruptly shoving two fingers inside.

“fuck.” you moan this time, loud and clear. this seems to satisfy him, seeing as he rewards you with a steady pump of his digits thrusting into your heat. his speed in fingering you increases quickly, and it isn’t long before he’s scissoring you open, the sloppy sounds of your juices slicking up his fingers and echoing in the stuffy space of jake’s car. you’re probably staining the leather of the seats, but neither you nor chan seem to care about that right now, not when he’s knuckle deep inside your wet cunt and you’re making such pretty noises all for him.

“just filthy, aren’t ya? getting finger fucked in the back of your friends car. i bet your dumb little brain can’t even understand what i’m saying right now.” chan mocks, his tone laced with a level of condescension that only makes you buck your hips up to chase his movements. you know he’s completely right too, because the way he’s thrusting his digits inside you, stroking your warm walls with the tips of them has you seeing stars to the point you can’t even respond back something snarky in return. “all you’re good for is being a nasty toy for sir’s use, hm?” you barely even register his question, only remembering you need to answer him when he pulls his wet hand away to smack you once more, this time over your swollen bundle of nerves.

“y-yes, sir. only a toy for you. jus’ you.” you mindlessly slur out, and chan groans at that. not even a moment passes before he’s sinking his fingers back inside you, curling them up to massage that rough spot which always has you clenching down on him. his expression twists to a smug one when you jerk forward instantly. bingo, he thinks. “that’s that spot there, yeah? the one that has you losing yourself on me?” he coos, but his voice drips with a smidge of venom you can’t quite fixate on just yet. instead, you nod dumbly, spasming around him as you try grind upwards to chase the rising sensation of your climax. 

chan leans into your frame, one hand splayed flat onto jake’s backseat above your head to maintain his balance whilst his body hovers over you. by now, your eyes are clenched shut, but he can’t even find it in him to get mad at you over that, not when you’re dribbling down his wrist and mewling so pretty under the glow of the night as he works you towards your orgasm. “c’mon, baby. cum f’me. wanna see you cum so pretty for sir.” he encourages, jaw locked with concentration. 

it only takes about one or two flicks of his expertly trained thumb pressing on your puffy clit, combined with the pads of his fingers hitting your g-spot with terrifying accuracy, before you’re shuddering through your climax. a small, clear stream of liquid sprays out the sides of where he’s got you plugged up, and he pulls his hand away in favour of rubbing you over to coax out the last remnants of your high. your quivering body thrashes when he tries to draw out the remaining few droplets again, weakly bringing your arm up to push him away gently when the shocks of overstimulation begin to take over. chan dips down to place one, final kiss on your lips, smooching down to your chin as a way to say you did well. his actions make you heart beat out of your chest, but you don’t say anything about the domesticity of them. 

you wonder if he ever treated aeri like this after having been intimate with her.

“go in first. i’ll clean up the car.” chan clears his throat after a short while, not daring to make eye contact with you as he quietly pulls your underwear back up your legs. you watch in silence while he sits up, looking for a rag to fix the mess you two made when that same awkward air you’ve gotten used to facing with him enters the atmosphere, leaving you to try and ignore how it tugs at the strings of your soul as you give a curt nod. “don’t forget the beer.” you remind him before swinging the door open to step outside, finding yourself back in the nipping cold of the winter night.

you try and stand on your wobbly legs to straighten out the creases of your dress, paying no mind to the way your skin echoes with the ghost of chan’s previous touch. behind you, you can hear him rolling down the windows to let the musky smell of sex out of jake’s backseat, and you almost dare to sneak a glance back until deciding against it, knowing it’ll just hurt more. instead, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, opening them to land on the small balcony of your friend’s apartment where the rest of your group seems to have already gathered from the silhouettes you can see through the foggy glass. your conscience feels heavy with the weight of the knowledge that aeri is up there too, but you brush it off, just like all the other times you have.

i didn’t do anything wrong, you tell yourself, i’m still in the clear. that’s the second lie you’ve tried to believe in these last two months. a long sigh escapes your lips at that realisation, but you bite it down when making your way back inside the building, choosing to rack your brain on what shitty excuse you’ll have to provide this time for being gone so long.

. . .

to your surprise, nobody bothers to question why either you or chan disappeared, simply whisking you back in conversation about unrelated topics when you walk in through the door a few minutes before him. as per usual, your heart still feels heavy when you watch aeri laugh at something heeseung and sieun are arguing over, but you cover it up by letting out a noise of amusement yourself, hoping it throws off any suspicion that might be directed your way. you don’t bother turning your head upon hearing jake’s delight at the sight of chan entering his apartment with the very much requested pack of beer too, deciding to force a smile at whatever point heeseung is busy making over looking back no matter how much your body itches to do so.

it’s even worse how from the corner of your eye, you can see aeri shifting uncomfortably on her feet at her ex-boyfriend’s second arrival, her expression dropping in the slightest so as to not draw attention to herself, but it’s still enough for you to notice. it only makes the weight of your actions dawn on you further, and you can’t help but let your mind wander as to what she’d say if she knew what truly went on behind closed doors. despite your best efforts to bury those thoughts beneath you though, you know there’s nothing you can do to make amends to the problems you’ve created yourself. after all, you’ve got to reap what you sow.

the party continues to kick in on full swing after that, with you and aeri both doing your best to keep your distances from chan for all too different reasons. it doesn’t help that you can feel someone’s stare raking across your figure throughout the duration of the evening, and when you finally do decide to sneak a glance in that direction with expectations of finding chan ogling you over, you’re met with a different answer—

for it isn’t you he’s busy looking at, but rather your best friend that’s been glued to your side since the beginning of the night. 

he averts his gaze as quick as he’d cast it when you catch him, seamlessly blending back in discussion with whatever nonsense changbin is rambling about this time, acting like he hadn’t just been getting an eyeful of his ex-girlfriend moments prior. you also don’t miss how he fiddles with the old ring that adorns his right hand, long fingers twisting it around the middle digit in a way that’s reminiscent of his past behaviour, or at least based on what you’d often find him doing back then. 

his actions spark a memory deep from the confines of your brain, one you wish you hadn’t remembered as the vision of chan asking you to help pick out promise rings for him and aeri crosses your mind. it was raining heavily that day, but he’d insisted that the two of you go out in secret anyways so he could buy his then girlfriend a token of his love and appreciation. he’d claimed you knew her taste the best and could therefore help in selecting a better possible gift for their upcoming anniversary than he ever could. 

you’d hesitantly agreed, and although you weren’t sure how it would all play out, you later found yourself sharing an umbrella and visiting various jewellery stores to point out all the designs you knew your closest friend would adore. chan had settled soon on a matching pair for the two of them, beaming in your direction with a bright smile that left you weak in the knees despite however much you tried to hide it. a few days later, aeri excitedly showed off her own silver band to you, buzzing about how he’d chosen the perfect present that she couldn’t wait to replace with a real one in their future; you couldn’t help then but think if he ever told her it was all your idea instead of his.

“hey, can you hold my phone?” your best friend’s voice cuts through your inner replay, and you blink in a daze to find her facing you, expression innocent. “hyunjin asked to play beer pong, and i don’t have any pockets to put it away in safely.” she explains at your confused face, but all you can do is nod as you robotically outstretch your arm to take it off of her. unfortunately or fortunately, that’s when you notice it—

the same matching ring on her hand.

aeri doesn’t pay you any attention when she drops off her device into your awaiting palm, not even realising you’re zeroed in on the jewellery that decorates her left hand with a fire burning in your eyes that you’re both ignorant of. you don’t stop gaping even when felix shakes your shoulder, asking you what you’re so fixated on before leaving you be under the impression that you’re probably just drunk out of your head. meanwhile, you’re still frozen in place, everything around you seeming to slow down.

why is chan wearing a ring he bought for his ex-girlfriend two years ago to a party he knows she’s going to be at? no, why does said ex-girlfriend also have her matching pair of the ring on her hand at a party she too is aware he’s going to be present for? much less, why are either of them hung up on each other to the point they’re carrying around reminders of their past relationship with one another? you know the answer to all these questions, but you don’t wish to sit and delve into them in fear you might throw up at the conclusion they’ll give you. instead, all you can do is squeeze the can of seltzer you’d spiked in your hand dangerously tight out of unwanted emotion, enough for some of the liquid inside to spill out. you can’t be bothered to care about it though, just like how you can’t be bothered to care about how anybody in their right mind could probably see you gawking at chan right now.

you watch as he cracks up at a joke seungmin makes, his head falling back in a fit of laughter you’ve been a happy witness or recipient of multiple times, yet this time it fills you with emotion that you don’t wish to identify in fear it’d mean something more than what you’re capable of confronting right now. even so, you can’t stop the train of questions invading your thoughts at the view in front of you. did he laugh like that with aeri? smile so wide with her? couldn’t help the joy that spread across due to her presence? maybe that’s why he came today, because he couldn’t take his mind off of her, especially seeing as he was wearing a symbol of their time spent before right now. 

but, what does that say about you in this picture? were you just a scapegoat to escape all those feelings for him? had you been one this entire time, only deluding yourself into thinking what you both had translated into a situation deeper and could potentially progress into one even more had things happened under different circumstances? the more you think, the more you feel nauseous, and you can’t stop yourself from diverting your gaze to where your best friend is, observing her concentrated face as she attempts to aim a ping pong ball into one of the lined up solo cups. your eyes involuntarily flicker to the ring on her finger once more, its evident shimmer reflecting in the light causing you to clutch your drink tighter. 

you’re not a jealous person by any means. you know your boundaries, hence you know chan isn’t yours. he isn’t an object you can own, and neither are you to him. that was the unspoken agreement you both nodded on when you got into this entire ordeal— you’re both free to see other people openly in front of aeri as long as it’s not each other, because the latter you manage in secret despite the shame that surges in you two upon doing so. it doesn’t matter if you wish to stake your claim on him, to see the marks you leave on him evident on his skin the next morning for him to show off other girls who think they stand a chance at him taking them to bed. it doesn’t matter how much your heart aches when you wake up to the blanket strewn aside from his absence, the sheets long gone cold to indicate that he’d left hours ago. it doesn’t matter how much you wish to cling onto his arm in public and profess your.. feelings for him in front of everyone else.

it simply doesn’t matter, it never did. chan’s never been yours, and he never will be anytime soon.

20:51 PM from: Myself meet me at the upstairs bathroom in five

you punch in the message before you can even think, watching it turn from delivered to read in a matter of seconds. the three dots next to chan’s side of texts appear, indicating that he’s typing, but you choose to lock your device rather than waiting like a dog to see him reply. instead, your feet lead you to your designated location, taking one step at a time leisurely as opposed to in a rush so as to not draw unwanted attention to yourself. right as you reach the door handle, your phone pings with a familiar ringtone.

20:52 PM from: dni!!! Reacted with “👍🏻” to your message

you sigh. tonight was going to be a long night.

. . .

skin slapping. heavy panting. low grunting. 

that’s all you can hear from where you’re splayed across the sink in the small confines of jake’s bathroom, aside from the occasional thumping of music booming from downstairs. if you strain your ear enough, you’ll be able to make out the lyrics to the cliche song that’s come up on shuffle, but you honestly lack the mentality to care about that right now, especially considering the way chan has your legs pushed apart in favour of drilling his length into you. each thrust is rapid and fervent in nature, seeming to knock the wind out of your lungs to the point you don’t even realise how loud you’re being until his hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth. “be fucking quiet.” he sneers, leaving you to drool everywhere. the only reaction he spares when you try muffle out an apology is a sickening smirk at that too. 

“needed this, didn’t you, slut? always need to be filled with some cock like a bitch in heat.” chan chuckles, but there’s a dark edge to his voice that sends shivers crawling up your spine. he presses down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers, and you can’t stop the garbling of spit choking past your lips from the way his thickness nestles deep inside you. each heavy drag of his dick against your rough walls leaves you clenching and attempting to buck your hips forward, but you can’t even manage that with the grip he has on your waist. the mere idea that all chan really needs to restrain you is the simple strength of his one hand sends your mind reeling, so much so that you don’t even realise he’s speaking to you until the hand that was previously in your mouth pulls out to slap light and wet against your cheek.

“i asked you a question, whore.” chan growls, the sound resonating warm within your stomach despite the mean undertone to it as his movements still. you blink up at him in confusion at this point, doe eyes brimming with tears that threaten to spill from the loss of pleasure in a way that has chan damn near finishing. it doesn’t help that he’s buried to the hilt currently, hissing painfully at how you squeeze down on him in involuntary instinct. for a split second, you swear you see the ridges on his face soften, and the manner in which he looms over you feels filled with more comfort than intimidation, but that smidge of emotion vanishes as soon as it arrives. “i said,” chan’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “do you wanna get caught?” you rapidly shake your head no at that, and chan cocks his head to the side.

“oh, really?” he muses, nails sliding over to dig into the supple flesh of your thigh, making you whine out loud. “‘cause with the way you’re making so much noise like that, i’d have assumed the opposite.” with a click of his tongue, his actions resume. luckily, all that escapes you is a loud gasp this time, an anxious clamp of your palm over your mouth barely covering up the rest of your lewdity. you wish so desperately to refute, to plead him in favour of slowing down and having some mercy, but the sensation of his bulbous cockhead slamming roughly into that one spot only sends stars in your vision and prevents your previous desires. 

your body jerks in chan’s hold even more when his same hand still lubed with your saliva finds it way between where you’re connected, leaving you to suppress a pathetic whimper that longs to bubble out of your throat as he presses the tips of his fingers to your swollen clit. his touch is harsh, filled with an overwhelming need to make you burst at the seams, but the fear that lingers in the back of your head refuses to let you fall apart so easily, not when aeri is barely a flight of stairs from your vicinity. chan decides he isn’t fond of the silence you’re giving him though, pulling out with a quiet mumble for you to get down and face the mirror. he sheaths himself back in just as quickly, setting an unforgiving pace from the seemingly more accessible position, and this time, you really can’t stop the long drawn out moan that escapes you. 

“j-just like that, yeah, baby? all those filthy noises are just for me, aren’t they?” he sounds more delirious this time, presumably drunk off the essence of this situation from the possessive gibberish he’s spouting, just like he always does in the heat of the moment. unfortunately for you, you’re no better than him, nodding furiously in agreement as you babble high-pitched and breathy. “so good, sir! s-so, so fucking good, feels so good! wan’ cum f’you, p-please. ‘m a good girl, please lemme cum, please, please, please.” small stutters spew out of you mid-sentence, but neither of you can be bothered by them, too wrapped up in the throes of all-consuming passion and contempt even to register what’s being said. 

“such a nasty, nasty girl.. getting fucked by your best friend’s ex. don’t you feel a-any shame?” chan groans almost wearily in midst of his lust-filled haze, eyes catching yours from the reflection of the mirror that’s displaying you getting absolutely wrecked right now. the sight of you so fucked up and in bliss, no coherent thought visible by the looks of your dazed expression and tongue halfway lolling out— it all has him burning with hot, rampant hunger. hunger for you, hunger to claim you. “look at yourself.” he rasps, fingers clutching at your chin to force you into meeting where he is. “look how dirty you are, fuck. what would she say about you wrapped so warm and snug around my cock? hm? think we should— ah. think we should call her in and find out?” 

the tears that were brewing in your waterline are streaming down your face by now, horrifically mimicking the disgusting manner in your wetness seeping and dripping down chan’s balls. you feel awful. downright terrible and tainted, forever branded by the searing touch of chan’s skin grazing against yours because that’s what you are, that’s what you have been for the past two months. down from the night you let him lead you into his sheets, following the countless occasions you found yourself returning there, and finally falling to now, your underwear strewn across the tiles of jake’s bathroom as you spread your legs for the same man who broke your best friend’s heart; the same man who you’ve let into yours after very consciously disregarding the repercussions of your actions. 

you’re truly a loathsome piece of work.

“think she’d like to watch me fill this pussy up? watch me shoot my load deep inside you over and over again until i’m sure it’s taken?” chan mutters, hot breath fanning against your sweaty neck. “maybe i should breed this stupid cunt full of my seed and send you back out there with it spilling past your legs. that way, every time you sit down, you’ll feel it inside you.” the mental image of his release lodged in your walls as you’re surrounded by all your friends, surrounded by the one person you’ve both been hiding from, all of them oblivious to the way he’s staked his claim on you except for the shared knowledge between you two and you two only— it has you quivering to the point you physically keen in his hold. chan, however, just laughs sadistically at your reaction. 

“you’ll feel it as a reminder of me, yeah? a reminder that you’re just as terrible as me. coming to me to get this slutty cunt stuffed even though you know you shouldn’t.” he continues to whisper. “after all, it takes two to tango, darling.” chan makes it a point to tilt his hips up in an effort to ensure his mushroom tip hits your g-spot with precise force, all the while breathlessly uttering more sickening words in your ear in hopes of fulfilling your need for relief. 

surely enough, the combination of his cock shoving itself past your opening and his guilt-inducing remarks that only make you sob harder work you up to the point of no return. all it really takes after that is one touch of his thumb to your pulsating nub to eventually have you seizing up in no time, your pussy messily tightening and gushing as your high crashes over you in large waves of ecstasy. it seems to trigger him too, because by the time you even realise you’re there, chan’s twitching and leaking spurts of thick cum inside you. there’s so much of it that it trickles past where he’s got you plugged up, and you barely comprehend yourself pushing a hand near your oozing hole to catch it on your fingertips. 

you both come to slowly, ragged breathing that fills the air growing quieter to pair with the musk of the room. chan’s gaze is still trained on you through the mirror, unreadable just like always whenever you’ve made the same mistake again, but you take the opportunity in this instance specifically to raise the hand that’s collected his seed in it to your mouth, proceeding to lick up the droplets of his excess release. even though you don’t catch his stare in the reflection, you can still feel it burning holes through your head, a fact that only leaves goosebumps rising over your skin. it’s only when you pull your hand away once more to catch the last of his remaining cum that he decides to finally interject, grabbing your palm in his coarse one with hooded eyes. they’re blown out when he tugs your back flush into his chest, the impact leaving his length pushing deeper inside, and they’re blown out when his fingers wrap around your neck to give it a slight squeeze, the little loss of oxygen making your mind spin.

“you think that’s funny? teasing me even after i just fucked you? after i left my mark on you and made sure you know that you’re mine?” chan murmurs, lips sultrily ghosting the shell of your ear. you want to fixate on what he’d addressed you as, let it marinate in your thoughts and brood over it for the next weeks to come even if it was just an absentminded slip of the mouth, but your focus is interrupted by the moving of his hips against yours picking up once more. the previously repeated actions send his dick driving into you again, breaching your cervix and pressing deliciously into every nook and cranny in a way that has you nearly losing your footing, but chan is quicker to hold you up with his free hand. “w-wait, ‘m still sensitive.” you manage to tremble out at a particularly well-placed graze of his cock, but chan doesn’t seem to care, grinding into you even more eagerly at your admission to the point you struggle to keep the sounds spilling out you at bay.

there’s a resounding knock on the door all of a sudden, one that makes your breath hitch and your chest twist in uneasiness. some part of you feels wary and on edge, and you would assume chan’s movements would halt at that, but he doesn’t show any signs of stopping, ignoring your frantic attempts to make him do so by holding you in place instead as he begins to pick up the pace. “s-stop, we’ll get caught.” you heave out upon the noise of skin slapping rising in volume. you do your best to stand your ground, to avoid the gradual closing of your eyes and the mushy fog of your brain clouding over in euphoria, but it’s to no avail. you’re about to let go of your inhibitions completely, to forget about what had just happened and throw caution into the wind in order to lose yourself in the moment, until—

“y/n, i know you’re in there with chris.”

. . .

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