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mv1simp · 11 months ago

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max taking advantage of innocent!best friend!reader … like a dynamic where he spoils her a lot and has made him look her think that all his strange behaviors/touches are normal

I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA FOR AGES THANK U FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE TO WRITE IT 🙏🙏🙏

Friends ♥️

Max Verstappen x Childhood Best Friend!Reader

And what the hell were we, tell me we weren’t just friends, this doesn’t make much sense, no

Max has been your closest friend since childhood, promising to always look after you. Sure, everyone gossips that you two are secretly dating, that it’s not normal for friends to be so close, so touchy - but Max blows it all off. So when you ask him for help when you want to get a boyfriend for the first time, it shouldn’t be a problem because Max doesn’t like you like that…right?

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin! Reader, manipulative dark best friend! Max, dubcon, size kink, dom/sub, somnophilia, recording, this is DARK 🥸 3.3k WC

You and Max had grown up close together, your families being good friends as your fathers had raced together back in the day. He had been shy and awkward when you met, age 5 and 6, but as soon as he had stepped in front of you in defence when you had been bullied in school the next day, you vowed to always be loyal to him. Your families approved the friendship, laughing and taking pictures when you two would play house - Max always being the husband doll to your wife doll, of course. You two did everything together - school, holidays, racing where you always came to support him bearing snacks and words of encouragement. So when he asked you at age 18 to move with him to Monaco you didn’t even hesitate to say yes - not imagining a life without your Maxie by your side.

Your move raised a few eyebrows from your family, who had been suprised that you hadn’t outgrown what they had thought was an innocent childhood crush. Your older sister had been especially worried at the thought of you alone in a new city with only Max there to support you. She noticed, sometimes, when he thought no one was watching - how his eyes would be watching you, in a way eerily similar to how a wolf watched a lamb he was about to devour whole. Althought it had taken a lot of pleading from your end to win her over, it had been easy enough to convince your parents to let you go, explaining you were enrolling in Monaco University - being bankrolled by Max’s new generous F1 salary - and yes, promised that you were staying in your own separate apartment. And that had been the plan, but when you stood in the entrance to Max’s penthouse a few weeks later, dripping head to toe with sprinkler water because somehow your up to code apartment had a fire when you had been out, he had insisted you stay at his until you found a new place - just for a short while. A short while then turned into a long while which then turned into the lockdown and at the end of it all Max had said you just couldn’t leave, he was too used to having you there that coming home to an empty apartment would be too hard. And although you had worried, saying that as you both got older it might be strange that you now lived together and people would talk, Max shot down all your concerns, reassuring you with a warm hug and sweet kiss to your forehead that the only opinion that mattered was yours, and as long as you’re happy Schat, I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. You had blushed from the affection and that was the end of that discussion.

You’d always been quite sheltered, naive even - and going to a strict private school meant you hadn’t had any romantic or sexual experience whatsoever. Growing up, it was clear to the adults around you that you had always held a crush on Max, and althought the older boy would always look out for you, he didn’t reciprocate to the same way - at least that’s what they thought. They hadn’t noticed that when you two had been gently separated one night when it had been deemed you were too old to sleep in the same bed anymore, Max had crept back and grabbed your hand as he lay next to you, mumbling he couldn’t sleep without you, liefje. No one noticed that this habit continued well into your teens, when Max would climb in through your bedroom window - initially making you freak out but soon reassured by Max’s words that your parents were just too strict, you were just two best friends wanting to spend time together.

And the first time you woke up one morning to feel something thick and hard pressing into you from the back, scaring you a bit, Max had gently rubbed your shoulder from the back while telling you it was okay, it’s just something that happens sometimes when a guy sleeps next to a pretty girl, you had blushed and accepted the compliment. And no one knew that behind closed doors your chaste goodbye kisses to Max’s cheek began turning into loving kisses on the lips when he had tilted your head up, saying he was going to miss you so much when he went on his first F1 race and he deserves a goodbye kiss for good luck from you, didn’t he?

And of course you would always give Max whatever he asked for since he was your best friend, your protector, the person you loved the most in the world. He’d pay for you, drive you everywhere, cheer you up when you were down, make you laugh, patiently take you shopping and rate every outfit you tried on, fight anyone who dared to give you a hard time - and the rest of the paddock had definitely noticed the lingering attentions of the Redbull driver to his childhood friend. Daniel and Lando constantly gave him shit for it, saying he needed to grow a pair and just confess instead of making puppy eyes at his “best friend”. Max always just rolled his eyes at their gossiping ways.

But it was hard to deny their claims when Max would pull you in to sit on his lap at a games night making everyone smirk at you, or when you would emerge from his hotel room the next morning since you two still shared a bed everytime you went away - it’s just like a sleepover when we were little, scatje, nothing wrong with it - or when at fancy award ceremonies or galas Max would be photographed in his tux, a vogue model at his side as his latest girlfriend - and you on his other side, wearing a luxury dress he’d brought for you. The paparazzi would eat up the dirty looks Max’s flings would always be shooting you, knowing they always came second to his best friend.

The thing was, even when sometimes doubt would flicker in your mind that things were too intimate, too romantic, between you and Maxie - you couldn’t bring yourself to want to draw back. You’d always secretly had such a crush on the older boy growing up, but since he had never directly reciprocated and was now a big world champion with women around every corner in Monaco after him, you’d learnt to accept your feelings were unrequited and you needed to stop reading so much into Max’s pure intentions to look after you. After all, that’s what best friends did, right?

And oh, did Max look after you. It seemed every week he’d level up more and more. Matching jewellery and heels to go with the designer dresses, and lately you had come home to find matching lingerie in Max’s favourite colour, dark blue. You had blushed furiously, feeling an indescribable icky pit in your stomach and remembering your sister’s warnings - Max goes too far, he pushes the boundaries of a normal friendship - but Max put all your worries to ease over the homecooked dinner you made him that night, explaining that the latest dress just happened to come with matching accessories and he wanted to make sure that you felt beautiful in all the layers you wore and it was normal to give your best friends gift, no? But he could return it if you’d prefer… prompting you to hastily accept his intimate gift, reassuring him that it was so thoughtful and you were so grateful. He’d looked so pleased with your response that when he ordered more and more sets, each one getting just a touch more lacier and risqué, you just thanked him for each one. And when he asked you how you found your gift, could he have a look at it, please schatje, I always help you pick your prettiest outfits right? You had nodded in agreement, blushing but shyly pulling his hoodie off your torso to expose the outrageously expensive La Perla black lace set you wore, accentuating your plump ass and pushing your tits up for him to hungrily look at. Max’s gaze had lingered there for a long time, his gaze turning dark and you had felt that same uncomfortable pit begin to settle in your stomach again when he saw the look on your face and patted your soft, chubby waist in reassurance, saying don’t be embarrased, schat, we always grew up seeing each other like this, right? Remember that photo of us swimming in that pool in Ibiza? Completely naked? Besides, you’ve seen me shirtless so many times, this is the same as that. That was true, you accepted dreamily, and not thinking anything of it when Max started asking you to send photos of you modelling the cute sets he’d get delivered to you when he was away. You happily snapped away mirror selfies, in all the different angles he wanted to see you from, even strange ones you weren’t quite sure about like bend over and stick your hips right up in the air, hmm schat?

He’d kiss you goodbye now all the time, saying you were his cute little good luck charm, with the expectation that you’d open your lips wide for him, letting him shove his tongue into your mouth and explore it to his hearts content. Gotta have a better kiss to get better luck. It felt so nice and made you feel all tingly between your legs so you would never turn it down. And since Max was away more and more with his racing schedule, often he would come home and fall asleep straight in your bed, saying he had missed being away from you so much. You had thought it was so sweet, no one else but you got to see Maxie like that, you were the only one he depended on. So you easily wrapped yourself up in his embrace, just like when you two had been little - except this time Max would say you’re so tense, schat, let me help you relax a bit, my physio knows this great muscle relaxation technique-

And it felt soo nice when he rubbed your sensitive little body up and down, you had no complaints, not even when some nights he would travel much, much lower down your plush little tummy than he had before. You just obediently parted your legs for him when he commanded in his deep voice, running his thick finger up your slit through your wet lace panties. And sometimes you’d wake up to feel that very familiar hardness of his behind you, soo warm now as he took himself out of his sweatpants and let his cock rest against you. Feels all tense, sweetheart, cause you kept rubbing against it last night and I didn’t get any sleep he would sigh.

You’d feel terrible, apologising profusely for interrupting his precious sleep when he trained so much, asking how you could make it up to him when Max had said just gonna let it relax out onto you, yeah? Don’t worry, you can even go back to bed, baby. You’d nodded sleepily, so grateful that Maxie was so sweet he always put your sleep first, even when his had been deprived.

He’d waited before you were comfortably nuzzled back against him, breaths turning deeper as sleep overtook you before slowly lifting your damp panties out of the way, and sliding his leaking tip just along the entrance to your innocent hole, making you moan, half asleep cause it felt soo good, and you felt so guilty that you felt so much pleasure while Max had just become frustrated overnight. With your eyes screwed shut you’d never notice the dark lustful look in his eyes, the evil smirk on his face as he had his way with you, letting him getting away with practically murder if it was for the sake of your friendship. You let him continue gliding his cock along your puffy folds, his tip repeatedly stimulating your sensitive clit, his large hands coming up to fondle at your boobs that has somehow slipped out of your camisole and gently flick your nipples before he tensed, holding you tightly against him as his breaths quickened. You has felt something warm and wet leaking out from the sides of your panties. You looked down, dazed, but Max shushed you back asleep, lulling you into his arms again. And when you woke up next you always had a clean pair of fresh panties on, camisole tucked back down over your thick hips, Max no where in sight.

As you grew up, your sexual curiosity eventually began to peak. When all of your friends in uni had gotten boyfriends and giggled to you about how good sex felt, you had gotten curious too. of course, you would never bring it up with Max even though you two talked about everything - because you should only be talking about sex with your future boyfriend, right? But one day when you had come home early from class you had heard lewd noises coming from Max’s bedroom. So lewd that you had been unable to stop yourself from peeking through a slight gap. The sight of Max thrusting himself into his latest girlfriend, her face pushed down into the mattress as he drilled into her from the back made you blush furiously. You’d stood there for a little while, your panties getting damp at the sight of sweat dripping down Max’s abs before you had caught yourself and scurried away, so guilty about violating Max’s privacy like that. You were such a creep, what was wrong with you?!

But that afternoon had also made you realize Maxie had so much more experience than you as you hadn’t been sure what a lot of the movement and positions you had seen that day were. And Max had said you could always ask him for help with anything, right? You couldn’t quite build up the courage to ask him - until your classmate asked you out one day, making you giddy with excitement but come crushing down when he had later found out on the date that you were a virgin, and had said maybe it was best for you to be with someone who was more on your level, that he didn’t feel comfortable being with someone so inexperienced for a casual fling. You’d come home sobbing, running straight into Max’s arms in your cute little dress and strappy heels, crying Maxie, he was so mean, you’d never believe what he said-

Max had been furious when you told him the story. He was so, so angry - not only at your classmate, but at you, for going on this date and not telling him, the way you would always tell Max about everything you did in your day. How could you be so careless, so slutty to go out with a guy like that? Max demanded, making your eyes widen and cry harder. It’s those new girlfriends of yours, aren’t they, they’re such fucking whores.

You’d never seen him so angry before, not even when he had a DNF at a race weekend. He’d only seems to calm down when you had looked up at him with innocent eyes, pleading Maxie, please, will you teach me how to be a good girlfriend, I don’t want to be so inexperienced anymore.

He’d sighed and run his hands through your hair, wiping away the tears that had made mascara drip down your cheeks. Of course, schat. I’ll show you exactly how to be a good little girlfriend. But promise me that you won’t talk to another guy without my permission first, okay? I have to protect you and make sure that you’re trained enough to have a boyfriend.

It was so, so sweet of Max to take time out of his busy schedule to help your embarrassing problem, you thought dreamily. You never noticed that your classmate never turned up to class again, but did have to go to hospital that week for a new black eye and bruised ribs.

Meanwhile, Max first started your “lessons” by showing you how to pump him from soft to a raging erection, guiding your hands into his sweatpants and moving your hands up and down, after you spit cutely into your palms to ease the glide. You didn’t notice the smirk on his face as he watched your struggle to jack off his entire sizeable length with your tiny palms.

Then he’d shown you how to use your mouth to make him feel good. You’d sat on your ass for hours in between his legs as he absentmindedly played his game, drawing kitten licks up his shaft before he’d taken over and told you to relax that tight throat of yours, baby, as he shoved his cock inside your mouth. He’d jackhammered away happily without any regard for the tears that emerged from your eyes. You had coughed, spluttered, throat raw for days as Max made you practise on the daily, tutting at you in mock disappointment when your gag reflux got in the way and you stopped halfway down his length. He’d pulled you up to sit on his lap, his hard cock wedged in between your plush thighs, as he put a dirty video onto the TV - petite ebony deepthroats massive white cock like a pro.

You had blushed and stuttered at the obscene video, looking away at one point but Max had forced your head back to look at the scene, saying don’t miss this bit, schat, look how she doesn’t forget about his balls, yeah?

You’d watched video after dirty video until you had perfected your blowjob technique exactly to Max’s likings. You look up obediently at him as he points his phone at you, flash on and all, recording your performance for reference, of course scatje, we need to track your progress, right? as you sloppily took his hard cock into your eager mouth, all the way to the base, gag reflux well and truly trained out of you from his daily discipline.

You’d woken up the next morning to find Max’s blonde curls between your legs, his tongue sweetly licking at your most innocent parts and you had squealed in shock, Maxie what are you doing ohmygod- but he quickly thrust his fingers into your drooling mouth to shut you up, just progressing to the next level, sweetheart, you need to learn to cum whenever I ask you too.

You’d squeaked and whined as his tongue didn’t stop flicking your clit, his fingers now joining in abusing your poor little virgin cunny until you begged him to pull away, Maxie please I feel funny, I think I’m going to pee- Ahhh!!! You’d ended up squirting all over his fingers and tongue, immediately passing out from exhaustion at the sheer intensity and missing the dark, pleased grin on Max’s face as he licked up your juices from his fingers. God, it was almost too easy to brainwash you into his perfect little pet. Soon he’d having you asking him to claim your virginity, he just knew it. And he would not hesitate, taking what had always belonged him anyways. He’d have made you his housewife a long time ago if your goddamn sister hadn’t kept cockblocking him.

Never mind that. Even she wouldn’t be able to withhold her blessing when you’d turn up at the next family gathering, glowing and expecting his child, he thought darkly. Smirking to himself, Max unbuttoned his pants, freeing his hard cock. In fact, why wait to feed you some bullshit excuse about how no baby, virgins can’t get pregnant the first time or no, I can’t use a condom, schat, it’s bad for you to have something unnatural inside you.

He might as well start now and give you a thick creampie as your present to wake up to later ♥️ After all, you’d take it like the good girl you always were for him.

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A/N: Chile anywaysssss don’t mind me and my depraved thoughts. Gotta go drink some holy water fr. Lmk what you guys thought! Feel free to request more x

#max verstappen #f1 smut #max verstappen fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #formula 1 #max verstappen x you #smut #dark smut #18+ mdni #mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen x oc

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rinsoap · 11 months ago

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➣ includes : brother's best friend! suna rintaro. oh and also small age gap between him and the reader, only two ish years though. LOWKEY SUGGESTIVE? one mention of the reader not wearing a bra if that is something u deem suggestive.

note : i'm so in love with romantic and sexual tension between u n suna it's so fun to write! also lmk if u want a pt2 or something not sure what i'd do for a pt2 but y'all can send in some ideas lol

suna rintaro who is your brother’s best friend… he likes seeing you around the house, ready for bed looking so cute in your comfy shorts and a little top n no bra. he likes that he gets to see what you look like everyday instead of only seeing you dolled up. he likes when you’re glammed, of course, you always look stunning. he just likes stealing glances of you do everyday tasks.

like tonight, in the kitchen far too late in the night, he’ll lean against the doorframe as he watches you make a snack. he notices the curves of your shoulders, and how the small of your back peeks out from your top riding up a little. you’re still humming the song you’ve had stuck in your head all day. you turn around and surprised to see him, you gasp, causing him to widen his lazy half smile. you roll your eyes, party because he scared you, but also because he looks way too good. hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants loose around his hips, hair messy, and a white tank top on that fits him perfectly. he looks like a slut.

“what could you possibly want,” you sigh, and he shrugs in response. “just wanna see what you’re up to”

“where’s my brother? shouldn’t you be hanging with him?” you question, pointing a strawberry pop tart at him accusingly.

“he’s asleep” he closes the distance between you to take the pop tart out of your hand, taking a rather generous bite.

“rin stop, oh my god you just ate like half of it,” you exclaim, snatching it back, “you’ve already cleaned out half the fridge, when will your greedy ass be satisfied?”

“rin?” he cocks his head, his sleepy smile settling into a smug one, “you haven’t called me that since, like, elementary school” the eye contact he so casually maintains is difficult for you to keep, and your face gets furiously hot, looking away. “yeah well, i kind of thought you were embarrassed by it, so i got embarrassed and i stopped” you try to exit the conversation and walk past him to the doorway he was just standing in, trying to signal that you were going to leave to your bedroom. he follows you, much to your dismay. he leans against the doorway, his back to it, and you mimick his action. you're both looking directly at each other, and it feels weirdly intimate. seeing each other face on meant he could see every expression on your face.

“why would you think that? i wasn’t embarrassed.” he says, his eyes scan you from your painted toenails to the top of your head, but inevitably looking into your eyes. after a beat of hesitation, he continues talking. “...you know, i had a crush on you then. i was really sad when you stopped calling me it.”

the heat in your face returns as he laughs. how can he sit there and laugh after dropping this insane piece of information??

“you’re kidding. i totally liked you back, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you look at him incredulously, mouth agape and growing annoyed as you realize he was not as shocked finding out your feelings as you were in learning his.

“yeah, i figured. but your brother, you know? and just in case i wasn’t right, i didn’t want you to reject me and then show up at your house the next day to watch movies with your brother” he had a point. you remember those movie nights. you always wanted to watch with them, but your brother would always say no and kick you out of the room. suna always let you watch anyways, offering a seat on the couch beside him despite his best friend’s wishes.

the movie nights were not the only thing your mind was pondering on. if he knew about your crush then, did he know now? your feelings were much too complicated for you to call it a crush, and you'd like to think you've learned how to be at least a little subtle, so maybe he didn't know.

"that’s crazy. we just barely missed each other i guess” you finally say with a chuckle that turns into a thoughtful hum, glancing anywhere but his eyes.

"what? so, you don't have a crush on me anymore?" oh, so he did know. he easily closes the gap between you two, and for once, it doesn't seem like he's teasing you. "rin..." you say, mouth slightly open like you're going to add something else, but you don't. "i don't think we missed anything... am i wrong?" he leans towards, and you swear he's going to kiss you but he stops before your lips touch, "you can tell me if i'm wrong."

you grab his shirt and pull him in to press your lips against his, bringing him into a surprising, but long kiss. his hands thread through your hair, lingering in the moment. when you break away, they slide from your hair to the sides of your neck, and he has the dumbest smile on his face. "definitely not wrong."

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littlemisshyperfixation · 1 year ago

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Yoongi Fic Recommendations Part 2

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 1

Series

Miss Dial (s) by @versigny ⊹₊⋆ [11:31] You: okay so i’m texting you now like I promised instead of drunktexting yoongi and telling him how badly i want his cock tonight. Arent you proud?

[11:32] unknown number: this is yoongi, hi

Please Be Naked (a f s) (ft. namjoon) by @floralseokjin ⊹₊⋆ Recently heartbroken, it feels like you’ll never be able to get over it. But a chance encounter with a guy you haven’t seen in months changes everything…

One Shots

want a taste? (f s) by @suga-kookiemonster ⊹₊⋆ pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. of course, you’re reasonably skeptical of his claims—but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong.

take care of you (f s) by @kookslastbutton ⊹₊⋆ To keep your fiance from burning out you suggest a weekend getaway to Gapyeong, a charming town about an hour outside Seoul. You've specifically asked him to leave his work equipment at home but like a deep rooted habit, he still brings it with him. You're left with no choice but to find a way to get his attention back.

You Broke Me (f) by @7ndipity ⊹₊⋆ Just clingy, fluffy Yoongi after Reader comes home after a month-long trip

Shy (s) by @7ndipity ⊹₊⋆ You’re desperately craving your boyfriend's attention, but are too shy to ask for it outright. Luckily, Yoongi knows what you want anyway.

Sweet Spot (s f) by @cultleaderyoongi ⊹₊⋆ Three months into dating, Yoongi ponders what the perfect scenario for a love confession would be. There's no manual stating when and where and how is appropriate. It's only convenient when his body reacts faster than his brain, doing the job for him.

Eargasm (s) by @lavishedinjimin ⊹₊⋆ The idea of having your first ever orgasm by talking to a hot, random stranger through your phone scares the living hell out of you, but maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.

F*ck Christmas (a f s) by @sailoryooons ⊹₊⋆ Making hating Christmas your entire personality was never the plan. Then again, it seems bad things only ever happen around Christmas - like discovering your fiancé cheating on you, forcing you to move back to your sleepy hometown. But Min Yoongi happens to love Christmas, and if there is one thing your very stubborn childhood crush is going to do, it’s try to reignite your Christmas spirit. Even if he has to force-feed it to you with gingerbread cookies and too-sweet eggnog.

Workaholic (s) by @hobiwonder ⊹₊⋆ Yoongi needs to relax and Hoseok has many tricks up his sleeve to make him. None of them Yoongi thought included hiring a hooker to pay him a visit one stormy night. You were only trying to escape a crazed man chasing you down on a stormy night. Never was your intention to end up in an attractive man’s house. Definitely not one who thought you were a hooker.

Backtrack (s) (ft. jimin) by @mapofthesea ⊹₊⋆ There’s no telling just how long you'd been stuck in the windowless studio, and you’re just about ready to walk out and forfeit your paycheck for the week, until your bosses strike up an interesting bargain.

the pink pill (s) by @dollfaceksj ⊹₊⋆ In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

all night (s) (ft. namjoon) by @axigailxo ⊹₊⋆ in which listening to music during a smoke sesh with your best friends namjoon and yoongi in the studio turns into much more

damn the charcuterie board. (s) (ft. jimin) by @bratkook

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caffeinatelove · 3 months ago

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࿐ ࿔:･ﾟdating reo and nagi you play soccer with your boyfriends!

𝐛𝐲𝐫: these are just headcanons! female reader, polyamory, intended lowercase, includes swearing, possible out of character / mischaracterisation, fluff, suggestive and sexual themes!

you didn’t know much about soccer.

which, in hindsight, was kind of funny seeing as the sport was a major factor in both your boyfriends' lives. if not, what their world primarily revolved around. of course, you understood the basics… you know you get a point when the ball goes in the net. you know 'offside' is apparently a thing people fight over like it’s life or death.

oh, and you know exactly when to turn the tv on to watch real madrid play. that one’s real important.

although, reo and nagi would probably disagree.

you remember softly padding into the living room one day, only to find them cuddled up watching tv together. the familiar cheering catches your attention, and your eyes sweep over what’s displayed on the screen.

"hey, this is madrid playing, right?"

"uh–yeah!" reo lights up, beyond surprised that you even knew the team’s name. it’s a good kind of surprised, though. and he immediately scoots over, patting the cushion beside him. "got it right. good job, princess."

"they’re versing those barça guys. should be intense." nagi quietly informs as you slide into the far end of the couch. you almost never watch games with them, let alone make the effort to engage, so they’re pretty thrilled to think you’re finally taking an interest in their world.

"sick! so… where’s jude bellingham?"

a moment of silence.

when you turn to face your boyfriends' they’re both sporting the same incredibly unimpressed look. and you swear that reo’s eyebrow twitched.

"so that’s what this is about." he mutters, feeling a tad bit betrayed, and it sounds like he’s speaking more to himself than anything.

"what? i just think he’s a good player." you sheepishly whistle, leaning forward to ogle the tv once said athlete finally comes on.

"he’s not even that good!" reo suddenly snaps, arms crossed over his chest, and it’s definitely not about soccer anymore.

"overrated." nagi huffs, reaching for the remote with way too much effort for someone who usually refuses to walk more than five steps unless bribed. "this is getting tiresome. let’s watch something else."

"i agree.” reo grumbles.

he changes the channel and some stupid cartoon animation starts playing. you blink, unable to believe their childish jealousy. "are you two serious?"

after that, you realise that your type must be immature men. you also make a mental note to never again disclose even the notion of having a celebrity crush around them. but the incident ultimately makes you realise that you probably could try a little harder to understand the sport they love.

so a few days later, you casually bring it up over breakfast. "would it be okay if i played soccer with you guys sometime?"

and just like that, your two boyfriends are choking on their orange juice. nagi slowly blinks like he misheard you, and reo’s staring like you just proposed. which, to be fair, you might as well have.

because the idea of you wanting to play soccer with them, of you wanting to be part of something they love so much? it makes their heart warm. to their knowledge you’ve never really played before, but that doesn’t matter, because they’re already jumping at the chance to say yes.

nagi nods his head curtly. "i’d be okay with that."

meanwhile, reo’s practically bouncing up and down, unable to contain his excitement. "of course we can play together! i’ll get you whatever you need. shin guards, a personal coach, hell, i’ll rent out the local park just so we can–"

"my backyard is fine." you quickly respond, grabbing onto his shoulders to stop him from freaking out any further.

he pauses, your touch grounding him. "you sure, princess?"

"yes! i don’t wanna pursue it or anything like that, i just know how much you two really enjoy it. so, why not? i wanna spend time doing something that you guys like." you quietly admit. and that response has them absolutely melting. it’s settled. cemented. you’re all going to play soccer together.

and so, the day eventually rolls around.

like promised, it’s nothing serious, just the three of you preparing to play a game of soccer in your oddly spacious backyard.

nagi’s half-asleep placing some cones down in vague formations, like he’s making it up as he goes. and reo’s struggling to get the portable goal net upright. when finally, you finish getting ready.

"we can start now!" you announce, stepping outside.

with your compression shirt hugging everything, a form fitting skirt to match that swayed with every step and the final kill shot; a pair of baby pink cleats that are so offensively cute, it’s truly a miracle the grass didn’t catch on fire beneath you.

both boys falter immediately upon noticing you. reo can feel his heart hammering in his ears. a noise that only intensifies once he catches sight of your bare thighs under the skirt. and then the adorable cleats just below them. oh god. a cone slips out of nagi’s grip by accident — like the muscles in his hand just went completely slack.

"okay, guys, i’m ready." you rest your hands on your hips.

that’s when the white haired boy suddenly tilts his head all the way back, staring up at the sky and directly into the sun as if trying to blind himself.

"um, treasure, what are you doing?" reo coughs into his hand, voice strained like he’s holding his self control together with nothing more than dental floss.

"just in case i get a nose bleed." nagi says flatly. "it’s a real hassle when it drips on your clothes, you know?"

"guys? is everything okay?" your voice cuts in, extremely oblivious to what’s causing their very weird demeanour.

reo opens his practically foaming mouth. closes it. tries again.

"it’s just, uh," he mutters, "you’re usually supposed to wear loose clothes when you, uh…"

your face flushes slightly in embarrassment, the slip up highlighting how little you know about the sport. "oh. should i change into something else then?"

"NO."

you’re flustered, sure, but also a little amused. they look like they’re about to spontaneously combust and you’ve barely said three sentences. was it really riling them up this much?

"so… i take it my clothes are okay?"

they both nod like zombies, looking a little bit glazed over.

you hum in determination, moving over to the ball and hesitantly kicking it forward, trying to get used to rolling it under your foot. "alright then, let’s start."

reo tugs at the collar of his jersey, letting out a half exasperated half strangled sound. "she’s trying to kill me."

"us." nagi corrects, finally looking back down at you, before immediately adverting his eyes again. "that outfit… hmph. she could’ve warned us beforehand."

after everyone calms down, you finally agree to start playing. and you realise that you’re actually a bit nervous. of course this was meant to be nothing more than a fun game with your partners, where they teach you as you go along, but they were essentially both pro players. who wouldn’t be a bit nervous?

but surprisingly, both your boyfriends' are so soft about it.

maybe you were just too accustomed to witnessing their ruthlessness while in blue lock, because you weren’t expecting it.

but nagi stays close to help your stance. he’ll lightly touch your waist while guiding you, the action sending unwarranted butterflies in your stomach. "other side." he’ll mumble, adjusting your foot with his. "there you go."

you’re definitely getting babied, but you don’t mind it. you actually enjoy how nagi whispers quiet words of encouragement. whereas reo, on the other hand, was acting like your own personal cheerleader, praising everything and anything you do like you’re some kind of prodigy. even though you’re the farthest one from it.

you kick the ball and miss?

he’s clapping.

you then attempt to chase after it and stumble a bit?

well, now he’s cheering. "that was so close! you’re a natural!"

you try to pass but it’s crooked and you somehow trip and plant yourself face first into the grass?

"ah shit–err, you’re doing so well, princess! keep it up!" he’s jumping up and down like you won the world cup.

to say they were being supportive would probably be an understatement. nagi was definitely more patient with you, calmly going through the steps of whatever you couldn’t really figure out. but since reo was able to mask his own restlessness with overcompensating compliments, none of it ended up being too much for you. both of them were a massive help throughout it all.

and the moment you actually start getting into it, oooh, they totally lose it.

you dribble a little. maybe chase the ball across the grass faster without tripping. the pleats in your tiny skirt flutter with every movement, and they’re both just watching with hearts in their eyes. because this is essentially their two favourite things in the whole wide world. together. actually, that might be subjective with nagi because he’d probably throw his iphone into that mix.

also they definitely fight at least once or twice or maybe even a couple times over who gets to show or teach you something.

"i said i was gonna show her that." "mmm. you were too slow."

anyways, perhaps by sheer luck, or possibly fate, you actually manage to kick the ball hard enough to send it sailing straight into the goal. there’s a pause due to your own shock. before you’re throwing your hands up in ecstasy, as the thrill of victory, although barely earned, rushes through you.

"goal!” you gush, jumping up and down in the spot and almost tripping over thin air with the action.

and your boyfriends' don’t even try to be chill about it. reo let’s out a dramatic whoop, running forward before lifting you in the air. nagi trails behind, with a lazy smile on his mouth and his arms already open for the inevitable group hug.

"you did it, y/n." reo commends, and you can tell by his tone that he wasn’t actually expecting you to do it.

"mhm. that was fun." nagi adds, looking genuinely impressed by your effort.

you exhale sharply. "wow, i sounded like isagi just now, didn’t i? he’s such a good player. i don’t understand how he does this everyday with other people."

another moment of silence. oh, there’s that eyebrow twitch from reo again. "we are standing right here."

"ah, yeah. you guys are good players too." you bashfully add, moving to pull them both into a hug again. it’s sweaty but filled with love.

"you wanna go back inside now and take a celebratory nap?" nagi asks, a hopeful note in his tone.

"nope, let’s continue playing!" you chirp, before pulling away to go and grab the ball. the two boys exchange a look.

you continue playing to your hearts content. until it almost starts to border sunset, and you’re way too exhausted to move even another bone in your body. you’re panting wildly, flushed body pressed against the grass as you try to desperately catch your breath. your boyfriends' are all but tranquil as they move next to you on the grass.

"how are you two not dying?" you grunt.

reo shrugs, leaning back on his palms and spreading his legs out. "we kind of do this everyday."

"okay, but, you’ve barely even broken a sweat! you guys are something inhuman."

he chuckles before fixing you with that familiar cocky smile. "just saving my stamina for later, sweet girl."

you scoff, but the implication makes your face flare up anyway. sometimes, you hated reo and his effortless charm.

nagi plops down next to you. except he slides a little lower than usual, casually tugging your legs across his torso like it’s a weighted blanket he wishes to die beneath. "you’re cute when you try." he mumbles, arms locked around your thighs.

you’re too exhausted to react to the mildly patronising tone in his comment. you just groan and continue to melt into the grass.

until they begin inching closer. of course.

reo’s fingers suddenly brush through your messily strewn hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear. "you’ve earned a reward, you know. learning how to play so well. scoring that one goal."

you let out a laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "you’re too much."

"you love it." he hums, already leaning in.

it barely gives you time to register the little soft kisses that nagi is pressing just above your knee. dragging his lips up your thigh. you can barely make out the faint sound of his mumbling. "bet you’re still warm from running." he rasps. "let me taste."

hearing that alone almost makes you malfunction. you didn’t even get the chance to get out of your practice clothes before they’re suddenly pinning you down on the grass, mouths and hands on a mission.

"guys, wait, i’m like, all sweaty. everywhere. this is not—hot."

"says who?" reo challenges, already kissing down your throat. he zeroes in on your pulse point, which is still thrumming from the adrenaline of playing. and now something else entirely.

"says me." you weakly retort, but it seems like they have no shame in their game.

nagi hums, still tracing his mouth alarmingly close to a certain area. "hm. but you did so good."

"we just want to celebrate our little mvp." reo adds with a chuckle, but you can tell he’s holding himself back. if the almost hungry look in his eyes is anything to go.

you scramble for a sliver of dignity. "can i at least take a shower first?"

"no.” nagi whines, fingers reaching for your skirt. "i don’t want you to take this off yet. you look too pretty in it.” he mumbles. "like, too much."

your face burns at the compliment. nagi is so soft spoken to the point where everything he says sounds innocent. even if it’s not. especially when it’s not. that’s what makes it so dangerous. you squirm. "but i’m gross–"

that’s when reo grabs your wrists to press you flush against the grass completely. the choppy leaves dig into your skin; a silent order to stop the wriggling.

the glint in his eyes is almost animalistic, and when he murmurs it’s a strained sound. like he’s been holding this in for hours. "you think we care about that?"

you blink, breath suddenly caught in your throat. what kind of horny demon managed to simultaneously possess the both of them? sure, you knew that exercise was an incubator for endorphins. you also knew that your boyfriends' loved to ambush you with a tag-team. but something about this was different. it had to be their desperation.

your scrutinising gaze flickers between them. "literally what has gotten into you freaks?"

and then reo leans in, deciding to mercifully tell you the truth. his mouth is right at your ear, but the words are just loud enough for nagi to hear, too.

"this whole day all i could think about was having your legs over my shoulders." he exhales shakily. "with the cleats still on."

your heart stutters. and your brain blanks. your thighs twitch without your permission.

even nagi let’s out a guttural sound at the mental image. and that’s when it clicks. that’s why they’re acting like this. they’re being so borderline feral because this is something that has really got them going. like, this outfit. and you, playing soccer, in general. the whole shebang.

your suspicions are confirmed when reo continues. "watching you run around in that tiny skirt has been driving me crazy, too." his forehead is pressed to yours now, barely containing himself. "please."

your face goes scarlet at the pure yearning in his tone. they wanted you this badly? suddenly your brain feels foggy. and your willpower is surely slipping away.

"she’s shaking." nagi comments. "cute."

you let out mortified laugh, finally accepting your fate with a heart that’s beating way too fast for reasons completely unrelated to physical activity.

"i hate you both." you mumble in resignation.

five minutes later you’re making noises that probably say otherwise.

#chapter 297 how are we doing nagireo nation #nagi seishiro x reader #blue lock x reader #mikage reo x reader #nagi x reader #reo x reader #reo x nagi x reader #reader x reo x nagi #nagi x reader x reo #bllk x reader #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock headcanons #fluff #anime #reader insert #bllk #headcanons #nagireo x reader

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saminsecret · 7 months ago

Text

How the slashers would react to a male s/o part 2

tw for homophobia/outdated views

Sorry it’s been like two three years I’ve been obsessed with Sam Winchester (still am) but i still love my slasher roots

Characters include Thomas Hewitt (TCM remake), Billy Loomis (Scream), and Yaujta (Predator)

Thomas Hewitt (TCM Remake):

He'd be confused and ashamed. Thomas was born in 1939, so most of his values are very homophobic christian-like. Not that he himself really understand homophobia, he was just raised that way. So when he found himself daydreaming thinking of you in a more romantic tone, he definitely felt a huge blow to his self-esteem. What would his family think? He'd become more reclusive and basically shut himself in the basement. He'd also definitely avoid you and his family.

Luda Mae would have to get involved. Now what did Thomas think was going to happen? Hell hath no fury like a concerned mother. "Tommy sweetheart, tell Momma what's wrong!" After some more pleading and guilt tripping, Thomas would be all but butter in Luda Mae's hand. He'd communicate to her about his feelings towards the cute boy (you) down at the gas station, all while looking like a kicked puppy. Luda Mae would feel very mixed emotions. On one hand, Thomas likes someone!! On the other hand, that someone is you...a man. She'd be very conflicted, to say the least.

Luda Mae would set you two up. After thinking about it, Luda Mae puts Thomas' happiness over any bigoted beliefs she has. She loves Thomas too much to stop him from finding someone. She would console Tommy and let him dwell in the basement while she tries to think up a plan on how to push you and Thomas together. Cue her not-so-subtly asking you some suspicious innocent questions while you stock the gas station. "Oh Y/N, how tall do ya' like your man to be? You like men, right? Oh darlin', I won't judge your homosexualness! What about men with long hair? What about-" After some mildly offensive and invasive questions she finally decides you two are a match! She invites you to stay at the Hewitt residence for a little while and finds little things to keep you closer to him. Taking his tray downstairs, helping him with heavy lifting, just harmless things that you guys can bond over. Thomas of course is both extremely delighted and extremely embarrassed. He frequently drops things on himself or is falling over his feet, embarrassing him even more. Poor Tommy! But eventually...

He can't stop being around you! He loves you so much Y/N! He can't stop thinking of you; he's just so smitten! When he has a break, he likes to hold hands or cuddle while you read to him! And don't worry about Hoyt or Monty, they can kiss Thomas' ass! (Or his chainsaw/Luda Mae's various kitchen cutlery, if they go too far). Expect small gifts like crushed flowers or little bits of jewelries he found on some of the victims. He also loves it when you wear his clothes, although he is a big boy compared to anybody so you might not fit into everything. If your strong enough, he'll let you hold his chainsaw :D

Billy Loomis (Scream):

He'd have mixed feelings. Billy (as well as Stu) were probably closeted bisexual's. Billy would be more self-depricating with his sexuality because of his father and the general time period.

He’d bully you. How else is he supposed to deal with his homoerotic feelings towards you? Walking down the hallway you’ll hear a snide remark from Billy (and Stu) about how ‘gay’ you are— what a bunch of dicks!

But eventually… he’d have to have you. He’s obsessed with you, and now that Sidney’s dead he can turn you into his new obsession. He follows you to your classes, teasing you and ‘accidentally’ bumping into you to make you trip. Don’t worry Y/N, it’s not like it can get any worse.

Except now he’s at your window. Tapping on the glass, beckoning for you to let him in. He wants to apologize for all the teasing! Well, at least that’s what he says, but the moment you open the window he pounces on you, knife to your throat. He’s demanding you be his boyfriend! Well…

Now you watch horror movies every night with Billy and Stu. Billy always has an arm wrapped around you, and about a million polaroids stashed away of you sleeping. Enjoy your stalker boyfriend, Y/N!

Male Yautja (Predator):

"I do not care about 'ooman gender, my ooman." Seriously though, you two are completely different species already so it really doesn't matter that you're a guy. You will undoubtably be hated on by other Yautja, but not because you are a male mated to another male but for being a human mated to a Yautja.

He doesn't care about procreation, if that's what you're worried about. Humans and Yautja cannot create offspring, so he knew from the get-go of mating with you that kids would be out of the picture. So being a male doesn't really hinder him. He also doesn't care about whatever concerns the other Yautja have to say about your relationship, he'll fight to the death for you. And god forbid if a human tried to discriminate against you. Hey Y/N, how do you feel about human skulls as décor?

He'd make you more confident. Y/N, you have done the impossible ; courting a Yautja! This should be an immediate confidence booster as your mate has chosen to be with you, a human, rather than further his own species! How'd you do it Y/N?

He'd decorate your house with trophies. Invest in alot of shelves. Yautja live for the Hunt, so expect nothing less from your mate. He'd bring home a variety of trophies ranging from earth animals to things you're sure no human has ever seen before. Your mate is a worthy male, Y/N, and he makes sure to show you through all his various feats! And because you are his mate, he declares that all hunts are dedicated to you. How sweet!

#slashers #slashers x reader #slasher x male reader #slasher fucker #billy loomis #thomas hewitt #yautja #predator #scream #texas chainsaw massacre #billy loomis x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #yaujta x reader #predator x reader #slasher x reader

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binniesbooks · 10 months ago

Text

• MIRROR, MIRROR ON THE WALL

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 3.2k

pairings classrepresentative!Soobin x bulliedfem!reader

warnings humiliation, slight bully Soobin, bullied reader, fainting, facial, unprotected sex, creampie, mirror sex, recording, oral sex (m. receiving), squirting, name calling (+ if i missed anything)

faye's notes I'M TOTALLY CRAZY! Like seriously! I should stop writing fics out of impulse BAHAHAHAHA this is not proofread, I'm sorry, again, this story is just made impulsively 😭 Soobin should stop posting pictures out of nowhere. I need to write about him immediately because I'm his wife. 😋 No one should do it first before me 😋 I just love Soobin so much and his mirror shots! Fuck. Dead.

p.s. wrote this for more or less 4 hours, wtf

"Ahh! Fuck, why are you so f-fucking good!" Soobin threw his head back with one arm supporting his body and the other one holding his phone, trying to capture every moment.

"Look at you acting so modest at school, but here you are, giving someone head," he smirked, tugging a fistful of your hair, making you moan with his cock still inside your mouth.

"Shit!" He hissed through his teeth as he felt the pleasuring vibrations from your mouth.

Soobin is your most hated person in the world, if that's enough to explain. He makes fun of you. He causes you trouble, harm, and danger. But the fact that he's one of the most respected representatives of your class, you can't do anything but let your anger just boil inside you.

Choi Soobin is not your average type of classmate—enemy. He never fails to be included in the rank list—he's an intelligent and handsome man. He talks so well in front of the class, he gets high scores, he has the fame. You would actually have a crush on him if only he treated you the same way he treats the others.

And you hated your class for always laughing along with him and always tolerating what he does—well, he's actually a good student, you're just not on his "people that I will treat right" list.

"How are you miss 'teacher's pet'?" Soobin would subtly pull a chair to sit in front of your desk, often whispering these things.

"Soobin, please. If you have nothing else to say, move," you would firmly answer him.

"What? Aren't you proud that you know how to find your way under their pants?" he accused.

"I'm not doing any of the sort! I won't commit sexual activities with people other than my soon-to-be husband!" Your voice came out as a squeak as you tried to hold yourself back, but you're seething with anger.

"Oh, what are you doing anyway? Drawing your idols?" he snickers.

"Choi Soobin--"

"Yes, darling?" his eyes meeting yours with a smirk plastered on his lips. "You know what," he starts, casually tucking your straying hair behind your ear, "If I were you, I would stop doing that, they don't even know you."

You clicked your tongue, swatting his hand away, "Soobin, I swear—"

"Yes, yes, you swear," he snickers once again as he stands up, the sharp scraping sound of the steel chair making your ears hurt, gathering the class' attention. Soobin casually shrugged his shoulders, making your classmates continue what they were doing.

"Listen!" Soobin pounded the podium that afternoon for an announcement—oh yeah, he's the class representative.

"We will be having our annual outdoor activity next week."

With a heavy heart, you sighed. The 5-day trip is your most hated activity. You would go to a camp, pair up with your friends, and do the task together. Not to mention the unending seminars and trainings while you're at it.

Of course, a week won't pass by without Soobin getting into your nerves. You're so fed up with him and his petty attitude towards you, but you don't know it yourself, you just can't find the courage to fight back or at least stand up for yourself. You would always be left with your nails digging into your palms and a boiling blood.

"Okay guys! Line up! We're getting into the bus! I'm checking the attendance!" It's still so early in the morning and you get to hear his irritating voice again, which you resorted to wearing earphones to at least drown his voice.

However, you were the last one to get in inside the bus, so there are no more available seats to sit down aside from the two-seater in the front. And of course, one of the seats is already occupied. By who? Who else—the Choi Soobin himself.

"Excuse me, does anyone want to trade seats?" you bargained. Only for them to answer with "sorry, I want to sit with my friend" and such.

"As much as you don't want to sit beside me, I don't want to sit beside a whore and a slut like you," Soobin whispered with a fake smile when you sat beside him.

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not a whore nor a slut, I don't do explicit activities just like you," you seethed. "I bet you're the type that fucks anyone just to get your dick wet," you whispered, rolling your eyes. Soobin could only laugh at you.

You tried to focus on the road the whole ride. Doing your best to ignore Soobin's huge sleeping figure just beside you. Your eyes flitted to the rearview mirror of the bus, staring a hole at Soobin's head—to kill him—through the reflection. And yes, Soobin actually looks kind and peaceful when he sleeps. There, you silently wished for him to at least be a little less meaner.

You didn't know you fell asleep. You woke up inside the empty bus. You quickly marched out to look for your classmates. It looks like they are just starting to settle down. You scrambled your way towards the camp, pulling your suitcase. You're lucky one of your male classmates noticed you and had at least the decency to offer a hand.

When you arrived just by the door, you swear you heard Soobin murmur something behind you like 'look at our pick me girl' or something along the lines.

After the short orientation, you celebrated a little inside, knowing that the girls and the boys would not share the same room to sleep, at least. And you celebrated further when they announced that the ratio of the room to the student would be 1:1. Basically, you have the privacy you needed, and you don't need to be bothered about having a roommate.

You were asked to rest for now and just return to the hall in the afternoon to officially start the program. You giggled when you got inside the room. Quickly running to the bedroom and jumping on the bed.

But then you were startled when you heard laughter and loud voices.

Oh crap! The walls are thin!

But that's the least of your concerns; it's not like you would be noisy or something.

The afternoon came quickly, and the program kicked off without flaws. They announced the activities that should be done and the schedule for the meals, including the curfew hours. If you were to be asked? Your answer would be, so far, so good.

The dinner was also held in the same hall. The organizers did a good job of making use of the tables and chairs in the hall as your dining table and training table.

However, your little happy moment was immediately cut off when Soobin purposely grazed one of the students elbows, making the cold water she was holding be poured over you. Loud gasps from the crowd echoed inside the hall as strings of apology came out of the student's mouth. Your eyes flickered throughout the wide space as you muttered, "It's okay," to the student. Your eyes found Soobin walking away from the scene.

You quickly finished your meal after patting your drenched shirt with a tissue the student offered. After finishing your meal, you have no other choice but to go straight to your room.

You prayed that tomorrow would be a fine day for you.

Tuesday. Second day of the outdoor activity.

You were grouped into pairs. The organizers taught you about first aid. Orienting you about the things you should and shouldn't do in case of emergency. You and your partner executed every step well. It does show that you have learned everything.

Soobin also did well in their execution. But you noticed about his 'unnecessary' touches to his girl partner. Well, he actually isn't doing anything unnecessary. You're just too overprotective of your body.

Soobin watched you being mortified with his simple quirks, laughing to himself, judging you and your mind.

Wednesday.

You were grouped into five members. Your next activity was the obstacle course. The sole reason for this is to train your mind to think quickly for a technique that would work and allow you to lead.

Some of the groups even failed from the start. They couldn't decide which would be the leader.

On the other hand, Soobin was leading his group at ease. He looks like he knows it, just like the back of his hand. Too familiar with what a leader should do.

Thursday.

It suddenly rained, so your activity that was supposed to be held on the mountain was postponed and was moved for the next day. Which made your stay eventually longer for another day. The organizers resorted to an indoor activity. Or you could actually call this free time. They allowed everyone to have fun. Everyone was having a blast on their own or with their friends.

You decided to take a short walk while the rain poured hard. You passed by a vending machine and grabbed yourself a drink—which might be wrong because you're too far from the hall now and there's no restroom to be found.

Your eyes widened when you saw a room, which you guessed was a toilet. But when you opened the door, someone was inside.

"What the fuck?! Don't you know how to knock?!"

"Aaahhhh! Don't you know how to lock?!" you retorted as you froze in your feet and turned your back to the person inside the toiled.

"Fucking goodness! What the hell are you doing here?!" he zipped his pants up before he turned to you—again, it was Soobin.

"I-i'm looking for a restroom! You should know how to lock the door!" You squealed.

You heard him scoffed, "The lock doesn't work, and..."

"And?" you questioned, folding your arms in front of you, feigning frustration—but you couldn't hide the fact that your ears were so red.

"This restroom is not for the girls, weirdo." His lips played a mocking smile. "You're not beating the whore allegations, are you?" He stepped forward, trapping you on the wall, his hand flew to your waist, pinning you.

You tried to push him away, "Get your filthy hands off—H-hah!"

Your body trembled, and your knees became wobbly when he pressed his hand against your lower abdomen.

"S-soobin... Your... Your hand..." You tried to pry his hand away, but to no avail. Soobin just pressed it further, making the hair of your body stand up.

"S-soobin... Please... Y-your h-hand," you stuttered. You felt a few drops of the hot liquid flow out from you.

Soobin pulled his hand away, leaving you slumped on the floor, shaking. "You're so easy," he chuckled before he left.

You didn't almost make it to the toilet. The moment you let it out, you felt tears run down your cheeks. Maybe because of humiliation, or anger, or arou—there's no way!

That night, you chose not to eat dinner, you stayed inside your room. However, someone knocked on your door. You didn't want to open it at first, but the person behind kept on knocking. When you opened the door, there's no person in the hallway. But a food was left beside your door. Your name was written on the water bottle and the packaging of the meal, just like the other meals you ate the past few days. You decided to eat it, not bothering to think whether it's poisoned or whatever.

Friday. The supposed to be last day of the outdoor activity.

It was a team activity again. The survival. Your team must survive for at least one day in the mountains. You were supposed to look for foods in the wild, to survive a day or night in the mountains. The team is composed of four members. And lucky you, you were teamed up with Soobin.

You tried your best to be as distant as possible. Just looking at him makes you remember everything that happened last night.

Everything was going well from the start. Three of you were girls, and you all agreed that Soobin would be the leader of the group.

You made a small port for the four of you to rest, you found fruits that can be eaten, and you gathered the woods for the fire you were supposed to make later.

However, Soobin wasn't expecting something like this to happen—for you to faint out of exhaustion. You are actually weak-hearted, which makes you easily dizzy and tired when doing extra workloads.

"Soobin! Y/n fainted!"

"What?!" Soobin quickly ran towards the three of you. The other girls are panicking about you. "Fuck!" he muttered as he tried to wake you up. "Y/n wake up!"

"This won't do! You guys continue our task; I'll bring her to the camp. Please take care of yourselves up here, okay?"

Soobin carried you on his back, walking and running down the mountain as fast as he could. He was assisted by the organizers, but the program wasn't perfect at all! There are no nurses around.

So Soobin got no choice but to bring you to his assigned room and take care of you instead—class representative duties, right?

"God fucking damn it!" he huffed as he laid you down on the floor, and he was chasing his breath.

He washed himself first, cleaning out the dirt that clung to his body. Then he grabbed some of his extra clean shirts for you to change into. He wiped you clean with a wet towel and wanted to change your clothes, but he decided not to do it or you would make a fuss. Then he carefully laid you down on his bed, keeping you warm.

One of the teachers knocked and checked on him. He was also told that the activity was cancelled and they made the students go back. The teacher was relieved to know that you were fine and that you're resting.

You woke up with him sitting beside you. "W-where are we? What happened?" you weakly asked.

"You're finally awake," he sighed. "You fainted."

He then passed you a packet of sugar and some water. "Drink this, I have nothing else to offer."

After a few minutes, you felt yourself recover a bit. It wasn't that bad, you're just too exhausted.

"Let's go back," you said as you rose from the bed and walked towards the door.

"Look at this attention seeker," he scoffed.

"What the fuck are you saying again?! I just fainted!" you yelled back.

"That's right! You just fainted, and you want to go back in the mountains? For what? For our classmates to carry you and let them touch your body? Or for the teachers to give you extra credits for being a 'good girl'?" Soobin's brow furrowed as he raised his voice.

"What did you say?" You walked closer to him.

"That you're a slut, a whore, and an attention seeker. Simple as that."

Soobin smirked as he watched you dug your nails onto your palm again.

"What? Am I wrong?"

Tears were threatening to fall from your eyes as you looked up to him with gritted teeth.

"You're... You're totally wrong..." you sniffled.

"Then show me you aren't like that," he says.

"W-what?"

Soobin sat on the bed as he watched you. "Get on your knees for me," he smirked. "Show me you are not a teacher's fuck toy."

"Prove it, so I won't tell the class you soiled your pants last night," he finishes.

You didn't know what came over you. You just found yourself kneeled down between his legs as you tried your hardest to suck him.

Ahh! Fuck, why are you so f-fucking good!" Soobin threw his head back with one arm supporting his body and the other one holding his phone, trying to capture every moment.

"Look at you acting so modest at school, but here you are, giving someone head," he smirked, tugging a fistful of your hair, making you moan with his cock still inside your mouth.

"Shit!" He hissed through his teeth as he felt the pleasuring vibrations from your mouth.

You pulled away. "S-stop recording," you muttered.

"No, this is for the records. A proof that you aren't a teacher's pet," he grinned before guiding your head back to his cock.

"You're such a whore," he snickers as he zooms in to your face. "Fucking good, with this pretty face," he muttered.

He shoved your face down, practically fucking your throat, not giving a fuck at how you gagged. Then he pulled you away as he shot his cum on your face.

"Ohh fuck! Fuck! Ahh!" His body trembled as he finally came, his phone shaking in the process.

Pressing the stop button, he tossed his phone on the bed and pulled you up on his lap, crashing his lips against yours as his hand wandered on your body, groping and squeezing any part.

"Need to be inside you, you slut," he whispered between the kisses.

"'m n-not," you whimpered. His hand finally settled on your waist, and he grinds you above him.

"Look how hard you make me," he said, his teeth grazing your neck.

"S-soobin... Stop... W-we shouldn't be doing—ahh...mpph.." Your soft moans and whines are music to his ear.

"Shhh, be quiet for me, okay?" he said, giving your chin a kiss. He slips his hand under your skirt, pushing your underwear to the side.

"See? You're a total whore, y/n. You're wet."

Too embarrassed, you hide on his neck, hugging him closer. He easily lifted your hips and slid himself inside you with so much ease as you whimpered on his ear.

"T-this is w-wrong.. Ahh.. please..."

"Wrong?" he questioned, tilting your face to look behind you, only to be met with your own eyes. Soobin manhandled you with ease and turned you around instead. Your back flushed against his chest as he spread and held your legs up.

"Watch how your hungry pussy suck my cock," he whispered to your ear as the both of you watched yourselves in the mirror. Your ears turned red out of embarrassment as you bit your lower lip, restraining yourself to moan.

"Be quiet, okay? The others are back," he said, kissing your ear. Your hands clasped over your mouth, the squelching sound was the only thing to be heard.

"I love how dirty you are, fuck, you turn me on so much," he grunts, hitting deeper places inside you.

"B-bin..." you whined, tears rolling down your cheek.

"S-something's g-gonna.... Ahhh... S-soobin, please..."

"You're close, doll? Cum on my cock, then," he smirks.

"N-no wait! Wait!" you squirmed, trying to get off of him, but he's too strong for you.

"S-soobin please w-wait---" Clear liquid gushed out of your pussy in a squirting manner because of his cock still deep inside you. Your body started twitching when he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

"Gonna fill you. 'M gonna fill you to the brim, fuck you're so fucking tight!" Soobin hides behind your neck as he finishes inside you, his grip on your thighs tightened.

"B-bin... I feel like... 'm gonna... F-faint..." Your body was slumped on his chest. He slowly pulls out of you, a glob of his cum coming out from your spent folds. He then laid you down on his bed again and lays beside you as he tucked the both of you to bed.

The problem for tomorrow is for tomorrow. He's now on cloud nine, feeling so good as he lays beside his favorite girl crush.

@binniesbooks 2024

#faye's library #soobin's books #soobin x reader #soobin x you #soobin smut #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin x you #choi soobin smut #soobin imagines #soobin scenarios #choi soobin scenarios #choi soobin imagines #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt imagines #txt scenarios

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 2 months ago

Text

Blood singer, part 3

Summary: Hiding from the storm, Jasper is tested as he finds himself close to Y/N for much longer than he had hoped.

Warnings (be mindful of your triggers): injury, blood and death, angst, fluff, grief, swearing, sexual content, mentions of mental health struggles, alcohol, detailed descriptions including physical harm

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (blood singer), Paul Lahote x human!reader

Word count: 10.1k

Blood singer - Series Masterlist

Teeth chattering, Y/N clings to Jasper, even though his skin is just as cold as hers, if not colder. It's counterproductive. She knows that, but her body refuses to let go. Logic says she should pull away, give him space and stop abusing his kindness, but his touch feels like salvation.

There’s no fire in his hands, only ice. Yet somehow, it burns. It seeps deep into her bones, awakening a part of her soul she long set to rest. All her life, she craved warmth, Paul’s warmth. That human, familiar kind. But this? This icy flame Jasper lights in her makes her feel more alive than any heat ever could.

And God, the way he smiles at her.

Her heart skips a beat every time his lips curl just slightly, just enough to incite the feeble muscle on a course of pure insanity. His voice alone seems to unravel her nerves, twisting her up and settling her all at once, disturbing the rhythm of her pulse. Even now, with his jaw tight and posture stiff, like he's trying to hold himself back from something, he looks at her like she’s the only thing anchoring him.

As he walks inside the cabin, she inhales deeply. To her dismay, she knows he needs to put her down. He can't carry her forever.

So she taps his shoulder lightly. “You can let me go now,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry,” Jasper murmurs, his voice smooth but a little too strained, like it takes effort to speak. He lowers her carefully onto the couch, his movements overly cautious, as if touching her too long might break his control.

She shakes her head, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I’m not.”

He licks his lips, clearly flustered, and then offers her one more of those slow, devastating smiles that could stop the world from spinning. It damn near stops her heart and she has to physically restrain herself from squealing like a teenager with a crush. This can’t be healthy. She doesn’t even know him. Not really.

But he makes her feel… light.

Like the darkness inside her, all the anxiety, the pain, the pressure was never even there. She doesn’t understand it, but something in her soul recognizes him. She feels safe with him. Maybe a little too safe.

“I should set up the fireplace,” Jasper says, finally breaking the moment, “Warm up the place.” He nods toward the hallway behind him. “You’ll find some dry clothes in the bedroom. Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” she says, standing with a wobble. She’s soaked to the bone and freezing, and any clothing that’s not clinging to her like a second skin will be a step up.

The bedroom is warm, bathed in honey-colored light from a small lamp in the corner. The bed is centered beneath a large, tinted window, and a closet stands tall beside it. It’s simple. Rustic. Comforting. She wonders if this is his room, if he chose this color palette, if amber is his favorite shade.

Bracing for some vintage cowboy fashion, she opens the closet, only to freeze.

Dozens of dresses greet her. Not jeans. Not flannel. Not even a dusty old hat. Just designer dresses; sleek, expensive, feminine. Her jaw drops.

“What the actual fuck…” she whispers, flipping through them. Labels that most people would kill for. Some are still tagged. Others look barely worn. A chill races down her spine, this time not from the cold.

Why the hell does Jasper have a wardrobe full of high-end women’s clothing?

Her heart rate spikes.

Did he break into this place? Was he following her? Did he plan this? Is she in a damn Lifetime movie?

The thoughts spiral faster than her heart can keep up. She doesn’t even know where they are. What if he brought her here on purpose? What if…

“You alright, darlin’?”

She gasps, whipping around so fast her wet hair slaps her neck. Jasper’s leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, that unreadable look on his face. He seems calm, but his eyes…they’re a little too sharp. A little too dark…Where has the golden gone?

Still, the way his presence makes her nerves soothe is suspicious. She recognizes it now. It’s as if he is doing something. Jasper’s presence feels like a weighted blanket, steadying her breathing, grounding her thoughts. She swallows hard.

“Be honest,” she says. “You’re not, like…a criminal or something, are you?”

His brow arches, and he lets out a soft, breathless chuckle. “What? Why would you think that?”

“I mean, look.” She gestures wildly toward the closet. “You have, like, a dozen high-fashion dresses in here. Unless you’re secretly married or have a very niche hobby, this looks like a setup. Like… a really weird hostage situation.”

Amusement sparks in his darkened eyes. “It’s my brother’s cabin,” he says with a lazy shrug. “His wife’s real into fashion. Leaves her stuff here.”

She stares at him, wishing the ground would just swallow her whole. But Jasper only grins wider, clearly enjoying this far too much. If he thinks she’s amusing now, he should see her with her claws out. Might erase that confident smirk right off his face.

“But if you’re into roleplay,” he adds, voice low and teasing, “I won’t put up a fight.”

She snorts, folding her arms across her chest as she leans against the closet. “Might take you up on that, Cowboy.”

His grin turns lopsided, lazy and cocky, but his eyes stay locked on hers, darker now, like storm clouds just before a downpour. The warmth that spreads through her is instant, crawling beneath her damp skin, finding a home low in her belly. He doesn’t even have to touch her to ignite something. The way he looks at her is dangerous. Addictive. Trouble with a capital T. Girls probably fall for him in seconds. But Y/N? She’s far too proud to admit she desires him openly, resorting to teasing. Her specialty isn’t the fire most are drawn to, it’s ice. Cold, calculating, distant when she needs to be.

And yet…

There’s something in his stillness that mirrors hers. Something cool. Controlled. Until it’s not.

She shifts slightly, and Jasper’s eyes dip, just for a second. She doesn’t miss it. Neither does he. Her shirt is soaked clean through, clinging to her skin in all the worst ways. The thin fabric does nothing to hide the curve of her breasts or the black, lacy bra covering them. She knows she should be embarrassed.

She’s not.

Not when Jasper’s shirt is just as wet. Just as translucent. She can see every line of his chest, the way it narrows down to his waist, the sharp dip of his collarbones and the delicious happy trail. And damn him, he knows it. Knows exactly what kind of effect he’s having on her.

“You know,” she drawls, voice silky, “I was going to change out of these clothes. But… With you standing there, giving me a nice view, it feels a little unfair not to return the favor for a moment or two longer.”

Jasper’s brow lifts slightly, a slow smirk tugging at the corner his mouth. “You think I haven’t noticed, darlin’? Been tryin’ not to stare like a gentleman.”

“Failing miserably,” she murmurs, stepping toward him, a single step, measured. Testing.

Jasper’s throat bobs as he swallows. His hands curl into fists at his sides, his jaw ticking, but he doesn’t move back. Doesn’t breathe. And she feels it, his presence wrapping around her, trying to still her racing heart. Trying to calm her, like she’s some wild creature that might bolt if he makes a wrong move. How does he do that?

One thing is certain. She’s not running. Not tonight.

She takes another step, now close enough to reach out. And she does, just lightly brushing the soaked fabric over his chest with the back of her fingers. His shirt clings like a second skin, and he tenses beneath her touch, muscles rippling beneath her fingertips. Still, he lets her, almost as if he’s been waiting for her to make a move.

“You’re freezing,” she murmurs. She doesn’t mention his hard muscles. She’s never touched someone like that, ripped to the point of feeling like marble.

His voice comes out rougher than it was a moment ago. “So are you.”

“So warm me up.”

His gaze sharpens like a blade. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She meets his gaze head on, daring him. “Maybe I do.”

That breaks some of his resolve. Not all the way, but enough.

Jasper closes the distance between them with terrifying, graceful ease, pressing her into the closet door. One of his hands lifts, fingers grazing the curve of her jaw, trailing just beneath her ear. It’s such a gentle touch, but the way her body shivers under his fingertips drives him insane.

“You’re playin’ with fire,” he says, voice low, the southern drawl thicker now. Rougher. It drips with warning. Hunger. “And fire melts ice, sweetheart.”

Y/N smirks, heart beating far too fast. She’s not letting him believe he’s winning though. “I thought you were cold.”

He lets out a soft, humorless chuckle, but his eyes stay locked on hers, black with no gold in sight, wild, and aching. “I am. That’s the problem.”

Did he…Did he imply he’s she’s the fire melting him? Good, she thinks. I’m winning. And if she must become a flame to get this man to surrender, she will let the fire reign.

His thumb brushes over her bottom lip, featherlight, but it leaves her dizzy. She should move. She should think. But all her body wants is more.

Jasper leans in just slightly, like gravity’s pulling him closer against his will. She can feel the tension in him, how tightly wound he is, how hard he’s working to stay in control. He wants her. That much is obvious. But it’s not just want. It’s something deeper. Something almost dangerous.

And she’s loving every second of it.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over her lips.

Her lips part, but no sound comes. Her heart thunders, her skin tingles, and every inch of her screams for more. Her voice, when it finally emerges, is soft and certain.

“I’m not that nice.”

Jasper closes his eyes for a moment, just one, and when they open again, there’s a war inside them. Then, with a breath that sounds almost like a growl, he steps back. Just far enough to put space between them, yet close enough for her to still feel him.

“Get changed,” he says, voice strained. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

Y/N bites back a smile, the heat in her chest flaring. “You regret things easily?”

His eyes drag over her one more time, lingering like a promise. “Only if I mess ‘em up.”

“If you don’t want to touch, it’s fine by me.” She lets the words hang, tilting her head slightly as a devilish smirk appears on her lips. “But you’re free to look if you want to stay for the show?”

His eyes darken, not with lust, exactly, but something more primal. His eyes meet hers. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Doesn’t blink.

Her heart skips three beats and then pounds back with a vengeance. The room is quiet. Too quiet. She swallows hard, and the blush creeping up her neck gives her away. Jasper notices. His stern expression softens into something tender, almost…shy.

“Don’t tempt me, darlin’,” he says, voice is low. “I’ll leave you to it,” he murmurs, offering a small nod.

And with that, he turns, disappearing down the hall, leaving her to catch her breath and pretend like her knees aren’t shaking. She finally lets out the breath she’s been holding and her lungs feel like they just ran a marathon. She plants her hands on her knees, trying to steady herself.

Jasper is going to be the death of her. And for once…she doesn’t mind the idea. She’s rarely ever pursued men like this. It’s as if the mere thought of him is bringing her to the brink of madness. Whatever it may be, Jasper is different. Something isn’t quite right about him or the way his presence causes her to act and yet she finds no regrets about any of it.

She was wrong about Paul. She might be wrong about Jasper. To hell with consequences! Her heart’s broken anyway. It may fracture to the point of no return…or it may heal. Feeling this drawn to someone is rare. Of course, it could be caused by her near death experience and yet she doesn’t care. She’ll discover it along the way and the way might be leading her straight to hell, but at least she’ll make sure she enjoys the ride.

The closet is full of surprises. She pushes hangers aside until her fingers brush against silk. Her eyes catch the shimmer of crimson, a deep, blood-red nightgown tucked in the far back. It’s soft, almost liquid to the touch, sliding like water through her fingers. When she pulls it out, her brows lift in surprise. It’s... simple. Elegant. A little sexy without trying to be. The kind of fabric that kisses the skin when you move. It falls to mid-thigh, the top a delicate web of lace that dips low, supported by slim, almost invisible straps. No sleeves. No bra. No armor.

She hesitates, her heart doing that annoying flutter thing again.

She slips it on anyway. Over it, she finds a matching robe, same rich crimson, edged in subtle lace, loose enough to keep things comfortable but tied snugly around her waist. The cool silk caresses her skin and clings in places it probably shouldn’t.

Her reflection in the small mirror over the dresser stops her. For a second, she doesn’t recognize herself. She looks like she’s about to seduce a man instead of relax by the fireplace until the storm ends.

With a sigh that’s half exasperation and half laughter, she gathers her hair up into a messy bun, strands falling loose around her ears. The motion exposes her neck, pale and vulnerable. She considers letting her hair back down but... no. She likes the honesty of this. It feels brave in a quiet way. She washes her face, the last remnants of her make up. She’s bare now, entirely vulnerable to his gaze.

Then she pauses.

This is insane.

You’re acting like a damn cat in heat, she scolds herself silently, adjusting the robe’s tie. Her fingers linger at her waist, and she forces herself to breathe.

This isn’t about sex. Not this time. She’s learned her lesson with Paul, burned herself on the promise of something hot and fast that turned to smoke in her hands. That’s not what she wants from Jasper. She wants to know him slowly. Carefully. Until she’s learned every corner of his soul. And if he lets her... she might just show him every hidden part of hers too.

Composing herself, she pads back into the hallway, bare feet silent on the wooden floor.

The small living room glows softly, bathed in the gold orange flicker of firelight, and a night-lamp by the doorway. The flames dance lazily in the hearth, casting long shadows that stretch across the walls.

And there he is.

Jasper sits low in a chair just in front of the fireplace, his back to her, the light tracing the silhouette of his broad shoulders and long frame. His legs stretch out in front of him, relaxed, and his posture is looser now. He’s not stiff like before. But there’s still that… tension. Always with him.

She holds her breath as she studies him.

His hair is drying, slightly wavy, reaching his shoulders. That golden honey tone gleams darker in the firelight, tousled and imperfect in the most perfect way. His skin glows pale and smooth, almost too flawless. And his jaw… it’s sharp with a quiet restraint, like he’s sculpted from stone. But it’s his lips that hold her hostage, pressed together, unreadable, in control. She wonders what they’d feel like if he ever let go of all that restraint. Jasper is beautiful in a way most men aren’t. Not pretty. Not handsome. Beautiful. Angelic. A creature from a painting brought to life.

She smiles softly, involuntarily, as memory flickers to life.

She has seen him before.

Just once or twice. Passing glances in Forks, back when she visited her grandmother at the hospital. Her grandmother had raved about Dr. Cullen, how kind and polite he was and of his well behaved children she wanted to set her up with. She talked about their unusual beauty and more than once, she mentioned the “quiet southern one” with the saddest eyes that seemed to be in perpetual pain. Y/N always thought she was imagining things. Now… now she knows she wasn’t.

The wedding of Bella Swan with Edward Cullen. That was the last time.

Her grandmother had been invited but passed before she could go. Y/N brought the gift in her place. Just an awkward drop-off. But the Cullens had all been there. She remembers the short girl beside Jasper. The way he looked at her back then, fond, maybe even in love. Everyone said they were adopted into the family. He went by Hale, if she remembers correctly.

And then she left.

Now, here he is, sitting in front of her like a beautiful ghost. She can’t help but wonder if his restrain is due to his feelings for the adopted sibling he was with. If rumors were true, they were together back then. Are they still? Or was the pain in his eyes born from heartbreak she caused?

“I can feel you starin’, sweetheart.” His voice rumbles through the quiet like a secret. He doesn’t even turn around.

Her lips curl. She bites her lower lip to hide her smile. “I think I prefer darling.”

He turns his head, just slightly. Enough to catch her in his peripheral. She sees the edge of a grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll make sure to remember that,” he says.

His eyes glance down, flicker, just for a moment, over the length of her, then back to her face. But that one look is enough. She can’t stop the blood rushing to her face, and she’s done hiding the blush it brings.

She walks closer, slowly, barefoot steps padded and quiet. But he hears her anyway. Probably knew where she was before she moved. There is something between them, something wordless she can’t quite explain. Not quite desire. Not yet. But the possibility of it.

She sinks onto the couch across from him, crossing her legs casually.

“Nice fire,” she says lightly.

His gaze lingers on her face. “You’re not cold anymore.”

“No,” she says softly. “Not at all.”

The silence between them is comfortable but weighted. The only sound is the crackling fire, its warmth only fueling the tension growing between them. Neither of them speaks. Neither of them moves much. She watches the flames, but her gaze drifts. Always back to him.

Jasper’s eyes are cast downward, though he’s not really watching the fire. He seems lost in thought, jaw tense, the tip of his finger tapping against the arm of the chair in a slow, restless rhythm.

She can’t help but steal glances.

Again. And again.

The golden hue of his eyes has returned, it shimmers in the low light, intense and quiet all at once. Familiar.

Too familiar.

Her breath hitches. She’s seen them before. Not just at the wedding. Not just tonight. But inthe dream.

That recurring dream she never quite understood. The one that left her aching and hollow every time she woke. A figure in the dark. A storm outside. Golden eyes glowing in the shadows, looking right into her, like they’d always known her. And she’d reach for him, desperate, always desperate, and wake up before her fingers could touch him.

She thought it was a metaphor. A manifestation of loneliness. Of longing.

But those eyes?

They're his.

Her heart skips a beat. She saw those eyes recently, as well.

“I saw you before,” she says, almost absently, like the words slip past her lips before she can second guess them.

Jasper freezes. He doesn't look at her. Not right away. But the tapping stops. His whole body goes still, so still it’s unnatural. Tension spikes, growing in the space between them, and for the first time tonight, it’s not playful. It’s something colder. Darker.

His voice is low, cautious. “When?”

She tilts her head, brows drawing together as she watches him. “The other night,” she says slowly. “I think I stumbled into you. You caught me before I fell.”

Jasper exhales. His shoulders drop. Relief flickers across his face like wind snuffing out a flame, and he finally meets her gaze. “Yeah,” he says softly. “That was me.”

“You left pretty fast,” she adds, her voice lighter now, testing him, watching him closely. “Why?”

He shrugs, looking away again, his jaw ticking just slightly. “You seemed... busy.”

“Busy?”

“There was a guy.” His tone is flat. The accent thicker. “He was walking toward you with roses.”

Her lips part. And then she laughs, warm and genuine, caught off guard. “Oh my God.”

He looks back at her, brows lifted, uncertain.

“I hate roses,” she says, smiling wide. “They always feel like a cop out. Like the guy couldn’t be bothered to think for more than ten seconds.”

Jasper blinks, processing that.

“And the guy?” she continues, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just say... he’s very much out of my life. Where he belongs.”

A flicker of something shifts behind his eyes. A subtle satisfaction. It’s there and gone in a second, but she sees it. His lips twitch, and for a moment, he looks smug.

“Is that right?” he murmurs, and the warmth in his voice makes her toes curl.

“Mm-hm.” She leans back slightly, watching him from beneath her lashes. “So if you disappeared because you thought I was on a date with Mr. Red Roses, I’m here to clear it up. Just in case that’s why you were holding back.”

His eyes are on her again, fully this time. No restraint.

The firelight dances in the reflection of his gaze, and the tension from before doesn’t vanish completely. It just shifts into something else. Something quieter. Hotter.

“Noted,” Jasper says at last, his voice velvet soft and unmistakably pleased.

She smiles at him, soft and secretive, her heart fluttering in her chest like it hasn’t in years. And as the fire crackles and the silence fills the room once more, it’s no longer heavy.

Blinking slowly, she reminds herself to breathe, inhale, exhale, don’t fall apart. But it’s not easy, not when Jasper is looking at her like that. His golden eyes glow in the low light, molten and unreadable, and she feels like she’s standing too close to something she should be afraid of.

But she isn’t.

She’s captivated.

"Your eyes are like liquid fire," she murmurs, her voice soft, words leaving her before she can weigh their weight. "I fear the burn… but I cannot look away."

Jasper’s lips twitch at the corners, a faint smirk playing at the edge of his mouth. His gaze stays locked on hers, unwavering. "You sure you’re not the poet, darlin’?"

His voice is low, rich like dark honey, and it’s impossible to remain ice cold as she initially planned.

"You bring it out of me," she replies, chin tilted ever so slightly, matching his smirk with one of her own. "I don’t do this often, you know."

"Flirt with strange men in little cabins in the woods?" he drawls.

"Compliment their eyes while half-dressed," she clarifies, raising a brow. "Totally different."

Jasper’s gaze flickers downward, just once, just enough to remind her that her robe, though tied, clings to the curves beneath. He hasn’t changed his clothes. His shirt is still damp, clinging to his frame in a way that should be illegal. She can see the definition of his chest, the broad cut of his shoulders, the faint pattern of bluish veins on his forearms as he rests them lazily against the chair’s armrests, the tension in every inch of him like a spring ready to snap.

And yet, he doesn’t move. He just watches her.

"What's your favorite color?" she asks, wanting to ground herself and lustful thoughts before she combusts.

Jasper raises an eyebrow, almost caught off guard by the simplicity of it. "My favorite color?"

"You heard me." She tucks her legs under her body slowly, watching the way his eyes follow the movement before moving back to her face with a faint edge of restraint.

He chuckles softly, surprised. Then glances at the fire, as if searching for the answer there. "No one’s ever asked me that before."

She frowns, genuinely stunned. “You’re kidding.”

But something about the way he says it, quietly, almost hesitant, makes her believe it. There’s truth in it. Pain, too. She sees it then, emerging behind those golden eyes, buried beneath years of silence and shadows. The light from the fire doesn’t just dance across his skin, it reflects all the things he tries to keep buried. It catches on the cracks.

“It’s red,” he says finally, voice barely above a whisper. “Deep red.”

His smile is small but real. She swears it steals the breath from her lungs. Red like her nightgown and robe, she realizes. Even unintentionally, she’s trying to seduce him.

"I would've guessed… green," she teases. "You have that forest recluse vibe."

He huffs a laugh. “Not quite.” Then his eyes narrow playfully. “You strike me as a purple girl.”

She gasps, mock offense showing across her features. “Wrong.”

“Oh?”

“Blue,” she says with a grin of victory. “Like the sky… like freedom. Ever changing shades of blue that make up every part of our lives.”

There’s a pause, just long enough for her to avert her gaze shyly.

"Freedom, huh?" Jasper echoes, like the word tastes unfamiliar to him.

Her smile softens. “What about the season? What’s yours?”

He leans back, resting his head against the chair. His profile in the glow of the fire looks carved, almost unreal, sharp lines, sculpted features, that unruly hair drying in soft waves. She has to remind herself he’s real. That she’s here. That this isn’t another dream.

“Fall,” he says eventually. “It’s colorful… but everything’s fading. There’s something honest about it.”

Thunder rumbles low in the distance, a reminder that the world outside this cabin is wet, wild, and cold. But inside, it’s warm. Warmer than ever before. And safe… for now.

“You’re not what I expected,” she admits, watching him with curiosity.

His eyes meet hers again, calm but cautious. “What did you expect?”

She shrugs. “A flirt. A cowboy. A mystery. But I didn’t expect you to be… kind.”

That startles him. Not in a dramatic way, but in the flicker of his eyes, the slight movement in his shoulders. Like her words hit somewhere deeper than he expected.

“You don’t know me,” he says.

“I’m starting to.”

And something in his expression shifts. He straightens a little, just enough that the damp fabric of his shirt stretches across his chest again. She wonders if he notices the way her gaze lingers on him now, the way her breath is forgotten when he licks his bottom lip absently.

She doesn’t say anything about it, but her heart is pounding.

He’s too perfect. Too careful. Too calm. Every move he makes seems calculated. It goes against every natural instinct she’s learned. Every red flag she's ever ignored before being burned. Yet here she is. Still leaning in. Still falling.

“You’re dangerous,” she says suddenly, smiling through it.

Jasper tilts his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It might be,” she murmurs, shifting slightly on the couch, the robe slipping to reveal a sliver of her thigh.

Jasper’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move.

“Do you always seduce women by lighting fires and answering personal questions?” she asks, her tone light, teasing.

He smiles, just barely. “Only the ones I save from drowning.”

Her laugh is soft, breathy. “It’s a good thing I didn’t have to sing like Ariel to draw you in. I’m a terrible singer.”

“No need for singing,” he says, his voice dropping low, eyes darkening slightly. “I’d find you anyway.”

She swallows. He looks at her like he’s memorizing her. Like he’s restraining himself, but she wishes he’d stop. The storm outside rages inside her as well, and she needs to know if he feels it too.

She shifts on the couch again, the soft rustle of silk brushing against her skin. Jasper's eyes flicker toward the sound, briefly, before returning to her face. But that brief flicker is all she needs to know he notices everything.

She should look away, but she doesn’t.

Instead, her voice lowers as she leans a fraction forward, the firelight painting her skin in honey and shadows. "You said something earlier," she murmurs. "About no one ever asking your favorite color."

Jasper nods once, slow. Measured. “Mmhm.”

"Made me wonder…" Her gaze drops to the fire, lashes casting shadows on her cheek. Her tone is soft, almost musing, like she’s trying not to sound like she’s fishing, but she is. "Have you always been alone? Or just… lately?"

That gets his attention. She feels the shift before she sees it, like the world stops and gravity itself tilts toward her just slightly. When she meets his gaze again, it's already locked on her, heavy with something she can't quite name.

"Is that your way of asking if I’m single?" he says, one brow arching with just enough amusement to take the edge off the raw honesty underneath.

She huffs a soft laugh, caught. A flush rises to her cheeks, warm and betraying, but she doesn’t look away. “Maybe. I like to think I’m more subtle than that.”

“You’re not.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes not leaving hers. “But I don’t mind.” He pauses. “I’ve been alone for a while now,” he says, voice quieter. Still warm, still steady, but pained. “Long enough that it stopped feeling strange.”

She nods slowly, letting the words settle. And then, because she can't help herself, she continues. “Was it by choice?”

Jasper doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lowers, down to her lips, her throat, the pulse that jumps beneath her skin, and then locks on her again,

“Not at first.”

She swallows. “And now?”

His smile is soft. Shadowed. “Now I think some things happen when they’re meant to.”

She wonders if that’s meant for her. The fire cracks beside them, thunder still rolling faintly in the distance. The storm hasn’t passed, but in here, it might as well not exist.

“Are you asking because you’re thinking about changing that for me?” he teases, voice low.

She smirks, though her stomach flips. “Would it be a problem if I were?”

He lets the silence set again, a practiced pause, like he’s savoring the weight of her words before letting his answer fall: “No,” he says. “No problem at all.”

Her pulse pounds louder in her ears, but she plays it cool, leaning back slowly and smoothing the edge of her robe where it’s fallen slightly open at her thigh. “Good. I’d hate to waste a perfectly good storm on poor timing.”

Jasper leans back in his chair, watching her like she’s both a challenge and reward. “Darlin’, with you here…” He tilts his head, a slow grin forming. “Timing feels just right.”

His words linger in the air, rich and slow like honey dripping from a spoon.

Timing feels just right.

The way he says it, how it bears intention, makes her stomach flutter. She’s not easily rattled, but Jasper is a dangerous exception.

“You always talk like that?” she teases, stretching her legs across the couch, draping herself like she’s in control of this entire exchange, when she absolutely is not. “Or am I just a special case?”

His gaze falls to the ground. “I want to answer, but it wouldn’t be polite to say what I’m thinkin’,” he replies.

That does something to her. She swallows, glancing at the fire to cool the flush rising to her cheeks. Her fingers fiddle idly with the edge of the robe belt tied at her waist, nerves masked as restlessness.

Jasper shifts subtly in his chair, sitting a little stiffer now, as if resisting the urge to move closer. His knuckles seem paler against his knees, hands clenched tight, so still. Unnaturally still. Her eyes move toward his chest, narrowing slightly. Is he even breathing?

“Are you…” she trails off before she can finish the question, unsure what she’s even asking. She frowns softly, watching him too closely now. “You’re… hard to read.”

His head tilts slightly. “That so?” His tone is amused, but there’s tension beneath it, like he’s trying to play casual while keeping a tight grip on something unruly just beneath the surface.

“You’re calm. Too calm.” Her voice is soft, speculative, like she’s thinking out loud. “You barely move. You barely blink. It’s like… you’re not even breathing.”

That earns her a flicker of something behind his eyes. Not fear, not annoyance, something like... regret. Guilt, maybe. It's gone before she can name it.

“I do breathe,” he says evenly, lips twitching into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just not when it’s difficult.”

Her brows knit. He doesn’t make any sense “Difficult?”

Another pause. He shifts again, a subtle turn of his body away from her, like distance might help. She notices how tightly he holds himself, like one wrong move might crack him wide open and she’d catch sight of his soul on display.

Jasper’s jaw tightens. “You make the air… a little thick, is all.”

Her breath catches at the implication, heart thudding. “You blaming me, Cowboy? Telling me I smell bad?” she teases.

“I’m saying it’s not your fault your presence is…intoxicating,” he murmurs, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “But I reserve the right to suffer because of it.”

That gets a breathy laugh out of her before she can stop it. “You’re really pulling out all the lines tonight, huh?”

He finally turns fully to her again, and his expression softens. No grin. No teasing. Just quiet intensity.

“I’m not tryin’ to charm you,” he says, voice low. “You’re just… easy to talk to. Easy to look at.”

Something flutters in her chest, wild and unexpected. She’s not the only one who feels it then. And yet, there’s still that distance in his body. The way his fingers grip the chair too tightly, the way his shoulders lock, like he’s constantly reminding himself to stay exactly where he is. She wonders again if he’s fighting something she can’t see.

Y/N leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing just a touch, not with suspicion, but curiosity. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a lot you’re not saying?”

Jasper hesitates. There it is, that flicker again. This time not just in his eyes but in the way his entire body goes just a little too still, like he's deciding between fight or flight.

“I’ve been told I’m a hard person to get to know,” he admits, training his eyes on the fire. “That I keep my true self hidden.”

“Maybe,” she says softly, tilting her head. “Or maybe you’re just scared someone might see too much and use it against you.”

That makes him look at her again, really look. Something shifts in his expression then, and for the first time tonight, he looks… unsettled. But he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he clears his throat and leans back in his chair, creating just enough space to keep whatever storm is inside him from spilling over.

“Tell me more about the man with the roses,” he says abruptly, deflecting with calculated ease. “You said you hated both?”

She laughs, letting him have the shift in conversation, for now. “I did. I do.”

He smirks. “What kind of woman hates roses?”

“The kind who likes honesty over grand gestures. And prefers thorns out in the open.”

That earns a quiet chuckle from him. “Noted.”

Their eyes meet again, and this time, neither looks away. Y/N tugs the robe closer around her body, more out of instinct than chill, because despite the warmth of the fire, there's something in Jasper’s gaze that makes her skin prickle. It's not fear. It's want.

He shifts again, subtly angling his body toward her as though gravity itself favors her presence. But still, not a single unnecessary movement. Still no breath.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” she says softly, her lips curving as she rests her elbow on the armrest. “You seem to act like you’re made of stone.”

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound dark and husky. “Stone’s more accurate than you think.”

“See? There you go again,” she says, pointing a finger at him. “Being cryptic. It’s infuriating.”

His eyes flash at that, and for a second, the teasing slips from his face. Something lingers there. Almost like he is wounded.

“You’re not the only one who’s been burned before,” he says quietly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Her smile fades, gaze narrowing as she leans in, heart thudding just a little harder. “That sounded like the beginning of a story.”

Jasper stiffens. His jaw tenses, and he glances down at his hands like he’s just remembered he has them. She watches his knuckles go white again, the firelight catching the fine tremble in his fingers.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he says quietly. “Ones that don’t go away with time.”

She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t interrupt. She just watches him, lips parting slightly as if to invite more, but he doesn’t continue. He swallows hard, like the words are sitting razor-edged in his throat, and one more would tear him open.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she says gently. No wonder he is so guarded. Is he afraid she’d be a mistake, as well? “But that? That was the most human thing I’ve heard all night.”

He looks up at her then, and for the first time, his gaze isn't guarded. It’s aching. Vulnerable.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” he breathes.

“It is,” she says simply. “People carry their damage. Doesn’t make them less worth knowing.”

Jasper’s lips twitch, almost a smile… almost, but there’s something close to fear dancing in his eyes now. Like she’s getting too close to something he’s buried deep. She can feel him pulling back again, emotionally if not physically.

Before she can push further, before she can even ask the question dancing on the edge of her tongue.

CRACK.

The entire cabin rattles as thunder explodes overhead, so loud it sounds like the heavens have split in half. The lamp light flickers, the fire jumps, and Y/N jumps too, a startled gasp leaving her lips as she instinctively presses a hand to her chest.

Jasper’s up in a blink.

She doesn’t even see him move, he’s just suddenly there, closer than he was a second ago, hand half-outstretched as if to shield her from something. That strange stillness returns to his frame, but his eyes are sharp and alert now, scanning the shadows for signs of danger.

“Storm’s getting worse,” he mutters, voice low again, low and too calm.

“You don’t say,” she breathes out, forcing a laugh that’s more nerves than humor.

His gaze finds hers again, and there’s a softness to it now, something almost apologetic, as though he’s sorry for pulling away, sorry for not saying more. But he doesn’t speak, while outside, the storm screams.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop soon.” Jasper’s voice is quiet, measured. Too careful. “You should probably get some rest.”

Y/N blinks, heart sinking a little more than she wants to admit. Just as she felt she was chipping away at his defenses, this happens. A soft dismissal. She breathes out through her nose, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips out of sheer stubbornness. “Yeah,” she says, nodding as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Guess you’re right.”

She hesitates a moment longer than necessary before adding, “When will you rest?”

Jasper glances toward the fire, then back at her. “Soon.”

The way he says it feels like a gentle deflection. She fights the sting of disappointment, but she doesn’t let it show, at least, not entirely.

“I hope you're not a blanket hog,” she jokes, forcing a playful tone as she rises to her feet, brushing invisible lint off her robe. “You'll be joining me, right?”

His smile is subtle, restrained, like everything about him. It's more in his eyes than his lips, but it hits her all the same, right in the chest. She licks her lips to hide it, but she’s saddened by the way the day is ending.

“I’m good on the sofa,” he says, voice warm but distant. Polite. Detached. She’d much prefer an open rejection, something she can hold close to her stubborn heart and replay in her mind. This only gives her the idea of rejection, but in such a sweet way that it almost angers her.

“I don’t mind,” she presses, hands sliding to her hips. “The bed’s large enough for both of us.”

He shakes his head, golden curls falling softly around his face. He looks ethereal like this, hair dry and tousled, jaw sharp beneath firelight, eyes deeper than anything she's ever seen. How is he real?

“You saved my life,” she says, quieter now, less flirtation and more sincerity. “The least I can do is let you have the bed.”

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he replies with a familiar softness, one that only twists the knife. “I’ll be fine out here. Wouldn’t be a very good host if I took up all the space and hogged the covers, would I?”

His smile is back again, easy and charming, and yet all she can think is, he’s not going to come with me.

She nods, looking away briefly to blink back whatever disappointment is threatening to rise. You’re reading too much into this, she tells herself. He’s being kind. That’s all.

“Don’t be afraid to join me if you change your mind,” she says over her shoulder, quieter now, walking slowly behind his chair. Her voice is smooth, but her stomach churns, unsure if she’s flirting or begging.

He stops her.

A cool hand wraps gently around her wrist. She’s startled, gasping at the contact. His touch is cold. Not unpleasant, but cold enough to send a shiver running down her spine. He pulls her hand toward him, slowly, deliberately, and presses his lips to the inside of her wrist, just over her pulse.

She forgets how to breathe.

The kiss is featherlight, reverent. And it lingers, not long enough to be improper, but just enough to undo her completely. She stands frozen, hoping to hell her legs won’t fail her.

He’s still holding her gaze when he lets her go.

Maybe that’s what people mean when they talk about a gentleman, she thinks dazedly. Not one of weakness or practiced charm. But one who holds back even when he clearly doesn’t want to. One who shows restraint where others would have taken. And yet… there’s something mournful in him. Something unspoken. Something so filled with fear and guilt and she can’t understand where it comes from.

“Goodnight, Jasper,” she says, voice soft, uneven now. Her heart is still racing in her chest.

His eyes search hers for a second longer before he replies.

“Sleep well, darlin’.”

She walks away slowly, still reeling. The storm still howling outside, but it’s nothing compared to the one stirring in her chest. Biting her lower lip, she wracks her brain for a suitable word to say, but she can't even think properly. He has distorted her train of thought entirely.

The bed is too soft. She shifts beneath the covers, one arm thrown over her eyes, the other splayed out on the sheets beside her. The room is warm, her silk nightgown clinging to her skin in places she wishes it wouldn’t, heat rising from the fireplace lingering.

But it’s not the fire keeping her awake.

It’s him. Jasper.

She stares at the ceiling, heart still racing from his touch, from that kiss on her wrist. It replays over and over like a movie scene she’s memorized. Her skin still tingles where his lips pressed against it, as if they branded her, marked her. But that’s not what keeps her from sleeping. It’s the distance in his eyes. The contradiction. He’s warm and kind and gentle, but there's something in him that holds back, as though he's constantly walking the edge of a cliff and can't afford to look down. And God, it hurts a little, the way he wouldn’t come to bed. She had given him an open invitation. It wasn’t about sex, not even closeness, really. It was about comfort. Warmth. Trust. She had wanted to offer it. And he’d turned it down. Not cruelly. But carefully. Which might’ve been worse.

Was she wrong to want more? Was she imagining things, the tension, the shared glances, the moments that felt stolen from something bigger? She bites her lip, the taste of disappointment sharp as she sighs into the darkness.

What is he hiding?

And why does part of her still want him to knock on her door and climb in beside her, cold skin and secrets and all?

Despite her busy mind, sleep finds her soon enough and for the first time in forever, there are no golden eyes haunting her dreams.

The fire crackles, low and steady, bathing the cabin in flickering shadows. Jasper stares into it like he’s trying to burn the hunger out of himself.

He can still feel her wrist against his palm. Still taste her pulse against his lips, though he didn’t taste anything, not really. Not like he wants to.

His jaw clenches.

He hadn’t meant to touch her like that. Hadn’t meant to kiss her. But the moment she walked behind him, smelling like honey and warmth and a faint trace of something undeniably her, he lost the thread of his resolve.

And now? Now it’s fraying at the edges.

He inhales deeply, though it’s a habit more than a need. Each inhale is torture. Her scent lingers in the air like a ghost. He holds his breath again, trying to dull the ache in his throat. The hunger. The need.

She has no idea what she’s doing to him.

He imagines it, just for a second. The way her blood might taste. How warm it would be. How it might sing through his body like wildfire, like salvation and damnation all at once. The monster inside him stirs, just a little. He forces it down.

You’re better than this.

But God, it’s been so long since anyone made him feel… alive. He closes his eyes, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of him like he’s praying to a god who long stopped listening. She was kind to him. Open. Inviting. She didn’t flinch when he pulled her close. Didn’t run when she saw something darker in his eyes.

She saw the monster in him and smiled anyway.

And that’s the problem.

Because if he gives in, even a little... He’s afraid he won’t stop.

Jasper flees the cabin like the devil himself is at his heels. Trees blur past in streaks of black and green, rain lashing against his skin as he tears through the forest. The sound of her heartbeat still echoes in his ears. His throat is a furnace, a hollow tunnel of fire and ache. The taste of her is everywhere and nowhere, a ghost on his tongue, phantom sweetness that never came, but almost did.

Too close. Far too close.

By the time he stumbles up the porch steps of the Cullen house, he's shaking. Not visibly, his body is still and statuesque as always, but inside?

Inside, he's on his knees.

Carlisle opens the door before Jasper can raise a hand. “You did well, my son.”

A hand clasps his shoulder. Warm. Steady. Reassuring. But Jasper can’t respond. Can’t even meet Carlisle’s eyes. He’s terrified to draw a proper breath, certain that her scent is still clinging to him, soft and honeyed, soaked into the fabric of his shirt, caught in his curls. If he inhales too deeply, he’s afraid his resolve will fracture.

If I feel her again… would I go back?

Edward appears beside them, arms crossed, face unreadable. “He needs to hunt. Soon.” If anyone understands him, it’s him. He’s had it bad with Bella too. “I’ll help,” he adds. “We all will.”

But Jasper barely hears him. His voice sounds like it’s coming through water. Thick. Distant.

“If I hurt her…” Jasper begins, low and hoarse.

“You won’t,” Edward says quickly, confident in his response.

“There’s no guarantee,” Jasper growls, stepping back like their proximity alone is too much. His eyes, once a soft gold, are dark now. Bottomless. Ravenous. A predator’s stare. “You might know how it feels, but you don’t know what she does to me.”

Edward’s jaw tenses. But he remains calm. “The fact that you saved her, multiple times, means you’re in control. You’re doing better than I ever did with Bella.”

Jasper wants to agree. God, he wants to believe that.

But how can he?

The first time he caught her scent, he hadn’t even seen her face. He and Alice were in the hospital, watching from a distance after Edward saved Bella from being crushed by a truck. Amidst the chaos, the sterile tang of blood and adrenaline, her scent hit him like a freight train.

He hadn’t known who she was. He only knew he needed to feed.

It took three of his siblings to restrain him. For weeks afterward, he couldn’t be left alone. Someone always hovered close, Alice, Carlisle or Emmett, just in case. He was locked in a constant battle with the beast inside, writhing in silence.

He never connected the dots. Never knew that mysterious, maddening scent belonged to someone who would one day look at him like he was something good.

Looking back, it made sense why he snapped at the birthday party. Why a single papercut shattered him. He’d been teetering on the edge for months, made unstable by an unknown presence that inflamed his thirst every time it brushed against the periphery of his senses.

When the Cullens left Forks, he felt relief. The scent vanished. The haze lifted.

And then came the wedding. And again, there she was.

Unseen, but felt. Her scent turned his hunger into barbwire, it wrapped itself around his throat. Alice had to drag him away before he did something irreversible. That time, it only took him a few weeks to regain his senses. He clung to control like a lifeline, forced himself to act normal when Bella returned from her honeymoon, pregnant and terribly human, more human than ever as life drained from her. He distracted himself with the chaos, convinced it was all behind him.

But it wasn’t.

It would take a year and a half before Jasper would finally see her. Finally learn her name. Y/N. It was the same night Edward erased her memories. The moment their eyes met, the thirst returned, tenfold.

Now that he knows her, now that he’s touched her, heard her voice, watched her laugh…this is hell. Pure, exquisite torture.

Edward thinks he’s doing well?

He’s barely holding on.

Half the time she speaks, all Jasper can think about is how easily he could draw her closer. How sweet her breath would feel against his lips if he kissed her, right before sinking his teeth into the softness of her throat. If she came to him willingly, he could almost pretend he wasn’t a monster. Could almost lie to himself about what he would do next.

But no, he’s not in control. Not really.

And definitely not doing well.

Not at all.

Jasper shakes his head. “I almost killed her at the beach. When I pulled her out of the water and the ocean stopped masking her scent... I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to. The hunger was...” His voice trembles, and he clenches his fists to still the shaking. “Intoxicating. Like every cell in my body was begging for a taste. Just one.”

His eyes flash to Carlisle, wide with guilt. “I brought her to the woods planning to drain her dry. I had her in my arms. I ran with her into the trees, ready to end it. And then she opened her eyes and... I couldn’t.”

Carlisle exhales softly. “She’s your blood singer.”

Jasper flinches at the term, as if it brands him. He doesn’t want this. Not this way.

Emmett steps onto the porch, arms folded, the usual grin absent from his face. “She’s lucky it’s you and not me. I killed mine on sight.”

Regret pulses off Emmett like a wave, and Jasper, despite the pain clawing at his insides, instinctively dampens it, dulling the sharpness of his brother’s grief. And he hates that. Hates that even now, he’s still trying to fix everyone else while he’s falling apart inside.

“I don’t want to be around her,” Jasper murmurs, eyes locked on the treetops. Dark. Wet. Tempting.

“Just because your blood singer was your mate,” he says to Edward, “doesn’t mean she’s mine.”

“Alice said -” Emmett starts, but Jasper cuts him off, sharp.

“I know what Alice said.” His voice is rough, stripped of its usual smoothness. “She can’t be the one. No human can survive me.”

“She already has,” Carlisle reminds him gently. “She survived then and today again. She survived you at the beach. She survived the cabin. And you’re standing here, begging for a way to keep her safe. That says everything.”

Edward steps forward, gaze knowing. “You should hunt. Then go back to her.”

Jasper scoffs. “You think feeding will fix this?”

“No. But it will make you stronger and help the burning in your throat.” Edward’s voice is calm but firm. “If Alice is right, if she’s your mate, do you really want to lose her because you were too afraid to try?”

Jasper is silent.

He wants to scream. Wants to vanish into the forest and never return. Wants to erase the memory of her warm skin, her wide eyes, the soft pulse beneath her wrist as his lips hovered over it. He wanted to taste her so badly, he can still feel it. Like her blood is already in his mouth. Lush. Lively. Fatal.

He imagines it again, just for a moment. Her body against his. Her breath hitching. The way she would sigh when his teeth found her throat, the blood rushing to meet him, a welcome he doesn’t deserve. Her heart would stutter. Then stop.

It would be bliss. And it would ruin him.

He looks at Carlisle, then Edward.

“I can protect her from anything.” His voice is almost a whisper. “But how can I protect her from me? Every time I touched her, I was terrified. That I’d snap a bone. Cut her skin. Taste blood.”

Carlisle places a hand on his shoulder again. Steady. Fatherly. “Practice.”

Edward nods beside him. “A lot of it.”

The forest is still damp with the remnants of the storm. Jasper is running wild, untethered, finally hunting. Emmett charges alongside him with a shout of excitement, and Carlisle moves with graceful precision, already several yards ahead. The trees bend to make way for them. He will feed until the hunger is satiated, until his thoughts move away from all the ways he’d savor the taste of her blood, until every last drop is in his system. Until his eyes brighten and the hunter is appeased.

Back at the house, Alice stands by the window, watching shadows move beneath the moonlight. Her arms are folded, but her eyes are distant, seeing something no one else can. Almost no one.

Edward watches her, then speaks. “Are you absolutely certain your visions were right?”

She exhales slowly, finally looking away from the night. “Do you think I would leave Jasper for anything less?”

Edward nods once. “You knew before any of us.”

She smiles, faint and sad. “Y/N was already in town when you met Bella. Back then, Jasper was struggling to stay in control around her… but what none of us realized was that it wasn’t Bella driving him to the edge.”

Edward’s brows pinch together. “It was her.”

Alice nods again, slower this time. “He could smell Y/N in the hospital. I stopped him from seeking her out because I saw what would happen if he did...she’d die. I made a choice, and it changed everything. Because when I stopped him… I saw a different future.”

Her voice softens, wistful. “The future he could have with her. If we keep her alive long enough… it’s beautiful. She’s his mate, Edward. I’ve never doubted it.”

Edward wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in gently. “Still… it couldn’t have been easy. Leaving him.”

Her laugh is quiet and bitter. “Of course it wasn’t easy. I loved him. But I’m not his mate. And I wasn’t going to stand in the way of what he’s meant for. I knew if he was freshly single when he met her, she'd never trust him. I had to make it clean. Immediate. For all our sakes.”

“You’ll find your mate too,” he tells her softly.

“One day.” She leans into his side. “But that day isn’t here yet.”

They sit in the silence for a moment longer. The moon is high up, peeking out from behind clouds, casting light across Edward’s face. Alice studies him for a moment, then asks gently, “Does his thirst for her unnerve you?”

Edward hesitates. Swallows. “The rest of you don’t have a front row seat to his mind like I do. I won’t lie and say it’s been easy.”

“Far from feral?” she teases, trying to lighten the mood.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I’ve had… worse. But he’s right at the edge. And the things he thinks… the way he imagines her blood…and other things he’s like to do with her…” His voice falters. “It’s a struggle. Every second.”

Alice nods solemnly. “Well, I can already tell you this, none of those futures I’ve seen end with you killing her. You don’t need to carry that fear. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Both of you are.”

Edward looks at her, hesitant. “And in how many of those futures does she actually survive this?”

Alice’s smile fades. Her eyes darken. For a moment she’s still, then she opens her mind to him completely. One by one, visions flood into him. Flashes of blood. Of her body limp in Jasper’s arms. Of him falling to his knees in despair. Others are better, she’s laughing, Jasper seems radiant, they’re kissing underneath the moonlight.

But they’re few.

Edward’s lips part, his breath shuddering. “That was… difficult to watch.”

“I know.” Alice’s voice trembles just slightly. “Now you understand.”

He presses his lips into a thin line, turning from her to the moonlight. “If we can’t save Y/N…”

“We lose him,” Alice finishes.

He nods once. “Yes.”

A heavy silence settles again.

“One in a million chance,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “The odds are stacked against us.”

Alice shrugs with a whisper of a smile. “Well… her chances are higher after tonight.”

He raises a brow. “You’re sure?”

“We’ll see how she feels after breakfast.” Her grin turns sly. “Jasper’s not the only one who’s going to be tested tomorrow. It’s been a while since we’ve had a human in the house.”

Edward groans. “Just wait till we tell Rosalie.”

Alice snickers. “I already saw how that goes.”

----------------------------

Tags: @moonmark98 @formulas-bitch @ronniesreverie @anongirl007 @foxycrafterofgreenwood @lamelover @sl4t4darkling @megaprincesscakes @aj3684 @xnarixkimx

A/N: If you want to be tagged for future parts, leave a comment and make sure your blog's visibility is on (in settings) otherwise Tumblr won't allow me to tag you.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x y/n #jasper cullen x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #the twilight saga #twilight fandom #twilight saga

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callsigns-haze · 7 months ago

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Traitors War: 1

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x reader

An Eris x assassin reader mini series! (which may be followed by oneshots)

Eris, the heir to the Autumn throne, along with his brothers wishes to get rid of his father. Never did he know this journey would start 200 years ago with an assassin exiled from the Night court.

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Topics of war and death.

The council chamber of the Night Court is darker than ever, steeped in an oppressive silence that suffocates as you step forward. Shadows cling to the polished floors, stretching toward you like silent accusers, and the bitter taste of magic hangs thick in the air. You can feel the weight of the room bearing down, its chilling atmosphere a testament to the wrath that awaits you.

In the centre of it all, Rhysand sits with an eerie stillness, his face a mask of lethal beauty. But beneath his façade, fury radiates from him in waves, setting his violet eyes alight with a malice that chills you to the bone. Flanking him are Cassian and Azriel, as immovable and unreadable as statues carved from stone. Their stony expressions give nothing away, but the hardened edge in their postures speaks volumes.

“Do you even comprehend what you’ve done?” Rhysand’s voice is low, each syllable sharp as a blade, slicing through the silence with a vicious precision. The scorn woven into his tone sends a shiver down your spine. He does not wait for you to answer. “Of course you don’t. Because if you did, I doubt even you would be foolish enough to stand here, expecting leniency.”

His words strike deep, leaving a sting that blossoms into shame. You try to meet his gaze, but his expression is unyielding, his eyes alight with something dark and unrecognizable. You search for any hint of understanding, any sliver of the Rhysand you’ve known—but he has vanished, leaving behind this cold, merciless figure in his place.

“It was my job,” you manage, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat, each syllable heavy with the weight of your conviction. “I believed it was right.”

“Right?” he sneers, a contemptuous laugh escaping his lips, empty of humour. “You believed?” His voice drips with sarcasm, each word twisted and spat out like venom. “How very noble of you, to decide what’s right for me, for this court, for everyone.”

The force of his fury presses against you like a physical weight, but you force yourself to stand your ground, your hands clenched at your sides. Yet, the truth looms over you—a crushing reminder of the choice you made, the loyalty you gambled away.

His gaze narrows, and his tone drops to a cruel, mocking whisper. “Did you think yourself so wise, so indispensable, that I would forgive such treachery? That I would welcome you back with open arms after you conspired with him? With Eris?”

The hatred in his eyes is a dagger, and you feel it twist with every venomous word he hurls at you. Your skin prickles under his scrutiny, and you want to shrink away, but there is nowhere to hide from the cold, unyielding judgment that fills the room.

“How dare you,” he hisses, his voice like thunder, reverberating through the chamber. “How dare you undermine me, betray me—after everything I’ve given you? I gave you power, status, trust. And this is how you repay me?”

The accusation hangs in the air, suffocating, and you feel the sharp sting of his betrayal as deeply as he does. Words die on your tongue, and you’re left with nothing but silence—a silence he seizes upon, his lips twisting into a cruel smile.

“Look at you,” he sneers, his eyes raking over you with disgust. “The so-called assassin of the Night Court, reduced to this—a traitor, a coward. Did you ever think your lies would not come to light?”

He rises from his seat with deliberate slowness, his every movement a display of dominance and scorn. Cassian and Azriel remain impassive, but you sense their quiet fury, the simmering anger held back by sheer force of will.

Rhysand takes a step forward, and the air between you crackles with magic, raw and potent. The bonds that have marked you as his, that have stained your skin with his trust, begin to burn. You feel them unravel, one by one, slipping away like sand through your fingers, leaving behind a searing emptiness.

“Your place here is gone,” he says, his voice a venomous whisper. “As far as I’m concerned, you are nothing—a stain on this Court, a shame I will gladly erase.”

You force yourself to meet his gaze, your throat thick with the urge to plead, to defend yourself. But you know it would be pointless. He has condemned you already, cast you aside with a cruelty that leaves you hollow.

“Leave,” he orders, his voice cold and final. “And let it be known that from this moment forward, you are banished from the Night Court. Should you ever set foot here again, it will be as my enemy.”

The finality of his words sinks in, and for a moment, the room spins around you. You look at Azriel and Cassian, but their faces remain stony, offering no solace, no reprieve.

With a last, pained glance, you turn and walk away, the silence behind you as heavy as the bonds that now lie shattered at your feet.

The bench beneath you is rough, weathered by time and use, but it’s familiar—a place of respite amid the chaos that has engulfed the Autumn Court. The air is thick with the scent of woodsmoke and pine, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood on your lips. You tilt your head up slightly, trying to steady your breathing, wincing as a fresh wave of pain pulses from the bruises littering your body.

Eris kneels in front of you, his auburn hair glowing like embers in the dim light. His expression is carefully composed, but his gaze flickers with a rare softness, tinged with something unreadable as he delicately presses a damp cloth to your split lip. His fingers are steady, skilled, and his touch is uncharacteristically gentle, a contrast to the ruthless, calculating male the world knows him to be.

“I told you to stay out of the skirmish,” he murmurs, not meeting your eyes as he dabs away the dried blood. His voice is low, almost a whisper, but edged with frustration. “But you never listen, do you?”

You manage a weak smile, though it sends a fresh jolt of pain through your lip. “Where’s the fun in that?” The words are light, but the weight of the past, the years since you’d last shared such closeness, presses heavily between you.

He sighs, a hint of exasperation in his tone, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way he holds himself with a rigid precision, as though he’s one wrong move from unravelling. “I don’t need another ghost on my conscience,” he mutters, pressing the cloth a little harder than necessary, and you hiss, but his eyes are still fixed on his work. “Especially not yours.”

Your heart twists at his words, at the flicker of vulnerability he’s revealing, rare and raw. “Eris…if I wanted to stay safe and quiet, I wouldn’t have come here.” Your voice is soft, and his hand pauses for a moment as he absorbs your words, the truth in them, the history that binds you to his fight.

He finally looks up, his amber eyes intense, studying you with a scrutiny that feels as if he’s searching for something lost. “And yet,” he says slowly, his tone cold but his gaze warm, “you are still here, fighting alongside me. After everything.”

You meet his gaze, the memories flooding back—the years in the shadows, the loyalty you once swore to Rhysand that had ended with such bitter finality. And yet, in this moment, here with Eris, there is an understanding, an alliance you’d never expected to find.

“Beron has to be stopped,” you say quietly, a hardness slipping into your voice. “We both know it. We've known it for two hundred years. The things he’s done… he doesn’t deserve the power he holds over these lands. He has to fall.”

Eris’s expression darkens, and his hand, still cradling your chin, trembles slightly. “I know,” he says, his voice thick with something darker, more personal. “But it’s not that simple. Killing him means more than just power shifting—it’s risking everything, for everyone. It means blood on my hands, blood I can’t wash away.”

You reach up, your fingers brushing his, grounding him. “You’ve done this much already, led so many to stand against him. I’ve seen the way the court follows you, Eris. They believe in you.” You pause, searching his eyes. “And so do I.”

A shadow passes over his face, softening the harsh lines of his expression. “Why, after everything that’s happened, do you still believe in me?” His voice is so quiet you almost miss it, but the question lingers in the air, laden with years of unspoken words.

You hold his gaze, your voice firm, unwavering. “Because you chose to be better than him, better than I ever thought a man like you would. You chose a path that no one else would. And no matter what, that choice will always matter to me.”

He swallows, the barest hint of emotion flickering across his face, and he lets out a low, bitter laugh. “Then maybe I am a fool, too, for keeping you here—for wanting you to be by my side when it’s all over.”

You shake your head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the pain. “You’re no fool, Eris. We’re both haunted by our choices, our pasts. But right now, we have a chance to make something right.” You reach out, your fingers grazing his cheek. “And I think it’s worth it, even if it costs us everything, well.... I personally don't have anything to lose.”

For a moment, he leans into your touch, closing his eyes as though savouring the fleeting solace. Then he straightens, his face hardening once more, but there’s a spark in his eyes now, a fierceness that rekindles the fire within him.

Eris’s fingers slip under your arm, steady and firm as he lifts you off the bench. The suddenness of it makes you gasp, but he merely quirks an eyebrow, as if amused by your surprise. His hand lingers a moment longer than necessary, the rough pads of his fingers brushing your bruised skin, grounding you in the moment as he releases you. Then, with a silent understanding, the two of you begin to walk.

The camp sprawls before you, tents set up in rough but orderly rows, each one a mark of defiance against Beron’s reign. Soldiers mill around, sharpening blades, tending to wounds, and whispering quiet plans and reassurances. Fires crackle, sending up thin curls of smoke into the crisp air, their warmth a stark contrast to the heavy chill that hangs over the camp.

Eris keeps a brisk pace beside you, his gaze intense, eyes constantly scanning his surroundings. There’s a palpable energy about him, something sharp and restless, as if he’s a blade just waiting to be unleashed. The soldiers and spies nod respectfully as he passes, but there’s a new light in their eyes—a glimmer of hope, of trust in him that you’ve seldom seen in this court. Despite the darkness, they believe in him. Just as you do.

As you walk, a figure comes jogging toward you, his familiar auburn hair catching the light of the dying sun. Lucien’s face is flushed from exertion, but there’s a victorious gleam in his russet eye as he slows to a stop before you and Eris.

“We’ve taken down another one of Beron’s forces,” Lucien announces, his voice edged with satisfaction. He places his hands on his knees, breathing heavily but grinning. “One of his inner forces. His numbers are dwindling, and his support… well, it’s hanging on by threads now.”

Eris’s lips curl into a slow, calculating smile, his gaze sharpening as Lucien’s words sink in. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone a dark satisfaction laced with bitter triumph. “That’s one less hand Beron has to wield against us.”

Lucien’s gaze shifts to you, his eyes softening as he takes in your injuries. “You look worse for wear,” he remarks, though there’s a flicker of concern beneath his teasing tone. “You should be resting.”

You give him a small, tired smile, shrugging slightly. “Couldn’t leave all the fun to you, could I?”

Eris’s fingers brush your arm, guiding you forward with an unspoken insistence. “Rest will come after Beron is gone,” he says firmly, his voice brokering no argument. He looks to Lucien, his expression hardening. “With this win, we’ll need to reinforce the eastern front. Beron may be desperate, but that will only make him more dangerous.”

Lucien nods, his face growing serious. “The soldiers are preparing as we speak. Morale is high—they know Beron is losing ground.” His gaze sharpens, a glint of satisfaction sparking in his eye. “And they know they’re not just fighting for a cause. They’re fighting for you, Eris.”

Eris’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable, his mask slipping just enough for you to see the weight he carries. But then he straightens, his shoulders squaring with renewed resolve. “Then let’s give them a reason to keep believing,” he says, his voice steely and resolute.

Eris’s hand brushes against yours as he guides you away from Lucien, slipping through the bustling camp. The soldiers and spies nod respectfully as you pass, but you can feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken questions and curiosity that ripple in your wake. They’ve heard of you, the once-assassin of the Night Court who has returned to fight beside Eris. You can practically feel the stories they must tell—legends whispered in the dark, half-believed tales of your skill, your ruthlessness.

Eris leads you to a tent set slightly apart from the others, tucked away from the main cluster. He steps inside first, holding the tent flap open for you. As you enter, the scent of leather and steel greets you, sharp and familiar. Your old assassin’s gear is laid out on a small table in the centre, the black leather as supple and deadly as you remember. Knives and throwing blades glint in the firelight, each one meticulously sharpened, waiting for your touch.

You move to the table, fingers brushing over the leather armour, the silent weapons that were once an extension of yourself. You slip out of your travel-worn clothes, letting them fall to the ground. Piece by piece, you put on the gear, feeling the familiar weight settle over you like a second skin. The leather is snug, perfectly fitted to your body, and you secure the buckles and straps with practiced precision, feeling the transformation as the assassin within you stirs, roused after all these years.

Eris watches in silence, his gaze unwavering, intense. There’s something in his expression, a flicker of worry that he tries to mask but cannot entirely hide. You reach for the knives, fastening them to your belt, slipping blades into hidden sheaths along your thighs and forearms, every movement precise, deliberate.

Finally, you turn to him, adjusting the last strap on your wrist. He takes a step closer, his hand hovering just near your arm, as if he wants to touch you, to steady you, but holds back. His face is a study of quiet turmoil, the calm, composed mask he wears slipping ever so slightly.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice low, almost pleading. “Sending you, alone, to Beron’s camp… It’s dangerous. Even for you.”

You meet his gaze, holding it with a steady conviction that leaves no room for doubt. “This is what I’m meant for, Eris. I know how to do this.” Your voice is calm, controlled, yet there’s a fire in your eyes, a certainty that hardens your resolve.

He looks down, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he battles with something unspoken. “You’re to burn the camp,” he murmurs, his tone almost bitter, as if the thought of sending you into that inferno cuts him deeply. “To wipe out anyone who stands in your way. You… shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

You lift your chin, reaching up to touch his face, your fingers brushing along his jawline. “If we’re going to end this war, Beron’s camp needs to fall. And I am the best suited to do this. I’ve done things like this before.”

Eris’s hand finally finds yours, his fingers entwining with yours, strong and steady. “Those days are behind you. You’re… more than just an assassin now. More than just a weapon.” His voice is barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words louder would make them real, and in that moment, you see the worry, the raw, aching fear he’s been hiding.

You squeeze his hand, grounding him, your voice a gentle reassurance. “And I’m still a fighter. I’m still someone who knows how to end a battle.” You step back, straightening, every inch the assassin who once served the Night Court. “You’re leading your forces, Eris. Let me do what I do best.”

He hesitates, his eyes darkening as his thumb grazes your knuckles, the touch tender, lingering. “If anything happens to you…”

“Nothing will,” you say, your tone firm. “I’ll be back before dawn.”

Eris swallows, his gaze never leaving yours, and you see the war within him—the tension between his duty as a leader and his fear as… something more. Finally, he releases your hand, stepping back, his expression once again composed, though his eyes betray him.

“Take my smoke hounds,” he says, voice hardening with reluctant resolve. “They’ll be at your command, lethal and loyal. If anyone stands in your way…” His mouth tightens, as though the thought of what you’re about to do pains him. “Do what you must.”

You nod, feeling the finality of his words settle over you like a cloak. The smoke hounds are Eris’s most trusted creatures—vicious, swift, creatures of shadow and flame. With them by your side, Beron’s camp will fall, reduced to ash and memory.

As you turn to leave, Eris’s voice stops you, a soft, broken whisper. “Come back to me.”

You glance back, meeting his gaze, a silent promise passing between you.

The forest blurs around you, dark and thick with shadows as you sprint through the trees, each stride light and precise. The silence of the woods is broken only by the quiet rustle of leaves beneath your feet and the soft, nearly soundless patter of twelve pairs of paws moving in sync beside you. Eris’s smokehounds, shadows among shadows, run with you, their sleek bodies rippling with the restrained power of creatures forged from flame and darkness. Their eyes gleam in the dim light, flickers of red and gold mirroring the embers deep within them.

Your breath comes in steady, controlled puffs, each one carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. You push your pace, weaving around trees, ducking under branches, letting the familiar rhythm of running take over. The hounds follow you with fierce loyalty, twelve shadowed phantoms keeping stride with ease, their eyes never straying from you. You’ve trained with creatures like them before; they know your signals, can read your smallest gestures. And tonight, they know their purpose as well as you do.

Ahead, you see the cliff edge through the trees, the canyon beyond stretching wide and deep, a gaping chasm that offers the perfect vantage point. Twenty-five minutes until the fire, just as planned. You mentally mark each step of the mission: secure the perimeter, then unleash the hounds. They’ll tear through Beron’s forces with merciless precision, a deadly warning sent by Eris himself.

With a soft hand signal, you urge the hounds to pick up the pace. They respond instantly, surging forward in a silent wave, each one attuned to your every movement. You can feel their excitement, their hunger to fulfill their purpose—a lethal harmony that mirrors your own resolve.

At the cliff’s edge, you pause for just a moment, looking out over the vast expanse of trees, campfires flickering faintly in the distance. Beron’s forces are spread across the valley below, unsuspecting, oblivious to the doom that will descend upon them in a matter of minutes. You breathe in, feeling the cool night air fill your lungs, centring yourself.

Then you leap into motion again, running along the edge of the cliff, the hounds fanning out beside you. The ground is uneven, treacherous, but you move with confidence, your steps sure and steady. The hounds move effortlessly, their eyes fixed forward, waiting for your command to unleash them upon the enemy below.

The minutes tick by, and you count each one, your mind focused, calculating. You know that Eris will be watching the clock, timing your return. He’ll know the moment his hounds have done their work, the moment the fires ignite, marking the beginning of the end for Beron’s camp. And he’ll be waiting, trusting that you will return alongside them.

You feel the power thrumming through your veins, the familiar thrill of the mission, the anticipation of the flames that will soon light up the sky. You glance down at the hounds, each one poised and ready, their bodies taut with barely-contained energy. With a small, barely perceptible nod, you give the signal.

You crouch low, hidden among the dense trees at the edge of the camp. The flickering glow of campfires illuminates the chaos below. Beron’s forces move with the sluggish confidence of men who believe themselves safe, unaware of the inferno waiting to consume them. You pull the bow from your back, your fingers steady as you nock an arrow soaked in pitch. With a deep breath, you draw back the string, the familiar weight and tension grounding you.

The torch at your side flickers in the cool night breeze, casting your shadow long against the forest floor. With a deliberate motion, you dip the arrowhead into the flame. Fire bursts to life, licking up the shaft, bright and hungry. The light reflects off the sharp edges of your assassin’s gear, and for a moment, you’re bathed in a fiery glow.

You take aim at the largest tent—the command centre, judging by its size and central position. The arrow flies, cutting through the air in a deadly arc, embedding itself into the canvas. Flame spreads instantly, roaring to life as the tent is consumed. You don’t wait to watch it burn. Another arrow is already in your hand, aflame and ready. This time, you aim for the storage tent where supplies are stacked high. It ignites with a burst of heat, the fire leaping from one crate to the next.

One more arrow—this time toward the soldiers’ quarters. The shot is perfect. The flames catch, and panic spreads like wildfire. Shouts rise as soldiers scramble to put out the blaze, but it’s too late. Smoke curls upward, dark and thick, a signal of chaos rising to the stars.

You sling your bow across your back and run, feet pounding the forest floor as you follow the path you memorized earlier. Your mind maps out every turn, every slope: the sharp left at the leaning oak, the shallow stream you leap across without hesitation, the narrow ridge that runs parallel to the cliffside. Your breath comes in short bursts, your heart hammering in your chest, but your focus remains razor-sharp.

Then you hear it—shouts behind you. The sound cuts through the night like a blade, and when you glance back, you see them: Beron’s soldiers, torches in hand, spreading through the trees like a swarm. One of them spots you, his shout echoing across the forest, and suddenly the hunt is on.

You push harder, adrenaline surging through your veins, but the weight of your gear slows you. The thick leather straps dig into your shoulders, the metal clasps clinking faintly with every stride. It feels like a leaden anchor dragging you down.

With a frustrated growl, you strip the bow from your back, tossing it aside into the underbrush. Next, you unbuckle the heavier pieces of your armour mid-stride, letting them fall as you run. The bracers follow, the daggers strapped to your thighs discarded one by one. You leave a trail of discarded weaponry in your wake, the promise of lighter steps driving you forward.

But the soldiers are everywhere. Torches light up the forest in jagged lines, cutting off your escape routes. Their shouts grow louder, closer, and the realization hits you: they’re herding you, pushing you toward the cliff. Panic sparks in your chest, but you keep moving, feet skimming over rocks and roots, muscles burning with the effort.

The cliff looms ahead, the forest giving way to open sky and the deafening roar of the river far below. The soldiers close in, their shouts a cacophony that drowns out your pounding heartbeat. There’s no time to think, no time to hesitate. You sprint toward the edge, the ground disappearing beneath your feet as you leap.

For a moment, there’s only silence. The world drops away, the wind rushing past you in a deafening roar. Your stomach lurches as you fall, the vast canyon walls blurring on either side. Below, the river churns violently, a silver ribbon that grows larger with every passing second.

You hit the water hard, the impact stealing the breath from your lungs. The freezing cold engulfs you, dragging you down, the current tugging at your limbs with relentless force. You fight to the surface, gasping for air, the icy water shocking your system into focus.

The river carries you away, the sounds of pursuit fading into the distance. You let it take you, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, knowing that survival is your only thought now. Above the churning waters, the smoke from Beron’s camp rises into the night, the promise of fire and destruction marking the beginning of the end.

A/N: this series was supposed to be posted in February but as you can see part one is out now but it will be a while till part 2!

part 2

#acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fic #eris imagine #eris fanfic #eris vandaddy

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k-hotchoisan · 2 years ago

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7 minutes in heaven (Mingix fem! Reader)

Synopsis: a game of spin the bottle lands on you and Song Mingi for a dare of 7 minutes in heaven.

Right. We all know what’s coming.

Genre/warnings: sexual tension, sex, obviously, unprotected sex, orgasms, hickeys, cream pies, dirty talk, pet names (princess)

Word count: 2.3K

A/n: I just found out like what 7 minutes in heaven meant from my friends and I was instantly like “it’s basically sex???” Bro she was just tired of me at this point.

Also this is pretty fucking filthy. I would love Song fucking Mingi to ruin me like that too. ❤️

Spin the bottle, spin the fucking bottle.

“Oh come on. Just fucking come!” San whines. “You have me there! And Song Mingi is coming!”

“Song Mingi? Why the hell is he going?” You whip your head at San.

“‘Cause he’s Yunho’s friend?” San answers matter-of-factly, scrunching his eyebrows at you. “And he’s your crush?”

“Oh my god, San. Fuck off”, you wave him off in annoyance. As much as he was right, you hated that he was right. You and Mingi’s friendship started through mutual friends, and for some reason, it seemed that you fell for him during the course of the friendship. And you hated that, because the basis of the friendship was just extreme playfulness and constantly getting on each other’s nerves.

On that one time when Yunho teased Mingi about the both of you being a couple, Mingi smacked Yunho, outright denying any ounce of feelings between the both of you.

So now, it was two things—seething hatred and an ugly crush—the biggest paradox of feelings you’ve ever had. You spent the past few weeks lessening your meet ups with Mingi, and he didn’t question why.

And now suddenly a party that he’s gonna be at? No fucking way. San doesn’t relent though, for some reason he was hell-bent on getting you to come, and he wouldn’t tell you exactly why.

“What would it take for you to come?” San questions as he leans into your shoulder, giving you the puppy eyes that could never out-do Yunho’s.

“Five hundred bucks,” you answer, pinching his nose as he winces in pain, slapping your hand away.

“Yeah right”, San rolls his eyes. “I’ll introduce you to someone, okay?”

That isn’t the main point but you sense San’s sincerity, so you decide to humour him.

Little did you know that it would snowball to whatever had happened.

Your arm is hooked around San as the both of you enter Yunho’s spacious apartment, greeting the people as the both of you slither past them to look for the host. San spots Yunho from a distance and waves to him to get his attention. Yunho turns his head and pats the guy beside him to get his attention.

And it was Mingi.

Mingi has an unreadable expression the moment his eyes land on you, noticing your hand around San’s arm. He gives a small smile as the both of you walk over to greet Yunho.

“Hey. I’m glad you made it”, Yunho greets, giving San a hug as San removes himself from you, and then patting your head. Mingi still has his eyes on you, and you pretend not to notice.

“Yeah, I had to hold her at gunpoint for her to come”, San jokes, using your head as an arm rest. You roll your eyes.

“Damn. You really didn’t want to see me that much?” Yunho asks, pressing his palm against his chest, acting heartbroken. You playfully give him a light shove.

“It’s been awhile, y/n. Nice seeing you again”, Mingi chimes in, giving you a smile. You stare back, exchanging a small smile back at him. It had definitely been a couple of weeks since you contacted him, since the bullshit he spout.

“We’re going to play Spin the Bottle now, and you came just in time for that. San, y/n, you wanna join?”

Your gaze holds Mingi’s, almost challenging him and your grip tightens around San’s arm.

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

A circle quickly forms as everyone sits, there is about seven people in the circle, a mix of girls and guys, including you and Mingi, both of you sitting across each other. The game goes on pretty normally in the first hour, but as the drinks started flowing in, the questions and dares starting getting more spicy.

In the fourth round, the bottle spins, and it lands on Mingi.

“Truth”, Mingi says.

San pushes the question, “Have you liked anyone in the friend group before.”

You don’t catch Mingi’s gaze at you because you were too busy whispering something to San.

“Yeah.” A few “ooohs” echo in the room and you purse your lips in curiosity.

A few rounds later, the bottle spins, and it lands on you.

“Truth”, you say.

Yunho rubs his hands. “Is there anyone in the room that you wanna kiss?”

Fuck. The alcohol was definitely kicking in, but not enough for you drunkenly answer right away. You really wanted to lie.

Everyone had their eyes on you, curious of your answer, especially Mingi. He’s quiet, his gaze piercing into you, and you catch wind of it. Your anxiety slowly dissipates as you decide to be smug with that motherfucker. You know he’s gazing at you, and you hold the stare before shifting your gaze to San, who was fighting for his life with the alcohol, before saying, “Yes.”

Considering that your small gaze towards San wasn’t missed out by majority of the players, they laugh and clap their hands, evidently fooled by you. You smile as you sip your alcohol.

The bottle spins. And it lands on Mingi.

“Dare”, he says, almost too confidently.

Hongjoong immediately pushes, “Seven minutes in Heaven, to whoever the bottle lands on.”

Mingi scoffs, feeling confident, as he reaches for the bottle to spin it.

It spins, and it the neck lands on you. Your eyes widen in shock because you really did not expect that. Mingi has that unreadable expression on his face again, before Hongjoong smacks his back, reminding him of his dare. The players roar in excitement and whistles.

Seven minutes of being trapped in a room with each other.

Your mind is racing, but you tell yourself, anything could happen, including non-sexual things. The both of you could just sit alone together, albeit in a little bit of awkwardness, and just wait for the seven minutes to pass. Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad.

You and Mingi stay seated on the bed of a guest room, not saying anything to each other.

Seven minutes start.

“Are you avoiding me?” He asks after long pause.

“No?” You lie too quickly.

“Then why haven’t you been replying to my texts? We used to hang out so much.”

“I was just busy.”

“Liar.”

You glare at him, and he holds the stare.

“You’re finally looking at me properly”, he says, and your heartbeat ups another notch.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Not really. You couldn’t really blame him, but at the same time, what happened genuinely did make you upset.

“No”, you reply, turning away, only for his fingers grab your chin.

He sighs. “Please stop looking away from me. It’s driving me crazy.”

Good. That’s cause he deserves it. The way his fingers are pressing onto your chin was starting to make you heat up.

“No. It’s mostly a me problem”, you vaguely tell him. “You sure you’re okay with doing this when you have a crush within the friend group?” You ask, as you lie onto the cold sheets.

Mingi doesn’t answer you, but he towers over you, looking at you with some sort of lust and desire—it was looking very dangerous.

“I’ll answer you non-verbally, if I get your consent”, he responds, his breathing getting heavier. You decided to take him on and nod.

He leans in and kisses you, feeling every part of your mouth, as he groans into your mouth. The alcoholic taste lingers, mixed with his saliva, tasted strangely sweet. He pulls your shirt off as you unbuckle his jeans.

The way his wet and leaking cock presses onto his underwear fucking scares you because he was so fucking big. He tugs your bottoms and undergarments off, almost too desperately, then soaking his fingers with his spit as he starts rubbing your clit slowly. Electric pulses through your spine, in pleasure as your back arches, and soft moans are leaving you.

He plunges in both hands when he deems you wet enough and you cry out as his fingers curl into you.

Five minutes.

He continues to fuck you with his fingers and you hands claw his arms, desperate for something more hotter, and bigger.

He pulls out, leaving you clenching at nothing. Mingi’s underwear is removed way too quickly and you gasp at his length and girth. He was not fucking around. He wraps his hands around his cock and pumps it a few times, giving you a small show of his groans and small bucking hips.

Four minutes.

Mingi lift your legs to his shoulder as you lay on your side as he slides his cock into you, before fucking you into the bed, his grunts and moans filling up the room. Fuck. His cock is too fucking big. It’s just dragging against every single nerve in your wall. Your hands were gripping onto the sheets, as you fail to keep your composure, and your moans.

“Fuck. You’re so tight”, Mingi exhales as he pulls out before slamming into you again as he drinks your whimpers and cries. “So fucking good.”

He lets your leg fall, and he fucks you from behind, his hands gripping your hips. Your limbs were starting to feel numb from the pleasure. He stops for a second before grabbing your waist, to put your back to lie against his chest. This only fucks up your sanity because his cock was stuffing your wet and abused cunt from the bottom.

“Mingi, it’s too much—fuck—so fucking big”, you cry out, your mind going hazy as he sucks against the skin on your neck. Your head was lolled back, and your eyes are rolled back too, feeling nothing but the sensation of Mingi’s cock going in and out of your hole, as you cream on his cock. Fuck, it felt like heaven.

“Such a good girl. Keep moaning for me”, Mingi hums as he, himself, also was struggling to form coherent thoughts as you were squeezing him out. His moans were trapped in your head because his lips were close to your ear. His fingers pinching your nipples before slapping your cunt gently, causing you to squeal and tighten around him and his voice goes up and octave.

“We have three more minutes,” Mingi says, his eyes glancing at the small timer facing the both of you. “We should really at least finish it with something good—like this”, he says as pushes into you so deeply and your body becomes paralysed, his cock slightly bulging your abdomen, your mouth is open but no sound is coming out. Your thighs tremble as tears pool at the corner of your eyes. Your pussy flutters around his cock as your orgasm hits you in waves. Mingi thrusts in you shallowly, his full cock still deep in you.

“Y/n, you’re creaming so much. It feels so fucking good. I’m gonna cum too, Princess”, he encourages, rubbing your clit in slow circles, tightening another knot in your abdomen.

Two minutes.

Mingi just wants to continue fucking into you until he’s satisfied, and once you feel his cock twitch in you, you know he’s close.

“So tell me, who was it did you want to kiss between the guys?” He suddenly asks, slowly decelerating his thrusts, and you were about to lose your fucking mind.

“Was it Choi fucking San?” He asks, his fingers cupping your chin to ensure you face him. He smiles, loving how fucked out you looked, ruined by him. “Tell me, princess.”

He pulls out in such a slow and painful speed that your thighs tremble from the way his cock just drags against your walls.

His grip on your cheeks lower to your neck, and he gently squeezes.

“Answer me”, he demands.

One minute.

“Fuck—it’s you. It’s fucking Song Mingi!” You cry out, craving his cock to fill you up like cockslut you were.

His eyes grow wild as he lets go of your throat , his hands slithering to your bottom of your thighs, spreading them even more as he bottoms out in you, slamming his cock right into you until you start seeing fucking stars behind your eyelids.

“Good girl. Take my fucking cum”, he says as he fucks into you one more time, his cock squirting strings of cum right into your pussy as your second orgasm overwhelms you, leaving you whimpering and shaking from the overstimulation as Mingi empties in you.

The timer goes off, the alarm annoyingly loud. Mingi gingerly pulls out of you as you twitch, and lets your head rest on the pillows. Your cunt was still throbbing, as it flutters at nothing while Mingi’s cum leaks out of you. He looks at you and smirks, like you are his favourite masterpiece. He inches forward and presses his lips onto yours as he strokes your hair.

“That’s my princess. I think it’s pretty obvious but I like you. I really, fucking like you”, he confesses. As you were about to reply through half-lidded eyes, the door knocks.

Mingi pulls the sheets over you before answering the door. Yunho had his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. He spots you heaving softly against the guest bed and immediately puts two and two together.

“She’s not playing anymore,” Mingi answers, blocking his view.

Yunho scoffs. “Took the both of you fucking long enough. The tension was crazy. We’re going to get more drinks so the both of you can continue your own little game.”

Mingi laughs as Yunho leaves, before shutting the door behind him.

He stares at you, curled up in bed, still looking dazed, and walks over to you. He pulls the sheets off, and a mix of his cum and your arousal just dripping past your inner thighs, red flushing your ass and your cheeks.

Mingi licks his lips, suddenly hungry again as he towers over you to spread your legs once more, pushing in a finger way too easily, the sounds of his cum squelching out of your pussy as your eyes roll back again. His fingers cup your chin, forcing you to face his lustful gaze.

“Seven minutes are up but now we’ve got all the time in the world, princess. I’ll show what real heaven feels like.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #smut #ateez fic #kpop fic #kpop smut #ateez Mingi #song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi x y/n

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amoreva · 1 year ago

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girl i beg you i need reader x luke based on gorgeous by taylor swift... its been on my mind for like past week

FESS UP!

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pairing: luke castellan x reader

summary: you still have some unresolved feelings about a certain Hermes counselor.

warnings: cursing, implied reader is halfblood, sexual innuendo, dorky, drinking, kinda loser!reader

a/n: is it dorky? probably, lmk with feedback in the comments. every one is appreciated and helps me write towards your liking.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

You were a coward.

Not with everything, because gods forbid you’re afraid of monsters despite having demigod-blood in you.

No, you were a coward with confrontation. With emotions, with love. Mainly love. You couldn’t even confess to a someone without your stomach churning.

And how you expressed attraction was…not ideal, according to Silena. You kind of, sort of—just a tad made fun of some things you found attractive of them.

Ideally, you wanted to leave yourself out for the harpies to maul you when your crushes give you a look (you knew you fucked up).

Which is why you have stuck to the tactic of watch and admire from afar and be happy with just friendship.

A classic.

The bonfire burned high and orange as many of the older campers and counselors, including yourself, were hanging out without the responsibilities of taking care of your younger siblings.

The typical red solo cups were in the hands of every demigod. A mysterious mixture made by Dionysus’ twins, Pollux and Castor, occupied the container. They never told anyone the recipe or what’s in it, but it left a warm feeling in your chest.

“You keep staring and he’s bound to notice.” Silena sat next to you. “Or your eyes fall out.”

“I hate him. Why does he have to look like that?” You groaned and sipped your drink to distract you from your current crush.

Luke Castellan. The golden boy of Camp Half-Blood. He could charm anyone’s pants off with a smile. It was frustrating how good looking and friendly and cool and kind he was. Fuck him.

He was talking the Chris and Beckendorf about who knows what. Somehow, the Hermes counselor has yet to have a girlfriend. He’s probably a virgin. You could fix that.

“Honey…” Silena looked at you with concern in her eyes and a polite smile. “The whole sit and admire tactic is redundant. Talk to him.”

“Silena…” You whined and the girl was preparing herself to listen to your list of excuses of why you can’t.

“No, no—don’t whine like a baby!” Silena dumped the rest of her drink into your cup. Taking initiative, she made your chug like half. “Fess up or mess up! Take some liquid courage and go talk to him.”

“Silen—” You sputtered as your chest grew as warm as the bonfire. Your throat burned in a good way.

Whoever said Silena was the Camp’s Cupid was right and she was quite determined to get a start on pairing you and Luke. Just to see how it turns out, of course.

Next thing you know, you’re dragged over to Luke, Chris and Beckendorf; interrupting the boys’ conversation. Silena made up some lame excuse and said a quick introduction before shoving Chris and Beckendorf away from Luke and you.

Gods, he’s so gorgeous. His curly hair tosseles over his head. His eyes meeting yours as he sipped on his own drink. That amused smirk that paired so well with his scar—both working in favor of his boyish charm.

And suddenly he’s moving his mouth.

“Hey.” He said normal and polite as one would do. Obviously.

And you can’t help but think of Tangled. Specifically, the scene when Flynn Rider is tied up to a chair with Rapunzel’s hair. She interrogating him and all he could muster was a smolder and the word “Hey”, to try and charm his way out.

Luke looks out quizzically as you poorly try to stifle a mix between a giggle and a snort behind your hand. He must’ve thought you were crazy for laughing or extremely rude.

It’s frustrating how nervous you can be in front of your crushes.

“Hi—sorry…” You managed to quiet your laughs and awkwardly sip your drink. The words began flying out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop. “I was thinking about how you remind me of Flynn Rider from Tangled. How are you?”

“Tangled?” Luke tilted his head in confusion. Oh gods, has this boy never experience Disney movies? This just made it even more terribly awkward if he didn’t get the reference.

“Y’know…the girl with the glowing hair locked in a tower until Flynn Rider gets her out to see the lanterns in exchange for the crown?” You explained.

“Oh! Rapunzel.” Luke nodded. “Yeah I remember that. I always loved the lantern scene.”

“Me too! I’ve always wanted to experience something like that.” You agreed and looked over at the bonfire. Silena and Beckendorf encouraging you to keep talking to him.

Though Luke and you fell silent. Your mind wracking topics to talk about with him, but all you can think of is how handsome he is. Now looks aren’t everything, but his personality was a gorgeous as Elysium.

“Gods, you are just so handsome.” You find yourself admitting without even thinking about it. You find the words to talk to him about anything and everything, but your stumble.

Luke grabbed your arm. Stars dotting your vision. The “liquid courage” Silena forced down your throat catching up to you. “Hey, I think that’s enough drinking. Yeah?”

“Yeah…” You mumble as Luke leads you away from the bonfire and towards your cabin.

“Let’s get you back to your bunk, yeah? S’not good to be so drunk now.” He cared enough to walk you back to your cabin! It left a warm feeling in your body, or that was the Dionysus twins’ special drink.

The cabin door creaks open and Luke procures some water. You drink it as Luke crouches to get your converse off. Again, your heart is warm inside, but that could just be the alcohol.

Luke laid your blanket over your body. An amused smirk on his face. He found you drunk, cute. So, he decides to admit something hoping you’d remember tomorrow. You’re already half asleep when you hear this.

“I think you’re cute too. Let’s start out with watching Tangled first before we do anything, yeah?” Luke laughed quietly, trying not to wake your siblings. He wanted it to take it slow with you. Was this some drunk dream?

“Yeah…” You find yourself mumbling. Your eyes drooping shut before opening again. Struggling to stay awake to keep talking to Luke, you fall asleep.

Silena was a damn good Cupid.

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#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan pjo #pjo series #luke castellan imagine #percy series

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sevgilimsatoru · 2 months ago

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Error 410 Author's Note (Updated!)

Hi! So, as I said before this is the author's note for the Error 410 fanfic. There are a lot of things that will be included in this note. But I will divide it into sections so it's easier for everyone (including myself)

This is very important in terms of the story, please read it. And this is the full thing. I have added the things which were left to include.

You can scroll down and read whichever part you are most interested in or read all of it, it depends on what you prefer.

Writing in Error 410

The Error 410 was written as a self- indulgent fanfic. I didn't expect anyone other than @ittybittyfanblog to read this story so all this support is appreciated. I feel like you all will get tired of hearing it but I'm so thankful to everyone who reads my stories. And I love you all. It really does make my day knowing that people like my work.

I started this series on 11th of April and it ended on 1st of May. If I hadn't taken that week long break, I feel like it would've ended earlier. And there are so many people who like my posts and read this story. It's unbelievable so thank you again.

I'd say my style of writing is mostly spontaneous, I do plan things but in the end what I will write, add or remove from the story is just based on what is going through my mind at that moment.

There were a lot of things that I wanted to flesh out and add which I couldn't exactly because of the reason I just stated and I will try to do better on this aspect.

But I'll probably try and flesh it out more in spin off series.

Non MC Reader

I never did give much thought to the Non Mc Reader because it was a self indulgent fic, she is very much based on me and my personal experiences.

I've had crushes and obsessions over fictional characters but at the end of the day, I could never fully find comfort in those fictional characters because a part of mind was always telling me that it wasn't real and the comfort I want is never gonna be given to me. That's why I always wanted to keep this feeling of detachment between them slowly turning into affection though I'm not sure if I was properly able to portray it.

Non MC Reader's looks

I do have a certain image of her in my mind which is the Non Mc Reader being underweight.

Of course it doesn't matter. You can imagine her looking any way you want when you read the story.

I have seen a lot of fanarts with MC and official arts. They are always so perfectly skinny. Chubby MC fanarts are rare and very adorable, I love them. But there is absolutely no representation for being underweight.

It is something I want to see represented more.

Non MC Reader's Backstory

Non MC Reader's Backstory isn't something I have thought about but I can give you a few things I kept in mind while writing her.

Non MC Reader doesn't really have a great relationship with her parents. She loves them and they love her and care for her but things still aren't working out.

She comes from a background where sex is a very hushed topic and as a woman, having sexual urges would always be very looked down upon which is the reason for her disgust towards being hypersexual.

Hypersexuality

Hypersexuality referred to as compulsive sexual behavior or sex addiction. It describes an intense focus on sexual fantasies, urges or behaviors that are difficult to control and cause distress.

It's a condition characterized by an excessive amount of time spent on sexual thoughts and activities, often to the point of neglecting other important areas of life.

Why was it included?

I feel like there are going to be people who aren't exactly sure why the Non MC reader was written to be Hypersexual in the fanfic.

There are a few reasons for it :-

Basically lack of representation.

The sexualization of this behavior.

I have said this before but hypersexuality is a very hush topic even in safe spaces for victims. There is this ideology of a 'perfect victim' which is someone docile and terrified, is repulsed by sex and the idea of it but there are people who are on the other side of spectrum.

They aren't given any recognition or comfort because they don't fit in this idea of how victims should act. Because of it, they are often shunned out and made to feel disgusted with themselves.

Hypersexuality being the way for the brain to cope is also a way for a person to fall into the pattern of self-triggering which isn't healthy at all.

The sexualization of being Hypersexual pisses me off the most because no, it's not sexy. It's not hot and it's not something for you to fetishize about. It's something that ruins people's lives, makes them feel disgusted with themselves and their body.

It has and continues to be a problem for me every single second of everyday and it's annoying, really annoying.

How does it feel being Hypersexual?

The best way I can describe it is by thinking of it as an itch. An itch that doesn't go away, no matter how many times you scratch it. It's always there and you want to scratch it but you can't do it every single second of your day and if you keep doing it, the skin will eventually get red and it'll start to hurt.

It's there and you just want to keep indulging it. It's starts with just one and then you just keep doing it for hours and in the end, you just feel so dirty and disgusting and guilty.

The only thing that actually seems to have some sort of value is your body.

The feeling is good but when that feeling goes away- all you can feel is guilt, anger, exhaustion. I mean how much can you indulge in this when you have college or a job or whatever that includes being around other people?

And if you are not around other people and bored then the urge gets stronger.

One more thing that I have heard and experienced is the sort of fear of sexual relationships. I know it's very ironic to be hypersexual and being scared of having sex.

There is always this fear in your mind that you are nothing more than how attractive your body is or how "useful" you are, how attractive you are.

And this fear leads to thought like "what if they don't find you attractive?" or "what if sex is all they want from you and then they are going to leave," at the back of your mind , when you do really like someone romantically.

It's so hard to be sexually active with your partner because it is something you think about a lot and want to do but it's also something you are scared to do because of those thoughts.

Still this is just my personal experience, I'm sure it's different for others.

Caleb

The passage between The Love and Deepspace world and the reader's world.

The passage between these two worlds is something I have thought about and what I was able to come up with was that there are two one-way passages between their worlds. One to leave the world and one to enter. I call them Promethean Passages.

So, let's just say the promethean passage to leave the world of Love and Deep space is Passage (1) and the promethean passage to enter the world of Love and Deep space is Passage (2)

The passage (1) is very hard to find, it has a fixed location in the world of Love and Deep space while the passage (2) is easier to find in the world of Love and Deepspace compared to passage (1) the location they appear is often random, and it is unclear how long they stay in one spot.

You can't go back if you enter one of those passages or tunnels and if something goes wrong, you are stuck there until your body ceases to exist.

I had planned to include it but I wasn't able to so that's why I think it's better to say it here.

As for how and where those tunnels are usually located, it'll be explained more in the spin off.

Caleb's evol

There was a part of me that wanted to keep Caleb's evol in reader's world but there are certain changes that happen to the people's bodies or abilities traveling through those Promethean Passages. As for the reason why the happens, it's in the fun facts.

He doesn't have his evol in reader's world and Caleb had to get used it. Because something like controlling gravity tends to come in handy a lot and he had learn to not depend on that anymore during the time he was studying to become a pilot in reader's world.

Potential self awareness in the other characters in Caleb's universe?

It is a reasonable thing to think that the other characters might become self aware because of the information they received from Caleb but I believe it was sort of different in this specific scenario.

When Caleb went to talk to MC, let's see it from her perspective. You have a friend you grew up with and love.

For a while now, he has been acting strange and you are sure he isn't mentally stable and then he comes to your house after months of not talking and tells you that he has a girlfriend in another universe and wants your help to travel to where his girlfriend is.

MC was really concerned for his mental state at that point. She talked to Sylus about this and he was able to find one of the Promethean Passages through his connections but it wasn't the one that Caleb wanted.

So, to answer your question, I do think it was start for MC and Sylus to be self aware but because Caleb is a very integral part of that world, when he left- his universe basically collapsed since a very important piece was suddenly missing.

That information was the start of a very important and enlightening knowledge and I'm sure Sylus would've tried to study more about Promethean Passages, even try talk Caleb about his mysterious girlfriend.

But unfortunately for Sylus and MC in Caleb's world, they weren't given enough time to really understand everything to the point Caleb did.

Caleb's metal arm/ prosthetic arm

Before I talk about it, I did want to include a prosthetic arm for Caleb in this fanfic and there are a few reasons why I didn't.

First of all, I don't want to represent something in my work that I do not have full knowledge upon or haven't experienced myself. I believe that fake and wrong representation is more harmful than no representation and maybe it is controversial to have that opinion.

But if I'm going to include and represent something in my work, I want to know and understand it fully. I don't want to half ass it or include it just for the sake of inclusion.

I did research on prosthetic arms and the type of prosthetic that Caleb has is known as Shoulder Disarticulation Prosthesis

Shoulder Disarticulation Prosthesis is relatively rare, while upper limb amputations are not uncommon, amputations occurring at the shoulder, including shoulder disarticulation and forequarter amputation, are less frequent.

The prosthesis for Shoulder Disarticulation do exist but they are not as common or available as the prosthetics for other amputations. The only prosthesis that I found even remotely similar to Caleb's prosthetic is from Prosthetic Innovations, LLC

The thing I was most confused about was if Caleb should keep the metal arm he already has or get a new one when he travels to the reader's world.

The new prosthetic arm wouldn't obviously be as technically advanced as the one Caleb has and a shoulder disarticulation prosthesis can range from $60,000 to $70,000 or even higher and Caleb wouldn't have the means to afford it for years.

And if he were to travel to reader's world with his prosthetic arm then neither of them would have the means for any update or repair of his metal/prosthetic arm which would make things really hard.

So, I decided against it in the end. I hope you all can understand my reasons and I will learn more about prosthetics so that I can include proper representation in my work.

FUN FACTS

Promethean Passages is something I named after the characteristics of one of the titans; Prometheus.

I read his greek myth (I don't know why) and what I personally believe is that his myth basically tells us that to have a prize you always have to sacrifice something in return and I really wanted to include that in my story.

Error 410 also known as a 410 Gone error is an HTTP status code, it means that the requested resource is permanently unavailable on your server and it has been intentionally removed.

I wanted the title to fit the story and the theme, I hope I did a good enough job.

Along with the quotes at the beginnings of the chapters, they were written to symbolize the feelings or the theme of the specific chapter. If some of you like re-read my fanfic, I hope those quotes were something fun to read.

END

Okay, that's all the questions I have gotten about this fic and I'm writing a spin off along with a few other stories or drabbles. I hope you like those and again, thank you all for reading my work. I really appreciate it. Have a nice day!

Tag list: @browneyedgirl22 @aneertawrites @etsuniiru @demon-master-zero @angstylittleb1tch @mcdepressed290 @ittybittyfanblog @winwinwrites @alifyairl @huhleighna @calebsbeanpeeler @bookworrm1999 @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @babyx91 @multisstuff @beomluvrr @sunnylittleapple @lunia-likes-pomegranet @imhere2dosomething @lostpsycho13 @april-likes-smut @calebsbabyapple @mephisto-with-a-knife @wooasecret @anatherone @asgardiancoffemaker @sadsaidthesadthing @beppybeesnuggets @lilacflower667 @mangooes @sunnyx07 @30jades

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dalessandrablog · 1 month ago

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My theories on love triangles in Bridgerton IV

Needless to say, the teaser brought back my full-blown Bridgerton mania.

I actually got into the show while reading Benedict’s book, so you can imagine—his love story with Sophie is by far my favorite.

As a Cinderella fan, how could it not be?

Anyway, after going through a few fandom opinions and theories about what’s still to come... I started wondering if, in this case, a love triangle might actually work well.

At this point, we know the show loves to include that little spark of jealousy from the male leads—and honestly, I have to laugh thinking about people who said months ago that it wouldn’t suit Benedict. (Myself included)

The teaser showed the exact opposite—and he didn’t even present himself yet!

In the book, Benedict is torn between Sophie and the mysterious “lady in silver,” who’s actually her in disguise—but there are a few things that make me think we might be getting a proper third wheel this time… if not a fourth.

They’ve confirmed we’ll be seeing more of the Bridgerton household staff (especially since Sophie becomes one of them), and Rosamund—rather than just being a stereotypical “evil stepsister” like in the book—is apparently willing to do anything to win over Benedict.

Now, I’m not saying Michelle Mao and Yerin Ha look identical, but… considering the hair color, their height, and the fact that the lady in silver wears a mask that hides most of her face… I immediately thought Rosamund might try to pass herself off as her.

Honestly, it could work. They need drama.

But I’d be really annoyed if this Cinderella story turned into a Little Mermaid situation.

And knowing they’re currently filming in a church… I really hope it’s for Benedict and Sophie’s wedding and not a scene where he’s about to marry the wrong woman.

A “So it was you all along” moment would be so cringe to me. I’d much rather have a reveal more in line with the book.

I hope I’m wrong about that theory—but not the second one.

Because I’m definitely not the only one who’s thought of this:

Benedict being jealous of Footman John.

We’ve seen way too much of him in spoilers for it to be nothing.

And he doesn’t even have to be a real love interest for Sophie!

He just has to be a possibility.

Let’s be real—Benedict has had four official love interests over the course of the series. Not a bad choice, and it actually fits the “bohemian artist” vibe they’ve given him in the show.

In the books, he’s experienced, but not a full-on libertine like Michael, Anthony, or Simon.

It works, and it makes his offer to Sophie (to become his mistress) more understandable. But it also creates a huge imbalance between them romantically.

Neither Kate, Penelope, nor Daphne had any real romantic or sexual experience before their husbands, and with Sophie… it’s hard to believe she’s had any.

First, she literally wouldn’t have time.

In the book, Araminta never gives her days off, and I doubt that’ll change. Sophie’s only real escape is through books.

Second, she doesn’t want illegitimate children.

She wouldn’t risk it. She doesn’t even do it with Benedict—why would she with someone else?

Also, her strength and sense of self-worth in the book are exactly what make her so special in Benedict’s eyes.

That trait, to me, is non-negotiable—because otherwise you’re completely changing the core of her character.

I’d love to see a version of Sophie more like Danielle from Ever After (though book Sophie already reminded me of her).

Someone who can stand up for herself when needed, but who’s also fragile and deeply yearning for a family to love her, and a partner who sees her for who she really is.

Before I go off too much about how I want to see Yerin Ha wield a fencing sword for any reason whatsoever, let’s go back to Footman John.

Honestly, I don’t think there’ll be any real flirting between him and Sophie—but since they’ll be working together, it’s impossible that some kind of bond won’t form.

Some people think John will have a crush on Sophie’s new maid friend—and I agree.

But Benedict could easily misread the whole thing.

And that fear of losing Sophie might be exactly what he needs to feel.

Sure, Benedict’s faced rejection before, but when it comes to love, he’s always kind of won anyway.

He’s a privileged noble (and I love Benedict, don’t get me wrong), but I do want to see him suffer a bit after making us wait this long for his season.

So how does a man like that deal with the idea that he could lose the woman he loves to someone who has less to offer?

Because that’s the point.

Benedict thinks he can give her more—protection, a roof over her head, fine clothes—but in secret.

Meanwhile, John, who comes from the same social class as Sophie, could offer her marriage, legitimate children, and not wealth, no—but a love she doesn’t have to hide.

And those are the things Sophie actually wants.

She doesn’t care about Benedict’s money—she wants love and the peace of knowing her children are protected by a name.

That realization—that someone else could give her what she wants more than he can—might finally force Benedict to reconsider his proposal, realize how unfair he’s being, and decide, yes, this woman is worth more than any society that always felt like a cage to him anyway.

And if it turns out John was never into Sophie at all? That would honestly be hilarious.

Now, I’m not the showrunner, obviously, but if they must go the love triangle route, something like this?

I’d be totally on board.

Whether I’m right or not… time will tell.

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 4 #benedict bridgerton #sophie baek #benophie #benophie season #luke thompson #yerin ha #bridgerton theory #fandom analysis #love triangle #sophie beckett #an offer from a gentleman #shondaland #bridgerton family #netflix #character development #sophie x benedict #benedict x sophie

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hysterotic · 1 year ago

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✩ 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶𝑲𝒀𝑶 𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑿 𝑭𝑬𝑴!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬 : horror erotica, campy/corny, comedy.

⚠︎ : vulgar language, drugs and alcohol, cabin party, lots and lots of sexual tension, get referred to as “new girl” a lot, cute little scene with kazutora, minor stalking, fluff, super corny, nothing bad happens, i took this chapter idea from bodies bodies bodies.

<3 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 : baji keisuke, hanma shuji, kazutora hanemiya, tiny bit of mitsuya takashi.

𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑷 (𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻) | 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 | 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰𝑰

it was late october, halloween weekend to be exact. it was cold and breezy but hopefully nothing that could stop you from wearing something skimpy to the trip—something emma would definitely suggest.

“ugh, not a single mini skirt in sight. what are you, a nun?” she mutters, elbow-deep in your black duffle bag covered in heart-eyed skulls.

you ignore her, half-buried in your closet looking for the swimsuit you bought months ago and forgot existed—literally the only reason you ever justified spending that much on something that covers so little.

instead, you pull out another one. not the one you were thinking of, but still cute. turning around to ask for her opinion, you pause mid-sentence. noticing emma’s new hair-do, almost dropping the swimsuits. “oh my god, you curled your hair…”

she tosses it dramatically, making the curls bounce like she’s in a shampoo commercial. “super cute, no?”

“i can’t believe it…” you say, marveling at how gorgeous her curls look compared to her usual straightened hair.

“but super cute, right? hurry up with the “super cute” ‘cause i’m getting insecure now.”

“no, no! it looks amazing. draken’s gonna lose it.”

she playfully twirls a curl around her finger. “i know.”

“okay, but which one? this black two-piece or this red one with the skirt? don’t choose the black ‘cause it’s sluttier.”

emma shoots you a look before yanking the black two-piece out of your hands and stuffing it into your bag. “you’ll thank me for this. and if you get lucky with keisuke… maybe you won’t be wearing it for long.”

of course she’d bring him up.

your dumb little crush on keisuke baji started like a week ago. three photos and a scorpio sun sign were all it took for your brain to short-circuit. you’ve never even met the guy. never passed him on campus. don’t know what his voice sounds like. but he’s hot, in that very specific way that makes you feel like he’d ignore you on purpose just to watch you squirm.

and now he’s coming on the trip. great.

“if you treat this trip like some kind of reality dating show, i’m not talking to you,” you warn, collapsing onto your bed as she continues digging through your stuff.

“relax, i’m not pushing anything,” she lies, holding up the tiniest black skirt you own. “we’re so packing this.”

“where the hell did you even find that?”

“i bought it for you forever ago. why have i never seen you wear it?”

you hesitate. “just… didn’t get the chance.”

“well, congrats. here’s your chance.” she starts tossing anything remotely modest out of your bag, not even checking what she’s throwing. including your most boring underwear. the cotton, full-coverage, ‘i’m-on-my-period-leave-me-alone’ type.

she turns to you, “seriously? what’s the point in wearing underwear if you’re not gonna show it off.” she tugs on her baby blue thong straps that are sticking out of her low-waisted jeans, making it snap on her hips. she then walks toward your closet and starts going through it again.

you stand up to put your clothes back in your bag. “just ‘cause you’re gonna be wearing skimpy clothes this weekend doesn’t mean i should too.”

“uh, yes, you should,” she says matter-of-factly, her voice slightly muffled as she’s nose-deep in your closet. “that’s like rule number one of girl code.”

“says who?” you respond, organizing your bag enough to fit more clothes, not realizing that someone is looming behind you to scare you, preparing to pull a prank.

“says me,” a muffled voice speaks from behind. you roll your eyes and turn around, expecting to see emma. instead, you come face-to-face with a man wearing a ghostface mask.

you yelp in horror, stumbling backward and falling into a chair, which tips over. he scoffs in surprise, pulling the ghostface mask off. “shit, didn’t expect a reaction like that,” mikey says, sticking a hand out to help you up, clearly holding in a laugh. “thought i was the real thing?”

you glare at him and stand up on your own, pulling the chair and your bag up from the floor. “thought you were emma, actually.”

“emma? i sound like a girl to you?” his voice drops an octave, trying to sound more intimidating but really just coming off as overly dramatic.

emma, not realizing what just happened or who walked in, throws a thong your way for you to pack, which lands on mikey’s head. he turns to face where it came from and sees the thong string dangling in front of his eyes. he hums questioningly as he grabs it and starts to examine it.

you snatch it out of his hand and quickly shove it into your bag. “you shouldn’t joke around about it when he’s still active.” you grab the mask out of his hand and throw it on your bed, where it lands on top of a plushie, making it look like the toy is wearing it.

“you should get that stick out of your ass before we leave.” mikey points at you as he approaches your bed, picking up the plushie and removing the mask from its head.

“mikey, i’m serious!”

“oh, she’s serious. did you know that she’s serious?” he talks to the plushie, pointing a finger at you for emphasis.

“manjiro, give her back,” you deadpan.

“oh, it’s a her? huh… you mind?” he leans his mouth closer to the plushie and starts to playfully make out with it, clearly trying to piss you off even more.

“seriously, mikey, grow up!” you say, exasperated, as you reach for the plushie. he holds it out of your reach.

emma finally looks over with a bunch of thongs and outfits in hand, noticing the commotion. “what’s going on here?”

“mikey’s being a jackass,” you say, crossing your arms.

“oh, nothing new then,” emma replies. she walks over and takes the plushie from mikey, throwing it back on your bed. “come on, we have to finish packing.” she shoves the clothes into your chest. “once again, you’re gonna thank me.” you push it down into your bag before mikey gets nosy again.

“thank her for what?” you hear a voice behind you say. from emma’s excited reaction and how her eyes sparkle at his sight, you take a good guess on who it is. you turn around, proving yourself right.

emma jumps into his arms, hugging him as if she hadn’t seen him a couple hours ago before coming here. she lets him go, standing still to let him admire her new curls. he furrows his brows in amusement as she runs her hand down his chest.

“hey, kinda seein’ this chick, she looks just like you, but with straight hair. i was thinking, y’know… maybe we could—”

“you think i sound like a girl, ken?” mikey interrupts, standing between the two wearing a ghostface mask.

draken clicks his tongue in irritation at mikey, not even looking at him. “you’re about to,” he mutters threateningly, his eyes rolling over to you. he looks down, noticing that you aren’t wearing any pants, standing there in your lace lavender panties with a cute lil bow in the front” that’s what you’re wearing to our trip?” he says sarcastically, mikey following his gaze as well, somehow not noticing that you weren’t wearing pants this whole time.

confused, you look down and realize that you are, in fact, not wearing any pants. “oh my god, get out! both of you!” you start to push draken and mikey out of the room, closing the door behind them.

through the door, you hear draken’s voice. “alright, but wrap it up quick, we gotta leave in a couple.”

emma snorts. “real smooth. now c’mon!” she shoves a couple more outfits she picked down your bag, winking at you. she finally grabs her bags and walks out of your room.

you quickly put on dark jean shorts with bedazzled back pockets in the shape of skulls. you slip your shoes on, zip your bag closed, and carry it on your shoulder. finally, you walk out of the house, finding them on the sidewalk, putting the bags in the van.

he places the second bag emma packed in the far back of the van. “y’know, emma, it’s only a week, not an evacuation.”

she clings to his arm with a wide smile. “trust me when i say that there’s nothing in those cases you won’t be glad i brought.”

draken smirks at the thought as he picks up the third one. “i’m shuttin�� right up.”

mikey grabs your bag off your shoulder and places it next to the rest. “that all?”

“yeah, i hope so,” you reply as you crawl into the van.

mikey hops in the passenger seat, emma crawls in the back, and draken finally finishes strapping up the bikes on the back of the van and gets in the driver’s seat last. the car finally pulls away from the spot, driving off towards the destination with a map in hand.

“there is a scourge in our society, my brothers and sisters, the evil that is heavy metal rock music is resolute, unwavering in its goal to corrupt our children’s souls.” the pastor’s eerie voice crackles through the old static-filled vintage tv behind the gas station register. the voice of the pastor is slow and deliberate as the white haired cashier was sat back, nodding at the screen.

you walk around the store with a strawberry-flavored sour lollipop in your mouth, your eyes subconsciously glued to the newspaper shelves all the way in the back. you stride towards them, grabbing the first one you see. the headline reads, “teens slain for satanic rituals on a forest campsite.”

of course you had to read that type of headline while on the way to a campsite, the perfect thing to top off your paranoia. you continue to read the headline, seeing the pictures of symbols that were carved into the victims flesh, evidence of the dark rituals that were placed in the camp, and the stories about the camp being haunted and how it haunts. the more you read the more your stomach churns, this isn’t helping your paranoia at all. then a terrifying detail lands in your eyes: it’s the exact camp location your on your way to, but they changed its name for this fucking reason.

“boo!” emma jumps in front of you, breaking your train of thought, you roll up the newspaper and swat at her. “fuck! you cunt,” you breathe out.

“damn, you’re so tense today,” she says, you furrow your brows, giving her a side-eye.

“ohh, yeah, totally not because we’re gonna be sleeping over at a cabin in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees, with barely any service, while a serial killer is still active. It’s not like this week is a horror movie adaptation waiting to happen,” you reply sarcastically as you stuff the rolled newspaper on your pocket, contemplating if you should tell her about this or not.

emma takes her time to chew on whatever’s in her mouth before responding. “see, thinking like that is just gonna make you paranoid. we’re supposed to have fun! it’s a halloween party, loosen up, maybe mikey was right about that stick in the ass thing.” she mumbles the last part as she grabs a couple of ultra beer bottles and walks over to the register, placing them on the counter.

“you see, these bands, with their shrieking guitars and pounding drums, do not merely entertain; they indoctrinate. they spread messages of rebellion against god, promoting the worship of evil and the destruction of morality. lyrics that speak of death, murder, destruction, and depravity are whispered into the ears of our youth, leading them down a dark path from which there is no return.” says the overdramatic pastor through the old tv.

it’s so ridiculous how people can’t wrap their heads around a serial killer just killing to kill, they always have to find something to blame it on. their favorite most of all is “metal music” and “satanism”, completely avoiding the fact that pastors can be just as worse as anybody else. ugh, so fucking corny. you roll your eyes at his nonsense blabbering as you grab a couple of snacks and place them on the register counter with emma’s, including the newspaper.

you pull out your lollipop with a pop! sound, “oh, and include whatever’s in her mouth,” you say, pointing at emma with your lollipop as she playfully starts to chew faster with her mouth shut, forcing the old guy to guess. he does nothing but stare at her, as if waiting for her to pull out the empty bag from her back pocket. she rolls her eyes, giving up on the fact that he’s not in the mood to fuck around, and places the empty bag of gushers on the counter.

“ID?” the cashier says with a gruff voice.

she blinks rapidly at him, “seriously?” emma asks. the cashier continues to silently stare at her with a deadpan expression. she turns toward you, and you shrug. “didn’t bring my wallet on this trip.”

“i’m gonna call over draken, wait here.” she walks out toward the gas pump where the rest of the guys are, leaving you alone with the creepy man, listening to the pastor’s gibberish through the tv screen,

“ghostface is not an isolated incident. he is the tragic, inevitable product of a society that has turned its back on the lord and embraced the wickedness of satanic music. parents, i implore you, cast out these demonic influences from your homes! break the CDs, delete the MP3s, and forbid your children from partaking in this unholy noise!” the pastor continues. the creepy cashier’s eyes bore into you so intensely, you kept your eyes on the door, waiting for emma and draken, ignoring the way he’s staring at you as if your who the pastor’s talking about—completely forgetting that you’re wearing a slipknot baby tee.

they finally walk in with mikey trailing behind. he quickly grabs a couple of snacks of his choice, while draken hands the man his ID. “how many packs of beer you got?”

“like two packs?” emma responds.

draken turns around and yells out for mikey. “mikey, grab two more packs of beer!”

mikey heads back to the fridge. emma leans against the counter, drumming her pink stiletto nails on the counter impatiently. the cashier, still watching the TV, mutters something under his breath something about the end times and the corruption of youth.

draken looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “you okay?”

you nod and hum in response, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that’s been gnawing at you since preparing for this trip, since you read that newspaper headline.

mikey returns with the beer, and the cashier rings up the total, still muttering to himself. as you all head out with bags in your hands. the pastor’s voice on the TV follows you, “heed my warning, close your doors and lock your windows. for the devil walks among us.”

“you’re so lying.” emma speaks with a slight muffle from her applying her pink lip gloss through her baby blue sparkly heart-shaped compact mirror.

“what?” you ask.

she snaps the mirror shut and turns to you, putting her lipgloss wand back in the tube screwing it in, “i said so you’re lying, you’re full of shit.” she says it slowly now, enunciating every word as if she’s talking to someone stupid.

“it’s literally written on a newspaper, how in the hell would i lie about that.”

emma grabs the newspaper and chucks it out of draken’s open window. “that is just something to scare the tourists with.” she starts rummaging through her makeup bag, grabbing a few touch-ups. crawling onto your lap, she hovers over your thighs to fix your makeup. “you’re just looking for excuses to pussy out because of that masked killer.” she opens a blush wand, tilts your chin up, and applies it to your cheeks.

you can see draken staring at you through the rearview mirror, noticing his brow furrowing in thought, but he remains silent, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“those incidents happened ages ago. the paper probably dug up some old story to scare people.” mikey adds as he crosses his arms behind his head, propping his feet on the dashboard.

“i think we should tell her.” draken interjects.

“tell me what?” you reply, your voice slightly muffled as emma puts lip tint on your lips while holding your chin still.

“she doesn’t know that it’s ghostface themed?” mikey blurts out from the passenger’s seat, causing everyone to groan.

you pull back from emma’s touch, frowning. “wait, what do you mean ghostface-themed?”

mikey sighs, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just a theme the guys thought would be fun, It’s no big deal.”

“not a big deal? you could have told me!” you exclaim, this trip’s is seriously sounding like a horror movie adaption waiting to happen, a lesson on what not to do when a serial killer is fucking active. “is that why you brought your little ghostface mask with you?” you look toward mikey, he attempts to calm you down with a laid-back smile.

“look, we didn’t wanna freak you out. but mikey’s right, it’s just a theme for the halloween party. we’ll be fine.” emma reassures. “if some old ghost story is the worst thing we have to worry about, I’d say we’re doing pretty good.”

“you sayin’ the camp might be haunted?” draken glances at emma. “it is.” you respond instead.

“i’m gettin’ a little freaked out now.” mikey mocks as he clutches draken’s bicep, he quickly shoves mikey from him, “don’t start.”

bikes line the sidewalk as they pull up to the camp. “this it?” draken leans his head down from the driver’s seat to get a better look at the sign.

while distracted, he slams into an unknown bike. “shit, whose bike was that?” mikey winces.

“couldn’t recognize it,” draken mumbles as he parks the van, stepping out of it, his eyes scanning the row of bikes. “keisuke, kazutora, and matsuno are here, mitsuya, pah-chin and peh-yan, the twins, the rest I dunno.”

you grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder. as you’re about to step out, draken extends his hand to help you and emma out of the van, giving him room to unload it.

“this place is… something.” you shield your eyes from the sun as you check out the giant knife-shaped sign on the entrance of the camp; it reads: “camp terror ridge.”

“I know, right? It’s gonna be killer.” emma bumps her shoulder against yours, a grin spreading across her face.

“guess so.” you twirl, taking in the forest surrounding it.

draken walks over, carrying emma’s bags with ease, his muscles flexing under the weight. “let’s get to the cabins.”

draken leads the way, towering over most of the campers as he carries emma’s bags. you maneuver through the crowd, red solo cups litter the floors that you almost trip over, dodging two shirtless curly-haired guys who look like twins. one with baby blue hair who seems pissed, and the other peach with a cheshire smile on his face, chasing each other.

as you reach the girls’ cabin, draken stops and sets emma’s bags down at the front door. The cabin looks cozy from the outside, with fairy lights hanging from the eaves. You tune out whatever Draken’s saying to emma, even though it could be important, as you look around the camp.

you notice mikey talking to somebody, specifically. keisuke baji, and the two other guys standing next to him, one with a wolf cut highlighted with yellow-blonde on the top, and the other’s a cute blonde with an undercut.

you watch keisuke leaning against the tree with his arms crossed, his biceps unknowingly flexing. he’s even hotter than those blurry photos emma showed you; you couldn’t get your eyes off his arms until you notice his head cocking to the side. you glance up at him, meeting eyes with amber-colored ones. fuck, he caught you staring at him. the undercut guy notices keisuke’s eyes on you and glances at you too.

then suddenly, emma grabs your elbow and drags you inside the cabin with her, telling draken that we’ll see them in a couple. keisuke unfortunately disappears from your eyesight.

the floor creaks slightly underfoot. the air inside the cabin is cool and carries a faint scent of pine and aged wood. in the corner of your eyes, you see a row full of ghostface masks hung on the wall right next to the front door. is there one in each cabin?

the cabin is modest in size, with ten single beds lined up against the walls, arranged in five rows across from each other, leaving a narrow aisle in the center for walking. each one has simple, black blankets and pillows. right next to the beds, there’s a small wooden nightstand with a soft nightlight on each one. looks like you’re gonna have that on for the night.

“is that hina?” emma cuts in, pulling your attention toward the occupied bed with peach pink hair sticking out. Takemichi, sitting by Hina’s bed, suddenly stands up at the sight of you and Emma. His face turns red with embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry!” he stammers, clearly ashamed to be caught in the girls’ cabin. “I was just checking on hina. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

you both approach it, with emma beating you to it first. she gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, takemichi.” she moves hina’s hair to the side and touches her forehead. “you okay, hina?” emma whispers.

hina mumbles something incoherent that only emma hears. She turns to you. “she’s caught a cold from the lake,” she says, caressing hina’s hair softly. “hopefully you’ll be good by tomorrow. need me to bring you something hot?”

hina shakes her head, her eyes still closed. “it’s okay, yuzuha brought me soup.”

“yuzuha’s here?” you interject.

“yeah, everybody’s here, they’re all at the lake right now,” takemichi replies instead.

“okay then, rest up, i already miss you too much for you to be sleeping the whole week away.”

she then looks toward takemichi. “you gonna stay with her?” from which he immediately nods as a response, sitting down beside hina. “If you guys don’t mind me being here…” he scratches the back of his neck.

emma tosses her bag onto one of the beds. “we’d prefer that actually, make sure she eats, okay?” she then turns to you with a grin. “put on your swimsuit! we’re hittin’ the lake!”

you weave through the dense forest with emma following behind, the towering trees casting long shadows. the air is thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves, and the forest floor is a carpet of roots and fallen branches, making you regret leaving without slippers on. sunlight barely filters through, creating an eerie, twilight ambiance.

“are we even going the right way?” emma asks as she glances around, trying to find any sign of the lake.

“i hope so,” you reply. the path seems to twist and turn endlessly, each direction looking almost identical to the last.

the sounds of the forest are all around you. the rustling of leaves, the distant calls of birds, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. it sounds peaceful in the mornings but must be eerie as hell at night. you both continue forward, stepping over tangled roots and ducking under low-hanging branches; a couple scratch your arm but not deep enough for an infection.

“i swear we should have hit the lake by now,” emma mutters, stopping to catch her breath. “did we take a wrong turn?”

just as you’re about to agree, you hear footsteps from behind. you both turn, seeing somebody approaching. a lilac-haired guy with a mullet cut. he lifts a branch out of the way, revealing another guy behind him, one with a blue-haired buzz cut with some sort of spiral design on the side of his head and a scar on his lip. unlike the shirtless one, he’s wearing an unbuttoned blue plaid shirt.

“lost your way to the lake?” the guy with the lilac hair questions with a smile, placing his hands on his hips. the one with blue hair hides behind him shyly, though it’s pretty hard to because of his height, his eyes darting between you and emma, careful not to look down at your bathing suits.

emma nods. “yeah, we followed the sign in the camp, but the direction is so vague.”

“c’mon, we’re heading there.” he offers, nodding toward the path you and emma were originally heading to.

you and emma exchange a quick glance before deciding to follow them. mitsuya slows down his steps so you can keep up, giving him a chance to take a good look at you, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. you keep your eyes forward, pretending not to notice.

“you’re a new face.” he tilts his head to look at you better, or to put himself in your eyesight. you realize how gorgeous he is up close, his eyebrow slits throwing you off because of his soft-looking face, but it adds up so well. you notice the thick hoop earring with a cross on it on one of his ears, something you’d definitely wear too. just as you’re about to introduce yourself, emma cuts in, “she’s my best friend. ken and mikey might’ve mentioned her a couple times.” she nudges you softly, giving you the chance to introduce yourself.

after you tell him your name, a slight recognition clicks in his brain. “yeah, heard a thing or two. i’m mitsuya takashi. that one right there’s hakkai shiba. he’s shy but he’ll come around.” the blue-haired guy remains silent the entire time, occasionally glancing at you and emma but quickly looking away when caught.

a faint sound catches your attention. straining to hear over the rustling of leaves, it’s the distinct sound of water splashing, accompanied by music, sounding like they’re playing “glamorous lifestyle” by the jacka. you all follow it, the music getting louder now.

when you finally reach the lake, you see the rest of the group already there. mitsuya turns to face you again before leaving. “see you ‘round.”

yeah, definitely seeing him around.

the shoreline is dotted with towels and coolers full of the beer draken got earlier. in the corner of your eye, you spot a blonde guy with baby blue highlights and a tattoo on the right side of his back and chest, beginning from his nape and ending at his foot. you almost mistook him for a merman.

you watch as he’s hanging onto a rope from a tree, his feet kick out as he swings toward the lake, letting go at the peak of the swing and plunging into the water with a loud splash that unfortunately hits another guy who was sunbathing, with the same tattoo mirrored on the left side of his body. he removes his now-wet sunglasses from his eyes to shoot him a glare. the merman resurfaces, shaking the water from his hair mesmerizingly, so far, your eyes are getting very spoiled today.

nearby, a couple of guys are in a rowboat, paddling lazily. suddenly, someone emerges from beneath the water, looks like senju, and pushes the boat down, causing it to tip over and the guys to scramble.

you notice yuzuha approaching you both, shielding her eyes from the sun as she runs toward you, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you into a tight, wet hug. “you made it!” she squeezes.

a couple of guys walk past, jokingly muttering a “damn, what about me?”

never mind. eyes no longer spoiled. yuzuha shoots them a quick glare.

you scan her swimsuit, noticing that she’s wearing a sheer top above to cover her up while she’s walking around, wishing that you brought something similar with you before walking here. you cross your arms, feeling a little too exposed now.

your anxiety grows even more as emma and yuzuha drag you toward the deck, already feeling more eyes on you. “i’m gonna grab a drink, want some?” yuzuha offers.

you nod in response. “no alcohol, please.” she approaches the cooler, grabbing lemonade cans and pouring them into a cup, handing one to you and emma as she takes a sip.

“you got stopped by the cops coming here?” you overhear draken questioning the guys.

“yeah, he was creepy as hell,” says a blonde with an undercut, the same guy who was standing next to keisuke baji, sitting on a donut-shaped float. “he went on about making us go to this weird motel before coming here.”

“swear he thought we were a group of thugs on our way to burn the place down,” another voice chimes in. this one belongs to the guy with yellow-blonde streaks and that half-lidded, cocky kind of face that makes it hard to tell if he’s flirting or just always looks like that. he swims over to the edge, muscles flexing as he hauls himself out of the water like it’s nothing. water clings to his skin, sliding down the tiger tattoo inked on his neck. there’s a mole on his cheek you can’t unsee now.

he strolls over to the cooler, cracking a beer right next to you like you’re not even there at first—then shifts just enough to give you a glance.

“think he called in backup to stalk us at the motel?” undercut asks, flicking water off his hand.

“so you almost got ambushed?” draken raises a brow.

undercut just shrugs like, maybe.

then keisuke shows up.

you spot him fully now. black swim trunks clinging low on his hips, a scar on the side of his stomach, silver jewelry gleaming against his skin. rings on every other finger, a heavy silver cross swinging from his neck. the kind of guy who could wreck your week with a look, and he’s giving you a long one right now.

he pops the cap off his beer with his teeth, like he’s done it a thousand times, and takes a swig.

“he was nervous,” keisuke says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. eyes never leaving yours. “kept yappin’ about us not makin’ it to the camp. swear he was sweatin’ like he knew somethin’ we didn’t.”

“almost as nervous as the girl,” tiger-neck mutters, pointing his beer bottle at you before crossing his arms. it clinks against keisuke’s, and they both glance you over like you’re something worth sharing. “who’s this minx?”

their sudden attention makes you feel like a spotlight is on you, a deer in headlights. you instinctively tighten your arms around yourself, trying to make yourself smaller. your presence feels too acknowledged that it becomes overwhelming until you feel someone wrap their arm around your shoulder.

you turn to see mikey, who loudly introduces you to everyone, gesturing toward each person as he says their name. they either wave or smile at you until he reaches keisuke, who just tips his head slightly, eyes dragging over you with the same sharp focus, like he’s memorizing you.

“someone’s thirsty,” emma mutters, holding a cup up to her mouth to mask her lips.

“anyway, she’s with us, so don’t scare her off, alright?” mikey’s tone makes you feel like a kid, but his reassuring squeeze on your shoulder helps ease your anxiety a bit.

he wanders off after that, probably unaware that he just gave keisuke full clearance to haunt your personal space. his expression more curious than hostile. but his intense gaze makes it hard to tell.

god, he looks so mean.

“how’d you end up with this lot?” he asks, nodding at the group. voice low. scratchy. weirdly calm for how intense he looks.

“oh, um… long story,” you reply with a chuckle, squeezing your arms out of nervousness. keisuke seems to pick up on your discomfort and steps a bit closer, his presence making you feel even smaller.

“got a whole week to hear it,” he says, looming over you.

you’re saved by kazutora, who swoops in and throws an arm around your shoulders like he’s done it a hundred times before. “you scarin’ the new girl already, baji?”

he takes another swig of his beer, turning to kazutora. “just curious about the new face,” he says, then turns back to you, his dark brows lowered with attentiveness. “that’s all.”

“right.” kazutora laughs, fingers trailing down your arm until they wrap around your wrist. “swim with me?”

before you can answer, he pulls you toward the edge of the deck, steps picking up speed until—

splash.

your body goes into shock from the freezing cold water. you quickly resurface, gasping. “holy fuck! that is the coldest cold water.” you breathe out, swimming closer to chifuyu’s float. you cling to it, looking up at him apologetically. he smiles down at you with reassurance.

“yeah? how cold? is it worth deactivating my curls?” emma asks as she gets closer to the deck, bending down to speak to you.

draken sits on the deck next to mitsuya. “c’mon, emma, jump with ‘em.” he splashes her with water, but it only hits her legs. she backs away, bumping into mikey.

“yeah, i might just lie out in the sun for a while instead,” she says, scrunching up her curls.

“hey, what is that?” mikey points far out at the lake as if he saw a crocodile. or worse, a body? in sync, you all turn to look at what he’s pointing at.

“what? where?” chifuyu asks, kicking his float closer to the deck. you continue to cling to his float, wrapping your arms around the donut, looking around frantically for unknown ripples in the lake.

“in the lake right there…” mikey insists, his eyes blown wide.

“c’mon, mikey, don’t fuck around,” kazutora says nervously as he swims closer to the deck.

“guys, i’m serious, it’s right there,” his voice drops an octave to convey urgency. emma starts to cling to him nervously.

“it looks… just like emma!” mikey suddenly shouts, pushing her into the lake without warning.

a big splash of her body hitting the water sprays on all of you. she resurfaces, gasping for air. “oh my god!” emma screams. you can’t tell if it’s because the water is freezing or because her curls are ruined. you hold back your laughter as you swim toward her. she clings to you desperately.

he laughs at her hysterically, then points at the lake again. “there’s somethin’ else in the lake!” he quickly jumps in right next to you two and drags emma down with him.

she then resurfaces again, pushing her hair back and glaring at mikey. “you jerk!” she yells, then lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “you think you’re so funny, huh?” she tries to dunk him under the water, both of them splashing wildly as they struggle.

you giggle at them both trying to drown each other, though you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. glancing around, you meet keisuke’s intense stare again. he stands slightly apart from the group, his gaze fixed on you with an unreadable expression.

then you see a towering figure behind him, a man with slicked-back black hair, adorned with a single blonde streak in the front, walking up behind keisuke, slapping his seemingly tatted hands on keisuke’s shoulders and shaking him from behind. he notices keisuke’s gaze lingering on someone, following it, his purple eyes land on you. he then whispers something in keisuke’s ear, causing him to push his tongue against his cheek to stifle a laugh as he nudges his beer toward hanma.

mitsuya, on the other hand, whispers something to draken, his eyes locked on you throughout. whatever mitsuya said made draken glance in your direction.

you’d think you’re a circus freak from the way their attention is on you, confused and a bit overwhelmed. you decide to swim a bit farther away from the group, enjoying the cool water and the brief solitude. emma follows closely behind, submerged under the water. just as you start to relax, she grabs your leg, causing you to jump.

she resurfaces. “careful, swim too far and you might land on a body in the water.”

you splash her with water, laughing. “yeah? that gonna be yours when I’m done with you?”

“oh, piss off!”

the thumping bass of a live DJ, who you found out was rindou haitani, one of the hosts of this camp party—pounds through your chest as you walk into the entryway of cabin 13. it was the biggest cabin in the camp, where everybody goes to hangout whenever they don’t wanna sleep yet. it has two stories, the top floor only providing a view of the balcony. surprised that he had managed to keep the music loud, considering the majority of people were already asleep since it was midnight.

the place reeked of stale beer and lingering smoke, ghostface masks scattered around the couches and the tables, you notice mikey and takemichi with a couple other guys lounging on the couch, passing around a bong, mikey laughing at takemichi for not being able to inhale without violently coughing. the scent almost lures you in but you don’t wanna smoke weed, not yet.

instead looking to emma who was sitting on the kitchen counter chatting with draken. she wore a white mini pencil skirt with a sleeveless black turtleneck. her eyes slowly move away from draken to look at who entered. she sees you, smiling immediately and motions for you to come over with her hands, making draken turn to see who she was motioning to.

emma hops down from the counter and grabs a bottle of malibu. “It’s already midnight, and the fact that you don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your system is just insane,” she says, grinning mischievously. she grabs your jaw and tilts your chin up,

“on my way here i saw a tall thin silhouette of somebody in the woods, no joke.” you spoke, face pressed against emma’s hand, she squeezes your jaw gently as if telling you to open your mouth, and you do just that. “that was probably a skinwalker.” draken responds with a smirk, knowing that you’re about to punch his ribs for saying it’s name, you did just that too, he backs away laughing.

emma pours the rum into your mouth, letting out a soft woo at how quick you were to swallow it, hearing draken whistle at you for encouragement to keep going, feeling the cold, sweet, coconut flavored liquor slide down your throat. you start slapping emma’s arm, realizing that you drank a little too much. she finally moves the rum away from your lips, placing it back on the counter, you wipe the bottom of your lip as you feel familiar eyes on you.

you instinctively glance where the pool table was. at the back of the cabin, you spot keisuke baji playing with hanma, chifuyu and mitsuya, holding the cue. the way he was looking at you seemed curious, his eyes lingering over your face and down at your body, as much as you didn’t wanna wear anything skimpy for this trip, you liked keisuke’s eyes lingering on your body a little too much to pass up the opportunity.

you were wearing a black lace bustier iamgia top with front strap above the sweetheart shaped neckline that are pushing your tits up so perfectly, paired with a black mini skirt with two bow ribbons on the sides. he then looks at the pool table, it’s his turn now. you watch him hover against the pool table, making you weak in the knees.

you chew on the bottom of your lips, watching baji line up his sight, aiming it carefully at the cue ball, he draws the cue back, with a sharp crack, the cue ball darts forward. at the corners of your eyes you see somebody with blonde hair, forming words at you, your eyes slide over, seeing glittery pink lips opening and forming words, oh fuck. forming words, emma was talking to you this entire time and all you did was ogle at the long haired hunk around the pool table.

“sorry, what?” emma rolls her eyes, she knew you were drooling over keisuke but brushes it off because she got something else in her mind right now. “draken and i are gonna go smoke, you still got the zip in your bag?”

“yeah, just don’t finish it.” you brush her off quickly, leaning against the counter, eyes sliding back to keisuke baji, watching him light up a cigarette. emma and draken walk past you hand in hand, heading out of the cabin.

you don’t know what’s gotten into you exactly, maybe it’s the liquor, maybe it’s the constant eye-fucking you’ve been having with him all day today that’s driving you crazy, but something within you kept urging you to approach the pool table right now, you don’t even know how to play fucking pool. you straighten your posture and stride towards the pool table, subconsciously adding an extra sway to your hips as you go.

you can see the exact moment hanma spots you, he stops talking to keisuke and slides his eyes all over you with a smirk, keisuke following his gaze.

“you know how to play this, new girl?” hanma says with a neutral face, chifuyu raises his head to nod slightly at you with a polite smile as he gets back into focusing on the cue, you nod back, ignoring baji, who’s eyes bore into you, holding the cancer stick as smoke curl out of his lips.

“not really, i suck at it.” you lean against the pool table near baji, keeping a good distance. watching the cue ball darting forward from chifuyu’s motion, clipping the 9-ball, sending it rolling into the corner pocket.

“show us, can’t be that bad.” mitsuya strides closer to you, handing you his cue. both hanma and baji stand behind you as you position yourself, bending over the pool table. one hand grips the end of the cue, and the other holds the tip on the table. you hear them hold in a laugh and snort at your awkward position. rolling your eyes, you turn toward them, cocking your head to the side and narrowing your eyes. “you guys gonna help me or am i here to be made fun of?”

“nah, I’ll help you.” hanma strides over, placing his cue on the table and positions himself behind you, placing his hands between you and pinning you in place. jesus christ he’s so tall. you go back into the same position again. “that’s too high, new girl.” he takes your hand and moves it down the cue just a little bit, holding your waist and angling your sight on the cue ball better.

“you’re sabotaging her like that,” keisuke mutters, the cigarette bobbing as he speaks.

“no, I’m not. that’s a perfect score,” hanma insists.

“perfect my fuckin’ ass. here’s how you do it, new girl! come here.” keisuke points to a spot in front of him on the other side of the table with his chin, you stride over, and he quickly puts you in position, his hand on yours as he angles you toward the cue ball.

“you know how to hit it right?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “no.” you kept your answer quick and short, cause if you spoke any more you’ll accidentally moan, getting drunk on his manly scent mixed with his cigarette, a small hint of coconut from the sunscreen he had on the lake, feeling his cold cross necklace dangling on your back, hoping your not obviously blushing right now. he sighs and adjusts his grip on the cue where your hand is, guiding you as he draws the cue back and strikes the ball. the cue ball glides smoothly, and several balls roll into the corner pockets.

keisuke straightens up from you, pretending as if nothing happened, smirking cockily at hanma. hanma flips him off with a grin.

“think you got the hang of it?” mitsuya asks, leaning his chin against the cue propped up on the floor.

“I think so.” you reply, starting to get confident now. shaking off the earlier interaction with keisuke, you focus on the game. lining up your shot, you strike the cue ball, sending it smoothly across the table, hitting another ball getting it close enough to the corner pocket, damn it.

keisuke walks to the other side, his eyes calculating. he ties his hair up, a few strands falling perfectly on his face as he gets serious, you watch him play. yeah, playing with them was a mistake cause now you can’t focus anymore.

It’s hanma’s turn now. he slicks his hair back with his “punishment” hand and lines up his shot, he pockets a ball in the corner smoothly.

you notice keisuke’s brow quirk up at hanma’s move, slightly impressed. hanma then moves closer to keisuke, taking a drag from the cigarette still held between keisuke’s fingers. he remains focused on the table as mitsuya takes his turn.

what. a. sight.

distracted with drooling over the guys, you notice that the pool table has no balls left, “another game?” hanma proposes.

keisuke exhales the smoke. “yeah, seems unfair to the new girl,” he mocks, his tone teasing, is new girl seriously you’re name now? you sigh, getting a slight whiff of the weed the guys had earlier, a joint sounds so good right now. “yeah, okay, but i gotta go wash up, know a restroom nearby?” the bathroom excuse was a bit unnecessary, but you need to get your mind off of this, stat. mitsuya responds, nodding his head toward the back of the cabin. “yeah, there’s one outside from behind.”

you step out, walking towards the girls’ cabin, carefully opening the door to avoid waking anyone. sneaking to your duffel bag, you search for your stash, only to realize emma has taken it. fuck, she better not have finished it all. you exit quietly, heading towards the boys’ cabin where you find emma lounging next to draken, chatting casually as if there aren’t any guys asleep around them, but who are they to defy draken and his time with his girl?

you approach them, emma spotting you, “oh, heyyy, whatcha doin’ here.” she giggles, clearly stoned, you cross your arms. “where’s my stuff?” you ask, emma’s mouth forms into an “o” with a guilty look on her face. “oops.. we may or may not have smoked it all.”

“you kidding me? it was more than enough for a week!”

“noooo, it wasn’t, don’t know how you smoke your shit but it wasn’t nearly enough for a week.” she shakes her head.

“ugh, whatever.” you mutter, walking away from them, their laughter trailing behind you.

now you actually want to go to the bathroom. you turn to where mitsuya directed behind cabin 13, finding nothing but a shed sitting in between the forest trees, confused but still approaching it. you turn the door handle, walking into kazutora, looking like he’s snorting something on the countertop. he glances up to see who walked in, before he could react, you quickly apologize, “oh, shit! sorry!” you shut the door, leaning against it.

was he doing coke? he was doing coke, but alone in the bathroom countertop? you start consider if you should do coke with him instead, chewing on your bottom lip as you ponder around that idea. you open the door on him again, finding the countertop clean, spotless even.

you lean against the door frame, raising a brow, narrowing your eyes on him. “what were you doing?” kazutora, guilt written all over his face, gulps. his expression quickly changes back to being nonchalant once he realizes that he’s already caught in the act. he leans back against the countertop, crossing his arms. “what’s it look like i was doing?” he replies sarcastically.

a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips as you walk in, shutting the door behind you and locking it, you shut the toilet cover, sitting on it. “i won’t tell if you won’t.”

kazutora raises a brow at your response, a sly grin spreading across his face. “you’re full of surprises, new girl. what’s in it for me if i keep quiet?”

you roll your eyes as if he asked a stupid question. “you’re clearly hiding from somebody if you’re snorting coke in this disgusting dump.” you kick the bath mat that was once white but now stained with muddy shoe prints, you do a ‘my lips are sealed’ motion with your hand as you point at his pocket with your eyes.

you catch his smirk twitch at the corner of his lips as he listens to your observation, you’re smarter than he gave you credit for. he looks down at the dirty bath mat, stuffing his hand in his pocket as he thought for a minute. “alright.” he pulls out a small baggie with a bit of white powder in it.

“got your phone with you?” he asks, you stuff your hand in your skirt pocket, pulling out your phone to use as a surface, a makeshift black mirror. kazutora sits down on the bathroom floor in front of you and lines up the powder with a motel ad card, grabbing a straw he cut out from the drinks and leaning down over the phone, he holds one nostril closed, “done this before?” he asks before inhaling sharply.

“in highschool, haven’t since then.” you have never seen somebody look this hot snorting cocaine, and yet here you are, watching him snap his head back, sniffing frequently. he knocks his head back straight, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes, moistening his lips and biting it. he then starts to line up the rest for you, handing you the straw, “all yours.” he says, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. he leans against the wall, his eyes now fixed on you.

you hesitantly grab the straw, looking down at the white powder lined perfectly over your phone, staring at the reflection in the back of it. you don’t even know why your hesitating, there’s something nagging in your subconscious telling you to not snort it, telling you not right now. and still you ignore it, knowing you shouldn’t but the dilated sandy colored eyes are staring at you too intensely that you can’t pussy out now. you hold one nostril closed and line the straw from your nose to the powder, inhaling it quick. okay, regret.

“fuck.” you grimace, snapping your head back, blinking rapidly as your eyes water, instinctively rubbing your nose as you try to stifle a sneeze. your heart starts to race. kazutora let’s out a deep chuckle, noticing your discomfort, “gets better.” he swipes the rest of the powder with his finger and rubs it on his gums. you slide down from the toilet seat onto the floor and lean against it, placing your legs on top of his thigh for comfort.

you start to pant, breathing manually now, kazutora observes you with his head slightly tilted, his earring jingles softly. eyes roaming down your body to your soft legs, his senses now heightened, noticing the addictive cocoa butter smell on your legs, he slowly places his hands on your calves, caressing it gently, testing the waters.

“how’re you feeling?” he asks as he massages your calves softly, making you to focus on that sensation more than the rapid beating of your heart, you take your time to answer, you can’t really tell if you’re enjoying this or freaking out right now, but whatever’s he’s doing to your legs should not stop. you nod slowly, sinking down, your other leg curling up to shyly hide your face from his gaze, he slides his hands up to your thigh, spreading your legs open. “let me look at you.” he rasps, the sound of his voice activating something within you that you have been trying to get rid of since the pool game with keisuke.

you let out a soft giggle as his heavy-lidded gaze lingers over your eyes, lips and down to your skirt that you forgot your wearing, the position your in giving him a good view on your panties.

“gotta take care of you, right?” he slowly leans closer to you, resting his chin on your knees, softly kissing it, his lips hover down your knee to your thighs, kissing a little too close to where you need him to be right now. you run your fingers through his hair, softly dragging your black stiletto nails on the back of his hair. he looks up at you, his eyes almost black from how dilated they are. he leans closer to your face, hovering over your lips, just as he’s leaning to kiss you, the bathroom lights flickers then plunges into darkness, hearing the guys yelling over at cabin 13.

my luck. you feel kazutora’s forehead press against your knee and sigh, clicking his tongue in irritation. you lean your head back against the toilet cover, looking up at the ceiling—nothingness really—hearing a commotion going on outside, though kazutora shows no signs of getting up, you nudge your leg at him softly. “let’s check out what happened.” you feel him hesitate for a bit, then he shuffles around, from under your legs you feel his pants adjust, you hold back a giggle. he pushes himself up. “here.” he reaches for your hand, and pulls you up.

kazutora opens the bathroom door, seeing the camp in complete blackout, surrounded by nothing but darkness with the only light source being a couple of iphone flashlights, the glowstick necklaces on mikey, rindou and emma, and the moon. you fumble for your phone, turning the flashlight on.

in the center of the camp, you saw a circle formed around rindou, who’s trying to get a signal on his phone to call the cabin owners about the power outage. keisuke stands around with his arms crossed, his gaze sharp as he notices kazutora walking out the bathroom with you trailing behind.

“where were you?” emma rushes toward your side, “oh, uh, bathroom, what’s going on?” you ask. keisuke cuts in, “what were you two doing in the bathroom for so long?” keisuke observes kazutora’s reaction to his question, already catching him trying to make up a lie in his head, you quickly step in, “i asked him to wait for me outside, i got scared earlier by something in the woods and didn’t wanna be alone.”

kazutora looks at you gratefully for covering for him, then turns to keisuke with an innocent smile. keisuke, however, isn’t easily convinced. “could’ve asked me or mitsuya, or any of the guys that were around you before.” he says, his tone slightly reproachful.

“I didn’t want to bother you guys while you were playing pool,” you explain.

“but you didn’t mind botherin’ kazutora?” keisuke’s eyes narrow at you, fuck he’s sharp.

before you can respond, the group calls for everyone’s help with the generator issue. keisuke gives you both a lingering look before heading towards the others. you exchange a knowing glance with kazutora and emma before following suit, she nudges at your shoulder. “i’ll tell you back at the cabin.” you whisper.

after a long walk in the woods looking for the generator, you join the group clustered around the it. emma stands beside you, wrapping her arms around yours, leaning her cheek against your shoulder tiredly. rindou flashes the light for draken to fix the generator, watching them argue and try to diagnose why the power has gone out. they twist knobs, check connections, and mutter to each other as they attempt to revive the generator. you subconsciously kept your eyes around the forest, getting paranoid, it’s a little too dark for your comfort, either that or you’re just very coked out right now.

draken leans back, “the problem isn’t from the generator, it’s the whole area.”

“cell towers too?” rindou queried, shining the light towards draken’s face, he swats it away from his eyes, “if there’s no bars in your phone then yeah, cell towers too.”

“they doing maintenance on it or what?” rindou pressed.

“does it fuckin’ look like i know what they’re doing to the cell towers right now?” draken retorted.

as the guys continued bickering about the generator you couldn’t shake the random shiver that ran down your spine, you turn to scan around the forest, looking in between the trees and tuning their voices out to try to listen to anything out of the ordinary. you spot a tree with a weird shape, as if there’s a black silhouette behind it, watching you.

“what’s up?” emma notices your attention elsewhere, following your gaze. you blink, watching the silhouette disappear and the sound of tree branches on the floor breaking as if somebody or something is stepping on them. “alright, can you guys wrap this up quick so we can get to the cabin?”

“getting scared, new girl?” hanma teases. “yes, yes i am, so can we please get to the cabin,” you start to walk briskly towards cabin 13, actually breaking into a run. you push open the creaking wooden doors and immediately turn on the flashlight, setting it on the kitchen counter to illuminate the rest of the cabin. the others follow suit. rindou making his way to his DJ set, spinning it and playing with the buttons with a bored expression on his face as the rest of the guys sit on the couch.

“what’s gotten you so scared?” chifuyu asks you, concerned.

“i don’t know. i just didn’t like being out there. It’s too damn dark,” you explain, making room for emma to join you on the couch, sitting close.

“you scared of the dark?” keisuke mocks, sitting across from you and leaning back with an amused expression.

“yeah, i am,” you reply, already growing irritated.

“keisuke, that’s hypocritical of you,” mikey interjects, throwing whatever’s near him at keisuke, which happens to be a ghostface mask.

he smoothly dodges it. “If you’re gonna bring up that one time, we were kids,” keisuke retorts defensively.

draken and kazutora let out a chuckle, clearly remembering the incident.

“fuck you two laughin’ at?” keisuke shoots back. “If anybody’s actually scared of the dark it’s Chifuyu.”

“how did i get dragged into this?!” chifuyu protests. in the corner of your eyes you see rindou suddenly appearing near the couch, picking up a ghostface mask. a slight mischievous smirk plays at his lips as he turns towards the group.

“silence!” he suddenly yells, grabbing everyone’s attention. “who wants to play bodies bodies bodies?”

#☠︎︎. she’s a horror #all ima say is that i listened to escape the fate while writing this #it’s 8 am and i haven’t slept yet.#goodnight guys #tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #baji keisuke x reader #hanma shuji #mitsuya takashi #ken ryuguji #manjiro sano #chifuyu matsuno #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora hanemiya x reader #rindou haitani #rindou haitani x reader

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kivrumi · 1 year ago

Text

⭑ᡣ𐭩"₊SEVEN 𐙚⁺˚

chapter 1 - psycho

FEM!READER × ? JJK

ʚ PAIRINGS : Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro, Ino Takuma, Higuruma Hiromi, Kento Nanami, Naoya Zenin ɞ

{ it is not stated here who the reader ends up with, the story is to find out.. }

NON-CURSE AU | COLLEGE AU

꒰ SUMMARY : How did you end up in such a mess with various guys? From strangers, friends, and crushes to ex-boyfriends and enemies. How did, what you thought was simple, life turn out like this? And who exactly were you to end up with?

꒰ WARNINGS : SLOWBURN - NSFW 18+ - mature & sexual themes - smut / lemon - language - violence - mentions of obsessive behaviour - sub/dom mentions - angst andd fluff :3

SEVEN MASTERLIST

next chapt

"Told you I'd win this time."

You snicker at Choso, who has now just shamefully lost at a mere game of Mario Kart.

"Doesn't make you better than me does it"

He then reaches out to your lap and grabs a handful of YOUR popcorn from YOUR bowl.

"Seriously? First of all, of course it makes me better than you. In fact, the BEST at Mario Kart worldwide. Second of all, I did not make two packets of popcorn for you to gulp all of yours down in 5 seconds to attack my bowl" You give him a cold, stern, serious look as he smiles with a mouth full of popcorn, slowly reaching out for your bowl again. You wack his hand out of the way, moving your bowl further from him as he chuckles whilst attempting to swallow. With your face glaring back towards the screen where it displayed your victory, he asks

"Do you have a third of all?" He then grabbed his Nintendo controller back to restart the match.

"Hmm, third of all..." You now face Choso, who still has his eyes glued to the screen.

"You like losing to me. "

Choso Kamo. Your best friend since you were only five. He knew every detail about you and vice versa. Growing up with him only drew you two closer, so here, you two were sitting on the floor of your dorm room, backs leaning onto your couch and Nintendo controllers in hands. If someone were to ask you to describe Choso, you would say how kind and forgiving he is and include his sense of humour. He knows right from wrong and is not afraid to stand proud of his beliefs. Many have framed him to be this extremely soft, introverted, shy man; they were along the right lines yet couldn't be more wrong.

"Choso, what are you still doing here? It's nearly 1 am; go back to your dorm." Your roommate, Shoko Ieiri, insists as she walks from her bedroom door to the sofa and plops herself down on it. She then grabs your entire popcorn bowl and multiple handfuls of your popcorn, stuffing it in her mouth

"Shoko- are you serious, you know you can make your own packet." You get up and snatch your bowl back to see nothing but popcorn kernels. Choso stretches his hand to Shoko to pass her a Nintendo controller.

"Okay, one more game, and I swear I'll head back to my room," Choso claims ready to press play.

"finee" Shoko says as she stretches her legs across the sofa as you sadly place your empty bowl to your side and grab your controller.

—

"What the fuck?" Choso and you say in unison. Not only did Shoko win all 6 matches you guys ended up playing, but you and Choso always ended up around last place.

"ooou what can I say" Shoko giggles, then glances at the time. "Oh shit, it's really late. Get to your dorm Choso and you. " she slaps the top of your head. "You get your ass to bed. "

With a defeated sigh from both you and Choso, you get up and drag your feet towards your bedroom. "Night then everyone," you slowly close your door hearing the two individuals still in the living room say goodnight back to you.

Shoko Ieiri has been your close friend for about a year now since you started college. You remember her looking lost in the dormitory halls and asking if she needed help by guiding her to her dorm room, only to shock you that you guys were to share a dorm. Going into college, the only person you knew was your best friend Choso, and Shoko had two of her own best friends you had yet to meet. A white-haired boy and a black-haired boy, you don't think you have ever seen them, but you are very familiar with their names via Shoko yapping to you about their latest drama. Shoko never really bothered, introducing you to them, not that they interested you in any way, but this was because Shoko didn't think they were a very good influence and wouldn't bother to care. Utahime Iori and Kento Nanami are friends to both you and Shoko since Shoko was nice enough to introduce you to some of her friends on your first days. It's been a year now, and all of you are 19 now. Well. Not quite everyone.

Toji Fushiguro. 2 years older than you. He is in mechanical engineering. It was love at first sight for you. The first day you saw him his biceps had you choking on your water, his hair stuck to his forehead sweating, fixing something in the car, who cares about that? He wore a black compression shirt first, which nearly made you melt and wanna scream, his scar by his lip that you just wanted to- GOD HELP ME.

He was an attractive individual.

You have been crushing on this man ever since you've attended this college; you damn sure wanted to get into his pants. But not only you, he also had countless other fangirls. So thinking he wants you and only you, despite never talking to you before, is fucking delusional. Countless rumours of him playing girls, high body count, and being really good in bed were spread around. You did, in fact, believe these rumours, but you really needed proof...

—

All of your friends knew about your obsession with this older boy. Choso always mentioned how Toji is not someone I should go for due to his reputation as a player, and Utahime is always there to agree with him.

"I can definitely agree with you, girlie. Toji is one fine ass," Shoko exclaimed as Choso and Utahime stared with disgust.

"Stop encouraging this Shoko!" Utahime says as she facepalms herself with a twitching eyebrow.

"Kentooo" Shoko purrs as she goes behind him to place her hands on his shoulders. "What are your opinions on Toji Fushiguro?" she asks, rocking him back and forth.

"Never interacted with him before so, don't know and don't care."

"You're all haters," you said to all, apart from Shoko. Just then, you had seen Toji Fushiguro walk past your hangout spot window, an abandoned cafe behind your school, with a girl trailing behind him. She had the same hair type and eyes as you, but everything else about her was the opposite. Mainly her style. She had a huge smile plastered across her face as she followed the man you've been eyeing for a good 2 months now. Despite the man being a whore, you still hope one day you catch his eyes.

—

But it's been 10 months till that day you saw that girl trail behind him. After that, there have been numerous different girls spotted with the handsome compression shirt man, not really fighting his whore stereotypes. Do you want to be one of those girls? You say no, but if he ever went up to you, you don't think you can turn him down. But the idea of you being used once or twice disgusts you. Why would you do that to yourself? But the tiniest minute possibility that you can change him was always there.

—

"eugh- huh- Shoko, what the fuck.." You say as you slowly open your heavy lids from your beauty rest, and to your surprise, you see Shoko leaning over you, a glass of water in hand, tilted to your face.

"Seriously, girl? You ignored your alarm 5 times now. I'm leaving now for class and don't know how you're going to arrive at your class late. Especially with your mad teacher, " She huffs as she chugs from the glass of water, which originally was supposed to be poured on your face, but to your luck, you woke up.

You get up and look at the time. Fuckity fuck.

"Oh my god, Professor Yui will not back down to give me a crazy lecture of disturbing her class, despite me trying to be stealthy to not interrupt."

"All psychology professors are insane like that, huh? Also, you're only noisy because of the dingly dangly earrings you wear every day. "

"Okay, okay.. What are you still doing here? Sho, get your ass to your scientists class. "

"andd what are you still doing in bed girlie.. Don't come for me, I'm dressed up and about to leave. You can always come with me right now, but maybe your Hello Kitty PJs will be too distracting to your crazy psychology professor. "

"ah fuck" you jumped out of bed as you hear Shoko leave your room and the front door slam "fuuuuckkk" It hurts to not put on makeup or your 'dingly dangly' earrings but you were really in a rush. You throw on a random zip-up, over your pyjama top, and change into some loose sweatpants. Grabbing all needed essentials and having to forget breakfast.

"shit, shit-" lecture had started 4 minutes ago, and you had just made it to the double doors. Slowly creaking it open, sadly the door just has to be rusty; you got a few heads turned towards you. Your professor has noticed your presence but remains carrying out her lecture. Wow, those earrings were the problem. You scout the area, and once your eyes land on him, you walk over and sit next to your best friend, Choso. He looks at your face, examining your appearance in great detail. You can see his eyebags look heavier than usual, which is obviously due to hours of Mario Kart last night. he must've-

"You look.. different" Choso states quietly, still staring at you weirdly.

"Wow, you see me without makeup, and you think I look weird, thanks a lot, Cho," you say with apparent sarcasm and chuckle lightly at your words.

"No, no, it's not that - oh my god, where are your earrings? Wow, you look weird without th-"

"Choso Kamo," an erupting voice from slightly afar, shook both you and the boy beside you. Your dang professor. You give Choso a 'haha you're about to get in trouble' look, but her next words made you probably wanna shoot the whole school and then yourself, "Choso.. Why do you continue to let that troublemaker sit next to you? Poor you, you get so distracted in my lectures as soon as she arrives". What? What did this teacher have against you? You look to Choso, who smirks at you lightly before formally replying,

"Well, it's not my fault, she comes to me, and I don't like talking during your lectures, but she makes me feel obliged to.."

WHAT? This man will be the death of you; all you can do is stare at Choso, who is so desperately holding in a giggle to the point he has to cover his mouth with his hand.

"Out of my lecture hall." Well, what was the point of even coming in?

—

"Cho, where the hell do you think you're going?"

"huh- you've been waiting outside the hall this entire time?"

"No, I'm not pathetic like you. I just came back to diss you."

"diss? Did you not get thrown out right now out of the lecture in front of various other students?"

"That's just because she favours you Cho; she's on some pedophilic shit. I just know it."

"Well, I'll let her hit for better grades. I'm failing,"

"ew cho- what- I seriously don't get how people find you sweet and shy, your a disgusting fuck, annoying, bitch, mischievous, and evil man."

"Ow?"

"I still can't believe you did that. What if she reports me for bullying or manipulating?"

"I think she was going to, but right after the lecture, I talked with her. Explained how we were friends, and it was a joke. "

"What? Thanks, but... Did you not get in trouble?"

"trouble? Nah, as you said, she loves me. Plus, if I were to get punished by her, all it would be is a lil spankin on the b-"

"Don't finish that sentence off."

All you get is a chuckle from him as he wraps an arm over your shoulder.

"I'll see you tonight, yeah? Kento needs me to help him build some weird shit for his front room. "

"Right now?"

"Yeah, you're dorm or mine?"

"Don't mind."

"mine it is," and just like that, his arm was off you as he started making his way to Kentos dorm.

You were just standing in a not-so-familiar hallway. Fuck, you were just following wherever Choso was going. Wait, this area was more where athletic students, engineering students, and law students were. Engineering? You accidentally found yourself looking around for a certain guy with a certain mouth scar. You moved around, peeping into classrooms and opening doors. One door caught your eye; you were sure that it was the one you once saw Toji enter, meaning that could be his class. Nearing the door, your heartbeat began to race. Just act like you're trying to find a friend if people get suspicious...

"Need something, sweetheart?"

"A FRIEND, I'M LOOKING FOR - I'm looking for my friend..." FUCK. You turn around to see a man you can't help but slightly recognize. He was no Toji, but you have seen him somewhere.

"And this friend of yours is in the Hunters soccer team? Since you know, that's our changing rooms"

You were in deep shit; you look like such a pervert. Mainly with your face turning a bright red from the embarrassment this alluring stranger has on you. You look back into his eyes nervously, but that's when it hit. This was no one other than Shoko's good friend.

Satoru Gojo.

—

"Girl, I hate Satoru. I think he fucked one of my friends," Shoko complained to you as she sat beside you on the couch.

"Again? Didn't he fuck your friends Keiko and Aiko?"

"Oh yeah, well, my point exactly. He is an ass hole, trying to get his dick wet. I need to hide you from him..."

"Damn, how good-looking is this guy?"

"I think he looks like a rat, but you know he has those deep, alluring blue eyes that everyone is so obsessed with. But apart from a pretty face, he can charm girls with his words. I'm completely unfazed by his words from being friends with him for so long. It just looks like a facade to me. "

—

Deep alluring blue eyes.. The man before you did fit Shoko's description.

It's not mistakable that it is Gojo, you've seen him around the college, not realising that this is the Satoru Gojo. His name is quite famous around here, known as the best football player at this college. Their soccer matches always make the headlines. Not that you were into soccer, but nearly every student knew there was the Hunters team, who wore blue eye-catching shirts, and there was an opposing team within the college. The Curses. Both teams are extremely popular and loved by fan girls, soccer wannabes, and, of course, the professors. You aren't sure which team is deemed better since your focus in life is not about your college soccer matches, but this is stuff you hear classmates rant about.

"You're not going to answer me? That's fine, sweetie. " You forgot said man remained in front of you, and that nickname nearly made you stop breathing. This guy has more than charm alright.

"I wasn't sure what class he was in... I'm sorry, I uh" fuck why are you stuttering? So what if this man was handsome, sexy and cute? You know what kind of man he is. He is just another college fuckboy. "I was just searching for my friend, but now I'm kind of lost."

"Lost? Are you new here? "

"No, but I'm not used to being on this side of college. I was following another friend, but he left my side now. I don't know how to get back to the dormitory"

"I see. Just wait up then. I came here to pick a few things from the locker room and was gonna head there too. You can follow me. "

"Oh really? thanks"

"Yeah, no problem, sweetie, just stay there," and with that, he went into the locker room. You waited outside, thinking back on that interaction. You don't want to be like every other girl that comes in contact with this man, not because you just want to be different but because you know what a real monster this blue-eyed freak is.

"Tojiii, you didn't call me back." You quickly looked to your right to see a girl, much shorter than the man she was confronting, cutely complaining to Toji Fushiguro.

"Lady, I said I WOULDN'T call you back."

"But that night was so.." she starts trailing her acrylic nails down his chest and then whispers into his ear. You see, his face turns into disgust as he slightly pushes her off.

"I said fuck off, no?" With that, the girl huffs as she whispers an insult, going away from the man. You watch her leave to the distance, and your eyes go back to Toji. But his eyes were already on you. From all the days he had a chance to notice you, it had to be when you're dressed down, with no makeup, and your hair looking shit. The eye contact was getting a bit too much for you but ended quite quickly when Gojo came back in sight.

"Okay! Follow me, " He says as you trail right behind him. "Must say it's a bit upsetting you don't go to this part of the college often, would be nice to see a pretty face like yours daily."

'This is just another one of his tricks', you remind yourself 'he just wants to get into any girl's pants'

"yeah, thanks"

'Fuck, did I just make it awkward?' you continued to walk behind him but he randomly came to a stop. 'Well we aren't at the dorms, why'd he stop' He then goes beside you, arm over your shoulder and then carries on walking.

"Don't walk behind me, makes you look like you're a fan girl" Oh you can see his game. He made you feel as if you were different from the other girls, and made you feel wanted and liked. You had the urge to tell him that you can see him right through.

"I know your game"

'Fuck I didn't actually want to tell him, that slipped out of my mouth'

"my game?" he asked, assuming you referring to soccer.

"You have fucked like half of the girls in this school"

'why am I blabbing on?' you get a chuckle from the white-haired man as his eyes remain looking forward.

"Is that so? And you know this for a fact?"

"Well yes, thanks to our mutual friend Shoko"

"ah- I see. Shoko my good cockblocking friend" he didn't seem pissed at your accusations, but in fact, was surprised and thankful he didn't have to create a persona for you "But without Shoko, you would've fallen for me. Right sweets?"

"Who knows, and- you can stop with the nicknames you know now"

"Why? I didn't lie about you having a pretty face, was disappointed I hadn't met you earlier due to you being stuck in another area of the college. What course do you major?" ignoring everything else he said because if you replied, you would be a stuttering mess.

"Psychology"

"ah I see, well I know where those lecture halls are so" he then stops to look at you, making you realise you two have found your destination "I will come to see you sometime, yeah?"

"Seriously? you haven't even gotten my name yet"

"Do I really need it right now? I'm fine with just calling you sweetheart" He then grabs a pen from his pocket, grabs your arm, rolls up your sleeve and jots down his digits. You didn't even get a chance to deny his number. "Don't wash this off before adding my number, text me as soon as you get to your room, okay?" Again not giving you a chance for anything, He leaves to go to the dormitory B building. 'Shoko is going to go feral and protective over me as soon as she finds out what just happened' You think as you walk towards your own dormitory building.

next chapt

@kivrumi do not steal / copy / reword / translate my work

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