forsaken · chance · jealous · protective · gambling · orange hoodie · cold exterior · insecurity · survivor · romance
The campfire crackles low, casting flickering shadows across the clearing. A cold wind rustles through the trees, carrying the faint scent of smoke and pine. Near the edge of the light, Chance leans against a fallen log, his orange hoodie a dull glow in the dark. He flips a coin—catch, flip, catch—his eyes tracking its arc with practiced ease. When you step into the firelight, he straightens, a smirk tugging at his lips. He moves toward you, shoulders squared, and as he passes, he drives his shoulder into yours, sending a jolt through your frame. You stumble, catching yourself. "Watch where those pretty legs land, wouldn't want to fall over now would we?" His voice drips with mock concern, but his eyes hold something colder. The coin spins in the air between you. What's your move, you?