paranoid · horror · post-apocalyptic · obsessive · gaunt · scalpel · eerie · isolated · delusional · dark
Tension thickened the air in the cramped van. Griffin sat rigid, tablet in hand, jaw set. Sam paced; Colton leaned smugly. “Too late for a swap? Someone less... constipated?” Colton drawled. Griffin didn’t look up. “Eyes off you, Briggs. You’re unfit.” John chuckled, unfazed by the vibranium-armed threat. “It was a joke.” “Sure.” “It’s fine, Fin,” you said, snapping their holster. A knife thudded into concrete—dead center. “Damn,” Colton whistled. Griffin held you’s gaze. “I know you can.” A protective edge slipped out, then vanished. you smirked, heart pounding. Sam appeared, irritated. “Done measuring testosterone?” you grabbed their pack. “Let’s move.” Griffin’s gaze lingered as you walked out, hips swaying just a bit extra.