#Action Lab Entertainment

[staff]

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[fushiguro-megloomy]

The Dean's Assistant

request: “may I request something where viktor is eating out needy reader (established relationship) 👉👈” tags: afab!reader, oral (f receiving), humiliation kink if you really squint, miláčku = honey wc: 1.9k notes: iiiiii got carried away with this LMAO-

dividers from cafekitsune

You had always been a particularly persistent person, some might even say bordering on arrogance. At least, that’s how others might describe you. Admittedly, it has served you well over the years, helping you climb the academic ladder and often pushing back against regulations in the name of scientific pursuit. You liked to think you simply knew how to charm people—professors, lab partners, anyone who could help you get ahead.

That was, of course, until you met your match. A brilliant mind, quickly flying through the ranks and overtaking you in academic seniority. It ruffled your feathers, to say the least. It didn’t help that he had a way of turning your own tactics against you, leaving you flustered and, on rare occasions, at a complete loss for words.

Even after you’d started dating, it felt like a never-ending game of cat and mouse—though you were never quite sure which of you was the cat and which was the mouse.

You leaned against the doorframe of Heimerdinger’s lab, your arms crossed and an exaggerated pout on your lips. Your boyfriend in question was in a familiar haunch, his brows furrowed in concentration as he scribbled along his reports.

“Viktor,” you called out, your tone bordering on a whine.

“Mm,” he hummed absently, not looking up.

“I’m bored,” you said, stepping closer.

“Then perhaps you should find a hobby,” he replied without missing a beat, his voice dry but laced with a hint of teasing.

“Oh, I have one.” You rounded the workbench, slowly until you were hovering near him. “You.”

That earned you a glance, his lips twitching as he fought a smile. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm.” You leaned against the edge of the bench, letting your fingers trail over the scattered papers. “And you’ve been very bad at entertaining me lately.”

“I've been busy,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the stack of notes in front of him. “Some of us have responsibilities, you know.”

You scoffed. “I’m just saying you could take a break once in a while. I mean, when’s the last time we…” You trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

He gave you a sideways look, his expression equal parts amused and exasperated. “You are incorrigible.”

“And you are stubborn,” you shot back, your fingers curling around the edge of the bench as you leaned in. “Don’t you miss me?”

His lips parted as if to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. Instead, you slipped closer, your hand brushing against his thigh. “Come on,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a softer, more coaxing tone. “Just a little break. For me?”

Viktor let out a sigh, his head tilting slightly as he finally set the pen down. “You do not play fair,” he said, his voice tinged with mock disapproval.

“I never claimed to,” you countered, your grin widening as you stepped fully into his space.

He rose to meet you, quick to pull you flush against him. The action caught you off guard, and you let out a surprised squeak as a hand settled firmly on your hip.

“Careful what you wish for, miláčku,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as his eyes locked onto yours. “What exactly do you expect me to do? Push you up against the workbench and have my way with you here, in the lab?”

Your breath hitched at the way he said it. “Maybe,” you said, your voice coming out more breathless than you intended.

He chuckled. “Unbelievable.”

“You like it,” you quipped, your hands sliding up to his chest.

He hummed, eyes flickering to your lips. “You’re lucky I do.”

Your hands quickly found their way around the white fabric of his tie, practically yanking him in for the kiss. Whatever lingering sense of responsibility he had was quickly tossed out the window, cold fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt leaving goosebumps in their wake. You responded by letting your own touch wander, fingers carding into his hair and giving a light tug, earning a small grunt from deep in his throat.

“You are a menace.” He grumbled, voice low, though his lips barely left yours long enough for it to carry any weight.

A giggle escaped you when his hand met the underside of your thigh and squeezed, you didn't hesitate to let him guide you up onto the workbench. The movement sent loose parts and sheets of paper tumbling to the floor, but neither of you paid them much mind as he moved to nip along your jaw.

“Me?” You countered. “What about you? This is what the Dean's assistant gets up to when nobody is looking?”

He froze for a moment, pulling back to meet your gaze. His expression was half amused, half threatening as one dark brow cocked.

“Do you want me to stop?” He challenged, hands finding purchase on your thighs giving them a squeeze.

“No—” it left your mouth too quickly, too eager, and heat crawled its way up your neck. “Not even a little bit.”

He pursed his lips in an attempt to hide the shit eating grin breaking across his face before he dipped back towards your neck. You could already feel yourself growing weaker at his touch, heat pulsing low in your belly, moaning meekly when his mouth bruised your neck.

As he pressed himself between your legs your hips bucked involuntarily to meet him, drawing a low sound from his throat. Your lips crashed together in another heated kiss, quickly growing desperate as his tongue swept across yours. Sensing your impatience Viktors grip shifted, pushing you down until you were flat against the benchtop. His teeth scraped your collarbone before he descended lower, leaving wet, hot kisses across your skin. His hands moved down your body, one roaming the curve of your hip while the other hooked into your waistband. His fingers hooked beneath the fabric, pulling at it with enough force to leave your heart hammering with anticipation.

His lips ghosted their way down, knowing just where to press to have you crumbling beneath him, hot breath tickling your skin. When he reached your hips you instinctively arched towards him, lifting just enough for him to slip your bottoms off in one quick motion. Despite the warm room your skin prickled, especially as his fingers traced idle patterns over your bare legs.

When he lowered to his knees in front of you a needy whine escaped your mouth, fingers already gripping the edge of the table. He smirked in response, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin where your thigh met your pelvis.

“Patience” he murmured, but the teasing edge to his tone only made you tremble.

Moving more deliberately he nipped at the skin of your inner thighs, leaving small marks in his wake. Lanky hands gripped your legs, keeping them firmly parted as he inched his way closer and it took everything in you not to squirm. Finally he flattened his tongue against you, licking a lazy strip over your clit. Your body tensed, a grunt spilling from your throat. He was growing a bit hazy already himself, dragging his thumb experimentally through your folds. His breath audibly hitched when your arousal coated his skin, and he began slow circles on your puffy clit.

“Look at you,” his voice was gravelly now, slightly strained. “So eager.”

You whimpered in response, hips now bucking towards his touch. Your reaction seemed to pull a quiet, almost dazed chuckle from him before his lips found your thigh again.

“Who knew you were so desperate for the Dean's assistant.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he threw your own words back at you.

“Viktor-” you breathed, a mixture of frustration and need clawing its way out of you.

Before you could protest further two long fingers slid inside of you, the sudden fullness stealing the words from your mouth and replacing them with a keening moan. His thumb continued its maddeningly slow assault of your clit and he watched you with a hungry gaze. He leaned in closer again, breathing out against your skin as he kissed back towards your center. His movements were unhurried despite the way you writhed under him.

“Say my name again.” His voice was low, and you barely processed his words, your focus splintering when his fingers started moving faster. Still, you managed to respond, his name tumbling weakly past your lips. It seemed to satisfy him, a quiet hum vibrating across your skin as his mouth replaced his thumb. The first pull of his lips against your clit had you reeling, crying out as your head fell back against the table.

His name slipped from your mouth again, more fervently this time and he rewarded you by suckling gently, tongue teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thighs trembled around him, his free hand now pressing against your hip to steady you, though you could feel his grip tightened each time you squirmed.

Your fingers found their way back to the brown threads of his hair, pulling lightly as you grind your hips into his mouth. His fingers curled inside of you at just the right angle, sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you and your walls clenching around him. This time, though, it was Viktor who moaned. It was muffled and low but it reverberated right into your aching cunt, the sensation making your eyes roll back into your head as your grip on his hair tightened.

He was practically drunk on you now, lapping you up as his own arousal burned hot and insistent, cock straining in his pants. The way you pulled him in, every moan only spurred him on.

“That's it-” he cooed in a low condescending tone, breaking between teasing licks and soft kisses to your clit. “So desperate, aren't you miláčku?” He purred, words dripping with such mocking sweetness that it made you shiver.

You couldn't answer, couldn't do anything but whine and curl against him, not with his fingers bullying into you,spreading you just right while his lips brushed against you over and over. You were unraveling, quickly.

“Making such a mess,” he teased. “and on my boss's desk, no less.” a small tisk left him and he smiled against you. “What would Heimerdinger think if he walked in right now?”

It only made you burn hotter, eyes pinching shut as a strangled moan ripped its way out of you, the coil in you snapping violently. He was quick to latch back onto your clit, tongue flicking as your orgasm rolled over you. It was so overwhelming your body twisted and writhed in an attempt to escape, your voice cracked as you wailed his name. Yet he was nothing if not stubborn. His arm tightened around your thigh, pinning you in place. He refused to let up until he had you on the brink of overstimulation, cunt drooling against his hand, tears pricking your eyes as your entire body convulsed under him.

Only once he was satisfied he'd drawn every last tremor did he finally relent. He slowed, pressing a few more soft kisses along your thighs. You were an utter mess, panting, boneless body thrumming from the aftershock while your head lulled. Viktor lifted himself from the floor, hands smoothing over your thighs as his gaze raked over you. A smug grin pulled at his swollen lips, hair disheveled, and heat rose to your cheeks again.

“You're stunning like this.” His tone was thick with satisfaction.

You huffed in response, a sheepish smile forming on your face. Forcing your tired body up from the bench your hands found his collar again, pulling him in for another kiss. He gladly accepted, the taste of yourself lingering on his lips. Quietly you pushed him back towards his chair, a playful glint in your eye.

“Your turn.”

©lilsworks 2024

[a99jazzybean]

Midnight Snack

Chapter 1

Ch. 2

synop: Viktor is tired of his snacks being stolen, so he takes matters into his own hands. He plans to drug Jayce with aphrodisiac laced chocolates. Little does he know that you have participated in the thievery as well. Both you and Jayce face the consequences for your actions.

words: 5.2K

includes: smut, jaycexfem!reader, viktorxfem!reader, jayvik, non-consensual drugging, aphrodisiacs

a/n: This is some pure self indulgence. 18+ readers only!

It was a trap, one that you and Jayce were about to unknowingly step into. After months of your shenanigans, Viktor had enough. Now he would take matters into his own hands. Maybe now you would think twice before stealing from his snack stash. 

When you first spotted Viktor pecking away at some crackers, you had wondered where they had appeared from. He told you his doctor recommended he actually eat for once in order to not be exhausted by the end of the day, so his solution was to house a cabinet of treats for himself. While it still wasn’t the healthiest, at least he was getting some calories in. 

However, he found he wasn’t the only one that could be peckish in the lab. Jayce with his endless stomach had been polite at first. Asking if he could snag a bag of peanuts, requesting a bite from a chocolate bar, but then he became a bit too familiar with Viktor’s snack cabinet. Viktor often found the other man brazenly eating a bag of chips or enjoying a sweet treat without a single “please.” It wasn’t as if he couldn’t buy something himself. But no, Viktor’s snack stash was just “too convenient.” 

You on the other hand had maintained a polite presence. Always asking Viktor to indulge in his treats. Though with you, he doubted he would find it annoying that you took without asking. He even made sure to have snacks that you enjoyed on hand, loving the way you would light up when you found your favorite foods housed in his cabinet. Bouncing on your toes as you asked if you could snag a bag. Of course, he would allow you to. He could never say no to you. 

What he didn’t know was that you were no better than Jayce. While you might have asked for snacks when Viktor was around, if he wasn’t in the lab you could be a little greedy with his snack cabinet. If Viktor noticed something was missing, you would keep to yourself. Not wanting to throw Jayce under the bus as he knew of your secret proclivities. 

The two of you shared sneaky giggles as you picked away at the food when you worked together alone. Indulging in your favorite treats, Viktor none-the-wiser to your antics. Though, he did know Jayce was behind much of the disappearances. He hadn’t realized that you joined Jayce in the snack stealing, and you would prefer to keep it that way. 

Now, Viktor was irritated. His eye twitched as he looked at the almost empty container of pastries filled with sweet cream. This had to stop. His head whipped over to where Jayce was seated. The man was carefully soldering some new components with you beside him, handing him any small tools he requested. Narrowing his eyes at the thief, Viktor thought about how to take his revenge. He had been looking forward to indulging in some sweets that day, and now he was left with two sad pastries. It was infuriating. 

When he looked over at you, a small smile playing on your lips, an idea came to him. Sinister, yes, but it would be oh so gratifying. His attraction to you inspiring a devilish concept that would utterly ruin Jayce, but be wildly entertaining for him. 

“Everything good, V?” Your voice startled the man out of his plotting, jolting as he registered your presence beside him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

He turned to you, a concerned look furrowing your brows. You had noticed him staring at the snack cabinet for a few minutes. A pang of guilt hit you when you had remembered how many of the snacks you had taken the previous night. Viktor decided to turn in early for the night. It was a rare opportunity for you, so you and Jayce took advantage of his absence. Nervously you bit your lip as you waited for Viktor to respond to you. 

“I’m fine. Just a bit irritated,” he grumbled, “Jayce appears to still have no morals. Still  stealing my snacks without permission.” 

“Sorry, V. He’s just got a bottomless pit of a stomach.” You attempted to lighten Viktor’s disdain. 

He only huffed at your words. Grabbing one of the remaining bags of peanuts, he turned away. 

“Feel free to take anything though. I know you’re kind enough to ask.” Viktor said as he pulled the bag open. 

Guilt panged in your stomach as you looked in the cabinet. You decided you would refill it yourself. It was the least you could do for the man, especially since he gladly shared his treats with you. 

“I’ll be sure to replenish your stock, V.” You gave him a smile, hoping your eyes weren’t swimming with guilt.

If he noticed your expression, he didn’t say anything.Instead giving you a smile of his own, the curve of his lip accenting the mole above it. Drawing your eyes to his lips… 

You shook your head, you knew it was unprofessional to be thinking about Viktor in that way. He was your superior after all, but you still indulged in the fantasy of him every so often. 

With a nod, Viktor returned to his workstation. His eyes lingered on you as you made your way back to Jayce. He felt jealousy bubble up in his chest. While you were both their assistant, you often worked with Jayce. Viktor tended to be a one-man band at times and rarely needed help. Jayce was consistently asking for your assistance with tasks, often finding himself working on projects that required two sets of hands. Most of your time in the lab was monopolized by the golden boy, and it might have been a bit intentional on his part.

Jayce wasn’t an idiot. He could tell that Viktor was attracted to you, and well, he had to admit to himself he was as well. Extremely intelligent both in book and streetsmarts, and absolutely gorgeous to boot. When Heimerdinger offered you up as an assistant, the two scrambled to accept the offer after one meeting. Not only would they have someone competent working with them, you could certainly liven up the place. 

Liven it up, you did. Your laughter echoing in the large room, your words of encouragement caressing their egos, your murmurs of determination as you struggled on a project by yourself. While you were intelligent, it seemed you could be a bit oblivious. The men tried, they really did, but their favoritism toward you was blatant. Geez, Viktor always bought you your favorite snacks. Jayce was no better, finding excuses to give you gadgets and little novelties he had created in the forge. Though could you blame them? It was you, and they wanted you. 

However, all of you still managed to keep up some facade of professionalism. Only considering the actions as something a close friend would do. A close friend that would make sure to hug you before leaving the lab. A close friend that would tuck your hair behind your ear for you. A close friend who may stare into your eyes a second too long. A close friend, yes, that’s all. 

Viktor shoved the brewing feelings down, returning to his work on new Hexgem prototypes. Pretending he didn’t feel a sting when you laughed once more at a joke from Jayce. One that was probably terrible, but had you giggling regardless. It was fine, after all, Viktor knew the other man would get his commuppance soon enough. 

As the sun set in the lab, you found your eyelids began to droop. Your body kept jolting you up whenever Jayce requested a tool or part from you. Exhaustion was settling in. Jayce paused, softly smiling as he caught you falling asleep once more. A strong hand jolted you awake again. An apologetic look was on your face when you realized Jayce had caught you. 

“Why don’t we get you home, hm?” His hazel eyes glittered in the light of the golden hour. 

You nodded. 

“I can walk you back to your place, if you want.” He offered. While his work at the lab wasn’t over just yet, he wanted to spend more time with you. 

“I would like that.” You said softly, trying not to look into his eyes. 

Often, you found yourself worrying that the men would discover your affections for them. It made you skittish at times, concerned your words or actions would come off in the wrong way. Still, despite it being more intimate, you always took them up on their offers. Whether it was to snag lunch, or walk you home, you gratefully accepted. Always wanting more of their time and attention. 

Viktor watched the interaction out of the corner of his eye. Biting his tongue, he huffed out his frustration. Once again, Jayce had gotten to you first. He couldn’t blame his partner though. Jayce had a charisma that Viktor did not possess. Still, he had managed to grab your time quite frequently. Something that aided in pushing his worries aside. Overall, the men were mostly equal in their interactions with you.

You did find yourself working with Jayce more than Viktor, but the latter man would find time to pull you into conversation during the many lull periods you would find yourselves in. The moments only made Viktor’s affections for you grow further, it was a blessing and a curse. You were a delicious distraction. 

“Alright, I’m packed up.” You patted the satchel hung around your shoulder. “Ready?” You turned to Jayce.

“Yup. I’ll be right back.” Jayce squeezed Viktor’s shoulder. 

The evening was pleasantly warm as Jayce escorted you to your apartment. Golden rays of sun licked the rooftops of Piltover casting a glow over the two of you. Jayce often seemed to radiate his own light, in this moment he looked almost angelic. Catching you staring, he gave you a smirk.

“Like what you see?” He teased. 

A blush bloomed on your face as you shook your head side to side. “I-it’s not like that. I just thought the sun on you looked neat.” 

“Neat? Hm, I’ll take it.” He shrugged with a chuckle, enjoying your flustered state. 

“You’re kinda cruel, you know?” You grumbled.

“Cruel, me? No…” He eyed you, waiting for a snippy retort.

Instead, you turned away from him with a huff. 

“Aww, don’t be like that.” He cooed. 

A strong hand reached for your chin, lightly forcing you to turn your attention back on him. 

The way your eyes glowed in the sunlight made him hold back a gasp. He shouldn’t indulge in this. All he was supposed to do was escort you home like the gentleman he was, but gods did he wish he could enjoy more of this. 

“Is everything alright?” You reached for the hand on your chin and removed it. 

Your touch brought Jayce back from his thoughts. Right, escorting. 

“Uh yeah. I was just enjoying the sunset.” He said softly. 

Cocking your head to the side, you raised a questioning brow. Oh, you were too cute. Jayce very much wished to kiss that confused pout on your lips. Instead he wet his own, and turned away to continue walking to your home. 

He was sure it would only be a matter of time before he cracked. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you returned to the lab the next morning, you found a very pleased Viktor. Curious, you walked over to him. In his hands he held a box of chocolates. A note was stuck to it, and Viktor looked down on it with a smile. 

“What’s up?” You asked, curious as to what confections were inside the box.

“Oh nothing, I just received a nice gift from one of our sponsors.” He chuckled to himself.

It was a ruse, something to entice Jayce. He knew that the man would gladly take the bait.

Right on time, Jayce entered the lab. 

“Something going on?” He asked as he made his way over. 

“Yeah, Viktor got a gift from one of the Hextech sponsors. I’m a bit jealous.” You said, arms crossed in annoyance.

“Did I get something?” Jayce’s eyes twinkled at the thought of a sweet treat.

“It appears you did not. Though the note that was given to me did specify work that I did on stabilizing the Hexgates…”

“I was working on the Hexgems! And it was easily a one man job.” Jayce grumbled.

“A one man job that got me a gift.” Viktor shook the box in front of Jayce’s face.

“You gonna share?” You asked. 

Oh. Viktor was not prepared for that. Guess he’d have to let you down lightly.

“Sorry dear, I think I’ll keep these to myself.” He looked over to his snack cabinet. “Especially considering someone keeps indulging in my other sweets.” He said pointedly at Jayce.

Jayce’s eyes flitted to your face and you subtly shook your head at him. Eyes narrowing at even his thought of betraying you. 

“I guess you have a point.” He dejectedly walked over to his workspace. 

Pulling your satchel to the front, you opened it and grabbed a few bags. They held snacks to replenish Viktor's stash. 

“Speaking of your snacks, I brought refills.” You shook the bags for emphasis.

Viktor gave you a bright smile. The one that had you looking at his lips once more. 

The action made his heart swell. Of course you would do this for him, sweeter than the treats you had bought him.

“I appreciate the gesture, but don’t feel the need to make up for Jayce’s transgressions.” Viktor took some of the bags from you.

“Transgressions? You’re making it sound like Jayce offended you…” You chuckled awkwardly. That sting of guilt returning. 

“I mean, I eat your snacks all the time too.”

“Yes, but you ask me to. Something my partner seems to forget at times…” He eyed the man who had begun working. 

“Well, don’t be too hard on him.” You said, giving Viktor a small smile.

He nodded, then moved to place the snacks in his cabinet. You hoped he didn’t realize that you were complicit in the thievery. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly. You worked alongside both of the men as they worked on a prototype for a small generator. They were attempting to make Hextech work on a smaller scale. The Hexgates were able to handle energy output due to their massive size, now they were looking to make the technology more portable. 

After many long hours, Viktor decided to turn in for the night. You decided to stay and assist Jayce with more of the project as the man was on a roll. A few minutes after Viktor exited the lab, Jayce turned to you with a cheeky smile. 

“So, you wanna try those fancy chocolates Viktor got?” 

“I don’t know Jayce…” you thought for a moment, “Viktor did seem pretty irked that we’ve stolen from him.” 

“Yeah, but he thinks only I have stolen his snacks. You’re in the clear, Miss goody-two-shoes.” He chuckled. “Though I feel like you owe me for keeping your name out of my ‘transgressions’.” He put his fingers up in quotation marks.

“I guess…” You mumbled.

“So… try the chocolates with me?” His hazel eyes pleaded with you. 

With a huff, you nodded. What could be the harm? Jayce would be blamed for it after all…

“Fine. But it’s still all on you, got it?” You pointed a finger into his face. 

He grabbed your hand with another chuckle. 

“Of course.”

With that, Jayce strutted over to the snack cabinet, dragging you along with him. He pulled out the fancy box and lifted off the lid. 

“Oh, these look good.” His mouth was watering at the sight. 

Peeking over his shoulder, you felt your own mouth water. In little squares were around a dozen chocolate pieces. It was almost hard to pick what you wanted to try, they all looked delectable. Jayce grabbed a piece for himself, then offered the box to you.

“I’ll eat half so you can try the other part.” He said. 

You nodded, as you looked over the chocolates. Fingers dancing above them as you made your choice. Finally, you decided on a piece with salted caramel filling topped with sea salt. Both you and Jayce bit into the pieces in tandem, moaning at the creamy flavor. Jayce had picked a piece filled with a jam, though he couldn’t quite place the flavor. 

After swallowing your half of the piece, you felt Jayce press his other half against your lips. You opened your mouth, allowing him to place it on your tongue. His fingers brushing past your lips, making you blush at the intimate action. Again you moaned at the taste, you too couldn’t place the flavor of the jam. It was delicious, but odd. 

You performed the same action with Jayce, placing the other half of the caramel piece on his tongue. The man lightly sucked on your fingers as you pulled them out, making you softly gasp. 

Both of you stood in silence, staring at each other. Pink dusted on Jayce’s cheeks while yours flared red. 

“Anyways… probably should get back to work.” Jayce broke the silence. 

“Mhmm.” 

You returned to Jayce’s workspace, and continued to assist as he put components together. As time ticked on you felt yourself growing hot. Shrugging off your sweater, you attempted to cool down. It was already dark outside, so the sun couldn’t be the issue. Looking beside you, you noticed sweat prickling on Jayce’s forehead. 

“Are you hot?” You asked.

“Huh?” Jayce looked up at you. Something was different, but he couldn’t place it. He was feeling a bit warm though. 

“I guess I am. Mind turning the temp down?” 

You nodded and walked over to the thermostat. Your eyes widened as you realized that the temperature was fairly low. They had to keep the lab cooler due to the heat from some of the Hextech, but at the moment nothing would be producing the amount of heat you were feeling. Walking over to a vent, you felt to see if the air was working. You waited a moment, then a gust of cool air hit your hand. Okay, that’s odd.

“The temperature is already low. And the air unit seems to be working, I can feel cool air.” You said. 

“Huh, odd. Well, I’m almost done here…” In his peripheral he spotted your thighs as you returned to the workspace. 

As if acting on instinct, Jayce reached out, placing a warm hand on your thigh. The action made you squeak. So soft. He thought as he squeezed the muscle. 

“I-is everything alright, Jayce?” You attempted to maintain your composure as he began to knead your flesh. Heat began to pool in your core and you could feel the fabric of your panties dampen. What was going on?

Jayce’s hand reached up your skirt and you jolted away. An animalistic growl escaped the man. He shot up from his chair, towering over you. Looking into his eyes you realized they were blown out. His breathing was harsh. It made you shiver, you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or arousal.

Looking over at the snack cabinet an epiphany hit you. Shuffling to the side, you tried to move away from Jayce, A strong arm stopped you. Then you were pulled into the man. He nuzzled into your neck, groaning. Your body melted into him, making you release a whine.

“Fuck, since when did you smell so good?” His voice was low.

“J-jayce.” You tried to maintain your composure, you needed to check something. 

As you attempted to pull away, Jayce only pulled you in closer. 

“Don’t go.” He breathed out. “Please.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” You continued to hold off the effects of what was happening to you. Hoping your short period of clearheadedness could get you away from the man. “Just let me check something.” 

“Promise you won’t go?” 

“Promise.” 

With that he released you. You quickly made your way to the snack cabinet and pulled out the box of chocolates. Looking over it, you spotted a piece of paper attached to the bottom of the box. 

“Shit.” 

In Viktor’s handwriting you read the vindictive message out loud. 

Hope you enjoy the chocolates, asshole. 

Love, V. 

“Viktor fucking drugged us!” You exclaimed. The effects of what you now assumed was an aphrodisiac hit you like a train when Jayce returned to you. 

“He what?” Jayce asked incredulously.

“He drugged us. I-I think it’s an aphrodisiac. That’s why we’re feeling like” You motioned over yourself. “This.”

“How do we stop it?” Jayce had managed to somewhat pull himself out of the drug’s effects. 

“We can either wait it out.” You sucked in a harsh breath at the next statement. “Or…” 

“Or?” Jayce’s eyes were pleading with you.

“Or we allow the effects to take over.” 

“Are you suggesting…” He licked his lips in anticipation. 

It was growing too hot now. It was going to be too late. 

Two large hands reached for your face, then you felt Jayce’s warm lips pressed against yours. Your eyes widened as he deepened the kiss, then fluttered closed. Allowing yourself to  fall into the drug’s effects, you let out a moan. Jayce took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. Trailing along your tongue, making him groan. Pulling away, you whined. A trail of saliva snapped between you.

“You taste so fucking good.” Jayce said between kisses down your neck. 

You moaned as he kissed, bit, and sucked on the column of your throat. Marking you as his. 

“You have no idea, “ he pressed a kiss to your lips, “how badly I’ve wanted this. No, how badly I’ve needed this.” 

You nodded in agreement, buzzing off of the pleasure of his touch. 

“Please let me have you, I need you. Please.” He whined. 

“Take me, take me, Jayce. I’m yours.” You moaned as he accepted your permission. 

Strong hands lifted you onto the worktable behind you. A tearing sound had your eyes widening as you watched him rip off your blouse. Buttons scattered to the floor. Next came your bra, landing next to the remains of your blouse. Hot lips found their way to one of your nipples while Jayce used his hand to tease the other nub. You shivered and cried out at his touch. The drug made your body feel like it was on fire with pleasure.

“I need to taste you.” Jayce gasped before kneeling in front of you. 

He pulled you to the edge of the table then buried his head under your skirt. Teeth leaving love bites up your thighs as he reached his final destination. Pressing his nose against your clothed pussy made you moan. He groaned in response as he breathed in your scent. It was addicting. Over your panties, you felt his tongue lick over you. You shuddered and whined, needing the fabric gone.

As if reading your mind, the man tore off your panties. Without a care, he dived back in. Sloppily licking through your drenched folds. Groaning as he got a taste of you. Bittersweet with a delicious musk. He needed more. His tongue dove into your hole as he nosed your clit. Grabbing his hair, you ground your pussy into his face. Gasping and moaning at his ministrations. A knot was growing in your stomach, tightening with each lick and suck on your clit. 

“Jayce, ah, Jayce…” You groaned his name, earning a moan from the man. 

For only a moment he pulled away from you, the look on his face had your thighs clenching. His lips and chin were drenched with you.

“Cum on my face, please.” He begged, then dove back in. 

You cried out again, as his tongue returned to lapping at your folds. The knot growing tighter and tighter. With a suck to your clit, you screamed. Blinding pleasure, making your thighs shake around the man’s head. You felt yourself spray your slick onto the man’s awaiting mouth. He took everything you gave him. 

After easing you down from your high, Jayce pulled away from you. His eyes were glazed over in bliss. 

“You squirt.” He chuckled. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Then he dove back in, desperate to make you cum again. The action made you scream out in pleasure as he continued to lick at your overstimulated pussy. The table beneath you was gathering a pool of your release. 

Jayce brought you to your peak once more, making you cum on his face again. Your hand on his hair keeping him in place as you ground yourself into his mouth. 

When he pulled away, he had a dopey smile on his face. His eyes still blissfully glazed over. Still, he had enough wherewithal to continue what he started. 

At first you thought he was going to have you suck him off, but he swatted your hand away when you reached for him.

“Sweetheart, I need to fuck you. I need to fill you so fucking bad. Make you mine.” He was babbling to himself as he freed his cock from his pants. Then he began to rub up and down your sensitive folds. The head of his dick occasionally catching on the entrance of your pussy making you gasp. 

Looking down, your eyes widened. He was massive. Not just in length but in girth. Even though you were soaked, you wondered if he would fit inside of you. Jayce was ready to test that out. 

His blunt head pressed into you, your mouth opened in a moan. He groaned as he continued to push in. Desperately wishing to be pounding into you, but he at least realized you needed to adjust. When he was all the way in you both breathed out. Through your belly you could see the bulge of his cock, the image made heat pool in your core. He really was going to fill you, and you couldn’t wait. 

“You feel so fucking good. I need to move, please.” His eyes pleaded with you. 

You nodded, then gasped as he moved in you. Pulling out slowly, then slamming back into you. The action making you scream and writhe in pleasure. The man set a quick pace as he fucked into you. Your legs wrapped around his torso, keeping him connected to you. 

The familiar knot had returned and was building up once more. He could feel your climax on the horizon. Your pussy tightening as he hit your sweet spot. His pelvis brushing up against your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Jayce!” You gasped out as you came on his cock. 

Your climax brought him to finish. The tight gummy walls of your pussy milking every drop of cum out of the man, as if begging for him to breed you. 

As you came down from the highs of your orgasms, Jayce leaned over you. Cock still twitching inside. He pressed a hot kiss onto your lips, and you returned the kiss. Tongues intertwining. 

Inside of you, you felt the man harden again. Already ready for round two. That aphrodisiac was certainly something. 

Jayce pulled out of you, marveling at the way his cum spilled down your legs. He pulled you off the table and flipped you onto your stomach. Groaning in pleasure, he shoved his cock back inside of you. 

“So tight, so perfect…” 

He thrust into you at the perfect angle. The head of his dick hitting that gummy spot inside of you, making your orgasm come faster. Your pussy clenched around him again as you came. A loud moan escaping you as he continued to fuck you through your climax. The pleasure continuing to build. 

“Gonna--gonna fill you up. Make you mine.” He growled, leaning down and pressing his hard chest against your back. The new position making him fuck you deeper. 

Your mind was gone, all you could think about was the pure pleasure the man was giving you. The only sounds you could make were moans and gasps.

After bringing you to climax again, Jayce came in you a second time. Hot ropes shooting into you, making you shiver. 

All you could do was take it. Take everything he gave you as he manhandled your body. Claiming every part of you as his. The skin on your neck and chest was bruised with love bites. His finger prints emblazoned on your hips from his hard grip, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Jayce wouldn’t be leaving unscathed either. Your nails had dragged scratches down his back, and you left love bites of your own. Falling completely into the animalistic need to breed with the man. 

Beneath you a pool of your combined spend had gathered. It seemed the aphrodisiac gave Jayce the ability to unload into you multiple times with no need to rest. 

It had been hours since your tryst with the aphrodisiac had begun, but it didn’t look like there was an end in sight. Both of you continued to remain as horny as you were when you began. The feeling only spurred you on further, making Jayce continually cum in you as you spasmed around him. 

The two of you were too distracted with each other to notice an onlooker. Viktor had expected Jayce to be affected by the aphrodisiac, but you as well? Well that was quite the surprise, though not necessarily an unwanted one. The man knew how to end your suffering, but decided this punishment was much deserved. Though it did help to watch your fucked out face as Jayce continued to fuck his cum into you. 

When he had his fill of watching, the man made his presence known. Clearing his throat, he smirked as Jayce stopped pumping into you. The man had you in a deep mating press, his cum seeping out of your abused hole around his cock. Before Viktor could continue, Jayce groaned loudly. Cumming in you again, though no relief came with the action. 

“F-fuck you, Viktor.” He growled through clenched teeth. 

“Seems like some of you is still here after all.” Viktor mused, enjoying watching Jayce struggle. 

Beneath him you shifted your hips in a whine. It seemed as if you didn’t care that Viktor had entered the room. All you wanted was to be taken by Jayce. 

“Ah fuck.” Jayce breathed out harshly as you began to move yourself up and down his cock. 

Another orgasm was building in you as you used Jayce. He didn’t let you take control for long. Opting to slam back into you, making you climax. Your spend mixing with Jayce’s again. Your body was boneless as Jayce now used you to cum again. Another hot spurt filled you. 

“As much as I enjoy watching this, your efforts to end the effects are in vain.” Viktor said with a teasing tone in his voice. 

His hand traced down your body, making you shiver. Long deft fingers found your clit, causing you to jolt and clench down on Jayce. 

“Would you like to end this?” Viktor looked up at Jayce with dark eyes. 

Jayce nodded profusely.

“Please.” 

“Very well.” 

[hexb0nes]

HEY, THAT'S NOT HOW YOU USE A CANE! - A VIKTOR X READER SMUT FIC

word count: 1.9k

warnings: nsfw (duh), viktor gets somewhat suffocated by the reader's chest, kabe-don/pinning someone to the wall, breath play, dom!viktor, caning, degradation, dirty talk, praise, use of czech pet names (miláčku, láska), pain kink, gender-neutral reader, viktor licking the reader's "juices", reader gets fucked (or in this case, caned) dumb, press 'f' in chat for jayce)

summary: viktor's clumsiness with his cane results in some interesting results.

a/n: shoutout to nana from the simpcity discord for threatening me with a knife if i didn't finish this /j

It was an accident.

A bout of boredom had graced Viktor in the lab, unusual for the Zaunite inventor. Usually, he would work on a side project, take a walk, or visit one of the many signs Piltover had to offer whenever there was a slow day at the lab. However, the lab was eerily quiet, there was no sunny banter from Jayce or any new tasks and assignments delivered by their assistant, Miss. Young.

Quiet, too quiet. Viktor was an introvert and an occasional loner, but even he had his limits. He rose from his workstation and plucked his cane up from its position against the wall. It is lunchtime. Jayce would be upset with me if I don't eat. Viktor approached the door to the lab, I don't wish to entertain another pout or whine from him about it if he finds out that I didn't do so.

Viktor mulled over his lunch options, as he made a beeline for the elevator. With the nearby wall as support, Viktor spun his cane between his nimble fingers, an action he often did when thinking to himself. He twirled the cane like a baton while he awaited for the elevator's doors to ding open. Perhaps, I'll pay a visit to the Boundary Markets. Enzo's should be open at this-

The momentum of the spin was too much, Viktor's grip on the cane suddenly lost to the ether. In the air, it spun and spun like a boomerang until it eventually made contact with the floor.

"Oh!" a moan broke through the silence of the hallway. Viktor spluttered back a cough of surprise, his eyes followed the trajectory of the cane's path. A few feet away and on the ground, his cane laid, in addition to another person on their hands and knees with papers scattered about.

"Shit," the inventor hurried over to the injured individual, the wall acting as a makeshift aid. Viktor snatched up his cane and with that safely in his grasp, he squatted down and held out a hand, "Are you alright?" he asked.

The other person turned around, Viktor's cheeks suddenly flushing pink. He recognized your face, one of the more 'human-centric' scientists that operated on the same floor as his and Jayce's lab. During the few times that the two of you had crossed paths only ended in disaster, such as the last time where he spilled hot black coffee on your dress shirt. His cheeks shifted to a deeper shade of pink, as Viktor remembered how the stain exposed your chest in such a delightful-

He cringed at his own thoughts, You pervert! and shook the dirty memory away. You blinked up at Viktor, who seemed lost in thought from your perspective, and grabbed his hand, "Thanks, Viktor," you pulled yourself up, "That was quite a-"

You abruptly lost your footing when your shoe made contact with one of the papers on the ground, a yelp escaping your lips. Viktor attempted to respond, to catch you and prevent your fall, only to join you on the ground.

Your head collided with the linoleum floor and felt a weight fall on top of your body. Blinking rapidly, you allowed your eyes to adjust to your surroundings and called out to Viktor with a soft groan, "Vik... Viktor?"

Something vibrated against your chest, low and somewhat pained. You tilted your head up and lowered your gaze, searching for the source of the vibration. A familiar mop of chocolate waves greeted you, Viktor's face pressed firmly into your chest. You let out a squeal and Viktor immediately pushed himself up with his hands, now hovering above you, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" he apologized to you, not his characteristic calm self but rather a flustered mess.

You stared up at the inventor and scanned the situation the two of you were in. Viktor on top of you, his tie becoming undone, his hands between your sides, his red cheeks and slight panting. Your face grew hot at the position you both were in, "Viktor..."

"I'll get up, I just need-" you closed the gap between you two with a kiss, deep and desperate. Viktor let out a muffled gasp, his grip on the ground loosening and loosening until he was back on top of you. Still kissing Viktor, you wrapped your arms around his petite waist and one of your legs haphazardly bumping into his pelvis. Viktor stifled back a moan and deepened the kiss to prevent it from leaking out.

It felt like eons had passed by before you finally broke the kiss. You sat back up and assisted Viktor in getting up from the ground before you did so yourself. Viktor gawked at you like a schoolboy, eyes widen and mouth ajar.

You concealed your embarrassment with a hand blocking your face and squeezed your legs together, "I'm so sorry, I should've- I don't know why I- It's okay," the inventor cut your rambling short, "I didn't think you felt the same way," confessed Viktor.

Now, it was your turn to be surprised, "What do you mean?" you giggled, "Haven't you gotten any of my hints?"

"Hints?" now that you mentioned it, there were some oddities among Viktor's interactions with you. Jayce told him that way you smiled and tucked a loose hair behind your ear only happened when Viktor was around, but the Zaunite didn't believe him. You smile and tuck your hair a lot, that isn't unusual.

Then Viktor thought about all the times you assisted him with carrying heavy equipment to the lab, the occasional trinket or sweet you would gift him around the holidays, the compliments and the praise. Didn't you do the same for everyone else?

"Yeah, I gave you sooooo many hints!" you hummed, "I was starting to think that you didn't feel the same," Oh Gods, I am a cripple AND a idiot, "I apologize," the inventor tried to play off his naivety, "I'm not the best when it comes to gestures or hints."

"That's fair," you nodded in agreement, "I should've been direct."

"Yes, that would've made this-" Viktor's words fell short, the gears in his brain turning and the wires shooting electricity to the various synapses, "Why did you moan when my cane hit you by accident?"

You swore that you died on the spot at his question, legs shaking slightly while you tugged at your collar, "Oh! Uh, well, you see- Uhhhh..." you mumbled under your breath, "It felt nice..."

"Speak up," stated Vikor, his accent thick and his tone assertive.

You gulped, "I mean, I shouldn't say-" BAM! You found yourself trapped between the wall and Viktor, as the latter placed the handle of his cane against your throat, "Speak up, miláčku."

Your legs trembled, weak in the knees and ready to submit. Viktor pressed the cane's handle harder against your neck, pushing a wheeze of air out of your kiss-bruised lips. Another moan slipped from your mouth, as you confessed to your crush, "It felt nice."

"What a sweet láska you are," the inventor pulled back his cane from your neck and you gasped for air, your head fuzzy from the oxygen restriction, "Let's move somewhere more... private."

With bated breath, you followed Viktor obediently towards his lab. The moment he shut the door, Viktor's hands were all over you, using your body to support his legs. He groped at your sides and nipped at your neck, inciting a moan or two from you. His fingers were so long and bony, how they dug themselves into your tender flesh was exhilarating.

"I don't know what has gotten into me but," the inventor's breath was hot against your ear, as he purred, "You're driving me mad."

"As are you," you whispered back. Viktor flashed you a smile, the one Jayce told you that he only reserved for celebrations like scientific breakthroughs, "Good," he relinquished his hold on you and replaced it with his cane, "Bend over at my workstation."

"What?" you chuckled.

"Bend over" the Zaunite's free hand snaked around the collar of your neck, "At my workstation," despite his weak lower body, years spent tinkering for hours on end graced Viktor with a good share of upper body strength. You stumbled a bit and caught yourself by the edge of Viktor's workstation, some miscellaneous materials and tools scattered about. Viktor cleared off the table with the brush of his hand, allowing the supplies to fall into a plastic bucket on the other side of the workstation.

"Ready to bend over now?" the inventor questioned.

"Yes," you positioned your hands on the table and hitched your ass up for Viktor to see, "What are you gonna do to me?" you teasingly shook your ass, "What's the mean bad Viktor gonna do to little old me?"

"This," a sudden slap to your ass sent shockwaves through the lab and your body, as you moaned shamelessly. Hard, thin, and sturdy. Viktor readjusted his grip and aimed his cane at your ass once more, the wooden shaft ricocheting upon contact.

"What a little whore," the inventor 'tsk'ed at your moans, "You like getting caned, yes? You like feeling how it bounces off that beautiful ass of yours."

"I do!" you cried out, "I love it so much!"

Viktor let out a low chuckle, his voice heavy with domineering arousal, "Pull your bottoms down."

You didn't hesitate to unsheathe the lower half of your clothes, glistening slick evident between your thighs. Viktor let out a heartly laugh and ran his hand down the curve of your ass to between your thighs, "Look at how much of an effect I have on you, my sweet slut," he coated his fingers in the slick and held them up to you, "So eager for me to play with you, aren't you?" the inventor licked his fingers clear and sighed aloud, "What a heavenly taste. You ooze such a sweetness."

"Thank you," you replied, more slick rolling down your thighs. Viktor gave your ass a cheeky slap with his free hand and circled back behind you, "What a magnificent specimen you are," he ran his fingernails against your bottom, sending shivers down your spine, "I cannot wait to study you."

Before you could retort, the cane collided once again with your ass. Without the protection of your clothes, the slap was deeper and rawer than before. A sob rang out from your vocal chords, "Oh, Viktor!"

He proceeded to hit you with his cane again, and again, and again, and again until he left your ass bruised in the slap marks. You could barely hold onto the table for much longer, soft babbles emitting from your mouth. Viktor took time to admire his work, pleased with the markings. You're mine, now. Everyone can see it.

"Uhhh, Vik?"

Viktor whipped his head around and locked eyes with his lab partner, holding a paper bag and some drinks. Jayce's eyes darted between Viktor and your fucked-dumb self, "Whatcha... Whatcha doing?"

Viktor ripped off his jacket and covered your exposed half with it, noting your inability to form a complete sentence. Jayce raised his eyebrows at Viktor, waiting for an answer.

"Science," the inventor answered, "A science experiment."

[pillowspace]

Hihi!! Could I have some ISAT fic recs? Hurt/comfort is my fav but anything good is good~ Thank you!

I've read 200 ISAT fics, I'm gonna really have to think on which ones to put

Okay, here's your recs from my 200 fic scroll in no particular order <3 There's so many fics I like that I didn't put here, but I had to be picky about it so I didn't just put down everything I had

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victim of your own creation by dysphoriahighschool

Siffrin has craved blood for as long as they can remember. After so many years of wandering, he's come to Vaugarde in hope of finding answers, just as the King's Curse begins freezing the country in time. He's quickly losing hope, but when they come across a small group determined to save Vaugarde from the King, Siffrin decides to join them. They can't get the answers they want if the country gets frozen in time, after all. They'd never traveled with other people before. Siffrin doesn't expect to grow attached to any of them, but as time goes on, the thought of leaving them hurts more and more. Worse yet, they refuse to even entertain the thought of one of them discovering what he is and what he's done. They just know that if they find out, they'll hate them.

Words: 192,175 | Chapters: 32/?

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Stagger on Backwards by entryn17

[Ha… Ah?]

The fist opens. Hand turns. Fingers twirl. Again. And Again. You watch with mounting horror as your hand moves on its own, the actions becoming more frantic, more jittery, your chest starts to heave, stomach muscles spasming.

(Loop–)

[Stardust–]

They’re in your body. They’re in your body.

⯍

Or, after experiencing hundreds of grueling loops, Siffrin suddenly wakes up 3 months before they even started, on a bed in an infirmary, bandages wrapped tightly around their newly missing eye. Loop is there with them, too.

Words: 15,213 | Chapters: 3/?

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UNCANNY ALL ALONG by entryn17

You can… you can still fix this. If you can just muster up enough want, you, both of you can come back from this.

“You can’t come back from anything! Hundreds of days spent in stasis, in your own personal handcrafted hell, an ice cold inferno – you think you’re the same person you were before you laid down on that meadow?”

✧

Or, trauma changes you, often in ways that leave you unrecognizable to even yourself. Now freshly out of the loops and rough around the edges, Siffrin with the help of their friends has to navigate not being the person they remember.

Words: 33,629 | Chapters: 8/?

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Even in my fantasy, I can't commit to believing by Loafabun

You’re not sure what to think of Loop.

So far, you’ve come to two rather obvious conclusions during your time around them.

1) They’re… a star.

2) You don’t think they like you that much.

Words: 18,275 | Chapters: 3/3

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Human After All by dunkalfredo

Isabeau, freshly recovered from burnout after rushing through graduate school, stumbles across an ad for a lab position at the research institute where his idol, Dr. Odile Yamamoto, conducts her work. Willing to risk another bout of burnout to potentially work with the Dr. Yamamoto, he applies for the position and gets the job. However, in the process of applying, it quickly becomes clear that something sinister is happening at this institute. He decides to go forward and accept the offer—only to find himself in way over his head in a conspiracy far bigger than himself.

(Or: Modern AU/Sci-fi. Isabeau goes back into the world of science after swearing it off only to end up in the Vaugarde equivalent of Area 51 and finds Siffrin, a shapeshifter of unknown origins, trapped deep underground in a padded cell. Unfortunately, he falls in love. Is their romance doomed? Could Siffrin ever escape? What is Siffrin, anyway? And, importantly—how does Odile factor into all of this?)

Words: 33,697 | Chapters: 3/8

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The Funeral of Siffrin No Last Name by Kamary (SERIES of fics about ghost Siffrin)

"Ha, like, cut your ashes in equal parts like a pizza?"

(In a timeline that can not and will not take place, Siffrin dies. Unlike other times, he stays dead. Sort of.)

Words: 18,969 | Works: 3

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Inutile by blueshine

Mirabelle doesn't know what to do. Not with her life, not with her faith, not with her own memory. Why does it feel like she's always forgetting something important?

Mirabelle is the Housemaiden. Isabeau is the Fighter. Odile is the Researcher. Bonnie is the Kid. And that's everyone!

It's raining in Dormont. If clouds cover the stars, are they still there?

Separate Sifloops-

Words: 173,378 | Chapters: 23/34

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What became of you? by goldviola (Note: this one can get dark. I'm including it because I like it, but only read it if you're in that kind of mood)

After the world returned to normal, and everyone was safe and together once again, Isabeau noticed Siffrin's state. He knows they endured far beyond what he could ever hope to understand.

So a vague, earnest wish, mostly symbolic, was made, folded into a star shaped leaf gifted by a little girl.

I wish I could truly understand Siffrin, and always be there to help and love him.

Isabeau had no way of knowing The Universe would listen.

—

Or: Isabeau gets stuck in his own time loop, and does everything in his power to change it.

Words: 27,746 | Chapters: 1/1

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Of Stars and Longing by Raaj

Months after saving Vaugarde together, Isabeau spots Siffrin lingering outside the window of his clothing shop. Naturally, he's excited! The Universe granted his wish!

...It still feels a little bad he had to wish for it, though. And something seems off with Siffrin.

Words: 4,979 | Chapters: 2/2

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The love persists through it all. (The love persists through time.) by Pixxyofice

You are standing in front of a building. Nothing else is around- just a building. The building has a sign above a single door in big letters: TIME LOOP SURVIVORS SUPPORT GROUP. Hanging from that sign is a smaller sign reading Multidimensional!

... What the....

[...]

You let go of the door and look up as it clicks shut behind you.

You see

your family.

---

siffrin meets up with versions of his family who have suffered like he did. is this a blessing or a curse?

Words: 12,015 | Chapters: 1/?

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Follow the stars back home by Loafabun (note: I haven't actually finished this fic, but I'd like to!)

There's an island north of Vaugarde. You were never able to remember its name. So why now? Why after all this time?

It's so close. You can see it now.

You want to go home.

Inspired by a post on Tumblr by @/auncyen!

Words: 77,781 | Chapters: 16/16

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Thank you, kind wizard. For making me a frog. by Spinning_Planet_of_Love

With Siffrin's timelooping journey at an end, he walks away with a LOT of new information and trauma to process. Moving forward is a difficult feat, even with his family by his side.

Mirabelle suggests that, perhaps, keeping a journal to organize these thoughts and communicate his feelings to the others may help, so he decides to give it a try.

-

Contains spoilers for ALL content in ISAT, including achievements and quests dialogue, and eventually the epilogue too.

Words: 74,662 | Chapters: 18/?

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Bleeding in Monochrome by JustSalPals

You're the first one to notice.

(After the events of the game, red stayed in this world of black and white.)

Words: 3,061 | Chapters: 1/1

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And if I were not myself, would this be easier? by rabbit_soup

Siffrin and his party's journey to Bambouche, and how he needs to learn to deal with what happened to him during the loops. Between nightmares, regaining his humanity, and his new-found PTSD, Siffrin is sure he's being a burden to his family. They, however, think otherwise.

Hopefully they'll make it to Bambouche in one piece.

Or

Siffrin is traumatized and his friends love him a whole lot.

Words: 63,086 | Chapters: 13/?

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Natural Satellite by dirtbagtrashcat

After a hundred miserable loops, Siffrin makes a wish. Isabeau gets caught in the crossfire.

(…yes, it’s another Isa Loops AU. but hear me out! rock might beat scissors, but there’s no stone in the cosmos that can resist the gravitational pull of a star.)

Words: 55,043 | Chapters: 14/14

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Bloom by Level99Eevee

After breaking free of the loops, Siffrin is more than ready to move on and enjoy life again. They’re with their family—their friends—for another journey, one without the King’s Curse nipping at their heels, and everyone will be together for the foreseeable future. So Siffrin is fine. Great, even! The others don’t need to know that the aftermath of their experience in Dormont still hangs heavy as a noose around their neck.

They just need to get over it.

-

Or: Siffrin has trauma, learning to open up is a process, and the others realize the loops left deeper scars than previously thought.

Words: 41,445 | Chapters: 7/7

To Cut You Open With a Knife and Find Your Sacred Heart by Hexea_Art

They didn't know how they remembered but they both knew that there are legends about these fae doppelgangers, that they wish for nothing more than to steal the heart of the person whose face they stole, for power, for acceptance, to trick more people, to lessen how uncanny they could be.

Either way, it's a death wish to be around someone who shares the same face.

So of course Siffrin and Loop decided to travel together.

(Aka an ISAT changeling AU)

Words: 73,358 | Chapters: 19/21

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raconte-moi qu’on puisse crier tout bas by bibliomaniac

After everything, Loop is struggling to find their place in the world. Siffrin is struggling to adjust to life outside the loops. Isabeau is struggling to balance his love for Siffrin with his need to keep them safe, alongside his own worries about Changing. Politely, things could be better!

But when Loop joins the party on their journey, things tilt even more drastically off course. They'll all need to reconcile their past with their present growing feelings and with the future they're beginning to want. Maybe they'll even do it, too.

It will just blinding suck along the way.

Words: 100,632 | Chapters: 17/?

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ghostlight by Kittenixie

ghostlight - a single lamp placed on stage to keep the theatre from being in total darkness after everyone’s gone.

After trying and failing to kill Siffrin to take his place, Loop tries to disappear. Siffrin makes them stay. They figure things out together.

Staying with Siffrin's party in Dormont's House of Change, Loop starts down the long, winding path towards recovery, carefully trying to navigate the complicated knot of trauma and grief that the loops have left behind.

Words: 86,075 | Chapters: 24/24

Sequel is back to one | Words: 71,525 | Chapters: 14/?

[goldfades]

friday night lights | JOE BURROW⁹ [010]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.6k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested -> how joe and reader met? we know they met in high school, sophomore year but id (and i’m sure everyone else😅) would love a little flashback chapter!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | descriptions of partying, underage drinking, kinda slowburn? shy girl x football player trope, maisie being protective, nothing else!

The first time you met Joe Burrow, he wasn’t Joe Burrow, not yet. He was just a tall, lanky sophomore quarterback with an arm everyone talked about and a quietness that made him feel like a walking question mark. Athens High was small enough that everyone knew everyone—names, faces, family stories that spread like wildfire—but Joe? He wasn’t loud enough to grab the attention of half the school, not until football season started.

You were sitting on the bleachers during a pep rally, Maisie beside you, her commentary on everything from the band’s uneven tempo to the cheerleaders’ synchronized high kicks keeping you thoroughly entertained. The players were being introduced one by one, each jogging onto the gym floor to varying levels of applause. When they called Joe’s name, the cheer was louder, a steady roar that vibrated through the walls, and you found yourself craning to see what the fuss was about.

There he was. Light blond hair a little messy, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, hands tucked into the pockets of his letterman jacket. He didn’t wave or puff out his chest like the others; he just gave the crowd a small nod before retreating to the back of the lineup. Something about him—his quiet confidence, maybe—caught your attention, and you didn’t quite know why.

“You’re staring,” Maisie muttered, not looking up from the doodle she was adding to the corner of her math notebook.

“I’m not,” you whispered back, even as your gaze lingered a second too long.

That was the beginning.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, at a biology lab you’d been forced to pair up in, that he really spoke to you. Joe wasn’t your usual seatmate, but he slid into the stool beside you with a polite nod, his long legs awkwardly folding beneath the too-short lab table. The two of you were tasked with dissecting something unreasonably gross—a frog, maybe? You couldn’t remember now. What you did remember was Joe, his steady hands cutting through the assignment with precision, and the way he chuckled softly when you accidentally dropped a scalpel.

“You’re not a fan of this, huh?” he asked, his voice low but teasing.

You wrinkled your nose. “Not all of us dream of gutting things for a living.”

“I’m not gutting anything for a living.” He smirked, a tiny flash of mischief in his otherwise calm demeanor. “I throw footballs.”

It wasn’t the smoothest line, but it was enough to make you laugh, and that laugh seemed to encourage him.

From then on, he started showing up more. A quick wave in the hallway, a quiet “Hey” as he passed you in class, and the occasional comment during shared group projects. It was nothing monumental, just small moments that began to stack, like bricks in a wall you couldn’t stop building.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Maisie warned one afternoon as the two of you sat on the steps outside the school. “Guys like him don’t date girls like us. They go for easy cheerleaders, not girls who can barely talk during a book report.”

“I can talk during a book report,” you shot back, even though it wasn’t entirely true.

Maisie raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “I’m just saying, keep it realistic. He’s an athlete. You’re… you.”

You knew Maisie didn't mean to be discouraging, she was always the realistic one between the two of you. You watched rom-com's, and was a hopeless romantic—and Maisie, well... she wasn't the romantic type. She meant well, she just didn't want to see her best friend get her heart shattered by a stupid (her words, not yours) blonde quarterback.

But despite her skepticism, you couldn’t stop yourself. Each time Joe said your name or offered a lopsided grin in passing, the crush rooted itself deeper. It was innocent, for now, a quiet hope you kept tucked away like a secret note in your locker.

And then one day, Joe did something that changed everything. Something so small, so simple, that it left you reeling. He stopped you in the hallway between classes, his book bag slung over one shoulder, his blue eyes holding yours for just a beat too long.

“You going to the game Friday?” he asked.

You blinked, startled. “Uh… maybe?”

“You should.” He shrugged, shifting on his feet. “It’s gonna be a good one.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, your heart thudding in your chest like a drumline warming up before a halftime show.

The walk to Maisie’s car after school was peppered with her usual commentary about the injustices of teenage life. Something about how the cafeteria's pizza was an actual health violation, how Mr. Harper’s pop quizzes were a form of psychological torture, and how group projects should be banned by law.

You let her vent, only half-listening, your mind replaying Joe’s voice: “You should.” It wasn’t like he’d asked you on a date or anything, but it was the first time he’d gone out of his way to talk to you outside of class. The possibility of seeing him again on Friday made your chest buzz, but Maisie? Convincing her was another story entirely.

“So,” you began casually as you slid into the passenger seat, trying to find the right approach. “Are you going to the game Friday?”

Maisie turned the key in the ignition, her ancient Honda sputtering to life with a groan. She shot you a sidelong glance. “Why? Are you going?”

“Maybe,” you said, a little too quickly.

Her eyebrows rose as she backed out of the parking spot. “What’s this about? You hate football. You called it ‘organized concussion practice’ last month.”

You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “I don’t hate it. And it’s not like I’m going for the game. I just thought it might be fun, you know? Something different.”

Maisie narrowed her eyes, the car bouncing slightly as it hit a pothole. “Different like sitting in the freezing cold with half the school, pretending to care about a sport we don’t understand?”

“You don’t have to pretend to care.” You grinned, nudging her arm. “You can sit there and make fun of people like you always do. It’ll be fun. Besides, you never know, you might actually enjoy it.”

She snorted. “The only thing I’d enjoy is the halftime show. And even that’s debatable.”

“Come on,” you said, dragging out the words in a way you knew would get under her skin. “We haven’t gone to a single game this year. Don’t you think it’s time to show a little school spirit?”

“I have plenty of spirit,” Maisie deadpanned. “It’s just not for sports. My spirit is reserved for things that matter, like protests and pizza Fridays.”

You groaned, leaning your head back against the seat. “Maisie, please. Just this once?”

She glanced at you, her expression softening ever so slightly. Maisie might’ve been a certified cynic, but she wasn’t immune to the rare moments when you genuinely wanted something.

“Why are you so set on this?” she asked finally, her tone skeptical but not dismissive.

You hesitated, the truth bubbling at the edge of your lips. “I don’t know. It just… feels like something I should do.”

Her eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the road. She let out a dramatic sigh, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Fine. I’ll go. But if anyone spills nacho cheese on me or tries to talk to me about touchdowns, I’m leaving.”

“Deal.” You grinned, relief flooding through you.

Maisie muttered something under her breath about friendship being a burden, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. You knew she’d show up in her usual no-nonsense way, probably armed with a thermos of hot cocoa and a thousand sarcastic comments, but she’d be there.

And as the two of you drove home, her complaining fading into the background, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Friday night would be more than you’d ever expected.

┈┈┈

The bleachers were packed, the air alive with the buzz of small-town Friday night energy. The faint smell of concession stand hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the sharp chill of early autumn. You tugged your jacket tighter around you, glancing at Maisie, who sat next to you with an impressive scowl already forming on her face.

“See?” she said, motioning to the field where the players were warming up. “Organized concussion practice. Case in point.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “You promised you’d keep the snark to a minimum.”

Maisie held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. But if someone tries to start a chant near me, all bets are off.”

The two of you settled in with a group from your biology class—a group you hadn’t hung out with outside of school before but were surprisingly easy to be around. They handed out popcorn, passed around a bag of Sour Patch Kids, and made corny jokes that Maisie laughed at more than she’d ever admit. Even you found yourself relaxing, letting the game wash over you as something fun instead of a chore.

“Okay, what’s happening now?” Maisie leaned over to whisper as the players jogged off the field and the marching band took their place.

“Halftime,” you explained. “This is the part you said you might like.”

She raised an eyebrow, watching as the band launched into a spirited rendition of some pop song from two summers ago. “Well,” she said slowly, “it’s not bad. Kind of catchy.”

You grinned, nudging her. “See? Told you this wouldn’t be so terrible.”

“Don’t get cocky,” she warned, but there was no venom in her tone.

By the fourth quarter, even Maisie seemed invested, clapping lightly when your school scored and muttering curses when the refs made questionable calls. You didn’t know what surprised you more—that Maisie was actually having fun or that you were, too.

But as the clock ticked down to the final minutes, you couldn’t help but scan the sidelines, searching for the number nine jersey. Joe had been on fire all night, his throws sharp and precise, his presence commanding even from this far up in the stands.

When the buzzer sounded, signaling your school’s victory, the bleachers erupted in cheers. Maisie rolled her eyes at the whooping and hollering but clapped politely.

“Alright,” she said, standing and stretching. “You got your football experience. Can we go now?”

“Just a sec,” you said, your gaze locked on the field.

You spotted Joe near the fifty-yard line, surrounded by teammates and fans congratulating him. But it wasn’t the crowd that caught your attention—it was her.

A girl with shiny brown hair and a bright smile leaned in close to Joe, saying something you couldn’t hear from this distance. She had that effortless kind of prettiness that made you feel frumpy in comparison, and the familiarity with which she touched his arm sent a pang through your chest.

Then he hugged her.

It wasn’t a quick, congratulatory pat on the back, either. It was one of those hugs that lingered, the kind that looked like it belonged in a rom-com montage.

Your stomach dropped.

“Hey,” Maisie said, nudging you. “You good?”

You forced yourself to nod, blinking rapidly against the sting in your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Maisie frowned, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push. As the two of you made your way down the bleachers, you couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Joe was still standing there, his arm slung casually around the girl’s shoulders, his grin easy and warm.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you told yourself. He wasn’t yours. Not really.

But as Maisie led you out of the stadium, chattering about the game, you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest—the kind of ache that only comes when you realize you care about someone more than they care about you.

The girls from your biology class caught up with you just as you and Maisie were about to leave the parking lot. They were breathless and giggling, their faces flushed from the cool night air and the excitement of the game.

“Hey!” one of them called, waving you down. “There’s a party at Megan’s house—like, right now. You guys should totally come!”

Maisie raised an eyebrow, already halfway in the car. “A party? At Megan’s? Isn’t she the one who turned the chem lab into a glitter bomb last year?”

“That was iconic,” one of the girls said with a laugh. “Come on, it’ll be fun! You can’t just go home after a game like that.”

You hesitated. Parties weren’t really your thing, and you could already see Maisie gearing up for a sarcastic excuse to say no. But something in you—the part still stinging from seeing Joe hug that girl—felt like rebelling. Like shaking off the evening’s disappointment and pretending, for a little while, that you weren’t someone who usually played it safe.

“Why the hell not?” you said, surprising even yourself.

Maisie froze, her hand on the car door. “Excuse me, what?”

“Come on,” you said, grabbing her arm. “Let’s go. It’ll be fun!”

Maisie groaned but let you pull her along. “You owe me for this.”

Megan’s house was already packed by the time you arrived, music thumping loud enough to shake the front porch. The air was thick with the smell of beer and cheap perfume, and the living room was crowded with people laughing, dancing, and shouting over each other.

It started with a drink—just one, you told yourself, to loosen up. But one turned into two, and before you knew it, the edges of the world felt softer, the music louder, and your inhibitions practically nonexistent.

You danced in the middle of the living room, your arms thrown around the girls from your biology class, laughing so hard your sides ached. Maisie watched from the couch, shaking her head but smiling faintly at your antics.

The party had only grown wilder as the night went on. The living room was now packed shoulder-to-shoulder, the music loud enough to make the floor vibrate under your feet. You were too buzzed to care about the sweaty press of bodies or the occasional elbow that jabbed you in the side.

Maisie was still parked in her corner, sipping from a plastic cup and looking suspiciously at anyone who came too close. Your biology classmates were dancing near the kitchen, laughing so loudly you could hear them over the music.

And then you saw him.

Joe stood by the far wall with a cluster of his teammates, their broad shoulders and easy grins making them look like they owned the room. He was in the middle of laughing at something, his head tilted back and eyes crinkled in that stupidly charming way. You should’ve looked away, walked the other direction, anything.

But you didn’t.

You blinked hard, trying to ignore the ache in your chest, and did the only thing that made sense in the moment—you grabbed another shot from a passing tray and threw it back. The burn of the alcohol made you wince, but it dulled the edges of your hurt just enough to push you back into the safety of your friends.

Hours later, the party had become a blur. Your legs felt like jelly, the walls swayed slightly every time you moved, and even Maisie’s sharp voice sounded muffled through the haze.

“I think I need the bathroom,” you slurred to no one in particular, pushing off the couch and wobbling on unsteady feet.

“You need to sit down,” Maisie snapped, grabbing your arm.

“I’ll be fine,” you mumbled, waving her off. “Just… the bathroom.”

You stumbled into the hallway, squinting at the doors as if one of them might magically open and guide you inside. Instead, you bumped into something solid—someone, actually.

“Oh, crap, sorry—”

It was Joe.

His hands caught your arms gently to steady you, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he got a good look at you. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You yanked your arm away, wobbling but determined to keep your balance. “I’m fine,” you muttered, glaring up at him.

Joe frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “You don’t look fine. What’s going on?”

“Nothing that’s any of your business,” you snapped, stumbling past him.

But instead of letting you go, he followed, his concern overriding any annoyance he might have felt at your tone. “You’re drunk,” he said plainly, his voice quieter now. “Where are you trying to go?”

You paused, the fog in your brain making it hard to come up with a snappy reply. “Bathroom,” you finally said, crossing your arms.

Joe nodded, stepping ahead of you. “Come on, I’ll help you find it.”

You wanted to argue, to push him away and tell him you didn’t need his help, but your legs were too wobbly, and the spinning hallway wasn’t exactly making things easier.

He walked a few paces ahead, glancing back every so often to make sure you were following. When you stumbled again, he sighed and offered his arm.

“Just take it,” he said, not unkindly. “You’re gonna fall on your face if you don’t.”

Grudgingly, you grabbed his arm, leaning into his steady warmth as he led you toward the bathroom door.

“Why are you being nice to me?” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

Joe paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. “Because I care about you, even when you’re mad at me for no reason,” he said softly.

You didn’t have a reply for that. Instead, you pushed the door open and stumbled inside, closing it behind you before he could say anything else.

And for the first time all night, you let yourself breathe.

The bathroom was a blur of fluorescent light and tiled walls, and you were grateful for the brief reprieve from the chaotic party outside. Splashing cold water on your face helped a little, but the dizziness still lingered, and standing upright felt like a Herculean effort.

You took a deep breath, steadied yourself, and opened the door, stepping out with as much dignity as you could muster—which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. Your foot caught the edge of the rug, and before you could even process what was happening, gravity had its way.

But you didn’t hit the ground.

Joe caught you, his hands firm on your arms as he steadied you. “Whoa, easy,” he said, his voice low and calm. “I told you you’d fall if you weren’t careful.”

You glared up at him, more out of stubbornness than actual anger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” He didn’t let go right away, his eyes scanning your face like he was checking for signs of serious damage. “Come on, you need to drink some water.”

“I don’t need anything,” you shot back, trying to pull away.

Joe’s grip loosened, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he reached for a nearby table and grabbed a half-full bottle of water, holding it out to you. “Just drink it. Please.”

You crossed your arms, teetering slightly on your feet. “I said I’m fine.”

“Y/N.” His tone was firmer now, his brow furrowing in that way that made him look unfairly mature for a high schooler. “You’re going to feel worse if you don’t drink this.”

You stared at the bottle like it was some kind of enemy, but the dizziness was getting worse, and deep down, you knew he was right. With a heavy sigh, you snatched it from his hand.

“Fine,” you muttered, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“More than that,” Joe said, crossing his arms as he watched you.

You gave him an exaggerated eye roll but obliged, taking a few bigger gulps. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he replied dryly, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could respond with another sarcastic remark, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“There you are!” Maisie appeared, her expression a mix of relief and exasperation. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I’m fine,” you said, though the wobble in your step betrayed you as you tried to stand straighter.

Maisie’s eyes narrowed as she glanced between you and Joe. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Joe nodded, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze on you. “Good. She needs to get home.”

“Don’t tell me what I already know, Burrow,” Maisie snapped, looping her arm around yours to steady you.

Joe ignored her jab, his focus still on you. “Get home safe, okay?”

You hesitated, the mix of hurt and exhaustion making your chest tighten. But something in his tone softened the edges of your frustration.

“Thanks,” you murmured quietly, avoiding his eyes.

Maisie tugged you toward the door, muttering something under her breath about quarterbacks and their egos. And as the two of you stepped out into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but glance back once, catching Joe’s silhouette in the doorway before Maisie pulled you forward, back into the safety of the night.

The weekend had come and gone, leaving behind a swirl of emotions and half-remembered moments that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Every time you thought about the party—about Joe, specifically—you felt a warm flush crawl up your neck, a mixture of embarrassment and residual irritation.

By Monday morning, you were determined to put it behind you. High school wasn’t exactly forgiving, and you didn’t need rumors or awkwardness to complicate things further. But as you moved through the crowded hallways, your resolve was tested.

“Hey, Y/N.”

That voice was unmistakable, and it froze you in your tracks. You turned to see Joe, casually leaning against a locker like he hadn’t caused your entire weekend to spiral into emotional chaos.

“What do you want?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively.

Joe blinked, surprised by the sharpness in your tone, but he quickly recovered, his calm demeanor intact. “Nothing. Just saying hi. How was your weekend?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

He tilted his head slightly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Yeah… why wouldn’t I be?”

It was the last straw. The memory of him laughing with that girl at the game—hugging her—flashed in your mind, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out.

“Why don’t you ask your girl instead?” Your voice was biting, louder than you intended, and a couple of students walking by glanced over curiously.

Joe straightened, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The girl from the game,” you snapped. “You were all over her. Maybe you should talk to her instead of bothering me.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, the hallway noise fading into the background. Then, to your utter disbelief, his lips curved into a slight smirk.

“That?” he said, his tone dripping with casual dismissal. “That wasn’t anything. My teammates set it up, said she wanted to meet me. It was awkward as hell.”

You blinked, thrown off balance. “Oh.”

His smirk deepened, and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “You got all worked up over that, huh?”

“I wasn’t—” you started, but the words died on your tongue. You couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and your silence only seemed to amuse him more.

Joe leaned in just a fraction, his voice low and teasing. “You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous, you know that?”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you muttered, your face heating up.

“Sure you weren’t.”

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. Joe didn’t wait for you to gather your dignity; he just fell into step beside you as if nothing had happened, launching into some story about his weekend. You were too flustered to do anything but follow along, grateful he wasn’t pressing the issue further.

By the time you slid into your seat in class, the embarrassment had settled into a dull thrum, manageable but still present. Unfortunately for you, Joe wasn’t done.

“Hey,” he said, leaning over slightly so only you could hear. “Do you have a crush on me or something?”

The question was delivered so casually, with that same damn smirk, that it took a second to register. Your head snapped toward him, your eyes wide. “What? No!”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” you hissed, your face feeling hotter by the second.

Joe chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an air of victory. “Whatever you say.”

You glared at him, but he just winked, turning his attention to the teacher as if he hadn’t just completely unraveled you.

For the rest of the class, you couldn’t focus on a single thing except the stupid, smug boy sitting next to you. And, much to your chagrin, the smallest part of you couldn’t help but feel a little flattered.

After that Monday, things shifted. Slowly, but surely, you and Joe began spending more time together. It started with small things—casual conversations during passing periods, shared laughs in class, and stolen moments after school. Joe had this way of sneaking past your walls, of making you laugh when you wanted to roll your eyes. And you couldn’t deny how easy it was to be around him, even when Maisie shot you knowing looks, muttering, "Don’t get your hopes up.”

By the end of the football season, it felt natural to meet him after games, even if it was just to say a quick hello or give him a high-five. But one game—toward the end of the season—was different. You could tell something was on his mind, the way he fidgeted and avoided eye contact as you approached him on the field, your jacket pulled tight against the November chill.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

“Hey, good game,” you replied, smiling up at him.

“Thanks.” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he did when he was nervous. “Uh… I wanted to ask you something.”

Your heart did a little flip. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. “Would you… uh, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before a wide smile spread across your face. “Yes.”

Joe’s face lit up like you’d just handed him a championship trophy. Without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off the ground, spinning you in a circle as you laughed, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. When he set you down, he was grinning like an idiot.

“Really?” he asked, still holding onto you.

“Really,” you said, laughing at his excitement.

From that moment on, you were inseparable.

High school with Joe was a whirlwind of late-night drives, studying together at the library (where he mostly distracted you), and cheering him on from the stands. He became your biggest supporter, whether it was at your own events or just encouraging you through tough classes.

Maisie, of course, remained skeptical of Joe for a while, but even she had to admit he wasn’t the worst when he went out of his way to make sure you were happy.

High school was full of memories like that—Joe getting overly competitive during group projects, Maisie rolling her eyes at his antics, and the three of you becoming an unlikely trio. But the sweetest moments were the quiet ones: Joe waiting by your locker with his easy smile, the two of you walking hand-in-hand through the halls, and the way he always made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

By the time graduation rolled around, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And from the way he looked at you as you crossed the stage, you knew he felt the same.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[brailsthesmolgurl]

Remember me?

Preview: You had gotten into a terrible accident. What happens when your memory of him had faded? What would he do to regain your love for him?

Warnings: Angst with comfort. Suggestive as well ;)

P.S: Xavier girlies really be getting a treat because I made sure to make his part a little longer than usual as i always struggled with writing Xavier :,)

ZAYNE

Rushing into the ER, Zayne’s footsteps came to a sudden halt when he watched you getting pushed into a room on a stretcher, a crash cart finding its way next to your side. He had received a call from your colleague Tara, crying on the phone explaining that your heroic actions had been a disastrous one as your were outnumbered by a sudden influx of wanderers. You managed to kill most of them, but in return, you too sustained some severe injuries.

Prior to Tara's call, you had tried to call Zayne, or in fact, just trying to reach out to anyone possible as you knew that you were not going to pull through the next hit. But as you were about to press the green dial button, a wanderer charged towards you from behind and successfully knocked you down. You would have easily avoided that collision if you were not in such a weakened and drained state. When your back hit the ground, your vision immediately turned black like a television that got turned off.

“Dr. Zayne, you have to leave.” The attending instructed the nurses to push him back but Zayne turned, knowing the Hippocratic oath he had taken had to be respected as the other doctors would serve you within your best interest. The man returned to his office, his mind a blank slate as he did not know nor expected to see you in such a condition. You were knocked out cold, blood painting your face as it flowed down from the top of your scalp. Your clothes were torn and roughed up, showing lacerations that calls for infections. Doctors and nurses in the ER swarmed you, tugging off the covers to reveal a gaping hole on the side of your hip.

He could not bring his feet to leave, stagnant at his current spot as he watched nurses intubated you, doctors drawing cultures from your body so it could be tested in the lab. It did not fazed him when this is a norm for him on a daily basis, yet he could not help but to be bothered at the fact he could not do anything as he watched you from the point of a bystander. The memories of you laying in the scarlet tainted bed would never be out of his mind ever again.

The next day, Zayne stopped by your room during his lunch break, a paper cup in his hand, filled with hot chocolate. His lunch break would usually be spent in his room, with one of the nurses stopping by to hand him his meal and he shall eat in peace in his office while going through patient files or simply read a book for his own entertainment. But it is different this time, he had abandoned his lunch break routine just to stand at the window that views directly into your room.

He mentally counted the amount of tubes that were attached to your limbs. Two IV poles stood on each side of your bed, like guards on duty, holding up packs of liquid substances that works to provide nutrients for your injured body. Your face had a couple of plasters on them, mimicking patches of your skin, while protecting your wounds from getting contaminated. Zayne had to constantly remind himself that you were just taking a nap but his logical mind would not let him succumb to those imaginary thoughts. You are in fact, in a concussed state.

It took two days for Zayne to receive a notification from his pager informing him about you regaining consciousness and the cardiologist was quick to dismiss his current patient, jotting a quick prescription and handing it to them. When he was asked why was he in a hurry, he came up with a banal excuse that has something to do with a toilet break and he rushed out of his room with hasty footsteps. Taking the stairs straight to the second floor instead of riding the elevator as he has no time to waste. When he arrived at your room, he waltzed right in. Your attending stood next to you, going through the charts, chatting with one of her cohorts, fingers pointing on the chart from one end to another, perhaps discussing about another possible upcoming diagnosis.

“Y/n.” His voice was surprisingly calm as he approached you but the attending doctor of yours held him by his arm and a shake of her head indicated a warning sign. Zayne looked at the two doctors and back towards you, eyes of hazel-green meeting yours. “What is the diagnostic?”

“She had just woken up from her concussion, head trauma might suggest short-term amnesia. But it was unsure how long it would take for her to recover her memories. So, if she does not remember you, I would suggest taking things slow.” The doctor informed Zayne, her tone professional but certainly held hints of wariness. It was rare to see Zayne being emotional over a patient, let alone this patient who is not even within his care. She surely is a special one to Zayne, the attending assumed and together with her colleague, they both left the room to give Zayne and y/n some space.

You watched the guy doctor approached, his face held no emotions. You caught the black name tag on his coat, ZAYNE. He looked surprisingly young to be a doctor, it made you wonder what department he works in. His raven hair was neatly styled, framing his chiseled features well. For a moment, you had a sense of deja vu, as if you remembered him from somewhere. But the memories vaporised as soon as you tried to recall it, making this man in front of you a total mystery.

“Hi.” You smiled, cheery as ever but with a nasally voice. You figured he must care for you if he were to come and visit you during his working hours right? Zayne’s eyes lit up as he took a seat right next to your bedside. “Thanks for visiting me, although…I am not quite sure who you are. But still, thank you.” The doctor’s emerging smile dropped, realising that your amnesia would have been more serious than what was estimated.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Weeks had passed by, then came along with months but even till now, your memories remained black. You do not recall Zayne at all, his face provided not even a bit of a vague memory of both of your shared past, his voice sounded still as stoic and foreign, but you always had this bubbling feel within your belly, and it only ever comes around when you are with him. This applies for the moments when he would come to your office to pick you up, suddenly stopping by your house to hand you some of desserts that he managed to discover, and spending what you thought was unnecessary effort for someone that he 'barely knew'.

Pushing the glass door open, you stepped into a coffee shop, the waft of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries enveloped your nose. This place looked familiar to you with cosy warm lightings on all corners, booth seatings made out of plush velvet cushions and wooden tables that have carvings on it that surely cost the coffee shop a pretty penny. Your eyes scanned the occupied seats and rested upon a figure in a man in a white button up. His posture was straight, head tilted just low enough to capture the phone's screen.

Once you got close enough, the doctor reacted naturally when he spotted the outline of your shadow. He did chose to sit in an obscure corner, so if someone were to approach, he would automatically assume its you. With a tap of a button, the screen on his phone turned dark and he looked up, adjusting his spectacles that was perched on his nose bridge. “You are late.” He stated as he quietly studied your outfit for today. A white turtle neck with a pair of black jeans, put together with a black leather jacket that compliments your jet black boots. Simple but stylish. “I had already ordered for you, the usual of course.” He held up the ceramic cup and drank from it, feeling the warm coffee hitting the back of his throat, leaving a bitter trail for his taste buds.

“I’m sorry, I just got delayed by traffic but thank you for ordering for me, it was nice of you to do so.” Too nice. Ever since you had regained full range of motion and slowly got back onto your feet, you had became too nice that it was a strange phenomenon for Zayne. Low-key, he missed your borderline witty retorts and occasional petty remarks. That was a part of you that he longed for. “So, why are we here again?”

The young man swirled the coffee in his cup, watching the liquid sloshed around. “I just figured you might remember this coffee shop.” His attempt to make you remember him is still very much present and ongoing. “As this was where we had our first date.”

“Well, it does look familiar.” You looked around, taking in the view of the amazing cafe. “But, still nothing comes to my mind. I am sorry Zayne.” Another failed attempt which was already expected by Zayne the moment you had entered the doors to this cafe. Hearing you addressing his name every time was a comfort and yet a curse because you calling his name did not mean anything anymore.

The doctor sat in front of you provided both you and himself a smile of solace. “It’s alright. You do not have to apologise every time if you do not recall the memories we once had. I will just keep on trying.” The waitress then approached the both of you, laying down the desserts and pastries that Zayne had ordered. “Here, have it as much as you want. It shall be on my tab.”

Staring at the array of desserts, your vision paused at the strawberry roll. The cylindrical delicacy doused in a layer of butter and decorated heavily with fresh whipped cream and strawberries. Before you could manage to taste a piece, your daydream beckoned you, flashes of memories came along, showing visions of you eating desserts with Zayne. The both of you standing side by side, debating on which coffee would match which dessert better and finally deciding on the strawberry roll. The same strawberry roll that earned him a toothache and you eventually accompanied him to the dentist, your nags could be heard through the playback in your head. “Are you alright y/n?” Zayne’s voice interrupted your vision.

“I…I need the washroom.” You pushed your chair back and hurried off into the bathroom. Jamming yourself into one of the stalls, you sat yourself down onto the toilet cover and held your head in your palms. The throbbing pain on your frontal lob causing you to feel waves of nausea. Your breaths started quickening as you felt like you were strapped down to a roller coaster of emotions involuntarily, going through tunnels at light speeds, replaying all of your memories along the way. Then it stopped. You just sat on the toilet cover now, tears stinging your eyes as you take in your surroundings.

The day before you went onto a mission, Zayne and you had a fallout, arguing over the fact he was too busy with his schedule and constantly cancelling his meet ups with you just to attend to his patients. You knew he had an important role to play within the hospital, but his last minute cancellations was the main reason you got riled up when you confronted him about it. Not to mention his indifference further fuelled your anger. The argument that night was inconclusive, the both of you agreed to have your own time, only to result in solemn sighs and quiet cries. The next day, the fight between the both of you partially held the blame when you were in the middle of the battlefield, too drained from your lack of sleep. Then, your inability to focus while fighting Berserk Wanderers made you pay the price.

But when Zayne caught sight of you for the very first time in the stretcher, the fight never mattered anymore. If apologising would bring you back, he would have done it without hesitation. He took the blame too, silently cursing himself, questioning himself if things would have taken a better turn if he chose to hold you close and apologise for that night, to promise you that he would spend more time with you. The promise was only played out when you regained consciousness. How he wished you could have remembered, seeing that he had made time for you just the way you would have wanted him to.

He would always accompany you to your physiology appointments, visiting you often after he is done with his shifts, forgiving you every time you do not remember scenarios or locations that had played a significant part in both of your relationship. It must have been an aching journey for him. From the throbbing pain, your head started feeling heavy and you collapsed in the stall.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Waking up, your hands pushed down against satin sheets in an attempt to sit yourself up. The room you are in is definitely not yours, the pristine white walls with darkish blue accents belong to Zayne’s. Just as you thought of him, he appeared through the doorway, wooden tray in hand as he walked over to you. A cup of water with pills in a transparent plastic cup, and two pieces of bread sat on the tray. “You passed out when you were in the washroom earlier on, but I do not sense anything serious so I brought you home and figured Ibuprofen would settle your issue for now.”

“Zayne.” The way you called him made him perked his ears up as he laid the tray down. “I am sorry for everything.” He looked at you, the lights in his room casting a glow on his face, showcasing the creases in between his brows as he was confused over your apology. “I am sorry I don’t remember you.” The tears of yours got released and they flowed down your face. Your sincerity broke his guard and he leaned forward hugging you, pulling you tautly against his torso. Nobody could explain nor understand the amount of relief that was rushing through his system now, shooting endorphins and dopamines straight through the roof of his head.

He nuzzled into your neck, breaths taken in long and slow drags as he tried to calm himself down. He was never used to showing emotions but just for this one time, he could let himself loose. “You don’t have to be.” He rubbed his palms on the side of your arms, consoling you from sobbing.

“I missed you so much.” Your arms wrapped around him in return, smiling at his overwhelming response. “I really missed you. You did so much just for me.”

He pulled back, hands cupping your face immediately, sighing in relief. “I only did what was deemed necessary to bring you back to me. No matter how long it takes, I will keep on trying.” Lurching forward, your lips caught his in heated passion, thanking him for his efforts through your actions. You had missed his kisses, lips overlapping over one another then parting, allowing tongues to dance for dominance. His arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you to sit onto his lap, a tent evidently pressing against you. His other hand went to the back of your neck and he pulled back, searching your expressions for a confirmation to his further actions. “Would you like me to continue?”

“Yes.” Your one-worded answer approved of his arousal and the both of you continued kissing fervently. This time with your hands exploring the expanse of his upper torso, feeling his muscles with every touch. “I love you.”

Getting to hear those words coming from your mouth again, he picked you up by your thighs and laid you onto his bed, climbing over on top of you as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, eyes raking through your body, desperately wanting to reveal what was underneath your conservative clothing and wanting to revel himself in pleasing you. “I love you too.” Your hands reached up to cup his cheeks this time, smiling. “Allow me to take this slow, all night. Till you remember me fully.”

XAVIER

“You take the two on your right and I will take on the big one.” Summoning your guns out of thin air, you gripped it familiarly within your palms, the metal grips on your guns cold to your touch. You looked at the wanderer in front of you. The size of it outweighed the wanderers that Xavier was tasked to deal with. The wanderer is shaped like a dragon, floating above the ground, with metallic scales all over its body that forms a shield as part of its defence mechanism. Talons sharp and hard as a diamond came slashing at the speed that could only be counted in milliseconds and you dodged it at the perfect timing, a few strands of your hair suffered the damage of its talons. “Tsk, you are certainly feisty.”

“Are you hurt?” Xavier is already dashing over to you, him dealing with the two wanderers barely took 5 seconds. It was a simple slash and dash for him. You regained your stability, standing up straight and getting into a combative stance, the blond man joining you by your side, sword raised and aimed at the foul wanderer. “Let’s take it down together.”

The both of you moved in sync like a dance is taking place in the middle of battlefield. The wanderer utilised its talons and tail to its best attempt to attack the both of you but the bigger they are, they tend to be slower in motion. That added an advantage to both Xavier and you. The man hollered at you as he jumped up, distracting the dragon and you denoted his instructions, charging in at full speed. The talons of the dragon then came towards you. Yet, everything seems to happen in slow-motion as you kicked yourself off of the ground and did a somersault, counteracting against the movement of the talons and safely avoiding it. Xavier appeared beneath you, his teleportation abilities an extremely useful tactic for displacement.

Dropping on one knee, he reached his hand out and you used the platform on his palm to provide a leverage for you to gain momentum for height, springing yourself up into the air, rotating in circles before angling yourself face-first towards the dragon like creature. The dragon roared as it spotted you, talons now flying upwards to stop your strike. You waved your hand and the guns switched to a blade similar to Xavier’s but with a silver hilt and a red tip. Fast as a bullet, you avoided the attack of the dragon yet again and this time jammed the blade right onto the top of its head. The dragon screeched before fading into dust particles and the Protocore that it carried fell to the floor with a clink. “How was that move just now?” You smirked, awaiting a compliment as you landed onto the ground steadily.

“It can use some work.” Xavier spoke nonchalantly, bending down to pick up the Protocore before crushing it in his hands, not wanting anyone else to get their hands on it, especially those who are not associated with your organisation. You placed a hand onto your chest and gasped dramatically, feigning being insulted. “You deserve that for letting me deal with the weaker ones and with you dealing with the dragon all by yourself. You could easily get hurt.” His display of puppy eyes might fool everyone else other than you. You can see the smirk right through him.

“Well you’re always the show off, it is time for me to grab that spotlight by now.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest in disappointment and he laughed, walking over to you and pulling your arms away from your torso, his smile genuine this time.

“I can never win an argument against you, so I give up okay?” He raised his hand up and brushed what seemed to be left of the dragon ashes off of your head. The sudden interaction of his got you speechless. “Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue?” He teased and you sent a light punch towards his way, aiming right at his torso. “Ouch.”

At this point, both of you could not hide your feelings for one another. It was so obvious to the point Tara would always mock that the both of you ‘are a force so great that gravity could not even pull you both apart’. Tara’s point was widely agreed by everyone else within the same department and even reaching towards the data mining department and the HR department. Well, looking onto the bright side, at least you guys have more support than rejection. Captain Jenna however, presented her disapproval towards their relationship as ‘business and personal matters are not a good concoction’ as quoted by the superior of theirs. Still, majority decision matters and Xavier have strong beliefs that the both of you would be able to still keep things professional while pursuing a relationship.

“Let’s grab some ramen, I am hungry.” The usual routine ensues. It is not a routine if there are no food gatherings after a mission, or specifically, one that involves you. “This time, it will be on me.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

Xavier’s superbike engine increased in volume as the acceleration increases. Wind hitting the both of your faces like some form of karmic payback for going so fast on the streets. Clouds were being shoved in the skies, eating up the sun light that once provided warmth and exchanging it for clouds of storms. The rain then poured rampantly, wetting everything in its path and coating the tar roads in a sheen of wax-like surface. Xavier twisted the handle further and that pushed the bike faster, you holding on tighter to his waist as he registered himself to be in a race with the rainstorm. Something about Xavier riding his bike like a wild man does something to me :,)

They are almost at their destination, the marker point for the restaurant could be seen on Xavier’s phone screen that had the GPS system running. “We are almost there.” He called out from his helmet, the indicator of his speedometer showing that he is nearly achieving the top speed on his superbike. The good thing about modern technology nowadays is that there are no struggles to speak in a normal tone when there is a built in microphone within the helmet. Back in the days, talking on a motorbike in motion would involve a lot of yelling as the deaden wind noises would act like giant ear plugs in one’s ears, making it difficult to communicate.

Turning a corner, his tyre screeched in rejection, a normal phenomenon for him using wet tyres that provides a better grip on slippery roads during such rainy seasons. What was unexpected however, was the lorry that appeared right in front of them, blaring its horns as the driver was seen stepping onto the brakes, inertia taking over when his body was jerked back, praying for his brakes to take control of the vehicle. “Xavier!” You screamed out as Xavier turned the bike’s head over to the other side to prevent colliding into the lorry but it was too late. A loud bang came through and you just remembered falling harshly onto the ground, landing on back first and darkness took you right away.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Beep. Beep. Beep. Machines were heard, your body struggled to move as if chained down by restraints. Your head felt like it just went through a lobotomy, aching in deep throbbing pain. You slowly opened your eyelids, welcoming the sun light that had invited itself into your room. Your surroundings are clean, smelling like iodine and sterile alcohol. You looked down and realised you are in a loose blue hospital gown. You are in a hospital. For what reason though?

Your mind emitted a high pitched ringing as you tried to recall your last moments that had landed you into the hospital. All you managed to recall was you coming in contact with a wanderer alone, and after you had defeated it, everything else is a mystery. Hearing the door sliding open, you looked over, spotting a man walking in through the entrance. He is wearing a white oversized hoodie, layered over a baby blue T-shirt and matched with a pair of black jeans. This man looked like a model, with blond hair that could easily blend in with the sunlight and with eyes that is twinning with his T-shirt. “How are you doing?” His voice was not as deep as what you had predicted, but it does give it a distinct personality of its own.

“I’m fine, I guess.” You tried to sit up but the pain that jabbed your chest made you winced. The man took a seat next to you and with the press of a button, your bed slowly moved upwards. “Thanks.”

He watched you, eyes holding a glimmer of hope that you could not pinpoint on what he was hoping for. His hand reached out towards your face and you instinctively moved back, eyes widened in shock. He looked at you, face turning pale as he realised the reality of the situation. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.” Your quick response made him blinked twice, not knowing what to say at all. “Are you someone I know?” He could have heard his own heart cracked at that question of yours.

The nurses who were in charge of you had already acknowledged Xavier to be your sole caretaker. The lack of parents and caretakers within your family history indicated that you had nobody to rely on, other than this blond bloke that had constantly been bugging the nurses about your condition. They had informed him about the side effects of a concussion, including a period of amnesia. Xavier had seen this coming but it still hurts, given that he is the one to be held accountable for this outcome.

After that day at the hospital, Xavier no longer rode his bike, the damage inflicted upon the metal piece of garbage was so great that it now sat in the garage of his condo. Other than that, he was also traumatised by his accident that nearly costed the both of your lives. His self-recrimination got to him so much that it had affected his working attitude and causing him to be more closed off than ever.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Having the day all to yourself, you decided to explore the city on your own and hopefully you get to go to an arcade and catch one of those plushies that you have been eyeing for the past few days. The lack of Xavier in your life did not affect you as much. Since you had been discharged he would drop by your house every once in a while and you came to learn that he stays within the same building as you. But what you found interesting was the fact he would always buy you food that you crave for, and seemingly had always presented a liking for. It got you wondering if the both of you actually had a history together but since he did not say anything, you did not find the need to pry either.

The store stood proudly in between a coffee shop and a convenience store, its neon lights and floating holograms of this season's featured plushies made it a fanfare, inviting everyone that catches sight upon the store and kidnapping all of the families who are spending time for an outing. Couples are seemingly reeled in as well, leaving the singletons sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the cramped space. Just like y/n, sliding smoothly in between couples and families to arrive at the back of the store, where the plushies hailing from an older season would be secreted. Crowds would not clump at the back here given that the need to keep up with the latest plushies is a cool trend nowadays. But y/n’s decision to settle for an ‘out-of-the-season’ plushie characterises her to be a sentimental and loyal individual.

You exchanged for a couple of tokens, enough to fill a small bowl and you walked over to the machine of your choice, eyeing the bunny plushie in the middle of the pool of plushies. “Here I come.” You inserted a token into the coin slot and the machine jerked awake, lights flashed in front of you and a fast-paced nursery rhymed filled the silence. You looked into the mirror stationed at the back of the cubicle of the claw machine and a bright light pierced through it, swallowing you entirely. Then you were stood right next to the same machine, but you were focused on the couple manoeuvring the machine you had paid for. You were about to stop them till you realised that it was you and Xavier, standing next to one another, chatting and laughing as you guys watched the claw machine worked its magic.

You could not bring yourself to snap out of your own reverie, not when the presented scenario is full of warmth and …love. Your guts has been right all this while, the fuzzy confusion you get whenever he is near you, the sense of heightened self-awareness when he leans in to study your expressions, a slither of unknown jealousy coursing through you when you realised the nurses were asking for his contact information. It finally placed your brain back into your head. When you are brought back to reality, you blinked away your tears that stung at the back of your pupil and you recollected yourself, walking away from the machine and towards the exit. You are going to look for Xavier.

You knocked onto his door multiple times, series of knocks, pause, series of knocks, pause. Took him a good seven minutes to open the door. His hair is messy, eyes half lidded and yawns so dragged out that he could easily break the world record for being the best yawner. “Is everything alright?” The man in the pyjamas asked, looking concerned. But you dashed through his door and attached yourself into his embrace, the young man awoken in an instant. His arms now beside his torso, halfway upwards into the air when he tried to process what is happening at the start of his day.

“It’s not your fault Xavier.” You mumbled through his shirt, still loud enough to reach his ears. “I don’t want you to blame yourself.” You remembered the day you were deep in your dreamland till you were woken up by muffled sobs, your hands feeling wet to the touch. When you opened your eyes, you saw Xavier’s face was plopped in your hands and his body was jerking to every heave and pants he took. He was crying within your palms, blaming himself for the amount of pain he had inflicted upon you while he gets to walk off unharmed. Just the thought of seeing him cry again pains you.

He gets to reap faster than what he had initially sowed, with a mere expectation that you might get your memories back after a couple of months, but to get your memory back within two months time, he would have kissed heavens if he was allowed to. You felt his weight pressed into you and you stumbled backwards, back hitting against the closed door as a response. His arm now around your waist, steadying you before he pulled you closer, sandwiching you between the door and also his torso. “I wanted to do this for a long time.” His breath fanned your bangs, heating your cheeks up. “Would you mind if I do things to you that nobody else gets to?”

You gained just a tad bit of courage to look up at him and you gulped, seeing his orbs darkened, gleaming lustful desires behind it. He is not the only one with such dirty thoughts in his mind, for you bear the same thoughts as him. You want him just as much as he wants you, but there was just a gap between the both of you the whole time, the hesitant, the doubt and the fear of a mistake that was holding the both of you back. But as of now, perhaps not anymore.

Responding to your eager lust, you pressed your lips against his and he reciprocated it. Your lips parted and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in, caressing the insides of your mouth. His hand traced to your bum and he smoothed his palms over it, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "Did I ever told you how sorry I was about your accident?" He whispered against your plump lips, a passionate emblem brewed behind his cerulean orbs. Gasping, he lifted you up by swiftly hooking his arms under your thighs and pinning you harder against the door. "Tonight, let me apologise sincerely, and allow me to make it up to you." The night then gets darker but younger.

RAFAYEL

Seated on a wooden chair tucked behind a huge desk, the young artist crossed his legs under the table, eyeing the cue cards that he was given so he could get an idea on what answers he could opt for. But as what Thomas has predicted, Rafayel's fish brain would not even appreciate the aid of a script. Rafayel positioned the cue card at the very edge of the table and awaited for the curtains to be withdrawn.

Jazzy tunes started playing and the host of the interview roared out Rafayel's name belatedly. Heavy maroon drapes slowly drew back, revealing a standing ovation from the crowd and a grumpy Rafayel behind the desk. "Welcome Rafayel!" The young woman introduced herself to be Miss Kony. Everyone, Miss Kony even, are in awe with his effiminate features. Men hate his feminine looking features but women dig it. Rafayel on the other hand, knows that he owns the stage the moment he was revealed.

Almost at the end of the interview, MIss Kony was asking some handpicked fan-favourite questions towards Rafayel. "So what if, just what if you found out that someone you love someday had lost their memory about you?" The woman asked, hands smoothed over her yellow chiffon blouse and placing the cue card onto her lap, leaning in to catch his answer.

The young artist shrugged. "I don't know really. I think I would just get disappointed and leave." He was known for his impatience to everything except for his own artwork. "As I do have time for other things other than tending towards someone who barely remembers me. I might just take the time to continue doing what I do."

His answer received praises and whistles, earning admiration from his fanbase for someone being true to himself and also having to think of the 'bigger picture'. The interview that had took place ended on a particularly neutral note but the end of the night seemingly turned sour. Not only was he tailed by paparazzis all the way to his car and that he was late for a movie. The one movie that you would never shut up about, featuring some sappy drama with a very predictable ending. Rafayel wanted to express his distaste towards your movie choices but seeing you getting so excited over something so minute, his heart could not help but to be wrapped around your fingers. Sliding himself into the bucket seat of his hyper car, the artist held up a hand, signifying a blatant goodbye and to cease further questions. Starting the ignition, the car roared to life and he stepped onto the gas pedal and steered out of the parking lot.

You stood at the front of the cinema, eyes darting everywhere to search for a sign of a 6’ tall man with purple hair, good sense of fashion and dashingly good looks, but he was nowhere to be seen. You picked up your phone, squinting your eyes when you checked the time. He is late. Which is unusual of him. Before you could even control yourself, your mind had already started stirring up different scenarios of what could have happened to Rafayel and you got increasingly worried over him. Your fingers hovered over the green dial button, Rafayel’s name on your screen before you were interrupted by the screams of the general public.

Rafayel's phone vibrated for a few times before he picked it up, hearing your voice on the other end through the speakers of his car. "Rafayel, I think there is a bombing happening near—” A huge whirring could be heard and a high pitched ringing sent the call directly to an end note. The line emitting a no-signal dial tone caused Rafayel's heart to plunge. He looked at the phone, your name and profile picture the only thing that filled the screen before it turned off and the young man stepped pedal to the metal, the car’s turbine sound cutting through the quiet night.

His car screeched to a halt when he was greeted with barricades in the middle of the road, fire ablaze on multiple buildings and rubbles filled the once bustling streets. Security and medical forces are already at the scene, scavenging for survivors and treating victims of the unfortunate circumstance. “Tara!” He called out when he spotted a familiar outline of a female similar to your height but with a bob. The girl turned at the call of her name and her eyes widened, probably not expecting your boyfriend to be at the scene. “What happened here? Did you saw y/n?”

Tara looked like she had gagged onto the smoke but minus the coughing and actual physical struggle. Words are not pouring out of her mouth despite she is a proud extrovert. “There was a bombing.” She managed to mutter after a while of silence and intense staring. “We have yet to find her. We don’t know where she is.” She hesitantly looked down to check her hunter’s watch to avoid his gaze. She could tell that he is not taking the answer well.

“She was last seen at the cinema. Have you searched there yet?” He asked and watching Tara being hesitant again, he did not bother asking and he walked right in, getting a clearance from the authorities issued by Tara. He walked past rubbles, hearing for anything that could get him to locate you easier. Then, he stopped at the sight of a hand peeking out from under one of the cement rubble. The promise ring of his laid dormant on your ring finger, the ashen skin nearly similar to the rubble you are laid underneath.

“Y/N!” He shouted, sinking to his knees and started to dig through the rubble, his sudden movement caught the eyes of a few of the fire marshalls stationed at the site. They rushed over with their gear. “Please help, my lover is underneath the rubble!” He called out, still digging through the rubble.

“Sir, we are gonna need you to step back.” One of the man pushed him back, the young man indicated signs of reluctance but he knew that he does not have any tools that could lift up the huge piece of rubble anyways. “Once we get her out, you can be on the ambulance with her.” Another marshall placed a hand on his back, his voice and gaze reassuring enough to get Rafayel to back off to let them do their work. He stood aside, peering over their shoulders every once in a while, wanting to catch a glimpse of what they could manage to find. It didn’t take them long to lift your body out of the piles of rocks. Your body was limp, eyes closed and scarlet red painted a few streaks of colours on your beautiful yet pale face. “Y/n!” He called out to you but there were no responses, his legs matched the pace of the marshalls lifting your injured body towards the ambulance.

He got in right after the stretcher and sat down next to you, grabbing hold of your hand in his. He kept mumbling your name, peppering kisses over the back of your hand as if he was praying to a god. Ironic. The ambulance’s sirens wailed as the paramedics strapped themselves into the driver seats. “Hang on tight.” The driver’s voice could be heard through the plastic pane separating the patient’s mobile room. With the rev of an engine, the force of inertia caused Rafayel to jerk backwards as the ambulance sped through the traffic.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Batting your eyelashes a couple of times, you invited the sunlight into your vision after who-knows-for-how-long it has been. Your body felt sore as if you had been lifting weights too heavy for you, your head felt groggy like your nap had been too good, your hearing sense prickled whenever someone made too loud of a noise. By that, you meant the man in front of you who would not stop calling out your name when he opened the door to see your opened eyes. This man, his lilac-pinkish hued orbs widened with what you may describe as excitement. His smile is nothing less than dashing, he seemed like he is made for the television shows. Everything on him, from his head to his toe, a simple black formal button up, a pair of black slacks, and a pair of normal sneakers looked expensive on him. Maybe he does adorn those branded items, but you could not possibly tell at this moment.

“Do you remember me, my love?” His smile had reduced a little bit, perhaps due to your unresponsiveness when you initially woke up from your days of deep slumber. “Y/n?”

“I don’t know you.” You frowned, gaze avoiding his. You could hear slight shuffling, squeaks caused by the friction between the waxed tiled floor and the soles of his sneakers. “Do I happen to know you beforehand?” You tilted your head up and you watched the young man took a seat next to you, a face of disbelief tattooed onto his features. “Would you like to—”

“I’m Rafayel.” The man in front of you beamed, his sappy look somewhat disappeared into thin air. Although he knew that it would hurt for you to not remember him, but he felt like slapping himself in the face now. Saying something along the lines of not giving two shits to someone he loves if they were to forget him is just plain ignorant when he sits in front of you now, watching the love of his life not remembering him and yet he could not go forth with what was mentioned at the interview a couple of days back.

You still had one of your eyebrows quirked up, looking at him as if he is an alien. Still does not deny the fact that he is handsome according to your standards. "Do you at least remember your name and your job?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest. His shirt was tight enough for you to get a good peek at his taut chest.

"My name is y/n and I am a deepspace hunter. Yeah I guess I remember that bit." Judging at the way Rafayel barely spared a blink your way, you bit your lip and started to stir your memory. A little bit goes a long way when you caught hold of your other responsibility. "I am a bodyguard for someone I think."

Rafayel's lips curled into a smirk, nodding. He relaxed his arms and leaned back against the chair. "Good, we can work with this."

𓆩⟡𓆪

Slamming the oak doors, you gasped in shock when you spotted Rafayel laying motionless on the floor. "Rafayel!" You shouted, grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him like a cocktail shaker. "Rafayel, are you okay?"

The man's eyes suddenly widened and you dropped him, his head colliding with the hard floor with a thud. "OUCH!" He wailed in pain, rubbing the back of his head immediately. "Why would you do that?"

"You left me 13 calls when I was out at the field, I thought it was an emergency!" You fished your phone out of your pockets, revealing his name highlighted in red with a big number 13 next to his name. "Then I rushed here to see you lying on the floor like a dead fish!"

"It is an emergency." His pout emerged. "I am having a painter's block, I needed your input on my painting." He slowly sat up, dusting imaginary dust off of his shoulders.

Sighing, you stood up from your kneeling position. "Can't that wait till after I am done with work? I took half day off just for your so-called emergency." The annoyance in your tone was not as aggravating as what he had to endure before you had lost your memory. You held your hand out to him still, a frown fell upon your face.

He took your hand and stood up, his height easily towered over you. "I will make it up to you by bringing you out for dinner at any restaurant you want okay?" He placed both of his hands on your shoulders and he slowly guided you towards the corner that he always brainstorms for his pieces. His suggestion made you huffed in objection, but then, you are not entirely rejecting his idea.

Standing in front of the artwork, you analysed it, strokes in wavelike pattern covered most of the canvas, with a sketch of what seem to look like a jetty etched out on the bottom of the canvas. The artwork presents a setting held during twilight, the sunset and night sky bleeding into his art. A sudden high pitched ringing made you winced and you fell to the floor, clutching your head in agony. "Y/N!" You could hear him calling out to you but his voice slowly got muffled, like he was drowning in the waters drawn on his painting.

𓆩⟡𓆪

You woke up to the day you first met Rafayel, at the fair where he did this little trick to catch a small fish for you from the small pool. Your flashbacks then went on, projecting all of the moments you had spent with Rafayel and coming to the day he asked you to be his girlfriend while presenting the promise ring to you and to the moment the bombing happened before you could watch the movie at the cinema.

This time, you actually sat up, gasping for air as you felt cold sweat trickling down your forehead. Your memories of Rafayel had been revived and you could not hold back the tears that came. "Y/n, are you---" Rafayel's voice caught your gaze and you pushed yourself off of the bed and sprinted towards him, ambushing him with a hug so tight the artist nearly fell backwards. "Hey, hey what's wrong?"

"Raf...Rafe..." You sobbed, head buried into his cleavage. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The artist ran his hands through your hair, feeling the smooth and soft strands to his touch. "I'm sorry I don't remember you."

Rafayel at this moment, with you in his arms, felt nothing but relief crashing over him. One might think that he would be excited, and to pull her into a rib crushing hug to express his excitement. But, he did the exact opposite. His breath was calm, hands still working their way through your hair before he caught your jaw and angled your face upwards. Your eyes looked right into his coloured irises, adoration radiating through his gaze. "I missed you, do you know that?"

Your hands snaked up his forearms and you cupped your hands over his. "I am sorry for making you so worried, Rafayel." His thumbs brushed over your cheeks in sync, wiping off the tears that are coming to a near stop. He did not allow you anymore space to apologise by leaning down and kissing you. He eventually pried your lips opened by darting his tongue out to caress your soft lips for the opening.

His hands heaved you up by your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, the fervent kiss providing a headstart for the long night ahead. Your back hit against the plush beddings and he ran his fingers teasingly up the inside of your thighs, making you hiss in pleasure. He pulled back, pupils dilated and breath ragged, rubicund dusted over his cheeks and ears. "You have to pay for making me so worried over you, yeah?" He danced his fingertips to the fly of your pants, but stopped right at the zipper. "If you do not want me to, tell me to stop."

Now it is your turn to run your finger teasingly down his neck, your nail drag leaving a hot trail on his skin. "I would actually ask you to stop if I do not remember you." You bit down onto your lip, eyeing him as he slowly started to unzip your pants with his skilled digits.

"If it's so, I will take my time all night to prove to you how much I love you until I am satisfied." He smirked and dived his head down to catch your lips once again, allowing his fingers to travel south, already planning to make you cry only his name for the rest of the night.

[dahliakbs]

(Wanted to get this out of my head, don't take this to seriously plz)

Masterlist

Platonic Yandere! Batfam x Rescued! Reader : Isolation

How many times had they told you, how many times had you heard the same phrase over and over again. Everytime you asked it was always the same reply and at this point it was starting to get to you.

Your life had been changed by these very same people but only one thing stayed the same.

The isolation

A couple months ago you'd cry and beg for a life like this but now that you were experiencing it, it was frankly speaking a bit tiresome.

Back then you'd been trapped in a lab, being experimented on till you collapsed from the pain and exhaustion but now it was different.

Ever since they'd saved you from that madness you never had to go through anything like that ever again. This time it was different...

You were allowed to eat when you wanted to, bathe when you wanted, you were allowed movies and any other kind of entertainment from your newfound family.

But there was always one thing they'd never allow you to do.

Go outside, Go into society.

They'd always came up with excuses and reasons as to why you weren't supposed to go anywhere near the outside world but you still never truly understood why you weren't allowed out there.

Everytime you bright up the idea they'd either blatantly ignore it or conversation there. Like the other day when you'd overheard the others talking about some sort of school that your new younger brother attended everyday.

But when you finally asked them about it they'd all went dead silent and instead you were rushed out of the room quicky and sent to your bedroom. Where you spent the rest of the evening with your lovely brother Dick.

He'd gotten you to forget all about what you'd said earlier and instead got you wondering about what movie you were going to watch later.

It was honestly so scary how they'd manage to get you to change your mind and forget about something in a matter of seconds. But that was until he left the room.

The thought came back to you while you were picking out the movie and it made you pause and think about the the many thoughts they'd somehow made you forgotten.

The marks on your body were still extremely visible and even looking at yourself in the mirror was a hard task to accomplish but this time you let the memories flow back in.

The suck experiments, the pills they'd made you take almost every single day, the way they stripped you of your humanity and turned you into a mindless test subject for whatever experiment they wished to carry out.

Then your thoughts drifted back to the night you'd been captured, the night you'd been freed and showed a new life. The night your saviors promised you a new life where you never needed to wort about any harm coming to you graciously clinged onto them and the little hope they gave you.

But something felt wrong.

You never felt truly free.

Instead you felt as if you were still caged and under their control.

Even if your life had been changed for the better they were still withholding s lot of things from you. So you made up your mind.

You'd start uncovering any and every secret they kept from you, whether it was for you own good or they just chose not to tell you.

And you started with the lonely grandfather clock stood in the middle of the hallway.

Anytime you questioned it they'd always change the subject and immediately try to steer you away from it. The one time you'd been close to figuring out what they kept in there you'd been stopped by you little brother Damian.

He'd always kept an irritated expression in his face when speaking to you but his actions always showed you that he was only putting it on for show.

So when he caught you trying to decipher the clock he'd quickly grabbed your arm with unbelievable strength and quickly pulled you away from the wall.

"Why do you want to know what goes on down there so badly" he immediately asked but then gave you no chance to answer the question.

"If you want to know so badly it's just the batcave, nothing special since you already know we're vigilantes"

Of course you'd already known they're secret since they were the ones who saved you but if they knew that then why were you still not allowed down there.

And that was the question you were going to answer tonight. So you waited till you knew atleast everyone was either out or in bed and snuck down the hallways until you came across the lonely grandfather clock.

Finally seeing the clock up close nearly made you second guess yourself. Why would you second guess your saviors when they were the ones who got you out of that mess.

It just felt so wrong but you always had a feeling that there was something they'd been keeping secret.

You could see it in the way they acted around you, always treating you as if you were a delicate toy that they just absolutely needed to keep away from the outside world so at least now you'd be one step closer to finding out why.

So you quickly set the clock to 10:48 and went inside before anyone could we you. Then you approached the large computer set in the middle of the cave ready to turn it on but it was already on.

Lighting up the entire cave with video feed from the hidden surveillance camera's around the manor, but instead of showing you the many rooms around the manor it showed you something rather bone chilling.

It showed you video feed of your bedroom.

Video feed of the room you thought was your private safe haven. A place to relax when the manor was just to much for you but instead it was being broadcasted onto the large computer kept only in the dark cave.

You honestly didn't know what to think.

It wasn't the first time in your life that you'd been watched as if you were nothing but entertainment but this time it was being done by the people you trusted.

If it weren't for the voice you heard coming from next to you you were pretty sure you would have fainted on the spot.

"Your not supposed to be down here (reader)" Damian stated, clearly ignoring the shock on your face.

"What is this" you immediately asked.

"I told the others that something like this would've happened but no one listens to me in this household" he started taking quick steps towards you but your body couldn't bring itself to react.

You'd already felt so relaxed and safe around these people that your body didn't even think of them as a threat.

But your mind was racing with thoughts like why would they do this or what would possess them to do something like this.

"Well talk about this tomorrow morning" he takes your hand and leads you back up those grand stairs you'd came down just a moment ago.

In that moment you allowed him to escort you back to your bedroom, you allowed him to grab you s glass of water and you drank it with no hesitation.

Welcoming the tired and dizzy feeling that came after drinking the small glass of water. Allowing yourself to quickly pass out under the watch of your supposed savior turned new captor.

[honeygrahambitch]

Jack was very close to figuring out that Hannibal was the Ripper. Trying to distract his train of thoughts, Will impulsively announced "Me and Hannibal got married last Saturday."

The announcement made all the forensics in the lab turn to him, any idea about the case completely forgotten.

Will rushed to Baltimore to inform Hannibal about the mess he had caused but his response was a very calm "This would explain the call I just received from Jack Crawford."

"Did you tell him it was not true?"

"Why would I? I received lovely texts from people. The word is spreading. I was curious about where this would lead."

"So you are completely unbothered?"

"I am, in fact, entertained."

"I want a divorce."

"Are you unhappy?"

"I don't want to marry you."

"It wasn't me who told everyone we are married."

"Jack was in the middle of figuring out you are the Ripper. I just wanted to distract his attention."

"Lovely how this was the first thing that came up in your head."

Will ignored his remark.

"What do we do now?"

"I don't mind being married to you. Even if it's not real. You fixed my kitchen sink last week. I bring you lunch at work. Things can work out between us."

"What, you want a platonic marriage? For convenience?"

"I haven't pronounced the word "platonic". And convenience has too many facets to put it so ambiguously. What is convenient to me is not convenient to you."

"I will rephrase it. You want a gay non-platonic marriage that is convenient to you and at the same time dark and twisted."

"Perfect. But I don't want it, I already have it. And it wasn't even the result of my actions." Hannibal said satisfied. "Although, I would have loved to be the one to propose to you."

"Really?"

"Yes, but I don't mind the fact that it came from you."

"I didn't even do that. I skipped all the stages."

"It's not too late."

"Then how should I say it..." Will asked himself, now seriously considering it. "Would you like to marry me?"

"I thought you said you don't want to be married to me?" Hannibal teased even if he was in fact euphoric.

"I won't ask for a second time."

"Yes, my darling, I would love that."

[tinydefector]

Okay. You've got me invested on the newest installation of Human Effects.

Now I can't stop imagine both Humans and Mechs alike having some sort of Google Form where they click on the Human/Mech they want to fuck and see which is the most desired amongst their respective species.

Now that I think about it, I think there'll be a lot of fighting. And chaos.

But then again, we live for the drama.

Human Effects Lost Records

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: talk of sex, human/alien, pornhunting

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Masterlist

Lab logs

Did I take this as an opportunity to merge Human effects and laboratory logs together into a series yes I did. I'll be working on the human Effects timeline where human Effects 2 is spin-off pieces from the mainline.

_____________________

The Holo, cyber and inter webs had a strange beauty to them. It has given many the ability to communicate with different planets, species, to share culture, laughter, debates, videos And all sorts thanks to the many different satellites floating out in space. Everyone also enjoyed it for the use of downtime the most. Some had taken to enjoying Earth's entertainment platforms such as YouTube, Netflix and many other sights, others fell into more depraved sights such as Reddit, Twitter,Tumblr, Pornhub, interlink, Processed and other sights. 

Commlink: post Humans Aboard BLO freight.

BigBotNoStop: Alright mechs, I come bearing an inquiry. As you may have heard from some of my last posts, the newest additions to our crew are a thriving colony of soft, squishy humans. Word in the taproom is some have taken quite an interest in... extending cultural exchanges, if you catch my drift. Not really my field of experience and was hoping some of Xeno's here might have some input. 

Posted to Sublink: Human and cybertronian relationships?

But I'm curious, are interspecies acts even possible without harm? Their frames seem so fragile. One wrong motion and SPLAT! No more humans. quite a few members of our crew have shown interest in flirting... Thoughts? Suggestions for how to proceed with care- help a mech out!

Blazemech: Yo! You got fleshies on your ship! Fragging jealousy!. Your ship is looking for any dock workers?

TailOrTrails: Oh Primus, are we really having this discussion?? Look, I get the appeal of those soft little flesh bags. Really, I do - different wiring can be so freakin' hot. But there's no way a romp with one of those puny things ends well for them! Even accidentally bumping into a table puts them in the medbay. Think of the mess, One wrong thrust and you've got squish all over your plating.

ISOCLEAN: Just download some holofacing and use your imagination if you're that jonesing for an organic interface. Trust me, it's not worth the risk - or hassle of cleaning up after. sure you can find something from the Human sites on Mechanophilia, slutty Show and shine or Car Washes. Stay shiny and keep those servos to yourself, mechs! Some curiosities are better left to fantasies.

Flyboi69: Don't leave a mech hanging, I want deets!, has anybot here actually gotten friendly with a fleshie before? I'm talking about hands-on experience. We've all gotten curious watching, but has the real thing lived up to the fantasy? 

Pimptheride: Any tips for coaxing one into the berth, or does their tiny size mean you've got to take it slow and gentle? And most importantly... any videos out there of the deed? A mech's gotta do some, ah, research before taking the plunge. Hook a brother up if you've found any good amateur organic-on-mech action out there in the 'net. Gotta see it to believe it. 

ScienceSorcerer: For reasons. Does anyone know if humans have both Spikes and Valves? Or if they have any human anatomy holos or books and such from Earth they are willing to sell for some decent Shanix.  

T-Wrexz: Primus, you mechs are hungrier than fragging scraplets. As far as I know, relations between our kinds are still uncharted territory. Could be amazing, could end badly - who's to say until we try? Personally I'm keeping an optic out, just curious to see what new experiences those squishy aliens can offer us tough metal mechs. 

Bar-rizzla: Oho, look who's swapping tall tales. I've been keeping a close optic on our ships squishy company since they came aboard. And between you and me... I may have an in with their ambassador that could lead to some juicy first-hand intel. Just trying to track down the bot we think they are berthing with. Crews got bets out. Turns out they get just as curious about us big metal hunks as we are them!. The other night, their chat got particularly saucy after a few drinks. Lots of gossip and speculation about which lucky bot one of them might take for a private ride. 

WPHAS-Violation: I may have a certain special "human entertainment" vid I could share. Let's just say the organic in question got quite... friendly with an eager mini-con. You know where to find me if you're brave enough to watch! 

Tapemix54: Oho, mechs - think you've got it bad now? You should've seen some of the real deviants back before the war. When I was still stationed on Petrex, I knew this one smuggler - went by the name Rattler. Sneaky little scraplet, but Primus if he didn't have the wildest stories. Rattler used to run goods across time and space, dodging security at every turn. He'd pop up out of nowhere selling the rarest exotic "pets" to rich senators and other high caste mechs looking for a thrill. I'm talking aliens so bizarre even our data banks had never heard of their kind. But the highest bidder always walked away with a new "plaything" to break in, if you catch my drift. Word was Rattler even had a collection of sentient organics that he'd let special clients "test drive" between runs. Humans were apparently a favourite - their smaller frames could take all sorts of creative handling. Rattler had vids, too, of course, to entice buyers. I saw one once, let's just say "versatile" doesn't begin to cover it. Naturally the vids have all been scrubbed by now. But I bet if you knew where to dig in the deep web or some easily swayable Archivist, you might find traces of Rattler's stash still floating around out there.

 T-Wrexz: Whoa, whoa, slow your intake there tapemix! As much as I love a good far-fetched tale, I gotta call scrap on this one. Humans weren't even around back then, much less roaming the streets of Rodion as black market pets, I'm all for imagining exotic interface scenarios, but let's keep the stories at least somewhat rooted in known history, yeah?. Last I checked it was probably fabricated by Caminus cartels to make their actual goods seem tame. 

A few other mechs agree with T-Wrexz before a few kliks later a new post is put up. 

Post: 

"Old Iacon records saved of the Senator and his human Conjunx”

It's a file collection of holotapes and pictures: "Enjoy these are pre war photos of Senator Shockwave and his Human holding their sparkling" 

There are many holos and videos of the long gone senator smiling with his human perched on his shoulder, in the crystal garden with a young sparkling held in the human's arms. Videos of the sparkling playing with the two but the last The last holo looks like a family portrait with Shockwave’s frame in a lime green blue white paint with gold accessories,  his human lover is dressed in elegant robes and the small blue praxian sparkling held in their arms. Each holo is dated with the Iacon records seal of authentication. 

FlyBoi69: NO FREAKIN' WAY. Is this real?! *downloads files faster than Blurr* FRAG ME SIDEWAYS, I think I just popped a gasket! How in the PIT did you manage to dig up the holos of senator Shockwave, most of his speeches, debates and lectures were wiped. Where did you find this! 

Jackin0: of all mechs, with an actual human back in the Golden Age?!. I'm calling scrap on this being real. It's gotta be a flawless deepfake. By PRIMUS if true - to think ol' Shockers was living it up with a squishy. Maybe there's more to those Senatorial types than meets the optic...

T-Wrexz: Okay, I'll bite... but someone better explain to me RIGHT NOW how any of this computes! Last I checked, time travel and inter-species relationships were the stuff of erotic imagination, not legitimate pre-war archives. Tapemix, you better start talking. Where in the PIT did you source these files? How do we know they're authentic and not just an incredibly convincing parlour trick? Because if I'm gonna let these images ruin me, I wanna be ruined by the real deal! Spill it, mech. 

Iacon-Records: Tapemix54 could i please request where you discovered these as i work with Iacon records and this here is history that needs to be preserved. I'm willing to talk with you through a contractor if you would be willing for us to add these back into the new hall of records. Cybertron has lost so much and to find something like this I ask that we find a way to preserve it.  

BigBotNoStop: Pit take me now... I think I may have to reassess everything I thought I knew about interface and partnerships. That human is holding a sparkling curled around them - frag if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! If anything could make me believe in miracles, it's this! Tapemix, you glorious glitch - how can I ever repay such an enlightening gift?

Tapemix54: These were filed only cycles after Shockwaves Emputra; they were added to the Iacon records by some Archivist under the title. 'I will Remember you for who you were'. This was right when the senate fell apart on the brink of the war. From my knowledge of information on Rattler he apparently had an outlier who he got to take them to different times since he was a shuttle made it easier to transport. That's from the  records that still exist at least. I'll take you up on that offer Iacon-records. 

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[phoenixblaze1412]

Heyyy can i request dottore with a female reader who loves dottores scent? like she sniffs him whenever they hug and loves stealing his sweaty clothes. Btw how do you think dottores body odour smell like?

(tbh i feel like im some crazy freak for thinking abt dottores smell all the time :0)

You're not a crazy freak love, i like the ideas so keep them coming^^

If we're talking about body odor, Dottore would have this very entrancing scent. Like, musky and minty at the same time. Let's say it's like an invictus perfume kind of scent, that would gain the attention of anyone who either isn't afraid of him or doesn't know who he is.

He would always make sure he would at least smell decent whenever he's inside or outside of work. He didn't know it would attract attention from others, in a good way.

But it's hard to be able to smell his scent when he's always in his work clothes.

Whenever Dottore's in the lab, he would have a different scent. A mix of coffee, chemicals and antiseptic.

If you're not used to Dottore in his line of work, this could be a very frightening thing to inhale. It's like walking inside an eerie hospital and you're just about to face your death, the doctor himself.

But, being Dottore's lover, this scent brings you comfort.

Here's a little fun fact that only you know and Dottore doesn't. The only way you can differentiate your Dottore from his older segments is just based on his body odor. Just hug them, sneakily inhale their scent and boom, segment or Dottore.

Now, Dottore and his segments would always wonder why you would greet them by hugging them. They just don't know that you're identifying who is who by inhaling their body scent.

Now, clothes.

Dottore would always catch you sneaking into the laundry basket and sniffing his clothes. He has tried many times to stop you from doing so. Who knows what chemical spills or filthy blood could go right up your olfactory nerves. And no matter how many times he tries to stop you, you always manage to do the opposite and keep doing it.

That's why he decided to have a spare laundry basket in his laboratory, only for his stained clothes and lab gowns. He doesn't want you to inhale more chemicals that got stuck to his clothes.

He'll still put his used and sweaty clothes in the laundry basket in your shared quarters so you have something to entertain yourself with. He just doesn't want to see you suffocate and nauseate again from inhaling formaldehyde from one of his lab gowns from back then.

You were simply sitting against the couch in Dottore's office, reading one of the latest novel that Childe got you from Inazuma while you wait for your lovely scientist of a boyfriend to finish with his work in the lab connected to the office. Too invested in the book, you didn't notice the new presence standing behind you. You hummed in response as you watched a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders and pulling you close to a firm chest.

"Hello, darling."

You smiled, knowing it's Dottore. But is it him or his segment?

You rubbed your cheek against the arm, using that action as a diversion to inhale the scent from his clothes. Antiseptic. Not a trace of his own body odor or sweat. This is definitely a segment.

Meanwhile, the 'Dottore' behind you was simply grinning at your actions, finding it adorable yet oblivious to what you're really doing.

You know there's only one segment that would confidently be affectionate towards you whenever his creator isn't around.

"Hello to you too, Omega. Are you done with your work?"

Omega, slightly surprised at how you easily guessed it was him, affectionately rubbed his cheek against the top of your head and let out a small hum.

"Not at all. I still have to wait for a few minutes until the concoction I'm currently working on is complete. In the meantime, I simply wanted to check up on you and be blessed with your attention."

You shifted in your position so that you were able to lean your head back to look at the masked segment before placing a kiss upon his cheek. This caused Omega to sigh in content as he basked in your affections.

Minutes turned into an hour as you and Omega chatted about the projects he and the others are working on. He was about to tell you about the newest project about creating a god but was immediately stopped by someone clearing their throat. You turned your head to the sound to come eye to eye with Dottore himself, his red irises staring back against your own.

"Omega, I suggest you get back to work instead of lazing around and chatting with my partner. The concoction you left behind has already finished thirty minutes ago."

"Ah, well then, I'll take that as my cue to leave. She's all yours now, Lord Harbinger. I'll see you later, darling."

Just as Omega stated, he quickly got up and went to head back in the laboratory, leaving you and Dottore alone. Leaving the book by the coffee table, you immediately ran over to your partner and hugged him, burying your face into his chest and inhaling his comforting scent. Dottore sighed when you hugged him, trying to push you away from him but failed.

"Dearest, I'd be glad to hug you back but I'm sweaty and I do not wish to contaminate you with my own sweat. Let me take a bath first then I'll cuddle you."

"No need. I like how you smell, doesn't matter if you're all sweaty or bleeding."

"You're odd, you know that. But that's what made me attracted to you, I suppose. Your oddities are very endearing."

Dottore, finally giving in, wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close, placing a kiss to your forehead as well.

"Also, don't think I didn't catch you sniffing me everytime you're in my arms. Even if you're being sneaky about it and making excuses, it wouldn't get past my field of vision, darling."

Ah.

Seems like you've been caught in the act.

[ellieslaces]

𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: umbrella’s hunger games

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: leon kennedy x fem!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the morning of the annual Hunger Games has arrived. the start of possible weeks of horrors curated by the Umbrella Corporation. the mutts, the twenty three other children you must fight and kill to survive. only, there’s a bump in the road — your newfound obsession with District Twelve’s male Tribute

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: harsh language; heavy violence; gore; infanticide; class discrimination; usual hunger games/resident evil themes; heavy themes of gore; heavy themes of murder and infanticide

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: sauuuuur I got motivation. this is taking a year and I love it. please enjoy. it’s about to get so sad

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.62k

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 : bury a friend ; billie eilish

previous chapter ; next chapter

Sunlight was a loss in the Capitol. Many rooms were windowless in favor of large, paper thin, wall mounted screens. Showing scapes of forests, beaches, mountains, bustling towns. All hiding the natural beauty and warmth of the sun. Something the body craved, something the body needed to live. And it was yet another thing they took for granted.

The sole thing being life. The people of the Capitol did not understand what it meant to live. What it meant to be alive. To barely survive in harsh conditions. They didn’t not appreciate the fragility and the beauty of breathing. Of how quickly that breath could be snatched from your lungs at any given moment. That life was not measured in the fashion or style of clothing, the taste and smell of food, the color and texture of home furnishings. Life was measured by action. By purpose. By the ability to understand the meaning of it all. This was devastatingly lost upon them in the sea of glamor.

But it was not lost on you. Not as you laid in the plush bed the Capitol had for you in the apartment you stayed in for the duration of your stay. Eyes trained on the ceiling for most of the night and well into the morning. In a matter of hours you would be placed in a deadly arena with twenty three bloodthirsty children. Of course the idea scared you.

But what filled your mind was not predictions of what the arena would look like. What the mutts Umbrella cooked up in their labs would be. What horrors you’d see. How many people you’d have to kill. All you could think of was the Goddamned interviews.

Another step taken in the early days of the Games to make them more entertaining. Each Tribute was dressed up in the finest clothing made by their stylist. They were each given a five minute allotment of time to talk with the Capitol's most beloved media personality — Karl Heisenberg — and win as many people over as possible with smiles, flirtatious remarks, and witty comebacks.

It was the part you maybe most dreaded. Maybe more so than the actual Games. Fight, you could do that. You could fight people, you could maybe kill, you could definitely survive in the wilderness. But be charming and make people like you? That’s a tough one. Social cues were not your strong point. It was hard to be yourself when a large part of your authentic personality hated the Capitol and the Games.

You couldn’t exactly get on the stage and talk about how unjust the whole concept of the Hunger Games were. How inhumane it was to send twenty four children into an arena full of horrors to fight to the death. It wasn’t right. But that’s not what they wanted to hear. They wanted to hear about your favorite color, what your favorite part of your visit to the Capitol had been so far, your love life, how you planned to win. All things you didn’t feel like discussing with these people.

But, it seemed Heisenberg wasn’t as superficial as you suspected. Being from District One — and the female Tribute — meant you were first on the stage. He greeted you with an eccentric smile, shaking your hand gruffly and presenting you with flare. Yeah, yeah, the dress was stunning. Whatever.

He sat you down, asked about your home life, asked about how the Redfield siblings found you — oh, you were the favorite of the year for that story alone — and what you expected of the Games. It was only when he asked how you were feeling, truly feeling about tomorrow that your facade faltered.

He seemed so genuine. Like he really wanted to know what you’d say. How you felt. If you were as scared as he thought. And you were.

“Well, I, I supposed I’m worried.” You’d said, hands folded in your lap as your voice took a softer tone.

“How so, dear? Scared to lose? Scared to die? Scared… to win?” Heisenberg asked, leaning forward, pointing the mic softly toward your mouth. He gave you a moment, allowing you to process.

“Scared of the crown going to the wrong person.” You settled on, your words intentional, finally meeting his gaze as you spoke.

“And, and who would be the wrong person, if I may ask?” He asked, his eyes locked on you. It seemed he’d forgotten all about the crowd in front of you. The flare and grandure of the interview process.

“Me, maybe. Or, someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“And you don’t believe you deserve it?” Heisenberg asked, his voice almost incredulous. Everyone knew you were a fighter. A skilled one. Raised by Chris and Claire to be deadly.

“I don’t know.” You decided on, nodding slightly. You really didn’t know. Because why would you deserve it? What had you done to deserve riches and a Victor’s Crown? Nothing, that’s what.

Oh how that had been the wrong answer. Not in terms of the crowd’s response — they loved that, actually. Thought you to be some humble, honest, pure fighter. Who was deep inside ready to do what it took to win the Games when push came to shove. No, no. It had been the wrong answer for Claire.

All you wanted to do was linger backstage and watch the remaining Tributes’ interviews. Get a good grasp on who each one was. You had a vague idea, of course, after spending three days observing them all in training. But this, it was more of a direct look as to what they wanted. But of course, Claire couldn’t let you be.

She’d berated you, told you — with a certain amount of kindness of course — that your answer hadn’t been right. You made yourself appear weak. You made yourself look as if you wouldn’t try in that arena. But, that had been the opposite of your plan.

Of course you had a fucking plan. And the fact that Claire couldn’t see that, well it was a little hurtful. Chris and Claire were supposed to be the two people who knew you best. And Claire couldn’t see that every move, every word, and every answer in that interview had been intentional. Honest, yes, but also intentional.

That night held no sleep for you — or any of the other Tributes, really. For a few hours you tossed and turned violently, attempting to lull yourself to sleep by humming a song from your District. Then you took to an old method the matron at the orphanage you used to live at taught you. Going through every letter of the alphabet and coming up with two names for each. When that didn’t work, and it usually did because it was so fucking boring, you realized sleep was not your friend that night.

Instead, you laid in bed, eyes trained on the ceiling, running through each Tribute’s answers for their interviews. Gauging what you could expect of each one in the arena.

Of course, Piers was someone you hoped you could trust. You were from the same District and very rarely did two Tributes from the same District turn on one another. So, you didn’t exactly expect betrayal from him. But, that did not make him any less dangerous. And to think he would not be would be a stupid mistake.

As the sun rose and shone golden rays through the cracks of the sunshades, you finally decided just to be awake. This would most likely be the final time you see this room. The fuzzy rug beneath the bed, the slick polished wood of the floor, the smooth eggshell of the walls, the large windows which overlooked the central of the Capitol, the lush bathroom with its many scents and warm water, the plush bed in which you slept in for the past few days. Oh well, goodbye. You wouldn’t miss it all that much.

Feet hitting the floor, you decided to distract yourself by getting dressed and making your way to the dining room. Eat, you needed to settle the roaring nausea in your stomach that had persisted ever since you walked off the stage last night. You assumed you’d be the only one, the only soul in the apartments. But no, you were greeted by Piers. It seemed your fellow tribute had the same idea. And the same problem.

He offered a weary smile as you sat down across from him. The avox came along and set a plate of food in front of you — bran toast, yogurt dusted with granola and berries, and a rare cup of coffee. You ate in silence across from Piers, not particularly in the mood for idle chit chat. It was the day of the Games. It wasn’t a time to laugh and joke and have small talk with someone you’d be expected to compete against — and maybe kill — in a matter of hours. And really, the silence was nice. Until he opened his big mouth.

“I didn’t mean to get you into trouble the other day.” Piers said, his voice as strong and confident as always.

Your eyes raised slowly to look at him as he sat across from you — dull brown hair cropped short along the sides of his head, strong jaw that made him look fiercer than he actually was, and grey eyes. Your eyes met, his intentional as they stared into yours. He was being honest, you knew that. He hadn’t meant to get you into trouble. Because what good would that do him? You weren’t in the arena. Yet.

“I know.” You mumbled, spoon scooping up another serving of yogurt just for it to plop back down defeatedly.

Piers sighed, clearly not wanting that answer. But it was a good one. You acknowledged he hadn’t meant to do you harm, but you also hadn’t necessarily forgiven him either. Not that there really was anything to forgive in your book. He frowned.

“Chris just always talks about how good you are. In training, I mean. He always says you’re… kind too.” He pushed further, not without a gentle tone. “I guess I just thought he’d wanna know. That you did that for the guy from Twelve.”

“Leon,” you said before you could stop yourself. It wasn’t Piers’ fault. But, he should know these peoples’ names. The people he would kill. “His name is Leon. And the girl’s name is Helena.”

“Right, Leon. I thought Chris would be proud of you for helping Leon.” He nodded and shrugged weakly.

He wasn’t necessarily wrong. Chris had a penchant for being proud of nearly everything you did. He was soft on you, he was always perceived as the stronger and tougher of the Redfield siblings. But, he had a soft heart. And it was especially soft for you. So, of course he’d be proud of you wanting to help someone have a better chance. Even if it lessened yours.

But, again, it wasn’t Piers’ fault. It wasn’t his fault that you cared so much about someone you hardly knew that you found yourself in constant trouble with your mentors. You tried to be a good person — it was hard though. Especially in a situation such as your own. In a place where you would have to fight and kill for your life. It wasn’t fair. It should be easier to be good.

“I know,” you nodded, voice soft and slightly bored. It wasn’t that Piers was boring you, really you were just exhausted.

A stretch of silence passed between you two, the only sound was the soft scrape of silverware and the sound of the flatscreen in the common area playing ambient sounds. It was nice, actually. A good moment to gather your thoughts, to just be. To be human a little longer, before you had to become inhuman. It wasn’t long before Piers stood, likely going to prepare for when your stylists would come to escort you. He paused by where you were at the table, his face contemplative.

“I hope we can trust each other in there. I, I wouldn’t mind having you by my side.” Piers said almost softly, his eyes cutting to meet yours.

You looked up at him from where you sat, brows pulled together in slight awe and confusion. He expected to trust you. He wanted to trust you. “Me too, Piers.”

With your nod and agreement, he smiled a ghost of a smile before he walked off, leaving you alone in the silence of the dining room.

The halls were frigid — or maybe it was just cold sweat from your fried nerves. There was a sterile atmosphere to the halls you walked through, trailing a few steps behind Hunnigan as she guided you toward the room she was to prepare you in. The air was tinged with an intense weight that made you shiver. It was like you were walking down the hall to your death. Which really, you could be.

Hunnigan paused in front of a white door, pressing her thumb to a reader and the door sliding open. The room was just as bright and uneasy as the hallway. The door silently slid shut behind you as you stepped in, the emptiness of the space sudden and strange. The cool and silent air raised the hair on your arms as Hunnigan guided you to sit on a bench in the corner of the room, walking to an all white armoire. She slid the doors open, pulling out an outfit you assumed was to be your attire for the area. It hung on a hanger in dull colors.

It did look comfortable, however. Grey and black and dark blues, sleek fabric of a top and pants. She motioned for you to come forward, and you reached out, feeling the material between your fingers. It was thick but breathable, zippers adorning different parts of the fabric. Around the biceps, below the knees. At the back of the neck rested a hood, a zipper along the back of it to make it removable. A cloak that draped over the shoulders and chest was resting on the hanger as well, seeming to also be removable. It was obvious the gamemakers had designed the attire for maximum body coverage. Which made you wonder — what awaited you in that arena?

Hunnigan gently urged you to undress and then assisted you in pulling on the clothes. The pants were thick yet breathable, the fabric somewhat ruched at the ankles just above where the cuffs were tucked into your boots. The top was as you expected — clinging to your skin and durable. Warm but not suffocating. She pulled a pair of gloves that went up to just under your elbows, the material thick and tactical like. She fastened a sort of fanny pack to your chest, the two straps crossing your body — one over your shoulder and the other around your chest.

“I would expect humidity,” Hunnigan began as she continued to prepare your attire, then your hair. “This fabric is good for repelling moisture and keeping you warm but not overheated. The cloak comes off and fits in the pack. There are a few minor supplies in there, one small knife and a water canteen. That’s all they gave you this year.”

The fact that they’d seemed to want to prepare you for brutality with a weapon made your chest tight. So they expected a bloodbath. And of course you did too. These tributes were brutal.

You turned to her, brows creased as she finished securing your hair. You inhaled deeply, swallowing as you met her gaze. “Thank you, Ingrid, for being so kind to me. You, you understand I didn’t choose this.”

Hunnigan nodded, a sort of solemn smile on her lips as she turned around and picked something up off the table in the middle of the room. “You didn’t choose this and I know you don’t want it. But, if I could bet, it’d be on you.”

Her words were kind, and you knew she wouldn’t bet on you because she wanted the riches if you won. No, you knew she’d bet because she would want to assist you in that arena as much as she could. You smiled gratefully as she turned back around, a necklace dangling in her fingers.

“From Claire. She wanted this to be your token.” She held up the necklace you always saw Claire wearing — silver with a large feather that held a turquoise stone at the top, a twin but smaller feather right beside it. There was a slight difference though. A small circle rested on the other side of the feather, a charm that Chris usually wore as well. You had both of them now. Your chest tightened as Hunnigan clasped it on your neck, tucking it under your shirt.

Wetness pricked at your waterline, throat going tight. Claire loved you, and any beration you’d received the past week had been only for your benefit. You were her family. And she didn’t want to lose you. You knew Chris loved you, he never faltered to tell you. To bestow his pride on you. They were family. And you may never see them again. You swallowed as you looked up at Hunnigan, her hand coming up to rub up and down your arm.

A chime sounded, an automatic voice announcing sixty seconds to launch. Bile rose in your throat. This was it. The tracker had been injected on the jet an hour before. Your arm still sore from the sudden and large injection. Sixty more seconds before you were to face the twenty three remaining tributes and unknown horrors of the arena.

“You can do this, okay? Just run. As soon as that cannon goes off, run.” Hunnigan encouraged, very similarly to how Chris and Claire had instructed you to.

Run. They had told you to ignore the cornucopia and run. Make a break while you could. There would likely be packs of supplies on the outer lying ring far from the center. Grab one and bolt. That was your plan. Don’t take part in the bloodbath. Don’t make hasty allies, don’t go toward weapons, don’t be stupid. Run and make a plan.

Thirty seconds, the voice announced. A cold sweat broke across your brow, an unsettled chill running up your spine. You inhaled, stepping forward and embracing your stylist. She wasn’t family, hardly a friend. You’d met days ago but she’d been there for you. Came to understand you. You were grateful to her.

“Thank you,” you whispered one final time, face buried in her neck. She wrapped her arms around you as well, holding you close. It seemed she knew you needed one last action of comfort. One last reassurance that you were human before you were sent into the arena.

“Good luck,” she whispered back, only letting go when you pulled back. Despite yourself, your eyes were teary as you stared at the woman. You sniffled, steeling yourself as your arms dropped. You walked toward the tube, face to face with it as the voice again announced ten more seconds.

With a deep breath, you entered, the glass sliding up and sealing you in. You turned, making eye contact with Hunnigan as the ticking of the clock went town from ten. At one, the platform began to raise, your stomach roiling, your heart racing. This was it.

The sky was gray, the air humid with sprinkles of rain. A cold chill ran through your bones as the platform jolted to a stop inside the arena. Your eyes squinted, adjusting to the light sheet of rain clouding your vision. Where were you? A city, likely. In front of you rested the cornucopia — spilling with a bounty of supplies and food and weapons. Swords, knives, javelins, spears, bows, arrows, hammers, and really any weapon you could imagine save for firearms. Those were forbidden.

A flat voice rang through the air, announcing sixty seconds. You had a full minute to take in your surroundings, find the closest pack of supplies, and decide which direction you’d go before you could step off the pedestal. Even the wrong shift of weight before the time was up could lead to an explosion. It was supposed to be fair, no head starts.

Your eyes glanced along the surrounding area, attempting to see which tributes were in your line of sight. Your brows furrowed when you spotted Piers, his eyes dead set on the cornucopia. A shiver ran through you at the look in his eyes. Pure dedication and determination. He wasn’t going to lose this. Your head snapped forward, aching to look away from him. A clock tower loomed behind the cornucopia, tall and proud. Many would likely try to take residence there. Make a stand to own the cornucopia and its contents.

Thirty seconds. Your eyes searched around you, looking over your shoulder. A road arched off to the side, a broken street sign reading Raccoon Street. And pointing to the north, an arrow on a sign pointed to Victoria Street. Likely the best option. Most would stay for the bloodbath. Try to get supplies and weapons. Try to make a stand. Not you. You needed to be smarter. You hoped Leon was smart.

Leon. Your eyes snapped forward again, searching for the District Twelve tribute. The lack of success made you chest tight. He was probably positioned behind the cornucopia. God, you hoped he wouldn’t die in the bloodbath. Wouldn’t try to get to the cornucopia first.

Ten seconds. A deep breath, a rolling out of your shoulders. You needed to be ready. The monotone voice counted down from ten, a boom sounding at the one. Your feet lurched off the pedestal, racing toward one of the outer rings of the ensemble of supplies. A pack on the outer rings wouldn’t hold as much as one from the inside. But what it held would be enough. Just for a few days to make a plan then come back.

Your eyes were set on a pack, your hand reaching out to grasp the handle. You hoisted it up, slinging it over your shoulder as you quickly pivoted on the slick pavement. Both straps secured on your shoulders, you began to run away from the clock tower. You didn’t dare look behind you because you could hear it — the bloodbath. The sounds of yelling, screaming, fighting. The slick squelch of blood, the sound of bodies hitting the pavement. It made your stomach twist.

You were nearly out of the circle of pedestals when you slipped, your feet sliding out from underneath you. A gasp ripped from your throat when you realized you hadn’t slipped but been yanked back. Your back hit the pavement, the air expelling from your chest as a body loomed over you. Your eyes peeled open, going wide as you saw Richard — the boy from Eight — coming down to hold you to the ground. You thrashed, kicking your legs as his knees rested on your shoulders. His eyes narrowed down at you.

“Entitled bitch,” he spat, quickly raising the small knife that was identical to yours — the one that came in your packs. You moved your head to the side, his slash that was aimed for your throat cutting across your cheek instead. The cut stung as his opposite hand came to grip your face. “Showin’ off in the training like that. Just couldn’t help actin’ like you’re better than us, huh? Imma wipe that fuckin’ look off your face.”

Your eyes widened further as his hand gripped your neck, effectively cutting off your breathing and tilting your head back. His knife angled at the side of your mouth. Oh God, you were going to die here. Like this. At the hands of a misogynistic asshole. You kicked and trashed under him, but he was kneeling fully on your shoulders so you couldn’t move your arms. Dread filled your chest as he lowered the blade, eyes squeezing shut.

But the pain never came. Only a quick thump and a splatter of hot wet on your face. Your eyes flew open only to see Richard coughing up blood and falling to the side off your body. A knife — a throwing knife was lodged in his chest. Impeccable aim. You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking behind you, eyes searching only to land on Piers.

He nodded at you, motioning and mouthing for you to go. You nodded, not second guessing as you ripped the knife from Richard’s chest — also swiping up his knife from his pack — and running. You weren’t taking any chances. Your breathing was ragged from the adrenaline and how Richard had been nearly choking you. Your feet skidded on the pavement as you rounded the corner of Raccoon Street onto Victoria Street. Almost away, you were almost away.

Until you weren’t. A surprised yell fell from your lips as you skidded to a stop on the slick pavement, eyes wide with shock and confusion. What the fuck where those? A small number of people stumbled around the street, their movements slow and uncoordinated. You stood there, watching. Then one turned toward you. That wasn’t a person. The skin along its face was worn and greyed, one eye missing while the other was a cloudy white. Different wounds that looked nearly decayed littered its body. It wasn’t alive, but it was certainly undead.

These were the mutts this year it seemed. Your breath quickened as it paced toward you, letting out a shriek. You stumbled backward, looking around for a different direction. To the right was a dead end. To the left pointed toward Woodbine Drive. Woodbine Drive it was then. You took off toward the left, footsteps quick and heavy as you ran. As few other of the mutts littered the street, but none moved fast enough to catch you. You veered right quickly onto Woodbine Drive, relief flooding your chest as you spotted a building. A hospital. Perfect, a good place to rest and catch your breath.

Rain pattered on your head, your hands shakily coming up to pull the hood over your head. Water coursed down your face and beaded along and off the fabric of your clothes. Almost there. The doors to the entrance of the hospital were close, and you skidded to a stop as you neared them. You swung one open, inhaling deeply as you rushed inside, the door slamming shut behind you.

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you stood there, back to the door as you slunk down to the floor. It was going to be a long games.

Extra! Leon’s POV of the bloodbath!

The air was thick and heavy, rain pattering down in sheets that obscured his vision. Leon blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the change of light, blinking away the raindrops that settled on his lashes. So this was it, the arena for this year’s Games. He frowned, looking around as he soaked in his surroundings. The cornucopia stood proud in the center of the circle of tributes. A collection of supplies, food, packs, and weapons spilled from its mouth in a hypnotizing fashion. It made him crave what was there.

Except he knew it’d be stupid to take its bait. Only morons went straight for the cornucopia. Or careers. Careers. Where were you? He’d long since spotted Helena to his right, her eyes set and determined on trying to get as close to the cornucopia as possible. He didn’t see you though. You must be behind the cornucopia.

Only forty more seconds. He needed a plan. Well, he had a plan. Run, that was his plan. He didn’t feel like dying in the bloodbath. That’d be stupid. Besides, he wanted to stay alive long enough to get you as an ally. Though as much as he’d thought about it, he still couldn’t understand why he wanted you at his side during the games. You were good at combat, he’d witnessed that. But maybe it was on a more personal level. Either way, he needed to stay alive.

Thirty more seconds. His eyes landed on Richard from District Eight a few pedestals to his left, his eyes searching the area. A deep unsettled feeling seeped into Leon’s chest. He’d remembered he’d overheard Richard talking about you a few days ago. Just after your demonstration at the knife stand. How he’d thought you were spoiled and entitled. How you must think yourself better than the rest of the tributes to show off like that. How you were the first he would go after in the arena.

Shit. Leon hadn’t warned you. He’d never gotten the chance. You switched to private lessons before he got the chance. He knew good and well you could take care of yourself. But Richard was particularly nasty, didn’t seem to play fair. And you had no idea he was coming for you. Maybe, if he was lucky, Leon could find you before Richard and protect you. Or at least warn you. But who was he kidding? He couldn’t protect you. He couldn’t even hold a knife right until you showed him how.

Twenty seconds. The rain made things more complicated. It didn’t help with seeing far and the slick of the pavement would make running worse. He’d have to be smart with his movements. With his chase to find you. Ten seconds. The voice rang through the air, counting down from ten. Each number was a knife to his throat, aching and stinging until the cannon sounded and he could jump off his pedestal.

Leon ran toward the cornucopia, swiping up a pack along the way, sliding it over his shoulders. As he ran, he unzipped the pack at his chest and pulled out the knife. He needed to find you. Helena was okay, she could take care of herself. She’d already grabbed a pack and began to run toward the clock tower. Leon rounded the cornucopia, pausing for a split second to survey the area for you. Any sign of you. Your hair, your voice. Anything.

He heard a yell from behind him, a flash of blonde coming from his side. He dodged just in time, a blade ringing by his ear. Eyes wide, Leon turned, spotting Rachel from District Two. Her eyes were harshly narrowed as she swung at him with a sword again and again. He stumbled back, beginning to run again. She let out a growl, stopping as she spotted a weaker tribute. She disregarded him as he ran, obviously not caring too much about killing him specifically when she could have an easier catch. He didn’t stick around too long to hear the squelch of blood and the thump of Cindy’s body.

His only focus was finding you before Richard did. Leon paused, a breath leaving his lips as he saw you running from the cornucopia, a pack on your back as you ran. You seemed set on getting away. He was almost relieved until he saw a figure yank you back by your hood.

“No!” He shouted as you fell back, your head hitting the pavement in a sudden jerk that made his stomach churn. Fuck, Richard got to you first. He watched as the tribute from Eight terrorized you, cutting your cheek and then gripping your throat tightly.

Leon broke into a run then, but he was still too far to get to you in time. But he could damn well try. He froze when a shimmer of steel whipped through the air toward Richard. It plunged deep into his chest, the boy freezing before he coughed up thick bubbles of blood, the wetness splattering and dribbling onto your face. He fell onto the pavement by your body. You sat up in record time, head swiveling as you looked around. Leon’s gaze landed on your savior at the moment yours did. Piers.

He had never been so grateful for someone as he was Piers in that moment. Piers had saved your life when Leon couldn’t. He watched as your friend — he assumed — urged you to run. Leon’s gaze snapped back to you, watching as you stood, scrambling to run down Raccoon Street and skidding to the left toward Victoria Street.

He lurched forward, intending to follow you. But someone cut him off, skidding to a stop in front of him with a spear pointed at him. He cursed under his breath. He’d have to find you. He backed up, turning swiftly on his heel and running away from the bloodbath, in the opposite direction of where you went. Maybe he could circle around. But for now, he needed to get away from the cornucopia.

Leon ran down Raccoon Street, running straight until he reaching the intersection of Raccoon and Warren Street. He paused, assessing where he should go next. Straight would be best, he’d be less likely to get lost that way. He continued forward, stopping at the first building he saw. R.C. Radio Station, the sign above it read. He decided it was his best option. Best to get away from the tributes and whatever mutts there could be.

He ran toward the lot where the building was, coming to a stop in shock. Mutts. He frowned, they didn’t look like mutts from a distance. They looked like people. Until one that was to his right inched toward him with a screech. It was undead. Skin rotted and peeling and mouth half torn open. It’s throat was missing. So this was what Umbrella had cooked up this year. Fucking perfect.

Leon didn’t hesitate to make his way to the radio station, throwing the door open and shutting it, searching for something to block the door with. He used a chair, lodging it under the door handles. He was safe, secure. He could think of a plan now. A way to get to you.

daily click! 🇵🇸

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[theemporium]

idk if you’ve seen it but there’s a trend on TikTok of playing a voicemail of a creepy guy in front of your boyfriend and I feel like brothers bff!reader would have to literally console quinn after trying that prank on him. boy would be murderous.

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It was just meant to be a prank. 

A friend had sent you it, laughing at the compilation of reactions the video included to the fake voicemail. It was entertaining seeing how these men reacted differently, or seeing how many of them instantly became protective of the woman in their life who played the fake voicemail. 

You thought it looked fun to try out. 

It was some random week in October when you decided to fly out and spend some time with Quinn. It was reading week back in college and you had worked pretty well at staying on top of your classes, so you deserved the treat to fly out and spend some time with your boy. 

And other than the practices Quinn had to attend, he was practically glued to your side the rest of the week which made it easy to pull off the prank on a Thursday morning when you were sitting on the counter as Quinn made you both coffee. 

“Oh god.” 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, his back still facing you but the disgusted scoff gave him a clear understanding that you weren’t happy. 

“Nothing, just an annoying lab partner,” you murmured, pressing your lips together to try and hold back your giggles. “I think he left me a voicemail.”

Quinn didn’t get much of a chance to say anything before the voicemail started. You watched him closely, the way his actions paused as he began to listen. 

“This is the final chance I am giving you. You are being ridiculous, and like most women, not thinking logically. Consider this your last chance to put your emotions aside and think with your brain.”

The coffee was abandoned in seconds as Quinn whirled around, looking at you with an expression mixed between shock and disgust. He placed his hands on the counter, stepping towards you as he continued to listen to the voicemail. 

“I am a good guy, one of the best you are going to find. So, I suggest you stop playing this hard-to-get game because nobody is believing you. You won’t find anyone better than me, not at college and not in bed. I have reservations for Friday night at the Italian place off campus. I expect you there and—”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Quinn gritted out between clenched teeth, a disgruntled scoff leaving his lips as he reached for his phone. “Give me a name.”

You blinked, almost surprised by the expression on his face. You didn’t think you had ever seen Quinn so angry before, not even on the ice. 

“A name,” Quinn repeated as he looked over towards you, eyes darkened and jaw clenched. “That is…he’s a fucking pervert. And a creep. I don’t want him near you. I don’t want him in the fucking college.” 

“Quinn—” you started, but he was lost to his own anger now.

“I’m gonna make sure he’s kicked out and sent somewhere far fucking away from you. Better yet, we can get a restraining order,” he continued as he scrolled through his phone, his eyebrows furrowed together as he searched for something. “I don’t want you going back with him just walking around. Does Luke even know? Does anyone—”

“Quinn,” you said again, a little louder this time as you rounded the counter to gently take ahold of his hands. You slowly pried the phone from his hands, a sheepish expression on your face. “He isn’t real.”

He frowned. “What? Babe, you don’t have to protect him—”

“I’m not protecting anyone, Quinn, I—” You took a deep breath before you continued. “It was a prank I saw on Tiktok. People were posting their partner’s reactions and I thought it would be funny.”

“Oh,” was all Quinn seemed to say.

“I’m sorry—” But you cut yourself off when he launched towards you, wrapping you in a tight hug as he clung onto you. Your arms automatically wrapped around his torso, nuzzling yourself further into his chest.

“You’d tell me if something like that was really happening, right?” Quinn murmured against the top of your head. 

“Of course,” you answered honestly.

“Good,” he said with a small sigh, his arms tightening around you. “I’d kill any fucker that makes you uncomfortable.”

You snorted. “It was kinda hot seeing you get all protective.”

“I’m glad you think as much because even though I know it’s fake, my body hasn’t caught on yet so I am not letting you go for the next hour,” Quinn murmured, though you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I have no issue with that,” you replied honestly, biting back your own grin as he placed a kiss to your forehead.

.

[0blobthefish0]

Can I please have a maria hill x fem reader fluff? either a comfort fic where maria comforts the reader or a crush and reader is also a shield agent please, thank you <3

Chocolate, flowers, and wine

maria hill masterlist | main masterlist

Maria Hill x Reader 3,057 words

a/n - a month or two too late! I am so sorry, i've been busy and have exams coming up! hopefully, i'll be more active when summer comes around. thank you so much for the request

warnings of blood & knife-related wounds

You can’t help the fact that your eyes drift over to her every so often, she’s compelling. You can’t help the fact that every time she looks at you your heart beats faster, she’s got the most perfect smile. And, you can’t help the fact that you’ve got a crush on her, she’s Maria Hill.

Your thumb clicks up and down on the pen as you stare off into the distance, your position slouched within your office chair, and the light of the, unnecessarily, large monitor illuminated your face. You’ve known Maria for a long time, the two of you joined S.H.I.E.L.D together, but you had found an interest within the analytics, whereas she had gone on to become one of the best agents the organisation had ever seen. And rightly so; Maria Hill was one of the hardest working people that you have ever met. 

When you had landed a job within the main headquarters, Maria Hill was the first to greet you and welcomed you back as old friends. The few years spent apart had done her well, she had matured exponentially and it looked good on her - her head held high and her posture straight, no longer embarrassed that she towered over most of her peers. Young Maria Hill, when you look back, was endearing and one of the things that you’ve silently appreciated was the fact that her eyes still looked at you the same.

“Y/n?” Maria almost shouted and you jumped, sitting upright in your chair, before your eyes focussed on her. She was leaning against the door, her hand still in a fist from when she had knocked. “You okay?” She questioned as she timidly came into your space.

“Um,” you shook yourself out of your head, “yeah, all good.”

“Really?” She quizzed, sceptically, and sat on your desk. Her long legs splayed out, her foot tapping against yours from time to time.

You smiled up at her lazily, “Yes, I’m sure, just taking a break from staring at that screen all day,” you groaned knowing that you’d have to go back to work soon. But damn did your eyes need a break.

“Walk with me?” Maria smiled, hopefully.

“Not enough action going around for you, Hill?” You teased, getting up from your chair anyway. She shrugged with a small smirk before following you out. The two of you entertain yourselves with idle chatter as you take a stroll around the buildings, through the many, many corridors and rooms. The organisation has really grown since you first started, so many new faces, so much new equipment; you can’t help but feel amazed at what they’ve accomplished as you look around. 

“Is this new?” You gawk as Maria opens the door to a new building, it’s bright and very white.

“It’s been open for two years,” Maria deadpans in shock. “How much time do you really spend in that little office of yours?” You choose not to answer and instead move your attention to the many little rooms on show by the massive panel of glass on each side of the corridor. They’re little labs, filled with lots of little experiments and big ideas. Maria stares at you softly, your eyes wide with awe as they follow the movements of white-coat cladded people shuffling around the rooms. You never really leave your office, only venturing out to go home or collect lunch; sometimes you eat it in the hall, only if Maria is around, but you mostly make your way back into your little sanctuary. You’ve missed so much, always getting caught up in work, time seems to fly by at an insane speed.

It’s dark again when you make your way home and you unlock the door to the still air of your apartment. Of course you’ve thought about getting a pet of some sorts, maybe a fish, but you always refrained. It’d be selfish of you to leave them for that long, spending all day on their own and sometimes even the night, you couldn’t do that. You quickly get ready for bed, too exhausted to do anything else, and slip underneath the covers hugging the soft blankets close. Sleep finds you quickly and you lose yourself to an almost familiar dreamland. 

“Hm, thanks, Y/n,” Maria hums as you pass her a steaming mug of coffee. She’s on the sofa, legs out and resting on the footstool with a blanket wrapped around her lower half with an open laptop resting on her thighs. Your eyes follow her mug as she takes a sip and her face suddenly comes into focus - the butterflies erupt. Her dark brown hair is haphazardly put up, strands falling and curling against her neck and jaw, and a pair of dark framed glasses rests on the bridge of her nose. Bright blue eyes turn to yours above the lip of her mug and your heart beats erratically through your chest, are you short of breath? Maria’s left hand wraps around the rim of her mug as she brings it down from her lips and she stretches away from you to place it on the coffee table beside the sofa.

She comes back with a small smile on her lips, your sole focus is on her, you haven’t looked away and she’s acting as if it’s normal. “C’mere,” she whispers and cranes her neck back as you lean in close-

You wake with a jolt. The beat of your heart is as loud as it was in your dream. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! No, this can’t be happening? Of course, you’ve always had a small crush on Maria, but this? This was something different, something... more. You let out a deep groan as you hold your head in your hands. It’s still dark, but there’s no way you’ll be able to get back to sleep after that so you get out of bed and reluctantly get dressed. You need to distract yourself.

You hold your keycard up against the sensor of the lift and beep yourself in and make your way to the front desk.

“Do we have anything time consuming we’ve been putting off?” You question the man sitting there, Mark, with a shy smile. Mark’s the analytics overviewer for your team, keeping track of all the things that need to be done, sorting them into most to least important, assigning them around the team, and just making sure everything is running as smoothly as possible.

“Oh, Y/n, you angel, now this,” he turns the monitor of his screen to you, “is gonna take you a week, maybe longer,” he warns and you nod your head anyway.

“Send it over, I’ll get it done,” you smile and he thanks you silently with his hand pressed flat against each other.

You spin on your heel and almost jump back when you see her.

“Y/n,” Maria grins and easily falls in step with you as you begin to make your way to your office, “I saw that you signed in; couldn’t sleep?” You find that you can’t meet her eyes and nod your head in response. She peers down at you as you walk, you’re still wrapped in a scarf with a hat on your head, you look so cozy and warm and it makes her smile. “Bad dream?” She questions and you let out a shaky breath as you’re pulled back into the memory.

“Something like that,” you confess, your cheeks growing warm under the scarf. “What time are you going home?” 

Maria shrugs, “Not sure, hopefully by midday,” she answers just as the two of you round the corner to your office. “I’ll see you around, okay?” She pauses in front of your door and you give her a nod before waving her goodbye.

She had noticed that you signed in and came down to see you, damn, she was not making this any easier. You can’t want her, it just- shouldn’t be allowed. You’ve been friends for far too long for anything to change now.

— — — — — 

That, supposedly, week-long task was turning out to be much longer. Much, much longer. You had run into a massive flaw early on in the process, which you then had to fix. It was painstaking to say the least, the more than usual sleepless nights kept the bags under your eyes dark, and you couldn’t remember the last time you had seen the light of day. However, it did keep your mind preoccupied, pushing the thoughts of Maria to the back; where it would quietly hum every now and then to remind you that they weren’t going away. 

Tirelessly, after a month and half, you were finally finished. 

The click as you unlocked your door sounded celebratory and you quickly shed your outer layers, not caring to pick them off from the floor, before you collapsed onto your sofa. And it felt blissful, god you needed this. On your way out of the main office, Mark had congratulated you and gave you the very special news that you were inclined to a week break; you nearly jumped for joy.

Your eyes became heavier and heavier, you could move to your bed, you should probably move, you weren’t twenty anymore and a sore neck was no joke. You frowned into the fabric of the sofa, you’d deal with it in the morning. 

Brring!

Nevermind. Begrudgingly, you got up from the sofa and padded over to your front door and pulled it open. You nearly jumped back in surprise. Maria stood opposite you bearing gifts of wine, chocolates and flowers, with a sly grin on her face. Your heart almost instantly began to play an erratic beat.

“I can’t believe you’re still awake,” Maria stated incredulously, as she walked into your home. You took a glance at your clock to find that it was nearing one in the morning. With furrowed brows you turned back to Maria to see her filling a vase with water to display the flowers she got for you, your favourite flowers. 

“Y’know you have your own key, I was comfortable.”

“Where, on the couch? And my hands were full,” she sent you a pout as you approached her, before she went back to arranging the flowers. A dark strand of hair fell in front of her face, and, unconsciously, you reached your hand out and gently tucked it back behind her ear. Maria gave you a soft smile as she met your gaze and you quickly looked at the perfectly arranged flowers, hoping that she’ll miss the heat in your cheeks.

“Woah, you always do so well with these,” you gawk and your hands wrap around the cool curve of the glass. As you carry it over to its designated space, Maria’s eyes follow and you miss the soft smile still on her face. 

“So, I’m thinking, movie, pasta, and wine,” Maria states, moving to grab the bottle opener from the kitchen drawer.

You chuckle to yourself, “Like it ever changes.” You hear the recognisable pop of Maria pulling the cork out the neck of the bottle and the light of the tv illuminates your figure. “Hm, any special requests?” You question as you scroll through the list of movie posters.

“Ooh, how about that one?” You hear Maria call out and you flick back.

“This one?”

“Other one. Yeah.” She confirms and you nod your head as you press play. When you come back to her, she’s already got a pot of water ready to boil on the stove. 

The two of you chat idly as you move comfortably around each other, chopping up tomatoes, cooking the meat, and occasionally sipping on the wine. It smelt heavenly. It’s quick, but pasta usually is, and you watch Maria from above the rim of your wine glass as she finishes garnishing each dish.

“Voilà!” She kisses her fingers and turns to you holding out your plate, “It is done.” 

“Beautiful,” you compliment as you take it, though your eyes never leave hers. Maria swallows and turns her head down to her pasta. 

Unspokenly, you both decide to remain in the kitchen and your idle chatter returns. That is until Maria turns to you suddenly more seriously, the wine has visibly gotten to her now and you’re sure it has gotten to you in the same way, otherwise you might have put up more of a facade. 

“What’s been on your mind, Y/n? Or,” she pauses her eyes squinting at you, “should I say who?” Her eyebrows raise and you can’t help the large smile that overcomes your lips. Shit. You fruitlessly attempt to hide it with your wine glass. “Oh my god, I was right!? Who is she? Does she work with us? She has to, you never go anywhere else but to work.” Maria talks, answering her own question. You shake your head at her, taking another sip of wine.

“No- no, no, no, you’re telling me. You have to. You have to! Pleaaaase,” She begs you, inching closer and closer with each word. You keep your lips closed, and Maria continues to press becoming increasingly whiny and you laugh at her. 

“Fine,” you huff out. “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll tell you, a little bit.” Just a little bit, otherwise she might be able to tell, even in her drunken state Maria Hill was still a top agent. You feel your face instantly heat up as you begin to talk. “It’s stupid, it’s- I don’t really- it’s a crush, it’s childish…”

You don’t even look at Maria as you talk, instead opting for the bottom of your glass, but as your smile grows, Maria’s falls. It fades, ever so slightly, no longer quite reaching her eyes, as you talk about this mystery girl. Sobriety seems to punch her in the face, and her stomach drops. She feels stupid, how can one be so in tune to other people’s emotions and forget to acknowledge her own? You’re always on her mind, she’s always finding a way to see you during the day. Who else would she turn up in the middle of the night for, except for you? No one, she couldn’t even think. Fury? No, she would never turn up just because. Fuck, how could she have missed it for so long? 

— — — — — 

It’s been three weeks since your last dinner together. Three weeks since Maria started not coming into your office as often. Two weeks since she left for that mission, and one week until she was set to come back. 

And yet you stood outside her door. 

Chocolate, flowers and wine in hand. 

It’s been less than a minute since you knocked, but you can’t stand it. Your fingers fumble for your keys, your skin sweaty, and your heart pumping blood as if you’re being held at gunpoint. The mission went wrong, it went wrong. Missions finish early, missions finish late, sometimes missions get cut, rarely do missions go wrong. Maria’s mission went wrong. 

You finally push open the door and pull your key out.

“Maria?” You call out, placing the gifts on the kitchen counter as you pass. Your eyes find the small droplets of blood littering the floor, and you draw in a deep breath. Stupid. Always putting others in front of her own health, no sense of self preservation. It trails to the bathroom, the hum of light is loud in comparison to the silence of the apartment, and then you hear her. A hiss through gritted teeth.

“Maria,” you call just above a whisper. She turns to you and her shoulders slump. You notice, first, the large gash across her right cheekbone, then her right eye - clouded over with red. You’re surprised you didn’t see it first. Her lip is split, as well as her eyebrow. You shake your head at her as you approach. “I wish you’d let them fix you up, it’s what they’re there for, what you hired them for. They’re smart enough to know who to tend to first,” you berate half-heartedly, and you move to take the cloth from her hand. 

“Y/n-”

“Nah-ah, I took the same training as you did, Hill, don’t you forget that.” A small smile appears and you mirror it.

“How could I ever forget?” She replies and you move to rinse the cloth under fresh water to dab at the wounds on her face. 

It’s quiet as you work, disinfecting her cuts and taping them up. You’re close to her, inches from her face, you’ve done this before, been this close before, but this time it feels different. 

Maria doesn’t take her eyes off of you once, silently watching, the scene is movielike; in which the protagonist finally falls in love with the love interest. The love interest who is too caring for her own good, too kind, too soft, too good. The love interest who fixes up the protagonist every time she gets hurt. 

Maria catches the end of your sentence, something about tea, just as you turn to leave, but she catches your hand. Her blue eyes search your face and her fingers are burning hot. 

“Are you doing okay?” Your voice is laced with concern, and you press the back of your other hand to her forehead. Her hand is still on yours. “You’re looking a little warm,” you point out.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“You- what?” You whisper, and now it’s your turn to search her face, your gaze moving from one eye to the other. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to hear, and your heart beats faster. You hold onto her hand tighter. “Say it again.” 

“I’m in love with you.” You watch her lips form the words, and your heart skips a beat. 

“I’m in love with you too.” 

Maria tugs you toward her and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. The cut in hers pulses with a warm pain, protesting against the pressure, but she couldn’t care less. As the kiss finishes and you pull back, you make a jab at her shoulder.

“You had me worried, thought you were gonna faint or something, why must you always be so silly? You huff out, Maria only smiles at you.

“What was that you said earlier? Coffee?”

“Tea.”

“Coffee.” 

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 1

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Warnings: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

Next

CH.1

‘What is he doing here? Ten years and he comes to Gravity Falls of all places? He must want something… Probably money. I don’t have the time or energy to entertain his neediness or dependency.’

‘Wait, what? Why’d he just walk past me? He’s ignoring me? Is this some mental game he’s trying to play? I’m not playing his games today. He isn’t going to manipulate me into starting a dialogue.’

‘...And he’s still walking away, hasn’t even turned his head back.’

‘Whatever, it doesn't bother me.’ 

‘It doesn't bother me.’

‘It bothers me!’

‘IT BOTHERS ME A LOT!’ “HEY!”

"Woah, stop yelling-. Can I help you?"

"Is that all you have to say, after what you did?"

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"Really, Stanley?"

"Look man if I owe you money, I'll have it by the end of the week."

"It hasn't been that long, there's no reason you shouldn't recognize me."

"Drawing a blank, buddy. Maybe you're not that special."

"...Me? Your twin? Your identical twin?"

"I think I'd know if I had a twin - look, sorry if you're mistaking me for someone else. But you're really barking up the wrong tree here."

"Wait, what's wrong with-"

"Woah dude, hands off!"

"Stanley... are you injured?"

"Uh, yeah. But it's not a big deal."

"What's your injury?"

"Keep your damn voice down, guy-"

"Stanford- Ford. You know that!"

"Okay FORD if you must know, it's just a couple stab wounds. Nothing to worry about."

"A couple?! As in more than one? Have you been to the hospital for this?"

"I can't afford that shit. Three stab wounds isn't anything serious- four would slow me down, I don't start to worry until about five."

"That's not how stab wounds work!"

"Please, I've been stabbed enough times to know."

"Somethings very wrong, Stanley- you need medical care, and fast-"

"What are you, a doctor?"

"Yes."

"...A medical doctor?"

"...No."

"Uh-huh, okay PhD, I appreciate your civic concern, but my conditions and lack thereof is none of your business. I'm sure you're a decent conversationalist when you're talking to someone you know, but I got places I need to be"

"Wait, before you go, I have one more question. Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?"

"Pft, you really think I'd fall for that?"

"No."

CLICK

*Looks down and see’s Ford jabbed him in the abdomen with a tranquilizing gun. Looks back up at Ford. Looks back down at the gun slightly longer. Then looks back up at Ford again.*

"Touché, Doc."

To be continued...

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 4 ~ PESTILENCE

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: words cannot describe how excited i am for the next chapter

chapter warnings: fighting but not violent per se, excuse all the time skips there will be less later on i'm just setting everything up still, fun fact: all the sports facts about the boys are true (i hope),

chapter word count: 2.3k

More weeks pass. It’s almost been two months since the first horseman landed on his ship.

Your leg is healing. Under Minho’s strict commands, you stay in most of the time, which means you have to sit around inside the lab a lot, making conversation with whoever isn’t on a supply run (if that’s what’s happening) and not doing much else. It turns out it is possible to get bored in the middle of an apocalypse.

You can’t get your head around Jeongin. The rest of the boys baby him - he is the youngest, after all - and he is friendly at times, if not a little wary at others, but you see the strength that limns his limbs and wonder why he doesn’t often go on supply runs like Chan, Minho and Seungmin. You suspect he’s been ordered to watch you and make sure you don’t do anything weird while the others are gone and you’re left with whoever is staying back, but while he’s been doing that he’s found a friend in you.

Aside from Jeongin, mainly Jisung, Felix, Hunjin and Changbin stay back. You soon learn that the reason why Changbin stays back is for their protection, and that Hyunjin, Jisung and Felix don’t usually go out because seeing the world as it is takes a toll on them that the others are willing to shoulder in their stead, not because they aren’t lacking in skills.

That’s not to say it doesn’t affect Minho, Chan and Seungmin - you’ve woken up in the night to hear rustling blankets to your left and Minho spilling what’s on his heart to Jisung. You closed your eyes and tried to fall asleep again to grant them their privacy.

Interestingly, the main thing the stay-at-home gang does while supply runs are happening is spar or work out. You suppose there isn’t much to do other than read the small selection of books and comics Jisung dragged back one day, and the working out at least helps rehabilitate your calf as it heals. The sparring provides a surprising amount of entertainment.

Changbin runs a tight ship. It also turns out that Felix somehow managed to amass sixty three taekwondo medals while he was younger, Chan did boxing, and Minho did both. You stick to sparring with Jisung and Jeongin and sometimes Seungmin.

Normally, it’s fun. Normally, you wouldn’t blanch at the sight of Jeongin circling you on the blankets laid out specifically for this purpose, but you are, because there’s a dull throbbing in the back of your head - the beginnings of a headache. Still, you’re not going to back down. Your pride prevents it.

You feint to the right, and Jeongin takes the bait. It allows an opening, and you take it, lunging forward and hooking your foot around the back of his legs. He crashes to the floor - you send him a cheeky grin.

“Ohhh,” Jisung gasps from where he’s sitting on the “sidelines”.

Jeongin twists and rolls, earning a small round of applause from Changbin when he snags your sleeve and brings you down too. Scrabbling for purchase in the blankets, you grapple with him, both of you trying to flip so the other is beneath. You can hear Changbin counting down - once he reaches zero, you’ll be able to try and grab the piece of paper taped on his back and claim your victory.

You need to get the upper hand, and fast. Jeongin’s taller and has longer reach, so it will be easier for him to grab your paper. Locking a leg around his hip, you abruptly change the direction of the roll, just as Changbin reaches zero; both of you gasp, and Jeongin kicks out with his leg, dislodging you and whirling around to sock you in the stomach, knocking the air out of you.

“Quit playing dirty, Yang Jeongin!” Changbin yells.

With a groan, you push yourself to your feet. You can’t tell if somewhere in the whole mess, you hit your head or if it’s just the building pressure at the base of your neck from the headache. Jeongin looks a little concerned. You brush yourself off. You’re not going to let him go easy on you just because he feels guilty for punching you.

Focusing on his centre of mass, you try to predict where he’s going to strike next. You see his gaze flick left, his right shoulder dipping. A low whistle sounds from Seungmin - he can see what Jeongin is going to do.

So do you.

He lurches left and charges. You stand your ground, as, at the last second, Jeongin ducks right and aims for the paper on your back. Leaning to the side, you barely avoid his grasp and stick your leg out, tripping him so he goes sprawling.

Before he can recover, you plant a foot on his back and reach down to swipe his paper. He struggles against you, trying to get up - it’s never over until it’s over, as Jisung said one time when Minho and Changbin sparred for half an hour non stop - but it’s a lost cause. You’re strong enough to keep him down.

Well, you’re strong enough when your head isn’t getting split like a melon.

Because that’s what it feels like - the building pressure from the headache detonating in your skull, ricocheting bolts of pain spearing through your thoughts and whiting out your vision. Your legs turn to jelly. Abruptly, Jeongin surges up, not expecting you to suddenly let up the pressure, let alone topple to the floor.

He snatches the paper off your back, but you barely notice it, battling a swelling nausea that rises like bile in your chest. Frowning, he crouches before you and searches your face. Briefly, you wonder if your calf has gotten infected, but Minho deftly changes the bandages every other morning with his sure hands and assessing gaze, and he reported nothing - in fact, he said you wouldn’t need to wrap it soon.

“Are you okay?” Jeongin asks as he helps you up, that frown of his overflowing with worry.

“Yeah,” you say, wondering why you’re lying. “It’s just my leg.”

He opens his mouth, clearly about to argue, but there’s a kerfuffle outside, and Minho enters the room, triumphantly brandishing a vacuum-packed container of pudding. It’s rare for his smile not to morph into something more threatening when he sees you, but he seems too happy to care about that now, holding the pudding above his head like a trophy as Chan laughs and Hyunjin rolls his eyes with a fond smile.

You really don’t want to interrupt the happy moment. You don’t want to ruin their joy, but you can feel fear bubbling up in your throat and filling your lungs as you realise you’re not tired or dehydrated or hungry. There’s no other explanation for your headache except the one thing you dread: a lone rider, seated on a white horse, with a bow and arrow wielded in its hands.

Pestilence.

As if thinking the name invoked it, a surge of intense vertigo swamps you. Swaying, you flail out a hand, reaching for anything to steady yourself, but there’s nothing nearby, and you stumble one step, two, backwards, before your legs crumple beneath you and you sit down hard. A cough wracks your body, followed by another wave of overwhelming nausea.

Muted pain radiates from your tailbone, but you ignore it. It doesn’t make sense: you haven’t been outside since the dog bite, and that was more than a month ago. Even if you did get it from the dog, it would have shown itself earlier, wouldn’t it?

You guess most things don’t make sense any more.

Unbidden, an image of the first horseman appears in your head - the horse has sprouted wings, and both have shrunk so they’re about the size of your head as they flap around you. You almost feel the sting as the arrow sinks into your back, deep enough that it touches your heart.

With far more effort than it should take, you look up at the boys. They’re already all looking at you, and you feel your hands begin to tremble. Felix is looking at you with this sort of horror that grows and grows, and Minho has stepped in front of Jisung and Hyunjin, gripping his knife so hard that his knuckles are whiter than the pale shade Jeongin’s face has gone. Changbin curses. Seungmin remains silent but stares. Chan looks like he wants to take a step towards you.

You look up at him, imploring. “I - I don’t feel so good.”

Minho speaks first, voice sharp enough to be accusatory. “Yeah, we can tell.”

You bite your lip, fighting to force your words out before you lose it completely. “You have to go. Just leave me behind, or drag me out of here and put me somewhere. You - ” You clutch your head, fighting another pulse of pain. “You need to save yourselves.”

A stunned silence follows, and then the whole room erupts. You wince as they all begin yelling over each other. You can tell it’s serious because Chan is shouting too, not trying to restore order but arguing with Minho.

It occurs that they’re acting like you’re not there. There’s no surprise in that, really, but it means that you can hear Felix, Jisung and Hyunjin sticking up for you, as well as Changbin and Jeongin, which you weren’t expecting. A half laugh slips from you as you see Minho’s still holding the pudding, but it dies on your tongue, leaving a sour taste.

You’ve got the Pestilence. You’re probably going to kill them all.

This is a glimpse, you realise, of what they’re like when they don’t agree. The harmony has dissolved, and it’s your fault. You’ve never seen them so stressed. Chan’s practically tearing out his hair, and for the first time, from your spot on the bucking floor, trying to cling on so it doesn’t tip you off the edge of the world, you notice his deep eye bags.

There’s a flurry of movement, and suddenly Minho has grabbed Jisung’s arm, his gaze glittering with panic as he shakes him a little, like he’s trying to force some sense into him. You can see the veins in his neck begin to stand out, and even with Changbin and Chan snapping at each other, you hear his words clear as day.

“There’s no way she’ll survive,” he seethes. “Do you really want to stay and watch her die? Because I don’t.”

You flinch. Jisung’s eyes are on you. He looks like a cornered rabbit. Chan’s head snaps to glare at them when he hears Minho, and the livid expression on his face strikes you through with sinking fear. You don’t want them to fight, especially not over you, but you can’t raise your voice over a trembling whisper.

Changbin scrubs a frustrated hand over his face, trying to separate Chan and Minho. Felix is trapped between Hyunjin and Seungmin, looking just as cornered as Jisung. You want to fix it, want to get up and yell at them to stop and just go, but all you do is double over and cough. Useless.

All at once, everyone falls silent.

Jeongin is pointing out the window, his lips moving, but you can’t hear over the roaring in your ears. Painfully, you turn your head to see what they’re all staring at, and you choke so hard you begin to cough again. A ship is whizzing upwards. You know that ship, even though it looks like all the others, because only one ship ever landed on the surface.

Pestilence’s ship.

Pestilence is leaving.

As the ship moves up to join the others hanging in the violent red sky, you cough again. The boys’ gazes all fall to you, huddled on the floor, and determination streaks across Chan’s face. He pulls his masks out of his pocket, donning all of them and shaking off Minho when he roughly grabs his shoulder.

Helpless, you look up at him, wanting to cry. You don’t know what this means. You can barely think. There are claws sinking into your brain, razorlike pinpoints of agony, and your ribs ache from coughing.

Gently, he cups your chin and produces a water bottle, helping you drink. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “You’ll be fine here. We’ll make sure you’re comfortable, okay? We’re not leaving you.”

You nod, trying to remember why you wanted them to go before. Consciousness is slipping through your fingers like sand. Shadows swirl and twirl like dancers at the corners of your eyes, and you flap your hand to dismiss them, but they dart out of your way and inch closer, the detail on their faces smudged but for rictus grins matching Pestilence’s.

Chan holds the water bottle up again. You grip his wrist before he can lift it to your lips, stopping him, opening your mouth to ask a question that doesn’t form. The shadows are closing in, and you stare up at him, terrified, as his face transmogrifies into that of the first horseman; you try to scramble backwards, but there are shackles around your feet, and the shadows are holding you down. You can’t get away.

They won’t go.

Why won’t they go?

And then he’s Chan again, and Minho stands at his shoulder, eyes resigned. Someone smooths their hand over your sweaty hair, and there’s the softness of blankets beneath you and a low, calming voice in your ear. You don’t feel calm, though. The shadows are still there, prowling.

They’re hungry.

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