#like. they're not his in any description at all lol

[seiwas]

@soumies

Megumi for knife to the throat but the blade can't seem to cut this weird sexual tension we've got going on

you're the only one that's holding me down, megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 1.3k synopsis pressing a blade to your ex-fiance's throat, and other loving, tender moments content contains exes still in love, slight angst

Staring directly into someone’s face is such an intimate act. 

You don’t realize this fact until you’re straddling Megumi’s annoyingly slim waist, the glint of your blade against his throat causing the sunlight to beam right into your eye. 

Everyone claims that Megumi Fushiguro is the ultimate pretty boy. Mai claims that his bone structure is undefeated and that any sane girl would commit atrocious crimes against humanity to get lashes as nice as his natural ones. Momo says that she’s never seen a shade of blue eyes as pretty as Megumi’s (her only frame of reference, by the way, happen to be her own bug-eyes and Satoru Gojo’s, whose eyes are so freakishly, eerily icy blue that you’re thankful he wears the blindfold twenty-four/seven). Even Miwa, who is too busy trying to earn a living, can take the time to admit that Megumi Fushiguro is the exact type of person the ancient Greeks model gods after. 

You want to blame their admiration of Megumi on the fact that thanks to their attendance at the Kyoto school, interactions with cute boys were few and far between. Todo’s fine, if you’re into loudmouths who could also pose as the poster boy for steroids — or, even better, those clickbait ads on shady websites that tell you if you take this magical pill, in three days, you can be as shredded as him! Noritoshi is so stiff and aloof that no one can view him as hot. Mechamaru is a fucking robot. 

So, the bar for the Kyoto girls’ rating of attractiveness is damn near hell. You examine Megumi’s face and eagerly search for a flaw to hold against him. There’s a faint, barely noticeable scar above his lips. It blends into his skin seamlessly, and you think your eyes could be tricking you. However, you latch onto this scar. Megumi Fushiguro is not the perfect specimen, you think smugly. 

“Let me go,” he snaps. “If anyone’s acting under the effects of the curse, it’s you.”

“You’re not exactly in the position to be ordering me around,” you point out. You have one hand pressed against his chest to steady yourself, the other gripping the knife. 

“Clearly you still consider me a threat.” His eyes flicker downwards, even though he can’t possibly see his hands. They’re bound behind his back, his cursed energy sealed from the specialized handcuffs you managed to lock on him. The last thing you needed was for him to sic his wild animals on you. 

“Maybe I just like this position.” 

A momentary truce forms when you don’t tease him for his cheeks turning pink, and he pretends not to notice that when you realize your accidental underlying innuendo, your grip on the dagger loosens considerably. 

Megumi is fully aware that your bark and your bite are on the same level of batshit insane. He figures this is just how all women sorcerers have to be in order to survive this environment. If you say you’re going to slit his throat at the first sign of him being compromised by a curse, he can trust that you would keep your word. 

You didn’t threaten him, though. Instead, when the curse nearly got a good touch on him, you had screamed out his name. You let the curse get away in favor of tackling him to the ground, and the frenzied look on your face as you searched him for any sign of possession makes his insides twist and heat rise to his cheeks and paint the tips of his ears a flushed pink. 

For a second, it still felt like you cared about him. 

Then, you slapped those restrictive cuffs on him and got on top, as a means to restrain him. He had frozen up when he realized how close your bodies are, how he can feel the warmth from you traveling and enveloping his own body. 

This is bad, Megumi realizes. Not because the curse got to him — it didn’t. It’s bad that his heart still goes pitter-patter every time you’re near, and that he’s hyper aware of the way your body fits nicely and neatly against his own. He knows that it’s wrong to be feeling this way, to want to savor every last scrap of you that he can get. The jujutsu world is small. Nearly everyone knows about the broken engagement between you two. Having the both of you paired up for a mission, especially since your territories are so far from each other, is a sick and twisted joke. 

The curse thrives on couples, intertwining itself with its victim and twisting their host’s love into hatred. There’s been a recurring theme of lovers murdering their significant others. The more love in their heart, the stronger the curse’s manipulation. 

It just goes to show that too much love is a fucking burden, a curse in and of itself. You know that it is, because if it came down to it, if Megumi were truly compromised and wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t have it in you to kill him first. 

“I told you, I haven’t been hit by the curse.” 

“How can I know that this isn't just a trick? You’ve always been good at self-restraint and hiding yourself from me.” The comment is petty, all things considered. In the end, when Megumi asked you if breaking off the engagement was what you truly wanted, you remained expressionless and impassive. We can’t ever go back to the way things were. There’s no point in not breaking it off. 

He scoffs. “Don’t you think I’d kill myself the minute I felt something in me shift?”

You know Megumi. He doesn’t say things just to say them. He means it, every word, and you don’t know why, but it makes the part of you that longs for him — the part of you that is always in a constant state of wanting him, needing him — intensify. Multiply. Takes over your whole entire system until you are reduced to a being whose hunger can only be satiated by Megumi. 

“Idiot. You always go to the extremes.” You opt for saying this, instead of commenting on the fact that Megumi is very much implying that he would rather end his own life rather than take yours. 

“Do you really think I’d ever want to hurt you?” And suddenly, you realize that the two of you are no longer discussing the current matter at hand. Like with all things that involve the both of you, the root of the problem always leads back to your engagement. He was meant to be the one you married, and then he refused the Zenin name, refused most of the traditional jujutsu society, and when it came down to his freedom or you, he—

—gave you the option to choose. 

Him or comfort. Him or safety. Him or family. 

You didn’t realize it at the time, but all choices lead to him. He is the one you are most comfortable with, he is the one who would die to keep you safe, he is the one who you could see yourself creating a happy family with. As happy as a family can be in this fucked up society. 

He hurt you, but it was you who handed him the blade. You, who took his wrist and guided it straight to your heart. Just looking at him right now reopens that old wound. 

“The curse can only change you if there’s love to destroy.” You point out.

“I know.” He says. “Lucky that it didn’t get to me. It would have ended badly for the both of us.”

[changbunnies]

Danse Macabre (18+)

♡ Pairing: Rich Serial Killer!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: loosely house on haunted hill inspired, vaguely 1950s au, horror themes, dark romance, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 3.9k

♡ Summary: The handsomely wealthy Christopher Bang and his wife are holding an overnight party at the house on Haunted Hill, and the rules are simple– stay the entire night, and $100,000 is their guest's to take; but little do the guests know that their hosts don't intend to let them leave.

♡ General Warnings: this is a serial killer au! do not read if you aren't prepared to read about death + murder + blood + injury! (i personally think i kept the descriptions tame and mild but everyone has different opinions so just use ur discretion and don't interact if you think you may be bothered by anything listed !), chan is referred to as chris, reader is very complicit in his crimes, they're a sick and twisted couple i fear!

♡ Smut Warnings: hybristophilia (i.e chan being a killer turns reader on), smut begins with chan talking about killing reader (intended to be strictly roleplay because he knows it excites them, but ur free to read it as him being serious if ur freaky like that lol), heavy usage of pet names (darling, my love, princess, sweetheart, dear), dom/sub dynamics, rough and a lil mean dom!chan, big dick chan because it's hot!, hair pulling, knife kink (but without a knife actually being used), corruption kink (not in the traditional way), tiny bit of nipple play, oral (m rec), facefucking, choking (on cock :) ), dacryphilia, manhandling, mirror sex, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: welcome to the first of my late kinktober fics ! this fic is loosely inspired by the opening scenes of the 1959 house on haunted hill movie, which is why the setting is vaguely 1950s!, this is the darkest fic i've tried my hand at writing, but i'm also a very big horror fan so writing this was very fun for me even tho it's not the genre i typically write for!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Darling, the guests are arriving. You must get ready," your husband, Christopher, emphasizes as he steps into the master bedroom you'll be occupying for the evening.

You're sitting at the room's vanity, all of your hair pulled to one side as you finish drying it after your long, relaxing bath. The scent of lavender bath oil and citrus shampoo linger over you– scents brought with you from home because you absolutely refuse to use the luxurious room's complimentary soap; no offense intended to the housekeepers who provided it, of course.

You look sweet as ever in your dainty little pastel blue babydoll gown, your robe delicate and sheer, hanging down off your shoulder and bunching at your elbows. You glance at Chris through the vanity mirror as you begin to comb your hair and free it of any leftover tangles, meeting his gaze with a smile.

"What's the rush, my love? Is it not customary to be late to a party?" Chris chuckles as he steps closer, runs his hand over your shoulder and down your spine as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. "Normally I'd agree with you. But this is your party, princess. You should greet your guests."

He's right, of course– today is your birthday, and he booked the entire mansion, as well as invited all the guests, at your behest. Christopher is the old money sort– a millionaire from a long line of millionaires before him. And because of that, your party comes with a fun gimmick– survive a night in the haunted mansion, and earn an easy hundred thousand dollars.

Assuming each guest successfully lasts until dawn, that's $700,000 for your husband to pay out– but that's no worry! That's still only chump change to a man as wealthy as Chris– and besides all that, no one's going to last until morning anyways; you're certain of that.

Naturally, as having a haunted house party was your idea, the venue was your choice– and the eerie mansion that sits lonesome upon Haunted Hill was the perfect pick. You've always found it strikingly beautiful from the outside, dreamed of one day stepping inside and drinking in all its Victorian charm.

It's certainly lived up to your expectations– and you're sure Chris will buy it for you if you express to him just how much you adore it; he'd buy you the entire world if you asked him to. For now, it's good enough that he rented it out for your sinister party.

You doubt the mansion is actually haunted– you don't put much stock in the stories of ghosts and ghouls that gave this hill its nickname; but it's a fun little tale, and you don't mind playing into it for the sake of a fun time. And it certainly helps make your party's tag line of "survive the night!" more inconspicuous.

"They're all strangers, sweetheart– I don't think they'll mind if I'm a little late," you tell him with a coy little smile as you set your comb back down on the vanity, satisfied with the condition of your freshly washed hair. He returns your smile with a mischievous one of his own, an amused glint in his eye.

"And remind me, darling, why it is that we've rented this house and invited a bunch of strangers to your party," Chris says as he leans down further, his breath fanning your ear. You giggle, almost innocently– though both of you know you're more than just complicit in his endeavors; you actively fuel them, his sadistic princess.

"You know why, my love," you reply, and to anyone else your smile would seem pure, almost angelic– but Christopher knows better. He knows that his kills excite you– perhaps even more than they excite him. He grabs a fist full of your freshly tamed hair, grins at the gasp you let out when he pulls your head back.

"And this is really what you want for your birthday? To see me stick my knife into someone's neck? To have me return to this room covered head to toe in their blood?" he questions as he looms over you now, but the answer is clear as it always is. He sees the way your thighs squeeze together, sees how the desire darkens your eyes– you’re sick; but that’s what he loves most about you.

"I could kill you too, you know. Take my knife right along your skin, just like this," he says as he runs a finger over one side of your neck to the other, gentle but purposeful in demonstration. Your breath hitches as you squirm in your seat, unable to turn your eyes away from him as he tightens the grip on your hair.

"But you wouldn't," you breathe, and Chris smiles, sweet and sinister as his eyes narrow at you, just how you like it. "Are you certain, dear? Do you think me incapable?" 

"I think you love me, as I love you," you answer, eyes starting to water from the sting of his tug on your scalp. "I love that you trust me," he replies as he trails his finger down, over your collarbones and to your chest. His fingers play with the dainty lace of your gown for just a moment before he slides his hand inside, cupping your breast in his large palm.

"I bet you wouldn't even bat a lid if I touched you with my knife here," he continues as he brushes his thumb over your hardening nipple, "you'd actually like it, wouldn't you, my love? Feeling the cold steel here, knowing I could easily cut you if I wanted to?" You whine, try to nod your head though his grip prevents it– all you can do is answer with a meek "yes" instead. 

"Speak up, darling. I'm afraid I couldn't hear you," he says with an expectant look that sends a shiver down your spine. Chris indulges your every desire, gives you everything in the world you want– so in the moments like these, in which when he asks something of you, you listen.

"Yes! I'd like it!" you answer, as loud and clear as you can bring your voice to be. Chris smiles, the sweet one he always gives you when you listen to him well, with his handsome dimples on display– a stark contrast from the darkness in his gaze. He releases his grip on your hair, cups your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you, greedy and deep. 

You always manage to get him hot; all it takes is a few simple words and that sweet gaze of yours to get him worked up– always the picture perfect image of innocence, pretty smiles and soft gazes that hide the depravity lingering beneath. So coy and demure, batting your lashes and acting like you don’t know at all what he does in the dead of night, acting like it doesn’t make your stomach twist– not with fear, but with desire.

Chris always sees through your act– he knows you. But he won’t pretend he doesn’t like it– the fun little game you share, where you gasp in faux surprise when he enters the room drenched in a new victim's blood, where your voice trembles and eyes well with tears when he grabs you hard, kisses you deep as the blood coating him transfers to your skin, sharing it with you.

And your answer now– whether it’s part of the game, or you truly would like feeling his knife cutting your pristine, unsullied skin, it doesn’t matter. He meant it when he said he loves that you trust him; and he loves that you wanted this. That all you wanted for your birthday was this party– to see him at his most unleashed, to indulge in the most sinful fun you could share as a couple. 

You never say what he is out loud– don’t call him a monster, a murderer, or a killer. You always dance around it, play innocent, though it’s obvious enough that you know the truth; and that’s more than enough for Chris. In fact, he prefers it this way; he likes to pretend he’s ruining your innocence, likes to pretend he’s a corrupting influence in your pure, perfect world, likes to pretend he’s ruining you.

Maybe in a way, he is– maybe you were a good girl before you found out his secret, maybe catching him in the act changed you, and maybe he’s dragging you down to hell with him by sharing this part of his life with you. Regardless, he loves what you have together– and he’ll keep playing this dangerous game with you, even if it ends in both your demise.

You melt into his kiss, as you always do– his lips, so plump and soft, always feel so perfect when they’re pressed against yours. You open your mouth for him the moment you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and he hums pleasantly as he slips his tongue in your mouth. It’s not the most slow or sensual kiss you’ve ever shared– rather, it’s needy, passionate and urgent.

Chris smiles at you again when he pulls away, enjoying the sparkle beholden in your eyes as you stare up at him. “Open your mouth for me, darling,” he says as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You do as instructed, the obedient thing you are for him, and he grins as he sticks his thumb inside your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it after he rests it against your tongue. “Oh, my love– you already knew what to do, didn’t you? Always know just what I want, yeah?” You hum as you nod, staring up at him oh so enticing and pretty. “You’ll suck my cock just like that, won’t you?” he continues, biting his lip to suppress a laugh when you eagerly nod and hum once more.

He removes his thumb from your mouth with a pop, hurries with undoing his belt and pulling his cock out of his trousers. His cock is mesmerizing, as always– so long and thick, with pretty veins and a leaking tip; but you aren’t given any time to idly sit and admire it. He wraps your hair around his fist, forces you to take his cock in your mouth all at once.

You choke and sputter as his cock presses against the back of your throat, your nose meeting his pubic bone in a flash, the neatly trimmed hair there tickling your skin. You can’t pull your head back with his grip forcing you down– but you wouldn’t dream of trying anyways; this is what he wants, and he'll have it.

Eyes watering, you do your best to relax your jaw and throat, to suck him just the way he likes, with your tongue massaging his veins. It’s a struggle to breathe through your nose, unprepared for his cock as you were– and it’s not until your eyes are dimming and head is swimming from the lack of oxygen that he pulls you back to let you take a breath.

It’s harsh, lungs positively burning as you take deep, heaving breaths. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Was that too much for you?” he asks, but his tone lacks its usual sincerity. “Chris–” you cry his name weakly after taking another breath, a few of the stray tears lingering on your lids finally spilling over as you blink. 

“My dear,” he cuts you off, forcing his cock past your lips once more, using the leverage of his grip on your hair to once again push your head down on him, making you take his length into your mouth until you choke on it.

“You weren’t going to complain, were you? No, I know you wouldn’t do that,” he says, voice wavering ever so slightly, breathier from the pleasure your mouth gives him. “Because I give you everything you want. Everything I do is for you– so you’ll let me use you, yeah?”

He’s right again, of course– you wouldn’t dream of complaining, of depriving him of what he wants from you. And you both know this is far from the limit of what you can take, but as with everything else, he likes when you pretend for him. When you cry and weakly try to protest, half hearted utterances of “too much!” or “I can't!” as tears roll down your cheeks– an act that always leaves him throbbing.

And Chris is good to you, always puts the entire world in the palm of your hands– so just as he says, you’ll thank him by letting him use you however he wants. You can’t nod your head, and any word you try to speak would be muffled and indecipherable– so you allow your jaw to go slack to show him you understand.

“Good, just like that,” he says as you lay your tongue flat, his praise a small kindness before he really lets loose. He easily controls your pace, yanks your hair back until only the tip of his cock remains in your mouth before shoving you back down to the base of it.

You try not to gag and choke, but most attempts go unsuccessful, more tears spilling from your eyes and drool spilling from the corners of your mouth with each full press of his length in your mouth. You can’t even feel the sting on your scalp anymore– all you can focus on is trying to breathe while he uses your mouth.

But all you can breathe is Chris, and he’s unforgiving in the way he moves you on his cock. You jaw quickly begins to ache, and every low groan that he releases is drowned out by the filthy sounds your mouth and throat create as you swallow around his cock.

He doesn’t let up until your vision darkens and blurs again, your nails digging into your own thighs as you try to hold out as long as possible. You gasp when he pulls you off his cock, heart pounding in your chest as the much needed air finally returns to your lungs.

You look up at Chris as he releases his grip on your hair, eyes lidded and hazy. He’s made a real mess of you– from the way his fingers have tousled your hair, to your freshly swollen lips, to the saliva that dripped down from your mouth to your chest. It’s pretty, really– so, so pretty; he almost wants to coo at you.

Instead, he strokes your cheek, offers you a look of faux sympathy– and you’re much too addled to realize he doesn’t mean it. You take the affection regardless of his intent, close your eyes and lean into his touch. You can hear him softly laugh, can easily imagine that smirk he must have on his face right now. 

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Chris reminds you as he takes his hand away from your face. He grabs your arm, lifts you up from your chair and quickly turns you around, shoving everything resting on the vanity aside before he’s bending you over it. Your yelp of surprise is weak considering the abuse your throat just suffered, your hands lying flat as he presses you down against the hardwood. 

Your face smushes against the mirror, and how cold it is in contrast to how hot your face has become nearly makes you jolt. He shoves your panties to the side easily with his fingers, and you can hear him chuckle when you impatiently begin to squirm as he presses his cock against your dripping hole.

“Princess– stay still,” he says, and you can tell from his tone alone that it’s much more a demand than it is a request. You mutter a soft apology as you still your hips, and he waits a moment– waits to see if you’re going to move again before he acts. 

“Please,” you whine, make your desire to have his cock filling you up known, but ultimately don’t move. With a satisfied grin that you can just barely see on his face from your position against the mirror, he slowly, finally, starts to press his length inside your pussy.

He brings his hands to your hips, holds you as you begin to tremble from the feeling of his cock stretching you out. He doesn’t give you time to adjust– just squeezes your hips in his hands as he starts to fuck you from behind. “Oh, Chris– fuck,” you gasp, though it quickly becomes a moan. 

His cock feels so deep in this position, and it has your eyes rolling back with each motion of his hips into yours. “You’re so fucking wet, fuck–” he groans, his hands gripping you harder as he finds his rhythm. “Squeezing so tight– feels good, huh, princess? You like it when I fuck you like this?” 

“Yes, love it! Love you, love your cock, feels so good–” You cry, high pitched whimpers leaving you now as you try to nod your head, though its position against the mirror doesn’t make it easy. Chris groans again before he moves a hand to your hand, threads his fingers through your hair again to pull you back against him.

You reach backwards to support yourself, one of your hands clinging to his shirt while the other holds him behind the neck. “Look at yourself, darling. Look,” he says against your ear, and you focus your eyes on the mirror. You look at Chris through it first, take in the sight of the sweat dripping down his temple and the clench in his jaw as he fucks you. 

Your eyes travel down, met with the sight of your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts, threatening to spill out of your babydoll gown. Lower still, you watch as he takes his other hand off your hip, slides it past the hem of your gown to find your clit with his fingers. “Want you to watch yourself cum. Don’t stop looking,” he tells you, and you whine– it won’t be easy, but you’ll listen; you always do. 

He lets go of your hair, and is quick to wrap his arm around your body so that you don’t fall too far forward. You’re so wet that his fingers quickly become slick, and it makes his touch lack friction as they slide messily over your clit, but the feeling is still so delicious that you can’t complain. 

It’s so hard to maintain eye contact with your reflection, hard to prevent your eyes from rolling back whenever he hits your spot with his cock while playing with your clit, but you keep doing your best for him. He can feel you clenching harder as you continue to watch yourself unravel, feels your nails starting to dig into where they hold his neck.

“C’mon, love– cum for me, you can do it sweetheart,” Chris urges you, his voice soft and low in your ear. “I will! ‘m gonna– gonna cum for you!” you cry; and though you’d been doing so well, you can’t help but let your eyes roll back and close as you finally let go and gush on his cock. If it were a different day, he might scold you for not keeping your eyes open like he told you to– but it is your birthday today, so he’ll let it pass just this once. 

He pushes you back down onto the vanity as you ride out the last of your orgasm, face once again smushing against the mirror as he grabs your hands and holds them behind your back at the wrists, fucks you rough and deep as he chases his own release. You whimper and tremble, unable to escape the sensitivity you feel, or able to grip anything to ground yourself– all you can do is take it. 

“Can’t! Chris, please– I can't, t-too much, too much!” your voice warbles as you cry, the pleasure you feel overwhelming. “Yes you can,” he says as you writhe helplessly in his grasp, your fingers clenching into desperate fists where he holds them against your back. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You’re going to cum again, you know it– he doesn’t even have to touch your clit again to get you there, because the tip of his cock is kissing your spot so good that you’re seeing stars. You’re panting hard, your every breath fogging the mirror, your nails digging into your palms as Chris’ name leaves you in desperate, broken syllables. 

It’s not until you’re finished cumming around him for a second time that his pace finally begins to falter– he lets go of your wrists, squeezes your hips in his hands and thrusts once, twice more before his own high takes him. You whine as you feel his cum spurt deep inside, hot and sticky, leaving you perfectly full.

Chris takes just a moment to steady his breathing before he’s slipping out of you, hurrying to reach to the ground for the tissue box he previously knocked off the vanity. He grabs a tissue, cleans between your legs as gently as he can, though you still end up flinching just a bit.

He then readjusts your panties so they rest on you properly again, and helps you settle back into the vanity’s chair. He kisses you after tucking his softening length back in his trousers, glances in the mirror to make sure nothing else about his appearance is out of place before he has to return to your party.

“Was it good?” you ask earnestly as you look up at him, and he smiles at you, stroking your head sweetly. “Of course, my darling. You’re perfect, as always,” he tells you, and you beam, turning your head to kiss his hand before he takes it away. He glances over at the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room, laughs in disbelief when he notes the time. 

“Gosh, it’s almost midnight– we really must hurry,” he says, and you giggle, truly without a care in the world that you’ve kept your guests waiting. You turn back to vanity, pout as you take in your appearance– you were too far gone from lust to really realize just how debauched Chris made you, but now you truly see just how much you have to fix. 

“Christopher! You’ve ruined me!” you complain before looking around the floor for your comb. “Apologies, princess,” he chuckles, leaning down to pick up your comb for you once you’ve spotted it. He hands it to you, but doesn’t completely release his grip to let you take it until after you kiss him in thanks.

“Now then– I’ve got to go entertain our guests. But hurry, won’t you, darling? I wouldn’t want to start the real fun without you,” Chris says as he rests his hand on the knob of the bedroom door, and you smile as you look at him through the mirror, making quick work of fixing your hair. 

“Of course, my love. I wouldn’t miss my party for the world,” you tell him; and despite what he said, it’s not long until you hear the first shrill scream of the night. Dressed in your prettiest red dress and heels, you peek your head out of the bedroom door– and Chris stands there, knife in hand with blood speckled over his face.

“Sorry darling, didn’t have a choice,” he explains, and you giggle as you fully step out of the room, carefully stepping over the blood that decorates the floor to kiss him before shooing him away to continue. Your birthday party has fully kicked off now– and it’ll certainly be one to remember.

[easy-there-leftovers]

As Cool As I Think I Am

Summary: The 5 times Spencer tries to be cool, and the 1 time he doesn't care. 

Alternatively; Spencer never thought he was cool, but he found himself wanting to be just for you. 

[a/n] Recommended to be read after, "A Question Unasked", and is a roundabout sequel to "Mixed Messages."

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader| cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, s1e06, s1e08, s1e10, and s1e18 | description of canon-typical violence, timeframe switches because I can, and Spencer being an oblivious, lovesick idiot (can't believe this version of him survived all of this lol) | word count: 7.2k

Amazing. You had called him, “amazing” during the Arizona case and that was all that had been occupying his mind as of late. He had been called brilliant before. Been described as bright, gifted, hell, he was called a genius even. Yet that was the first time anyone had said anything positive about him.

Removed from his intellectual capabilities.

It made him think that there was more that he could offer than just his never-ending stream of knowledge and incessant rambling.

You had seen that in him.

Seen that he was 'amazing.'

But he certainly wasn’t feeling that way now.

“On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps." Spencer nodded as he listened.

"One: Front sight. Focus on the front sight, not on the target. Two: Controlled trigger press. Three: Follow through. After the shot, you come right back to the target. Now, what did you do wrong?”

He sighs with his eyes closed. “I didn't follow through.” 

“Right. You came off the target to see where you hit.”

Hotch had been observing him for the past few minutes to prepare him for his assessment tomorrow, and yet it still felt like he was making no discernable progress. 

He had memorized every trick, every form, every physics interplay that could better the ballistics of his shot and yet he still couldn't do it.

"Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely passed my last one." He had said, putting the gun down.

He feels his unit chief gently push him aside to demonstrate and he gets in position.

"Front sight," He aims his gun.

"Trigger press," He presses down on the trigger, resulting in a gunshot to the target.

"Follow through." He finally says. Keeping his eyes forward with his finger still depressing the trigger until he holsters his gun again.

"You do those three things, you'll hit your target every time." Spencer shakes his head.

He tries to replicate the steps again, but only fails miserably.

He has been doing that. He is doing that. And yet he still keeps missing.

If this wasn't part of his job, maybe he wouldn't have cared all too much about his gun proficiency. Or lack of.

And yet it was.

And it was imperative that he learned it to keep his place on the team, but he had been losing hope.

"They're going to take away my gun."

Sensing his frustration, Hotch empathizes with him.

"Profilers aren't required to carry." He groans at that.

"Yeah, but she does and she's great at it."

God, you must've thought he was pathetic.

Aaron laughs internally at that. He knows exactly who the younger one is talking about.

He had seen the way that Spencer had been watching his 'protege,' and it didn't take being a profiler to know that he was absolutely smitten. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought that Reid's frustrations stemmed from wanting to seem more experienced in front of you.

And Hotch saw no problem with that, at least for now. On the contrary, the two of you working together seemed to have bolstered his focus on the case. Making the team more efficient with their investigations.

He also thinks that it helped because you seemed to return Reid's sentiment, which is why he had brought you along to help him.

So when Spencer turns and sees you walk in, he blanches.

As much as he really liked your presence (you were friends, right?), he really didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you.

He does that more than enough on his own.

But it seemed like your mentor didn't care.

Hotch says your name with a greeting before excusing himself which tells Spencer that he had planned this from the start. He sighs at that. Chest feeling heavy at the pressure.

He sees you give him a polite smile, which he's come to recognize to be your way of easing him, and he returns it.

"I've heard about your progress." Spencer rolls his eyes at that.

"More like regress. I'm sorry that you have to be here." You snort at his joke but shake your head to assure him.

"I'm right where I want to be. "

His heart fills, even though he knows that not what you meant.

"Why don't you go ahead and show me how you fire that gun?"

He nods and waits for you to put on your ear muffs and goggles before he returns to his position. Calming himself down as he remembers Hotch's words.

Front sight, trigger press, follow through.

He fires three bullets and sees them all hit the whites of the target, which makes him sigh for the umpteenth time.

He puts the gun down and lowers his ear muffs to look at you. Seemingly deep in thought, chin resting on your hand, with eyes travelling slowly up and down his form. Observing.

Scrutinizing.

Assessing.

He can't help but feel naked under your gaze.

He always knew you were smart. The cases you've helped solve were more than proof of just that, but he knew that even you couldn't solve the mystery that was his aim.

He couldn't expect that of you. He relies on you so often already.

He briefly wonders how there's such a different between you and him. You joined the same year, joined the same unit, and worked with the same people on the same cases. How was it that you seemed calmer, cooler, and more prepared for anything more than he ever was?

Spencer firmly believes that intelligence cannot be quantified. And if anyone ever doubted him, he would just point at you and say that you had him beat everywhere despite what any number might have to say otherwise.

Case and point. you had been talking to him about something very important and thoughtful and he had been zoning out the entire time.

"I um,–– what?"

You shake your head and gesture to his gun once more. "Show me your form again."

He takes his gun hesitantly, but readies himself the same way he did earlier. The only exception being that his finger isn't on the trigger.

He hears that telltale, almost bored, 'hm' of yours before you speak again.

"Tuck your chest in."

He's read countless firearm manuals and instructions and he's never heard of that before.

"I'm sorry?"

"Tuck your chest in." You say it again, but it's still not making sense to him.

Unable to voice or even act upon his confusion, he watches as you wait with an impassive face before asking,

"Can I touch you?" He lets out a shaky, but immediate 'yes' and you move to stand beside him.

Given your calm and nonchalant demeanor, he anticipates a more impersonal touch. For lack of a better word. He expects a shove. Maybe a push, to correct him into the right place.

So when your hand comes to softly rest on his stomach, fingers splaying across the expanse of his undefined abdominal muscles, he feels his breath hitch. Upper body slightly crumpling in on himself as he does.

He's surprised he hasn't dropped his gun.

"Dr. Reid,"

He's also surprised that his heart hasn't stopped. With how you said his name, and how close you are– he can already feel your soft breath gracing his ear–

"You're an autodidact, aren't you?"

A self-taught person, he thinks.

"I–– I am." Curse his shaky voice.

"You know, there are some things that can't be learned by just reading textbooks and looking at diagrams."

He feels you tap his stomach and he suddenly feels hot.

"Feel this?" He feels you engulfing his senses, that's for sure. But he nods slowly.

"Remember it. Your center of gravity is different from the subjects in those graphics. So the form you need to take is likewise different."

And just like that, all too quick for his liking, you move away. Hand leaving him just like whatever depraved thought might've been running around his head.

He hesitantly looks back at you, and you gesture to his gun again. Noticing how your free hand is resting on the gun in your holster.

A Glock 19, he remembers.

"Go ahead and shoot like that now."

He does, in the same way that he's compelled to follow your voice like always–

Front sight, trigger press, follow through.

And fires three shots.

To his surprise, he manages to shoot the target's chest. Not quite centered, he admits, but its a vast improvement from his previous attempts.

"I– I did it." He feels the disbelief on his face when he looks at you again. He's expecting you to look just as shocked as he does. After all, you saw just how egregious his aim was. So it surprises him when he turns and is greeted instead with the small smile on your face.

Not the same polite smile that you usually give when you're at work, no. It was a soft, genuine smile, or so he thinks.

"I never doubted your capabilities, Dr. Reid."

He beams under your praise. Blooming like a flower under the warm radiance of the Sun. Once again subject to that brain-freezing sensation from a few weeks ago.

If he just remembers everything you told him today, which wasn't a lot, he theoretically should pass his firearm qualifications with no problem.

And maybe, just maybe, he'll get to see you smile at him again.

After all, he had always wanted for you to look at him. Actually look at him.

Maybe if he passes his test this time, you will.

----

The following day, he doesn’t pass his test.

And he is much more embarrassed now than he ever was before. 

He returns to the bullpen with his head down. Already expecting everyone to know of his failure.

He really didn't want to see if you were one of the ones that had been looking at him.

What he doesn't see is that you were.

But you weren't disappointed at all. You wanted nothing more than to reassure him. To tell him that you could always help him again, and that you didn't mind the extra work if it weren't for the stares that you had been getting back.

Seemingly turning your what-would've-been act of friendship and care into an expectation and responsibility.

"Make a wish!"

"Come on, man. Blow, baby, blow!"

"I thought you were full of hot air, Reid."

"They're trick candles, Spence, okay? They–– They're going to come back on every time."

While Spencer is glad that he’s spending his birthday with actual people, there's one in particular that he's missing.

He also feels sort of embarrassed that he's having a full-on birthday at his workplace. Though he is very thankful that his friends care about him enough to do this.

"Hope you like chocolate." JJ says with a laugh and he is only now recognizing the cake. Previously too caught up in blowing out the undying flames to even notice the festive dessert that supported them.

"Where's the cake from?" The blonde only gives him a look that he can't quite understand, but he is immediately distracted when he feels a draft from where Hotch passes by him.

He looks in the direction he came from and lo and behold, he found the very person he was missing.

He gets up, wanting to at least get a greeting from you, but he's interrupted by Gideon asking him something before he can even try.

"You having fun?"

He knows that he's asking him, but he can also see how his eyes aren't quite addressing him back. Instead, looking up a few inches above him.

He gives a tight lip smile when he realizes just what he's looking at.

God, he felt pathetic.

“Yes, definitely. I am definitely– having fun.” 

"Make a wish?" He asks another question and that’s when Spencer sees what he's doing now.

Ever since he first exhibited signs of interest in you, he knew that his mentor would be the first to clock them. He couldn't even hide it if he tried. If there was anyone on the team that he knew would figure it out this quick, it would've been him.

He expected it.

What he didn't expect was for Gideon to show disapproval for it.

For you.

Back during the Arizona case, he remembers how Gideon had interrupted you when you were explaining something. And that's when he realized you were going to have a hard time.

You were going to have a hard time because of his own rapidly growing interest.

Because he froze when you said one nice thing about him, then proceeded to wow him with your observational skills.

He didn't want Gideon to think that you were being a distraction to him, so he instead chose to show just how well the two of you had worked together. Even going as far as to double down and reiterate your statements to convince him of that.

And it seemed to have worked, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Can I take this hat off?"

He wanted nothing more than to do just that before you notice him, but his mentor just shook his head.

"I wouldn't."

He doesn't know it's because Gideon knew you found it cute.

By the time that he notices the elder doesn't really care about the conversation anymore, probably too distracted by the TV behind him, his gaze finally focuses on you.

The very person that he had intended to talk to.

The one he intended to talk the entire time before he got sidetracked.

You still hadn't turned to look at him though, or make an attempt to greet him. Not even a laugh to mock him for the huge, 'Happy Birthday' hat that sat on his head to make him look like a dunce!

Instead, you were staring at something. Or rather, someone.

He turns his head to look just where you were and there he sees his unit chief, your mentor, on the receiving end of your intense gaze.

Just like always.

He shakes his head and decides to just go talk to you, but he is once again interrupted. This time by Hotch with a solemn expression on his face.

“Sorry guys. Party’s over.”

You immediately spring into action at his words, completely missing his hand that was just about to come up to wave at you. He tightens his lips into a thin smile.

Spencer's starting to doubt Morgan and Elle's words.

–––––––––––––

The sentiment is rectified when he finally receives the one thing he had been looking forward to on his birthday, and it wasn't the gift.

Not even the greeting.

It was being able to be in your presence. Being able to spend time with you. The you that wasn't so stressed or strict about work, or the case, or your boss.

It was just him and you. You and him. And the scarf that seemed to warm him just as much as his heart warmed at the sight of your smiling face.

God, what he would do to have this with you forever.

Spencer is well aware that likes you.

Hell, even the rest of team knows it by now, but he's starting to fear that his unconscious mind is more aware of that than his conscious one.

Case and point, he had been having dreams.

Nightmares, actually.

Nightmares that he can't help but think will happen if he takes his eyes off of you for even a second.

Morgan had asked him earlier when he was making coffee if something was causing him to lose sleep. If you had been causing him to lose sleep, he had asked with a teasing smirk.

And while normally he would've flushed and stumbled at his implication that a night of you had been keeping him up, he admits to what's been plaguing his mind.

Naturally, he doesn't tell him the full nature of his night terrors. But his friend doesn't need him to. Not with the way that his eyes try to find yours every chance he gets, focus going in and out of the conversation like an adjusting lens.

Spencer fears that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon.

And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.

He knows that it's not rational, but he also knows that dreams are rarely, if not never, rational. Studies show that around seventy to eighty-percent of dreams contain bizarre or irrational elements. This included unusual settings, impossible scenarios, and illogical developments to be featured in the unconscious brain.

Doesn't mean that he's alright with seeing it so often, though.

What's worse is that he knows that it can very much happen during the BAU cases. And that he can't even prepare himself for that scenario.

He's practically deadweight on the field with his still erratic aim and bambi legs, he's surprised you aren't sick of him yet.

He laughs a bit at the thought. Clutching a portion of his scarf—the only thing that has been keeping the nightmares at bay— as he promises himself that he won't leave your side.

Especially not in the confounding forest of McAllister, Virginia.

Which is why he's stuck in his current position.

“Dr. Reid, I need you to check back downhill and see if the deputies have returned.” He looks at you incredulously.

“What? No! I can’t leave you here– ” 

He doesn't know what exactly you found in the abandoned house, but he knew that it wasn't wise to leave you with no one but a high schooler.

You might think he's not all that different from the kid, but he's at least trained to be an FBI agent.

“We need the rest of the sheriffs and the crime scene team here.”

You looked dead into his eyes, yet he still didn't relent. No matter how reasonable your request was.

In any other situation, he might've thought you were cool. That you were handling the situation like a natural, and that you were very responsible for taking charge when he was there with his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

But he didn't want to leave you. Not when you looked like you've just seen a ghost.

He grasped your shoulders, firmly but gently, and practically begged for you to come with him.

Stating that what you were feeling was a completely normal physiological response. That your body was sending neropinephrine to your brain to help regulate the stress and compensate for whatever was happening inside of you and that it would be safer to stay together––

But when he sees you ice him out– concealing all remaining traces of shock or fear or worry– he freezes.

His eyes raked across your features, biding his time. Committing every micro-reaction, every hair out of place, every faux-calm movement of your eyes before he had to let you go with a nod. Leaving hurriedly to find anyone that can help and constantly looking back at you to assure his consciousness that you were fine, and that you would be fine.

When he saw that the other sheriff wasn't there yet, much less anyone for that matter, he immediately went back. Running uphill fast to get to you.

To make sure that you were alright, that you were alive, and that no one was coming to hurt you.

Which is how he found himself here.

Gun held to his head by the very high schooler that, he thought, wouldn't have been of help if another dangerous person had shown up.

When you raised your hands and dropped your gun in surrender, he was scared of what would happen to you both if he didn't act quick.

But he was even more scared of what could happen to you if he doesn't talk his way out.

Fast.

So that's what he did.

––––––––––

He didn't get to check on you, he realizes.

He knew you were able to knock the kid out, he was there when he helped you distract him, but he must’ve been wheezing because he was the first one to get ushered out and checked on.

He wants to tell them to check on you. That you had landed pretty badly when the unsub was able to push you back, but he can hardly even hear his own thoughts.

The siren of the police car, the medic talking to him, the rest of the team discussing the case's outcome, and his own heart in his ears were simply too much for him.

By the time that things had settled down, he notices that you still aren't there with him. He worries and whips his head around wildly before his eyes find yours already looking at him.

Doing so with an expression of regret or grief etched onto your face.

He sighs in relief, and gives you the best smile he can give to assure you that he's okay despite having been worried sick.

He needed you to know that he was fine. That it wasn’t your fault. That he was glad you're okay too.

That he was so impressed with what you had done despite the circumstances, and that you had handled the situation way better than he knew anyone on the team ever could.

So when you seem to turn away from him, he briefly wonders if something was actually wrong.

He tries to look back on what might've happened. Wonders if there's something he didn't see when he came back, or when he was away––

And that's when he realizes something.

Could he have put you in more danger when he came back to check on you? That he had accidentally sabotaged your takedown?

He sighs. He must've looked so pathetic in front of you getting grabbed like that–– but he's not sorry.

He had been doing that for your safety and for his own peace of mind–– he wasn't going to apologize for caring about you.

He'll make it up to you somehow.

The next time you go on another case together, which you two inevitably will, he'll make it up to you.

That, he promises.

He actually doesn't get to work with you again. So he decides that he can make it up to you by narrowing down the unsub's identity.

In fact, he hasn't seen you at all since the team first arrived at the crime scene.

You had been working with Hotch and Morgan on more field operations, leaving him with Elle and Penelope doing background checks on possible suspects. And while he wasn't with you, he'd like to think that he's still enjoying the company.

Well, that's what he would like to think.

He has no problems working with Elle. She was a nice colleague that seemed to occasionally humor his rants and got the job done quickly. And Penelope was someone that the both of you really got along with. Occasionally having this back and forth unique to the three of you.

But they weren't you.

Still. What he thought about you can wait later. He still has to think about his escape route if the two break out into a fight.

Right now, the three of them had staked out one Michael Russo who they anticipated would call his hitman, the suspected Unsub. They were hoping to get a name from what they could pick up from his end of the call, and they did.

Problem was,

"Russo's got eleven associates named Vincent." Spencer raised his brows at that.

Vincent is a name of Latin origins. He shouldn't be surprised that the mob had a handful of people with that name, but it was kind of too on the nose at this point.

"Oh, make that ten. Vincent Cellito died last summer. But here's something––Vincent Sartori."

He really wants to find this guy, so he chooses to keep looking through the list. Ignoring the growing tension between the two girls.

"Currently doing six at Dannemora for racketeering."

Spencer then speaks up again, "How about this Perotta? There's not much on him."

Garcia makes quick work to pull up what seemed to be deleted records and that's where they find something interesting.

"Alcohol addiction at 14, violent outbursts, assaults,–– Once threw a Molotov cocktail at someone sitting in their car." She can't believe what she's reading.

"Several notations for aggression," He adds, but this is where he sees something truly wrong.

"He once scheduled a visit to an infirmary to gain access to a–– boy who looked at him for too long?"

He really didn't want to meet this guy.

"No fear, no remorse, quick temper. And he was smart enough to stay off the radar as an adult," Elle interprets. "Paranoid personality. Could be our guy."

And he really didn't want you to meet him either.

All the evidence is stacking up against him though, so you just might have to. He just wished that nothing bad would happen when you did.

––––––––––

While right now they weren't sure if he was the unsub, he was definitely someone who fit their profile. He saw some LEO's bring in a guy who had essentially been cuffed at every limb, accompanied by Hotch and Gideon, but he had yet to see the others.

He sees Morgan, who is walking alongside Elle (she went to see what all the commotion was about) but with who he sees next, he feels his stomach drop. Heart rate spiking in contrast to an all time high that he's practically sure he has tachycardia.

"What happened to you!?"

He got up from his seat to run over but you just shake your head.

You had come back with your clothes and hair in disarray, a bleeding nose, and a a busted lip. A complete disparity to the normally clean-cut and professional look that you had strived to maintain.

Even when you had been tackled to the ground a few cases back, the damage wasn't nearly as bad as this.

It's Derek that answers his question for him though.

"Perotta hit your girl up in the head, Reid." He chooses to ignore the joke. Too worried as he tries to check on your head but you just softly squeeze his hands to reassure him before you push them away.

Still not looking at him as you finally speak.

"It wasn't that bad. He hesitated. It could've been worse."

He doesn't like your answer.

If you had just been hit in the head and yet your nose is bleeding, that was a clear sign of a concussion. And the cut on your lip had to be from a fall. On asphalt or onto another material, it didn't matter to him since both are just as bad.

As he expresses that, you just tell him to drop it and then move away from him.

Before he can say more however, Hotch comes back into the room with his usually stern expression. A bit of worry lacing his tone, Spencer notes, as he orders you.

"Go home."

He's staring you down, but it seemed you had a lot more to say to that.

"Sir Hotchner, I would be of much more use in here. It is imperative that all available resources are focused on the retrieval of James Baker." He sighs because you're right, but that doesn't seem enough to satisfy you.

The boy-genius hates it when you use reason to get your way.

"Fine. Help Reid and the others with the evidence. We can narrow down his area of operation from there. They should be arriving soon."

You shake your head adamantly. "Sir, I can handle the interrogation--"

"No you can't!"

Spencer surprises himself with his outburst, but you don't even turn to look at him.

It's Hotch that gives him a very pointed stare though before continuing,

"Reid is right, agent. We'll handle the interrogation, so please busy yourself here." He says it with a finality that is indicative of his departure but you stop him one last time. Hand going up to rest on your mentor's collar.

He sees you gesture to your own, and Spencer hears an intention in your voice that he can't quite understand.

"Let's not give him a weapon, sir. He's pretty strong."

He sees his boss nod, and he takes off his tie. Putting the cloth into your awaiting hand, and you grip it out of instinct.

Reid zones out as he sees this interaction in disbelief. Did you normally touch the others like this?

You had completely brushed off his concern, not even looking at him. And yet when it was your unit chief that told you to do so, you had simply followed?

He thought he was starting to become an exception to you, but had he been reading the signs wrong? It could very much be a possibility as he was never good at doing so.

Even later when he had been sifting through the bags from the suspect's van, you still didn't respond to him. Even going as far as to ignoring Penelope's offer to watch the tapes they had found in Perotta's van. Shaking your head, 'no' with a faraway look in your eyes.

Just what had exactly happened while he wasn't by your side?

At this point, Spencer’s convinced that you would never like him.

If not for you having eyes on literally anyone else but him, then definitely because he had disappointed you. Desecrated the honor that came with being an FBI agent.

Just because he had been distracted.

A whirlwind of emotions had been flurrying inside him since the very beginning of this case, but he swears that he had never meant for this.

He doesn't even remember how it happened. Which baffled him, given his memory. But he thinks it's because he couldn't have cared less about the past few hours.

He had been stuck babysitting Lila only because you had told him so. Entrusted him with her because you thought that he was the best person to guard her, to comfort her.

He didn’t know it was because you had a feeling he’d be safer by her side.

And some part of him was flattered that you had said all this about him. Especially when all Lila would hear from him were endless praises of your name, of your work, and your caring nature.

But another part of him felt ignored. Pushed aside.

He doesn't know when it had happened, but Hotch had stopped pairing you together some cases ago. Saying something about you needing physical training, though he sincerely doubted that.

He thought that things were going well between you two. He had just been trying to find the perfect window where you would see him in a good enough light.

A good enough light that would make you say 'yes' to going on a date with him.

He didn't even care that the pretty blonde was interested in him. He only agreed because you stressed her safety more than any other target thus far. But the attention that she was giving him?

That was all that he wanted from you.

All he'd been wanting for months.

And when he had kissed her, all he could think about was you. How it would've felt if it was you in his arms, how you would react if it had been you that he was touching.

But then immediately after, how you would react to him kissing another girl.

God, he was pathetic.

He knew that you had been having a hard time lately. And he also knew that it had a lot to do with your work, how he did his, and his safety. That was all you ever stressed about when you were with him.

If he was safe.

You'd think he'd learn that by now, but he hasn't. Which is why even when he knew all this, his heart still ached as he sees you cry into Morgan's arms. Sobbing like no tomorrow. All because of something he did.

All because he took all your hard work, that had been focused on keeping him alive, and essentially throwing it right back at your face.

His negligence did that.

And he supposes that now, he can't do anything to get into your good graces anymore. Not when Derek Morgan seemed to better at doing his job as a federal agent, and his job as your friend.

When he finally gets changed into dry clothes and enters Lila's house, he doesn't miss the way that you turn from him. He also doesn't miss the glare the other agent was giving him. Nor the careful hand that had been rubbing up and down your arm.

Something that he wished he could've been doing instead.

––––––––––

God, he wanted to be anywhere but here, considering this is where it all went downhill.

"Did you give Lila Archer a collage?" Gideon had started the interrogation, so even if he did want to leave, he couldn't.

"What?"

"There's a photographic collage above Lila Archer's sofa. She says you gave it to her."

But the faster that they could get this done, the faster he could apologize to you.

"So? I didn't make the damn thing." Parker had laughed out, clearly not comprehending the severity of the situation.

"So you just happened to give her a work of art containing most of her life in it?" Spencer pushed but was surprised to see his ex-classmate seemingly have no recollection of the situation at all.

Something was wrong.

If it wasn't him, then who––?

"I––no, no. Look, I lied. I just wanted her to like me. I met her here, and she was a fan of art. Someone gave me the piece to give to her, but I told her it was from me."

It can't be––

"I said I found it, and I thought she'd love it."

"And who gave it to you?" Morgan had finally asked.

"Her name's Maggie Lowe. She uh––She works on Lila's show."

When Spencer hears this, he immediately goes to call you on his phone. Maggie Lowe had gone to Juilliard with Lila and was the production assistant that he swore he saw go in and out of her trailer.

If he wasn't so distracted, he would've fucking noticed that.

But his phone doesn't even ring for a few moments before the call is declined.

What the fuck was happening?

Before he could ask anyone else, he heard Derek speak up.

“Sweet girl, listen to me. We have a name, and it’s ‘Maggie Lowe.’ We’re on our wa—" Spencer tries to talk to you through Morgan's phone, but is knocked off balance when the man turns around in shock.

"Christ man—we're on our way back over there, okay? Stay put and we’ll let Hotch and JJ know.” 

"Let me talk to her!" He practically begs, but before anyone could even understand what he was saying, the call is ended from your side.

"Reid, what the hell were you trying to do?"

He's shocked at his own actions too, but that's not what's on his mind right now.

"She dropped my call but she answered yours? And since when did you start calling her that?"

He knew it wasn't fair, especially after what he had done, but just when did you and him happen?

"Since you started being a dumbass. Get over yourself, kid."

Everyone then started making their way to the two SUV's parked outside, but Spencer took the one that Morgan was driving.

He wasn't done with this conversation.

He tries to call you again, but this time, it looks like the line is busy. What was going on, where were you? He tries Lila's phone, even though he's sure she won't pick up and nothing either.

He has half a mind to ask Morgan to call you, in case you were just being petty and ignoring him, but he feels his phone vibrate. He suddenly hears his phone ring, and he hurriedly answers without checking the caller ID.

Hoping that it would be you on the other hand as he called out your name.

"Nope, sorry hon, it's me." It was Garcia's voice, but it sounded like she was shaking. Sensing the urgency in her voice, he instinctively puts his phone on speaker.

"Reid, I need you to listen to me very carefully— I've already alerted officials in the area, but your unsub? Is in Lila Archer's house."

You can't keep doing this, he thinks. You can't keep scaring him like this, because he's starting to feel so sick.

He looks to his friend in the driver's seat and sees him nod when they make eye contact. Speeding up as they thank Penelope before she ended the call.

At this point, he could care less with how pathetic he might've looked. No longer caring about how uncool you thought he was, or whatever might've been going on between you and Morgan, or if you still had a crush on your boss— none of that.

They had left you behind with Lila and no one else.

Spencer had always feared that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon. And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.

If the reason you were alone and held captive by some psychotic shooter was because he had pissed you off enough to even dismiss his help?

He might never forgive himself for it.

When they arrive, he immediately gets out of the car. Ready to run in and ambush Maggie by himself if he has to when Lila runs into his arms. Holding a gun in her hand as if it were a bomb.

A Glock 19 that he's seen you use since his first official cases on the team.

He notices Morgan, Elle, and Gideon were already out, but Hotch and JJ have still yet to arrive.

He knows that he should wait until further instructions. That there wasn't a protocol for this specific situation. Or maybe there was, but his IQ of 187 had always been slashed down to 60 whenever you were involved.

When he hears a gun fire from inside the house, he's the first one that starts running.

He's thankful that he wasn't alone when he did though.

By the time that Maggie had been apprehended, you were already well on your way to the nearest hospital. According to the clock from inside your room, and the news report that had been playing, a full twelve hours at the very least had passed since then.

You tried to remember what had happened. Tried to remember how you screamed for help once you had subdued her. How she shot you when you tackled her.

Probably with the intention to kill you, then herself had you not talked her out of it.

You groan as you feel the blooming pain in your side. Probably from the GSW that you're going to have to note in your action report.

And then you remembered how you realized what you felt for Spencer and the rest of the team.

You shake your head despondently.

When you look back on every situation where you had essentially put yourself on the line for his sake, you notice that you had really been doing that out of your own volition.

That you had been doing it because you didn't want him getting hurt.

You just didn't like that the the team was turning it into some sort of responsibility.

And sure. Maybe the others were complicit in pairing you up, or guilty for giving you odd looks, but they probably wouldn't have done that if it wasn't something you were already going to do.

God, you felt so pathetic.

You don't think you can handle looking at Spencer now. Not after your existential crisis, and certainly not after what you said before he left.

But luck has a way, so it seems, to constantly elude you.

You note this as you see the very man that you had been thinking of slowly opening the door and perking up when he sees your eyes on him.

Well, as perked up as he could be. Given the circumstances.

"How uh—, How are you? A-Are you...okay?"

You take in how he looks when he asks. Dark rings encircling his eyes, (he had been up all night waiting for you), usually neat hair in a mess (he had been running his hands through them nonstop), and shirt all crumpled from being hunched over for so long (a different one, because he just couldn't stand the vague scent on chlorine in his old one.)

Your heart sinks at the sight and you beckon him closer with your strong hand. Echoing his question.

"Are you okay, Dr. Reid?"

He lets out a shaky breath when he finally hears your soft voice again, slowly approaching you as he does. He was so worried that the last words he would hear from you would be your disappointment, but he persists.

"Can you please answer the question? I don't like it when you pretend like you're okay when you're obviously not."

His hand finds its way to trace little patterns on the back of yours. Occasionally looking up at to see if he was hurting you, before continuing when he sees that he isn't. Feeling too shy to do anything more.

You roll your eyes at the gesture. Flipping his hand to rest on the hospital bed and slipping yours on top of his. Giving it a soft squeeze.

"I could be better." You then squeeze his hand again. "Is this what you were trying to do?"

He thinks for a while, as if not really understanding your question, before nodding vigorously.

You smile at the sight but then feel your regret from a few hours ago come rushing back.

"I'm really sorry. For...everything." You don't think he knows what you're apologizing for, but you do it anyway.

If not now, when?

Spencer laughs a little at that but shakes his head. "Morgan told me about what you said. Back at Lila's. Well, more like he told everyone while we were waiting for you to wake up."

You nod. Suddenly feeling guilty for trying to make contact so you try to let go, but he only entangles your fingers once more. Intertwining them as much as he can since this is the closest that he can afford to have you right now.

He feels his lips tightening into a thin smile before he says what's been haunting him for the past few hours.

"I'm sorry that you had to deal with me for so long. I never meant to burden you like that or make your job harder."

"No, Spencer please," you start, rubbing the only part of his hand that you could reach with your thumb.

"You were never a burden. I was just—caught up in a bunch of things."

He doesn't miss how your usual eloquence evades you. Which gives him a bit of an idea as to how unscripted and vulnerable you were being with him right now.

And as much as he should hate this for you, he'd love it if you would learn to be a bit more vulnerable in front of him. Even if it was a departure from your usually starched blazers, pressed blouses, and clean-cut exterior.

He still thought you were cool just like this.

"Have I ever told you that I thought you were really cool?" You weakly snort at that.

"If by 'cool,' you mean constantly worrying about how everything could go wrong, then yeah. I'm super cool."

He shakes his head at that, but it looked like you weren't done.

"I think you looked cooler, though. Especially when you were next to the pool trying to dry your gun. You looked like a wet rat."

He groans at the mention but you continue to tease him.

"Hey, you were a handsome wet rat. Still a rat, but... you know. From Vegas. Arguably not as bad as the ones from New York. Now though, you're a handsome dry rat."

Now that, he just wines at. You weren't being fair.

How could you make him go through all this and then say that?

Did you know what kind of effect you have on him?

The two of you continue to sling back jokes at the other, a common thing you used to do before things went south. And just enjoying each other's presence.

Holding his hand as you absentmindedly started massaging it. He didn't even notice how his hand had been shaking since the moment you first held onto it.

He was so so glad you were alive. That you were still here, with him. And there's no place he would rather be than where you were.

"So. How about you start telling me what you've been up to while I've been knocked out, hm? What have you learned, genius?"

He's learned a quite a lot, while you were away.

He learned that he should probably encourage you to have more breaks. Learned that you should both talk to each other, and everyone, a bit more. And he learned that you two weren't so different after all.

He's also learned how much he really liked your smile, your laugh, your soft touch, and the way that his name fell from your lips.

He doesn't tell you any of this, however.

Opting to instead tell you about the numerous facts he's picked up during the case, and how much he hated Hollywood.

[a/n] And with that, this marks the end of this specific timeline! I've honestly loved writing with this reader's specific personality in mind, and I'm looking forward to how she'll mellow out when she learns to be more honest.

I have a few ideas for one shots regarding this specific dynamic, but if you enjoyed it as much as I did, please tell me what you thought about this short series! And if you have any idea on what you'd like to see next from these dumbasses, send an ask my way!

Thank you so much for liking them thus far.

Like my work? Consider tipping me!!

[two-white-butterflies]

★ — loss of my life | charles leclerc

Description: You're the biggest superstar in the world. You break up with your longterm boyfriend. It's lonely at the top.

Pairing: singer!reader/charles leclerc

yourname: the love of my life. ❤️ @charles_leclerc

liked by 2,391,039 others

>comments

charles_leclerc: ❤️

yournameuniverse: ok drop the album its been 3 yrs

BirdsofAFeather: OMG OMG SHE'S A SINGER, HE'S A RACECAR DRIVER IT'S A WATTPAD BOOK.

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yourname: short n' sweet is out now 🍭

this feels really surreal, i kind of had to unlearn myself and learn myself again in order to make this album. it's the one i'm most proud of thus far in my life. it's the one i hope you listen to and feel like we were hanging and confiding in each other for an hour. me and the mic were like this the whoole time 🤞🏻 i never thought i would finish it because it was really scary to close the chapter. but i closed it so you can open it! and i hope you do. i hope you love it.

rant over now please stream this shit a lot if you don't mind, it took me years to make lol.

liked by charles_leclerc and 4,698,349 others

>comments

charles_leclerc: ❤️

jaylahespy: crying real tears

ynlnnation: WE'RE LOVING IT

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charles_leclerc: Happy 7th! @yourname

liked by 231,382 others

>comments

yourname: Happy 7th lovey! ❤️🥺

charlesuniverse: THE PERFECT COUPLE

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(MONACO, 2023)

You felt like Elvis Presley. Singing in sold-out arenas and having millions of fans that would constantly stream your songs. It was exhilarating. It was a different type of high. Being famous was 100x better than narcotics, because it gave you money.

Money that afforded lazy days like this.

Both sides of your pillow remained cold. The air-conditioning was in optimal condition. Charles' warm arms were wrapped around you, caging you in his warm embrace. "What time are we gonna get up?" you asked with a chuckle, seeing that his eyes remained closed.

"Brunch," he mumbled weakly - fighting against the sleepiness. "- now let's please get back to sleep." he pleaded, his arms wrapping tighter around your waist. A small giggle escapes your mouth.

"Okay, Mr. Leclerc."

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yourname: liverpool you're the apple of my eye ❤️🥺 thank you for being such a wonderful crowd!!

liked by 2,128,192 others

>comments

YourNameWorld: I LOVE YOU PLEASE NOTICE ME

allatflipflops: LIVERPOOL!

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liked by yourname

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yournamenation: Y/N L/N sings Miss American Pie.

liked by 128,392 others

prongsmoony: Oh it's confirmed

Headoverheels: She also liked that twitter post that's speculating over their breakup...💀

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Y/N L/N and CHARLES LECLERC: ALL WE KNOW ABOUT THE BREAKUP SO FAR. by Poppy Corinthia

When Y/N L/N first began dating Formula One racer Charles Leclerc more than seven years ago, the internet was not shocked. The pair first introduced each other as childhood best-friends, both growing up in Monaco, until L/N's eventual leave to NYC.

A love story like theirs did not stay behind closed doors.

Their relationship was first confirmed by an instagram post made by Y/N L/N (which has since been deleted following her karma album) that is captioned "the love of my life" with a picture of her and Charles Leclerc kissing passionately in Turks and Caicos.

This was followed by back-to-back appearances in the racing paddock, as well as Leclerc's attendance in all of L/N's concerts. July 10, 2024 the streak of attendance has been ruined. Leclerc has also not liked any of L/N's post about her Liverpool concert. Y/N L/N also liked a twitter post speculating their breakup.

But what do you think, reader? Is the IT Couple broken up? or are they simply taking a step back on their public appearances?

>comments

valenciaschitt: Yep I think they're over

HollaParker: I refuse to believe it :(

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yourname: Edinburg, you're the one for me! 🥺 thank you for listening to 'loml' for the first time. the song will be released...an hour after this post. loml is really personal to me, but please always choose to be kind and gentle.

liked by 4,213,912 others

>comments

CharlesandY/N: "Please always choose to be kind and gentle" THIS IS DEFINITELY ABOUT CHARLES 😭

charlesuniverse: YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE

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Y/NUniverse: When I remember that Y/N got the breakup text 30mins before her show in Liverpool...

liked by 182 others

comments have been restricted.

[httpsserene]

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥 - 𝐥𝐬. 𝟏𝟖 | 𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐏𝐍𝐅 |

𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨��𝐧𝐝 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

summary: if you love her, you have to let her go. who the hell came up with that? content warning: vacation romance. profanity. a couple of suggestive lines. one line of dark humor (toaster bath). fluff and angst. sibling dynamics (bullying). friendship. hard launch (but sad). emotional support esteban ocon (shrugs). heartbreak. this might count as getting together/breaking up. pairing: lance stroll x fem!black!reader

from serene: i feel like i have to reiterate that this does have a happy ending (in the next part). i think my tags are over dramatic asl but, i’m not trying to getting jumped in my inbox for miss tagging anything. also, i know lance isn’t a “popular driver” (whatever that fuckin means) but i’m in love with this smau, and i will not be accepting any judgement xxx

⌕ prev | join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents | series toc | next ↻

instagram • ynplays • december 14th • cozy in a cabin ⚑

liked by valkyrae, yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, and 43,879 others

ynplays: falling love with canada🇨🇦🍁🏒⛸️🌨️

tagged yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, nhl

view comments

ynplays: sega cries after he walks us back to our room at night and leaves 😫

➥ user1: she’s just a liddol girl 🥹

➥ user2: the puppy has spoken u have to keep him i don’t make the rules 🤷🏿‍♀️

➥ user3: so...you have no choice but to run away with him into the sunset.

yoursister: booooo we get it you've been brainwashed by a canadian man 🙄🙄🙄

➥ ynplays: when was the last time you smiled today

➥ yoursister: it's difficult when ALL you do is yap about your crush on this hockey-core man 🤢

➥ ynplays: he gives himbo hockey player IM TELLNG YOU !!!

➥ user4: so he's canadian 😶

user5: his name starts with an L, he's approx 6'0, is brunette with brown eyes, and he's canadian with hockey player vibes👐🏻

➥ user6: i could walk two (2) steps outside of my house in ottawa and i'd run into a man who fits this description 😭😭

➥ user7: he sounds like every other bitch???

➥ user8: let's go through every minor and major hockey league roster again

➥ yourfriend1: "again?" who TF has time for that

user9: tagging THE nhl is crazy 💀

➥ user8: i'm telling you he's a hockey player

➥ user10: idk man he doesn't look like a hockey build in either of these photos🤔

igstory • yoursister uploaded!

[caption1; me and sis] [caption2; fuck. i guess they're kinda cute together 😒]

yourfriend2: did you see them doing snow angels together 🥺🥺☹️ yourfriend2: that had me smiling ngl...they're adorable yoursister: yeah, i'm just happy there's no red flags she's ignoring, he seems like a genuine dude

user11: do you improve of this lance? 6'0, brown eyes, brunette, canadian hockey player 🙂 yoursister: uhh i fear for his life,,are u gonna put a hit on him or smth yoursister: also he is not a hockey player lol user11: oh🫣 yoursister: i'm pretty sure he's like a car engineer or smth? i think i heard him say that

twitter • december 16th

instagram • ynplays • december 16th • sanctuary ⚑

liked by nhl, yoursister, yourbestie, yourmom, and 42,313 others

ynplays: i don't want to leave.

view comments

nhl: not me crying 😩 - admin

➥ user12: huh

➥ user13: nhl admin relatable

yourbestie: aw babe. enjoy your last five days here :)

➥ ynplays: i only have five days left 😟

➥ yourfriend1: oh girlie...it'll be alright

➥ yourfriend2: i always hate this part of the vacation

yoursister: please ask lance if he's willing to take you off my hands. permanently preferably.

➥ ynplays: are you familiar with the term sympathy?

➥ yoursister: oh you're sad for real

➥ yoursister: 😕 therapy session in the hot tub now ladies

➥ user14: this is depressing me

user15: hey, you can just elope? i don't think you've added that to your toolbox yet

➥ ynplays: too sad to even consider it rn

➥ ynplays: nvm he invited me to his cabin later 👅✌🏽

➥ user15: use protection 🙂‍↔️

user16: i feel like this should have a sensitive content warning

➥ user17: my day is ruined

➥ user18: and my disappointment is immeasurable

➥ user19: THERES 104 DAYS OF SUMMER VACATION🗣️🔊

➥ user20: read the room man @/user19

twitter • ynplays • december 21st

instagram • lancestroll • december 24th

liked by estebanocon, chloestroll, astonmartinf1, and 2,109,764 others

lancestroll: winter break has never felt so short. i missed you the second you stepped away from me. happy holidays, baby.

tagged ynplays

view comments

estebanocon: it’ll get better eventually mate ❤️‍🩹 believe it or not

➥ lancestroll: finding it hard to believe rn

chloestroll: come have some hot cocoa with me

➥ lancestroll: yn liked hot cocoa

➥ scottyjames31: oh mate…

➥ user21: okay, i'm concerned for my health. there's some sort of clear liquid leaking from my eyes

➥ user22: FUCK man this is sad 😕

astonmartinf1: chin up lance - admin

➥ alpinef1team: feeling for you mate - admin

➥ mercedesamgf1: sad it ended up like this for you lance - admin

➥ user23: the f1 teams are assembling like the avengers in infinity war for this

➥ user24: an unforgettable day in f1 history

yourmom: fix this. liked by lancestroll

➥ user25: w mama 🤩

➥ user26: tell him ma'am ‼️‼️

yourbestie: thank you for being good to her when you had her

➥ lancestroll: don't thank me for that.

➥ user27: cooking up my toaster bath actually

user30: well this is not the hard launch i wanted to confirm our theory.

➥ user31: brb about to create them in the sims and make them get married and have 6 children, sega, two cats and let them get old together

➥ user: realest cure for heartbreak

user28: no way they decided not being together at all is worse than being long distance

➥ yoursister: that's what i sad but nobody listens to me

➥ user28: why'd they do it???

➥ yoursister: my sister can be incredibly stupid about returned feelings. and for some reason she chose now to "protect her heart"

➥ user29: she deserves her happy ending and needs to allow herself to have it 😭😭😭

twitter • ynplays • december 25th

imessage • lance -> yn

© httpsserene 2024

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡, jack hughes

♡ ─ word count | 10.7k (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. UM?? MB?? got a bit carried away with this one sorry y'all)

♡ ─ summary | y/n had always been in love with jack since she was a kid, but he had always chosen everyone else but her.

♡ ─ warnings | kind of mark estapa x reader as well but guess who she chooses in the end??? unedited (i'll edit in the morning y'all i just wanna get this out ASAP) SOOO MUCH ANGST OML, childhood best friends trope, unrequited love (for the most part), description of sex (like two sentences u could blink and it's gone), lots of cursing, fighting (sm of it), asshole!jack, idk they may be more but i'm lazy (promise they're not bad if i'm not mentioning them rn)

♡ ─ taglist | @valluvsu (check link in navigation for taglist form if you are interested!)

♡ ─ ev's notes | WHOOOHOOO! it's finally done yayyaa, i got this done in like two days bc i was so excited. jack hughes is very much gold rush coded, pls argue with the wall if you disagree. but anyway! this is a long one, so strap in!!! so much feelings in one fic lol i'm done, but i'm actually very proud of myself. as always, i'm open to respectful critics as i love to improve my writing for you all!! anyways, pls enjoy this fucking novel LMAOO, and let me know your thoughts!!!

Jack Hughes had always been the most beautiful person you'd ever seen.

Not just physically, he'd always been one of the sweetest people you'd ever met. He genuinely cared about how you were feeling and listened attentively when you spoke. His kindness and compassion were qualities that drew you to him from the very beginning.

But it wasn't just his sweet personality that captivated you; it was the way he looked at you with those mesmerizing eyes, filled with warmth and kindness. Whenever he gazed into your eyes, it felt like he was seeing straight into your soul, understanding you in a way that no one else ever had. But never in the way that you wanted.

Every time he smiled, it lit up the room any room he was in, and your heart simultaneously. His laughter was infectious, and being around him brought a sense of joy and happiness that was unparalleled.

He'd always been the special one in the room, with his skills on the ice or his undeniable beauty. It wasn't Jack's fault that he had such an effect on people; it was simply a consequence of his charm and charisma. What sometimes made you feel inadequate was the way other girls looked at him, with admiration and longing in their eyes.

Every time you saw him with those adoring eyes gazing at another girl, it was like a dagger to your heart. What hurt most though, was the way he looked back at them. His gaze held a attraction and desire that you craved, but it was a warmth he reserved for them, not ever for you.

You couldn't fault him for it; he couldn't control where his heart led him. You watched him from a distance, silently cheering him on in his pursuits of happiness, even when it meant seeing him with someone else.

Yet, despite the pain it caused you, you couldn't help but be there for him when he needed it. Whenever he faced heartbreak or disappointment, you were the one he turned to for comfort and understanding. It was bittersweet, being the person he leaned on while secretly thinking how you could never ever hurt him the way those other girls did. Your heart ached every time he told you about his the girls, and you would listen attentively, offering advice and consolation. You wanted to be the one to mend his broken heart, to make him see that you were right there, loving him in a way no one else ever could. But you kept those feelings locked away, hidden beneath the guise of friendship.

And you knew he loved you, he truly did. He would just never love you the way you'd always wanted. You felt selfish for wanting more. He was already yours in some regard, others would dream of being that close to the Jack Hughes. You were already an important part of his life, someone he trusted and cared about. Being close to Jack Hughes in any capacity was a dream come true for most, and you felt incredibly fortunate to have him as a friend.

But deep down, you couldn't help the longing that tugged at your heartstrings. You couldn't help the desire for something more, something that went beyond friendship. It was a complex mix of emotions, and you grappled with the guilt of wanting something that might change the dynamic between you two.

It was hard seeing him repeating those mistakes over and over again, and him running back to you wishing he had someone to love him fully and truly, for who he was. You often found yourself on the verge of screaming, wanting to shout, "What about me? Don't you see what's right in front of you?!" But you remained silent, as you always did, playing the role of the understanding friend who listened without judgment.

And each time he came to you with a broken heart, you wished he could recognize the depth of your love, the unwavering support you offered, and the fact that you were right there, ready to love him fully and unconditionally. But it seemed that he was blind to your feelings, or perhaps he was simply too caught up in his own search for love to notice what was right in front of him.

It seemed everyone else saw how much you loved him, Quinn giving you sympathetic smiles and Luke giving you advice. They saw the way you looked at Jack when he wasn't watching, the way your eyes held a mixture of adoration and hurt. They noticed how you were always there for him, ready to offer a comforting word or a reassuring hug when he needed it the most. It wasn't just your words or actions that revealed your love; it was the unwavering presence you provided in his life.

And so, you continued to sit still and listen, even when every fiber of your being screamed for him to see you, to love you, and to choose you. Your love for him remained a silent, unspoken truth, buried deep within your heart as you watched him repeat his relationship mistakes, hoping that one day, he would finally realize the love that had always been right beside him.

He was always grateful for your presence and care until he wasn't. Until he started taking you for granted, choosing his shiny new friends over you.

The pain of unrequited love was compounded by the feeling of being cast aside, as if your friendship and support no longer held the same value they once did. You couldn't help but wonder if he had forgotten all the times you had been there for him, the countless moments you had shared.

It was a painful realization that the person you loved so deeply was no longer the same person who had once cherished you. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to walk away, holding onto the hope that one day he would remember the bond you had shared and the love that had always been there, waiting for him to see.

──

"Where have you been?!" Ellen, Jack's mom, exclaimed as you walked into the Hughes' lake house. She immediately walked over to you, embracing you tightly.

Over the past couple months, you had declined numerous invitations to Hughes family events over the past couple of months. You had told them that school was taking up most of your time, which was partly true. In reality, you just didn't want to see Jack.

"Just busy with school," you replied, returning her embrace warmly. Ellen Hughes had always been like a second mother to you, and her genuine concern warmed your heart.

Ellen held you at arm's length, her kind eyes studying your face. "You know, you don't have to disappear just because of school, sweetheart. You're always welcome here, no matter what."

Her words tugged at your heartstrings. You knew the Hughes family cared about you deeply, and it pained you to distance yourself from them as well. "I appreciate that, Ellen. It's just been a hectic semester, but I promise I'll make more time for you guys."

The bond between you and the Hughes family ran deep. You had known Jack and his brothers since childhood, and your connection had only grown stronger over the years. You were there for them through thick and thin, and they, in turn, had become an integral part of your life. You'd been close with the family since you were young, you'd been there for the brothers since day one.

From building sandcastles at the beach during summer vacations to sharing secrets by the campfire during family camping trips, your memories with the Hughes brothers were countless. Ellen and Jim Hughes had always treated you like one of their own, and you felt a sense of belonging that was unmatched anywhere else.

As the years passed and feelings grew more complex, you found yourself at a crossroads. You had always been there for Jack, offering your support and friendship without reservation. However, as your feelings for him had deepened, it had become increasingly challenging to hide your true feelings. You couldn't risk damaging the close-knit relationship you had with the Hughes family, especially when you knew Jack didn't share the same romantic feelings.

So, you made the difficult decision to take a step back, to create some distance in the hope that you could regain control over your heart. It wasn't an easy choice, and it meant missing out on moments with the family that had become a second home to you.

Ellen smiled, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "We've missed you, sweetheart. And I know someone else who's been missing you too."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and you couldn't help but wonder if Jack had noticed your absence more than you had expected.

"Luke! Sweetheart, look who's decided to show up!''

Oh, you've gotta be kidding me. Of course it wasn't Jack.

Your heart sank as Luke, Jack's younger brother, bounded into the room with excitement. You were confused, you loved Luke equally as Jack (you tried to convince yourself), but Luke wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic person when it came to you. Now, you knew something was up.

"Hey, you," Luke said with a warm smile, giving you a bear hug that nearly squeezed the air out of your lungs.

"Hey, Lukey," you replied, returning his hug with a raised eyebrow. Luke's behavior was unusual, and you couldn't help but wonder if something was going on.

As Luke pulled away, he scrutinized your expression. "You've been MIA for a while. School must really have you swamped."

You nodded, not trusting your voice to betray the mix of emotions you were feeling. Luke was perceptive, and you wondered if he had picked up on your recent distance.

Thankfully, Ellen chimed in, rescuing you from the awkward moment. "Well, we're just glad she's here now! Dinner will be ready soon, so you two catch up while I finish up in the kitchen."

With that, Ellen left you and Luke alone, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Luke's sudden warmth and attention meant that something was amiss in the Hughes household.

"What's up?" You cleared your throat, looking at Luke with a knowing expression.

"Well we all know why you've been really gone," Luke sighed as he glared at you. "You don't have to cut us all of just because Jack got a girlfriend."

"Jack got a girlfriend?" That felt like a dagger to the stomach. Luke's expression, once irritated, softened into one of sympathy as he nodded slowly.

"He didn't... tell you?"

You shook your head, struggling to find your voice. A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you – hurt, confusion, and the sting of betrayal. Jack hadn't confided in you about something as significant as this, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

"Who is she?" you finally managed to ask, your voice a mere whisper.

Luke hesitated, as if debating how much to reveal. "Her name's Nicole," he began cautiously. "They've been dating for a few months now. It's been pretty serious, which is probably why he didn't want to... you know, complicate things."

You listened to Luke's explanation about Jack and Nicole while a storm of emotions raged within you. The pain of knowing Jack was in a serious relationship was difficult to bear, and the fact that he hadn't told you himself only added to your hurt. You felt like an outsider in his life, someone he had pushed aside.

But then, Luke's words took an unexpected turn, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But that doesn't matter now, you have to move on and I have the perfect guy for you," he said, his tone surprisingly enthusiastic.

Oh, now everything made sense. It was clear that Luke had an ulterior motive, and you couldn't help but feel a little exasperated. "Luke, I appreciate your concern, but I don't think I'm ready for that kind of thing right now," you replied, trying to be polite even though you didn't appreciate the idea of being set up with one of his friends.

They were all fuck-boys from what you've heard. Luke would go into great detail every time you'd call him for an update. You had heard enough stories about Luke's friends to know that they were often more interested in casual relationships than anything serious.

"They were all fuck-boys from what you've told me," you said with a wry smile. Luke had a tendency to share his escapades in great detail, and you couldn't help but be amused by his candidness.

Luke chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, well, they can be a handful sometimes, but I promise this guy is different. He's actually a pretty decent guy, and I think you'd get along. Would I ever set you up for failure, Y/N?"

You raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "And what's in it for you, Luke? Why are you so invested in setting me up with your friend?"

Luke's expression shifted, and for a moment, he looked genuinely serious. "Because I hate seeing you like this, distant from the family and hurting because of Jack. I just want you to be happy."

His words touched your heart, and you couldn't help but soften a bit. Luke may have had ulterior motives, but it seemed that his concern for your well-being was genuine.

"And um, well, I have a thing for his cousin." Luke cleared his throat and you couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes.

A playful smile tugged at your lips as Luke admitted his own motives. "Ah, I see how it is. A bit of matchmaking for both of us, then?"

Luke grinned, his boyish charm on full display. "Exactly! We help each other out, and everyone's happy."

You chuckled, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie with Luke. "Alright, fine Luke. Jeez, the things I do for you."

Luke laughed, appreciating your willingness to humor him. "You're the best, Y/N. You won't regret it, I promise."

──

Dinner had been ready and Ellen decided dinner would be fun outside. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the lake, and the sound of crickets filled the air as the family gathered around a long, rustic wooden table set up on the deck, the same one they'd had a decade ago, when you were children.

You took a seat next in between Luke and Jim, Quinn across from you two and Jack nowhere to be found. Before you could ask, your question was answered.

"Where's Jack?" Ellen asked as she sat next to her husband.

"With Nicole," Luke and Quinn had mumbled in response as they both took knowing glances at you. You couldn't help but sigh, would you always be known the girl who's helplessly in love with Jack?

"Wow, you really outdid yourself, Ellen with this chicken. What did you do?" You tried to change the topic with a smile, as you ate dinner.

Ellen beamed at your compliment, clearly pleased that you appreciated her cooking. "Oh, I found it on the TikTok, it was amazing and so easy! You should start making it, it's so easy for school."

The conversation shifted towards discussing recipes and school, and you found it easier to participate in the lighthearted chatter. As the evening went on, you made an effort to focus on the present moment, enjoying the warmth of the Hughes family and pushing aside thoughts of Jack and his new relationship.

After dinner, you and Quinn helped Ellen with the dishes and you found yourself in deep conversation with them. The warmth of their company, along with the shared memories and laughter, made you realize that distancing yourself from the Hughes family wasn't the right course of action. They had been a significant part of your life for so long, and you cherished the bond you shared with them.

You were so engaged in conversation that you didn't hear footsteps that entered the kitchen.

"Hey,"

The sound of the familiar voice calling out "Hey" made your heart skip a beat. You turned around to find Jack standing there, a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. It had been a while since you'd seen him, and the mix of emotions stirred within you once more. And next to him, you assumed to be "Nicole." She looked sweet and you forced a smile at her.

"Hey," you replied, your voice friendly and polite as you acknowledged both Jack and Nicole. You couldn't help but notice the way they stood close to each other, the subtle intertwining of their fingers, and the affectionate glances they exchanged. It was a painful reminder of the gap that had grown between you and Jack.

"Hi, I'm Nicole," she introduced herself with a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you, Nicole. I'm Y/N," you replied, extending a hand for a friendly shake.

"Yeah, I know. These two don't ever stop talking about you." She laughed playfully and you felt heart start beating faster at the prospect of Jack talking about you to his girlfriend.

"Well it was mostly me─" Quinn tried to intervene before you laughed along with her, he was trying to soften the blow.

"Really? Well that's sweet," you replied with a warm smile, even though a small part of you wished Jack would stop talking about you to his girlfriend. It was a complex blend of emotions, wanting to be close to him but also wanting to distance yourself from the heartache.

Ellen smiled, "Well now that you're here, you all can finish the dishes and catch up,"

You nodded, "Okay, sure. Go relax, Ellen."

"Yep, and me." Before you could protest, Quinn left. He certainly didn't want to be there once you started "catching up." You cursed at Quinn in your head as he left the kitchen, alone with Jack and his girlfriend.

The clinking of dishes filled the kitchen as you, Jack, and Nicole worked together on the task at hand. You decided to break the silence with some light conversation.

"So, Nicole, how did you and Jack meet?" you asked, genuinely curious about their relationship.

Nicole smiled, her eyes lighting up. "We actually met at one of his hockey games. My friend had an extra ticket, and I've always been a fan of hockey, so I decided to go. I didn't know I'd end up meeting Jack Hughes in person but now, here we are!"

Jack nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it was a lucky coincidence. We hit it off right away."

"That's so sweet, right out of a book." You laughed and she nodded, blushing. You couldn't help but smile at their story, even though it felt like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be. You were genuinely happy for Jack, and yet, a part of you couldn't help but wish for a different outcome.

Nicole blushed at your comment, clearly smitten with Jack. "Yeah, it does feel a bit like a fairy tale sometimes," she admitted.

"So, Y/N, what have you been up to lately?" Jack cleared his throat, breaking the conversation away from their relationship. You both gazed at one another and you suddenly felt empty. It had never been like this between you two, he never asked what you'd been up to because he always known.

You forced a smile, your chest feeling heavy as you replied, "Oh, you know, just keeping busy with school and spending time with family." It was a vague response, deliberately leaving out the part about missing him. You didn't want to make things awkward, and you certainly didn't want to burden him with your own emotions.

Jack nodded, seemingly accepting your answer. "That's good to hear. School can be pretty demanding, I bet."

"Yeah, it keeps me on my toes," you replied, trying to keep the conversation light. It was becoming increasingly clear that the dynamic between you and Jack had changed, and it was going to take some time to adjust to this new reality.

Before he could respond, Luke came into the kitchen and he immediately looked like he regretted it. He forced a smile, "Um, is there any ice cream in the... fridge?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at Luke's somewhat awkward entrance. It was clear he was trying to give you and Jack some space, even though the tension in the room was palpable.

"Luke, you know where the ice cream is," you replied with a knowing look, amusement dancing in your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I just... thought I'd ask," Luke stammered before quickly retreating from the kitchen, leaving you, Jack, and Nicole alone once more.

As the last dish was placed in the drying rack, you couldn't help but glance at Jack, his profile highlighted by the soft kitchen light. He turned to you with a smile.

"Anyways, Trevor and Alex are coming tomorrow, you excited to see them?" Jack added with a friendly tone, trying to bridge the awkward gap that had formed during your conversation.

You nodded, appreciating the effort he was making to include you despite the new circumstances. "Yeah, it'd be nice to catch up with them. I haven't talked to 'em in a while."

All three of you exited the kitchen and you went to go find Quinn to give him a lecture. That was until you felt your phone buzz with a text message,

luke my friends are here they wanna meet u

Before you could type your answer, Luke gave you another text.

lukejack and his gf aren't here. just come 😑

You rolled your eyes at his attitude and quickly went to go find him and his friends. You quickly found them by the pool and you opened the sliding door, his friends whipped their heads to take a look at you.

"Hey, Luke," you greeted him with a smile, momentarily ignoring the curious glances. "You wanted me to meet your friends?"

"Well you said yourself you wanted to meet 'em earlier," Luke nodded and you got the memo.

You nodded and smiled, deciding to go along with Luke's plan. After all, it was a chance to distract yourself from the complicated situation with Jack and his new girlfriend. Luke's friends seemed friendly enough, and you were always open to making new acquaintances.

"I'm pretty sure you've met Ethan and Dylan before,"

You nodded politely. You had met them when you had helped him move in a few months ago and they were nice enough. "Yeah, nice to see you guys again."

"Yeah, you too." They replied in union, making you laugh.

"And this is Mark," Luke glanced knowingly at you and you instantly knew that this was the guy who had developed a crush on you.

When Luke introduced Mark, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his friends' expressions. It was clear that Mark's crush on you wasn't a well-kept secret among their group. You offered Mark a friendly smile, wanting to make him feel comfortable despite the awkwardness of the situation.

"Nice to meet you, Mark," you said, extending a hand for a handshake. "Luke's told me a lot about you guys."

Mark's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he shook your hand. "Yeah, he's talked about you too."

Luke sat back down and you took a seat next to him, right across from Mark. "Oh does he?" You teased him.

Luke, attempting to play it cool, shrugged nonchalantly. "Just mentioned how nice you are, no big deal."

Ethan and Dylan exchanged knowing glances, trying to suppress their laughter. It was evident to everyone at the table that there was more to Luke's mention than he let on.

"Nice?" You couldn't help but laugh and exchange glances with Mark, a grin on his face. He was cute, you had to admit that. He was exactly your type, he looked sweet and had a cute smile. Maybe Luke was a pretty good matchmaker, so far.

"Yeah, he told us how cool you were. And then he showed us your instagram and all of us fell in love," Ethan mentioned, quickly pausing and glancing at Mark before continuing. "Well not in love but we all thought you were pretty. Well, I mean you are but like-"

"I get it," You laughed at his nervous rambling. You took another glance at Mark and gave him a smile, his cheeks turning even redder (somehow).

The table erupted in laughter, and it was clear that everyone was having a good time. Even Mark seemed to have settled into the friendly atmosphere, and you couldn't deny the chemistry you felt with him. It was lighthearted and fun, a welcome distraction from the complicated feelings you had for Jack.

As the night wore on, you noticed that Ethan, Luke, and Dylan began to exchange glances and sharing quiet conversations. It was clear that they had some sort of plan in mind, and you couldn't help but wonder what they were up to. You decided to play along, knowing that whatever they had in store was likely meant to bring you and Mark closer and anything would help to make you forget about Jack.

"Hey, Mark, do you want to check out the lake?" you suggested, giving him a sweet smile. The lake house had always been a place of fond memories for you, and it would be a great opportunity to spend some time alone with Mark.

Mark's face lit up. "Sure, that sounds like a great idea, let's go."

You excused yourselves from the table, and as you walked towards the sliding glass door that led to the lake, you couldn't help but notice the mischievous smiles on Ethan, Luke, and Dylan's faces. They were clearly up to something, you tried to ignore their expressions.

Once outside, the two of you made your way down to the edge of the lake. The moon reflected on the calm water, casting a romantic glow.

"So, Y/N, tell me more about yourself," Mark began, his voice soft and inviting.

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth in the cool summer night air. "Well, there's not much to tell, really." You chuckled before continuing, "Just trying to finish up school and move to Europe."

Mark's eyes widened with curiosity. "Europe? That sounds amazing. What's drawing you there?"

You gazed at the shimmering reflection of the moon on the lake, lost in thought for a moment. "I don't know, these past months have been hard. And I never thought about moving out of the states but recently, I just wanna let go and start fresh, you know?"

Mark nodded, understanding what you meant. "I get that, a change of scenery can help with that feeling."

You sighed, feeling a sense of relief in opening up to Mark. "Exactly. I just want to explore new horizons, experience different cultures, and maybe find a new perspective on life."

"I've always wanted to go to France, I know it's basic but I heard they had good hot chocolate and had to try it." Mark smiled down at you and you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.

"That doesn't sound basic at all," you replied with a grin. "I would love to visit France, even if it is every person's dream."

Mark chuckled, his eyes locked onto yours. "Maybe we can both make our way to Europe someday. Who knows, our paths might cross in a cozy café in Paris."

The idea painted a vivid picture in your mind, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to indulge in the possibility. "That sounds like a dream."

A sudden breeze began to pick up and you felt yourself shiver and Mark noticed. Without saying another word, he took off his jacket and quickly wrapped it around your shoulder.

It was a cliche, you know that. But as you looked at Mark, you felt a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the jacket. His kindness and consideration made your heart skip a beat, something you hadn't experienced in a while. You smiled at him gratefully, the cool breeze forgotten as you were wrapped in his warmth.

"Thank you, Mark," you said softly, your eyes meeting his. In that moment, under the moonlight by the lake, you felt a connection that was unlike anything you had experienced in a long time.

Mark smiled back at you, his eyes holding a glint of something more. "Anytime, Y/N."

As the night wore on, your conversation with Mark flowed effortlessly, you found yourself drawn further into Mark's world, and the thought of Jack and his complicated situation faded into the background even if only for that night. In Mark's company, you were starting to feel a glimmer of hope for the fresh start you had been yearning for.

──

You awoke with the sound of laughter. Your eyes opened groggily and you felt your back scream in pain and it took a minute to realize exactly where you were.

You laid on Mark's chest, a blanket laid out on the both of you. You were on the couch and the memories of last night quickly flooded back into your head.

"Aww, Marky, you got yourself a girlfriend finally!" Ethan exclaimed as Mark tried to cover your face with the blanket, an (failed) attempt to not to wake you. They hadn't noticed you were awake.

"Ha ha ha, so funny." Mark mumbled in false amusement as he yawned.

You decided to remain quiet, pretending to still be asleep, curious to hear how Mark would handle the situation. A smile stretched your lips as you continued to eavesdrop.

"Seriously though, Mark, she's pretty," Dylan chimed in. "You two looked really cozy last night."

"Yeah, yeah," Mark replied, his tone still somewhat defensive. "We were just talking. You guys are reading too much into it."

"Sure, Mark, whatever you say," Ethan teased, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice. "Just talking, my ass."

"My clothes are still on, right?" Mark groaned quietly. "Could you guys be quiet, she's sleeping."

"Awww, Marky!" Ethan let out a booming laugh and you took that as your cue to 'wake up.'

You let out a yawn and pushed down the blanket from your face and they all quieted down. "Good... morning?"

"You have a good sleep last night?" Ethan teased and you tried to ignore the warm feeling in your cheeks as you got up from the couch. Mark frowned as you got up, feeling his body get cool.

You stretched your arms and stifled another yawn before responding to Ethan's teasing. "Yeah, it was quite comfortable here, actually."

"I bet," Ethan replied as he wiggled his eyebrows and you rolled your eyes.

"Okay, well, I'm going to brush my teeth."

"Wait, let's go eat first." Mark quickly replied, making Dylan and Ethan exchange glances.

"Before... brushing my teeth?" You smiled at that. He was cute, for sure.

"Yeah, Mark, let her go brush her teeth. Knowing what you two did-"

"Shut up," Mark groaned as you let out a chuckle. "Yeah, go brush your teeth."

You nodded and walked away from the living room, quickly ascending up the stairs and into the bathroom. The smile hadn't left your face and you felt like absolutely nothing could ruin your mood.

Well, you were wrong.

As you brushed your teeth happily, you heard the familiar noise in the next room other. The rhythmic banging, the moaning─

Oh no, you thought to yourself. You felt your stomach twist in disgust as let out an audible gag. The room next to the bathroom was Jack's and the only couple in the entire house was Jack and Nicole. You connected the dots and you suddenly felt nauseous.

You spit your paste and quickly rinsed your mouth. You needed to get out of there immediately. As you walked out of the bathroom, you bumped into one person you did not want to see.

"Oh shoot, sorry."

You looked up to see Nicole. She looked tired, her red hair messy and her neck filled with marks. They were obviously busy last night and you tried to push the visual of them having sex out of your mind as you forced a smile. "No, you're totally good."

She smiled and gave your shoulder a pat before walking to the bathroom. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and let your shoulders fall as you walked down the stairs.

You smelled hash browns in the air, your favorite, but somehow you still felt sick to your stomach. The imagery was still stuck in your head, you felt disgusting.

You made your way to the dining table and took a seat next to Quinn, crossing your arms and he immediately knew what was wrong. Your disgusted facial expression, your annoyed attitude, everything.

"They're like fucking bunnies," Quinn mumbled to you and you looked back at him with a nod. He looked tired, too. It looked like they kept him up and you were suddenly grateful you slept downstairs, even with the ache in your lower back. He put a hand on your shoulder in comfort. "Hey, if it makes you better, he lasts about a few minutes. You wouldn't want that."

His unusual teasing tone still didn't make you better, you knew Quinn was trying his best to make you feel better. You forced a smile and nodded, "Yeah. That's gross."

"What's gross?"

You turned your head to see Jack; his disheveled appearance making you gag internally, knowing what you know. You made eye contact for a few seconds before averting your gaze to the table.

"Nothing, buddy." Quinn responded with a smirk and they both exchanged a laugh. Jack then, took a seat right across from you. Now you literally couldn't move your gaze anywhere else without making it obvious.

Quinn seemed determined to keep the mood light, though, and he continued with the banter. "I heard you and Mark spent the night together last night."

There was a pause and a few awkward glances before he continued, "Um, not like that."

Jack looked directly at you and he had unreadable expression on his face. Confusion? Annoyance? Jealousy? Maybe a mix of all three.

"Well, we just-"

Before you continue you heard Ethan and Dylan's booming laughter as they entered the dining room, plates in their hands. They immediately exchanged glances as they realized who was in the room before putting sitting down with their plates.

"Your mom has food in the kitchen, if you guys... want any." Ethan tried to diffuse the tension as he smiled and looked at Dylan. "Mark's in there, Y/N."

As you got up to find Mark, you couldn't help but exchange a glance with Jack. His expression was hard to decipher – there was a mix of emotions, but it was clear that the mention of you spending the night with Mark had affected him in some way. You couldn't dwell on it for too long, though, as you headed to the kitchen to find Mark.

In the kitchen, you found Mark helping himself to some breakfast. He looked up and gave you a warm smile as you entered. "Hey, good morning."

He quickly noticed your expression and he turned to you with confusion, "Everything okay?"

You nodded, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort from the dining room. "Yeah, just... things got a bit awkward in there. Thanks for last night, by the way."

Mark chuckled, handing you a plate of food. "No problem at all. It was fun."

As you both made your way back to the dining room, you couldn't help but wonder what the day had in store for you, especially with the lingering tension between you and Jack.

You sat down next to Quinn as Mark quickly made his way to the empty seat next to you. Finally, everyone started piling into the dining room and everyone started eating.

The atmosphere in the dining room remained tense as everyone continued eating. Nicole was sitting next to Jack and noticed the slight change in him, he seemed more... moody. You tried your best to focus on your plate and engage in conversation with those around you, but it was hard with Jack's presence so close.

As the meal progressed, you felt Jack's gaze on you, a burning sensation that you couldn't ignore. Finally, after a while, Jack spoke up, his tone casual as he said, "So, Y/N, Mark seemed like a nice guy. How long have you known him?"

Mark exchanged a glance between the two of you, choosing peace and continued to eat.

His seemingly innocent question struck a nerve. You knew he was deliberately bringing up Mark to gauge your reaction, and it irritated you. Trying to maintain your composure, you replied, "Just met last night."

Jack's eyebrows raised slightly, a hint of surprise in his expression as he processed your response. It seemed your terse reply had caught him off guard. Mark continued to eat quietly, not wanting to get caught up in the tension.

After a moment of silence, Jack cleared his throat, attempting to sound nonchalant but failing to hide a hint of sarcasm. "Well, you two certainly seemed close for people who just met." Before you could respond, he continued under his breath, "Didn't know you were that easy."

Quinn kicked Jack's leg under the table and Nicole seemed distressed, too.

You bit your tongue. You clenched your fork tightly, your frustration mounting. "We were just having a conversation, Jack. Is that not allowed?"

Jack's gaze didn't waver as he replied, "Of course it is, Y/N. Just making conversation here because apparently I don't know anything about you anymore."

That really struck a move. He didn't know anything about you anymore? Jack's words hit you like a dagger to the heart. The pain and frustration were evident in his tone, and you could sense the turmoil in his emotions. It was clear that your distancing had affected him more than you had realized.

The tension at the table was palpable as everyone watched the exchange between you and Jack. Quinn cleared his throat, trying to mediate. "Guys, can we not do this right now?"

You felt yourself get more heated as you heard Ellen say something but you couldn't even comprehend it, that's how angry you were. Without thinking, you pushed your chair back and got up from the table. Your voice was strained with anger as you addressed Jack.

"Do you have no idea what it's been like for me, Jack?" You couldn't help but raise your voice, your pent-up emotions pouring out. "You just assume things and make stupid comments, but you don't know the half of it. This distance isn't just about you, it's about me trying to protect myself too."

The room was now filled with an uncomfortable silence, and it was clear that your outburst had taken everyone by surprise. Nicole placed a comforting hand on Jack's arm, silently pleading for him to let it go. Mark, too, looked uncomfortable, not wanting to be caught in the middle of this argument.

Jack's expression had shifted from surprise to a mix of anger and hurt as he absorbed your words. He clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to find the right response. Nicole's gentle touch on his arm seemed to be a calming influence, and he took a deep breath before speaking, his voice more controlled.

Ellen, sensing that the situation had become too tense, interjected again, her voice gentle but firm.

"Let's all take a step back, please? Y/N, sweetheart, maybe you could use a little breather, and we can all reconvene when things have calmed down."

You felt embarrassed as you looked around the room, all eyes seemingly on you and Jack. Feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on you, you nodded, your initial anger having dissipated into a mix of regret and awkwardness. You understood that your outburst had been uncharacteristic and uncomfortable with everyone there. With a forced smile, you mumbled an apology.

"Yeah, maybe I do need a little breather. Sorry about that, everyone." You turned away from the table and quickly exited the dining room. Outside, the fresh air greeted you, and you took a moment to collect your thoughts.

As you stood there, lost in thought, you couldn't help but wonder if there was any way to mend the growing rift between you and Jack, or if it was time to accept that things might never be the same again.

You stayed outside and spent the most of the day alone, outside in the pool trying to get a tan. The boys had all been playing pool inside and you were glad alone.

The sun beat down on you as you lounged by the pool, trying to soak in the warmth and forget about the tension from earlier. The sound of laughter from inside the house was a stark contrast to the solitude you sought outside.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The cool water of the pool offered a refreshing escape from the heat, and you decided to take a dip to cool off and clear your thoughts.

As you swam in the crystal-clear water, you couldn't help but replay the argument with Jack in your mind. It weighed heavily on your heart, and you wondered if there was a way to make amends and rebuild the bond you had once shared.

"Hey,"

You let out a yelp as you heard Mark's voice and he let out a soft laugh as he walked over to the pool, dipping his legs into the pool.

"Hey," you laughed, pushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. "Sorry, you scared me there."

Mark chuckled, the sound light and soothing. "No worries, didn't mean to sneak up on you. Just thought you could use some company."

You appreciated his gesture and nodded. "Thanks, Mark. It's been definitely been a... day."

He nodded in understanding, his gaze sympathetic. "I could tell. The argument with Jack didn't look fun."

You sighed, the weight of it all still pressing on you. "Yeah, it wasn't. Sorry about him throwing you in the middle of it, I don't know what's going on with him."

He stayed quiet as he listened and nodded. You looked at him, waiting for some kind of response. He looked like he was weighing something in his head. "Well... it seems like he's jealous."

Jealous? You blinked in surprise, not expecting Mark to say that. "Jealous? Why would he be jealous?" You knew why, but it hadn't even seemed like a possibility in your mind.

Mark had a thin-lipped smile as he continued, "I mean why else would be an absolute dick about me spending the night with you?"

You stayed quiet, you had no idea how to deal with this. Of course this would happen to you on what was supposed to be a peaceful lake-house trip.

"Can I ask you a question, Y/N? But you have to be 100% honest with me." Mark's tone seemed serious as he spoke and you felt your heart drop. "Have you and Jack ever hooked up? Or like, dated?"

"No," that was the true answer but it looked like Mark hadn't bought it. "Well, I've always liked him." It felt weird to admit that and Mark's expression looked hurt as you continued. "That's why I stopped talking to him. I realized it would never go anywhere and I was still living in my head, it would've never worked out with me and Jack."

Admitting it out loud hurt more than you expected. You would never work out with Jack, no matter how hard you wanted it to.

"You still like him?"

You weighed your options but as you looked at Mark and everything that could happen, you knew the right answer. "No."

──

"Y/N!"

You heard Trevor's excited shout and you turned around, you felt Trevor embrace you tightly. You let out a laugh as he continued hugging you tightly, it had been a couple months since you'd last seen him.

He was always just as close to you as Jack, he was your true best friend. He had been there for you when Jack wasn't.

"Trevor!" You returned his hug with equal enthusiasm, feeling a surge of warmth and happiness at the sight of your close friend.

He pulled away with a big smile on his face, "Wow, why do you actually look good?" He said with a playful flirty undertone, making you laugh.

"Don't know, maybe it's the lack of Jack." As you turned to look behind him, you locked eyes with another close friend, Alex. He smiled and walked up to you; he was definitely the calm one in the friend-group. He gave you a hug before Trevor continued.

He rolled his eyes, "You still on that? Come on, Y/N."

You chuckled at Trevor's playful teasing, realizing that his presence had indeed lifted your spirits. "I can't help it, Trev. It's like a curse or something."

Alex joined in with a gentle laugh. "Well, we're here now, so you don't have to think about Jack for a while."

With your friends around, the atmosphere lightened even further, and you felt grateful for their presence. It was a chance to forget about the tension with Jack and simply enjoy the reunion with your closest friends.

"Oh shit." Alex mumbled, "I forgot my phone in the car,"

"Oh no worries, I'll come with you," you offered, eager to catch up with Alex and have a moment away from the group.

As you both headed to the car, Alex spoke in a hushed tone, "How have you been, Y/N? I know things have been tough."

You appreciated his concern and gave him a small smile. "I've had my ups and downs, but I'm good now. I'm glad you decided to come to the lake house, I've missed you two."

Alex nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We've missed you too. And I know things have changed with Jack, but we're here to support you no matter what."

As you arrived in the hallway, you had no time to respond as you heard yelling in the garage. You and Alex exchanged confused glances as you tried to listen in.

"What, Jack?! What's the excuse now, she literally said she's liked you forever!" You heard Nicole's voice and you felt your heart drop. She heard you in the pool?

You and Alex exchanged concerned glances as you strained to hear the conversation in the garage. Nicole's voice had a tone of frustration, and it was evident that she was upset about something. The mention of your feelings for Jack made your heart race.

Jack's voice responded, his tone defensive. "Nicole, it's not that simple. Y/N and I have a complicated history, okay?"

Nicole sounded exasperated as she retorted, "Complicated history? Jack, she's moved on. Why can't you?"

Their voices grew louder, and you could feel the strain in their relationship even from a distance. It was clear that your presence had stirred up emotions and issues between them, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

As you leaned in closer to the door, it suddenly opened and you and Alex jumped.

The sudden opening of the door startled both you and Alex, and you found yourself face to face with a frustrated-looking Nicole. Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing you eavesdropping on their argument.

"Y/N..." Nicole began, her voice trailing off as he seemed at a loss for words.

You quickly glanced at Alex, who was equally taken aback by the unexpected confrontation.

"I'm so sorry, Nicole, I didn't know that you heard me and I promise you I would never, ever try anything while you were with Jack-"

She cut you off with a forced smile, "I get it. It's not your fault." She sneered at Jack before continuing. "It's not your fault Jack can't get over his childhood crush."

"Nicole, let's not do this here," Jack said, his voice tinged with frustration. He glanced at you and Alex before turning back to her. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"There is no later! I'm done." She yelled back at him, her eyebrows furrowing in utter anger. "You already made your decision, it was either me or her and we all know your choice. I won't be a second choice, Jack. I've been second to her our entire relationship and I just met her, can you imagine how I've felt?"

The raw pain in Nicole's eyes was impossible to ignore, and it was clear that she had reached her breaking point. Her outburst had laid bare the insecurities and frustrations that had been festering beneath the surface, and it left everyone in the room with a heavy sense of unease. You could see the hurt in her eyes, and it was clear that their relationship had reached a breaking point. You couldn't help but feel guilty, was it your fault?

While you knew you weren't responsible for the choices Jack had made in his relationship, it was impossible not to wonder if your presence had somehow worsened the situation. You had never intended to come between them or cause any harm.

You exchanged a glance with Alex, who looked equally uncomfortable with the situation. The unease in the room was palpable, and there were no easy answers to the complex emotions and dynamics at play.

Jack's shoulders slumped, and he looked defeated. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. It was a painful silence, and you could feel the weight of the history and emotions between Jack and Nicole.

Finally, he managed to speak, his voice soft and filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, Nicole. I never meant for any of this to happen-"

Nicole didn't respond. She simply turned and walked away, leaving Jack standing there, his face etched with a complex mix of emotions.

Jack ran a hand through his hair before he quickly pushed past you and Alex to run after Nicole. "Fuck, baby please listen!"

You and Alex exchanged looks before he sighed heavily, "Wow. What the hell did me and Trev miss."

"You have no idea," you sighed as you began walking to his car for the thing you had came in there for.

──

You sat next to Mark as you both dangled your feet in the water, everyone was outside and it finally felt like relaxing trip. It finally felt like the lake house; no drama (for the most part), cool summer air, and all your close friends in one place.

Sitting by the water with Mark, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The drama from earlier had dissipated, and you were grateful for the opportunity to unwind with your friends. The cool breeze, the soothing sounds of the lake, and the laughter of your friends created a serene atmosphere that allowed you to momentarily forget about the complexities of your relationships.

You turned to Mark and offered a genuine smile. "Thanks for being here today, Mark. It means a lot."

He returned your smile warmly. "Of course, Y/N. I'm here whenever you need someone to talk to or just hang out with."

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you found yourself leaning in closer to Mark. His presence felt comforting and reassuring. You locked eyes with him, and there was a shared understanding between you.

In that moment, you realized that Mark had become more than just a friend. He was someone who had been there for you, who had listened, and who had shown you support when you needed it, something you hadn't experienced from any partner. And perhaps, in the midst of all the chaos, you had found something unexpected: the possibility of a new beginning.

As your faces drew nearer, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that quiet, starlit moment. It was a moment of choice, a moment where you could let go of the past and embrace the future.

With a gentle, lingering touch, your lips met Mark's, and for that brief, stolen moment, it felt like the world was right where it should be.

Then it felt wrong. You pulled away and you turned your head almost instinctively and there he was. Jack, standing there, watching the scene unfold.

The shock on Jack's face was undeniable, and it was as if time had frozen in that moment. His presence shattered the tranquility that had enveloped you and Mark, leaving an awkward and tense silence in its wake.

Mark pulled away from you slowly, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. You could feel your heart racing, caught between the past and the present, between the familiarity of Jack and the newfound connection with Mark.

Jack scoffed and walked away, leaving your heart shattered; like he always did. As you began to get up, Mark gripped your arm. You looked down at him and found yourself at crossroads.

Mark or Jack? Mark or Jack? Mark: the sweetest boy with the sweetest smile, or Jack: the person you'd loved your entire life.

You knew the answer. Everyone knew the answer. You moved your arm from his grip and got up, leaving him seated in the pool. You ran after Jack and it suddenly hit you. He'll always have this power over you, his beautiful smile always had this effect on you.

It made you nauseous as you tried to find where he was, like you always did. He would always pick someone else and you always had to pick him, that was just how it worked.

You ran after Jack, your heart pounding in your chest. The familiar ache of chasing after someone who always seemed just out of reach gnawed at you. It was a pattern you had repeated countless of times, a dance of longing and rejection that you couldn't seem to break free from no matter how hard you tried.

As you searched for him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of desperation. You knew that choosing Jack meant choosing the same cycle of heartache, but it was a choice you had made so many times before. His smile, his presence, his history with you—it all had a hold on you that was impossible to shake.

Finally, you spotted him by the edge of the lake, his silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. He turned to look at you, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty, as if he couldn't believe you had chosen him once again.

You didn't say anything as you approached him. Words felt meaningless in that moment. Instead, you simply reached out and took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and with that simple gesture, you made your choice.

It might have been the same old pattern, the same old dance, but it was your choice to make, and for now, it was the one that felt right.

As you looked into his eyes, the same ones you'd adored since day one, you felt deja vu. You felt angry; how could one person have such control over you? In the depths of his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own emotions, a turbulent mix of desire, frustration, and longing. It was a maddening feeling, to be so deeply ensnared by someone who seemed to hold all the power in your relationship.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on both of you as you stood by the lake, hand in hand, the weight of your choice settling in. It was a choice that defied reason and logic, a choice that defied the very patterns you had tried to break free from. But for now, it was your choice, and you would face the consequences, whatever they may be, with Jack by your side.

You felt an unexpected sob ripple from your chest and you ripped your hand from his, covering your mouth with your hand. You closed your eyes and you felt Jack pull you closer, into his chest.

As the sobs wracked your body, you felt Jack's arms around you, offering a comforting embrace. It was a mixture of relief and hurt, the weight of your choice bearing down on you. You had chosen to follow your heart, even if it meant stepping into the same cycle of uncertainty and longing.

Jack held you tightly, his own emotions undoubtedly conflicted, but in that moment, it was a silent understanding between the two of you. The night was still, and the moon illuminated the path you had chosen, as well as the challenges that lay ahead.

"It's okay, shh. I'm... here now, I'm sorry." He mumbled as he planted a kiss on your head.

You felt such anger in your stomach as he said those words so easily. Was it okay? Was he really here, with you? Was he truly sorry. You pushed him away and you saw him fumble back, hurt in his eyes as you fell on to your knees, taking a seat on the cold sand of the lake.

The anger, the hurt, the confusion, it all swirled within you as you sat there on the cold sand, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't make sense of your emotions, and Jack's words, well-intentioned as they might have been, didn't provide the solace you needed.

Jack remained a few steps away, watching you with a pained expression, unsure of how to bridge the gap between you. The silence between you was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"Do you know..." You sniffled, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. You didn't even know where to begin. "I've spent my entire fucking life pining after you. Every single moment has been dedicated to the great Jack fucking Hughes, did you know that?"

Your bitter words felt like a dagger to the heart to the both of you. You continued, "I always choose you. I always fucking choose you!" You screamed out angrily, as Jack flinched. He'd never seen you this angry in his entire life.

"Why do I always choose you? You're like every other guy in the world." Your tears streamed down your face. "But you're special to me," you mumbled as Jack's breathing became heavy with emotion. "You always choose everyone else but me. I never knew why." You were just rambling at this point but you would be lying if you said it didn't feel good.

You looked up at Jack. "I watched you fall for people who didn't see you the way I did, who didn't know you the way I did, and I stood there, invisible, as you gave your heart to them."

Your words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of the years of unrequited love and longing.

"And then," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "when I finally thought it might be my turn to finally be with someone who actually liked me, who wanted me, I choose you again." Your voice cracked as you mentioned Mark.

You wiped away fresh tears, and the pain in your eyes was palpable. "It hurts, Jack. It hurt more than I can put into words. But I still chose you, again."

A sob caught in your throat, and you continued, your words heavy with emotion. "I've cried myself to sleep, wondering why I wasn't good enough for you, why you never saw me the way I saw you. And every time you got hurt, I was right there with you, helping and being there." You paused. "And when I was hurt, where the fuck were you? Probably with some girl who never knew you like I did. Who will never know you like I do."

Jack's eyes were filled with remorse, and you could see the pain in his expression, but you couldn't stop now. You had to let it all out.

"I convinced myself that if I just kept waiting, if I just kept choosing you, someday you'd see me for who I was, you'd choose me. But it never happened, Jack. It never happened, and it broke my heart a little more every day."

Your voice broke again as you sniffled, "I've missed out on so much because of you," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "I've given up on amazing opportunities, on people who genuinely cared about me, all because I thought someday you'd choose me too."

Jack took a seat beside you, the weight of your words sinking in. You didn't fight it, you were too tired.

The lake's gentle waves lapped against the shore, providing a soothing backdrop to the turmoil of emotions swirling around both of you. He didn't say anything for a while, the silence between you heavy with unspoken regret.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft and filled with remorse. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to... hurt you."

You turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his. You saw the sincerity in his gaze, but it was accompanied by a sense of helplessness. It was as if he had finally realized the depth of the pain he had caused you.

"I couldn't like you, Y/N." It sounded harsher than it actually was as he continued. "I just couldn't. You were too good, Y/N, you are a sweetheart. I was scared to taint you, and I would've never forgiven myself if I did..."

"Taint me?" You scoffed, pain in your tone. "You tainted me the moment you met me, Jack."

Those words hung in the air as he swallowed, taking your words into consideration. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted any of this."

You sighed, the anger and frustration slowly giving way to a sense of resignation. It was a complicated situation, and both of you had made mistakes along the way. "I know, Jack. I know you didn't."

In that moment, you both shared a painful understanding of the past and the choices that had brought you to this point. You would always choose him, and he'd always choose them. But as he put his hand on top of yours, your body entire body felt like it was on fire.

As you looked into Jack's eyes, you saw a mixture of emotions - regret, longing, and a hint of hope. It was as if he, too, was wrestling with the undeniable connection that had always existed between you.

"I'm not saying it'll be easy, Y/N," he murmured, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. "But maybe... just maybe, we can find a way to make this work."

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to entertain the possibility of a future with Jack, a future where you didn't have to choose between him and anyone else.

Maybe all of that pining wasn't for nothing. Maybe in the end, he would have chosen you. But would you choose him? Could you finally resist him?

As you sat there, the gentle breeze ruffling your hair and the quiet waters of the lake before you, you contemplated Jack's words. The years of pining and longing, the heartaches and frustrations, all seemed to converge in this one moment.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the moment where the tides would turn, and you could choose a different path, one that didn't revolve around Jack. But the choice was yours to make, and it wouldn't be easy. You knew the allure of Jack, the history you shared, and the magnetic pull between you two would always be there.

For now, you decided to savor the night, knowing that the future held uncertainties and challenges, but also the potential for something beautiful. As you gazed at the moonlit lake, you couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead and what choices you would make when the time came.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

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

[dinogoofymutated]

THAT POST ABOUT CLEANING IN THE FLOWY DRESS? THINKIN ABOUT HANK? HNNNGGG PLEASE I BEG OF YOU

NSFW!Beast/AFAB!reader. - NSFW HCs! I was already on it when I got this ask heehee. These hcs were originally suppost to be part of another NSFW request I got for him but I was thinking about this too hard and comepletely forgot the actual theme of the req! So I decided to save it for later and just post it under your ask lol Anyway I need him my god. I was writing this while picturing watxm Hank but I'm pretty sure it works for any version. TWS: MDNI!!! smut under the cut. PNV smut. Eating out/head. Cum descriptions. Reader written with Fem in mind and also wearing a dress is mentioned, but overall no pronouns used. Creampie. Getting caught after the fact but not during the deed.

Okay, We all know that Logan has incredible stamina, and there's quite a few mutants that you would just expect that from anyway, but I'm 100% sure the one person that a good bit of people would NEVER expect to have insane stamina in bed is Hank. Like yeah he's nerdy, but dude straight up went to college on a SPORTS scholarship on top of his academic ones.

There is no fucking way this man has anything other than the most insane stamina. Dude is the perfect package of nerdy genius and athletic perfection. Can you imagine how long he could go on for in bed?? While you're sweaty and absolutely exhausted he's having the time of his life. Sure he's sweaty to but he's still. fucking. going?? It's like you'd been having sex for three minutes instead of four hours. He obviously gives you breaks and takes care of you, keeping you hydrated and such- but every time he begs you for "just one more". He's so gentle when he's gathering up your limp body and he's kissing your temples and forehead and massaging your tender spots, but he's a scientist at heart. He wants to know how far the two of you can really go, and he wants to know BAD.

I saw in a post somewhere on tumblr that he mentions that the one thing he doesn't have control of is his libido or something like that? It was from a comic snapshot so obviously this isn't even a hc it's fully cannon I don't make the rules.

THE FUCKING PHEROMONE THING!! For those of you who don't know, Hank was confirmed to have some minor Pheromone manipulation abilities. Like oh my god?? I definitely think that he will use it in sweet ways where he just wants some cuddles without asking you for them, but I feel like when he's hot and heated he just subtly does it without even knowing. Like he's super pent up one way and for some reason every time you greet him or pass him by you just start having more and more inappropriate thoughts about him. He'd feel so guilty if he catches himself doing it but at the end of the day, you don't really mind. Don't think too hard you beautiful big guy, can we just fuck already??

He will absolutely use his strength to hold you in any position possible. As long as you're both comfortable with it no position or hold is off the table for him. I don't think he'd be into BDSM or anything that has to do with hurting you, but I do think he's the type to read through the kamasutra and want to try all the positions to find the one you both enjoy the most.

He will fuck in the lab. He might do a whole "Oh my! Not in here, dear ;)" But most of the time he's instigating it! Sure he makes sure to lock the doors and everything but he's not shy when he has you splayed across his work tables, bent over you as he gently kisses and brushes his fangs over your skin. He likes how flustered it makes you.

He also cums A LOT. Like a lot a lot. He's most certainly got the heaviest balls you've ever seen, and they're not just for show. Every time he cums inside he causes you to practically overflow, and he's usually still cumming when he finally pulls out of you as well. He's a little embarrassed about it, and will clean you up very well because of that. He doesn't want you to deal with the sticky feeling of it drying on your skin, especially not if you have sensitive skin/texture issues. He is defiantly down to eat his one cum out of you though ;)

also, I think that he has a thing for long flowy dresses. I know there's a ton of dudes who say they like them bc of "easy access", and I know for a fact that Hank would find that sort of mindset disgusting. He just loves how beautiful and feminine you look in them, and also just happens to really enjoy the feeling of the fabric against his arms as he hitches up your skirt, his hands trailing up your thighs. As depraved as it might be, he also likes giving you head underneath your long skirts. He'd be apologising for being so ravenous and thanking you for letting him have you in such in intimate manner, all while giving you the most earth-shattering head. He's just so sweet about everything in the bedroom I swear.

    You swear you didn’t fully expect to be in this exact situation when you were getting dressed this morning. Sure, you knew exactly how much Hank loved to see you in sundresses and were definitely going for a certain reaction out of him, but you never would have expected to be pinned against the wall of his lab, his large hands cupping your ass and thighs as he holds you suspended whilst using the wall as leverage. His thick cock is pumping in and out of you at a quick, needy pace. He goes back and forth from biting his lips and letting his moans and groans ring out and echo in the cluttered space. You’d never done this position before, although you certainly knew that Hank had more than enough strength to pull it off. Still, you were sure that the image of him fucking you, hands beneath your long skirt as it bunches at your hips and drapes down below you, was certainly a sight to behold.

    “Ah- Please, let me know if this is uncomfortable in any way- nhg… I’m sure your anatomy is taking me quite… deeply, in this position.” Hank grunts, his thrusts deep and steadily paced in a manner in which he knows you like best. You smile at him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as your hands clench and unclench on his shoulders every time his thrusts catch you Just right.

    “Is that what you’re calling it now? “Studying” my anatomy?” You muse. You wonder if he had noticed you catching on to the glances and stares he does when he thinks you’re not paying attention. You purposely poke your chest out as you mention it, and Hank huffs in amusement before he buries his face into your semi-exposed cleavage,  licking and sucking as he shifts your weight onto one hand as the other takes hold of your cheek. He puckers your lips, nipping at the top of your breast before he pries himself away, sending you a smug smile as he leans in teasingly close.

    “You know, I really think we could be using that quick tongue of yours for something a little more useful than backtalk.” Hank chuckles. He kisses you in a way that leaves you breathless, still holding you effortlessly even with a single hand as he keeps up his thrusts. His free hand drifts down to your clit as your walls begin to flutter and clench around him, a sign that he knows means you’re approaching your peak and fast. His kisses match the intensity of his hips as he closes in on his own pleasure. You cum barely a second before he does, his cum warming your insides as he cums, and cums and cums. He overflows your cunt quickly, and it drips down your legs when he pulls out. Hank makes sure to help you keep your balance when he sets you down, your legs shaking from your orgasm but also a bit numb from the position he had you in. He kisses you gently as you recover from your high, doing so over and over again all across your skin. The gentle touches make you giggle a bit. 

    “Had a feeling that we would end up like this today. Maybe I should wear dresses like this more often.” You hum. Hank chuckles deeply before drawing you into another sensual kiss, his hands stroking up and down your now-clothed body in a loving way.

    “I wouldn’t mind testing that theory.” He says when he separates from the kiss. You shake your head at him, laughing a bit more as you cup his face with love.

    “Of course you wouldn’t.” You say sweetly. Hank is smiling at you, his hands beginning to wander again right before the two of you hear a mortifying swish of the doors. Hank quickly tucks himself back inside his pants before the two of you instinctively turn to face the door where Logan is standing with a bit of a confused look on his face.

    “Logan! We were just-”

    “Hey, Logan! Nothing to see here!” Both of you are scrambling to fix the situation, utterly and spectacularly failing as Logan takes one sniff of the air and then smirks.

    “I’m all for a bit of risk, but at least lock the door, lovebirds.” Logan gives the two of you a sardonic wave before marching straight back out the door. Leaving both you and Hank more than a little mortified. As embarrassing as it was, you can’t help but begin to laugh, Hank joining you as you shake off the adrenaline of technically being caught red-handed.

    “Let’s go wash off before we have any other unexpected visitors,” Hank suggests. You agree wholeheartedly, your laughter picking up once again as he lifts you off the ground in a bridal hold to head to the showers.

[killerkillerkillher]

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

hc for adrian having a girlfriend or s/o prior to his mother's death. they're human and maybe her apprentince or something. and the church takes her too, but before they can burn her at the stake, dracula shows up and rescues her because he knows lisa was fond of her. during adrians and draculas fight maybe she interbenes at a critical moments so drac doesnt kill him and alucard gets away but she's now a prisoner of dracula w/n his castle. and maybe she befriends the generals?

A/N: Aw, man. Sometimes I wonder if Lisa did have an apprentice, that maybe Dracula wouldn’t be as anti-human as he ended up being, or if she could start to turn him to see the error of his ways sometime before Alucard and Dracula end up in Adrian’s childhood bedroom. 

Apologies for the delays in updates. But my brain went WILD with this request so it’s a long one, I hope that makes up for the less frequent posting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these somewhat bittersweet (then depressing then bittersweet again) headcanons! (Also this is unbeta-ed and prob grammatically messy as hell, so read at your own expense lol.) 

Word Count: 6.2k 

TW: Canon Typical Descriptions of Graphic Violence; Brief Mentions of Sexual Violence; Canon Death; Descriptions of Torture (the church is high-key fucked up here)  

Adrian W/ A Human S/O Reader (Who’s Also Lisa’s Apprentice, Prior to Her Death):   

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━   

The Beginning:   

Okay, so let’s get one thing straight… FIRST OF ALL, Lisa would adore you!!! Like, you make her baby boy happy and you’re smart??? What else is there to it? And then to top it all off, you’re super sweet and kind and interested in learning about medicine and the world around you!   

Lisa meets you once over dinner and she’s already planning the wedding in her head.   

Adrian is smitten, because of course he is, but in an adorable, somewhat restrained way. He doesn't have a lot (ahem, ANY) experience in this department, so he’s hesitant to take things forward with you, mainly because he doesn’t want to scare you off or make you suspicious about what he is. (It’s hard to make out with someone when you have two big vampire fangs in the front.)   

Adrian is young, like you. So, on top of all the complications, he feels no need to rush things. Sure, he’s heard a few whispers here and there about Dracula having a son, a son who according to rumors and gossiping villagers is to rise as the antithesis of Dracula. It’s all silly superstition, but it does stay fixed in the back of his mind. What would this future legacy mean for his relationship with you? And, should it ever come to pass, would you even be a part of it?   

That’s neither here nor there though, and in the meantime, the two of you simply enjoy the talking phase. You get to learn more about each other's interests, and beliefs, but mostly, you spend time in proximity to one another— you remain busy attending to his mother, learning all you can about healing while he, just a table over, spends his time rereading one of his many favorite tomes.   

I honestly don’t see you meeting Dracula until you and Adrian are like a fully committed couple. I’m pretty sure you would have to have been Lisa’s apprentice for a while and/or lived with the Tepes in their Lupu cottage for months before Lisa finally breaks through Dracula’s protests and makes him officially meet you.   

I don’t think that meeting would happen in Lupu either. No, I imagine it would have to take place at Dracula’s castle, just in case you were to freak out, you’d have no way of escaping and telling any others.   

I can almost see your reaction being similar to Lisa’s upon first entering the castle, especially if Adrian is already at your side. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Dracula is terrifying, but there’s also a giant telescope in the next room calling your name so….   

Much to Adrian’s relief, this newfound information doesn’t make you frightened of him at all, if anything, it simply reignites your fascination with him. You throw rapid-fire questions at him: If he's part vampire, how come you’ve seen him eating human food? Does he need both food and blood to satisfy each of his halves? If he needs blood, he could take some of yours you know…   

Your penchant for learning softens Dracula a little. For a brief time, he wonders if, perhaps, it was as Lisa said, that the humans could change, that humanity was changing for the better.   

He sits across from you at their grand dinner table, watching you intensely as you and Adrian talk about the recent literature you’ve read. You’d no doubt feel Dracula’s all-powerful gaze on you, making you turn to him and… Wait, did you just smile?!   

You’ve got guts, Dracula will give you that.   

Knowing the family secret, you can’t exactly break up with Adrian, nor do you have any desire to. I wonder if Dracula would have rings made for the two of you, maybe commission a new family portrait or two.   

You stay with Lisa in Lupu during Dracula's travels. Adrian is around, although he's always off between the castle and their cottage, so you never feel entirely alone or vulnerable. Your life is perfect! It’s better than you could have ever imagined!   

That is, until…   

━━━━━ ● ━━━━━   

The During:   

When the Church comes to take Lisa, you beg them to see reason. You cry and scream, hell, you even try to fight your way out at one point, only for both you and Dr. Tepes to be overpowered by the Church’s henchman.   

The two of you are taken, violently, to Targoviste, where you’re thrown into dark, damp cells with little to no light. Freezing, you huddle together for warmth, each trying your best to reassure the other, that all will turn out well. Adrian was still around, right? He’ll have to come home to find you missing, he’ll come and rescue you. And Dracula was due to return soon, correct? Surely, they’ll come. Surely, they’ll stop this madness.   

It’s a few days later, after hours of interrogation and brutal torture that you realize with a heavy heart, that no one is coming to rescue you. And what’s worse, that these so-called men of the cloth cannot and will not listen to reason. You’re starved and beaten, your hair is sliced off so close to your skin, that they take bits of your scalp with it in some places. And despite initially being imprisoned with Lisa, you find yourself being separated from her for longer periods.   

The men try everything to get you to turn on her. They tell you if you recant her wicked ways now, say she used her evil magic to trick you, your sentencing will be easier. You could still live— they dangle betrayal in front of you as a last lifeline. You don’t take it of course. You love Mrs. Tepes, and you know she’s no witch. You muster what little might you have left, spitting at the men as you tell them to go to hell. You swear she’s innocent, that she knows nothing. Hell, at one point, you find yourself confessing to having manipulated her! You don’t think they buy it though, if the poor doctor’s screams from down the hall are anything to go by.   

The night they light the pyre, the night of Lisa’s murder, you’re sick on more than one occasion. You scream your throat raw, begging them to burn you first! That she was innocent! That you corrupted her! That it was all your doing! But to no avail.   

In a scene that could only rival the Crucifixion of Christ himself, you look up through tear-soaked eyes to see Lisa, enshrouded in flames, begging Dracula to show mercy on her killers, to forgive them, that they know not what they do. “I know it's not your fault,” she cries out, “But, if you can hear me, they don't know what they're doing! Be better than them. Please!”   

You sob and wail, watching as your would-be mother-in-law is burned alive. You scream out for someone, anyone! To please help you, save you! With Lisa’s last words echoing in your mind, you can’t help but fear Adrian’s and his Father’s reactions, should they find you both killed.

Oh, gods…   

You don’t know what makes you feel sicker… The barbaric display you’re witnessing now or the hypothetical one that threatens to wipe out all living people in Wallachia once Dracula learns of what’s happened. You need not wait long for an answer.   

In a fury of fire and grandeur, Dracula’s head appears, molded in flame, demanding to know what has happened to his wife. You cry out to him, apologizing profusely, saying you begged them to burn you first! You scream out how they refused to see reason, they killed her for helping! Injudiciously, in your indignant anger, you plead with Dracula to release his fury on the priests who did this, to send them to hell to be tortured for eternity for this unforgivable transgression!   

With the silent fury of a gathering storm, Dracula’s fiery visage speaks calmly as his anger grows concertedly less. "I give you one year Wallachians,” he finally decides. “You have one year to make your peace and remove any marks you have made upon the land. One year, and I'll wipe all human life from the land of Wallachia. You took that which I love, so I will take from you everything you have and everything you have ever been. One year."   

No sooner than he spits out the words, a coil of fire bursts from his image, winding itself around your body. The guards surrounding you gasp and flee, avoiding the coil’s tail as it whips back and forth, hoisting you into the air.   

The fiery coil burns your skin, and the smell of even more burnt flesh makes you gag. If you had any bile left over at all, you’re certain it’d come up yet again. The pain is like a thousand stinging nettles and boiling water constricting your arms and midriff all at once. Your vision grows blurry as you feel your body move through the air, your nostrils taking in one last wretched breath of sulfur and smoke.   

━━━━━ ◉ ━━━━━   

The After — Part One:   

When you awake you find yourself laid, practically bare, a heap on the floor within Dracula’s castle— the evil Lord himself only feet away, raging over his magic well— as shards of his magic mirror whip around him at incredible speeds. Your head is pounding, it feels as if it might explode, and your arms… Fuck.   

Where the supernatural coil grabbed you, your skin was red and raw, small pockets of blisters already beginning to form. Your arms tremble uncontrollably as you try to move them, the pain that’s consuming your nerves is far too intense to hold them steady as you sit up into an upright position.   

It doesn’t feel real; nothing feels real. It feels like a nightmare. It had all been perfect, everything was perfect— you all were happy! How did it turn into such horror so fast?   

Shakily, you rise to your feet and clutch the remains of your clothes to your chest in an attempt to preserve your modesty, although it’s more of a subconscious act on your part. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, yourself included. It’s like the air is heavier here somehow, its weight filling your lungs and weighing you down.   

A loud noise shocks you back to the present, nearly making you stumble over in fright. At least you would have, had Adrian not used his superspeed to catch you before you fell. One of his gloved hands grasps your left arm directly over the burn, causing you to let out a hiss. His rectangular eyes look wider than you’ve ever seen as he releases his grip, looking over your battered form.   

“(Y/N) ...” Adrian says, his voice serious and quiet, barely a whisper.   

You shake your head furiously, unable to trust your ability to speak without breaking. Upon Adrian’s gentle insistence, you feel your mouth opening, and the words slipping out, scraping against the back of your reddened throat as they exit your frail body.   

“They killed her, Adrian…” you whisper, your voice quivering. “I, we tried to stop them, they just wouldn’t listen!” Somehow, your eyes begin to water again, despite your earlier certainty that your body had no water nor tears left in it at all.   

“Once she realized they wouldn't listen to reason, she lied and told them I was innocent. She told them she had manipulated me, that I was just a child, that I didn’t know what I was doing, that she never got the chance to teach me!” A feeling of guilt consumes you as you speak the words aloud, and soon enough, your body is once again plagued by uncontrollable sobs.   

Adrian listens intently to your words, his brows furrowed. You watch through teary eyes as a range of emotions flash across his face: anger, hurt, pain, sorrow, and finally… acceptance. Your beloved hardens his gaze, choking down whatever grief he may be feeling. At the present, Adrian knows, there are more pressing matters at hand.   

You follow Adrian’s steely gaze back, seeing his Father where he is bent over his summoning circle, cursing in a language that is foreign to you before he switches back to Romanian.   

“One year! It will take me one year to summon an army from the guts of Hell itself!” Dracula proclaims, promising to enact vengeance for the death of his love.   

“No.” Adrian counters, slipping out of your grasp.   

“Adrian,” you whisper, warningly. “Don’t—”   

“What do you mean, ‘no’? That woman was the only reason on Earth for me to tolerate human life!”  Dracula retaliates, enraged his son could even conceive of such lenience.   

“Then find the one who did the deed,” Alucard proposes. “If you set loose an army of the night on Wallachia, you cannot undo it, and many thousands of people just as innocent as her will suffer and die.”   

“There are no innocents! Not anymore! Any one of them could have stood up and said, ‘No, we won't behave like animals anymore.’"   

“(Y/N) did.” Adrian points out. “She tried to take all the blame, in an attempt to save Mother’s life.”   

Dracula looks over at you with blood-red eyes, contempt clear on his face. “And yet,” he snarls, “Here she stands, and my Wife, your Mother does not!” He hisses the last word, livid that out of the two of you, you were the one who survived.   

With large, fearful eyes, you watch as Adrian closes the gap between him and his Father.   

“I won't let you do it. I grieve with you, but I won't let you commit genocide.”   

“Adrian,” you warn again.   

The next bit happened all so quickly.   

Faster than you could blink, you watch, helpless, frozen in horror as Adrian charges his father, his longsword drawn. Despite their vampiric speed being unrecognizable to the untrained human eye, you swear you watch the scene unfold in slow motion. Adrian charges first, but Dracula, roaring in a fit of rage, counters faster— his Father’s elongated claws slash diagonally across Adrian’s chest, before his fist pauses, still embedded deep within your lover’s gut.   

You don’t have time to think before you act. To you, Adrian has the abilities of a god, but to his Father… It was clear there’d be no match. You have no clue how you got your hands on it, no idea as to how you even managed a successful hit, but the next thing you know, a triangular shard of magic mirror is impaled in Great Lord Dracula’s back, put there by your very hand.   

Too terrified to even breathe, the only sound you can hear beyond your racing pulse is a wet, gory squelch as Dracula retracts his claws from Adrian’s body. You hear the spray of blood before you see it, a rush of bright red blood gushes onto the marble floor between Dracula and his son.   

Standing at his impressive full height, Dracula turns ever so slowly, ever so menacingly, to face you. His pupils are that of a blood moon, his sclera so bloodshot they practically look as black as night. In that second, you know you’ve fucked up.   

You cower as Dracula raises one hand to you, instinctively shielding your neck from his nasty bloodied talons. With surprisingly repressed strength, Dracula backhands you, the force sending you flying backward, smashing into the base of one of the curved bookshelves lining the walls of his summoning room.   

With his focus still on you, Dracula stalks toward you. Knowing it’s now or never, you scream at Adrian to flee. “Run!” The words rip out of your raw throat, sounding like an eleventh commandment.   

You see Adrian, previously stunned by his Father’s disregard for his life, holding together the gaping wound across his chest. He has no time to even spare you, his beloved, a last look before evaporating into clouds, his cloud of bloodied mist bolting for the door, fleeing as fast as his injured state would allow him.   

Dracula only turns to watch as his son, his very possibly fatally wounded son, flees the confines of his castle. For a moment it is silent— only the sound of both yours and Dracula’s heaving breaths echo across the chamber.   

Clenching his clawed fingers into a fist, Dracula says nothing as he too makes his way to the castle doors, leaving your bruised and broken body alone in the dark.   

━━━━━ ❍ ━━━━━   

The After — Part Two:   

Somehow, Christ only knows, you find your way to one of Lisa’s old labs and do a half-assed job of patching yourself up. You find your burns and dislocated shoulder to be the most painful of injuries.    

Thankfully, Lisa had taught you enough about setting a patient’s shoulder that you managed to smash it into an adjacent wall, popping your joint back in yourself. The burns you wrap in honey and milk-soaked linen gauze, wincing every time the bandages brush against your skin. It’s awful work, slow work too, but you must have managed it alright because you find yourself patched up and passed out in one of the castle’s kitchens a few hours (or days? had it been days?) after that.   

You eat raw vegetables and berries— nothing that requires cooking. Lord knows you couldn't prepare anything successfully now even if you were to try. Eating your foraged meal in silence you debate your next steps. Do you go back home? Would your family even welcome you home after your long and unexplained absence? And if they, along with all the humans in Wallachia were ultimately to be driven from the land, did it matter anyway?   

‘Oh god,’ you think. You have to warn them, have to make them flee before a year is up. But where would you go? Where could you go? Greater Styria was a possibility, although it was not by any means an easy journey, and the climate there was much colder than your folks were used to here. You shakily rise to your feet and set out to find a map within one of the Castle’s many libraries.   

After a good night’s rest, you find your mindset with a newfound determination: you will go home. You were going to get your family on the move and then… Then, you’d come back here.   

You knew, in all likelihood, that returning to Dracula’s castle after the fact entailed certain death. But you also knew, things would get worse if he were to be left alone.   

Dracula may not have ever loved you for a daughter-in-law. Hell, he may not have ever loved anyone aside from Mrs. Tepes, but you promised her while huddling together that first night in those dingy cells that no matter what happened, should either of you get out alive, you would not leave Adrian and Vlad. “They need humans, (Y/N),” Lisa coughed into your ear. “And most importantly, humanity needs them.”   

Dracula would resent your company, he would want to be rid of you. But you could not be rid of him, not after what Lisa had asked of you.   

‘Besides,’ you thought, ‘Nobody should have to grieve alone.’   

The journey back home to your parents is majorly uneventful. Sure, it was touch and go for a while, your body was exhausted after the ordeal you endured, and your wounds had gotten infected once or twice. Thankfully, you had the mind to pack with you any potential treatments you might need.   

It felt good to be home, to be amongst family again. You couldn’t stop crying and hugging everyone when you first arrived. You kept the details to a minimum but made it clear they needed to be the hell out of Wallachia before a year. You told them you had found an apprenticeship, that the woman was kind to you, but while in Targoviste, you saw the burning of a witch, and soon after the face of Satan himself appeared in flames, threatening the crowd. It caused a panic, you see, and you had gotten trampled in the process.   

You didn’t bother to explain that the woman you were learning under was this so-called witch and that this Satanic figure was her husband. Nor did you tell them of your half-inhuman partner. You knew had you told the family the whole truth, they might have cast you out as a devil worshiper and a liar and choose not to heed your words.   

Your warnings spread through your extended family like how ivy creeps up a stone wall. A fair part of your relatives in the country believed you enough to agree to uproot their lives and settle outside of Wallachia: some settled on Syria, others had decided on Greece, Egypt, or Rome. The more skeptical ones who hemmed and hawed over the validity of your claims agreed to move into the countryside, a decent distance from any major Wallachian city or village.   

When you were certain they’d heed your words, you told them you could not stay with them, your Mother wept for three straight days and your Father could do little to console her. As much as it broke your family’s heart, you knew that your need to return to Castlevania was larger than yours. You weren't just doing it for your family, you were doing it for every family across the land. You couldn't be selfish. Mrs. Tepes was the most selfless woman you had met, and she taught you well. If you meant what you said to her when you first met, that you wanted to help people, you would need to buck up and accept the consequences of that.   

Your journey back to the castle was much more melancholy than your journey home. You could almost feel the whispers of the tortured souls Dracula had slain before blowing cold air into your ears, begging you to turn back. Nevertheless, you continued. You entered Castlevania to find you were alone, however, that would not be the case for long.   

Months later you had fallen into somewhat of a predictable routine within the castle and its new occupants. Dracula had recruited two humans to serve as his war planners— men by the names of Hector and Isaac, respectively. You appreciate the levity Hector, and his undead pets bring, and you admire the intelligence and loyalty Isaac has. You just wish they weren’t going along with Dracula’s plan.   

You tread carefully as you find the time to express to each of his Generals that you wish they wouldn’t go through with this plan. You explain humans are not the kind of species to give in to subjugation, they will revolt eventually. You suggest the vampires come up with some sort of tit-for-tat system with the humans instead like, for example, promised blood servants would equal vampiric protection for that territory.  

It’s safe to say no one is impressed with your centrist ideals, so eventually stop taking part in the conversation. You silently hang around Hector, and just listen with a sorrowful expression, satisfied with knowing that if you can’t change the Generals' minds, you can, at the very least, make them somewhat uncomfortable.  

When Carmilla arrives, you’re immediately put off by her little display of insolence. Unlike yours, her dissent doesn’t seem to come from a place of concern. You make a mental note to keep an eye on her.  

It’s during the General's next argument that you receive a ray of hope: “We are quite certain that Alucard sleeps at Gresit.”  

You feel your body grow lighter.  

“So, that means,” you speak aloud to yourself more so to anyone else, “Adrian is alive?”  

You’re met with a handful of annoyed glares from the other vampires as Isaac continues: “And that there was recently a Belmont there.”  

Upon hearing Carmilla berate the others for not sending night creatures to the ancestral Belmont home, your smile falls and your improved mood falters. These Belmonts were famous monster hunters, famous enough to frighten your current vampire company. That means, if there was a Belmont in Gresit, at the same time as Adrian, as Alucard, whatever the hell he’s going by these days, it could prove disastrous for your love. For all you know, he’s still recovering from the wounds dealt to him by his Father. And if this Belmont, this monster hunter strikes first and asks questions later, he may accidentally kill the only living vampire in existence who stands against the very nature of this war.  

‘How ironic,’ you think solemnly. Just as fast as the universe gives you hope, it rips it away once more.  

You excuse yourself, and make your way towards Hector’s forge, aiming to distract your distraught mind with some cute reanimated pets.  

Shortly thereafter, Hector joins you. He asks if you truly did not know Dracula’s son was still alive. You shake your head ‘no’, telling him how you had prayed every past night to any God who would listen, that they would send their holy armies and angels to guard him, but no, you had mostly just feared he was dead.  

You spend the rest of the night talking to Hector about Alucard, Adrian as you knew him. How smart he was, how much the two of you used to laugh, and how much he looked just like his Mother.  

“Perhaps that’s why,” Hector supposes, “Dracula could no longer bear to see him.”  

You say perchance he’s right, conveniently leaving out the part where the Father and Son duo almost fought to the death right in front of you.  

The conversation with Hector reignites something within you. You feel as if you had been praying all this time for an answer, and this was it. Alucard was alive, and so was Belmont. You understand now what needs to be done.  

Your lover must once again fight his Father, and this time, he must win.  

Your silent observations allow you to learn of Carmilla’s scheme fairly early on, as well as Godbrand’s demise at the hands of Isaac, yet all that time, you say nothing. You keep your mouth shut and your eyes down. If Carmilla divides Dracula’s army and court, she will inevitably make it easier for Alucard and Belmont to destroy him.  

The Generals, and even Dracula himself, believe you are mourning the loss of your love for the second time, as his demise will be inevitable the moment he meets his Father and his armies— or at least, that’s what they assume.  

When Carmilla has Hector send special night creatures to the remains of the Belmont home, you attach a letter around one of the creature's necks, hoping your love will notice it, and if he doesn’t, you pray he instinctively outwits the traps that await for him within his Father’s castle.  

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━   

Beginning Again:   

The night Dracula chooses to move the Castle to Braila, you manage to speak with him one last time.  

You bring him some tea, even though you know he won’t drink it, and you tell him, for what must be the hundredth time, how sorry you are about all that’s happened. You apologize for not being able to do more to save his wife. You tell him that if you could do it all over again if you were given a choice between who they should burn first, you’d demand it be you.  

Dracula turns away from the fire to look at you upon hearing those words.  

“She was fond of you, you know.” He says, sounding far away as if lost in a distant memory. “She was overjoyed at the thought of gaining a daughter”  

You nodded along a hurt smile on your face. “It was my honor.” Gathering your courage you continued: “Even though it didn’t work out, I want you to know I loved your wife very much… And,” you kept going. “I love your son very much.”  

Dracula said nothing. He simply turned his attention back to the flames within his study’s fireplace.  

“It’s not too late, you know,” you prod gently. “If Adrian is alive, he could still come back, we could still be a family-”  

“No!” Dracula’s low growl sent shivers down your spine.  

For a moment you feared he would rise to attack you or perhaps berate you further, but no such action came. Instead, the former Great Lord Dracula’s shoulders deflated back to their hunched position, as he fell silent once again.  

Quietly, you made your way back to your room, shutting and locking the door behind you. If you had any tears left at all, you would have shed them throughout the night. Instead, you merely lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if there would even be a tomorrow to awaken to.  

Pleased to still be alive at this point, but feeling increasingly suffocated by this overwhelming sense of doom, you spend the next day cooped up in your room, on your knees, the rosary in your hand, whispering prayers of safety for your loved one. You couldn't explain it, but at the time, you felt compelled to recite prayer after prayer and reveal all the fears and worries in your heart.  

You speak out to Death, to God, to all the angels and saints, and beg them to grant Adrian safe passage as he completes his task of saving humanity— it’s something his Mother would have wanted after all.  

Amidst your fervent prayers, you feel the Castle shake and creak, but you soon realize something is off: it keeps jerking from side to side, several times, way too many to be a case of a single relocation. Your heart races, and in the pit of your gut, you know this is it:

The Alucard has come.  

Your love has come back for you.  

You scramble behind the door, poised with a wooden stake in hand (just in case, you never know), and wait.  

And wait.  

And wait.  

Following a crescendo of metallic crashes and screaming, you hear more crashes, this time lesser in intensity and they’re accompanied by the distinct scent of fire, sulfur, and burnt flesh.  

It terrifies you, bringing such horrible memories of your almost demise to the surface. You look down at the burn scars on your arms and feel physically ill. Every time you shut your eyes to blink, you see the corpse of Ms. Tepes, burning alive right before you as if no time has passed at all, as if you’re trapped in the permanent hell of that memory.  

The overwhelming ornery atmosphere in the castle only grows, seeming to suddenly flood your nostrils and every pore.  

You watch in shock and horror as thousands of soot-colored transparent ghouls burst through your doorway, the shock of the impact sending you reeling into the bed. Tortured faces of all shapes and sizes circle you menacingly, before bursting through your room’s glass window, vanishing just as fast as they came.  

Within an instant you feel… lighter, freer almost. It’s as if something major has changed, but you don’t know what.  

Timidly, stake still in hand, you make your way down the castle corridors. Unfortunately, you have to take several detours, your regular route being cut off by giant holes in the architecture. A good portion of the castle looks like it had been hit with cannon fire.  

You sincerely hope that whatever caused that damage is no longer rampaging around these halls, lest you stumble upon them yourself.  

By the time you reach the throne room, the sun is just peeking out from behind the horizon. The sight of it flowing freely into the castle interior lifts your spirits with hope. Sunlight means no vampires. No vampires means…

You follow the originating path of the sun’s beams, finding three figures illustrated against the sunrise. One of them is a burly-looking man, with a large frame and broad shoulders. Another is a woman, at least, you’re fairly certain they’re a woman, with curly hair, dressed in flowing blue robes. And the third is….  

You don’t even need a second glance to know who the third person is.  

Crying out his name, you run towards your long-lost lover, almost losing your footing over all the debris covering the floor. But just as he would before, and just as he always would, your lover, Adrian, catches you before you can fall.  

The two of you cling to each other for dear life, just silently sobbing, feeling grateful to be in one another’s embrace. You’re not sure how long the two of you stay intertwined like that, you just know however long it was, it could never be enough to make up for how much you missed him this past year.  

“Adrian,” you clutch his coat, “I thought you were dead! I thought he had killed you! I was so worried.”  

“He almost did,” the strange broad-shoulder man reveals in a teasing fashion. You watch as the robed woman elbows him in the gut.  

“Alucard,” Adrian says, regaining your attention as he grasps your hands in his. “I am Alucard now.”  

You look into his golden eyes, sensing while this is still very much the body of the man you loved, this Alucard before you, is not the same person that your Adrian was. After all this time, it feels like quite the loss, and yet, you cannot fault him for it. You are unaware of the journey he’s been on, of the sacrifices he’s had to make. God knows your character must have changed as well, living amongst a vampire court and necromancers for just under a year.  

You back away from your love, temporarily ignoring his concerned expression.  

“Hello Alucard,” you say, extending a hand, “My name is (Y/N). And I’d very much like to share a drink with you if you’d let me.”  

“Don’ know about Alucard,” the broad man mumbles, gripping his side in pain, “But I’d very much like a drink. Or five.”  

“Trevor!” The robed woman scolds.  

“What?”  

You smile at the three of them, feeling beyond blessed that your love has found such wonderful new friends.  

When you had first fallen for Adrian, you assumed your family would consist solely of him, his mother, and his father, that you’d spend the rest of your days learning medicine in a little cottage nestled in Lupu. That simple life was to be yours. But now, it’s all changed. And Alucard is all that remains of that family you once loved.  

You gaze out into the forest beyond the castle grounds, closing your eyes and sighing as you feel the morning’s sun on your face.  

Yes, it was true Mrs. and Mr. Tepes were gone.

It was true that the old Adrian could never come back.

But if you had to choose a new life, a life here amongst a gorgeous castle, with your former lover and his two new friends, well… you doubted you could pick a better one than that.  

A/N 2.0: WHY DID THIS TAKE ME SO LOOOONG? Who knows? Anyway, it’s here now. And hey— did you pay close attention to the symbols in the dividers? Go ahead and look back if you didn’t, just a silly little fun symbolism storytelling. Oh, also, I will finally be updating The Queue List to reflect all the asks I’ve since answered and posted to not confuse people checking on the status of their ask/new readers.

If you liked reading this, please REBLOG! Likes are great but reblogs spread my work much further. 

If you really, really liked reading this, Consider Buying Me a Coffee <3. 

[the-kr8tor]

Into the Eye of the Needle

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.6k

Summary: Billie and Ramona falls back in time during the 90s, meeting the younger versions of their parents and finding that your relationship with their dad is in shambles. Will they be able to help in repairing it before they cease to exist?

Tags: no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), use of Y/N sparsely. Mum! Reader, Dad! Hobie, twin au, dad au, Billie and Ramona au, TTN au (but you don't need to read it to understand this one), time travel au, cw food mentions, fluff.

A/N: Behold! One of the silliest fic and most self indulgent fic I ever wrote lol enjoy

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Dad! Hobie Masterlist

Octobie🎸

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Billie and Mona's voices echo around the house as you and Hobie clean the living room before you start setting up for Halloween.

“Damnit!” Billie's unmistakeable frustrated tone floats from upstairs down to the living room.

Hobie sighs and meets with your eyes across the room whilst he's holding up the entire sofa with one hand and with a vacuum on the other. “They got your vocabulary.”

The feather duster pauses in your hand and the picture frames on the wall that you're dusting stop swinging. “And they got your love for doing chores.” You say sarcastically.

Hobie wants to abandon the cleaning and snog you right there and then. Which might prove your words right if he does. With a promise and a wink towards you, he calls the girls. “Mac and Cheese!”

The sounds of bounding feet reverberates, and a moment later, their almost identical faces pop up from the top of the stairs. “Yeah?” They say at the same time.

You smile at them with fondness. But you show them that you mean business with your hands on your hips. Hobie calls it your mum pose, and your children call it the ‘we’re in trouble’ pose.

“Your mum asked the two of you to grab the boxes from the attic, not just one of you. Stop playin’” He glances at you briefly, and he gets a nod of approval from you.

“But playin’ rock, paper, scissors is an old age tradition on who gets to do the chores!” Billie answers back.

“Didn't you and uncle Ned used to do it when you were roommates?” Mona, being Mona, backs her sister with a smart rhetoric.

Teenagers, you sigh in your mind. “Well when me and your dad were roommates, we did all the chores together. That made it more fun.”

“Ew, mum!” They say simultaneously, groaning and acting like they're about to vomit.

You cross the distance towards Hobie, and he in turn puts the sofa down gently as he abandons the vacuum to hold your waist instead.

“Wait, what did I say?” You ask the three of them.

“We didn't need to hear what you and dad were up to back then, mum!” Billie even covers her ears dramatically as Mona fakes a gag.

Hobie chuckles next to you as realization hits you. “I didn't mean it by that—”

“If you gremlins don't go to the attic in the count of ten you're goin’ to hear a lot more.” Hobie cuts you off, and you play by his bit when you send him a sultry wink. “One…” they're already running up the stairs and up the ladder before you could even smooch Hobie. “Works like a bloody charm.” He says as he pecks your cheek lovingly, all the while chuckling against your soft skin.

—

“Why is it so dusty in ‘ere?” Mona coughs, while Billie sifts through the numerous boxes in the small attic.

The attic smells of old clothes left in the wardrobe for far too long and mildew clinging on wood. The place is big enough to fit dozens of boxes and bags but small enough to let the girls crawl and not stand up lest they want to get a full face of cobwebs clinging on the ceiling.

“I think they're just spider webs, Mon.”

“That is not better, Bee.”

“Our dad is literally part spider—ohh!” Billie holds up a pair of old jeans with white lace sewn into the ripped parts. “This is so cute!”

“Looks like mum's.” Mona checks it for any damage, she finds none but she does find Hobie's name scribbled on the tag. “Nope, it's dad's.”

Billie scrunches her nose. “Doesn't look like dad's.”

“You never know what kind of fashion he had back then.” Her sister shrugs, taking her attention away from the jeans to a wooden box that looks more enticing. “We're talkin’ ‘bout the 90s ‘ere. Dad probably had a leather jacket for every day of the week—” she hears shuffling behind her and Billie's already rifling through the entire box without a care. “And she's gone.”

Billie doesn't hear her, “this one suits you, Mon!” Lifting up a long sleeved blouse with a hummingbird embroidered on each collar, Billie brings it on Mona's chest to see if it fits her. “Hmm, a bit small but nothin’ like a pair of high waisted jeans couldn't fix it!”

“I like this one actually,” Mona smiles, tracing the colourful stitched bird on the collar with her thumb. “This was definitely mum's. Dad would never wear somethin’ with a collar like this.”

“Good find, huh? Say ‘thank you,’ Bee.” She shuffles, dancing excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah, Bee.” Mona rolls her eyes before folding the blouse neatly and then placing it on the floor next to her. “We still need to find those decorations. I can feel my allergies acting up.”

“Fine, but 'm gonna take this entire box with us.” Billie closes and kicks the box towards the attic exit, it skids on the dusty floor and then plunges down from the ladder down to the hallway. “Whoops!”

Ramona gasps, “You gotta watch your strength, you might break somethin’!”

Billie winces when she hears your familiar footsteps frantically walking up the stairs. You don't sound mad, probably concerned about them. Your eldest crawls towards the hole in the ceiling to look down apologetically at you. Mona shuffles on her knees, following behind her sister.

“We're okay!” They both yell the second you reach the last step.

You visibly relax, shoulders sagging as you see them both fine atop the attic. “I thought you two fell!” You hold onto your chest, “They're alright, Hobs!” You yell down to inform him.

“Told you! Spider senses don't lie, love!” His muffled voice echoes up the house.

Crossing the small distance, you look at the crumpled box that's spilling old clothes. “I remember these!” You chuckle, bending at the waist to take a familiar white shirt splattered with graffiti designs. “I made these! Too bad it doesn't fit your dad anymore.”

“I told you it was dad's!” Mona nudges her sister by her shoulder.

Billie nudges back, pushing Mona playfully. “But it fits us, mum! Can we keep it? We'll share, promise!” Billie acts cute, fluttering her lashes towards you with a sweet smile.

Mona huffs, hand pressed on her sister's cheek to push her away as she continues to jab her. “Yeah, can we?”

“Stop pushing, you'll actually fall this time.” You chuckle, they remind you of Hobie and Ned when they were younger, always pushing each other but more than ready to pull the other back up. “Are you sure? They're not too old school?”

“Nah!” They simultaneously say.

“Old school is actually in these days, mum!”

“Oh I know, sweetheart, my design assistant keeps yammering about trends just going around in circles.”

They smile at you, “you should hire us instead then!” Billie half teases.

You get a light bulb idea, “Tell you what, dad and I are going to pick up your brother from band practice. When we come back— and if the house looks ready for the Halloween party tomorrow then I'll bring you both to work next Friday, deal?”

They shriek excitedly. You hear Hobie downstairs copy their high pitched shrieks, making their guffaw ring around the house. “Only if the house looks nice.” You laugh at their antics, “just be careful with the streamers, okay? And leave the string lights to us.” Walking closer to the ladder, you look up at them sweetly. “I know you're not used to your abilities just yet, so be extra careful with each other, okay?”

“Don't worry, mum, I've got Mon-mon.” Billie mocks salutes.

“And I've got Billie. I'll catch her when she falls.”

“Oi! That was one time!”

Your phone rings in your pocket, the ringtone is one of Hobie's old songs. “Good,” leaning up, tip toeing, you pat each of their cheeks. “That's your brother, love you both so much.”

“Love you too, mummy.” Mona replies, sending you a flying kiss that she hasn't shaked away since she was five. You wouldn't have it any other way.

“Love you, mum!” Billie responds more enthusiastically, waving at you while you climb down the ladder.

“No love for me?!” Hobie, still downstairs and getting the keys based on the soft jingle of metal, yells back at the three of you.

“Love you, dad!” The twins yell back happily. You're glad that even though they're already fifteen, they're not embarrassed to say the three words back to you and Hobie.

“Love you, gremlins!” Hobie screams back, this time much clearer as he stands on the bottom of the staircase while waiting for you. “C’mon, love, let's get ice cream without them.” He teases.

You giggle, hand reaching towards Hobie as you both run away. A resounding sound of disapproval rings out while you and Hobie run off towards the garage.

“I want rocky road!” Billie calls back as she hears the engine start. “What do you want, Mo—” when she turns towards her twin, she finds her spot empty. “Hey!”

“What? ‘m doin' my task. Go look in the other corner.”

“Fine, don't blame me if they don't get your coconut ice cream, yuck by the way.” Billie heads off towards a red bag, unzipping it to find old rolls of fabric. “No Halloween stuff here.”

“Coconut ice cream is refreshing.” Mona explains while she rummages through a box full of multicoloured wires. The whole box got her intrigued, why would her parents keep this junk if it's not important?

“Ooh more clothes! Jackpot!”

Something shiny catches Mona's eyes, pushing through mountains of wires to get to the bottom of the chest, she finds something circular and metallic at the end. “What's this?”

Billie looks over her shoulder while she holds up a pair of plaid pants. “I don't know but that doesn't look Halloweeney.”

Mona takes it out of the chest, thumbs rubbing along the front, the dust has settled on the glass, caking it with grey itchy dust. “Looks like a watch.”

“Oh shit what if it's one of those vintage watches that's actually worth thousands of pounds?”

Ramona cleans the watch face with her jumper sleeve. Billie tilts her head, curious at why her sister is so intrigued by an old watch when she can't even get her attention whenever they watch a movie.

“I've never seen dad wear a proper watch, not even at uncle Ned’s weddin’.”

Mona's breath hitches in her throat, remembering her father's stories during his time at the spider society. “I don't think it's a regular watch, Bee.” Her eyes widen at how advanced it looks technology wise, with a touch of Hobie's personal style.

“Shit is it a million dollar watch?!” Her twin scooches closer, knees dragging along the floorboards unbothered that it's probably scratching her precious corduroy.

Mona turns her head towards Billie, “I think it's—!” Before she could finish her sentence, a bright light encapsulates them both. Plunging the twins into a kaleidoscope of colours.

—

“Ramona! I don't want to die!” Billie grabs hold of her sister while they're plummeting down in a multicoloured tunnel of lights and sounds that echo in their ears like a wind turbine.

“We're not gonna die!” Mona hugs her twin tighter, eyes shut closed to keep out the bright lights. “Mum and dad's gonna kill us if we die!”

“Fuck!” Billie shields Mona's head, bracing for impact once she spots the end of the colourful tunnel.

With roll and a groan, they land on a sea of grass. Mona lifts her head up from the tall grass, checking and patting herself if all her fingers and face are still intact.

“Billie!”

A hand raises from the bushes. “‘ere!”

“Oh thank fuck.” Standing up, Mona scans her surroundings. It looks like their neighborhood, except there's fewer houses in place, and there's a large oak tree standing in the middle of where their house is supposed to be. “What?”

Billie spits out a piece of grass stuck on her lip gloss. “What, what?” While she picks out blades of grass from her sister's braids.

Mona walks over to the metal fence where the picket fence that she remembers painting with her family was supposed to be. Her eyes roam all over the neighbour’s house. She's sure an older lady and her husband live there, not a middle aged couple with three kids running around the porch. The couple look spry while they're both tending to their bountiful garden.

“What the fuck?” Mona curses under her breath while Billie takes out her phone from her pocket to check. To her surprise, the device doesn't even open no matter how many times she taps it.

Billie turns her attention towards what's causing her sister to curse, brows creasing together at the sight in front of her. “Mon, tell me what's happening and why old Eunice looks gorgeous in that sweater vest.”

“I don't think we're in the same universe anymore.” Mona grips the metal fence tightly, the sound gathering the attention of the children, who awfully look like the people she sees visit the house every holiday. “Psst!”

All three children glance towards them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Mon, don't do that, you look like a bloody creep.”

“It's the only way I can get their attention!”

“Hello, excuse me, do you two need help?” Surprisingly, a much younger Eunice walks over to them. She roams her brown eyes all over the twins, concern and confusion flitting over her expression.

“Yeah, uh…” Ramona realizes that she can't just ask what year it is, or even ask what universe they're in. So she plays it casually. “Who's the top artist this year?”

“Excuse me?”

Billie sighs and closes her eyes from the sheer embarrassment. “We're from the local radio conductin’ a survey and we'd love to hear what you think of the… top artist this year.” She tries her best.

Mona nods enthusiastically, chuckling nervously, “what she said.”

“Oh I love nirvana and Mariah Carey!”

Mona gasps, “late 90s!”

“What?”

Billie grabs her sister by her arm. “Yes, thank you for answering our survey! Bye!” She yanks her away, dragging her towards the street and out of the suburban area.

“Wait, aren't surveys supposed to be more than one question?!” Eunice yells back, “I want to tell you how much I love ‘Always be my baby!’”

“Walk faster.” Billie walks briskly with Mona right next to her. “‘Top artist?’ Really, Mon?”

“Well it's either that or ask how Diana is!” She huffs, keeping up with her sister's strides. “Well at least now we know what year we're in!”

“Yeah, what if we're in a different dimension? Remember what dad taught us?”

“I know! Fuck!”

Billie stops mid stride, holding out her arm to stop Mona from walking. “Wait, where's the watch.”

Mona's eyes widen like saucer plates, “oh shit!” Patting her pockets frantically, she feels the circular shape of it in her jean pocket and she sighs in relief. “It's ‘ere.”

“I can't fucking believe dad's old watch still works.”

“Not anymore.” Mona winces at the cracked screen with the glitching numbers that read ‘138’

Billie sucks in her teeth. “At least now we know we're in the same dimension. But we're not in Kansas anymore.” She says with a transatlantic accent. Mona side eyes her with her nose scrunched up. “What? I always wanted to say that.”

Mona huffs, “Yeah, we time traveled.” She rubs her eyes with the heel of her palms. Groaning and body deflating. “I didn't even know it could do that.”

Meanwhile, Billie walks up and down the street with her hands buried in her hair. “Fuck, what if Miguel comes after us?”

“I think that's better, at least he can take us home.” Mona sits down on the curb, pocketing the watch for safe keeping while she thinks of a solution. What would you think when you get home to an empty house? Would their dad figure out where they are?

“Uh no, I don't want that vampire runnin’ after us!” Billie continues to pace around, anxiety pooling in the bottom of her stomach. “They're gonna go bonkers when they find out we're missin’”

“He's cool now, I think.”

“How are you so calm?!” Billie shakes her sister's shoulders.

“‘m not! ‘m freakin’ the fuck out, Bee!” She yells, cracking under the pressure, lips wobbling. “What if we can't go home because of my curious arse?!”

“Oi! Not your fault, alright?” Her eyes grow soft despite the tears brimming. “You were just lookin' at it, not your fault that it went haywire, ‘kay?”

Mona nods slowly, rubbing her clammy palms on her leg. “Okay, I'll get us home, bee, I promise.”

“I know, Mon, I'll help.” She gently punches her bicep playfully.

Mona scoffs with a smile, “you better.”

Billie chuckles, reminiscent of their dad's smile. “I think I've got an idea.” She sits down next to her sister on the curb. “Remember that one old movie we watched with mum and dad?”

“The time traveling one?”

“No, Tarzan.” She answers back sarcastically. “Of course the time traveling one, ‘back to the future.’

“Okay, so what about it?”

“We can't tell people we're from the future. But at the same time we can't fix that watch ourselves.” Billie points at where the watch is stored.

“What if I can? You don't know that.” Mona scoffs.

“Just lower your damn ego for a minute, Tony Stark.” Billie huffs, “my idea is that we go to someone who can actually fix it.”

“Well we obviously can't go to dad. You know what happened to the movie when the kid met his mum.” Mona shivers from the thought.

“Ew, I know, also I do not want to see dad and mum makin’ kissy faces at each other.” It's Billie's turn to shiver.

“So the second smartest person we know who can handle tech?” Mona understands what her twin meant.

“You read my mind, we're goin' to go to uncle Ned's—”

“Aunt Riri—!” They manage to say simultaneously. Sometimes twin teleplay fails.

“Shit, your idea is better actually.” Billie agrees.

Mona throws her head back, groaning at the realization. “Yeah, but if I remember correctly, she hasn't met mum and dad yet during the 90s. They met sometime during 2003, I remember because That's when Aunty moved ‘ere for her doctorate.”

“Fuck!” Billie stands up abruptly. “So uncle Ned then? Since Aunt Riri is still in the US. Unless we get on a bloody plane and manage to convince her.”

Mona stands up, shrugging. “We have no choice, it's either him or dad. Besides, he helped dad make his gadgets. We'd be in good hands.”

“Yeah, if he knows us! He doesn't know us, remember? He might not help a couple of strangers.” Billie follows Ramona towards the city. She can see the light from where she's standing. The sun shines down on them on a rare sunny day in London, making the back of their necks sweat and agitating them even more.

“We can convince him, if that doesn't work we'll tell him we're aliens. He's obsessed with ‘em, remember?”

“This is why you have the higher grades, Mon.”

“I don't know if that's sarcasm or not.”

Billie giggles, hand placed in her pockets. “Guess.”

“Arse.” Mona's lips curls into a smile, while Billie loops her arm around her sister's. “By this time, Uncle Ned has already moved to Richmond so we'll take a bus to his place.” They walk into the busy city with its buzzing sounds and lights flashing all over. Passing by a graffiti, Mona holds Billie's hand to reassure herself that she's not alone in the strange yet familiar city.

“Thank god for your ironclad memory. I don't even remember what we ate last night.” Billie nudges Mona with her shoulder.

“It was lasagna—” Mona stops halfway, eyes glued on someone sitting on the bus stop. She has Billie’s lips and face shape. And with Mona's eyes and smile. “Mum?”

Billie follows her line of sight, palms suddenly clammy at the sight of a younger you. “Holy fuck.” You look amazing in your high heeled boots, and blouse that Billie herself saw while rummaging through the boxes back home. You're unmistakably you. “What are we gonna do?”

“We just walk away— oh fuck, she's cryin’” Sure enough, your casual façade fades into sadness. You hold your face in your hands, shoulders shaking and tears seeping through your fingers. “What the fuck happened?” Their heart aches for you.

“I don't know, but that's our mum, c’mon.” They don't hesitate to walk towards you. Damn all the time traveling rules they got from movies, you're their mum and they can't bear it when you cry.

Their shoes click against the pavement, eyes trained on your shivering form. “H–hi,” Billie starts with trepidation. “Are you okay?” She tilts her head, making sure to give you enough space so as to not frighten you.

You swallow thickly, hands immediately rubbing along your eyes to wipe away the tears. But your red eyes stay despite your gentle smile. “Hello, sorry, am I blocking the bench?” You say with a broken tone, acting fine while you gather your bag.

“No, mu—” Mona's lips wobble at the sight of your tear stained cheeks. “No, you're not blockin’ the way. We're askin' if you're okay.”

You nod your head with hesitation. “Yeah, I'm okay, sorry to bother you.”

“I don't think you're okay.” Billie says bluntly. “Sorry, that was a bit rude. ‘m—” she pauses, thinking of another name so that she doesn't accidentally change her actual name in the present. “Milly, that's my name. My sister…Eunice and I were just a bit worried ‘bout you.”

Mona winces at the name her twin chose for her. “Yep,” she says, side eyeing her sister. “Are you hurt?”

You chuckle wetly, “does being heart broken count?”

What the fuck did dad do? Both Billie and Mona think at the same time. They look at each other knowingly.

Mona sits next to you while Billie leans on the bus stop. “You can tell us.”

“I'm sorry but I don't like bothering strangers with my sad loner story.”

“Nah, bother us.” Billie smiles gently at you.

You manage to crack a smile. “You both remind me of him actually. You have that confident nonchalance that he also has.”

Oh fuck. Billie and Mona glance at each other knowingly. They should tone down the Hobie–ness they got from their dad or else you'll suspect something is amiss.

“Uh do you guys really want to? My bus won't be here for…” you check your watch. “ten minutes. And you two must have plans tonight.”

“Nope, no plans!” Mona says nervously. “No parties no nothin'.” Billie narrows her eyes towards her sister.

“Ah same, I was just about to go to my friend's house to ask for advice since he knows him as much as I do.”

Mona flits her eyes towards Billie, silently communicating with her. She's going to uncle Ned's. Well that complicates things.

“Or you could ask us for advice instead. No bias ‘ere since we don't know both parties. Just calculated thoughts.” Billie thinks quickly.

“You sure? I don't want to keep you guys away. Your parents might get worried if you two don't come home on time.”

How ironic, Ramona thinks. “We're actually on…an errand. So they don't expect us until later.” She chuckles wryly, hoping that her lie is convincing. “What's botherin’ you?”

You sniff, tears already brimming in your eyes. “I—” inhaling, you look at their concerned faces, finding that their empathy is genuine from their expressions. For some reason, you feel relaxed in their presence. “I'm in love with my best friend. And long story short, I thought he was too. He was saying such sweet words that no friend would say to another friend and I…I thought he fancied me back.”

Billie looks away briefly, refusing to stare at your brokenhearted face. Ramona wants to hold your trembling hand, but she takes her hand back in case her touch is unwanted. You gaze at Mona softly, eyes glancing briefly at her hand before staring at the pavement.

“I h–heard someone at his place.” You stare at your shoes, hands fisting your trousers when you remember her voice ringing out from inside his houseboat. “I know I don't have a right to be jealous or feel like I'm being cheated on, but I can't shake the feeling that he wasn't genuine. That our relationship was just that, a friendship. A one sided love.” Wiping away your tears with your sleeve, you mindlessly play with your cherry earrings, helping yourself calm down. “Especially after what he said yesterday, I just thought,” you shake your head. “That he loved me back. It's stupid, isn't it?”

A looming migraine tugs at your head, you feel like there's a woodpecker poking a hole in the middle of your head, right in between your brows. You push that spot with the heel of your palm, one eye closed to shield yourself from the sun beaming at your right.

You inhale sharply. “And I have this project that could determine my future. And I'm so afraid of failing it just because I decided to ruin my friendship with him.” You gather all your remaining strength, inhaling and exhaling to suppress the headache. Surprisingly, Mona shifts to your side to shield you from the glare of the sun. You look at them, their eyes and soft smiles reminding you of him. “I love him beyond belief. That's a crazy fucking thought.”

Both girls don't remember this part of your love story whenever you or Hobie recall how you two got together after being friends for more than ten years. Billie swallows down her nerves, she leaves the side of the bus stop to crouch down in front of you, looking directly at your tearful eyes.

“‘m sorry that happened to you. And that's not a mad thought.” Mona gently grasps the back of your hand, kneading your palm with her thumb just like how you always did for them back in the present. “You're under a lot of stress, everythin’ just feels like it's all coming down on you, yeah?” You nod, “but it's not, the world's not crumbling down on you.”

“We don't have the right words to help you but—” Billie continues, reaching for her sister's hand that's wrapped around your own. She holds onto you and Mona with a tender touch. “We do know one thing, you'll be okay.”

Mona nods, smiling sweetly at you. “We know you'll be okay.”

You chuckle through the tears, frown replaced with a smile. “Thank you for hearing me out. I think I just needed to vent. I'm sorry that you had to hear all of that.” You joke. “I feel lighter,” squeezing their hands, you grin wider as a tear slides down your cheek. “I feel better, thank you. For a bunch of kids, you two seem to know more than I do.”

“Mum and dad taught us well.” Billie almost chokes on her words when a lump in her throat appears. She wants to go home and see her family.

The bus arrives, and the door opens with a hiss. You pat each of their hands before letting go. “I think I'll go back to my dorm, it's better to finish my project than travel an hour away and bother my friend.”

“Again, you're not a bother.” Mona stands up from her seat, she follows Billie, who's already in the bus’s doorway. “We're glad to lend you an ear.”

“Tell your bloke that he's bein’ a prick, yeah?” Billie jokes, making Mona slap her arm.

You gather your things, already walking away. “I think I will. I'll see you two around. Oh, and uh, nice pants. I have something similar to it, you have a good fashion sense.”

Both girls beam, looking down at their matching corduroys but in different shades. Mona waves at you, almost throwing you a flying kiss, good thing she stopped herself before she blew it.

Meanwhile, Billie waves more enthusiastically even with the tears still clinging to her lashes. “Thanks! It was our mum’s!” As the doors close and they watch your retreating form smile and wave at them goodbye, they feel closer to you than ever.

—

Mona and Billie finally arrive at their uncle Ned's place. It's a simple flat with a bike parked up front, and a flower bed that's been abandoned judging by the dead leaves clinging to the pots.

“I think it's this one. I remember the whole band took a picture in front of it before uncle Ned moved away.” Mona walks up the steps, hand reaching up the door to knock. She pauses, suddenly shy at the thought of talking in front of someone who doesn't know them like they know him.

“You want me to do the talkin’?” Billie asks wholeheartedly without malice or a condescending tone. “I'll try my best not to scare him. Not like the time we sold cookies.”

Her sister nods, “okay, just don't tell him that…” she leans in closer to whisper. “We're from the future.”

Billie chuckles, mirroring her sister. “I won't.” Leaning back, she clears her throat. “Trust me I can handle it.” Holding out her fist, she knocks on the door with a rhythm that both girls made up to recognize each other through the door.

“Hold on!” Someone's muffled yells call at them. “just a minute, Y/N!”

“Oh, he's expectin’ mum.” Billie says, “should I tell him that we ran into her?”

Mona whips her head towards her twin. “I–I don't—”

The door swings open, and out comes Ned in a pink fluffy bathrobe with a toothbrush still in his mouth. “Can I help you?” He raises a brow, looking at their faces like he's trying to place where he last saw them.

“Ned Leeds?”

“Yeah? If you're selling stuff, I don't want it.” He starts to close the door but Billie stops it from closing with her boot in the doorway. Thank goodness for steel toed boots. “I already paid the down payment, now leave me alone.”

“We're not ‘ere for… whatever that is. We need your help.” With Billie's words, Ned opens the door again just a smidge.

“Oh, you lost? I can call your parents for you.”

“That's the thing though, we heard that you're good with tech?” Billie looks at her sister, she nods quietly in place. “And we're looking for someone who can fix our watch.”

Ned's face morphs into annoyance, thinking it's one of those modus operandi for scams. “Call a horologist.” He moves to close the door again before shoving Billie's foot out of the doorway with his fluffy slippers.

“Wait!” Mona shouts, hands grasping the door to keep it open. Billie's eyes widened, afraid for her sister's fingers. “We're aliens!”

A silence hangs in the air for a second while Ned glances at them with an unreadable expression. Then, he laughs amusingly. Both girls look at each other desperately.

“You? The both of you are aliens?” He asks sarcastically.

Billie sucks in her teeth, pushing the door further to open it more, still very careful of her strength lest she doesn't end up meeting uncle Ned in the future. “You sleepwalk at night, and when you do, you always prepare a sandwich in the kitchen, that's why you have that scar on your palm from that one time you used a knife.”

Mona gasps then tamps down a giggle when she realizes what her twin is doing. She remembers when their dad told them that story while the rest of the band were blackout drunk in their old backyard. He had to dodge the knife just to take it from Ned while you were afraid that it would nick either of them.

Their uncle flicks his eyes at his palm, sure enough the scar stares back at him. “How'd you know that? Only two people know about that—”

“You didn't know how to ride a bike until you were sixteen.” Billie continues, slowly walking inside the flat. Mona follows closely, hands placed on her hips to intimidate their poor uncle. He backs down with a terrified expression. “Your friends doesn't know that you're datin’ again. And that you're highly allergic to limes.” Ned looks pale, looking like he's about to faint on the spot. For the cherry on top, Billie shows her ‘hightech’ phone, causing Ned to blink at what the brick shaped object is.

“And peanuts!” Mona adds, and Billie gives her an approved nod. Ned walks backwards into a wall, toothbrush falling from his agape mouth.

“Holy shit,” His chest heaves, wide eyes staring at their faces, waiting for it to turn into bug eyed green creatures from mars. “I'm gonna call the cops now.”

Billie side steps and blocks the only phone in the room, “nuh uh, Ned Leeds. Mon, show him.”

“Oh god I don't want to see your true forms!” He cowers back into a corner.

Mona takes the watch from her pocket, practically shoving it in his face. He jumps away, shoulders shaking. “Sorry, we really just need your help in fixin’ this so we can go home.”

“Y–you’re not gonna hurt me? Or tell me how I die?”

“D’you want us to tell you?” Billie is clearly having too much fun with him.

“...no.” Ned sniffs, trying to calm his nerves while taking a look at the cracked watch. His expression shifts, eyes blinking at the tech. “This looks futuristic.”

“Can you fix it, unc—” Billie clears her throat, “Ned Leeds.”

He furrows his brow at her, “I think so, it might take some time though.”

Both girls look at eachother, they sigh, anxiety rolling around in the pit of their stomach. “Please fix it as fast as you can. Our—” Mona spares a glance at her sister, finding that she has the same expression as her. “Parents are looking for us, they're worried. And we miss our brother too. So please, fix it.”

Ned nods, staring at them empathetically even after what transpired. “So your planet needs you then?”

“...sure.” Billie says with a lopsided smile. “Can we trust you, mortal?” Mona hides the roll of her eyes by closing her eyes.

“Absolutely. If you spare me and my planet.” They don't know whether he's playing them too or he genuinely thinks that they're aliens.

“Better yet,” Mona adds, “you get to learn about our technology while you're at it. Win/win.” Yeah, that definitely won't change anything in the future. Or so she hopes.

“Deal!” Ned walks towards his dining table, already getting all his tools out from his pile of boxes. “Let's get started then. But before that, you guys don't have ray guns right?”

The twins have a long day ahead of them.

—

The sun was beginning to set when Mona woke Billie up from her nap on Ned's couch which was surprisingly comfortable despite it still covered in plastic. After a few hours trying to crack the watch open, Ned has finally figured out what's wrong with it. The bad news is that he needs parts, lots of it, to get it up and running the sooner the better. The good news is that he knows where to get most of the parts, the other bad news is that it's three hours away from his flat. So the three of them decided to split off, the girls will be going back to London to get the new set of lens and power supply from a shop. While Ned drives alone to get the rest. He even left them a copy of his flat keys so that they got somewhere to stay after shopping.

Billie yawns, joints cracking as she stretches her arms up. “Uncle Ned's too trustin’ of people, no wonder he fell for that scam a few years ago.” She jingles the set of keys around her finger, twirling the carabiner around.

They walk on the sidewalk that faces a preppy looking university. A few people walk about, some frantically run inside the campus. Billie guessed they might be late to class, or just needed to take a dump. Her mind wanders off as Mona sighs next to her with the plastic bag of spare parts clanging against her leg.

“I think he's just awfully nice, Bee. It's either that or he knows who we are.” She places her cheek atop her sister's bicep, tired bones creaking as they walk slowly. She wonders if you and Hobie got home already, and if you're freaking out once you see the empty house.

“Literally impossible, how would he know?”

“His best mates are mum and dad, he has known them since they were young. And he's smart, he might've figured it all out—”

“Holy fuck is that dad?!” Billie yells out of nowhere, startling her sister. “Christ, he looks awful.”

Mona follows her gaze, stopping to see a tall disheveled man standing next to his bike at the campus parking lot. His hair and leather jacket stands out amidst the crowd, and his demeanor screams lovelorn. His shoulders slump, hands moving about like he's about to take a leap of fate. When Mona follows what he's looking at, she's not surprised that he's staring at you.

“And mummy too.”

“What–?” Billie peeks behind a car, gasping when she sees you talking to a friend in front of your campus building. “Talk about drama.”

“Billie, I think we're in trouble if we don't help them get back together.”

“What do you mean? I think we already helped by talkin’ to mum.” Mona starts to walk towards the university entrance, eyes trained on the younger version of their dad.

“Yeah, but not dad.” They stop right next to a parked car, hiding behind it to watch whether or not Hobie would walk towards you. Or do something, anything to keep the peace between the two of you. “Look at him, I've never seen him this nervous since our brother was born.”

“Correction, I've seen him this nervous during our recital.” Mona just stares at her with a flat look. “What? ‘m just copyin’ you.” She teases with a chuckle. “You said it yourself, we can't talk to dad.”

“Yeah, ‘bout us bein’ his kids, but that doesn't include us givin’ him advice.”

“What are we even goin' to tell him? He's gonna eat us whole, Mon, look at him!” Both girls turn their attention towards Hobie. “Ew, he's all sweaty—okay, not that but, he looks like he's gonna bully us.”

“This is the exact same time he got bit by the spider. Give him some slack, Bee.” Mona rolls her eyes, in her peripheral vision, she sees you walk towards your dorm building with a couple of classmates. “Besides, he's not gonna bully us.” She takes the opportunity to cross the distance towards Hobie while you're occupied with your friends in the lobby.

“Yeah, but remember uncle Ned tellin' us that he wore a cardigan with loafers one time and dad never let him hear the end of it?”

“Yeah, but mum wears it all the time and he says that it looks cute on her!” They walk briskly when Hobie gets on his bike. “Not in those words, ‘fit’ is the word he used, but he doesn't bully people!”

“That was mum! Not us who are a couple of almost identical strangers—” Billie tries to grab Mona by her shoulder but she's faster than her, dodging her hand and standing in front of their dad's motorcycle with an intense look.

Mona inhales deeply, nose flaring up, index pointing at their dad. When she opens her mouth, no words come out.

Hobie blinks at them, eyebrows furrowed with a questioning look. “Is there somethin' on my face?”

“Nothin’! My sister ‘ere thought you're somebody else.” Billie tries to save face, pulling Mona out of the way but she stands firm. “Let's go, Mon.”

“You!” Mona starts tentatively, Billie groans, hiding her face with her hands from the second hand embarrassment. “I– you better apologize to mu— Y/N! Yeah, apologize t–to her.” She puts her hands on her hips, trying to act intimidating. Billie curses under her breath.

“You’re friends with Y/N?” Hobie leans atop the handlebars of his bike, confused about the whole ordeal. “I don't remember her talkin' ‘bout a couple of teenagers bein’ friends with her. Didn't your parents teach you manners?”

Mona swallows thickly, looking back towards Billie for help. Her twin sighs, stepping forward to fix the situation. “Well,” she chuckles nervously, his pointed stare reminds her of his look whenever they break curfew. “We're—” she's at a loss for words when Hobie raises a brow at her. Her palms are suddenly clammy. “Just apologize to her please.”

Hobie chuckles lightly, hands rubbing along his face tiredly. “That's what ‘m tryin’ to do, mate.”

The girls glance at each other briefly, sensing their father's frustration and sorrow behind his words.

“I don't know where to start, she wouldn't answer my calls, it was a misunderstandin’, I—” He sniffs, eyes staring off in the direction of where you are. “Is she alright, at least? She eatin’, sleepin’?”

Mona purses her lips, “we don't know but she misses you.”

Hobie's eyes shines in the orange afternoon glow. “Yeah, same over ‘ere.” He taps his brake mindlessly with his thumb, a nervous tick of his that the girls are familiar with. “Don't worry, I'll talk to her. I think she just needs some time away from me.” He chuckles without humour. “Ten years with me will do that to you.”

They both shake their heads. “We don't think so,” their hearts break for their dad. In the present they know how much he loves you, but now they know that he loves you just as much as in the past. “Just please talk to her.”

“And remember she has that fashion show.” Billie adds, frowning as she fights the tears in her eyes. If they fail, they wouldn't be born, she wouldn't have met her sister. She wouldn't have met their younger brother no matter how annoying he can be sometimes. “Don't make her wait or she might not come back for you.”

She recalls the story that she knows like the back of her hand. Where you come back to London after years of being apart, only connected with him through letters and late night phone calls. If he doesn't cross the line that he's been tethering over for the past ten years, or if you don't take that leap of fate you always wanted to, their family wouldn't exist. Their love would cease to exist.

Hobie swallows down his nerves. “I'll keep tryin', and I remember her show. I'll be there.” With a nod, he puts on his helmet.

Both girls back away. “And we'll make sure that she gives you the outfit.”

Billie smiles, “we think you'll like it.”

Hobie grins under the helmet, eyes staring briefly at you, as if saying goodbye for now. “If she made it, I already like it.” He revs his engine, “thanks, uh?”

“Milly and Eunice!” Billy says with her whole chest while Mona side glances at her with a scrunched up look.

“Milly,” he repeats, smiling, “wait, have I seen you two before?”

The twins widen their eyes, quickly walking away before he could ask any questions. “Maybe at a gallery or a concert? Anyway, bye, da— Hobie!”

As they walk away with their heads down, they hear Hobie drive away from behind with more questions swimming in his mind. Sighing, they see themselves in front of your dorm building. Before they could leave, the door opens and your head peeks over the crack.

Your eyes are clearly brimming with tears, nose relentlessly sniffing. “That was him.”

“Oh, mu— Y/N.” Mona opens the door, and without thinking, she hugs you. To both of their surprise, you hug back. Billie joins in after the shock, patting your back gently as you cry on Mona's shoulder.

—

“Where'd you guys learn how to stitch? You're both pretty good at it.” You say while you put the last safety pins on the red blazer you made.

The girls found themselves in your dorm with snacks and drinks around them. You all sit on the floor in a circle while they help you put the finishing touches on your project. Aka, what their dad will wear on the runway. After you cried buckets full of tears in front of them, you insisted that you pay for their dinner as compensation for making them hear all your woes. Which they declined, instead they asked if they could lighten the load for you by helping with your project which was probably fifty percent of your problems. So, with slight reluctance, you ordered food to go and the three of you clicked together like you've known eachother since childhood. Well, that was the case for the girls.

“Our mum did. Dad helped too.” Mona smiles, hands pausing from the lace she's stitching together.

“They sound like cool parents then.” You smile back sweetly, “sewing is a necessary skill.”

“Oh we know.” Billie says, referring to all the times you had to sew Hobie's wounds close even before they were born. Mona nudges her, giving her a ‘shut up’ look.

You smile gently at them, and they miss you dearly from that smile. The second they get home they're gonna hug you immediately. And maybe their dad too after they glare at him for a minute.

“You two are twins right?” You laugh awkwardly, “I didn't want to ask back at the bus stop, it might've been too obvious.”

“Yep, unfortunately I didn't absorb her in the womb.” Billie jokes while she paints the white t-shirt with a graffiti style design.

“Oi!” Mona scolds her sister but her grin betrays her. “You stole my joke.”

Giggling, you lay the blazer down flatly to double check your stitches. “I've always wanted a twin you know, it's like having a forever best friend. You two get along so well.”

“I think you already have a forever best friend.” Billie says softly.

You mirror her smile, hands playing with your cherry earrings. “Yeah, I guess I do have one already.” You look like you're in deep thought. “I saw you two talking to Hobie, how'd you know the guy I was talking about was him?”

“Uh,” Mona sucks in her teeth. “He seems like your type? I mean judging from how you talked about him.” She sounds unsure.

“Was I that obvious?” Thankfully, you buy it. They sigh in relief. “What did you three talk about? If you don't mind me asking.”

“We don't mind.” Billie leans back against your bed, grabbing her soda cup to sip while you wait for them to speak about the conversation they had. “We just talked ‘bout you, nothin' bad don't worry. We just told him to apologize, and he asked about you actually.”

Your eyes light up before faltering, “he did?”

“Yeah, he looked apologetic. He says he's gonna keep tryin' to talk to you, but he also says he'll give you some time for a bit.” Mona continues for her sister. “He was askin' if you were alright, if you were sleepin’ and eatin' okay.”

Your cheeks heat up while your eyes brim with tears again. The girls can tell that you missed him a lot. “If you see him again, can you tell him that I'm trying too? And that he's right, I think I need a bit of time to gather my complicated thoughts.”

“You can say it yourself durin’ the show.” Billie's smile grows into a smirk, knowing what happens during the said fashion show. “He said he'll be there.”

The perks of having enhanced abilities is feeling what people's emotions are like. Kind of like their spidey senses telling them if the person in front of them is angry enough to attack or when exactly to comfort someone. But this time it's neither of those things, they sense that your heart is thudding loudly against your ribcage, and that your hands are suddenly sweaty, and that your cheeks are practically on fire from the simple words, complete with butterflies flying in your stomach.

They felt the same thing with Hobie while talking to him. They chalked the quick heartbeat and sweaty palms were from the new powers that are still taking hold of him. But the butterflies and how he tenderly looked at you do not lie. He's unquestionably, unequivocally in love with you just like how you're absolutely lovestruck by your best friend.

Both girls think that there's no danger of them fading away into nothingness knowing that you two won't let go of your feelings for the other. All they have to do now is to help you finish your project and wait for Ned to complete their watch. For now, they'll keep you company in your cramped dorm that they've heard a lot of stories about during their childhood.

“Now let's finish this masterpiece for the love of your life, hm?”

—

You try to sneak out of your dorm room at the crack of dawn. The three of you chatted until Billie fell asleep on your desk, to which Mona apologized on her behalf. She was about to wake her up but you stopped them, telling them that it's alright for them to stay the night if they called their parents beforehand, and that they'd stay quiet so that your R.A wouldn't kick them out. You didn't want them commuting this late at night. You even considered calling Yuri to borrow her car and drive them back home, which the girls refused since if they see another person they care about in the present here, they would've balled their eyes out.

Mona, with her quick thinking, dialed a ‘fake’ number in your landline, your number in the present. She imagined that she was talking to you even though you're technically in the same room with her. She even asked how her dad and brother were in the so-called conversation. She missed her family dearly. Billie heard it all while she was half asleep, her head hidden on her arms cushioning her head, eyes starting to blur as she remembered your promise to them before they fell back in time.

As the girls slept in your bunk, you tiptoe over all the mess the three of you made. Scraps of fabric lay about, various colours of thread roll around the floor as you quietly pack the finished outfit in a box. With one last look at the leather vest you painstakingly made, you shut the box closed, tied it with a ribbon and wrote your message on the back of a starbucks reward card.

You almost made it out without waking either one of them, but the creaking door woke both of them up with a start. Ramona thinks that it's their spidey senses rousing them from their sleep.

“Where are you goin'?” Mona blearily asks, one eye cracked open.

“Sorry,” you wince, “I was just dropping this off at Hobie's place. Go back to sleep, I'll get breakfast for you two as thanks for helping.”

“Nah, we're comin' with.” Billie, forgetting that she's on the top bunk, falls face first.

“Oh fuck!” You panic, walking quickly towards her while Mona helps her sister up. Billie's giggles echo around the room, and you're definitely sure that the whole building heard the thud.

“‘m okay,” she yawns as Mona rolls her over to face the ceiling. “Jus’ fine, mon-mon.”

You and Mona both sigh in relief. “You sure? I can take you to the hospital? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” You hold up a fist in front of her.

“None, that's your fist.” She swipes your hand away. Sitting up, she blinks all the sleep away while Mona tamps down her laughter. “You said breakfast right?”

—

After eating a breakfast sandwich, the three of you walk and chat as you cross the street towards Hobie's houseboat where it’s currently docked.

“Our brother's a little shit sometimes but we love him.” Billie sips at her cooling tea, letting the warming air flutter her lashes.

“Mm-hmm,” Mona is still chewing on the last bite of her sandwich. “He likes monster trucks and playin’ the drums. On his 7th birthday, our parents got him a drum kit with monster trucks painted on it.”

You giggle, box in hand that feels heavier with every step you get closer to Hobie's place. “He's definitely not gonna regret the monster truck design when he's older.” You say with sarcasm.

“I think he's already regrettin’ it, Y/N.” Billie isn't used to calling you by your first name, it feels wrong but it's inaccurate (and weird) if she calls you mum when she's only a few years younger than you. Technically.

You stop mid step, eyes roaming around the houseboat docked on the side. Both girls remember it from old photos of when they were still toddlers waddling around the houseboat. They remember that they used to love the place, no matter how small it was. To them, it was their castle. Their home on the water where they said their first word, and celebrated all their firsts.

“Oh,” Billie seems to have the same nostalgia brought sadness when she sees it floating. She grabs Mona by her arms, face placed on her bicep. “Is it just me or do I suddenly miss this boat?” She whispers.

Mona pats her back, “not just you, Bee, I forgot how much I missed this place.” She blinks and you're gone from her side. “Wait, where's—?”

Billie turns around, spotting you hiding behind a tree, and clutching the box to your chest. You lock eyes with her, shaking your head and pursing your lips.

The twins look at each other before walking towards you. “You okay?” Mona asks you, brows knitted together at your sniffing.

“I don't think I can face him.”

Billie understood your feelings. She has an idea as she peeks behind the tree to take a look at the houseboat.

“How ‘bout I do it for you then? I won't talk to him, I'll just leave the box at his doorstep, no problemo.”

“Can you? Please?” You're already handing the box with shaky hands.

Billie meets with Mona's eyes, her sister nods, agreeing that her idea was for the best.

“Right, don't worry I'll do it quickly he won't even hear me.”

“Be careful, the floor is very slippery when wet. I don't want you to fall in the water.” You say with a wobbly smile. “And thank you, Milly.”

“It's alright.” Billie walks briskly towards the boat, making sure not to make any sound with every footstep as you and Mona watch from behind the tree.

Billie leaps over the boat effortlessly, boots barely making a squeak. As she tiptoes over to the door, her senses perk up. The hair on the back of her neck stiffens, while her ears pick up the unmistakable sound of her dad's footsteps. With wide eyes, she makes her escape.

Mona senses it too, silently beckoning her twin over to their hiding spot before Hobie could open the door.

Just as Billie’s hand grasps Mona's, yanking her behind the tree, the door opens with a creak. And out comes Hobie stumbling on his feet as he skids to a stop, almost trampling over the box. His eyes roam around the area, flicking left and right for your familiar face. Finding no one, he sighs and picks up the box gingerly. Once he reads the note you left, his eyes soften, glimmering in the early morning light as he gets back inside with his shoulders slumped over.

You finally exhale when you heard the door closed. You didn't have the heart to peek behind the tree to look at him, lest you run to his arms and let out all the words you wanted to say.

“I'm sorry you had to do that for me.” You say and you see them whispering amongst each other. “Oh, do you two need to go?”

“Yeah,” Billie closes the distance, “we need to check on somethin’ but we'll be back to see your show.” She hugs you suddenly, and you hug back before she lets go of you, but not without her signature smile.

“That would be great, you get to see the clothes you helped make.” You pat her back kindly.

Mona waits on the side, you see her casually waiting and you immediately open your arms to her. “Thank you, Eunice.” Her lips wobble for a second, she embraces you before you could see her tears flow that she immediately wipes away.

“You're welcome. I know you'll kill it.”

“I hope so, before it kills me.” You joke as you hold her at arm's length. “I'll see you two at the show then?”

Holding each of their hands, you beam at them. And both girls have the urge to hug you again. They don't, knowing that they'll be home before they know it and embrace the real deal by then.

“We'll see you there.” They say simultaneously.

You giggle, “twin telepathy.” They wave goodbye to you, now knowing a different side of you.

—

Billie and Ramona got the right parts for Ned to fix the watch which needed an entire day for him to finish. Mona helped in assembling the parts while Billie made sure everything in the interdimensional watch worked by poking and prodding each individual screw and notches if it sparked or not. If there's sparks, the power is working normally in that section of the watch, if not, Ned and Mona had to rearrange the whole thing again.

Shadowing over their dad's work table while he assembles gadgets since before they could even talk actually helped. They can't wait to show all the work they've done and accomplished to their dad. Hobie would be proud of them persevering through all the shocks and mechanical hisses the old watch emanated.

Ned was terrified out of his mind though, there was real danger of him accidentally blowing up his new flat together with a couple of strangers that he has grown to know through the assembly of the ‘intergalactic’ gadget.

“Shit!” Mona wakes up from her nap in the guest bedroom that the twins have called their own for the past day or so. “Bee!” She pats her side, finding her sister snoring under the covers. Flinging the blanket, she shakes her awake. “Wake the fuck up! We're gonna miss mum's show!” With a kick to Billie's leg, she sits up with a startle.

“Oi! What the fuck!”

“Get up! We need to see them before we go!” Mona's already fixing her appearance in the mirror, and then she quickly folds the blanket and makes the bed while Billie groggily walks around the room to grab her shoes.

“Calm down, uncle Ned still hasn't finished the last bits. D’you want us explodin’ in the portal?”

“No, but I don't want to miss the show. It's the event that started it all, Bee.” Mona walks in front of Billie to fix her shirt for her. “Besides, we need to make sure it goes as planned. If dad doesn't show up and confesses backstage we're basically fucked.”

Billie yawns, “yeah, I forgot all ‘bout the space time continuum.” Her sister grabs her hand as she yanks the door open, almost breaking its hinges apart. “Careful!”

“Sorry!” As they leave, Ned does a double take.

“Wait, where are you going?” He asks, jittering from the fifth cup of coffee he had in the past twelve hours.

They stop in their tracks, “uh, we're gonna go see a fashion show?”

“Huh?” Ned makes a face, “without your watch?” He fishes the finished watch from his pocket, showing it off to them.

“No shit?” Billie guffaws, taking the watch gingerly in her palms like holding a precious stone.

“Yes shit.” Ned grins, “just finished it a few minutes ago. You're good to go.”

Mona laughs, wide eyed at her uncle. “You're bloody brilliant, Ned Leeds.”

He shrugs, “I should say the same thing to you two. I guess it runs in the blood eh?” The twins look at him with their mouths agape. “I would drive you but I can't see straight right now. There's three of you.” Laughing, he sits down on the couch with a groan, eyes growing heavy.

The girls smile kindly at him, Ramona puts on the watch on her wrist, its metal is shiny and new but Hobie's stickers and design still remains in the wrist strap. It blinks and boops on her wrist, more than ready to go home.

“Thank you, mortal.” Billie still plays with the bit, even making a peace sign at him while they leave.

“Yeah yeah,” Ned grins tiredly at them, waving them out of his house. “say hi to your mum and dad for me, yeah?”

They turn their heads towards him lightning quick. But by the time they stare at him with surprised faces, he's already snoring on the couch.

“We need to give him a really nice gift on his birthday when we get back.” Billie says with a laugh. Shutting the doors closed, they make their way to the bus stop with one destination in mind.

—

They make it in time. The venue was packed, and the runway was in full swing with various models strutting their stuff on the raised platform.

As they push through the front towards the backstage, they see another familiar face in the audience, your old professor that always sends them gifts during their birthdays without fail. The girls only met her one time during their fifth birthday, and they only heard stories about her from you but they feel a kinship with her ever since the old professor was in your life. Without her near impossible project, you and their dad wouldn't have gotten together and pushed through the boundaries to be together.

Billie waves at her with a grin, followed by Mona who even greets her politely. Mrs. Williams creases her perfect brows together at the two strangers, but thinks nothing of it as she continues to grade her students.

With a push of the curtains, they see you pacing along the floor alone, clearly nervous out of your mind while you keep looking back at the double doors. Hoping to see Hobie suddenly appear.

“Shit, did we fuck up?” Billie grasps her sister's shoulder while they peek their heads through the curtains.

Mona heaves, panic settling in her stomach. “I—”

She gets cut off before she could even say another word. The doors burst open, flying off the hinges to reveal Hobie in his outfit that you painstakingly made. The twins almost squeal in place, but they clamp down their mouths shut in case they disturb you and their dad.

“This is it.” Mona grabs Billie's hand, and they look at eachother with an excited grin.

“Hobie?” You ask, chest heaving, palms clammy.

Instead of Hobie grabbing your face and kissing you until you're breathless, he passes by you to get to the runway. The girls sees your posture deflate, face in pure disbelief and confusion.

“What?” Mona watches you in place while Billie can't believe her eyes while she follows where her dad is heading.

Hobie struts down the runway like he owns the place. Billie had to move her sister's head to make her look at their supposed silly dad making the runway his. Their eyes grow wide while camera flashes go off around him, which doesn't even faze him one bit, not while you're waiting at the end of the runway. As he heads back towards you, his fake model façade fades.

“Hobie, I—!” You say, and you're met with his lips upon your own.

With the closing of the runway, Hobie finally crosses the line he has been threading through for years.

When you kiss back, both Billie and Mona back away with their eyes closed but smiles on their faces.

They laugh with tears in their eyes, then with a hug, they leave the venue out into the sun. Hand in hand, they punch the right codes into the present.

“Ready?” Mona asks.

“Just press the bloody button, Mon-mon.”

A kaleidoscope of light appears, showering them in warmth, and down they go without wasting another second.

—

“Do you have your sisters’ ice cream?” You pat your son's head, and he hums against his ice cream cone, cheeks painted with caramel while showing you the plastic bag in his other hand. “You need a haircut, baby.” Giggling, Hobie opens the front door for you. “What a gentleman.”

Hobie points at his lips with a playful glint in his eyes. “Payment.”

You feign a sigh, “chivalry is dead, I guess.” And yet, you still give him a chaste kiss, tasting the cherry he plucked from your sundae.

A thud interrupts your tender gazes, and you instinctively look at your youngest, finding him all wide eyed and ice cream forgotten as he looks at the house.

“You okay there, little man?” Hobie asks, crouching down. He rubs his back and follows his gaze. Whistling out, he sees the entire house perfectly decorated for Halloween. Orange and purple streamers were strewn about the staircase, pumpkins and blackcats are placed in the same spot you always put them in. Plastic bats, gaudy string lights and knitted skeletons that you made while pregnant with your youngest, decorate your shared home. The girls definitely did their job perfectly, but they're nowhere to be seen.

You clutch onto Hobie, cheek pressed on his bicep, gawking at the decorated living room. “They even found the skeletons we thought were missing.”

Hobie chuckles, pecking the top of your head while his arm wraps around your middle and his free hand placed atop his son's head. “And even dressed the skeletons in my clothes.”

“They found Bilbo!” Your son runs off towards the mechanical witch that cackles when it detects movement. Somehow that one is his favourite.

“Mac and cheese, where are you?” Hobie calls for them, hand in hand with you while you two search the first floor of the house. Reaching the kitchen, roaming his eyes around, he just sees empty pumpkin shaped bowls on the counter and not a sign from either one of his girls. “Where—?” He jumps when he sees someone crawling on the ceiling towards him. “Fuck!” Yelling, he pushes you behind him to shield you from the ‘danger.’

Guffaws echo as Billie reveals herself, flinging her hair away to show her face. “I got you!” Giggling, she drops down on the floor, landing elegantly on her feet, and then beelining to embrace you and Hobie. She can finally hold you, the you that she knows and loves.

“Takin’ advantage of my lack of spidey senses for you and your sister, huh?” Hobie says, hugging her back with a heavy peck on the crown of her head.

“You and your sister did such a good job, Bee!” You rub her back while she hides her face on your shoulder, hiding her tears from you. Your mum senses tingle, “you okay, baby?”

Billie sniffs, leaning away briefly. “Yeah, I just missed you both so much.”

“We were only gone for an hour, Mac. Did somethin’ happen?” Hobie wipes away a stray tear from her cheek, worrying more when Mona is still nowhere to be found. “Where's your sister?”

An upside down face suddenly pops down from the ceiling in front of Hobie's face, making him jump away. “That's for mum!” She points accusingly at Hobie while she somersaults back on the ground.

Hobie holds his chest, “what did I do?!”

Ramona ignores him for a moment. “Hi, mum.” Embracing you, she rubs her face against your shoulder, trying hard not to sob in front of you.

“Hi, baby, why is everyone crying today, huh? You're gonna make me cry too.” You hold her cheeks, and then you kiss her forehead sweetly. Reaching for Billie, she immediately latches herself onto you, and you smother them both in kisses.

Hobie watches on with a tender smile, Mona beckons him over and he obliges as Mona detaches herself from you to hug him properly. He cups her jaw, looking at her eyes that's near identical to yours. “You okay, my toyota corolla?”

Ramona giggles, sniffing, and hugging him again with her arms around his neck. “Never better, dad.”

You smile, meeting Hobie's eyes, with your own shining with happy tears. He walks over to you and Billie with Mona in tow, hobbling over to you while he doesn't let go of her.

“Aww group hug!” You say, making it a mission to smooch each of their cheeks including Hobie's, who's always glad to receive them.

“We still haven't decorated the outside yet!” Billie shrieks as Hobie blows raspberries on her temple.

“We'll do that later, yeah?” Hobie leans away, admiring you and his girls with a tender smile. He wraps his arms around everyone as best as he can, almost carrying the three of you as he slowly twirls the group in place in the home that he made with you.

You and Hobie will ask about what happened later, and maybe they even have a story to tell for you two. But for now, you hold them in your arms, squeezing them affectionately.

There's clattering behind you, and you see your youngest covered in fake spider webs, with a confused look on his face that's a carbon copy of his dad's face.

“What did I miss?”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | three.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, general bioengineering project descriptions/terms, very vague mention of mice research work, mentions of a lil cut (nothing graphic), a lil more oc x san!!, oc x san being subtle with their actions - they're def feeling each other/checking each other out tho lol, suave sexy san!!, jongho is onto him oop 🤨, it builds up from here i prawwwmise!

When Sunwoo said he needed help, he truly meant it. A few weeks into the new quarter, you find yourself hustling in the lab in between your class schedule. You do enjoy it though, and you find that you still have time to carve out for your friends and nights out. But, you do feel your workload slowly increasing just because Sunwoo is trying to make significant progress with his project— a project that you hope to build off if you were to fully join Professor Choi's lab. A project that would hopefully get your name on another published paper, too. And, you weren't gonna lie, you wanted to do your best and work extra hard because you needed Professor Choi to see that you fit perfectly in his lab. You needed to show him that this wasn't any ordinary research work to you and that you weren't just winging your time here, especially after he gave you that friendly but stern pep talk during your kick-off meeting with him, Belle and Sunwoo.

—FLASHBACK

"Hey." Professor Choi says while sitting in his chair. The three of you walk in, with Sunwoo plopping himself down on his couch, and you and Belle sitting at the two seats in front of his desk. "How's everyone doing?" He asks while typing away, huge Mac screen taking up the corner of his desk with his laptop connected on a laptop stand.

"Good!" You all say in your own ways.

"How about you, Professor Choi?" Sunwoo leans back onto the couch.

"Mm." He hums. "Good as can be, I guess. Can't complain." He chuckles, now fully shifting his attention to you three. "So! How'd the talk go?"

"Well, I think Y/N would work well with my project. There's so many avenues she could piggyback off of if she joins the lab afterwards that'll help contribute to a lot of the dynamic foraging, brain-wide neural dynamics work we've been doing." You watch as Professor Choi nods in agreement, now looking at you and Belle.

"She could also help with the lab-wide project I've been heading and some other 2-photon and KCR work." 

"Sounds good with me. What about you, Y/N?" He leans onto his desk, eyes glued on you while his hands are clasped together. You lick your lips and nod, nervous that all the attention is on you especially from Professor Choi. You feel like he's burning holes into you, and you can't help but feel incredibly intimidated. 

"Yeah, that sounds awesome. I'm on board with Sunwoo and Belle's plans. I'm excited to dive in." He smiles at you.

"Cool. I think we'll get some great work done during your rotation." He turns to Sunwoo. "Sunwoo, can I trust you to take care of Y/N's badge access and getting her set up with everything she needs?"

"For sure!"

"Thanks." Professor Choi stands. "And just cause I have to lay this out there, there are some expectations I hold for the people in my lab— regardless if you're a rotation student, postdoc, undergrad, staff. It doesn't matter. I expect the highest performance out of everybody, and I want my people to succeed no matter how long it takes. I expect my people to do nothing but the best and I need that to show in everything you do. Presentations. Data. Papers. Everything. I don't want anyone to settle for less than that, and you have my support every step of the way."

"Of course, noted."

"We have lab meetings every Monday at 9am up on the third floor of the south wing. I'll get you on the schedule so you can do your rotation update towards the end of the quarter."

"Journal club!" Sunwoo says, making Professor Choi laugh. "One of us!"

"Yeah, we'll get you to do a journal club presentation too." He tucks his hands in his pockets.

"Professor Choi gets us free hot breakfast for lab meetings." Belle puts her hand on your arm as you all stand and start to get ready to leave. "It's so good." You giggle.

"So, all good? We're all onboard?" You three turn to Professor Choi and nod. "Nice. Welcome to the lab, Y/N." He flashes you a smile that only you catch, a look that only you see. Like it was meant to be that way.

Your time in Professor Choi's lab will be an interesting one.

—END

"Hey." You pull out a seat and plop onto the chair, sipping on the drink you just ordered.

"Hey pretty!" Eunchae giggles, while Felix, Jiung and Jurin wave.

"Where have you been?" Felix asks, poking at your bicep.

"Shuffling between class and lab." You let out a breath, bottom lip poking out into a pout.

"She's rotating in Professor Choi's lab." Jiung looks at Jurin.

"San?" You nod. "Damn, goodluck!" Jurin chimes in and you shake your head. "He's a hottie."

"Here we go." Felix snorts.

"I mean, are we wrong?" She looks at him and playfully nudges his side, causing him to groan in response. 

"I never said you were wrong!" Eunchae giggles at his pained response. "That's just the hot topic on campus. Him and his friends."

"So hot. They deserve to be the talk on campus." Eunchae rests her chin on the palm of her hand. "How has it been in his lab?"

"It's been good! Just really fucking busy. Sunwoo is like.. at the peak of his project. He'll probably try to submit his paper within the year or something if all goes well."

"Fun times." Jiung looks at you while sipping on his smoothie. "You going back to lab after?"

"Yup!"

"I gotta head back, too." Felix says. 

"Same. I gotta run my gels." Eunchae adds.

"What about you?"

"Not today." Jiung responds. "I have a paper I need to start already for one of my classes. I've just been trying to troubleshoot some of the lasers in the lab for the other Professor Choi so I'm not entirely busy yet." You nod, checking your apple watch to peep the time. "Are you guys gonna be able to catch dinner later?"

"I should be."

"Yeah, same."

"Mm. I dunno." You tilt your head. "You can probably go without me and I'll catch up if I can."

"Sheesh, really putting you to work already."

"Yup." You sigh, finishing up your drink and your snack box full of cheese, grapes and crackers. "Anyway, I gotta get going. I told Sunwoo I'd try and fix our behavior rig today so we can start utilizing it soon."

"Text us if you'll be able to join dinner and we'll wait!" Jurin yells before you wave them off and start making your way back to the Harvey Center to finish up your tasks in lab. Part of you really wanted to stay with your friends and hang out for the rest of the afternoon, but you had promised Sunwoo you'd take the time to fix the behavior rig he had been working on for the past month. He just hasn't had the bandwidth to focus on it lately, so having you is tremendous help for him. 

When you get to the lab, there's still quite a few people lingering around in the office area in the basement, surprisingly. You pop over to their desks for small talk, getting to know the people in the lab and the projects they're working on. Most are situated at their desks, analyzing their data and coding between two monitor screens. Everyone's equally nice and passionate about what they do, it makes the environment less stressful knowing it's collaborative and engaging instead of being in a competitive nature. Belle pulls you aside to get your help just as Sunwoo is packing up for the day and thanking you for your help with the behavior rig. She takes about an hour or so of your time, giving you a quick rundown of the procedures she's working on and what you could help with in the next few weeks. It's after your time with Belle that you finally get to sit down at your desk and focus on the rig sitting on top of it. You don't think it'll take much time, and you feel like you'll actually be able to catch dinner with your friends.

Until you realize how difficult it is get everything situated on the breadboard properly. 

San hums as he walks through the cold air, pacing towards the Harvey Center to get to his office. He's just had a good workout at the faculty lounge, and he doesn't expect too many people [if any] to be lingering around in the open office space of the lab. He knows people are cooped up in their own laser or behavior rooms right now, and it's not even the first time he'll be strolling in casual clothes. He tries to keep himself clean and pressed down, but he too, has his days where he just wants to head to work in some jeans. A tshirt. Hoodie.

Right now, the cold is pricking his skin because he's in a black Nike dry fit shirt and sweats. He's running to the office to finish up a few last minute things before heading home and relaxing. As expected, the hallway feels eerily quiet. He assumes there could be one or two people locked away in the rooms, but he won't bother. When he gets into the office space, he doesn't see anyone in particular until he turns the corner towards his office and finds you sitting at your desk in the corner. The computer screen is pretty bright, and you've got your hands tied with a rig. 

He definitely wasn't expecting you to be here.

"Fuuuck." He hears you slightly whine when the small allen wrench in your hand slips and tumbles to the floor, followed by a few screws sitting on your desk.

"Hey Y/N, you okay?" San asks, dropping his duffle bag right in front of his office door before slowly walking over to you. You look up in surprise, eyes quickly scanning Professor Choi in his casual outfit. You're stunned at how good he looks in something so simple, how big and defined his arms are in that tight shirt; he looks so good you almost forget to respond.

He sure as hell catches on though, a tiny smirk growing at the corner of his lips.

"Oh, yeah. I'm trying to unscrew this but Sunwoo's got it in there tightly. I'm afraid I'm weak." He laughs and shakes his head.

"Nah. You're not weak." He picks up the allen wrench from the floor. "Which one?"

"This." You point. "And this too, while you're at it." He chuckles.

"You got it, boss." San angles himself closer to you, face only inches away from yours when he dips to get a better look. You watch as his arm muscles flex when he gets the wrench in there and starts undoing the screw, loosening it in a matter of seconds. "I'll let you do the rest." He moves onto the next and loosens it shortly after. When he finishes, his face is only inches away from yours and he keeps a hold there. He's looking at you again, really looking at you, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. You're not sure what else to do besides nibble on your bottom lip.

"Thank you." You manage to choke out. He gives you a soft smile before handing you the allen wrench and standing fully upright.

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" 

"Um, no. I didn't." San looks at your hand a little further and notices the fresh scratch near your pinky— probably due to your hand slipping from the force, scratching it against one of the mounts sitting on the board. 

"I didn't expect you to lie to me so quickly." He teases, slight whine in his tone while he clicks his teeth. "Can I see?" You show him your hand. "Come to my office, got some ointment for it." He nods towards his door and leads the way. San could damn well show you to the lab's first aid kit down the hall, but his office is much closer and he'd feel a bit better than just sending you off to fend for yourself. 

"Professor Choi, I can just find the—" Before you can finish your sentence, he's already swinging his door open and holding it open for you.

"It's much quicker than heading down the hall to the first aid kit." He laughs a bit. You give him a tiny smile as you brush past and walk into his office, feeling a bit awkward being in his private space for something as little as a cut. You fiddle with your fingers as he places his duffle bag down onto the couch before grabbing the first aid kit in one of the drawers near his desk. He grabs a small pack of ointment and a bandaid, approaching you in the middle of the room. "Mind if I..?"

"Not at all." You leave out your hand for Professor Choi to take and he gently tugs it closer. He applies the ointment on your scab, dabbing it lightly across the surface before grabbing the bandaid and placing it on top. 

"There."

"Thank you, Professor Choi."

"You're welcome. Be careful next time. Make sure Sunwoo does the heavy lifting."

"I know. He's good help. I just figured I'd help him get a head start." San gives you a small smile. "Mind if I ask? What're you doing here later in the evening?"

"Sometimes, I just stay to get my work done. Can't always rely on my home office to keep me productive." He chuckles. "Plus, I get my workouts in at the faculty lounge." You nod.

"I see."

"How long have you been in the lab today?"

"I've been in and out in between classes."

"You haven't eaten dinner?"

"Nope. Dining hall doesn't close until 9pm, though." San looks at the time on his computer.

"Which is getting pretty close. You should wrap it up." You look at him with a small pout and it feels too difficult having to keep his composure while you keep looking at him like that. His eyes quickly dip to the low cut shirt you're wearing before he manages to divert his attention back up to your eyes. The tension is palpable, but you don't say anything. Even if you caught it, even if you wanna tease him a little. You try to stick to your own lane in case all of this is pure delusion. 

You're so fucking pretty, though. It's bad for San. 

Unhealthy.

"I mean, don't get me wrong. It's nice knowing you're working hard in the lab." He follows up with a laugh. "But, you should also get some time in for yourself. Rest and eat well. You can always come back to the work tomorrow."

"What if I fall behind?"

"There's no such thing on falling behind if you're constantly working on so many different aspects, Y/N. Plus, it's not gonna be perfect. You'll have days that're slow, that'll feel like you aren't getting much out of your project. But, I promise it picks up again and things will come out of it regardless."

"Noted." You smile at him. "I appreciate that."

"How about I finish up in there and we head out together? I'd really hate to leave you here in the office alone, especially if I don't have to." You look at him and even though everything inside of you is fighting, pleading, to say no, you end up with—

"Okay." You softly respond. "I'm gonna go clean up."

"Sounds good. I'll be out in a minute." He gives you that look again and you hate that you don't know if he looks at everyone else like this or just you. You eye him once more even as he's turned towards his desk checking his phone before you head out of his office and to your desk. You did make good progress on the rig, which you know Sunwoo would be grateful about. The only thing he needs to do is add the part he created the other day, a tube where the mouse would be situated for lick behavior tests.

Meanwhile, San plops onto his computer chair and pulls up his emails, looping in the appropriate people to help fix certain issues. He's got a few emails regarding just-in-time information needed for the grants he's been re-applying for, making a mental note to hop on a quick meeting with the people involved so they can get their reports and data together and send it off in a timely manner.

It never ends, he thinks. 

All is his life consists of now is work. The lab. Collaborating in various projects across departments. Working out. Sometimes, San wishes there was something else he could look forward to. Something else that could take time out of his day, something that he could put his attention to. Something like—

jongho: still on campus?

He turns to his phone when the text tone goes off, seeing the message from Jongho. San quickly checks the time and finishes up the last email he was working on before he got distracted.

san: yeah, gonna head out tho. just working on some last min urgent emails that came in.

jongho: wanna grab something to eat? i'll meet you at your car

san: alright, give me like 10 mins. 

San sends off his last few emails before checking his calendar for tomorrow's meetings. He has a virtual talk after class that he needs to prep for, which he'll do later tonight. Plus, he'll need to gather that information for the grants. Just thinking about it makes San breathe out a heavy sigh, slightly feeling overwhelmed at his never-ending to-do list.

Yeah, a new hobby or distraction would be nice.

"Ready?" You turn to see Professor Choi locking up his office, duffle bag slung on his shoulder. When he's done, he turns and gives you a small smile; patiently waiting for you to be ready. You nod, locking your computer and grabbing your things before walking out behind him.

"So, do you always work out in the evenings?"

"I try to, yeah." You look up at him while he walks alongside of you. "Helps me release steam from all the stuff going on."

"I can only imagine." You tug on your bag strap. "I don't know how you do it with your busy schedule."

"I'm not too busy." He says in a playful tone. "Just enough."

"Sure." You laugh. "Everyone knows how busy and occupied you are, Professor Choi."

"What if everyone just hypes me up too much and has the wrong idea about me?"

"I doubt that."

"How would you know, hm?" He smiles when he presses the elevator door. 

"Oh, please. I never not see you in a meeting or talking to someone, or doing a talk somewhere." You slip into the elevator with him. He rests against the rail on the opposite side from where you stand, fully facing you. "You even did that episode not too long ago for Professor Young's podcast."

"Wow, you really keep up, don't you?"

"How could I not?" He chuckles.

"That's nice to know that you do." He means it. As much as he loves when people treat him like a regular person, he also loves it when people keep up with his projects. His papers. His talks. He's not gonna lie; it is an ego boost, and he likes knowing that people take time out of their day because they're interested in hearing what he has to say or what he's working on now.

It's definitely nice coming from you.

You quietly stand off to the side, watching as the elevator takes you from the basement to floor 1 of the building. San is subtly eyeing you from where he stands, noticing how you keep to yourself and shift your weight between your feet in some kind of anxious move to get off of the elevator. You can barely look him in the eye and he thinks it's cute.

"What're your plans after you get dinner, Y/N?" He breaks the silence as you step out of the elevator and out of the building. The night isn't too chilly— the stars are dotting the sky beautifully, crickets are beginning to chirp. There aren't too many people moving across campus anymore, which is the usual at this time. Most are huddled up in lab if they're the working night-owl type, or resting at their dorms or apartments to get ready for the next day.

"Finish my loads of homework and try to hang out with my friends for a bit if we all aren't too tired."

"That's nice, minus the homework part." You giggle.

"What about you? If you don't mind me asking." He smiles.

"I don't. I'm just gonna meet up with the other Professor Choi and grab dinner with him."

"You two are close, yeah?" He nods.

"Yup."

"That's cute." 

"Is it?" He asks in a playful, sing-song way that has you shifting your attention to your feet to bite back a huge smile.

"It is. Very." You finally look up at him and meet his eyes. "By the way, I hope I'm not making you walk extra steps tonight." You point at the dining hall just down the path. "I can take it from here if you need to get to your car or meet him somewhere else."

"It's alright, I parked right over here." He nods towards the parking garage coming up on the left. "Easiest garage to find parking at."

"Works out then." You give him a tiny, toothless smile.

"Your friends are able to join you for dinner, right?"

"Should be. I'll call them in a few." You pause in your steps when the garage is directly to the left now. "Thanks for walking me, Professor Choi."

"You sure you don't need me to walk you towards the end of the path?"

"All good. I'm a big girl." He laughs.

"Yeah." He's doing that thing again. That thing where he just looks at you with a certain glint in his eye— a certain glint that makes you overthink, makes you wonder if he does this with everyone he comes across, or if it's just you. 

"Goodnight, I hope you have a good dinner."

"You too." You give him one last smile and wave before you start walking towards the dining hall, creating more distance between you two. You don't catch the way he continues to watch you until you've managed to cross the street and approach the dining hall— phone pressed against your ear because he assumes you're calling up your friends to meet you.

When he feels comfortable to take his eyes off of you, he crosses the way to the garage and starts walking towards his car that's sitting on the current ground level, Jongho patiently leaning against the tail end of it.

"Uh." Jongho laughs. "The hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"I saw you from here, don't try and be slick on me now." 

"It was nothing?" San pops open his trunk and tosses his duffle bag in.

"Didn't look like it." Jongho snorts.

"Y/N was just in lab and I didn't want her to leave alone."

"Your rotation student?"

"Mhm."

"Okay. I'm all for being a gentleman but be careful." He gives him a look.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I've known you for years, bro. There's a certain look in your eyes and it doesn't exactly scream 'nothing.'" 

"Well, it is." Is all San says. He doesn't really have anything else to say because he doesn't wanna sound like he's defending himself way too much when he doesn't need to. He knows better. Maybe. Hopefully.

"Aye." Jongho shrugs. "Want you to be happy but just keep it safe, yeah? You've worked really hard for everything you have."

"I know." San lets out a breath. "Anyway, where do you wanna go for dinner?"

"Happy hour at the bar nearby? I can be passenger princess, or if you really want, we can drive separately to make it easier. I guess." He playfully huffs, making San chuckle.

"Just get in." 

On the way to the bar, Jongho gives San more details about the collaboration and that the group is incredibly interested in moving forward. San nods, agreeing that it would be good for them and everyone involved both funding-wise and opportunity-wise. Jongho then tells San about his recent grants that were finally accepted and re-awarded, giving him a little more leeway to purchase new equipment he's been having his eyes on for Jiung and a few other of his lab members to toy around with. There's a certain idea that's been floating in his head for awhile now, one that San honestly doesn't understand much about because electrical engineering is a whole other beast to him. He gets the gist, and he knows Jongho has only done incredibly work, continuing to one-up himself every single time he comes back around with a new idea.

"So, there's another thing I've been thinking about." Jongho says, as they finally arrive to the sports bar and follow the host to a table on the back patio. 

"Should I be scared?" San asks as they sit and immediately order their go-to beers and the karaage they love so much. 

"I was thinking of asking the dean for some real estate at the new campus building."

"Bartlett Hall? The one that just finished construction?" Jongho nods.

"Mhmmm." He responds in a sing-song tone. "I briefly mentioned it to him in passing and he told me we'd talk more, but was hoping to get you onboard, too."

"Why me?" San laughs, picking at a piece of karaage with a toothpick before popping it into his mouth. Before San can hear Jongho's reasoning, the server comes back to take their orders. They both order different burgers, planning to exchange a half for the other. 

"Was thinking we could open the joint department together, finally have a space for us to combine our work in electrical engineering and bioengineering." San pokes out his bottom lip and nods.

"Sooo, we'd have to write a whole pitch and sell it to the dean?"

"Yeah basically, but we can run it by Namjoon first and see what he says."

"I'm down. I dunno if the dean will budge without implementing certain requirements from our end, but, I'm down to try."

"Yeah?" Jongho laughs. "Glad to hear you're down. It'll be good! I've been thinking about it for awhile but I was always hesitant. Think it's probably just best to take the leap. Worst thing they can say is no."

"That's true. Yeah, I'm down. It'll be good for the students and the postdocs. They'll have a space for them to collaborate together. Pretty exciting to think about, actually."

"Thought so." Jongho sips his beer. "I'll start working on a proposal and send it to you for edits."

"Sounds good with me."

"How was that meeting with Zara, by the way? I never got around to asking."

"Oh, it was good." He shrugs. "We talked a lot about getting her lab situated and getting on more grants ASAP."

"Sounded like a productive talk. Have you met again afterwards?"

"Yeah, it was." San clears his throat. "We met a few more times just to talk a bit more on some finer details for her lab and plans. Hope it was helpful at least. I turned her to Namjoon most of the time cause who else would know more?" Jongho laughs.

"Yeah."

"She's cool, though. Really sweet." Jongho snorts. "What?"

"I see Mingi's plan isn't really working well." San rolls his eyes, stuffing a few fries into his mouth before taking a bite. 

"Yeah, no. It's not." San shakes his head. "Don't even think about instigating, either."

"It's kinda fun. Plus, she's obviously attracted to you."

"No." San shuts it down.

"Why not? Why don't you just continue seeing where it goes?"

"I am, and I'm still in the same position I was when I first met her."

"Which is?"

"I respect her as a colleague and a colleague only." San glares at him. "I'm not going to force anything that isn't meant to happen." 

"Okay, fine. You're right. I'll get behind that." Jongho dips his last fry into the ketchup before looking back up at his bestfriend. "But at least promise me you won't be entirely closed off to it if it does naturally develop into something?"

"Uh." San pauses. He pauses not because of Zara or whatever Jongho's saying right now; he meant to agree, but he finds his thoughts suddenly roaming to.. you.

His curiosity, the need to learn more about you.

"Hello?"

"Sorry." San shakes the thoughts from his head in case Jongho can hear it or something. "Yeah."

"Definitely not genuine. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"I can hear you thinking."

"Can you? That's an invasion of privacy."

"It's her, isn't it?"

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about." Jongho stares and gives him a certain look, causing San to divert his attention away. Away from him, onto anything, anyone nearby.

"Yeah, okay. That's all I needed to know." Jongho quietly sips on the rest of his beer before pushing his plate aside and sitting back into the seat. "San, make your decisions wisely."

"I already told you it was nothing."

"Okay." Jongho says in defeat, leaving the topic alone. All he wants is for San to be genuinely happy, just like their other friends do. But, he's also hoping San is smart enough to make the right [and wise] decisions.

Not be blinded by anything, causing him to make irrational and impulsive decisions based on his feelings.

"Anyway, are you good to go?" San crumples the napkin and tosses it onto his plate before standing up and grabbing his keys, phone.

"Yeah, I am."

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd

[theinsanefoxwriter]

Gregory Deserves Better...

I never make actual posts to be honest, but I feel the need to right now, because I’m just so…tired of this. My favorite character in the newer FNAF era has been mistreated by both fans and the creators. So I’m making this in light of the new book coming that, at least from the description we have right now, sounds like it’s just Security Breach, except Gregory is replaced by Cassie.

I’ve said many times elsewhere how I suspected they wanted to boot Gregory for Cassie, and...I had no idea how right I actually was. It angers me, but…mostly, I’m just hurt and very disappointed, because it sucks to see a character I loved get so disrespected then practically replaced. The ending of Ruin felt like a slap in the face, and the sting is only getting worse. (And very quickly, in case anybody takes this from what I'm saying, no I don't hate Cassie. I just don't want her to completely replace Gregory.) I’m not here to talk about that situation, though.

If anyone for some reason leaves a comment arguing the points I make, I’m just going to ignore or even delete it. I’m not here to discuss or argue with people who disagree with me and/or think Gregory is a bad character. I just want to express an opinion that I don’t think is said nearly enough. And that opinion is the fact Gregory is severely misunderstood and mistreated by both the fandom and canon itself. I’m not going to get into everything, but enough that you can hopefully understand the point I’m trying to make.

Most of the Gregory hate at the beginning was due to him destroying the animatronics and then lying about it to Freddy. I don’t see how this makes him hateable or a bad person. “Why’d he have to go out of his way to destroy them?” “He’s a bad person for lying to Freddy and giving him the upgrades of his friends.” “The Glamrocks were so awesome. Why did Gregory have to do that?” What kid in danger would want to help or be nice to the scary robots trying to kill them? Or against the better argument, why would he have sympathy for them in a moment of intense danger? When they were actively trying to kill him? He did what he thought he needed to survive, which was destroying them and using the good parts they had to give him a better chance against them. If they had been nice, he would have liked them, but they weren’t. They were after him. And choosing to do that plus being able to do that doesn’t make him a bad person, and it doesn’t mean he's uncaring towards others or that he’s heartless. What I think people don't take into account is that Gregory did befriend an animatronic, the one who wasn't attacking him. He went to great lengths to help Freddy, and genuinely cared for him; that bear needed to be rescued on more than one occasion lol, and Gregory clearly wasn't just doing it because Freddy gives him a hiding place.

And in regard to the lying, I think Gregory hid that he was getting the upgrades from Freddy's friends, because he didn't want to make Freddy mad or hurt his feelings. That does sound like something a kid would do, and he is a kid. He's not gonna be perfect in this situation, and he doesn't even do anything that bad. I don't think Gregory gets enough credit. Everybody just sees a mouthy kid destroying animatronics they like (despite the fact they're hunting him, and the virus has made them basically mindless. Why wouldn’t he?), and they hate on him for it and other rather stupid reasons. Gregory is more than the “annoying” kid who destroyed your favorite animatronics. He’s a clearly guarded and defensive child who got stuck in a bad and terrifying situation, but…in the end, stayed anyway to prevent this and other bad things from happening to anyone else. Gregory cares. Yes, even if he destroyed some animatronics. The creators calling him the “darkness of the Pizzaplex” or whatever they said doesn’t make sense. On the surface, he might look like some child who destroyed Freddy’s friends, but look any deeper at all, and that’s not the case. There’s so much potential for his character, and I’m upset that he isn’t being given the spotlight or time to further explore his potential properly, especially since Security Breach ended up being a bit lacking in a lot of areas: perhaps another factor in why he’s so misunderstood.

In the end, I’m simply tired of seeing a character that I connected with treated like he was just a writing mistake that now needs to be replaced by a “better” character. I’m not saying his writing was perfect, but he deserves way better than this. I feel very passionate about the characters I like, which is why this has affected me so much, and I hope at least a few people see this.

Anything I missed I’m going to touch on briefly here:

GGY? A cool concept, actually, that I wish was utilized in the games. And Gregory is clearly possessed there, similar to Vanessa, so him being Patient 46 and causing people’s deaths can’t actually be held against him.

Dropping the elevator on Cassie? I firmly believe that was not him, and very clearly the Mimic’s doing. There’s solid evidence behind it, but I’m not going to get into it because it’s exhausting. Just know that no one can convince me otherwise. And even if the writers wanted Gregory to do that, it’s out of character and clearly an act of character assassination.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. Now go hug a misunderstood gremlin!

[whateverloomis]

🩸Red🩸 >> Poly!Ghost face x Killer!Reader || Scream 1996

Part 1 >> Part 3

About: While the Casey Becker and Steve Orth killings were taking place, a third kill happened as well... Billy Loomis and Stu Macher can't risk having someone else around that could ruin their goal of killing Sidney Prescott. What happens when all 3 killers get a little bit too close?

Warnings: SMUT in next chapter, cheating, making out, reader is AFAB, reader is a killer, reader is short, reader is alt and has tattoos and piercings, Randy is a bitch (lol,) tension, big reveal. Revised June'24

Reader: They/them pronouns that are highlighted in bold so it's easy to identify | AFAB

Word count: 2.2k

-

"You're a freaky one, huh?" He whispered and you laughed softly, standing up and straddling him. Billy immediately placed his hands on your hips and squeezed the flesh. You continued kissing and biting each other. Moaning and groaning quietly as you ground your hips against his crotch. Billy could've come right then and there with the sight of your tits bouncing while you moved against him.

You could've fucked him at that moment without a care, but before things could escalate, you heard footsteps.

Climbing off his lap and fixing yourselves, you moved far enough so it didn't seem like anything was happening.

•

A week. It had been a week since you and Billy had your little make-out session. Since he cheated on Sidney, with you out of everyone.

It's not like you cared about Sidney or liked her much, but there was still a hint of guilt. You did just what Katherine did with Steve. Of course, the relationships involved and circumstances were different but you couldn't really help feeling somewhat guilty.

Every day since then, whenever you were around Billy there was tension and it was slowly building up. Stu obviously knew what happened. Why would you be with Billy alone under the bleachers? It obviously wasn't just a casual smoke session, Stu knew best.

That same night, he asked Billy about it and of course the boy didn't hesitate to tell him everything. About how you guys conversed for hours and ended up talking about conspiracy theories. About you being too high to make any sense, which wasn't really convenient because the point of everything was for Billy to get information out of you, but of course that didn't go as planned.

"So you're telling me that instead of getting a confession out of them you ended up practically dry fucking under the bleachers, man?" - "Stu, that's not the fucking point here I-" - "Oh c'mon! Was it good?! Tell me the deets!" Stu insisted and Billy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Of course it was good, I mean c'mon." - "I knew it! God, what I'd give to get a piece of that." Billy chuckled at his friends comment and bit his bottom lip in thought. "Maybe you can... And then we'll both have opportunities to get information out of them." - "That's fucking genius, man."

It was a plan.

•

"I fucking swear I saw it." Randy said, agitated as usual.

"I mean, look. I doubt it, but I don't think it would be weird for them either like, it's baddie persona standard I'm sure." Tatum said and Sidney looked at her, doubt written on her face. "I don't know Tate, it would be kinda alarming if they do carry a knife around like that."

"It could easily be self-defense. Like pepper spray!" Tatum countered and Randy scoffed. "Please, you're defending them because you guys are friends." - "Who'r we talking about?" Stu said behind Tatum and hugged her from behind.

"YN." Sidney answered simply, before continuing, "Randy said he saw them putting away a knife in their bag."

"So? I mean, that doesn-" - "Listen! It fits the description of the knife that has been talked about multiple times in the news." Randy interrupted and Billy appeared next to him out of nowhere. "Nobody knows what the knife looks like, it's all rumors." - "Wh- I'm done with you guys! They're the new one in the group and you guys trust them?!" - "Nobody said that Randy, we just have to look at all the possibilities." Sidney said and everyone agreed, however Billy and Stu gave each other a knowing look. They needed to confirm. Get YN alone and try to see that knife somehow.

•

You figured it wouldn't be so bad if it was just a movie night, it didn't have to involve much talking since the point was to pay attention to the film.

"A movie night, at my house! My parents are out for the weekend so it'll be extra fun, we'll have drinks and pot. C'mooon." Stu tried to convince you for the second time that day. You had denied because of the attachment promise you had with yourself. The less accessible you were the better. However, it did sound very fun, and you couldn't remember the last time you had a casual hang out with friends, even if you wanted to keep them at a distance.

"Okay, fine. I'll be there." - "Fuck yes! My place at 7pm, bring snacks!" Stu said excitedly and you stood still while he skipped away. His energy could be quite overwhelming at times, yet you couldn't help but find him amusing and funny.

•

It was finally night time and you arrived to Stu's house at around 7:30pm. Fashionably late at it's finest. The door to his house was already open so you walked in and entered the kitchen, putting your selection of snacks on the counter.

You looked around and didn't see anyone. It instantly alarmed you, so you pulled out the knife from your hidden boot holster and kept it in your hand, hidden between the fabric of your short black dress. As you walked around slowly, the silence grew louder.

Even if you could gut someone without hesitation you still got paranoid at the thought of you getting killed. How selfish.

The living room was closest to you, so you walked in as quietly as you could. Suddenly, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist and lifting you off the ground. You yelped and dropped the knife, eliciting a loud thud.

"Get off!" You protested and tried to reach for a vase that was near the TV, but before you could you heard Stu's familiar voice.

"It's me, it's me!" He screamed and put you down.

"What the fuck Stu?!" You questioned angrily before smacking his arm.

"Ow! Hey, I was kidding! Just trying to scare you a lil." The boy replied and laughed.

You sighed and let out a long exhale, attempting to relax a bit.

"Who does this belong to?" You heard Billy ask, walking in the living room with your blade in his hand. Stu looked at you, a shocked expression painting his face.

"Mine. I thought I was getting killed so y'know, self defense." You explained, casual as ever before glaring at Stu.

Billy nodded in understanding before giving Stu a look you couldn't quite read. You walked past Stu and grabbed the knife from Billy's hand a little rougher than intended, and adjusted it in your boot again.

As you bent down your dress rode up a bit, exposing your ass momentarily before you rose up.

"Cute dress." Stu commented after you unintentionally flashed him. You turned around to look at him and gave him the cutest smile you could achieve. You weren't sure how innocent you could look after the boys saw the weapon you carry around, but you weren't about to break character because of it.

"So, is it just us?" You asked and Billy smirked behind you. "Yeah, the rest were too busy, or whatever." Stu said, not even trying to hide the fact that he was lying.

You honestly didn't mind being alone with them. If being alone with Billy got you a good make out session you couldn't help but wonder how far you could get with both boys.

•

Two Halloween movies and some alcohol consumption later you guys were on the couch talking about the rules of horror movies once again.

"All I'm saying is that Randy should be the number one suspect because c'mon, how does he even know all this stuff?" Stu said and you laughed. "Well, it's clearly a hyper fixation of his so it makes sense why he knows so much about it." You replied and Billy sat back as he stretched his arm behind you. "He keeps insisting that it's you though. Maybe he's right, considering his knowledge..." Billy said, his voice sounding closer than you expected.

"Are you accusing me now, Loomis?" You asked, looking at him before taking a swing of your beer. "I never accused you, I was just saying-" - "It sounds to me like you're pretty convinced." You countered, a smirk adorning your face. Stu shifted next to you, paying careful attention to the tension that laced your comment.

"Maybe I am... Maybe not. I mean, everyone is a suspect after all." Billy answered smoothly and you chuckled, looking down and biting your lip in thought. "Well, it could be any of us then, or all three of us." You suggested and looked at both boys. They visibly tensed and looked at each other, the slightest hint of fear adorned their handsome faces.

"I mean... If that were true then... Who killed who and with what motive?" Stu said and you shifted to face him. Did he really think you were that stupid as to answer with a confession right then and there?

"Okay, enough of that." Billy said, attempting to change the topic. He leaned forward to grab the beer bottle on the coffee table in front of you and rested his hand on your lower waist while doing so. He was slowly getting touchy and you couldn't deny that you wanted more contact.

"Why? You scared the truth will come out?" You asked him with a flirty tone, shifting on the couch, facing him, and scooting closer so your thigh touched his. Stu was amused at the whole exchange, sitting quietly next to you guys which was rare of him, considering his usual loudness.

"Are you challenging me, YN?" Billy asked, sitting up straight and placing one of his large hands on your thigh. "Maybe I am." You answered and he chuckled, looking down momentarily before looking at Stu over your shoulder. "Well, I think we have a pretty good idea of who's who, considering..." He paused and slid his hand down your leg all the way to your boot where you kept your knife hidden. Billy grabbed the weapon and waved it in front of you; "The fact that you carry this around, and it fits the descriptions of the killers knife perfectly..." He continued and ran his finger over the blade, feeling the sharpness. "And this is nice and sharp, too. Well taken care of." Billy finished and rested his hand on your thigh again, knife between your thigh and his palm.

You looked down at your leg and then back up at him. His eyes were piercing and you were left speechless. How were you supposed to dodge that one?

"He's right, isn't he, YN?" Stu said behind you, peeking at your face over your shoulder.

You were cornered. No answer went through your head that could save you from their interrogation. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, ready to confess before you felt a hand on your waist. Startled at the feel, you opened your eyes and Billy had the biggest smile on his face. He looked crazed. "We can all be honest here, right Stu?" He questioned the boy that was resting his chin on your shoulder at that moment. "Of course, nobody has to know, right YN?" Stu spoke softly and you were at your breaking point.

You rested your head on Stu's and smirked at Billy. "We? I thought it was me we were talking about here."

Gotcha.

Billy's smile disappeared and his hand twitched against your skin. "Steve and Casey." You said and looked at him straight into his brown eyes. "Two murders like those done by one person is nearly impossible, especially since she was on the phone with the killer while Steve got killed. It's a two man job and the cops are too stupid to realize it." Billy looked at Stu and his smile grew again. "You're good, babe." Stu said and laughed softly, close to your ear.

"Katherine. Same night. Similar ghost mask but in red and, I heard small red horns?" - "Cuutee" Stu said and you shifted away from him. "Oh, shut up! That doesn't mean it's me!" - "YN, you and that girl were close, and after you magically stopped being friends she got killed that same day? That's no coincidence, plus we all know she was going behind Casey's back, rumors go around quick and get confirmed even quicker. You had a shit show with those two sluts and had enough of it." Billy interrupted and you sighed. He was right and you hated him for it. You hated how he could read you and put the puzzle pieces together. How observant he was.

You stood up from the couch, the boys following your every move with their eyes. "Well, now that we're all out and about, what now? Hm? We gonna report each other? Kill each other? What's the plan, Loomis?" You spoke louder than usual and the boy stood up, towering over you. Stu followed behind and looked at you over Billy's shoulders, a wicked smile on his face.

"Now, we team up or someone gets killed, and it sure as hell isn't going to be us." - "And you bet your ass it's not going to be me either." You spoke quickly and he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Relax baby, here's the deal... You join us in our next kill. We team up. We'll get away with whatever we want. Do whatever we want..." He whispered the last few words and placed his left hand on your hip, pulling you closer to him. You couldn't deny that it sounded perfect. If it went wrong you could easily frame the two idiots. If it went well you could get the satisfaction of getting anyone out of your way, relish in the sweet screams and the thrill of getting revenge on whoever the fuck messed with you. Hurt you.

You bit your lip and scanned his face with your eyes. Curiosity getting the best of you; "Who's your next victim?"

"Sidney Prescott."

[xalygatorx]

Le Petit Mori (Zestial x AFAB!Reader)

Written for Hooked on Hazbin 2024, an event by the wonderful @fraugwinska & @macabr3-barbi3 ❤️

Minors DNI, you are responsible for your own media consumption

Summary: You're offered a deal by one of the most ancient killers in the Entity's realm. You take it.

Warnings: Angsty smut, graphic (game-typical) violence, blood, descriptions of pain, the reader is a survivor but not a good person, they're also losing it a little, Zestial is in Hell (or the Entity's realm) for a reason, some body horror, one (1) movie reference, oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, exhibitionism, size kink, reader wants to live deliciously, solo queue will wear you down, it gets a bit monster-fucky, AFAB!reader

A/N: For anyone here from my Hazbin crowd who isn't familiar with Dead by Daylight (DBD), here's a short(?) summary for some optional context.

DBD is an asymmetrical—one killer vs. a team of four survivors—horror game that is, in essence, freeze tag.

At its base level (lots of things can affect outcomes like match offerings and character perks and addons), the survivors' goal is to repair 5 generators to power the exit gates and escape alive. The killer's goal is to kill the survivors before that can happen.

The "freeze tag" element is executed via a hooking system—survivors can be hooked (literally) twice without dying as long as they're unhooked in a timely manner. Their third hook is their "death hook" and they're out of the game at that point.

When there's only one survivor left in a match, an escape hatch spawns in a random location on the map to give the lone survivor one last chance at escaping the trial.

There are lots of other ins and outs to the game as a whole (it can get convoluted), but this is the bare bones and I think all you'll really "need" for this oneshot. :) If you're just here for the smut and the sexual tension, you won't need any of it at all. LOL

If you have questions about specific details in the story related to game stuff, I'll happily answer them in the comments.

Good luck, have fun. x

Also on AO3

You don't know what you did—that not-knowing is the crux of everything you know now, as strange as that sounds.

You don't know why you stepped out into the road that day. Why instead of the impact of a fender, you felt gnarled, eldritch claws hook into you and pull. Why you were probably dead already and yet had to die again and again and again and again and again every goddamn day. Why the other "survivors," as you dead souls were all called, didn't trust you. Why you cared whether they did or not.

You suppose it's because this marrow-deep loneliness sometimes feels colder than death. It might've been easier to stomach oblivion—in fact, you're sure it would've been.

Instead, you're in the worst purgatory you can conceive of. A limbo of running for your life, tungsten hooks through your shoulders and already bloodied by the viscera of those sacrificed before you, and the same hateful eyes staring at you, through you, as the claws of the false god known only as the Entity spear you through and pull you up into where the fog is thickest. The same vacant, raging eyes of a killer simply masked within different faces.

All but one. One seemed to hate you less than the others—even less than your supposed "friends" by the campfire.

He still killed you. They all did. And despite his clear, present, and vibrant green gaze whenever he looked at you—whenever he smiled at you—he terrified you more than any of them.

Because the Overlord looked at you and saw you and saw something that made him keep looking. Maybe that was why the other survivors treated you like a killer the Entity could send home with them.

You feel not-so-hateful eyes on you that night after your last trial as you sit wrapping a sachet stuffed with herbs and laurel leaves from the nearby bog. Your hands still and you glance toward the source of the feeling, noting Claudette furtively watching your progress as she wrings her scarred, careful hands.

Caught, she fills the silence. "You're getting better at making those," she says, nodding toward the bundle balanced on your knee and the twine you're wrapping around it.

You nod a couple of times, acknowledging what she said although you aren't sure what she wants from the interaction. No one talks to you. At least not like this. She usually doesn't either, but she was more skittish than baleful in her avoidance. Claudette was the nicest and also the meekest of the bunch.

"It gets easier," she suddenly offers, pulling you out of your thoughts again. The fire crackles nearby and shadows are wrought up her drawn, concerned features. "They'll… They'll get nicer. You're still new. They're not used to new people. And there's a lot at stake out there."

"Thalita and Renato are newer than I am," you point out. There's no animosity in your tone, just facts. Your voice is hoarse from the screaming you did today.

Claudette sighs, glancing at the flames. "You're right," she admits. "I'm not sure why it's different for them. Maybe because they came together. Or maybe because they're similar in a lot of ways to a few of the others. You're…different. I can't put my finger on it, but there's a different energy to you, I guess."

"You're sounding like Mikaela," you point out, but it's with a faint smile cast her way as you go back to tying up your sachet.

She laughs and it relaxes her a little. "I know," she says, curling her knees up to her chest and resting her arms against the tops of them. "But I think I mean it. And, hey, it's helped you here and there in the trials so far, so it must be a good 'different'."

You know she's talking about the killers occasionally letting you go. That had been the first reason you'd considered for the others disliking you so much—that they were jealous of the number of times you'd already been delivered to the hatch or an open gate no matter how hateful the killer's stare—but it seemed to go deeper than that. Much deeper.

And they didn't even know about Zestial's apparent fixation with you.

"I think they've just done that because I'm new," you say, even if you didn't entirely believe it. "Can killers feel pity?"

"None that I've met," Claudette replies. "And I've been here a long time."

"How long?" you venture to ask.

Claudette's eyes grow distant, glazed by memory, and she purses her lips. "…I'm not sure. But long."

"Claude."

You both jolt a little at the hard tone that comes with Claudette's nickname. Jake casts a wary glance your way before returning his gaze to your sole companion at the fireside and jerking his head back toward the camp past the trees. "C'mon. It's late."

It was a sorry excuse to get her away from you. You didn't need to sleep here. Or eat, or drink, or rest. Purgatory.

Still, Claudette doesn't refuse him and doesn't point out his inconsistencies. She stands, brushes off her pants, and glances at you one more time.

"Hope you get some rest after today," she says, chafing one hand against her arm despite the heat from the fire. Again, she says, "It'll get easier."

Jake clears his throat and Claudette scampers away like an anxious rabbit, walking ahead of him into the trees to join the others. He looks back at you one more time, measuring you up, before nodding once and following your resident healer.

It was maybe the second time he'd acknowledged you since you were dragged here by the Entity months(?) ago. You had a feeling he only did because Claudette seemed to like you well enough and he didn't want to disappoint her.

Your fingers still against the twine and your eyes dip down to the fire.

You could still feel him.

From the first time, he never really left you. You still remember it. Meeting those brilliant green eyes across an expanse of Yamaoka, fiery slits cutting the dark, before you knew what being the first to look upon him in a trial would do.

Panic had laced through your ribs, clawed through your insides, and your thoughts had scrambled along with your teammates'. A perk of being the Overlord.

David's nails had raked deep, long scratches down his face as he screamed for the killer's aural effects to wear off. You heard them even now, the screams to "make it stop." He'd not been quite the same for days after and because he'd been the one to put those scratches in his face, they left the trial with him, too. Every time Claudette had sat down beside him to clean the cuts, he'd nearly leapt out of his skin.

Meg had been tunnel-visioned on a generator for once in her life and hadn't realized how close Zestial was until her body buckled with exposure and he swiped her right off the gen and straight to the ground. You learned in that precise instant what "exposure" meant in this realm as she lay on the dirt, bleeding and coughing, her fingertips burnt from where they'd tangled in the wires and caused the gen to backfire with her fall.

Yun-Jin had bolted immediately. You'd come to learn this was expected from her—she was efficient and bold, but she was nowhere near altruistic. You'd been left in a trial by her in exchange for a gate or on a hook for the hatch more times than you could count.

At least she didn't specifically hate you, it seemed—by what you could glean from catching the others' conversations and the trials you'd been in with her since, she treated everyone with equal detachment. It was how she protected herself, you imagined, in more ways than one.

After half the team had bolted and you stayed frozen in place, your eyes shifted back to the killer you'd never seen before that trial.

Zestial. "The Overlord." A towering, enigmatic figure of glowing eyes and void-black spines, wrapped up in a cloak that flowed like spider silk. Had you seen him in any other context, you may have scoffed at first—he looked like Halloween personified.

However, standing there, stock-still in horror as he stared back at you and smiled, you didn't have breath in your lungs to scoff. You'd told yourself every day since that it was only due to fear.

You'd never been the best at lying to yourself.

Meg had been the one to finally jar you enough to flee when she gritted from the ground, "Fucking run, you idiot!"

You'd stumbled back and done as she said, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste to leave the hulking figure and everything, everything he stirred in you behind. You chanced a glance over your shoulder as you left and saw that he'd picked Meg up at last—just one of his enormous, spidery hands was enough to fully encircle her waist.

Your eyes met his once more and he smirked, his free hand thumbing the brim of his tall hat in an antiquated gesture of farewell. The instant you turned away, your chest constricted with the feeling of needly claws around your heart and you hissed through your teeth. You looked down and saw those finger-like claws of the Entity in miniature beneath the skin of your chest, nearly retching at the way they stretched your flesh.

When you'd collapsed at a gen next to David, he'd glanced over and seen the new deformation around your throbbing heart.

"Fuck me," he mumbled, his scratched cheeks still trickling blood as he fought dissociation to focus on the generator in front of him. "I didn't know he did obsessions."

He did apparently. But only when you were in the trial. And it was always you.

You'd all died that first trial with minimal effort on Zestial's part. You'd come to understand later that this was perhaps a display of the ease with which he could dispatch you at any point. Because subsequent trials with him were different. Much different.

The most memorable one had been the last one, perhaps a week ago now assuming your sense of time could be trusted, in the Red Forest. Mother's Dwelling specifically, if you had the map variants correct. Cold rain had drizzled down from a steely sky as you'd felt that painful cage wrap around your heart again, warning you that you were the obsession in this trial as you set off to find a chest.

It'd been quite some time since you'd last faced the Overlord prior to then and you'd been able to write off his smirks and gestures as part of his persona up until that point. It had nothing to do with you.

Or so you'd thought.

It hadn't even occurred to you to be wary of the chests. It wasn't one of the Lich's and unless whoever the killer was this trial had a specific perk to notify them that a chest was being disturbed, you saw no reason to fret. Your only concern was getting it open and looted before you ran into the whoever the killer was this round.

You'd prayed for a toolbox to replace the one you'd foolishly forgotten at the campfire as you reached for the lid, only to be stalled by something you couldn't immediately see.

You'd tried to give your arms a shake, eyes narrowing with confusion until realization dawned. Glistening, diamondlike droplets of rainwater clung to the near-invisible strands of spider web woven in thick, previously hidden layers over the chest you'd reached for and had secured you in place on contact.

"Flies in a Web," you'd whispered in horror as you recognized the perk effect and forced yourself to still.

Feng had told you about this one after she'd been ensnared by it once before and had stopped you from trying to help her out of it. She'd held completely still and told you to do the same if you were ever in her position, even if you could shake them off faster at a cost—struggling against these webs would bring the Overlord right to you.

It was him again.

And it didn't matter that you'd stilled, it seemed. The air had shifted and staled, feeling heavy in itself, as a humid breath fanned across the back of your neck.

You'd jolted. You couldn't help it. And the next warm exhale came in the form of a chuckle because of that.

Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't turn around…

You hung your head and held your breath. The second you looked at him, you'd reveal your teammates with that same panic that always started a trial against him—you wouldn't be the one to do it this time. Not again. Not when it would hinder your team and give you an exposure effect for an even easier down. Not that he needed help to accomplish that.

"Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?"

You froze. He could speak? You'd only ever heard a handful of killers do more than grunt. The Overlord had been silent up to this point save for the occasional chuckle or sneer, as far as you knew.

Your heart had flown, aching in its cage of claws, as you focused on not collapsing into a panic of your own, of keeping your eyes down and remaining still as you waited for the claustrophobic sensation to be dispelled with the webbing on your arms. It couldn't be much longer now…

Zestial had chuckled in your ear, his hot breath against the shell making you shiver in spite of yourself. "So responsive in all but voice… I asked thee a question," he murmured.

You'd been horrified at yourself as his deep timbre sent a shock of heat down to your core. Shaking off the unwelcome sensation as best as you could, you'd wondered if it was better for you to speak to him.

He'd likely kill you either way, wouldn't he? What was the harm?

"What do you mean?" you ventured to ask, still keeping your eyes trained on your hands as you waited for his webs to disintegrate and tried to hold off activating his first-sight perk you couldn't remember the name of.

In truth, the altruistic thing for you to have done would've been to look back at him and trigger it early—no one else was nearby, so only you would be exposed. But you weren't trying to save the others anymore by then. You weren't near so selfless anymore after the last handful of trials in which you'd been left to die over and over.

You wouldn't protect them anymore the way you had. Not for free.

"I meant what I hath said. Is this enough for thee f'r the rest of thy days?" he purred against your ear, the heat of him now settled just behind your back and the contrastingly cold skin of his cheek near to brushing yours. "Or doth thee desire more?"

Perhaps once, you would've used some semblance of faith to shrug off what could only be called a devil's temptation. But where was your God when you died? When the Entity—a real god, if a false one—dragged you into what could only be regarded as Hell itself? What did you have now to fight this feeling?

Nothing. So why should you?

The Overlord sensed your hesitation and whispered, "Forsake thy friends. Forsake thy freedom, if thee can liken this to such distant dreams. I can off'r thee a deal beyond aught else in this realm of the damned. If thou wouldst only allow it…"

"What deal?" you whispered back, your gaze starting to slowly travel back toward where his mouth hovered near your ear. The webs had gone from your arms, but you hadn't noticed, enraptured by this quiet voice full of promises.

"What doth thou wish?" he wondered.

You'd hesitated only to jolt in place when you felt his huge hands rest against your thighs—they would've been able to wrap fully around them if he'd angled them so. However, he trailed his spread, spindly fingers up along the inner seam of your jeans and sent shocks of desire to the vee he deftly avoided to instead trace his claws against the hem of your shirt and the soft skin beneath.

You'd not been able to help rubbing your thighs together to try and dispel the sensation—a meager, quick shift of your body but he'd noticed. A dark chuckle had left him after.

"Methinks I may know, little one."

A generator finally popped in the distance, freeing both of you from whatever spell he'd placed you under. A faint sound of irritation rumbled in his throat and you felt him rise behind you to leave. You felt your body stiffen, learnedly bracing for impact.

"Think on thine sins," he advised you in parting. "Those thou hast committed ere this night…and those thy dream of anon. I will await thine answer."

You'd (stupidly) turned to look at him then and had just been lucky he'd left already. You had the chest open—it'd been a first-aid kit in the end—and had seated yourself at a gen before you heard and felt his panic-inducing perk activate. You had immediately fumbled the wires you were working on, cursed at yourself, and tried to get the repairs back to where they'd been before your misfire.

He'd properly gotten in your head that night. And he's still there. Even now, sitting beside the campfire and bundling offerings, you can feel his hands on your legs. His fingertips tracing upward, just shy of where you—Heaven help you—wanted him most.

Your jaw clenches. It's no wonder everyone is creeped out by you. You're sick.

Shaking off those thoughts of self-loathing, you look back down at the offering you're making and immediately recoil hard enough for it to tumble off your knees.

The sachet had been speared through, all but replaced by the bones and guts of a tanager bird and wound up in the same knots of twine. Worst of all, it was fashioned into a formation that resembled the arms of the Entity. You'd stared up into those ascending arms so many times already, both as you lay dying among them and in the times you were seconds too late to save someone else.

Where the bundle clattered to the dirt near the fire, sparks leapt out and ignited it. The acrid smell of burning bloody offal hit your nose as the offering you had apparently made was turned to ash at your feet.

The shaky breath that fell from your lips obscured the softer, deviant chuckle that ghosted from beyond where the flickering light of the flames could reach.

"Whatever's fucking with you today, get over it now," Meg grits at you as you walk with her, Jonah, and Claudette to the starting area. "I'm not saving your ass every time you get yourself hooked in the endgame. There could've been 'Blood Warden' and then we would've all gotten killed! Don't get fucking hooked when the gates are open!"

"Don't be so harsh, Meg," Claudette pleads, surveying their surroundings with undisguised unease as the woodsy path shivers around them and shifts into the Eyrie. Crows swarm the top of the tower at the center of the map, their cries piercing the air.

You grind your teeth together as you feel your chest constrict. You're the obsession this round. Some quiet, surely deranged part of you wonders with something almost eager if it's the Overlord again.

"If I'm not harsh, none of them ever learn," Meg shoots back and the two of them share a thousand-yard look that only comes from being in the throes of the Entity's grasp for so long. Something vulnerable passes through Meg's expression, but it's quickly extinguished as she turns back toward the map. "Hurry up. We're wasting time."

She walks past you with a hard clip of her shoulder to yours and you stumble, body rigid as you swallow your anger and the urge to scream at her. To turn on her. To put her on a hook yourself.

Have you always been this filled with rage?

You almost swing at the person who touches you next, but you still when you meet Claudette's apologetic eyes.

"She means well," she says softly, imploringly.

"Yeah," you murmur, shying away from her hand and heading into the arena, yourself. "You keep saying that."

What are you supposed to think when the kindest touch, the kindest offer you'd yet received in this wretched place had come from someone who had killed you? Who would likely kill you again? And again?

And again.

As you pass one of the sandstone outcroppings, you pause and listen. A faint crackling sound meets your ears again, almost as easily mistaken for the dead tree branches also rustling nearby despite a lack of wind. When you step back and worm your way through the rocky formations, you spot a lit totem nestled against a stony curve. You hunker down into a crouch and set to work dismantling it, working your lip between your teeth as you do so.

What would they do?

In your place, if offered an out—or even a sliver of something, anything!—from one of the killers, the persuasive Overlord in particular, what would the others do? They acted high and mighty with you at times, certainly, but you couldn't imagine they wouldn't buckle at least a little at the notion of…whatever it was you were being offered.

He'd left that up to you, hadn't he?

The last ties around the bones beneath your hands slip free and a resounding crack echoes through the map as the hex breaks and the flames licking the skulls now decorating the ground die away with a flicker.

Normally the thing to do would've been to hurry off. Go find a gen or at least walk around the corner in case the killer comes to see who's meddling with their plans.

You stay though. The squeeze of the cage in your chest increases as blood begins to roar in your ears and the air swells with something that just bridges the gap between music and a coming storm. The faint keen of a violin confirms who you will turn to see before you shift your gaze upward.

Meeting Zestial's eyes has its usual first-time effect. Panic rises in the form of bile in your throat and you hear your teammates shriek, near and far, from their stations. Anxiety muddles your senses, panic that isn't yours but induced by the power itself.

You feel a little drop of blood run from your nose as you hold his stare and watch his Jack-O-Lantern smile creep higher up his cheeks.

"Bold of thee not to flee, little one," he intones, stepping closer until he stands with you in the stone crevasse, his towering figure easily surpassing the height of the formations. "Or foolish. Unless, of course, thou hast come to some conclusion…"

He leans down toward your face to study your eyes. You saw them—wide and unsure—reflected in his. "I am most eager to learn which is thine truth."

"I think I want…," you force yourself to stammer out, stopping and holding a hand against your mouth as you hesitate. You could smell the dusty earth still on your fingertips from the totem, lingering notes of sand and rot.

"Go on," Zestial urges you, his tone kind and encouraging while something impatient like hunger alights his eyes.

"A deal," you finally choke out.

All four of his luminescent lime-green eyes flare at your words.

"A deal forsooth?" he purrs, the top pair of his eyes flickering with red irises for an instant until they calm back to a placid lake of pure green once more. "How curious. I am listening with mine full attention. As is She."

"She?" you repeat in a lowered voice, instinctively glancing around for signs of Meg or Claudette.

The Overlord chuckles. "The Entity, little one," he explains, his smile curling into a sinister grin as if sharing a well-kept secret. "She hungers."

"For what?" you ask, realizing how dumb your question sounds only after you speak it into existence.

Zestial merely hums though, as if your silly question is worth consideration. "For thine bodies of course," he says and the way his voice drops into a deeper tone sends shivers skimming up your spine. His eyes narrow on you and, although there are no pupils present to follow, you can feel him taking you in. "An unending craving nigh only sacrifice may appease."

"And whatever you're offering…has something to do with that?" you inquire with caution.

He smiles at you, the expression almost warm. When was the last time someone looked at you with warmth?

Something inside you begins to break. Is it from the pressure of the cage around your heart? You ask yourself that, even knowing it isn't.

"Forsooth, little one," he practically coos down at you, painfully gentle as he brushes the trail of blood away from your nose.

Somewhere a gen pops and your gaze flickers sideways toward the sound while his own stays completely fixed upon you. He takes your chin and turns your attention back to him, the grip of his long, clawed fingers tight but not painful. Not yet.

"Thy fate is sealed upon manifesting within this realm to oppose me," he warns you as you fight the urge to sag into his touch. The danger and the savior—he represents both now and you aren't sure which one is the truth.

He has you right where he wants you—a fly in a web.

"What doth thou wish to exchange f'r the heads of thy comrades? For thy head, verily?"

Your eyes widen. You'd committed to not sticking your neck out for the others anymore, but to offer them on a platter to the Entity? To him?

They would do it to you, whispers a traitorous voice, a tickle in the back of your skull. It doesn't entirely sound like yours though. They would sell you in an instant. You know it to be true.

"That's the only option?" you ask carefully, shuddering as he curiously runs his fingertips along your jawline. Around a lock of your hair. "That's the only way?"

Zestial nods with feigned compassion. "It is the only currency of this realm. Naught else is valued," he tells you as his hand skims down to your throat. "Or little else, perhaps, with regards to thee."

"What do you mean?" you ask again, feeling like it's the tenth time you've asked the same question.

It's hard to focus when he's touching you with hands that can and have plucked you right off your feet and slammed you onto a meat hook. When he's instead brushing those same digits across your scarred flesh with a rare, unspoken tenderness.

It isn't lost on you that a being that could kill you, that is meant to kill you and is choosing not to, instead finds you interesting enough to touch. To bargain with. In fact, it's disturbingly enthralling to you, but you don't realize that until heat blossoms in your core again, just like before.

Zestial just smiles at you instead of answering your repetitious question. He knows you needn't ask any longer what he means by his implications. You know.

You swallow hard under his burning gaze. "Okay," you murmur at last. If you were going to die again anyway, you should at least get something out of it.

"Exquisite," he whispers, running the pad of this thumb across your lower lip and freeing it from your teeth. "And what of thine reward, hm?"

You shudder. Your thighs tense and squeeze together as you draw in a shaky breath. His charcoal skin smells like brimstone, ink, and old books—you catch traces of all three as he continues to stroke your face.

"I thought you knew," you murmur sheepishly, shame washing over you.

"Of course, I do," Zestial coos, encroaching further on your personal space as the hand holding your chin tips your head back. Another two gens pop in succession as he murmurs, "For the sake of our deal, I would have thee speak it."

Your face goes red with deepened shame as he stares down at you expectantly, holding your head in a grip that doesn't allow you to look away. "Please…," is all you can muster, the barest breath of a whisper.

"Please…?" he coaxes you to continue as his free hand slides around the small of your back. Presses your smaller, so much more breakable body against his.

Something unmistakably hard digs into your stomach as he holds you to him and you fear you might give away your very soul for free in this moment if he only asks.

This is also what finally pulls the words out of you that he is looking to hear.

"Please just… I just want to feel good," you plead, feeling weak beyond measure as the dam breaks. A stream of tears escapes your right eye and falls against his hand. "I can't remember the last time I felt anything but hurt or angry or alone… I just want to feel good. Just for a little while. So I…"

You avert your eyes—shame reignites in your belly. You still aren't fully sure what you're asking for—or rather what you'll get by asking for it—even as you, at last, confess your poorly concealed desire.

"…I want you to fuck me."

Zestial's brow rises despite knowing that's where this was heading all along—all these centuries in the Entity's realm and he's never quite gotten used to the way modern language has worked in such harsh words with such casual meanings. Yet these particular sharp words from you inspire a dark coil in his gut that makes your request feel just as much his reward as it will be yours.

"Thine wish is for the taking," he murmurs as he slides the hand cradling your face down your neck to your shoulder—past the puncture scars he himself has added to—and then ultimately down to your hand. He clasps it as a flash of green light erupts from between your palms, his engulfing yours in full. "And a deal is struck."

You very nearly whine when he lets you go, but you swallow the sound. Somehow, despite quieting before you can embarrass yourself, he seems well aware of your disappointment.

"Do not beest so somber, little one," he murmurs, playfully tapping your nose with the tip of a claw. "Thine aura is mine to behold—and mine is thine. Aid thy sacrifices, then thou mayst find me in the collapse. I shall linger with bated breath 'til next we meet."

You aren't sure how you're meant to manage the elixir of dread and arousal flooding your veins until that time, but you do as he asks. Slinking off, you find an unrepaired generator and come across Jonah already bumbling through repairs on one side, the sluggish rate of the pistons something you might've found discouraging had you not already known how the trial would end.

How, for once, you were looking forward to the endgame.

Jonah gets his wires crossed and the generator blows back at him with a series of cantankerous sparks. He waves the air in front of him and glances at you fleetingly but with an air of sheepishness in place of his usually dismissive gaze. You just shrug and nod at the gen for him to get back to it, your own deftly done repairs already getting most of the progress back that he'd lost with his error.

The silent understanding between you isn't unwelcome. It's just a touch too late.

Your gen pops to life and Zestial suddenly swoops in out of the shadows, raking his claws up your back and shoving you aside to lunge after Jonah. Your fellow survivor bolts, panicking into a vault he's not ready to take and paying for it with a loss of speed—Zestial easily plucks him from the sill and drags him, kicking and thrashing in protest, toward the nearest hook.

You pull yourself off the ground by gripping the finished gen, stumbling away and wondering for an instant if you hallucinated the entire exchange between you and the Overlord earlier on. You suppose you might be unhinged enough by now to be delusional. Perhaps this was the more likely outcome anyway.

However, a sideways glance of his glowing green eyes and a faint, almost rueful smile says that you didn't and he's instead helping both of you save face. You scurry off to find a med kit or one of your teammates to help you patch up.

Meg finds you before you find anything at all. She spots your blood trail after dismantling a dull totem near the mausoleum and follows you, nearly startling you into a cry when she suddenly steps up behind you and pushes you down to her level.

"Quiet," she mumbles, pulling the fabric of your T-shirt back from the bleeding clawmarks. She begins rummaging in her pockets for the remnant of a bandage roll she still has from the med kit she came in with. Zestial must've gotten her earlier, too, before finding you and Jonah.

She pulls the bandages too tight when she's distracted by Jonah screaming in the distance, suspended at last on a sacrificial hook. When she hears the hmph of discomfort that escapes you, she shakes off her nerves and mutters a halfhearted, "Sorry."

Bandaged up and mobile, you readjust your shirt and she hangs back to help you—perhaps a wordless apology for her earlier attitude—and then sprints in the direction of Jonah's cries without further ado.

There's one generator left to do before the gates are powered and, spurred on by a drive that rivals anything the Entity could've inspired in you before, you find it. Claudette's already on it, blood dripping from her back, which has been sliced not dissimilarly to yours.

Something in you begins to eat at itself when you consider offering to help her wrap her wounds, knowing despite that surge of compassion what your deal with the Overlord—at least to some degree—will ultimately do to her. You know this time that going through the motions of suturing or binding up her cuts won't stop her from being annihilated with the rest of the team, yourself included, when the realm begins its tradition of falling apart around you. It's a time-old ritual of splintering, festering earth and the deep, foreboding toll of a bell you can't see with each tone signifying another moment to escape transpired.

You still offer because you aren't a monster, even if you're starting to feel a bit like one.

"Do you want to patch those up before we pop this?" you ask, pausing to glance behind you to make sure you're alone.

Claudette gives you a watery smile and stops what she's doing, presenting her back to you as she passes you her unused first-aid supplies.

"See?" she says as you pop open the box and get out some disinfectant and a suture set. "You're getting better. I was about to set this off like the Entity just dragged me down here yesterday."

Guilt pools in the base of your stomach. It rivals oddly with the lingering lust. The shame is spread evenly between the two, bridging the gap.

"It's not always the smart thing to do, I guess, but since we have time," you muse, hoping you sound as casual as you're attempting to.

"Yeah, it's weird," Claudette says, wincing a little as your unpracticed hands stitch her wounds but saying nothing to discourage you. "Folie à Deux happened pretty early"—that's what his panic perk is called—"and then we didn't see hide nor hair of him until just a few minutes ago. Did you see him first or did Jonah?"

Your belly churns. "I did," you say honestly. "I cleansed that hex and happened to see him when I was leaving the area. I think he was coming back to see who'd broken it."

"That was a good early find," Claudette says, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention in full to what she's saying. "Who knows what that might've been."

You hum agreement as you finish bandaging over her stitches. "All done," you say, handing her back the remainder of her med kit and settling yourself adjacent to her spot at the gen.

"Thanks," she murmurs, the sparks from the wires she tinkers with reflecting in her large glasses as she picks up where she left off. "I think we may all get out this time."

You can taste your own stomach acid as you say, "I hope so."

The generator pops and the gate sirens wail, one coming from across the map while the other goes off directly behind you both.

"C'mon!" she says, eagerly pulling you toward the gate just past the stone wall you're situated behind.

You hesitate, turning to look back at the eyrie and the graveyards sprawled around it. You espy a tall, rosy silhouette—an aura—within the eyrie itself, ascending the stairs with such grace it almost appears to glide.

When you make yourself look away to figure out how to escape Claudette's attention, you notice the switch she's about to grab.

"Wait!" you suddenly shout, stalling her with your urgency. "Look!"

Claudette casts a confused look at the switch but gives you the benefit of the doubt and steps around to view it from the same angle as you. Thick, faintly dusted ropes of spiderweb layer over the switch, presenting a trap for anyone too eager to pull the handle.

"Ugh," she mumbles, shrinking back from the spiderwebs. "Good eye. Maybe Meg and Jonah have the other one done already. Let's go see."

"I'll catch up," you say and she pauses to cock her head at you. "I have a glyph I was supposed to find. I'm going to take the long way around to see if I can spot it."

Claudette hesitates. "…Okay," she slowly agrees. "But don't get yourself killed, alright? We've made it this far. And the Overlord's not someone to screw around with." She cracks a smile. "Plus, I think Meg will actually kill you this time if you get hooked after they get the gate open again."

You shrug and offer her the best smile you have available. "Probably," you agree. "I won't be long."

Claudette blessedly leaves you to it and you feel bad about how easily she believes your lies. Even though warning her would do nothing, you still feel a slight urge to do so as you wait for her to leave and then begin your walk to the center building.

Still though, even if she was never cruel to you, did she ever really help you? What did you owe her, in all actuality?

Perhaps what you'd already given her—a healing touch and a well-wish. A chance for a gate you knew that, one way or another, none of you would be crossing today.

The cawing of the circling murder gets louder as you enter the building, the acoustics of the structure the truest thing of horror on this godforsaken map. At pace, but on shaky legs, you round to the stairs and begin the climb, spotting the static silhouette of the Overlord through the far wall on the top floor. Outside on the balcony.

When you arrive, you see that this side of the wraparound ledge provides a perfect vantage point of the other gate.

"Behold," Zestial murmurs as you join him, standing a polite distance from his side.

You follow his gesturing hand to the gate and see Jonah down there, still injured—likely because Meg used the last of her bandages on you—and holding down the gate lever with the strength he could still muster. It'd always bemused you how hard he took his first hook. While the rest of you were running on fumes and a death wish, every cut and minor inconvenience seemed to take years off his undead life.

The gate buzzer sounded. Once. Then twice. And then three times as the doors rattled open.

The entire gateway past the doors was covered in layer upon layer of webbing. So thick that the entirety of the other side, the exit and the field that would take them all back to the campfire, was obscured. There may as well have been nothing there at all.

You swear you can somehow hear them from your perch despite knowing it's impossible. Still, you aren't sure you need to hear Meg say "what the fuck" to know that Meg has said "what the fuck."

Your concern is flaky at best as you feel Zestial's hulking form slide up behind you, the expanse of his hands folding over your hips and pulling you back against the straining erection beneath his silken robes. You shudder, that mixture of fear and longing back and burning in your core, slicking the heat beneath your skirt. He hums softly against your hair, inhaling deep, and you aren't sure how you know, but you know he can smell your arousal by the way he presses harder against you.

"Thine sacrifice is made, little one. Thy first," he whispers over the shell of your ear, sounding almost proud. He shifts you by your hips, turning you and walking you back against the stone wall behind you both.

For a second, you think he might be shielding you from whatever is about to happen down on the ground, but he's doing no such thing.

Like you weigh nothing, he lifts you up, presses your back against the stone, and positions your legs over his shoulders. Your thighs clench in needy humiliation as Zestial puts himself at eye level with your wet, aching hole beneath just a skirt and the thin fabric of your underwear. You bite back a groan as he noses into the wet spot you've made there. You're practically panting as his hands curl fully around your thighs and he nuzzles into your heat with abandon.

Hooking a claw beneath the waistband, he removes the slip of fabric from beneath your skirt with surgical precision, tearing it out of his way and smirking at the way your body jerks with surprise above him. He feels your fingers burying themselves against his back for balance, not fully trusting him with your weight or at least not completely understanding that you weigh next to nothing straddling his shoulders.

The deep inhale he takes of your near-to-dripping cunt feels like sin incarnate.

"We begin," he murmurs just as the first bell of the endgame collapse belatedly tolls and he slides his too-long, monstrous tongue languidly along your lower lips.

Meanwhile, you remain hoisted and pinned in place, left to helplessly watch that which you've wrought upon the match. All while desperately grasping for purchase on his cloaked shoulders as he plows your tight channel with his tongue, reaching far deeper than your human fingers could ever go. It takes no time at all for him to have you moaning, crying out for relief, and wriggling in his grasp while your teammates scream for a far different release below.

"There has to be a way out, there has to be another way out!" Meg is rambling, in a full-blown panic. Her voice hitches up into a shriek as she yells, "There's ALWAYS another way out!"

"The other gate had webs on the switch, but maybe it's clear inside!" Claudette stammers, her eyes wet with frightened tears. "But wait, we have to get—"

"Forget her!" Meg shouts, her fingers knotting into her hair as she claws at her scalp. "She went off on her own and, even if she were over here with us, she's just as fucked!"

Claudette nods, reaching for Meg's arm and then thinking better of touching her right now. "Then let's—"

Claudette's no sooner started to suggest the alternative route again when the hook behind her pitches forward, forced into a bend by the long black limbs of the Entity, and spears her through the shoulder with its tungsten fang.

She screams as it repositions and yanks her back, the claws immediately descending upon her and bypassing the usual state of a first hook. Claudette is barely able to catch the claw that rounds down to impale her before it can succeed.

"CLAUDE!" Meg shouts, sprinting to get her down while Jonah loses his nerve behind her, whirling this way and that as if he might somehow spot a third exit where there is none.

Not yet, anyway, he realizes.

You've lost yourself in full above them, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as you feverishly ride Zestial's face and he ruts for any semblance of friction against the wall he's pinned you to. He traces near-bruising circles over your clit as he continues to devour you, body and soul, and it's enough to make you unravel.

"Oh, fuck, please, Zestial, I can't—"

"Thou canst. Thou will."

He intends to make you come and a strategic curl of the oral muscle he stuffs back inside you ensures it.

His ministrations pull a genuine scream from you just as another scream echoes from below—this time from Meg, who's suffered the same fate as Claudette after unwittingly wandering too close to another hook. She's shrieking for Jonah to unhook them, but he's already made up his mind. He's waiting for them to die for a chance at the hatch. The second Meg realizes this, she hurls every insult at him she can think of.

Trembling as you try to unclench your thighs from around his head, needlessly fearful yet again of what match you might be to his strength, you raggedly suck in a breath and practically turn to jelly as he removes you from his shoulders and holds you like something cherished.

You think he might be finished with his end of the bargain—and fair enough, you'd half-expected him to take what he wanted from you, to use the loose wording of your deal and move things along as quickly or perhaps even as violently as possible to punish you for the loopholes you've allowed—until he takes you to the edge of the balcony.

You hear the hatch pop open down below as Zestial lays you across the crumbling stone edge of the overlook, your spine bowing back as he lets your limp weight settle in its new spot. He tangles one of his enormous hands in your hair and cranes your head back until you're able to watch, the realm on its inverse, as Jonah betrays the girls and makes a mad dash for the open hatch.

"Feel naught for those thou hast forsaken," the Overlord murmurs into your ear as you witness the remainder of the trial in detached delirium. He bends over you as one hand stays fisted in your hair and the other pushes aside his cloak and frees his hard, leaking cock from his pants. He grasps the base and pumps once, twice, three times, as he murmurs in a voice deeper and more gravelly than before, "These fools art purest folly compared to thee."

The second Jonah is within arm's length of the hatch, it snaps shut, and that's also the instant Zestial pushes into your primed, pliable entrance. He coos praises into your ear and drops a chaste kiss against your temple when you whimper. Still, he continues to stretch you beyond what you've taken before. It hurts, but it feels better than anything you can fathom, and the coil in your lower belly begins to tighten again as he finds a leisurely, thorough pace that agrees with him.

Your eyes roll back in ecstasy and it grants you a look at Jonah as he stumbles back from the slammed-shut hatch. He is immediately snatched by the very hook the hatch spawn was meant to lure him to, his keening screech mingling amongst the screaming crows circling with ever more fervor above. The bell tolls again and the ground around the tower begins to break apart in fiery, shuddering fissures.

There's a hollow sound that echoes through the map as Claudette ceases to struggle and is speared through by the Entity, its gnarled limbs crooking around her like a spider's legs as it lifts her up into the vacant sky. A sky you see stars in for the first time in what feels like an eternity as Zestial cants his hips just right and hits that sensitive, spongey spot inside you.

"Right there, right there, right there," you babble like a prayer, pressing your forehead against Zestial's when he leans in to tighten his hold around you and secure you in the position he wants. That he knows you both need. "Please, Zestial, please, I—"

The Overlord shushes you softly and brushes his lips across your face, his hand relaxing its grip on your hair now that there's nothing else below to witness. Instead, he simply cradles the base of your skull as he thrusts up into you and turns your whines back into wanton screams.

"T'is mine intention to take care of thee, little one, rest assured," he mumbles against your cheek, his pace stuttering as he feels his own release approaching. "Wouldst thou allow me to—" A surprise cant of your hips that lets him fuck even deeper into you takes him by surprise and he groans low into your ear, the sound making you shudder and pushing you closer to euphoria. "—to care for thee?"

You're not completely sure what he means, but you won't be asking that question anymore today.

"Yes," you moan, crying out as he shows his approval for your response with an intentional, deep thrust of his cock.

He seals his lips over yours and you grant him full access to your mouth without his needing to ask, tasting yourself on his tongue as he pounds into you and swallows your screams. You flutter and clench around him, your body desperately milking his until he can no longer hold off his own pleasure.

The hot rush of his seed filling you up nearly makes you come again in your oversensitive state and you whine as he fucks his release deeper into you, tilting your body back just a little more as if to make sure not a drop of the load you both worked so hard to spill escapes you.

Your arms and legs remain entangled around his body as your own body continues to shake with aftershocks. Your shivers stem from pleasure and not from fearing how easily he could send you plummeting from the tower if he chose to let go. You realize with some surprise that you, perhaps foolishly, trust him not to drop you at least.

You can't help another shiver when he finally pulls his softening cock from your heat and you whimper from too much sensation at once. He collects you in his arms again and lets you bury your face against his neck as he adjusts himself back into his pants and fixes his cloak, watching with fascinated satisfaction as your mixed releases drip down your quaking thighs.

He smooths your hair back from your head and kisses your cheek again, surprised at the depth of feeling this venture has unexpectedly brought him.

The final toll of the bell sounds and you tense in a Pavlovian response. You wait to be speared by the Entity and forcibly dragged down to respawn at the fire. You know you need to start conjuring your tale of what happened this endgame if you're ever going to be taken off a hook or healed again.

And yet…nothing happens.

Claudette, Meg, and Jonah have all long been taken. The map settles after the final toll, the ground pulling itself back together with the god of this realm appeased, and then…nothing.

"What's happening?" you whisper warily, as if speaking too loudly will alert the Entity that She missed a morsel on her trial grounds.

Zestial pauses to admire you in the afterglow before glancing skyward and then down toward the mending earth. "It would seem thou hast found your true place within the realm," he murmurs, the whispers of the Entity an undercurrent of song amidst the avian cacophony above you both. "For thy lovely hands, verily, be the lovely hands of a killer."

Your eyes widen. "A killer?" you repeat, your voice shaking.

He hums and begins your joint descent to the ground floor, carrying you along as you slowly recover control of your body and your shaking starts to cease.

"She is pleased with thee," Zestial tells you as he strides toward the edge of the map—an edge of the map you've never been privy to before. One that branches off into a darker, denser part of the woods you know. "Thou hast far more potential than a lamb for slaughter, little one. I didst know it from the first time mine eyes beheld thee. She doth know it now that thou hast proven thyself. Now the sole epiphany we wait f'r is thine own."

Your fingers tighten against his cloak, the fabric soft and cool against your warm skin. A glance down the path he approaches fills you with uncertainty, but something stirs awake as well. Something you've felt within you from the beginning, perhaps the very thing your "comrades" sensed as well.

And as you meet Zestial's eyes and nod for him to take you through, to take you with him, your soul settles as if for the first time—as if this is where it should've been all along.

This time, at least, you know precisely what you've done.

Bonus A/N: In case anyone's interested in the loadout details I wrote for Zestial before starting the story, here ya go. :)

Perk Loadout

Folie à Deux - A panic born in a crowd can mean the end for everyone. After the killer is sighted for the first time by a survivor, all survivors become aimless and scream for 15 seconds if 2+ survivors are within 50 meters of each other. If any survivors are within 10 meters of the killer, they also become exposed for a quick 5-second period.

Overlord's Influence - Strike a deal with a survivor. The survivor gets one more hook state before death but all progressive actions (healing, gens, gates) are at half-speed for the rest of the match. By contract, the survivor's aura and the killer's will be revealed to each other in the endgame collapse.

Flies in a Web - The lure of something tasty can be a tragic downfall. Two chests in the game are covered with a spiderweb that becomes visible after a survivor interacts with the chest. They're held in place for 15 seconds and a notification is given to the killer (additional notifications occur if the survivor struggles, but the effect wears off more quickly if they struggle). The chest can be opened normally after the web is activated.

Addons

(iri) Liminal Teacup - When hooking a survivor, any survivors within a 30-meter radius doing a progressive action (gens, healing) stop what they're doing (are interrupted).

(purple) Sewing Kit (patchwork hat) - Adds an extra 10 seconds to webs. When "Flies in a Web" is equipped, if no chests are disturbed for the entire round, one of the gate switches is webbed instead.

Check out the rest of the crew and their amazing works via the #hookedonhazbin2024 tag!

FrauGwinska's event masterlist!

Hooked on Hazbin 2024 AO3 Collection!

Thanks for reading and happy Halloween! 🎃👻

[the-one-who-lambs]

uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

[silkval]

♜】 the innermost alphabet

》 content desc/warnings

a tiiiny bit suggestive, mainly just descriptive, boothill being clingy (canon), boothill has mecha body but still has all senses, no particular dom/sub roles, boothill nor readers anatomy specified

★fujoshis, fem aligned and minors please fuck off- you will be blocked★

𝔄 》 Affection

how do they react to it? how often do they show it?

well, boothill is not one to shy away from showing affection to his beloved boyfriend- not one bit. It's like he's got this whole repertoire of gestures just waiting to spill out at any given moment. you'll catch him throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in so you're practically attached at the hip with nothing but a grin and a cheeky murmur to excuse the proximity oh, and do not get him started on when you initiate any affection- this man is putty in your hands. holding on just a tad longer than what's considered normal, it does get a little stuffy with the small space between the two of you, but it's not all that bad- just to hear the thrum of his motors speeding up, and even the occasional familiar ‘click’ of his cooling system kicking in because he's just so damn happy to be in your hold. but that isn't all boothill's got a knack for some little, more discreet touches too; a hand on the small of your back, fingers brushing against yours when passing something over, or leaning in real close just to be able to hear your voice drop an octave, all quiet and slightly raspy in a way that makes his mechanical heart whirr with how intimate it feels. just a total sweetheart, honestly.

𝔅》 Behavior

do they have any small habits, absentminded tics or such?

oh, he's got his quirks alright. one thing you'll notice real quick is that this guy always needs something to do with his hands- It's like they're damn allergic to being idle. whether it's twirling a piece of straw between his fingers or absentmindedly tapping along to a tune stuck in his head, they're always in motion- but when he's with you, those hands seem to have a mind of their own. they'll find their way to you, resting comfortably around your waist or brushing against your back with nothing but a sly, lopsided grin. And I swear, this guy may have… a little bit of an obsession, as you'll often find him leaning in rather close. Like, very close- why? well, when you ask him, you'll notice a slight pause- an indication of fluster- and a delayed “y’smell good, okay?” It's endearing, honestly- like he can't help himself, drawn to your scent like a moth to a flame. And when he gets that close, you'll feel the weight of his chin resting atop your head or shoulder, which, by default, is rather innocent- yet if you let him get a little too close to your neck, it's not uncommon for things to get a little heated.

hjeeeeeeeeeeezusz. this took ages to start but at least something is out lol. ANYWAY. I'm gonna try release 2 letters per 1-2 weeks- not sure if I'm gonna stick with pretty boy boothill or switch it up ever so n so. but yeah. here's to the start of a new (and hopefully more maintainable) series!!!