#three bees in a bag charm

[wytchoftheways]

This is my version of the three bees in a bag charm housed in the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic; Hung in the best room of the house, they will bring good fortune, happiness, health and sweet luck. This version includes a hag stone and allspice, and are held in a black bag for protective qualities. 🐝

[hottiesforhockey]

mutual pining ⎜n.hischier

pairings: nico hischier x afab!midsized!reader genre: romance ⎜fuff ⎜ slow burn? ⎜ warnings: pure cuteness ⎜ nico is literally so sweet ⎜ p in v ⎜ body worship?⎜ slight overstimulation ⎜oral (f receiving) ⎜fingering ⎜ nico is a giver ⎜ reader goes by bee (its a nickname)⎜midsized!reader ⎜ reader is a little insecure sometimes ⎜ mentions of previous shitty ex ⎜ sad nico? ⎜confused reader constantly⎜ apologies in advance for the ending ⎜ synopsis: your sister convinces you to tag along on her trip to Switzerland to visit her long distance boyfriend - you didn't expect his younger brother to be there let alone just your type. word count: 12.6k authors note:  this is my first nico story ever and it's a doozy! it was the clear winner of my poll so I hope those of you who voted will enjoy! also just incase you didn't see in the warnings but the reader will go by the nickname bee!(barely) but I tried to keep her descriptions to a minimum

(unedited)

“He said he would be waiting at the baggage claim for us.” You sister says as she glances down at her phone, confirming her statement with the message her boyfriend had sent earlier. 

“I still don’t know how you ended up in a long distance relationship with a professional athlete.” You retort, pulling your backpack higher on your shoulders before adding, “Just kind of a wild situation, you know.” You sister just nods in agreement, having stated herself how strange the relationship had come about. 

“What can I say? I must just be that addictive.” She coos, at you, her face lighting up as the doors to the baggage claim slide open. She leaves you in the dust as she rushes forwards dropping her bag before leaping into the arms of her admittedly much larger boyfriend, who looks equally as excited to see her - whispering in her ear as she digs her face into his shoulder. 

Your sister had met the Swiss Hockey Player while on a short vacation around Europe stopping in Switzerland for about a week before planning to move on to Italy - she had called you the night she met the large Swiss man already head over heels for the charming brunette after one, slightly tipsy, night together. 

And as it stands the large Swiss man was equally as obsessed with her - the two immediately starting a long distance relationship after spending another week together in Italy, where he had followed her refusing to let their time together finish so soon. 

Judging by the goo goo eyes they are already making at each other it was going to be a long three weeks. 

“Hurry up.” You sister shouts as you dawdle over to the couple, trying to give them some time out of earshot to greet each other properly. “Luca, this is my little sister, Bee.” You sister introduces you quickly, Luca turning to you with a beaming smile, and a friendly hand extended. 

“Nice to meet you, Luca.” You say quietly as you join your hands giving it a firm shake before letting your hand fall back to your side. “Sorry I’m not as energetic as Mia but it’s been a long trip.” You laugh softly, pushing some loose hair off your forehead before shooting your sister a look. 

“Oh yes, we better get you two back to the house.” Luca says quickly, his hand firm on your sisters waist as he guides her to the baggage carousel. “Just let us know which bags are yours.” Luca says quietly, leaning over your sister to make sure you heard him. 

“Us?” You question in confusion. 

“My little brother Nico is staying with us too.” Luca notes casually, your eyes shooting over to your sister who’s already mouthing a silent apology. When you had agreed to come on this trip, your sister had promised it would mainly be you and her and the beautiful summer mountains of Switzerland - it wasn’t until two days ago that she informed you, you would be staying with her boyfriend. 

You had no issues with your sister wanting to spend some time with her boyfriend who she hadn’t seen in months but the idea of forced socialisation was not high on your vacation wishlist - and now another stranger would be thrown into the mix. “Suck it up.” Your sister hisses through her teeth as she leans towards you. “Nico is really nice, I think you two will get along.” She adds, motioning her head to the broad brunette now standing besides her boyfriend. 

“Nico this is Mia’s little sister, the one I was telling you about.” Luca says quickly, his hand guiding his brothers attention in your direction. You don’t miss the pointed look Luca gives his brother, his reminder obviously sparking something inside Nico who quickly turns his full attention to you - his big brown eyes stealing every thought you’d ever had in your life. 

You give Nico a quick nod of acknowledgment before spotting your baby blue suitcase coming around the corner, avoiding anymore stunted silence by moving forwards to grab hold of it. “Here, let me get that for you.” Nico says softly as he follows behind you, grabbing hold of the suitcase before you can, pulling it off the carousel with ease. “Which one is your sisters?” He asks, not looking away from the baggage as you point out the soft pink suitcase following closely behind yours. 

Nico does the same for your sister’s bag, gently pulling it from the track and setting it beside yours. As you reach out to take your suitcase back, Nico pulls it just out of reach, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’ve got it. Don’t worry.” He says with a playful grin. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, right?”

You can’t help but smile at the teasing tone, though inwardly, you curse your body’s reaction to men you barely know. “I guess so,” you reply, trying to sound casual as you meet his gaze.

Luca and Mia are already a few steps ahead, engaged in a quiet conversation. Nico is right beside you now, still holding your suitcase with an effortless air, as though it’s no more than a feather in his large hands.

“So,” you start, trying to fill the awkward space with something, “What’s it like being a professional hockey player?” The question feels a bit dull, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. You remember your sister mentioning how despite Luca being a professional Swiss hockey player the families true pride was in the youngest, Nico, being selected to play in the NHL. 

“It’s not all glitz and glamour,” Nico replies with a casual shrug, his voice easy and unbothered. “Early mornings, long practices, and constant travel. It’s hard being away from home, but hockey’s my life. I wouldn’t trade it.”

You nod, impressed by how down-to-earth he is despite his career. It’s a side of athletes you don’t often see on TV.

“That sounds… challenging.”

“Yeah, but the game is worth it,” he says, glancing over at you with a quiet smile. “Plus, there’s always Bern to come back to. The city’s never too far from my mind.” You both walk out into the warm Bern summer afternoon, the sun still high in the sky, the city alive with activity. Luca locates the car quickly - ushering your sister into the passenger seat as he pulls the trunk open, helping his younger brother lift both suitcases inside before shutting it, sliding into the drivers side besides your sister. 

Nico’s eyes flicker to you again, his smile widening. “Ladies first.” He comments as he opens the back door for you, watching as you slide into the seat, shuffling across to the far side of the car - Nico joining you shortly after. 

The car hums to life, and Nico leans back in his seat, one arm casually resting on the door as the vehicle pulls away from the airport. You settle into the plush interior, your hands neatly folded in your lap, though your mind is anything but calm. The way Nico speaks, his deep voice a contrast to the soft, warm tone, it lingers with you, a subtle undercurrent beneath the otherwise normal conversation happening in the front seats.

Mia is already chatting away with Luca, the two of them laughing about something you didn’t quite catch. You find yourself glancing at Nico once more, his posture relaxed but somehow still commanding in the space of the car.

“Are you excited to be in Switzerland for the summer?” Nico’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you blink, realising he’s been waiting for you to respond.

“Yeah, I think it’s going to be nice. It’s a lot different than where I’m from, but it’s peaceful, you know?” You hesitate, wondering if he’s even interested in hearing about your home, but Nico’s focused attention encourages you to continue.

“It is a bit of a change,” Nico comments. His voice seems warm, as though he’s trying to put you at ease, despite the subtle tension hanging in the air. “I’ve never been to Australia, but I’ve heard good things.”

“You should visit,” you say before you can stop yourself. You immediately feel a flush creep up your neck, the way his eyes lock with yours making your words feel too forward, too personal.

Nico smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe someday.” He seems to be considering it, and something in your chest tightens, like an unspoken promise hanging in the air between you.

Mia and Luca continue their conversation in the front seats, but you’re no longer focused on them. Nico is still looking at you, his gaze soft, as though he’s waiting for you to say something more, something deeper. But what could you possibly say to someone like him?

“You and Mia seem... close,” you finally say, choosing something safe, but it’s enough to break the tension.

Nico’s smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that makes you feel like you’ve just scratched the surface of who he is. “Yeah, she’s like a sister to me. We hung out a lot last time she came to see Luca,” he says, laughing softly. “She’s just... a force of nature. I know she’s happy with Luca, though, and that’s all that matters.”

You nod, feeling a little more at ease now that the conversation is off of you. The drive continues for a few minutes in silence, save for the soft hum of the car and the occasional laugh from the front seats. You can’t help but steal glances at Nico every now and then, though, wondering what else lies beneath that easygoing exterior of his.

The city of Bern slowly gives way to the lush, green landscapes of the countryside, the picturesque mountains rising in the distance. Your thoughts keep drifting back to Nico’s calm demeanour, his gentle teasing, and that fleeting moment when it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

The car takes a turn off the main road, winding through smaller paths that lead to a beautiful chalet nestled among towering trees. The house looks like something out of a magazine—modern yet rustic, with wide glass windows framing the serene mountain view. You’re just about to comment on how stunning it is when Nico speaks again, breaking your thoughts.

“You’ll like it here,” he says, his voice quieter now, more assured. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

The words are simple, but they carry an unspoken weight that makes you feel, for a moment, like you’ve been let in on a secret. You give him a small smile, unsure of how to respond to that, but grateful for his reassurance.

Luca parks the car in front of the house, turning off the engine. He leans back in his seat, glancing at the two of you in the back. “Well, welcome to Bern,” he says with a grin. “Let’s get inside before the jet lag hits you two.”

Mia opens her door first, quickly followed by Luca. Nico hesitates for a moment before stepping out of the car and rushing around to the other side of the car offering you a hand, which you take gratefully, feeling the weight of his hand in yours for a second longer than necessary.

“You head inside, look around - I’ll grab your bags.” Nico says his voice quieter as he slowly pulls his hand away from yours, his other hand holding the car door open as you slip further away from the car. You hesitate for a moment, Nico nodding for you to go ahead, your feet not wasting any more time in following after the couple who just went inside - hoping to god you find a bed soon. 

“You can sleep in here, there is a bathroom through that door and a closet if you want to unpack anything - we’ll be just down the hall and Nico’s room is right across there.” Your sister explains pointing in different directions as she goes, her eyebrows raising briefly as she points to the door to Nico’s room. 

“Don’t even start with that.” You sneer, your sister throwing her hands up in defence. 

“I’m just saying he’s not a bad dude, and after what happened with Joh—” 

“Don’t please.” 

“He’s a good guy, Bee. Give him a shot to worm his way into that cold dead heart of yours.” Your sister continues, ignoring the glare you send her way, patting your head lightly before making her way down the hall to her shared bedroom with Luca, the door closing softly behind her. 

You let out a long sigh, pinching your nose before retreating into the bedroom - closing the door behind you before flopping onto the mattress, melting into the plush blankets as sleep overwhelms you. 

+

+

The room is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun when you finally stir, a sense of disorientation tugging at you. For a moment, you forget where you are—the unfamiliar warmth of the air, the faint hum of nature outside, and the plush comfort of the bed beneath you all feel dreamlike. It isn’t until you turn your head and notice the neatly folded blanket draped over you that the pieces begin to fall into place.

Sitting up slowly, you glance around the room. Your suitcase sits neatly in the corner, its zipper slightly ajar as if someone had checked to ensure it made the journey unscathed. The thought pulls a soft smile to your lips; you already have a suspicion about who might have taken the time to do that.

Stretching out, you catch the faint sound of laughter drifting through the open window, voices carrying from somewhere outside. Curious, you pad over to the window, pushing aside the sheer curtain to peer out. Below, you spot Mia and Luca sitting on the edge of the deck, their legs dangling over the side as they sip what looks like glasses of wine. Nico is standing a few feet away from them, leaning casually against the railing with a beer in hand, his posture as relaxed as ever. You watch as he says something to your sister - her head nodding before he turns to make his way back into the house, your steps leading you over to your bed to refold the blanket and place it at the end of the bed where it was when you arrived. 

A gentle knock on the door pulls your attention away, and you turn just in time to see it crack open. Nico's head appears, his dark eyes meeting yours with a soft, apologetic smile.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you," he says quietly. "Mia said you might still be out, but I wanted to check if you’re hungry. Dinner’s ready if you want to join us."You hesitate, still shaking off the remnants of sleep, but there’s something in his tone—gentle, patient—that makes you nod.

"Yeah, give me a minute," you say, your voice still a little groggy.

Nico steps back, nodding. "Take your time. We’re on the back deck."

As the door clicks shut, you take a deep breath, smoothing down your hair and glancing in the mirror. The sleep lines on your face are a stark reminder of how exhausted you were, but there’s no undoing that now. Besides, the promise of food—and maybe a little fresh air—sounds too good to pass up.

When you finally step outside onto the patio, the warm, golden light of the sunset greets you, casting long shadows over the wooden floorboards. The air is cool but pleasant, carrying the scent of pine and something delicious wafting from the small grill set up nearby.

"There she is!" Mia beams, waving you over enthusiastically. "Thought we’d lost you to the jet lag forever."

"Almost," you admit with a sheepish grin, taking a seat at the table where a spread of grilled vegetables, fresh bread, and what looks like marinated chicken is waiting. Nico moves to set another plate down in front of you, his movements quiet but purposeful.

"Hope you like simple meals," he says as he straightens up, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

"Looks amazing," you reply, meaning it. The sight of the food is enough to make your stomach rumble audibly, earning a laugh from Mia. Dinner is lively, Mia and Luca carrying most of the conversation with stories and jokes, their chemistry palpable. Nico chimes in every so often, his dry humor catching you off guard but making you laugh nonetheless. You find yourself stealing glances at him when you think he’s not looking, curious about the subtle shifts in his expressions as he listens to the others.

As the evening deepens, the conversation begins to quiet, the group falling into a comfortable lull. The stars begin to appear overhead, and you find your gaze wandering upward, the beauty of the glowing night sky pulling a soft sigh from your lips.

"Pretty different from the city, huh?" Nico’s voice is quiet, meant just for you. You glance at him, finding his eyes already on you, reflecting the faint light of the stars. For a moment, you forget to breathe, caught off guard by the way he looks at you—steady and intent, like he’s truly seeing you.

"Yeah," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s… peaceful." Nico’s lips curve into a small, thoughtful smile, and he leans back in his chair, his gaze lifting to the stars above. 

"You get used to it. But it’s nice, seeing someone appreciate it for the first time." You don’t know what to say to that, so you let the silence settle between you, a strange but not unwelcome tension hanging in the air. It’s not uncomfortable—it’s something else entirely, something you can’t quite name but don’t want to push away. For the first time since you arrived, you feel a flicker of something unexpected—an unfamiliar warmth that has nothing to do with the summer air. 

The warmth lingers as the night deepens, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The gentle murmur of crickets rises, filling the silence between the sporadic bursts of conversation around the table. You watch as Luca pours another glass of wine for Mia, his hand brushing hers in a way that seems unconscious yet deliberate. There's something soothing about their easy familiarity, the way they move around each other like pieces of a puzzle that have always fit.

Your gaze drifts back to Nico. He's leaned back in his chair now, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his beer long forgotten on the table. There's an ease to him, but it’s clear he’s observing, soaking in the atmosphere in a way that feels distinctly different from the others. It makes you wonder what he's thinking, what stories he keeps locked behind that quiet demeanor.

"Hey," Mia calls, pulling you out of your thoughts. "We were just saying we should go for a hike tomorrow. There’s a great trail not far from here. You up for it?"

You blink, caught off guard. Hiking wasn’t exactly on your agenda when you arrived, but Mia’s enthusiasm is contagious. Before you can answer, Nico speaks up, his voice calm but firm.

"Let her settle in first. She just got here." He glances at you, his brow lifting slightly as if to gauge your reaction. "You don’t have to feel pressured."

Mia rolls her eyes but laughs. "Fine, fine. You can play tour guide when she’s ready."

You chuckle softly, appreciating the out Nico has given you, even if you don’t take it. "A hike actually sounds nice. Maybe not anything too intense, though."

"Deal," Mia says, grinning. "We’ll start with the easy trail. It’s mostly flat, but the view at the end is worth it."

The conversation shifts again, and you let yourself fade into the background, content to listen. The laughter and camaraderie feel grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos of the life you left behind, if only temporarily. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this relaxed, this… present.

When the gathering finally winds down, Nico is the first to rise, collecting plates and stacking them with quiet efficiency. You stand as well, reaching for the empty glass in front of you, but he shakes his head.

"I’ve got it," he says simply, his tone leaving little room for argument.

"You sure? I don’t mind helping," you offer, unsure why you feel compelled to insist.

He pauses, meeting your gaze again with that same steady look. "I’m sure. Go enjoy the stars while you can."

There’s something in his voice that makes you obey, though you linger just a moment longer, watching as he carries the dishes inside. It’s a small thing, but the gesture feels significant in a way you can’t quite explain.

You step to the edge of the deck, leaning against the railing as your eyes lift to the heavens. The stars are brighter than you remember, each one like a tiny pinprick of light in the velvet sky. It’s breathtaking in its simplicity, the kind of beauty that makes you feel both small and infinite all at once.

Footsteps approach behind you, and you glance over your shoulder to see Nico returning, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets. He stops a few feet away, his expression wondering.

"Thanks for dinner," you say quietly, feeling the need to fill the space between you. "It was really nice."

He nods, his lips curving into that faint smile again. "Glad you enjoyed it."

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching like a thin thread between you. Then, almost imperceptibly, Nico shifts closer, resting his forearms on the railing beside you. His shoulder brushes yours lightly, and the warmth of the contact sends a faint shiver down your spine.

"You planning to stay out here all night?" he asks, his tone teasing but gentle.

“I guess it is getting a little cold.” You agree, finally pushing yourself off the railing, crossing your arms over your chest as you rub the bare skin - Nico falling into steps besides you as you both climb the small hill towards the house. The silence is comfortable, the two of you sinking into your own thoughts as you make your way up the stairs and to you respective doors, Nico glancing once over his shoulder as he watches you enter your bedroom and slowly close the door, a small smile on his face. 

He knew what his brother was doing when he suggest Nico stay in the room opposite yours - and he knew what his brother and your sister were doing by insisting he come spend the summer at the lake house instead of at the family home closer to the city. 

And yet a large part of him was thankful for their meddling, cause without them he wouldn’t have met you. 

A girl who looks at the stars as if she’d never seen them before. 

+

+

“Luca said it’s probably a good idea to wearing a bathing suit under your clothes.” You sister says as she swings open your bedroom door, your shirt just being pulled over your head. “He said there’s a small waterfall near the top and it’s nice to go for a swim.” She adds, looking down at your outfit before shaking her head. 

“Nope, you can do better then that.” She dismisses, walking over to your suitcase starting to dig around before you even get a chance to respond. “This one is perfect.” She says pulling out the black high cut one piece from your suitcase, throwing it across the room to you. 

“What? No, I can’t hike with that on underneath my clothes.” You exclaim, looking at the swim suit in shock, you forgot you even packed that. 

“Why not - it’ll make your ass look fantastic.” 

“Umm, maybe because it offers no support and it’s essentially a thong.” You respond, turning it around to show her the barely there strip of fabric that was suppose to cover your ass. 

“Yeah well not everything is about functionality.” She snorts, insisting you wear it before leaving you to change. You hesitantly pull on the one piece swimsuit, already feeling the fabric riding up your ass, before pulling on your shorts and oversized t-shirt. 

“At least I thought to pack hiking boots.” You mumble to yourself as you tighten the shoes on your feet, thankful that you at least could try to avoid some blisters if your sister was determined to give your butt crack a rash. You stomp your way downstairs, glaring at your sister as you watch the two brothers fill two hiking packs with snacks and water - Nico shoving a few towels in a third pack. 

“I can take that.” You say quickly, snatching the bag off the counter as he zips it shut - shooting him a smile and turning to follow the couple out of the house before he has any room to argue. 

The morning air is crisp and cool as the four of you set off down the dirt path leading away from the house. The forest is alive with the sounds of chirping birds and the distant rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Despite the awkward start to your day, you’re beginning to feel the excitement building. The idea of a hike—complete with a hidden waterfall—feels like the kind of adventure you hadn’t realised you were craving.

Mia and Luca lead the way, their hands brushing occasionally as they walk side by side. You trail behind them with Nico a step or two behind you, his presence quiet but grounding. The pack on your back isn’t meant to be heavy, but you can feel the straps digging in slightly, a reminder of the towels you insisted on carrying.

It’s just towels how the hell does it feel so heavy? 

"Sure you don’t want me to take that?" Nico’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s looking at you with a raised eyebrow, his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

"I’ve got it," you insist, your tone light but firm. You’re not about to let him think you can’t handle carrying a simple bag.

He nods, his expression unreadable but faintly amused. "Alright. Just say the word if you change your mind."

The trail begins to incline, the terrain growing rockier as you ascend. Sweat beads on your brow despite the coolness of the morning, and you focus on your footing, determined not to trip over a loose stone or stray root. Mia and Luca are chatting animatedly ahead, their voices carrying back to you in bursts, but you’re too distracted by the strain in your thighs and the increasing awareness of the swimsuit under your clothes to pay attention.

"You okay up there?" Nico’s voice comes again, closer this time. You glance over your shoulder to see him just behind you, his dark eyes scanning you with mild concern.

"Fine," you say quickly, though your breathlessness betrays you. "Just… haven’t done this in a while." He smirks, his pace matching yours effortlessly. 

"You’re doing fine. Mia usually drags people up here faster. Guess she’s going easy on you."

You snort softly at that, grateful for the distraction of his dry humor. "I’ll have to thank her later."

The trees begin to thin as you approach a clearing, and the sound of rushing water grows louder, the promise of the waterfall spurring you on. When you finally break through the last of the foliage, the sight takes your breath away. The waterfall cascades down a rocky ledge, its water glistening in the sunlight as it spills into a crystal-clear pool below. The air is cooler here, misting faintly around you as if the scene itself is enchanted.

"Wow," you breathe, pausing at the edge of the clearing.

Mia grins, already kicking off her shoes. "Told you it was worth it!" She turns to Luca, who’s already peeling off his shirt, revealing a tan, athletic frame.

You hesitate, your gaze flicking to the pool and then to Nico, who’s unzipping his pack and pulling out a bottle of water. His movement is efficient, and there’s something about the way his shirt clings to his back that has your mouth going dry. You shake the thought away quickly, reminding yourself to stay focused.

"Well," Mia says, turning to you with a mischievous grin. "Time to test out that swimsuit."

You groan, your cheeks heating as she waves you toward the water. "Don’t make it weird," you mutter, kicking off your boots and socks. You push you shorts down your legs glad for the oversized shirt still covering your ass that’s hanging out, hoping no one’s paying attention as you take a deep breath stripping off your shit down to the swimsuit. The high cut and minimal coverage feeling more scandalous out in the open, and you resist the urge to tug at the fabric as you step to the edge of the pool.

“Wowza my little sister has tits.” You sister whistles from the water, Luca glancing over his shoulder as he shoots you a teasing grin, letting out a low whistle. 

“If I wasn’t dating your sister, you’d be top of my list little bee.” He coos, letting out a grunt as your sister slams her elbow into his side. He whispers a soft apology kissing her cheek gently before paddling away from her. 

"Looks good," Nico says offhandedly, his tone neutral but enough to make you pause. You glance at him sharply, but he’s already looking away, his focus seemingly on the towels he’s laying out on a flat rock.

Your sister giggles, shooting you a knowing look, but you refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, you take a deep breath and step into the water, the coolness wrapping around your legs and immediately refreshing your overheated skin.

"Cold?" Nico asks as he steps up beside you, his voice low enough that Mia and Luca don’t hear.

"A little," you admit, glancing at him. He smirks again, his eyes glinting with amusement, raking slowly down your body before snapping up to your face, his expression now stone cold as he takes another step towards the water. 

"You’ll get used to it." And with that, he wades in farther, the water lapping at his waist before he ducks under completely. When he surfaces, his hair slicked back and water streaming down his face, you feel your breath catch—not from the cold, but from the way he seems utterly at ease, like he belongs here.

You shake the thought away, diving in after him. The water envelopes you, cool and invigorating, and when you resurface, you feel lighter—freer. 

“Want to climb up there?” Mia’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and you turn to find her pointing to a ledge halfway up the waterfall. You squint at the spot, the cascading water making it look more slippery than inviting.

“What, so I can slip and break my neck?”

“No, so you can jump off!” Mia exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “It’s not that high, and the pool’s deep enough. Luca’s done it a million times.” Luca, now fully sprawled on his precarious rock, overhears and shoots a thumbs-up.

“Highly recommend! Best adrenaline rush you’ll get around here.”

You hesitate, glancing toward Nico as if for a second opinion. He doesn’t say anything, but the faintest hint of a smile tugs at his lips as he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at him,” Mia chides, grabbing your arm. “You’re doing this.”

With no room to argue, you let her drag you toward the rocks along the edge of the pool. The climb isn’t as treacherous as it first seemed, though your heart pounds with each step closer to the top. When you finally reach the ledge, the view takes your breath away—a panoramic glimpse of the forest stretching out beyond the pool below, sunlight glinting off the water’s surface like diamonds.

“Okay, now just jump!” Mia says, beaming as if this is the simplest thing in the world. You glance down, your stomach flipping at the height. It’s not exactly terrifying, but it’s far enough to make you hesitate. “What if I land wrong?”

“You won’t,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Just aim for the middle and tuck your legs if you’re scared. Easy.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, peering over the edge again. From below, Luca hollers encouragement, and Nico’s gaze is locked on you, calm and steady.

“You’ve got this,” Nico calls, his voice cutting through the rush of the falls. It’s not loud, but it carries enough conviction to steady your nerves.

Taking a deep breath, you step to the edge and count silently. One, two—

And then you leap.

The fall is exhilarating, a brief moment of weightlessness that sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins. The water greets you with a cool, refreshing embrace, and when you resurface, the sheer thrill of it has you laughing out loud. Mia cheers from the ledge above before cannonballing in after you, her splash sending ripples through the pool. Luca hoots his approval, and even Nico offers a nod of acknowledgment as you float on the surface, still grinning.

“See? Told you it was worth it,” Mia says, shaking water from her hair as she paddles closer.

“Okay, you were right,” you admit, your heart still racing. “But I’m never doing that again.”

“Liar,” she shoots back with a wink.

You glance at Nico, who’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—something between amusement and quiet admiration. For a moment, the world feels smaller, quieter, the sounds of laughter and rushing water fading into the background.

And then, just as quickly, he breaks eye contact, slipping back into the water and disappearing beneath the surface. You watch the water where he disappeared, waiting for him to pop back up with no luck - is he aqua man how is he holding his breath for so long? 

You tread water, watching as Luca and Mia exit the water, setting up camp on two towels right under the sun, a harsh tug on your ankle ripping a squeal from your as you’re pulled under the water.  Firm hands land on your waist as Nico hauls you back to the surface, his laugh echoing in the space as you both surface, his dimples digging into his cheeks as you swat at his chest. 

“Not funny, Nico.” You hiss, frowning at him as he lets out another round of laughter, the sound so unlike anything you’d heard from him before - sounding so similar to that of a giggle then the manly voice that usually escapes him. 

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He apologises quickly adding, “It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.” His hands are still firm on your waist as his laughter dies away his expression serious for a moment as he leans in whispering softly. 

“They’re right you know.” He says, his gaze flicking to your siblings before back to you, “the swimsuit looks incredible on you.” Nico leaves you sputtering his hands gently grazing down to your hips before releasing you, and making the short swim back to shore, your brain taking a moment to catch up before you swim after him. 

You follow Nico back to the shore, your heart pounding—not just from the exertion of swimming but from the lingering sensation of his hands on your waist and the low timbre of his voice. Did he really just say that? Your cheeks burn as you replay his words, and you’re grateful for the water concealing any hint of your flustered state.

Mia and Luca are sprawled on their towels, already engrossed in some lighthearted argument about what to cook for dinner. Nico grabs another towel from the pile, running it over his hair before draping it around his neck. He doesn’t glance your way, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he knows exactly what kind of chaos he’s left in his wake.

You sit down on your own towel, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the horizon as you attempt to gather your thoughts. The warmth of the sun on your skin and the gentle rustle of the forest around you should be calming, but your mind is spinning. 

What did he mean by that? Was he teasing, or…?

Mia interrupts your internal spiral by nudging you with her foot. "So, when’s the next jump?" she teases, her grin wide and mischievous.

"Never," you reply quickly, grabbing the towel and wrapping it tighter around yourself. “I’m retiring from cliff diving.”

“Sure you are,” Luca says with a laugh, tossing a granola bar your way. “You’ll be back up there before the day’s over.”

You roll your eyes but catch the granola bar, peeling it open and taking a bite as you sneak a glance at Nico. He’s leaning back on his elbows now, his gaze fixed on the sky as if he hasn’t a care in the world. 

As the sun begins to dip lower, painting the clearing in hues of gold and orange, the group starts packing up to head home. Nico’s quiet for most of the walk back, but you can feel his presence behind you, steady and grounding. Every now and then, you catch him glancing your way, his expression unreadable but leaving you wondering what’s going on in his head.

When you finally reach the house, the familiar smell of fresh air and pine clinging to your skin, you’re met with a new challenge: pretending everything is normal. Mia and Luca immediately collapse onto the couch, talking animatedly about their plans to make pasta for dinner. You excuse yourself, heading upstairs for a much-needed shower.

Under the hot water, you replay the day’s events—the jump, the laughter, the way Nico looked at you. His words echo in your mind, and you find yourself smiling despite your confusion. By the time you finish and step out of the bathroom, you’ve convinced yourself it was all just playful teasing.

But when you head back downstairs, Nico’s the first to look up from his spot at the kitchen counter. His gaze locks on yours for a heartbeat longer than it should, and the faintest smile tugs at his lips.

Maybe it wasn’t teasing after all.

+

+

Two weeks moved by quickly - your days often starting with a hearty home cooked breakfast and lounging by the lake - more often then not your time spent sprawled on a beach towel, watching your sister and her boyfriend fall deeper in love with each other. Luca had pulled you aside early on Sunday morning, your final week in Switzerland quickly approaching. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something, really quickly.” He says quietly, his gaze shooting over to your sister who is sprawled across the couch, fast asleep. You nod, letting Luca lead the way out of the house, his eyes glancing over his shoulder every now and then to make sure no one follows you out of the house. When you reach a spot a safe distance away Luca finally stops, taking in a deep breath before blurting out. 

“I want to marry your sister.” 

Your breath catches for a moment, not out of shock but at the suddenness of his confession. Luca's face is flushed, his usually calm and collected demeanour replaced by an almost boyish nervousness. He quickly continues, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if afraid you'd interrupt.

"I know it might seem fast, and I get that. But I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. She’s… she’s everything to me. And I wanted to come to you first because I respect you, and I know how close you two are."

He shifts his weight, running a hand through his hair, his usual confidence wavering. "I’ve been carrying the ring around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. But I need to know you’re okay with it. That we have your blessing too."

You’re silent for a beat, the gravity of his words settling over you. It’s not as though you hadn’t noticed the way Luca looked at your sister—like she was the sun and he’d never tire of basking in her warmth. But hearing his intentions laid out so plainly catches you off guard.

"What if I said no?" you ask, your tone light, testing.

Luca’s eyes widen slightly, but to his credit, he doesn’t falter. "Then I’d keep trying. I’d keep proving myself until you saw what I see. But I hope you won’t say no."

A small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. His sincerity is disarming, and as much as the thought of your sister marrying someone might make you protective, you can’t deny the truth in his words. They’re good together—good for each other.

"You’re sure about this?" you ask, tilting your head. "Because it’s not just about loving her, you know. It’s about being patient when she’s stubborn, supporting her when she’s feeling lost, and—"

"—And reminding her every day how incredible she is," Luca finishes, his voice steady now. "Yes. I’m sure."

For a moment, you study him, searching for any cracks in his resolve. But there are none. What you find instead is a man who loves your sister with his whole heart. And in that moment, you know you can’t deny him.

"Alright," you finally say, crossing your arms with a small smirk. "But if you ever hurt her, you’ll have to answer to me."

Luca exhales, relief washing over his features, and he nods earnestly. "Deal."

The two of you start walking back to the house, the tension from earlier replaced with an easy camaraderie. As you step onto the porch, Luca pauses, looking at you one last time.

“Thank you," he says softly. "It means a lot."

You nod, glancing toward the window where your sister is still asleep, oblivious to the conversation that just took place. "Just make her happy, Luca. That’s all I ask." Luca nods once with determination, turning back to you quickly with an apologetic look on his face. 

“Um, there’s a chance we might not be home tonight.” He warns, a wide eyed look on your face as he bounds up the stairs, the small square box more obvious in his pant pocket as he walks. 

“I take it he finally told you?” Nico’s voice makes you jump, his body radiating heat as he steps up besides you, a small smile on his face as he looks up to where his brother just disappeared. 

“You knew?” 

“I knew since the first time he told me about her.” Nico admits, his smile growing as the memory of his brothers immediate infatuation hits him. “I guess it’s just you and I tonight then.” He adds, his grin changing from soft to teasing, his eyes dropping to yours for a moment before glancing back up the stairs. 

“I suppose I better make it worth your while.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans forwards, his breath ghosting over your lips - his finger tip ever so gently pushing a piece of hair away from your face. 

Your heart skips a beat as Nico's words hang in the air, the playful glint in his eyes offset by the way his gaze lingers on you, filled with something deeper. You’re caught between his closeness and the sudden intimacy of the moment, unsure whether to lean into it or laugh it off. 

Before you can decide, the front door creaks open behind you, and both of you instinctively step apart. The interruption feels jarring, pulling you back to reality. It’s just the wind, you realize, but the moment has shifted.

Nico chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry, I couldn’t help myself," he murmurs, though there’s no real regret in his voice. Instead, there’s a teasing warmth, a sense of waiting to see how you’ll respond.

You give him a playful nudge, breaking the tension with a small laugh. "Smooth, Hischier."

Nico grins, his dimples on full display, and the sight makes your stomach flip. Turning back toward the house before he can see the blush creeping up your neck. "I’m not as easy to impress as my sister, you’ll have to work hard to gain my favour."

"Challenge accepted," Nico calls after you, his laughter chasing you through the house.

+

+

The evening comes quietly, the house settling into a tranquil lull without Luca and your sister around. True to his word, Nico sticks by your side, his easy humour keeping the night light as the two of you make dinner together.

You find yourself watching him as he moves around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, his focus shifting between the chopping board and the stovetop. There’s a comfort in his presence, an ease that you hadn’t realised you’d grown to enjoy over the past two weeks.

At some point, Nico catches you staring, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. "What?" he asks, his voice soft but curious.

"Nothing," you say quickly, looking away, but the warmth in his gaze makes it hard to hide your smile.

Later, after the dishes are cleared and the sun has set, the two of you find yourselves on the couch , a bottle of wine between you. All the windows in the house are open, the cooling breeze just barely easing the burning in your skin, Nico’s gaze heating you up from the inside. 

"You know," Nico begins, breaking the silence, "I think this is the first time I’ve had my brother to thank for something like this."

"Like what?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He tilts his head toward you, his expression soft but intent. "For meeting you."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. But as you meet his gaze, the guarded part of your heart begins to crack, just a little, under the weight of his honesty.

"I guess I’ll have to thank him too," you say softly, and Nico’s smile grows, quiet and full of promise. 

The stars above seem impossibly bright outside, their reflection on the lake shimmering like liquid silver in the quiet night. The air feels thick with unspoken words, the kind that settle into comfortable silence but beg to be released. You steal a glance at Nico, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the low lights in the house. His eyes are fixed on the lake, but there’s something contemplative about his expression, like he’s wrestling with whether to speak.

Finally, he turns to you, his voice low, intimate. "You ever have one of those moments where you feel like everything’s exactly as it’s meant to be?"

His question catches you off guard, but the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the answer to that very thought—leaves you breathless.

"Maybe," you reply, your voice just above a whisper. "I think I’m starting to understand what that feels like."

Nico’s lips curve into a soft smile, the kind that’s both tender and sure. He leans a little closer, his elbows resting on his knees as his gaze stays locked on yours. 

"Good," he says simply, his voice carrying more meaning than the single word could hold.

"You don’t make this easy, you know," he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles along the front of your thigh.

"Don’t make what easy?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly, though you already know the answer.

"Not wanting to kiss you," he admits, his tone both teasing and earnest. His words send a jolt through you, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything: the warmth of his hand, the faint scent of cologne clinging to him, the way his breath hitches slightly as he waits for your response.

"You don’t have to not want to," you say, barely recognising your own voice. It’s an invitation, one he doesn’t hesitate to accept.

Nico leans in slowly, his free hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his touch featherlight as if he’s afraid to break the moment. His big brown eyes search yours one last time, giving you the chance to pull away.

 But you don’t.

 Instead, you lean in too, meeting him halfway.

When his lips finally press against yours, it’s soft, tentative at first, as though he’s savouring the moment. But as you respond, your hands finding their way to his chest, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer towards you, his kiss deepens, growing more confident, more certain. There’s a warmth in it, a mix of passion and tenderness that leaves you dizzy, the world around you fading until it’s just the two of you.

When you break apart, your chests are heaving the two of your looking at each other for a moment, Nico’s hands finding purchase on the back of your thighs, lifting them to manoeuvre you more comfortably on the couch, your back leaning against the arm rest, your legs bent at the knees, falling open slightly to make room for Nico’s broad build. 

Nico takes the invitation, slipping into the gap between your legs before lowering his mouth back to yours, your hands lifting to cup his jaw as his hand sit firmly against the back of your thighs, lifting them to circle around his waist, as his mouth leaves yours, his lips finding the tender curve of your jaw, just below the ear, his kisses firmer on the underside of your jaw. 

“Nico?” You speak in a whisper, Nico humming his response against your skin, his lips never stopping their movements.  “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” You add, your hands dropping to his shoulders, digging into his corded muscles as he sucks a particularly sensitive spot. 

“You want me to stop?” He asks, pulling his face away from your neck to look down at you, his brows furrowed in concern, his eyes trying to read yours. 

“No, I just…” You start, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you fumble for what to say. 

“You’re overthinking it.” Nico guesses, his head nodding quickly as he begins to understand the situation. “Come.” He says, pulling himself off the lounger, your brain having to fight your body to let him go. He offers you hand to help you stand, watching as your adjust your shorts and run your fingers through your hair. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, as Nico keeps his hand in yours slowly guiding you towards the stairs. 

“To my room.” He explains, sending you a reassuring smile as he adds, “Do all the thinking you want, but if you step through the door with me then you need to turn your brain off.” He walks slowly up the stairs, his fingers still locked with yours as you trail behind him, your mind racing at a million miles an hours as the two of your silently make you way to his bedroom, stopping just outside the closed door. 

Nico pauses, his eyes locked with yours as he watches you for a moment. He always thought you were so hard to read - keeping yourself closed off from most of the world, but right now, in this moment Nico can see everything. 

“Let me take care of you, Schatz.” He whispers, the term on endearment slipping off his tongue with no concern in the world. The term something you had heard his older brother call your sister countless times. The playful ease was gone from Nico’s face, his expression only holding a soft patience, his eyes refusing to break contact with yours. 

“Okay.” You nod softly, eye contact never breaking as Nico turns the door handle the door swinging open, the large man taking a few steps inside before pausing to wait. 

You pause at the threshold, your fingers still curled around Nico’s, your heart thundering in your chest. The room beyond feels impossibly intimate, softly lit by a single lamp on the nightstand. The air carries the faint scent of his cologne, mingled with the warmth of the day that still lingers in the walls.

Nico doesn’t rush you. He stands just inside, his gaze steady, his patience unwavering. His thumb brushes lightly against the back of your hand, a gentle anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

"You don’t have to," he murmurs, his voice low and careful. "But if you do… I promise I’ll take care of you. No pressure. No expectations."

There’s something disarming in his honesty, in the way he’s offering you the choice without pushing for a particular outcome. It makes your chest ache, that guarded part of you cracking just a little more.

You take a step forward, your breath hitching as you cross the threshold. The door clicks softly shut behind you, the sound somehow final and freeing all at once. Nico lets go of your hand only to reach up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch lingers, his palm warm against your cheek.

"You’re sure?" he asks, his gaze searching yours one last time.

Instead of answering, you close the distance between you, rising on your toes to kiss him. It’s slower this time, deliberate, your hands settling on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. Nico exhales softly against your lips, his arms circling your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

When the kiss breaks, you’re breathless, your forehead resting against his as you try to steady yourself. His hands trail down your back, stopping at the curve of your hips.

“Follow my lead,” he murmurs, guiding you toward the bed. He sits first, his legs spreading slightly as he pulls you between them. His hands find your waist again, holding you steady as he looks up at you, his expression open and full of unspoken promises.

You settle into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs, your hands tentatively tracing the line of his jaw. His stubble is rough beneath your fingertips, a grounding contrast to the tenderness in his eyes.

Nico tilts his head, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm before placing it over his heart. "Whatever you need, however far you want to go—just tell me."

The weight of his sincerity leaves you speechless for a moment. You nod, unable to do much else, and Nico smiles, that same soft, patient curve of his lips that always seems to put you at ease. "Good," he says, his voice a soothing rumble. "Now, let’s take this one moment at a time." And as his lips find yours again, slow and steady, you let yourself sink into the moment, the rest of the world falling away.

All of Nico’s movements are slow and purposeful, his large hands smoothing down from your hips and under the hem of your shorts, grabbing fistfuls of your ass, a grin growing on his face as your grind forwards against his lap. Nico rolls the two of you your back landing against the mattress with a bounce as he rolls on top of you, his hands teasing the edges of your panties before he pulls them away. 

“I think your ass is the best thing I’ve ever touched in my life.” Nico mumbles, his pupils blown as he sits back on his knees, his hands smoothing up the front of your thighs, watching as you gasp a little and his hands dip underneath your shirt, tracing the underwire of your bra. “But all I can think about is getting a taste of you.” His voice is gravely, a devilish grin on his face as his hands make their way back down to the waist band of your pants. 

“Wait.” You cut in, your hands gripping his wrists as his hands pause their movements on your shorts, his eyes shooting up to yours in concern, a raised brow as he waits for you to explain. “I’ve just never…” You start hesitating as you realise how stupid you’re about to sound. 

Nico reels back a little in surprise, his brows pinching in a frown as he thinks for a moment before spitting out, “But you’ve had a boyfriend, no?” He seems to reconsider his words for a moment before adding, “Mia told me you’ve dated before.” 

“I’ve had a boyfriend.” You explain, “But he never saw the importance of…that.” You try to get out the words but they seem stuck in your throat, your head nodding down to where Nico has his hands as if that will explain everything. 

“Well then he sounds like a bad boyfriend.” Nico cuts in, his smile back on his face as he slowly inches your shorts down, both of you silent as he slips them down and off your legs, throwing them to the side. “This.” He says giving you a pointed look, “Is the bare minimum.” Nico slowly shuffles back on the mattress until he has no choice but to lift himself up and onto the floor, perching on his knees as he reaches for your thighs again. 

His grip is firm on your legs, his hands splayed against the plush flesh as he shoots you a quick smirk before tugging your roughly down the bed, until your throbbing cunt is level with his face. “I want to hear every pretty sound that I can pull out of you.” Nico warns, his fingers looping over the sides of your panties before pulling them off as well. 

“I want you to do whatever feels right…” He looks up at your in anticipation, as you lift yourself onto your elbows, watching as he places soft kisses against the inside of your thighs, “Mainly I want you to feel good, so use your words.” He gives you one more look, your head nodding at his instructions as he leans forwards. 

The first swipe of his hot tongue has your arms collapsing out from under you, your back hitting the mattress roughly as you feel Nico smile against you, going in for more. Nico’s tongue works wonders with long slow swipes against you, his arms looping around your thighs to hold them steady, his grin never leaving his face as you let out a soft moan, your hands leaving the mattress to tangle in his long locks. 

It’s when his mouth closes over you, sucking that your back arches off the bed. “Holy shit.” You whine, your fingers tugging lightly on Nico’s hair, a rough grunt leaving him as his efforts double. You can feel his muscles straining as your hips buck against his face, his arms still holding you in place as his fingers tickle soft circles against your skin. 

“Nico, please.” You cry, yours hips bucking again as you feel your pleasure climb. How you’d never experience something like this before was insane to you. 

“Nico what?” He asks, leaving your wet pussy for a moment while he waits for you to respond, his stubble scraping up the inside of your thighs as he catches his breath, your hand still tangled in his hair. 

“Fingers.” You pant, “Please use your fingers.” You beg, Nico kissing your thigh once more before diving back in, one of his hands leaving it’s spot against your thigh, slowly dipping to your entrance, gathering a mixture of spit and arousal before plunging inside you, your hands releasing Nico’s hair in favour of gripping the bed sheets. 

“Fuck, Nico.” You curse, letting out a harsh pant before adding. “Another one.” Nico happily obliges, his second finger joining the party as his rubs them against the soft spots inside of you. Nico lifts his face away from you, his fingers doing all the works as he takes you in. 

You hands tangled in the sheets, grounding you for dear life as his fingers pump in and out of you. Soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lower lip, your eyes squeezed shut as tight as they can go, your cunt squeezing his fingers desperately trying to keep them inside. 

“I’m so close.” You hiss, the feeling borderline painful as you try to hold on. 

“I know, Shatz.” He whispers, his hot breath caressing over your wetness, “Just relax into it.” He whispers before his mouth descends on you again, your orgasm ripped from you, as your legs shiver besides his head, trying their hardest to squeeze shut around his head. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You swear, as Nico pulls his fingers from you, his tongue not finished as you try to wiggle your pelvis away from his face. 

“No.” Nico growls, his hands moving faster then you can, gripping your thighs and pulling you straight back to him, his tongue lapping up every drop until he’s certain he didn’t miss anything. Nico’s grip on you loosens as he feels your body relax, almost melting into the mattress. “Good girl.” He coos as he dips his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean before climbing back onto the mattress, his body hovering over yours. 

“Was it too much?” He asks softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your lips, your eyes finally popping open, the colour in your eyes almost completely disappearing behind your dilated pupils. Nico’s breath catches, your eyes shining like the night when you first saw the stars. 

Nico knew then that he was a goner. 

“I want more.” Your voice is quiet, almost ashamed of the request but you can feel the flutter in your chest as Nico nods with determination, pushing himself off the bed once more as he starts to strip himself of his clothes. 

“Shirt off.” He says quickly to you, your mouth falling open at his authoritative tone, “I want to see all of you.” He adds as he notices your hesitation, your throat bobbing as you lift yourself into a sitting position to pull of your shirt, throwing it to join the rest of the pile on the floor, your hands reaching behind you to release the clasp on your bra. You cross an arm over your chest as you drop the bra to the floor, your hand only dropping once you see the scolding in Nico’s eyes. 

“Fuck me.” It’s Nico’s turn to curse as he takes you in. “Stay right there, I need to commit this to memory.” He groans as his eyes skim over every inch of your body, your skin flushing as you watch him take you in. 

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers to himself, palming himself through his boxers to release some of the tension. “I’ve never been with anyone like you.” He admits, your eyes rolling as he finally strips himself of his underwear, his rock hard cock springing free, he leans forwards sliding open a bedside table drawer, pulling out a foil package. 

“Yeah, you’ve only ever been with perfect model types.” You laugh, watching as Nico rips open the package, slowly rolling the condom onto his dick before climbing onto the mattress, sitting with his back against the headboard. “Typical NHL player.” You joke, your laugh faltering as you notice Nico’s continued expression of awe. 

“You are perfection.” He cuts through your silence, his hand reaching out for you to join him. “You are like a gift from Aphrodite.” He adds, your heart thumping heavier at his praise.  

Nico watches you climb on top of him, your thighs straddling his, your hands bracing against his shoulders. Nico tilts his head back against the headboard wanting to be able to look directly into your eyes as often as he can. 

He looks at you like you’ve hung to moon, because in his opinion — you have. 

Nico watches - like he always does - as you softly grab hold of his cock, pumping it a few time, a soft hiss of air escaping him as you line him up with your cunt. Nico’s patient as you slide down him, pausing to adjust every few moments until your sitting comfortably in his lap - your pussy fuller then it’s ever been. 

Everything is in your control. 

Everything revolves around you. 

Nico’s head falls into the crook of your neck, soft curses leaving him as his arms wrap around you tightly, pulling your body against his, your hips slowly rolling forwards and back, forwards and back.

“You’re a goddess.” He whispers against your skin, his arms holding you steady as your movements speed up, a soft creak of the bed filling the room. 

“I would give you anything and everything.” He continues, the words almost falling out of him like a prayer, as he presses featherlight kisses against your bare skin, your breasts pressed firmly against his chest. You let out a whine as he bucks his hips to meet your movements. 

He lifts one thumb to his mouth, briefly dipping it inside before dropping it your where your hips meet, his thumb slowly putting pressure on your throbbing clit - rubbing in soft circles. He can’t help but smile as your hips stutter and your pussy clenches around his cock, the signs of your incoming orgasm relieving him as the feeling builds in the pit of his stomach. 

The two of you finish one after the other, Nico coming first with a curse his hands gripping your hips to keep them moving as he feels your orgasm wash over you, your body almost collapsing against him as you let him continue to guide your hips, riding both of you through the orgasms. 

Nico finally lets your hips go, your movements stopping as you both take in deep breaths of air - the room silent other than your breathing.

“I think you’ve ruined me.” Nico whispers against your skin, placing one more kiss to your shoulder before pulling his head away from you, his hands raising to push your hair out of your face as he helps you sit back up, your eyes dazed as you look down at him. 

“Ditto.” Is all you manage out, a soft chuckle leaving you as you try to pull yourself away from Nico, his dick sliding out of you at an excruciating place. “Do you have a shower in here by any chance?” You question as you finally make it off the bed, the sticky, sweaty feeling finally hitting you. 

Nico nods quickly, shuffling off the bed to walk around you, grabbing a towel from his closet and showing you into the bathroom, your arms covering your chest as he turns the shower to a mildly scalding temperature for you. “I’ll wait outside.” He says quickly, making his way to the door before hesitating. 

He turns back around, stepping forwards to pull you in for one more breath stealing kiss, his smile lighting up his face as he mumbles a quick “sorry,” before leaving you alone in the bathroom, your legs shaking from everything that had happened. 

The two of you ended up tangled together in Nico’s bed - the man having the decency to change his sheets before almost begging you to join him - his arms opened wide and inviting as you step out of the bathroom - his shirt hanging over the foot of the bed in offering of some modesty. 

“I really really like you.” Nico whispers against your hair as he wraps his arms around your middle, pulling your back tight against his chest, his breathing lulling you both to sleep, your bodies both depleted. 

It isn’t lost on Nico that you don’t respond, but he can feel the way your fingers squeeze his and he knows, you feel the same too. 

The early rising of the sun guides you as you slowly slip out of Nico’s arms, tugging his shirt down to cover as much of you as possible as you bend to pick up your clothes off the floor. You’re almost at the door when you hear Nico sit up in the bed, his hand pushing his hair off his forehead as he squints at you. 

“Where are you going?” He questions, a small pout growing on his face, “Why are you leaving?” He adds, his expression so genuinely distraught you falter, rushing towards the bed to press a soft kiss against his mouth. 

“Back to my room - Luca and Mia will be home soon.” You respond, pressing a second kiss to his mouth before fulfilling your original plan of escaping back to the bright sun lighting up your bedroom. 

+

+

By midweek, something had shifted. Nico couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the ease that had settled between you both after that night now seemed... off. He’d catch you pulling away when he leaned in too close, or your smile would falter just a second too soon when he said something meant to make you laugh.

It wasn’t dramatic, not really. Nothing explicit had been said or done, but Nico could feel it like a weight on his chest. You still smiled at him, still reached out for him when you thought no one was looking, but there was a distance now—something unspoken and sharp.

Wednesday evening found Nico sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. His fingers itched to call you, text you, something, but he didn’t want to come across as needy. He ruffled his hair with both hands, frustrated with himself for feeling so thrown off.

“What did I do wrong?” he muttered under his breath.

The question had been swirling in his head all day. Everything had seemed so perfect that morning—your soft kisses, the way you lingered just long enough to make it feel like you didn’t really want to leave. But now, it was like the world had tilted slightly, throwing everything off balance.

By Thursday, Nico couldn’t take it anymore. He cornered you in the hallway, gently grabbing your wrist as you tried to brush past him.

“Can we talk?” he said softly, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign of what was going on. You hesitated, your lips parting like you might brush him off, but something in his expression stopped you. His hand on your wrist wasn’t demanding; it was desperate.

“Okay,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He led you outside, the cool evening air biting at your skin as you stepped onto the patio. Nico let go of your wrist but didn’t move far, his hands now shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did I do something?” he asked, his voice barely steady. “I just... it feels like something’s changed, and I don’t know what. If I messed up, I need you to tell me, Bee. I can’t—” He broke off, looking down as his jaw tightened.

You stared at him, your heart sinking at the vulnerability in his voice. He wasn’t just confused; he was hurt.

“It’s not you,” you said quickly, stepping closer, though your arms stayed wrapped around yourself. “Nico, it’s not you. I just... I’m scared, okay? About what this is, about how fast everything’s moving. It’s not that I don’t care—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip. “I do care. That’s the problem.”

Nico’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Bee. I just need to know where we stand. You can tell me anything.”

Your throat tightened at his words, the sincerity in his gaze almost overwhelming. You reached out hesitantly, your fingers brushing his.

“I’m trying,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I just... I need time to figure this out. Can you give me that?”He nodded quickly, his relief evident even as his expression remained serious. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I’ll wait. Just—just don’t shut me out, okay? I can’t handle that.”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I won’t,” you promised.

Saturday morning hit everyone like a train - your sister had decided to stay in Switzerland for a few more weeks, wanting to spend some time making rough plans with her new fiancé, which left you catching the almost twenty four hour flight home, alone. 

“You’ve got everything?” Your sister asks as you put your suitcase in the back of the car — Nico standing by the drivers door with the keys in his hand. 

“Yep, thank you guys for everything - I think this was the best holiday I’ve ever had.” You say softly, leaning forwards to pull your older sister into a tight hug before turning towards Luca and pulling him in for one too. 

“We’re family now, you can come back anytime.” Luca says cheerfully, patting your head softly before turning to wrap his arms around his now sobbing fiancé. “No need to cry, she’ll be okay.” He coos at your sister, his words only making her sob harder. You chuckle at your sisters dramatics, waving a final goodbye to Luca before slipping into the passenger seat of the car, Nico sliding in besides you. 

The drive to the airport is quiet, the morning sun casting a golden glow over the mountains. Nico keeps his hands on the wheel, his jaw tight as though he’s holding back something he doesn’t want to say. You glance over at him, studying the curve of his brow and the tension in his lips.

You want to memorise as much of him as you can, before you go. 

Finally, as the airport looms into view, he pulls the car into an empty space and cuts the engine. The silence stretches between you, heavy and loaded. Then he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He takes a deep breath before adding “Please stay.” The words hang in the air, and your heart tightens painfully in your chest. You want to say yes, to give into the magnetic pull between you and stay in this dreamlike moment forever. 

But reality is relentless.

“We have our lives to return to, Nico,” you say softly, looking down at your hands. “We can’t just stay here trapped in time, forever.”

He turns to face you, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that makes your resolve waver. “Will we see each other again?” he asks, his voice trembling just enough to reveal the weight of the question.

You pause, the enormity of your feelings crashing over you like a wave. “Someday,” you say, meeting his gaze and offering a faint smile.

“Someday,” he repeats, the word a lifeline he’s choosing to cling to. Then, as if convincing himself, he nods. “I can live with someday.”

You reach over, placing a hand over his. For a moment, the world feels frozen, just the two of you in this car, this fleeting moment that feels both heartbreaking and hopeful. Then, with a deep breath, you pull away, opening the door and stepping out.

As you grab your suitcase from the trunk, Nico stays by the car, watching you with an expression you know will haunt you for a long time. You wave one last time before heading into the airport, your heart heavy but filled with a quiet determination.

Someday.

You can live with someday too.

[theemporium]

[13.2k] the chalet was your home away from home in the festive season. but this year it may become the place you fall in love with the last person you expected. ft my very limited knowledge on how skiing works. (very lazy smut included)

.

Your family had always gone to The Chalet with the Montgomery’s for as long as you could remember. 

One spontaneous ski trip decades ago led your parents to start a tradition that would last through the generations. Every year, both families would fly out to the mountains of France to enjoy the festive season in the homely ski resort called The Chalet. Owned and ran by an elderly couple, it was the kind of place you would see in hallmark movies, or maybe even in a snowglobe. It was a place beyond your greatest winter wonderland dreams and imagination. The Chalet didn’t feel like a real place, and that was why the getaway every Christmas made the holiday so magical. 

It was your home away from home, a safe haven. It was the one place in the world where you could disappear from reality and embrace the isolation from society. 

At least, that was what the three weeks in the ski resort usually felt like. 

And after a year of moving away from home, starting a new job at the bottom of the food chain and dealing with more social circle drama than you ever intended to deal with, you craved nothing more than the simplicity and enjoyment The Chalet had to offer. You needed the break away from your life, a break away from the life you weren’t totally sure you had under control. 

You just wanted your home away from home, and instead when the families arrived at the resort, you were met with crowds of strangers swarming the place like a colony of buzzing, irritating bees. 

“What the hell?” You muttered once you had stepped out of the car, looking at the throng of people lingering outside the main entrance to the resort. 

“Apparently the place is booked out,” your mother noted from somewhere behind you as they began to unpack the bags from the boot of the car. “Madame Blanchet reserved our usual rooms when she started getting more and more bookings.” 

“Since when was this place overbooked?” You commented, a little blunter than intended. But it was hard to mask your surprise. A part of The Chalet’s charm was that it was a small, unknown ski resort hidden amongst the many that were established in the French Mountains. For as long as you could remember—hell, even before that—there hadn’t been more than ten or so families staying at the resort over the Christmas period. 

“Maybe Madame Blanchet finally learnt how to make a website,” a voice remarked from beside you, sounding quite amused by the mass of people, which shouldn’t have really surprised you. 

And just like you expected, you turned your head to find Harper Montgomery grinning widely at the crazy crowd like she was expecting it. She stood beside you with her hands on her hips, something about the bright ski suit looking so out of place, not that she acted as much. Every year, you swore The Chalet wasn’t ready for her and every year you were proven correct. 

“Considering the woman still has a dial phone, I am going to doubt the sudden online advertisement,” you snorted, shaking your head.

“Maybe this will be the Christmas we make new friends,” Harper noted, her head tilted to the side and her dark eyes scanning the crowd. “I am pretty sick of Mrs Hartford beating me at scrabble.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “Maybe you should stop challenging her then.”

Harper’s eyes narrowed. “Never.” 

“I still don’t get why so many people are waiting outside,” you grumbled as your eyes fell back to the crowd, noticing the way they were buzzing with some sort of excitement. “I don’t even think the lodge has enough rooms for this many people.” 

Harper hummed. “Maybe—”

“OH MY GOD!” 

Your eyes widened in alarm as you turned your head, seeing Evan standing a few feet away from you and Harper. The older Montgomery was gripping his phone, eyes full of adoration and awe as he grinned at his screen like a madman. He let out a high-pitched squeak, catching the attention of both families as they looked at him with varying looks of concern.

The blond finally lifted his head, oblivious to the worried looks as his grin seemingly widened. He thrusted a phone towards you and Harper, almost buzzing in his spot. “He’s here!”

Your brows furrowed together. “What?”

“He’s here!” Evan repeated, just as enthusiastic as the first time. “He is in our ski lodge! He’s here!” 

You still looked equally confused. “Who?” 

“His little man-crush,” Harper noted as she glanced down at his screen. 

“Charles Leclerc!” Evan sighed, almost dreamily as he hugged his phone to his chest. “We are spending Christmas with Charles Leclerc!” 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, pushing past the boy to grab your suitcase so you could finally go check in. “For fuck’s sake, not your little driving guy.” 

“Hey,” Evan frowned. “He’s more than that.” 

“I have to listen to you talk about him for nine months of the year,” you remarked, though even that felt like an understatement. “Christmas is meant to be my free time from your little obsession. We made a deal.”

Evan blanched. “That was before I knew he was here!” 

“And now he’s ruining Christmas,” you grumbled bitterly, letting out a wince when you felt a pinch to your side.

“Don’t be such a grinch,” Harper teased. “Let him be a fanboy and spend his days on the slopes hunting the guy down. Don’t let it ruin your holiday.”

You snorted. “That will be hard when he is talking our ears off about Charles’ pretty green eyes or the way his hair looks after a race.”

“It’s fluffy!” Evan defended. “It’s unreal after a two hour race in a helmet!” 

“Whatever,” you muttered as you patted the boy on the chest as you moved past him. “You have him all to yourself, you won’t see me complaining about it.” 

Evan puffed his chest out. “You just can’t appreciate greatness.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” you waved him off. “I’m here to ski and relax. As long as this Charles guy keeps you and his little fanbase far away from me, I don’t care what he does.” There was a pause and Harper gave you a questioning look when she saw the glint in your eyes. “Even if he is overrated.”

Evan’s jaw dropped. “You did not just—”

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” You called out behind you as you grabbed Harper’s hand, dragging her towards the main entrance with you and letting your laughs echo through the reception as the boy swore up and down behind you.

…

You could have said that your resentment towards the Ferrari driver was purely based on how much Evan spoke about him during the racing season, but that would be a lie. 

It had started off that way when the boy finally made it into Formula One. Evan had been a motorsport fanatic from a young age, always eager to ramble away to you and Harper on various championships and seasons neither of you particularly cared about. As you got older, you learned to become more accepting and tolerant of the fact your Sundays would always be hijacked by whatever grand prix was occurring that weekend. 

However, when a young hot shot joined the sport that Evan had been following through the lower leagues, you didn’t realise just how quickly that tolerance would disappear until he was yapping your ear off after every single race. 

And truthfully? You didn’t get it. You didn’t get the sport in general, you didn’t understand what made a driver good or bad, and you didn’t understand the world’s obsession with Charles Leclerc as the years passed. To you, he just seemed like a pretty boy who enjoyed the spotlight of being the face of the sport. To you, he seemed like nothing more than a show pony. 

And no amount of debates and rants from Evan would change that. 

You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to say you hate Charles Leclerc, but you would say you were coming pretty damn close since you arrived at The Chalet.

The Chalet was bustling from the moment you opened your eyes to the moment you fell asleep. Wherever you went, it felt like you were pushing through a crowd to get from point A to point B. And the amount of times you had fans gripping your arm as you walked past, asking you if you had seen the Monegasque driver was starting to make you want to rip your own hair out. 

Yet, despite the buzz around the driver being in the lodge and the amount of fans circling the place through various hours of the day, you had yet to see the boy himself and that was something you were perfectly content with.

You had managed two blissful days before you crossed paths with Charles Leclerc. 

You had been taking too long to get ready so you assured Harper and Evan you would meet them at the slopes, insisting there was no need for them to wait for you. Both Montgomery’s—stubborn as ever—scoffed and told you they would be waiting for you in the lobby instead. 

You had been in a rushed state when you made your way towards the equipment valet, eager to just quickly hand your locker number over and collect your equipment. However, your path seemed to be blocked by a man standing in front of you, nose buried in his phone as he muttered in a language you didn’t quite understand. 

“Excuse me, do you mind if I just—” 

“Fucking hell,” the man swore, causing you to pause and frown at his back. 

You were taken aback, not expecting that response or the scoff that left his lips afterwards. And when he turned around, you were even more shocked when you realised you knew exactly who the rude man was—none other than Charles Leclerc. 

“Look, I appreciate that you are a devoted fan and I am grateful for the support, but I really don’t have time for pictures right now,” Charles continued and, to his credit, did look a little empathetic. Though, that didn’t take away from the underlying hostility in his words. “I am just here to enjoy my break. Please let me do so in peace.” 

You blinked, absolutely flabbergasted by his assumption. “Huh?”

The smile he gave you was almost condescending. “As a fan, I am sure you’d understand that I’d want a few days just free from the media and—”

And it seemed like only then did your brain catch up with the situation. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, I am not a fan,” you stated as bluntly as you could, watching the boy’s face morph into something quite like confusion. As though he genuinely couldn’t compute the fact somebody wasn’t a fan of him. 

“What?”

“I was just trying to get my skis and you were standing in my way like a douche,” you said simply, watching as his brows furrowed closer together. “Which I would have felt bad for calling you before I realised who you were.”

“Who I was,” Charles repeated, still baffled as you pushed past him to do just as you said. 

“Hot shot who thinks everybody who breathes near him cares about who he is,” you supplied, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you now stood before him with your skis in hand. “Have a great day, Charles Leclerc.”

And the boy didn’t get a chance to say anything as you walked away, your mood positively ruined by the time you reached Evan and Harper in the lobby. They took one look at your sour mood and raised their brows in question, but you simply grumbled and waved them off, in no mood to repeat your interaction to Charles’ biggest sympathiser. 

Fortunately for the Montgomery siblings, your mood eased up by lunchtime and you were (mostly) over the whole interaction. 

…

Or at least, you were over the interaction until dinner came around. 

Dinner at The Chalet was like one massive family meal. With a large hall dedicated as the dining area, the Blanchet’s had set it up quite like a buffet system. There were tables of food bordering the room with tables dotted through the middle. Everyone sat on the round tables, in their little families and looking like a picture perfect scene for the final meal of the day. 

So of course your final meal of the day had to be ruined by an arrogant Monegasque who grinned at you like you two were old friends. 

“Ah, you! I’ve been looking for you.”

Truthfully, you wouldn’t have even realised he was talking to you if it weren’t for the fact the boy had stopped right beside you, practically looming over your shoulder as you tried to help yourself to some macaroni cheese.

You raised your brows, giving the boy a once-over before returning your attention to your plate. 

“Uh, hello,” Charles tried again, his brows furrowing together a little at the cold shoulder you gave him.

“Hi,” you stated simply, not wanting to spend any more moments with the Monegasque than you had to. 

“I wanted to apologise for earlier,” Charles continued, seeing your response as an open invite to a conversation. 

“Do you now?”  

“Yeah,” Charles nodded, a smile making its way onto his face as your sarcastic tone went completely over his head. “Listen, I really didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—this is my holiday and I had no intention of my location being leaked. I just wanted a break from everything, you know? And I guess the frustrations of being bombarded for the last few days just got to me.” 

And truthfully speaking, a part of you sympathised with the boy. Though his fame reached levels you would never understand, The Chalet was your haven away from everything. It was a place where reality never seemed to touch, a place to escape. You could understand better than anyone what it was like to crave that feeling in your life. 

But just as you opened your mouth to say as much, Charles seemed to remind you exactly why you disliked him in the first place.

“And I just wanted to clear things up with you before the media found out and—” 

“So, you’re only apologising because you don’t want me running to journalists and ruining your image?” You interrupted, catching the boy off-guard as he gaped at you for a few seconds.

“Well, yes, it wouldn’t look good if I was harassing fans,” Charles said.

“But I’m not a fan,” you corrected him, gripping your plate in your hands. “And I certainly don’t care about shattering someone’s image for fifteen seconds of fame, no matter how much of a douche they are.”

Charles frowned. “I—” 

“You can take your apology and shove it up your ass, Charles,” you said, that sickly sweet smile on your face once again as you turned around to find whichever table your family were sitting at. But a hand reached out to softly grip your elbow and you turned to find Charles looking at you with a helpless expression. 

“I am sorry,” Charles said to you, something in his voice that you didn’t really understand. “But I also care about my image. Surely you can understand that.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you retorted as you tried to tug yourself free from his hold. 

Charles opened his mouth to reply, but a louder voice caught the attention of both of you. 

“STORMY! OVER HERE!” 

You felt your face heat up as you glanced over your shoulder, finding Evan sat amongst your family and his own as he waved you down. He had a shit-eating grin on his face (most likely from the fact he used the one nickname that he knew pissed you off more than anything else in front of everyone) and looked like he was about to do more when his gaze shifted to the man beside you. His jaw dropped, a comical expression on his face as he looked between you and Charles Leclerc.

“Stormy?” Charles repeated, looking over at you. 

You ignored his questioning gaze, instead narrowing your eyes at the hand still gripping your elbow. “Can you let me go now or is there more to your shitty apology?”

Charles opened his mouth once again, yet another person interrupted him before he got a chance.

“Charles? What’s taking you so long?”

Your eyes wandered to the girl who saddled up beside him, her expression light until she turned to look at you. Her gaze was calculated, her blue eyes seeming to size you up and something about the all white attire made you wonder if she was really playing into the Ice Queen vibes. 

“Another fan?” She sighed, as though your presence was the biggest inconvenience to her. “Honey, he can take pictures with you after dinner—”

“That’s fine, we’re done here,” you quickly corrected, ignoring the patronising tone in her voice or the way that Charles still looked like he had more to say. “I won’t be bothering either of you anytime soon.” 

You turned on your heels before either one of them had a chance to drag out the interaction any longer than it needed it to be. You weaved through the tables before making your way towards the table your family had chosen, settling yourself in the free seat beside Evan.

“That was Charles Leclerc!” 

You hummed, grabbing your fork as you began to dig in. “Unfortunately so.” 

“Dude, what the hell!” Evan hissed, pinching your side until you let out a small squeak and turned to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

You frowned. “I don’t.”

“You were talking to him for ages!” Evan countered. 

“He was just being a dick,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Plus, that was probably the last time I’ll ever talk to him.” 

Harper snorted. “And you didn’t even get him an autograph.”

“Not that I would ask,” you prefaced before shaking your head. “But I doubt he would have given me one anyways. We…got off on the wrong foot.” 

“It’s Charles Leclerc,” Evan scoffed. “There is no wrong foot.” 

“Keep it in your pants, dickhead,” you teased, lightly pinching his side back in retaliation. “Even if I did get you an autograph, I would have shredded it after the Stormy stunt you just pulled.”

“But that’s your name,” Evan grinned.

“No, it’s what you called me for seven years because you couldn’t remember my name,” you retorted. 

“No, he remembered,” Harper piped in, a grin on her face that scarily matched her brother’s. “But with a temper like yours, Stormy just fits so much better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. You both suck and so does Charles Leclerc.” 

“At least wait until dessert before you start insulting Evan’s boyfriend in front of him.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

…

You had expected that was the last time your path would ever cross with Charles Leclerc and, for the most part, it was. 

A few days passed and other than some awkward shared glances in the dining hall, you hadn’t found yourself caught in a conversation with the Ferrari driver after his attempted apology and you were intending to keep it that way until the end of your trip. You were happy to continue on with your holiday, even if you swore you could feel a pair of eyes watching you sometimes. 

However, it seemed like the universe was on a mission to get your hopes up before crumbling them back down again—and this time, it was in the form of another involuntary meeting with the Monegasque. 

You hadn’t even noticed the boy standing a few feet away from you with a group of his friends. You were stood next to Harper, listening to her ramble away as you waited in line for the ski lift to take you to the top of the mountain. It was fairly early, most of the resort residents still enjoying their breakfast inside which meant the queue wasn’t very long. You had been eager to get out on the snow early after being one of the last in the passing days. 

However, whilst you failed to notice the driver, it seemed like Harper had. 

She watched the boy continuously glance over at you, like he was eager to catch your eye. She watched as he slowly shuffled closer, like he was trying to gain the confidence to jump into the conversation. She watched Charles Leclerc act like a hopeless fool, and it was somewhat endearing to witness.

And maybe—just maybe—she was in the mood for some drama that the vacation in the ski resort very rarely gave her. 

You were already settled in your spot when you felt someone shuffling in the seat next to you. You felt the comfort bar come down and you turned with a smile, ready to continue your conversation with your best friend when you realised your best friend was not the person sitting next to you. 

No, it was Charles Leclerc. 

Your head whirled around, finding Harper standing in the queue with a grin on her face. You shot her a look, one that spoke more than a thousand words on just how you felt about her betrayal. However, the girl just laughed and waved you off as the lift began moving and it was far too late to get off. 

Your attention shifted to the boy beside you again, noticing the sheepish expression on his face and you let out a sigh. 

It was fine. Totally fine. The ski lift took around ten minutes to get to the top of the mountain. That was hardly anything, practically a blink of an eye if you were being honest. It would be a quick ride up, you wouldn’t even have to talk to him and you could easily ignore him by the time you made your way back down the mountain. It was all going to be so, so fine.

“So, uh, how are you this morning?” 

And suddenly, even a second felt like ten years passing. 

You kept your head facing forward, hoping the boy would catch the hint that you weren’t interested in small talk and would also remain silent. Though, considering the fact he was fidgeting in his seat, you doubted the boy could keep quiet for longer than thirty seconds.

“The weather is great, right?”

Your brows furrowed together. The weather? Really?

“The pancakes were also really good at breakfast this morning. Did you have any?” He continued, only pausing for a moment when he realised you were making a point of not answering him. “Stormy?”

One simple word and that was enough for you to break your silence.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, a little harsher than you truly intended but the sentiment remained.

Charles blinked. “You don’t want me to call you your name?”

“It’s not my name,” you replied. 

He blinked again. “But in the dining hall—”

“It’s a nickname—one that Evan likes to wind me up with because he thinks I’m moody,” you explained before realising the boy didn’t really deserve an explanation. Not when you were adamant to keep this conversation short. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, I can see where he gets it from,” Charles said with a small snort. 

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

Seeming to realise what he said and just how it sounded out loud, it was almost comical to watch Charles’ lips part before he awkwardly gaped at his previous comment. “Not like that! I just meant—”

“Whatever,” you muttered as you turned to face forwards again, pleading for the lift to somehow reach the top of the mountain already.

“Look, I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I intended this to go,” Charles admitted, almost sounding a bit pained when he said it, as though he wasn’t used to admitting he was wrong. “I wanted to properly apologise. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you, and I definitely shouldn’t have brushed it off as anything except how you felt.” 

You paused, brows furrowing together as you turned to face him with a curious expression.

Charles blinked. “What?”

“I was just waiting to see if there was a ‘but’ coming,” you confessed.

“No buts,” he assured, pausing for a moment before his cheeks burned pink. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s it.”

You let out a sigh, wishing that some part of you was suspicious about his apology but you weren’t. He sounded genuine, and as much as you wanted to—and still partially did—believe he was a bit of a pompous prick, you couldn’t fault that his apology seemed sincere.

“I accept your apology,” you said, your voice a little strained before you continued. “And I’m also sorry for being a bit of a bitch.”

Charles’ lips parted. “Oh no, you weren’t—”

“I was a little,” you said, your lips twitching upwards as the boy gave you a nervous smile. “I can assure you I won’t be telling any gossip pages about what an asshole Charles Leclerc is.” 

He actually laughed in response, despite the fact that alone would probably make his PR team bury him six feet under before the next season started. “I appreciate that, Stormy.”

You glowered at the nickname, but it only seemed to make the Monegasque laugh harder. 

…

Despite the exchange of apologies on the ski lift, you expected that to be your last proper interaction with Charles. 

You were also quickly realising that every time—so far—you had assumed as much, you would find yourself face to face with the driver once again. And this time was no different, except it came much earlier than a few days. It happened later that very same day.

You had made your way into the dining hall, grabbing a plate and beginning to survey the large buffet when you felt the warmth of another person standing beside you. You felt a hand brush your arm and turned to find Charles smiling at you. 

“Bonjour, mon ami.” 

You blinked. “What?”

His smile widened. “It means—”

“No, I know what it means,” you quickly corrected, shaking your head a little. “I just…didn’t realise we were friends.”

Charles’ brows furrowed together. “Why wouldn’t we be? I thought we had made up on the ski lift.” 

“Yes but, other than that, we are strangers,” you said to him like it was obvious—and to you, it was. Beyond a few misunderstandings and awkward apologies, the man in front of you was as much a friend to you as any of the other guests in the lodge.

“Well, we can change that now!” He said, and that smile returned to his face. “Turn over a new book or whatever the saying is.” 

Much to your own surprise, you found yourself laughing a little at his response. “Charles, I—”

“STORMY, HURRY UP OR I AM DRINKING YOUR WINE!” 

Both your and Charles’ head snapped over to Evan who was holding a wine glass in each hand, a large smile plastered on his face and a twinkle in his eyes that promised mischief. His hair was still wet from the shower he took before dinner, meaning it was slick back and giving him an almost wannabe Bond villain look. 

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to look at the driver. Only you found Charles still looking in Evan’s direction, something contemplative and almost begrudging in his gaze. 

“You okay?”

Charles turned to face you, and it took a mere second for the glare to disappear and be replaced with his bright smile once again. “Yeah, of course. It seems like you’re wanted elsewhere though.”

“He’s a menace,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes but the fondness was clear in your voice. “I love him even if he’s a pain in the ass.”

Charles only let out a contemplative hum as a goodbye as you headed towards the table where your family and the Montgomery’s were sitting. And maybe if you looked over at him as much as he did with you over the course of the dinner, you would have seen Charles looking a little too bitter every time your eyes were on Evan instead of him.

…

A week had passed in the resort and the Christmas spirit was starting to truly spread as the festive holiday quickly approached. 

Your parents and the Montgomery parents had decided to pass on the slopes, instead choosing to visit infamous glacier caves that had been advertised and talked about by some locals in the lodge. You, Harper and Evan had declined the offer to join them, though the excitement of no parents being around—despite the fact all three of you were firmly in your twenties—seemed to spark a shift in energy in Evan that could only be described as childlike. 

“I have a proposition.” 

Harper already let out a groan, tilting her head back as she did. You couldn’t see her eyes beneath her goggles, but you imagined she was rolling them. “God, no.”

Evan frowned. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”

“Your ideas are shit,” Harper said to her brother. “And usually dangerous.”

“No, they aren’t,” Evan scoffed.

You shrugged. “You don’t have a great track record, if we are being honest.”

“Whatever,” Evan grumbled before grinning at the two of you. “First two to reach the bottom wins. Sabotaging each other’s run is allowed. Loser has to do the forfeit.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “What’s the forfeit?” 

“Loser has to streak in the snow,” he grinned.

“I am not streaking in the snow,” Harper scoffed.

“Then, you better hope you win,” the older Montgomery countered with a grin. 

And begrudgingly, you and Harper agreed to his childish idea.

It wasn’t the first time a silly competition between the three of you got out of hand, and you truly doubted it would be the last. With no rules set and no parents to even try to intervene, it didn’t take very long before the competition got dirty and the run down the slopes became more chaotic. 

You had been running behind Harper, secure in second place and watching her movements closely to look for any weakness that you could exploit. However, you had failed to realise that Evan—who had been running behind after he almost skied into a group of people—was quickly catching up on you. 

You didn't realise until it was too late.

You let out a noise of surprise when you found the boy right by your side, one that quickly became a series of curses when you realised what he was doing. You tried to move away when you noticed him turning into you, but you were too slow and it only put you in a worse position when his pole lodged itself between your skis. 

He was long gone by the time you tumbled into the snow, cackling loudly as he went. You let out a groan of frustration as you turned until you were lying on your back. You winced a little as you tried to awkwardly scramble up onto your feet in hopes of catching up with the Montgomery siblings, but the second a bit of pressure was placed on your ankle, you were crying out in pain and your ass hit the snow once again.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you sat in the snow, tears welling in your lash line at the shot of pain up your leg. 

“Cherie!” 

You lifted your head when you noticed someone skidding to a stop beside you. You blinked at them in a moment of confusion, but the second they removed their goggles and pulled down their mask, you found Charles—or at least, a very worried and concerned version of him—looking down at you. 

He took you in, noticing the glossy sheen to your eyes before he turned back to look over his shoulder, letting out a string of curse words that you were certain were not in English before his attention returned to you.

“Are you okay? What hurts? Is something broken? Should I call for them to send a helicopter—” 

“Charles,” you quickly interrupted the rambling boy. “I’m fine. I’ve probably just sprained my ankle.” 

“Yeah, because of him,” Charles grumbled, mostly under his breath like he had no real intention for you to hear the snide remark.

“It was a joke,” you waved him off, but that only seemed to upset the boy further.

“A joke?” He repeated, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re hurt. It’s hardly a funny joke.”

“Charles, calm down.”

The boy just scoffed, shaking his head before he lodged his poles into the snow, keeping them off the main trail before he turned to you and offered his hand. 

You looked at him expectantly. 

“Let me help you get down to the lodge,” he said in as calm a voice as he could manage. 

“Charles—” You began, but he wasn’t having it.

“No, cherie, I am not going to leave you here when you’re injured and alone,” he said, emphasising the last word in particular as he glanced around, almost like he had to remind you that Harper and Evan were most likely at the bottom of the slope by now. 

“Fine,” you said with a sigh, taking his gloved hand in yours as you allowed him to pull you up, keeping your weight on him with ease. “This doesn’t mean we are friends though, Charles.”

He only grinned at you, the first time he seemed a little more like himself since he stopped to check on you.

“Whatever you want to say, Stormy.”

…

As expected, you had sprained your ankle and were advised to take it easy for the next few days. 

And you were banned from hitting the slopes in fear of making the sprain worse. 

You wanted to be annoyed about the situation—and a small part of you was—but honestly, a few days in the lodge with some peace and quiet seemed like a dream. As much as you loved your family and the Montgomery’s, you needed a break from how loud and giddy and excited they were.

And as the days quickly approached Christmas, it felt like a nice relief to have some time to yourself before the festivities truly took over. 

You had waved them off after breakfast with a smile, teasing them not to miss you too much as they headed towards the slopes. Evan had offered to stay inside with you, even just for today, because of the guilt that he was the one to put you in the position. But you just rolled your eyes, assuring him you were more than happy to sit by the fireplace by the foyer and enjoy a day where you didn’t have to fall flat on your ass in the snow. 

You had been a few chapters into your book, curled up on the couch with your ankle elevated on a pillow with a blanket thrown over you when Charles and his friends made their way downstairs, prepped and ready with the intentions of heading out to the slopes. 

But the boy spotted you and found his feet moving in a different direction. 

“Stormy!”

You lifted your head, unable to even find it in yourself to be annoyed by his constant use of the nickname when he had a pretty smile on his face whenever he said it. He was bundled up in layers, probably on his way to the equipment kiosk before he headed for the lift. He looked comical next to the fire.

“My knight in shining armour,” you greeted, a teasing tilt in your voice but the boy missed it as he took in your appearance. “You look warm.”

“You’re staying in today?” 

You nodded. “Doc’s orders.”

“Alone?” 

You nodded once again. “I told the others they could—”

“I’ll stay with you!”

He said it so quickly that it took you a few seconds before you realised just what he had said. You blinked, your brows furrowing in confusion. “You’re at a ski resort and you don’t want to go skiing?”

“I’ve been skiing every day since I got here,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I can handle not skiing for a day.”

You flashed him a smile. “It’s fine, you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” he countered, the words passing his lips with ease.

You hated the way your chest tightened a little at his words. “Oh.”

Charles smiled at your response. 

“Charles, hurry up!” 

You missed the way his brows furrowed together at the voice when you turned to look at the woman standing a few feet away, looking impatient and slightly annoyed. It was the same woman from the other week, the one that looked a little too much like the cold weather personified. You had learnt over the passing days her name was Melanie, but that was about as far as your knowledge on the woman went, other than her clear attitude. 

Charles let out a sigh before he replied, a slightly more strained smile on his face. “Go on without me. I’m gonna stay in the lodge today.”

Melanie frowned. “Why?”

“Because I want to,” Charles stated simply, and the repeated words made your chest feel funny again. 

Melanie glanced over at you and then Charles, and then back to you again. Her eyes were narrowed and her glare felt icy, but before she could even think of saying anything, a friend from the group was calling out to her and she had no choice but to join them. 

Charles turned back to you, an easy smile on his lips once again. “So…what’s the plan?” 

You snorted. “To sit here because I’m practically bedbound, unless I want to hobble somewhere.” 

Charles pressed his lips together. “Well, sitting by the fire with no hot chocolate is sacrilege.” 

Your nose scrunched up. “But I don’t have cookies. Hot chocolate by itself isn’t fun without homemade Christmas cookies.”

“Then we will make them,” Charles said.

You rolled your eyes. “And where are we making them? In our rooms with a kettle, tap water and no other ingredients?”

“Please,” Charles said with a scoff, a glint in his eyes as he looked down at you with a proud glint in his eyes. “I am Charles Leclerc. I have my ways.”

You weren’t sure what strings he pulled, who he bribed or just what he blackmailed the lodge owners with, but you were filled with a sort of unease when Charles returned twenty minutes later. He had changed out of his heavy ski gear into a pair of jeans and a sweater that looked insanely cosy. And he had told you that he needed you to close your eyes, to trust him enough to carry you to the destination with a promise that all the drama would be worth it.

He looked so damn proud when he brought you to the lodge’s kitchen with bowls and whisks and ingredients sprawled across the counter—it made that funny feeling in your chest return. 

“How did you manage this?” You asked, an incredulous laugh leaving your lips when he sat you on the counter. 

“I’m Charles Leclerc, I can get anything I want,” he said, and once upon a time, you would have rolled your eyes and thought he was a pompous dick. You still thought he was a little cocky, but it was an endearing trait now. 

You raised your brows. “Do you, Charles Leclerc, know how to bake?”

“Nope,” he said honestly but he was still smiling. “But I am sure I can make something edible with you guiding me.”

“Smooth,” you snorted. “Don’t blame me if they taste like shit.”

As it would turn out, Charles had an overbearing need to be in control of everything. You guessed it came with the lifestyle, the fact his life is always in the palm of his own hands whenever he sat in a car that raced hundreds of miles an hour. However, it seemed like it also extended to the Monegasque ignoring your very clear and correct instructions to do something he insisted was the right way.

“In what fucking world do you need that much sugar?” You remarked, lips parted in shock as you watched the boy add more. 

“They are sugar cookies, cherie, it’s in the name,” Charles retorted.

“That doesn’t mean the batter should be seventy-five percent sugar!” You huffed as you reached over to try and grab the bag of sugar from him. “You are going to make us both diabetic with one of those damn cookies. Don’t you have a diet you are meant to be following?” 

Charles only grinned, a little mischievous. “Yeah but it’s Christmas.”

You shook your head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“And you’re bossy,” he countered. 

“And I’m right,” you insisted as you frowned at the batter, wondering if it would be easier to just toss it out and start again. “It’s not my fault you don’t have the ego to handle it.”

“Or your ego can’t handle the challenge,” Charles said, something shining in his eyes like his words had a hidden meaning you couldn’t quite understand. “Tell me you don’t like it.”

You tilted your head a little. “You think you’re the only man to talk back to me, Leclerc?”

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “I would like to think I’m the best.” 

You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes darkened, the way it seemed to surge some sort of competition inside him. You couldn’t help but want to play on his fragile male ego a little more.

“And if I said you weren’t?” You questioned, pressing your lips together in a poor attempt to hide your smirk. 

Charles breathed out of his nose, his jaw clenching a little before he replied. “Then I would say Evan is a lucky man to have you.”

And just like that, your smirk dropped. 

“What?” 

Charles frowned a little. “I would say Evan is a lucky man,” he repeated, the words sounding a little forced as they left his lips. “You two seem like…a great match even if he does leave you abandoned on a ski slope after—”

“Oh my god, no!” You blanched, your shoulders hunching up to your ears as you shook your head. “Ew, no! Absolutely not!”

Charles blinked. “Huh?”

“Me and Evan—” You swallowed hard, unable to even get the words out. “It’s not like that between us. I have known him forever, he’s like a brother to me.” 

“Oh,” Charles murmured, taking a few seconds before he grinned. “Oh!” 

“Yeah, oh,” you grumbled.

Charles couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “So, you aren’t—”

“Nope.”

“With Evan or anyone?”

“No one.”

“Good.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the giddiness written across his face. If someone told you it was Christmas morning, you would have believed them. “Subtle, Charles.”

“Subtle is my middle name.”

…

The next day, you met Charles by the foyer fireplace, but this time he was prepared with his own book. 

The day after, he was there again but both your books were quickly abandoned as you chatted away. 

The day after that, neither of you bothered to bring your books down. 

Despite your insistence that he should be out on the slopes enjoying his vacation and the downtime he had in between seasons, Charles was adamant that he was doing exactly what he deemed relaxing. And just like he said earlier, Charles Leclerc gets what he wants—and it seemed he wanted to spend his days huddled in the lodge with you. 

Everyone noticed the budding relationship between you and Charles, but nobody said a word. Well, your family and the Montgomery parents didn’t say a word. Harper and Evan on the other hand? They wouldn’t leave you alone.

Harper was cackling at the irony. She was throwing your words back in your face, teasing the way seemed to switch your opinion on the Monegasque driver in the span of a week and looked down right smitten for the boy. She teased you over the fact it took you almost two months before you went on a date with your ex-boyfriend, and here you were having daily fireplace dates with the boy you called an asshole less than a week ago. She was embracing her full right as your best friend to annoy the fuck out of you. 

Evan was a whole other story. The boy looked like a kicked puppy every time you came back from hanging out with Charles, only to tell him you didn’t get him an autograph nor did you bring into the conversation how cool he was or how amazing he was or how he and Charles would totally get on if you introduced them. You didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that up until seventy-two hours ago, Charles didn’t like him through a bizarre assumption.

It had been constant and annoying, but in a way that made your heart feel full because you knew no matter what, at least those two would support every decision you made. Even if they got unbearable during the meal times where Charles would find any excuse to come talk to you. 

Tonight was no different as he approached you with a smile spread across his face and something dangerous and promising shining in his eyes. You were sitting at the table alone whilst everyone else headed towards the tables to fill their plates—yours in Harper’s hand—and you were grateful for the small moment of peace as he leaned down. 

“Missing me already?” You teased. 

He shrugged, though he didn’t disagree. “I have a very important message for you.” 

You raised your brows in question. “Oh?” 

Instead of saying anything, the boy just grinned wider and handed you a small piece of paper. You frowned a little at it, looking up at him in confusion but the boy was already taking a few steps away from your table.

“Charles—”

But the boy just winked before turning on his heel, heading back to the table the rest of his friends were sitting at, where they were probably watching the whole interaction even if they tried to make it seem like they weren’t. 

You glanced down at the note in your hand, lips turned downwards as you opened the folded paper. It baffled you that he couldn’t just say what he had written down, but another part of you warmed a little at the idea that he had taken the time to write the note and go through with it—regardless of it being a bit silly. 

You couldn’t bite back your smile when you read the note. 

meet me @ midnight. my room number is 161. wear something cosy :) 

You snorted, shaking your head as every cell in your body thrummed in excitement to meet the boy you once hated later that night. 

…

“The note was cute, but I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just ask me to hang out.” 

“Because that’s not fun.”

“You just handed me the note, that’s hardly any different.”

“It was like a real life text, cherie. It’s how they used to do it back in the day.”

You snorted in response. 

You had listened to his advice, deciding that a hoodie and pyjama bottoms were the way to go as you snuck up to the floor he was staying at. Your knuckles had barely grazed the door before it was yanked open, a grinning boy on the other side. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie and grey sweatpants, his hair pushed back with a bandana and a pair of glasses sat on his nose.

He didn’t even give you a chance to say anything before he was dragging you inside.

It should have been obvious that Charles Leclerc of all people would have a suite but truthfully, you hadn’t even realised the lodge had master suites as big as this one. But it did. And it was huge. And you expected nothing less for the Monegasque. 

There were multiple different rooms that veered off the large living room: one that was furnished with a massive tv, soft plush sofas and a large fireplace that looked like it was straight out the front of a Christmas card. Surprisingly, it was decorated for the festive season with even a tree settled in the corner between the armchairs. It felt homely. It felt perfect for this midnight meeting. 

However, you didn’t get much of a chance to look around before he was dragging you out onto the balcony. There was a loveseat set up with pillows and blankets, and a small table set with hot chocolate and a plate of cookies (ones he assured you he had the chef make fresh). 

“I never took you to be so traditional,” you teased, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders as a light breeze hit you. “But I guess you have to make do since you haven’t even asked for my number.”

Charles raised his brows. “Is that your subtle way of telling me to hurry up and ask for it?” 

“Subtle is my middle name,” you retorted, his own repeated words thrown back in his face but they seemed to light a spark inside him. 

Charles’ eyes dropped to your lips for a few passing beats before they returned to your eyes, and you saw everything written in them. This was different to the days you had spent down in the foyer. Everyone could see you both. You could see everyone. It was public and out in the open and exposed. 

But here?

It was just you and him and the pretty night sky that shone and glittered with stars. You were away from the world, from reality. You were away from your family and friends. You were away from peering eyes and judgemental looks. You were in a bubble you never wanted to leave, huddled in thick wool blankets and desperately hoping he would close the minimal distance between you both. 

His lips were a hairbreadth away from brushing against yours when another breeze caressed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that momentarily jolted you away from him.

“You’re cold,” he noted, though it was pretty obvious when you two were both outside in minimal layers. “Let’s get inside. We can warm up by the fire.”

And a part of you wanted to scream off the balcony into the French Mountains when he stood up, when the moment broke and his lips weren’t against yours. But as angry as you wanted to be, you were grateful when he guided you to sit in front of the fire as he added more wood to the dying embers.

His thigh was brushing against yours when he settled into the spot beside you on the floor, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold as he grinned at you before holding his hands out to the fire. You laughed, following suit and the conversation from moments before the almost-kiss returned. 

However, minutes passed and your body was still racked with small shivers that Charles quickly picked up on.

“C’mere,” he murmured as he lifted his arm, giving you little time to dispute (not that you were going to) as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you into his side.

You didn’t think about it too much as you buried yourself into his embrace, as you pressed your cheek into his hoodie and enjoyed the way his hand seemed to leave a trail of heat wherever he touched. 

“If I get hypothermia and die, I’m coming back to haunt you and your sugar cookies,” you grumbled, though it was lighthearted as you pressed your nose further into the fabric of his hoodie. 

His chest shook underneath you as he laughed and tightened his hold on you. “I would never let anything happen to you, Stormy.”

“You and that stupid nickname,” you said as you let out a long sigh. “You know my actual name now. You have no excuse to use it.”

“Yeah, but it suits you,” Charles retorted, letting out a small noise of surprise when your cold fingers pinched his side. “Plus, you get this…uh, what’s the word…cute look on your face when you’re angry.” 

Your head snapped up to glare at him. “I don’t look cute when I’m angry.”

His face brightened. “Yes! That face! C’est mignon!"

Your eyes narrowed further. “Don’t pull the cute French card, it’s not gonna help you.”

“You think my French is cute?” Charles replied, his laugh echoing through the suite as you rolled your eyes.

“You drivers and your egos,” you grumbled.

“Have a lot of experience with drivers?” Charles questioned, a hint of something unreadable in his voice.

You snorted, both of you knowing the answer to that question but you played along. “Maybe I do.” 

His eyes darkened slightly. “What about kissing them?”

And just like that, Charles Leclerc had left you speechless for what felt like the millionth time since you met him.

His gaze was locked on your lips, the crackling of the fire felt like it was booming through the silent room and you were truly wondering if your heart was going to burst through your chest and splat on the floor in front of you both. 

“I can’t say I have much experience in that department,” you admitted once you managed to choke your words out.

His lips twitched upwards. “Would you like some experience, Stormy?” 

You didn’t know if you nodded or if he just took the signs of your flustered, stuttering mess and took mercy on you. You didn’t know if his hand reached to cup your face first or if it was your hand on the nape of his neck instead. You didn’t know if it was you moaning lowly into the kiss when his tongue darted out or if it was him. 

Kissing Charles Leclerc was overwhelming and world-altering and, truthfully, you didn’t think you could even utter your own name if someone asked you at that moment. 

“Merde,” he groaned before he kissed you harder, faster, more passionately. His other hand reached for your waist, those muscles hidden under his baggy hoodie put to good use as he hauled you onto his lap.

Your knees sat on either side of his hips, your ass firmly planted on his lap as the new position allowed you to fully wrap your arms around his neck. The boy’s hands dropped to your waist, squeezing and guiding as your hips shifted in his lap as his kisses left you seeking anything he would give you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted when he had to pull away, when his lungs were burning for air. But you still wanted more, you sought out to keep hearing those pretty noises he made as your lips trailed down his neck. “So fucking long.”

“You took your time,” you muttered between open-mouthed kisses when his hold tightened as your lips passed a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear.

“You hated me for a majority of the time we’ve known each other,” he managed to utter out, his head falling back as your teeth lightly grazed his skin.

“Does it look like I hate you now?” You retorted, something about the back and forth feeling as thrilling and exciting as his fingers fiddling with the hem of your hoodie.

Charles’ eyes caught yours as you lifted your head from his neck, lips red and swollen and fuck, he wanted to kiss you again. “I think I need a little more convincing.”

“Yeah?” You watched as he nodded, a little too eager but it made your stomach twist in the best way possible. “Well, you did promise to keep me warm.”

“I did,” he murmured, his voice a little rough and husky.

“Warm me up, Leclerc,” you whispered as you leaned down to kiss him again, his hands squeezing your waist before your lips even touched. “And then I’ll decide if I hate you still.”

A choked noise of surprise left your lips when Charles suddenly moved. You were no longer sitting on his lap, but instead had been laid back on the floor with the boy now hovering over you. He flashed you a smile, one twisted with promises that made your chest feel tight.

You waited for him to lean down and kiss you again. You waited to feel his heated touch on your body. You waited for him to finally slide his hands under the fabric of your hoodie, to feel his fingers along your bare skin. 

But instead, he just looked at you with so much fondness in his eyes.

“What?” You questioned, and suddenly the idea of being naked underneath him was no longer the most exposed you felt.

“Nothing,” he said simply as he shook his head. “Just…wanted to make sure.”

Your brows furrowed together. “Of what?”

“That you’re okay with this,” Charles said as he finally lifted his hand, as he let his fingers brush across the apple of your cheek. You could feel your skin heating up underneath his touch. “I want you to know that I’m happy to just talk. I don’t want you to think I just invited you here to—”

“Charles,” you interrupted, and the boy fell quiet as his cheeks flushed pink. “I want to.”

He tried to bite back his smile. “Yeah?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah.”

And despite the reassurance and despite the heat in your body that just wanted to throw your legs over the boy and ride him until the sun came up, Charles Leclerc was nothing, if not a gentleman. And something about that made it so much hotter. 

His touch was always so confident but gentle. The way his lips pressed against yours, the way his tongue caressed yours as his fingers slowly peeled away the layers of clothes between the two of you. The way he paused to set down pillows and a blanket to make it comfier for you before his fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and discarding them someplace else.

The way you reached down to cup his bulge in his boxers, prepared to slip your hand beneath the elastic of his boxers and stroke the length of him—only to have your hands batted away. You barely got a chance to question him before his kisses silenced you, before they began moving south and you felt his lips on every inch of your exposed skin that he could reach. 

You felt breathless by the time he was between your legs. You felt like your head was spinning with pleasure as he hooked his arms around your thighs and happily settled between them. You felt like you were in some sugar cookie induced dream as you glanced down, catching his eager eyes watching every little move and reaction you made.

The fire was roaring a few feet away, loud and proud and yet, it was his touch and whispered words that made your whole body feel like lava was coursing through your veins. It was the way his tongue swiped and licked your needy pussy, the way his lips wrapped around your clit until your back was arching off the ground. It was the way Charles murmured soft praises as his hands reached out for yours, as he intertwined your fingers and softly squeezed as you came on his tongue once, twice until you felt like a pile of bones. 

It was the way he smiled down at you like his face wasn’t glistening with your release. The way he leaned down to kiss you with the taste of yourself still on his tongue. It was the way he was fully prepared to leave it there, let you rest, spend the rest of the night listening to the random rants he could coax out of you. 

Charles only let out a surprised noise when you pushed him onto his back, as you straddled him like you fantasised about earlier and reached between your bodies to squeeze his aching cock.

You knew Charles Leclerc was pretty, even in the days where you thought you despised the man. It was an undeniable fact that he was easy on the eyes, that he was gorgeous, that he had one of those faces that didn’t make him feel like he was a real human. 

But he was undoubtedly prettier when you were sinking down on his cock, walls squeezing him as his lips parted to let out a string of curse words in a handful of languages you didn’t speak. 

His hands were all over you, his lips never stopped moving  and all it took was a slight lapse in your tempo as you rocked back and forth for the boy to grip your hips, hold you up with ease and fuck up into you.

You were a puddle on his chest, his lips right beside your ear as he whispered filthy words to you. His hands and kisses were gentle when it felt like you could feel his cock in your throat from how deep inside he was. Charles Leclerc was a fucking enigma that you didn’t ever want to work out. 

And even after he did most of the work, even after he was breathless and flushed and fucked out, you were still the first thing on his mind. Your comfort, your pleasure, just you.

“Cherie,” he murmured softly, the accent seeming a little thicker as he spoke. “We should move to the bed.”

“No,” your words muffled as you nuzzled yourself further into his chest, content where you were with your legs tangled together and your naked bodies pressed together. “I’m comfy here. Beside you.”

“Okay,” was all he said in response as he pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head and pulled the blanket over the both of you before holding you closer—if that was even possible.

…

The first thing you noted when you woke up was how comfortable the ground felt beneath you.

The second thing was that you were no longer on the floor, but on a very comfy bed with a mattress that felt like it was a cloud.

Your hand blindly reached out to your side, expecting to feel a solid, warm body and probably a disgruntled curse from a certain Monegasque, but it never came. Your brows furrowed together, your hand continuing to pat the bed but it felt cold under your touch. 

For a short moment, you wondered if you had dreamt it all. You wondered if it was just a hyper-realistic dream where you swore you could still feel his touch on you, if it was all a part of your imagination. 

And then, from the other side of the door, you heard a voice. 

Your lips unknowingly tilted upwards as you sat up in bed, the sheet falling to your waist as you did. You stretched out your limbs, moving with no real rush as you grabbed the first piece of clothing you could find—a shirt of Charles’ that rested at your thighs—before making your way towards the door. 

You pushed the door open, expecting to find him lounging on the couch as he talked away to whoever he was on the phone with, but he wasn’t. You leaned your head out, peeking around to instead finding him on the balcony, the door still open to let his voice and a chilly breeze carry through into the suite.

You contemplated bracing the cold and making your way towards the balcony, to wrap your arms around his waist and settle into the warmth of him as he finished his call. Your hand moved to pull the door open wider, but then the muffled voice became actual words and you froze.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me. She never has. Why should I care now?”

You frowned a little. 

“I was doing her a favour, for no other reason.”

Your stomach churned, but you tried to ease your thoughts that were threatening to spiral.

“I’m not going to ever see her again after this trip, what’s the big deal anyways?”

But that? That was your final straw.

You felt sick to your stomach as you rushed around the room, staying as silent as you could as you redressed yourself. Your head felt like it was spinning, like you couldn’t even keep up with your own thoughts. You wanted to feel angry and spiteful, and maybe you did. 

But most of all, you just felt disappointed. 

In yourself. In the situation. In the man you thought Charles Leclerc was. 

You were fighting down the bile that felt like it was rising up your throat when you finally slipped out of his suite. He was still on the phone, still on the balcony when you left. And he probably wouldn’t even realise you were gone until you were safely back in your own room, where you could let everything hit you at once and let the tears threatening to spill finally fall. 

You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe he was that kind of guy, another asshole that you had laid yourself out in front of, only for it to be thrown back in your face. You wanted to believe he was the gentleman you saw, touched and kissed last night. 

But the truth of the matter was that Charles Leclerc was just another name on your list of men who disappointed you, and you didn’t want to see his stupid, perfect face ever again.

…

Charles was absolutely fucking baffled. 

He felt like he was missing a key bit of information in his own life, and no matter how many times he replayed the last week or so in his head, he couldn’t work out what he was doing wrong. 

After a season of disappointing races and a team that played with his strategy like a fucking water balloon being thrown around by a group of toddlers, Charles wanted an escape. He wanted a place away from journalists and fans and everyone who even knew who he was. He just wanted a break from his own life.

The vacation at The Chalet was meant to just be that, but it became so much more.

For the first time in a long time, Charles felt like himself again. He felt happy. He was excited for the new year, he was excited for the future, he was excited for what possibly lay ahead of him. He felt like he was in some dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It was his reality and he woke up every day eager to know what amazing thing would happen to him—to know what amazing day he would have with you.

But that dream seemed to crumble into pieces when he realised you were ignoring him.

He didn’t try to take it too personally when he headed back into the bedroom that morning, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold weather but eager to spend a few lazy hours with you in between the sheets. He was eager to make you smile and maybe kiss you, maybe do something more.

But disappointment hit his chest when he saw the empty room. 

He just assured himself that you probably had to head back to your room before your family and friends woke up, or maybe you wanted to freshen up. He assured himself he would see you at breakfast and everything would be fine. 

But it wasn’t fine because you weren’t at breakfast. He waited in case you came at the end, but you didn’t. 

He waited for you at the usual spot in the foyer, but you never came.

He waited for you at lunch and dinner too, but you never came. 

The next day, he almost expected the same and was preparing himself to ask one of your friends if you were okay, but he was shocked to find you sitting in your usual place at breakfast. He smiled at you, something in his chest easing as he made a step in your direction, but the dirty glare you sent his way was enough to make him stop in his tracks. 

You didn’t turn up to the foyer that day either but between the dirty looks from you and the fact he was pretty sure Harper tried to trip him up at the coffee stand, he knew something was wrong. 

He just didn’t know what.

And every time he tried to get near you, tried to talk to you, it was a pathetically failed attempt that left that competitive streak inside his chest blaring with annoyance. 

You were ignoring him and he didn’t know why.

And then he saw it, three days after you started ignoring him. He was making his way into the dining hall, having just showered after a day in the slopes his friends dragged him out for, when he saw you and Evan by the buffet. 

Your eyes found his and something in his chest sparked. 

And then his eyes fell to the way your hand rested on Evan’s arm, the way you leaned into him as you laughed, the way Evan’s arm was thrown over your shoulder as you both walked back to your table. He watched as you both sat next to each other, so close your thighs were probably  pressed together under the table and something bitter settled in his stomach. 

He knew he had no real reason to be jealous. Especially between the fact that you yourself had assured him everything between you and Evan was platonic (if not familial) and the fact there was no real talk of anything being between you and himself other than a shitload of chemistry. 

But even logic didn’t stop the jealousy he felt.

His appetite was gone after that, as he turned around and headed back to his suite that felt a little bittersweet after the amazing night and shit morning he had with you. But he wasn’t in the mood to eat or pine for you from a distance. 

Charles was sick and tired of you ignoring him, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. 

And the first step in his plan had everything to do with the blond you were currently laughing and touching. He just needed to get Evan alone.

…

It was Christmas Eve when Charles’ plan finally reached its final step—to finally talk to you.

It felt like an odd sense of deja vu when you woke up that morning, making your way down for breakfast before you got ready for the slopes that day. You thought nothing off the weird looks Evan was giving you or the way he seemed giddier than usual, because truthfully it was no different to how Evan usually was on Christmas Eve. 

You put down his eagerness to head towards the slopes under the assumption he probably had some weird challenge for you and Harper at the top. You just hoped this one wouldn’t result in another sprained ankle. 

“I’m riding with you today, Stormy,” Evan said as the three of you headed towards the ski lift.

“Uh, get in line, loser,” Harper spoke up as she stood on the other side of you. “I called dibs.” 

Evan narrowed his eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I did just now,” Harper retorted. 

“Does it really matter?” You questioned, amused as you glanced between the two of them.

“Yes!”

“No!” 

Harper and Evan turned to glare at each other, confusion from one of them and insistence from the other. However, you just laughed and shook your head. 

“Fine, first one to the lift wins!” 

You were already settled in the lift as you heard the two of them bickering to each other. You waited to see which one would win, to see who would settle in the spot next to you. However, what you failed to notice was the way Evan all but threw himself on top of his sister so she couldn’t reach the lift before someone else did. 

You turned, a smile on your face as you waited to greet the winning Montgomery, but instead you found yourself staring at a painfully familiar set of green eyes. 

And in an instant, your smile dropped at the sight of Charles Leclerc sitting next to you. 

But before you could even think about jumping off the lift and taking the next seat, the lift was already too high up for you to do anything about it. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said to break the silence.

But you didn’t respond.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me but at least hear me out,” Charles continued, a hint of desperation in his voice. “This is all a misunderstanding.” 

You kept your gaze facing forward.

“Evan told me what you thought happened that morning.”

And just like that, your head snapped around to stare at him, a mix of emotions going through you right now—though the biggest was possibly Evan’s betrayal. 

“You weren’t lying when you said he was a big fan,” he said with a nervous laugh. “It didn’t actually take much for him to tell me why you’ve been ignoring me.”

“You used my friend?” You questioned, the bitterness and coldness in your voice evident.

“I asked and he gave me information,” Charles corrected before his shoulders sagged a bit. “Look, don’t blame him. He heard what I had to say and—”

“And I don’t care what you have to say so go talk to Evan about it,” you spat back at him, watching the way he winced at your words.

“Cherie—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Stormy—”

“And definitely don’t call me that.”

“Please,” Charles pleaded as he looked at you with wide eyes, ones that held so many emotions you did not want to see. “That phone call was not what you think.” 

You looked away at the mention of the phone call, something quite like anger and disgust bubbling inside you at the mere reminder of the words you heard that morning. “Just…stop it, Charles. I don’t care, okay? You go about your life and I’ll go about mine.”

“No,” he stated simply.

You scoffed. “What? You need another girl in another city to have fawning over you? The hundreds of others not enough?”

“No, because I am not interested in my life not having you in it. I am not interested in a hundred other girls.” The words were stated like they were facts. “Stormy, I just want you.”

You scoffed again but a hand tugging yours made you look over at Charles, fully prepared to pull your hand away. 

“I wasn’t talking about you on the phone that morning,” Charles quickly blurted out before you had a chance to say anything. “Everything you heard on the phone that morning, it wasn’t about you.”

You blinked.

“It was about Melanie.”

Your brows furrowed together, a crease forming between them that Charles had the urge to smooth out with his thumb, but he resisted.

“What?”

“She—” Charles paused for a moment, like he was trying to gather the correct words. “She’s not my friend, not really.”

You blinked again. “She’s not? But she acts—”

“She acts like we are, yes. She’s a friend of a friend, and that’s about all there is to her. She’s…uh, how do you say? She seems to have gained a crush on me? Or maybe it’s some weird obsession. I’m not quite sure,” Charles admitted with a frown. “She asked me out once, almost a year ago and I declined. But she has latched onto the group ever since and I couldn’t quite shake her off.”

You didn’t say anything, instead letting him continue. 

“She wasn’t even meant to be on this trip,” Charles confessed. “But she said to our mutual friend that she was alone this Christmas and…I just couldn’t say no, right? But she’s spent the last year acting like I didn’t reject her and I didn’t like the idea of being trapped up here with her. But even with all our other friends, she was always beside me. She was always there. And when she started to throw tantrums to our friends and make up stories after I started spending time with you, I had enough.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock.

“Turns out she told all our friends that we were together,” Charles said with a grimace. “That we wanted to keep it a secret from the media, and that meant I wanted to keep it from everyone. She tried to make it out like I was a monster to our friends when I started spending days with you. Thankfully, none of them believed a word she said but…it was just too much.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why you heard me ranting on the phone about not seeing her after this trip because I have no plans to be around her ever again and I made that clear to my friends. You can even ask them if you don’t believe me,” Charles said as he finally let out a long breath. He looked at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I would never say those things about you. Not when you might just be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Your cheeks burned. “Charles—”

“I know you feel it too,” he continued, and that desperate note to his voice returned. “I know you’ve felt it all week. I know you felt it that night. I know you feel like this—us—could be something.”

“I’m such an idiot,” you muttered, closing your eyes as you realised the agonsing and the pain and the ignoring over the last few days could have been avoided if you stayed in the bedroom a little longer that morning. Or if you had just spoken to him instead of letting the pettiness take over.

“You had no reason to think otherwise about me, cherie, and I get that,” Charles said as he squeezed your hand, almost like a tester to see if you would pull away or not. But you didn’t. “But I want to change that. I want to explore this. I want to show you that I would never do that to you. I want to give you reasons to trust me.”

“I would like that,” you murmured in a soft voice, but Charles heard you loud and clear as he grinned at you. 

“Yeah? You don’t hate me still?” He questioned.

You laughed, shaking your head as you did. “I don’t think I ever hated you, Charles.”

“Good, it makes this easier then,” he said before he leaned in, his slightly chapped lips pressed against yours—and something about it felt like coming home. 

You sunk into his embrace, your hand coming up to cup his cheek like you needed to believe he was really there (even if the gloves made it a little awkward). But feeling him smile against your lips was assurance enough. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Charles.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Stormy. I hope it’s one of many with you.” 

And maybe Charles Leclerc became another one of the many reasons you loved The Chalet.

.

[thebastardscull]

Okay but think about it, being Sevika’s favorite bartender?

Part 2 here!

She’ll only ever come to The Last Drop during your shifts. You’ll have her favorite drink (three fingers of whiskey with a single cube of ice) waiting for her, still cold.

Sevika slumps into the stool in front of the bar, watching (aka checking you out) as you slink back and forth, taking orders quickly and filling drinks even quicker. She’s tired, she’s had a long day- but seeing you helps, only if it’s a little bit.

Once the rush is finished and you’ve had a second to clean up, she’ll wait for you to lean over the bar to tell you about her day. You stand there, listening as any bartender would if they were good at their job. But what makes you different is that you do so happily, and you tell her about your day too, throwing in jokes or even little nods of understanding if she’s had a rather hard day.

(And her heart skips a few beats when you finally lock eyes on her and she can’t stop the way her hand sweats a little, but that probably doesn’t mean anything.)

But as this continues, the banter becomes more flirtatious. “The new guy I’m training dropped a handle of vodka and make me clean the damn thing up. Can you believe that?!” Or “Silco’s got me looking over another shipment tomorrow, fucker needs to start giving me vacation days.” slowly becomes “I like your hair Sev, did you do something different? You look handsome.” Or “You know, those shorts make your ass look great. What? I’m just saying!” As you give her a pointed look.

Once you unfortunately have to get back to your job, she’ll go over to her table for a few rounds of cards. She’ll keep an eye on you the entire time, making sure no one gets too rowdy or touchy with you. Not like everyone knows not to fuck with you anyways.

After she’s spent a few rounds taking people’s paychecks, your shift is almost over. She’ll saunter over all cocky-like with coins jangling in her bag, a smug look on her face as if she doesn’t rob people blind every other night.

Sevika will lean on the bar and wait patiently as you finish up and catch her attention. Her hands will dip into her bag, counting a hefty amount of money before sliding it over to you. “And this is your share, for being my lucky charm.” Despite your protests almost every night, she’ll insist you keep the outrageously large ‘tip’ and even go as far as to just walk away from you if you keep insisting on not taking it.

If she has the time, Sevika will wait for you in the back alley by the employee entrance, leaning on the brick wall and puffing on a cigarillo, loitering until you come out. You give her a warm greeting and she simply smiles, the gap between her two front teeth peeking out just a little bit which absolutely does not make you melt a little bit. Nope. Not at all.

She insists on walking you home, even if you lived on the other side of town. Her arm draped over your shoulder, letting you under her cape during the cold months. She swears to both you and her it’s just to make sure you get home safe. And it mostly is- but she’ll also scold herself in the mirror when she gets home about not making a move on you. She doesn’t notice when you slip some of the coins back into her bag.

But the longer this goes on, you’ll begin to hesitate by the front door. You both find an excuse to stand there and chat longer, sharing a cigarette. For months now you’ve been trying to hype yourself up to invite her inside. Or kiss her at the doorstep. Or just do something.

But you don’t.

Not yet.

-

Authors note: Hey!! This is my first time actually posting something like this, I hope you guys enjoy! 💕

[just-a-ghost00]

Who is your secret admirer? 👀

If you feel like someone’s been eying you and you would like to check if your intuition about them is right, then this reading is for you. There will be a part two covering whether you know them or not and what this person admires about you.

There will be three sections for each group :

1. Their physical traits

2. Their personality

3. Complementary info using key words based on the letters you get

Group 1 🌹

Their appearance - 10 of wands, The Sun, 9 of pentacles, 2 of swords, Queen of cups, The Fool, Strength, Death, Movement, with a special appearance of the 7 of swords

This person is a busy bee. They look really tired or like they’re constantly in a rush. This person tends to avoid your gaze. They are quite charming and cute, their body has a good balance. They are rather slender and slim. They look strong though. Like they lift weights or something. This person can be quite intense if they want to, especially because they are so athletic and well off financially. But they are super humble so even though they know they look good, they do their best not to brag about it. So this person tends to dress casually, they wear clothes that don’t always fit them or bring the best out of their looks. They wear sporty clothes often like some kind of camper’s bag or running shoes. Their eyes is a key feature of their looks. They’re sweet yet bold. A fair mix of flirty and shy. This person could be really versatile in how they look around you. They are the sexy cute type, the type of person that attracts people with their brains more than their body. Though they look like a snack in this case. This person could be a swimmer so their arms and torso/back could be something that stands out compared to the rest of their body. They look like they would give the best hugs ever. 🤩

Their personality - The Tower, 4 of cups, The Hierophant, The High Priestess, The Lovers, 8 of wands, The Sovereign, Dare to dream, Transmute

Let me tell you, this person is hot AF. There is a stark contrast between their looks and their personality. This person looks so innocent but deep down they are soooo horny and dominant. No wonder this person wouldn’t look you in the eyes : they were too busy looking at your chest. They love it to a fault! They fantasize about you a whole lot. When it comes to who they are on a more general basis, they are very confident. They are a leader. They are wise, they know their worth. This person is a loner and they have strong boundaries. They don’t lose their time with what they’re not interested in. Same goes for people. They only engage in conversations with people that can match their intensity or bring something to the table. If they deem you unworthy, they would have no problem cutting ties. This person is very clever. They are constantly thinking. They are also super intuitive. Like the Hierophant and the High Priestess combo is super connected. This person definitely believes in a higher power, no matter how they label it. With the lovers and the 8 of wands, this person is quick to fall in love and very passionate once they know where they stand with you. They enjoy the banter a lot. They’re a sapiosexual. Not only are they excited by your looks but they also love your sassy and witty nature. The Hierophant / High Priestess / Lovers combo makes me think that this person is engaged but would gladly have a sneaky link with you anytime. The Tower and 4 of cups combo tells me that they like to challenge perceptions of others but don’t like theirs to be challenged. Let me tell you this person was not mentally prepared to meet you. You have put their world upside down to say the least. They can’t control their desire but they try really hard to repress it.

Complementary info - G I E A T Z I C R Y D A P L U

Words I’m picking up on : gay, guy, crazy, day care, guitar, cry, play date, icy gaze, player, age, gap, duty, large, diaper, price, duality, cage, pirate, trail, page, trace, guard, place, Italy, palace, rule, party, lace, Gael, Gail, Gaelic, Zac, Celia, Alice, Alicia, Ciel, Dalia, Ali, Lyra, Lydia, Craig, Giulia, Caty, Zara, Algeria, cute, cutie, prize, prude, girly

Group 2 ❣️❣️

Their appearance - Two of wands, White Numen, 7 of cups, King of cups, four of pentacles, 9 of wands, Power, Fate, Get creative

Okay this can be quite specific but for some this person is a farmer or someone that creates with their hands in a more general sense. Their hands, arms and upper body area are key features of this person’s look. They look intimidating, a bit stern, guarded for sure. Like the type of person that shouldn’t be messed with. Everything about them is meaty and juicy, even the D / the C. Their sense of style is pretty flowy. They like oversized clothes. Things that are practical and that they wouldn’t mind getting dirty 😉😉 They have a daddy / mommy vibe to them. They look like they’ve been through a lot and they can’t be bothered. Like you can’t fool them. They look mature. We got some DILFs and MILFs here lmao If they’re a man they got the full beard and grey hair sticking out here and there, if they’re a woman they got the long lucious hair and flowy sundresses that enhances their beautiful clivage. I’m specifically picturing for women their beautiful fuppa born from the birthing of beautiful children. This person is very sensual. And their sensuality comes from years of experience and knowledge, of working on themselves and providing for their family. They look very trustworthy and clean. Very healthy. Those are the type of people that are active on a daily basis, either because of their job or because they indulge in a lot of outdoor activities. They could like running or gardening. We also have artists here. Painters, musicians, sculptors, writers even. They kind of have an other worldly appearance. Like a Greek god/goddess that would have decided to walk among the mortals.

Their personality - knight of cups, queen of cups, Hierophant, page of swords, king of swords, page of pentacles, Love, The Sage

This person is very sweet. They are understanding, kind, patient. They love everyone. They are very contemplative. They like to make their own mind when doing something for the first time or meeting new people. They aren't the kind to gossip or take gossip seriously. They value traditions and respect more than anything else. They were educated quite strictly but it has done this person good. If they're a man, they were taught how to treat women fairly and consider them as their equal. If they're a woman, they were taught to support and uplift other women. They have a lot of knowledge and like to learn. They like to be challenged and mentally stimulated. They enjoy psychology, reading, writing. They know how to set boundaries and be ruthless in certain situations but they're also empathetic, able to compromise and find solutions that are beneficial to everyone. They feel very feminine. They take after the feminine figures in their life, especially their mother. They are nurturing and protective. They like to value others but also inspire and be inspired. They aren't afraid of being vulnerable, of making mistakes or stepping into the unknown. They have a lot of love to give. They are very romantic, even idealistic and naive at times. This person coul be a teacher or a healer of some kind. They were taught never to judge nor to belittle, never to think of themselves as superior to anyone, never to deny anyone of their love, respect or help. They gladly share what they have, help people out, show the way when needed. They are a chosen leader. They don't aspire to be one but people end up following them because of their sincere and pure nature. They have a lot of charisma and natural charm that doesn't feel forceful. They're in tune with their emotions and understand others' well. I'm getting that for some of you, this person enjoys poetry and/or romance novels.

Extra info - S E L I M A T A I I T U I R A

Words I picked up on : Selim, Selima, Rituals, trials, meat, Islam, rate, mates, teams, salute, émirats (French for emirates), emails, Italie (Italy), sutra, tiramisu, restau ( short for restaurant in French), amitié (French for friendship), Mauri (people from Mauritania), militaire (French for military), Mistral, Australia, Lisa, Asia, Israel, serial, laser, taser, Semirat, Rasul (Arabic for Prophet/messenger), Sami, Sam, Salima, Salim, Salem, Salam, Ismail, Smail, Islem, Tiamat, Tiamut, Mali

Group 3 👑♥️

Their looks - queen of pentacles, 6 of swords, 10 of wands, ace of pentacles, Death, The Lovers, Get Curious, The Sovereign

They look athletic and agile, a bit like a monkey. I thought of pirates for this group. I'm kinda picturing Monkey D. Luffy. This person could be a One Piece fan. They may have some similarities with this character. For those of you that don't know who this is, here's a GIF of the character to kinda get an idea (it's the guy in red).

Their limbs could be super stretchy lmao They just appear very trustworthy but also a bit reckless. But more than that, they look like they've been through a lot of stuff. Despite that, they're still pretty optimistic and want to believe in humanity. Just like the character, I guess. They look like the world's weight relies on their shoulders. They could have dark hair and eyes. They also look really young and unique. Their style can be a bit surprising. Like maybe they wear stuff that's not considered typical for people like them. They like rather flowy clothes that make them feel at ease. They also like contrast. They experiment a lot with their clothing style. So they can switch from one extreme to the other depending on their mood. It's like everything suits them. There's always something regal about them. They have a long neck or the way they stand and carry themselves makes them look like they come from a noble family. They always walk or talk slowly, they have an intense gaze. Key features of this person could be arms and eyes. They have this mischievous glint in their eyes, one that says "life is fun and if you don't think like that then I'm gonna make sure you do when you're with me". Honestly they're mostly a goofball and people might not take them very seriously based on their looks.

Their personality - 4 of pentacles, king of pentacles, Death, 2 of swords, Wheel of fortune, King of cups, The Pillar, Compassion

This person is deep. What they show is nothing compared to who they are. They are so mature and wise people would be shocked once they know them. They hide a lot of their scars, their doubts, their wealth and abundance. They don't trust people easily. They have to make sure you're worthy first. But once they trust you they give you their all. They have a happy go lucky personality with the people they trust the most. But they are ruthless with the ones they don't like. They have a strong moral compass and support their loved ones whole heartedly. This really matches Luffy's energy. If they feel like someone was unfairly treated, they would do anything in their power to get retribution for them. They may have a savior complex. They think rationally and take everything seriously, even the little things. They are dedicated to their work and their loved ones. They are an example for people around them. They like to take under their wing people that have been hurt, left behind or misjudged because they know what it feels like to be rejected or misunderstood. Their mind can get a bit negative sometimes. They tend to be harsh on themselves but extremely kind toward others.

Extra info - M U R R A K E A A Z E Y O N B

Words I picked up on : bronze, key, year, Amazon, bear, aroma, Kobe, Azurro, Manabu, bee, Roza, Zakary, Zakarya, Ryuk, Ruben, Roy, Akon, Marzo(March), May, Bron, Ryan, Marny, Zayn, karma, Roma, mabrouk (Arabic for blessed/lucky/prosperous), amaze, amen (either the Latin expression to end prayers), aman (Kabyle for water), Mary, Mauro, Amano, Arman, Armen, Korea, Zara, armor, amore, Kenya, Keny, Mokran, Yen, Ben, zen, yakuza, Kurama, Yan

[echantedtoon]

Kinda like my last post but more poly. Auish so barely anything's cannon. Kimetsu Gauken based. Artwork not mine both found on Pinterest. Will probably contain some headcannons from my Kagamane x Reader headcannons post too.

-How did you catch the attention of these two couples? You literally had no idea.

-You only knew that you were Muzan's secretary before he hired Kokushibo to take over your job as he was 'better suited.' But unbeknownst to you, that was a way to just get closer to you by Muzan and his wife.

-You've been working for the couple for over two years having been hired by Two to help the both of them manage their companies. Muzan wasn't happy about his wife hiring someone without his say so but relented the because his wife was happy with you.

-You did a very good job honestly. Papers were always perfectly filed, and you were very organized and clean. You kept up with his own and Rei's Business deals separated unless needed to be combined. He couldn't remember how many times the last secretary mixed up their appointments and costed them time and money. You were also on time all the time everyday and had materials at the ready for whatever he needed.

-Rei was quite satisfied with your performance as well and he liked knowing his wife was happy so he didn't care about her inviting you to have small lunch breaks with her and their daughter.

-Their daughter was quite taken by you as well. Smiling and talking about how nice you were and how you had help her learn how to spell a big learn that won her spelling bee at school.

-Rei quite agreed you were quite a charming lady and she wouldn't mind having you around more often. He agrees.

-While you're professional and perficiant in what you do and your bubbly kind and positive personality added a bit of fresh air into the office and at the same time you weren't overly positive for him to find you annoying. If fact he quite looked forward to the way you treated him every morning with your bright smile and a cup of his favorite coffee. How you and Rei smile like old friends and get along so well. How his daughter is always excitedly bouncing around and showing off what cool new facts she learnt 'from the nice office lady'!

-Its inevitable they would find someone as cute as you unable to resist for long. It's not surprisingly Rei that brings up the subject first while at breakfast and he's reading a newspaper. "Dear, Y/n was so kind to teach our little darling how to easily spell arithmetic the other day." "Mmhm. Very nice." "You know I don't think we're really giving her a position she deserves. You've always said that I could use a personal assistant for my work." "Darling, you just read my mind."

-You are shocked when the happy couple announced that you were fired from your secretary job but they were moving you to be Rei's personal assistant. You gingerly try to reject the offer but they insist having already replaced you with Kokushibo who turns out if far more efficient.

-So begins your very awkward new job as Rei's personal assistant. Some of it isn't too different from your old job minus following her around during the day. You still file paperwork for her and handle calls if she's busy, but now you also did things for her such as getting her awkwardly massive food orders-

"I have your double shrimp salad bowls."

"Oh thank you. But I must've gotten too much. You eat the other one you've been working so hard and deserve some food."

And going shopping with her as she gifts you extra items she ..accidentally buys an item she didn't want.

"I have all your bags, Ma'am."

"Thank you. But it seems I accidentally bought the purple heels instead of black."

"Shall I call the store and request a refund for the shoes?"

"No need. You can keep them. They're your size anyways."

-You also start to help out Rei's husband by rearranging furniture in his office as he works and gauges your help in certain things.

"I want you to take this."

".... It's an address and..IS THIS THREE THOUSED DOLLARS?!"

"Yes. I'm thinking about buying a share at this new retreat but unfortunately I'm far too busy to go myself. Go check yourself in for a week and report back to me anything wrong with the place."

Even when you go, granted having a good time, and comeback with your positive feedback you don't see any shares listed for the retreat in the financial database. But he does use your help in other situations too-

"Is this a dinner reservation?"

"Yes. I'm interested in hosting a business dinner together with some investors next week. Go to the reservation and see if their food is up to my standards."

You are concerned when he sees no investors the next week.

-You start to get very awkward when Rei requests you start doing more personal things. Like tutoring their daughter and picking her up from school and playing with her when they're busy. And staying to have dinner with them multiple times a week even if you decline.

-You unexpectedly get a raise despite doing less work than your last position.

-You get invited on outings together to help watch their daughter but for some reason there's always a place set aside for you or the reservations always included a fourth person.

-You get random gifts with excuses-

"My daughter thinks it's your birthday and she'll be upset if I didn't at least gift you some flowers."

"Here. I never used this dress anyways and they got my size wrong."

"My wife misplaced her necklace so I ordered a new one for her. She just found the old one today so you may keep the extra."

-One day you pick up their daughter from elementary school and she's just happily chatting away in the back seat.

"I can't wait for Mother's Day. I'm gonna make you and Mommy the best cards ever!"

"Aw. You don't have to do that. I'm not even your mom."

"Not yet! You have to marry them first and I'm gonna be the flower girl!!"

"Haha! I'm not marrying your mommy and daddy."

"Huh? You're not?"

"Of course not. What made you think that?"

"Because Daddy says I can be the flower girl! Mommy even picked out matching dresses for all three of us in that fancy magazine!"

-Both are a mixed reaction when they receive your professional company email that very night explaining that the hours were starting to get bad for you so you were putting in your two weeks and using all your company vacation days for that entire week so they didn't have to trouble you for a final paycheck.

-Rei is absolutely shocked and very, very confused. Why did you suddenly quit? If the hours were getting to bad then they'd be happy to talk with you about it and rearrange things.

Muzan is pissed. How dare you just quit on such short notice?! After everything they did?! You didn't even have mind to tell them in person!

Both try calling you but get nothing but voicemail, their emails go unanswered as well. Their daughter is very upset. Why did you leave? Weren't you going to marry them?

-Unbeknownst to the couple you use the extra money from your sudden raise to move away to a new residence. Blocking both on your old email and phone before completely getting a brand new email address and number and being sure to block them again on those too before gathering up all the unwanted gifts up to mail them back being sure to include no return address.

-After laying low for about a month you decide to go back out to job hunt. Eventually finding a secretary position open at a local school after the old secretary retired! Perfect! You end up calling the number listed for the principal and she's nice enough to arrange an interview for you with her husband, the Chairman of Kimetsu Academy.

-The interview actually goes very well! Mr. Kagaya Ubuyashiki is a very kind man and his wife is also very kind and both of them were impressed with your resume. You got the job the day!

-You're a little out of your territory being in a a school setting but slowly things start turning. You start to really enjoy your job at the Academy. You've already made friends with a few teachers like Kyojuro and Gyomei.

-Students start to like coming to the office more because of how bubbly and friendly the new secretary is. The teachers start to talk to you more often and invite you to staff parties and outside work events. Events that you were free to DECLINE and no one was giving you an uncomfortable feeling.

-Was working your old job really that stressful? You couldn't remember the last time you actually felt appreciated or just had someone treat you normally.

-Kagaya thinks it's amusing watching you shyly peek into the doorway to his office with papers clutched into your hands and bashfully asking if you could come in. The way you so innocently look unsure of something or squeak out a question. It's adorable seeing your attempts.

Amane finds your sweet and bubbly personality is perfect for the job! Especially when she sees how much you love interacting with the students and always friendly towards her own children. When you shyly ask her for help with scheduling or ask where a certain file is, always puts a smile on her face.

-Speaking of the Ubuyashiki children, you adore the quintuplets! And don't mind watching them in the office for a little bit if Kagaya or Amane was running a little late or had to do last minute work. Because they always asked you if you'd be alright with it first and didn't expect you to do anything outside your job.

-Somewhere along the way they ask you politely if you'd like to have dinner with them without any expectations for you saying yes and you agree wholeheartedly. Making it a weekly thing where you all would all have dinner together Sunday night.

-Muzan and Rei really don't know where you went for the longest time until he just happens to mention you in front of Nakime who recognizes you instantly and reveals it to him.

-Muzan is absolutely RAGED to find out not only are you working for his cousin but seemed to be dating his cousin and his wife!! Rei has to hold him back and tell him to not do anything dumb before he goes to do anything actually dumb like storm into the academy and yell at everyone.

-Instead he furiously calls his cousin and DEMANDS to know what the hell he thought he was doing!! And DEMANDS to let him talk to you THAT INSTANT!!

"Oh yes. You're the really weird bosses she was talking about. How's your dating life going?"

"YOU FUCKER!! IF YOU DON'T DO AS I SAY I SWEAR YOU'LL PAY FOR IT ONE WAY OR ANOTHER!!"

"How do you both manage to get married but still pull no bitches combined?"

"YOU MOTHERFU-"

Rei later scolds him for cussing in front of their daughter at her cousins and for chucking his phone off their second story balcony.

-She tries to later apologize for his tantrums via calling Amane who firmly states that they were not to go near you but much more politely.

-Your're later very surprised to discover that Muzan and Kagaya are actually cousins but it doesn't change your opinion on the Ubuyashikis because of how well they have been treating you.

[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

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[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Cowboy

@wolfstarmicrofic June 28, word count 847

Previous part First part

Sirius sidled up to James once he and Remus got back to the cabin. Remus ducked into the bathroom and Sirius narrowed his eyes at James.

“What happened to, ‘Don’t worry, Sirius, I swear I won’t interrupt you and Remus again when you’re having some alone time,’?” 

“Sirius, I swear it wasn’t intentional. There were bees!” James tried to explain to him. 

“You had the entire forest and yet somehow you ended up in the same pool as Remus and, just when we were about to…” He stopped talking, his face becoming hot as he blushed. What had they been about to do? Sirius didn’t even know. He’d let his fingers trace the edge of Remus’s waistband and Remus had leant back. Granted him permission. He didn’t even have time to think before James had disturbed them. Maybe it was for the best. He ground his teeth. Why was he so nervous? The few girls he’d been with had been so easy. Why did doing anything with Remus make his heart stutter and his brain overthink? Sirius was not one for overthinking. He ran in head first and dealt with the consequences later. Remus came out of the bathroom and he dropped it while they went for dinner. 

Sirius skipped ahead of their group to Wanda, who was serving pudding tonight.

“Wanda, might I say you look a vision tonight?” He turned his best smile on her. She brandished her spatula at him.

“Oh, stop you.” She chuckled at him. “I know why you’ve turned your charm on.” She leant in conspiratorially. “It’s Remus’s favourite tonight, isn’t it? And you want to sweet talk me into giving him an extra slice.” He tilted his head down and looked up at her through his long eyelashes. 

“Maybe,” Wanda plonked a piece of cake on his plate. 

“Of with you, you cheeky sod.” She winked at him before he moved on, “I’ll see what I can do,” Sirius beamed at her. 

He watched from their table as Remus nearly flung himself at Wanda when she’d put an extra piece of cake on his plate. Sirius mouthed a thank you to her. Remus was so happy with his extra pudding that he wolfed down his dinner. He probably didn't even taste it and started on his chocolate cake. The greedy git even finished off Sirius’s. He’d pretended to be full revelling in the joy on Remus’s face when he took a bite of the bonus cake. 

“So the dance is tomorrow,” James said once they were all done. “What’s everyone going as?”

“Going as?” Remus questioned. 

“It’s fancy dress, sweetheart,” Sirius told him, taking his hand as they left the main hall. 

“Oh,” Remus’s face fell. “I didn’t know. I don’t have anything with me.” Sirius’s heart broke from the sadness in his voice. He squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I always bring spares. You can wear one of mine.” He offered as they walked into the cabin. 

“Thank you,” Remus looked relieved. “What are you going as?” He asked him quietly.

“I’m the pirate king, Remus, I’m going as a pirate.” 

“I’m going as a lion!” Peter grinned and pulled out a furry lion’s mane wig from his drawers along with a lion onesie. 

“I’m going as Severus,” James said proudly, taking out a set of clothes that looked exactly the same as the ones Snape had on along with a short straight-haired wig. “I got this before we liked you,” He apologised to Snape when he glowered at him. 

“I’m going as the sheriff of Nottingham. Lily thought it would be funny as she wanted to go as Robin Hood and have Pandora as maid Marian,” He scowled at them, daring them to laugh. 

“I bet you’d look amazing as him. Do you have a fancy tunic?” Sirius asked. Snape shook his head no.

“It’s a cheap one from a costume shop,” He explained. Sirius dove under his bed and dragged out a huge bag that was full to bursting. He unzipped it and began pulling its contents out.  It took him a few minutes to get everything laid out on his bed, but soon he had three complete costumes. One perfect replica of the Captain Jack Sparrow outfit for him, one fancy outfit for Snape that would work for the sheriff, and one for Remus. 

“Saddle up cowboy,” He let one side of his mouth pull up in a crooked smile at Remus, “You’re going to the ball.” Remus reached forward and let his fingers trail across the costume he’d laid out. Sirius picked up the cowboy hat and placed it over Remus’s sandy curls. “Damn, I don’t know how I’m gonna fight off all the girls and boys that are going to throw themselves at you at the dance but, sweetheart, you look hot as hell,” Remus blushed and Sirius couldn’t help it. He wrapped his arms around his waist and drew him in for a passionate kiss, ignoring the wolf whistles coming from the other three. Remus was stunning and he was his. 

Next part

[jacksjargon]

I'm typically only a reblogger when it comes to AFTG, but I physically couldn't help it when I stumbled across these shirts. So, here are some funny shirts that the Foxes would wear and why:

Aaron, for obvious reasons. Nicky have it to him and he wears it in secret. It's his comfort pajamas.

Renee gave this to Andrew and he wore it one (1) time and it was at an exy banquet while wild and fervent protests about his past were all over.

Any of them, really, but I imagine a three way tie between Wymack (not paid enough for this), Alison (she gives the vibe), and Dan (when anyone talks to her that she doesn't know)

Matt vibes. Dan defffffffinitely pegs that man. He thanks her.

Andrew. Renee gave him this one, too, but it's a common sight.

Aaron. Maybe Katelyn got this for him as a joke and he wears it as some pathetic, wet cat, Minyard way of processing love. They got engaged the same day. It becomes Aaron's lucky shirt.

This is either Nicky or Allison's. I feel like Nicky would wear it ironically, but it could also be one of those lesbian things for Alison

Aaron. Neil gets it for him and it's how they start to bond.

Kevin, little history bitch

Bee. The team gets it for her for her birthday. She wears it religiously every Friday.

Hear me out: Kevin. It starts as a joke because he's the only single fox (in a world where he and Thea aren't together, I'm not particularly fond of that ship), but then he wears it on a date because he's a dumbass at heart and forgot that the team would totally fuck with his closet and he managed to charm and bag the sexiest, most emotionally intelligent woman ever. They last for two years before Kevin finally realized he's gay, but they stay friends and laugh over everything.

Dan. She gives mad homebody vibes outside of exy.

Neil. Self explanatory.

Matt. He's such a wife guy, and honestly, good for him. I know that I would 100% let Danielle Wilds do whatever the hell she decided was best for me. Oh my shit.

Renee. This was from Andrew, as revenge for the other shirts. She treasures it, but only wears it on his birthday.

Alison and Neil buy it for the twins. I'm a strong advocate for bitchy friends. Love that for them

They only manage to evade death via Neil's survival skills, a pair of strappy heels, a spoon, and a small frog. Don't ask.

Matt and Nicky unironically share this shirt.

It was originally Matt's, but Dan claimed it as hers, and now he just sorts it into her clothes pile when it's his turn.

Wymack. I think Kevin would rather die than get this, so Dan (his adoptive sister), Alison (nosy bitch #1), and Neil (nosy bitch #2) tag team and sign his name for him. He goes on to have a mental breakdown, but he and Wymack get closer. Somehow it's revealed that Nicky wins the bet regarding what's going on between Wymack, Abby, and Bee.

Andrew bought this for Kevin.

Alison and Renee have matching shirts exactly like this. In response, Neil and Andrew have matching shirts that say "I like it bushy" with a cat in a bush. It's the first time the upperclassmen see Andrew smile like that without involving Neil.

This is what inspired this, actually. So, Neil. He'd wear this out and in press conferences just to piss Kevin off. Gives Andrew a heart attack every time he sees it, though he'll never admit it. No one's really sure how or where it came from, there's actually a betting pool regarding this. Alison has money on Andrew buying it. Nicky thinks it was Kevin. Renee even joined in by offering Neil.

(in reality, it was Abby. She thinks shit like this is funny. She's a fox, after all)

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 1

word count: 2.3k

"Alright, just keep that wrapped for two days, come back if anything happens."

The rolling of the wheels from the artist's stool echoed through the tattoo shop, blending with the buzz of tattoo guns that hummed like restless bees. The air smelled of antiseptic, ink, and faint traces of burnt coffee from the pot someone had forgotten to turn off hours ago. Overhead, the muted bass of a playlist filtered through the JBL speakers mounted in each corner, punctuated occasionally by laughter and chatter between clients and artists. The ambiance was a chaotic symphony that Harry had long since learned to tune out.

Harry peeled the black nitrile gloves from his large hands with practiced precision, the snap of the material barely audible over the noise. He rolled them into a ball and tossed them into the trash, landing the shot effortlessly. His gaze flicked toward the apprentice, a wiry kid with a head full of bleached hair, leaning against the counter scrolling his phone.

"Ni, clean the station f'me. I'll be back soon." His deep voice cut through the din without needing to rise above it.

The apprentice straightened up, muttering something about being a glorified janitor as Harry gave the chair he'd been working on a nudge with his boot, spinning it back into place. Without another word, Harry strode toward the sink, his boots hitting the tile floor in a deliberate rhythm. He let the water run cold before scrubbing his hands, chasing away the slick latex residue.

His reflection in the mirror above the sink was familiar but worn—sharp jawline framed by the untamed curls that hung loosely around his face, the strands darkened slightly with sweat from the hours spent leaning over intricate linework. He rubbed at his temples briefly before shaking it off.

Making his way to the back office, Harry pushed open the door, the hinges creaking softly in protest. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, muffling the noise of the shop to a dull roar. The office was modest, functional, and distinctly his. The centerpiece was a battered brown leather sofa that sagged in the middle, where he now sank down with a groan. Papers, receipts, and appointment schedules spilled across the coffee table in organized chaos, the remnants of his latest battle with the bureaucracy of running a business.

Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a dark green bandana, shaking it out before tying it around his head with a double knot. It was one of many he kept stashed in his bag, a small but vital part of his routine to keep his unruly curls out of his face. His hands fell into his lap for a moment, and a long, tired sigh slipped past his lips, echoing softly in the quiet room.

It had been one hell of a week. Four nights in a row staying late to fix problems that shouldn't have existed in the first place. Lease renewals that felt endless, payroll corrections that had him cursing under his breath, and a scheduling disaster courtesy of Zayn.

Zayn, with his smooth charm and infuriating nonchalance, had somehow managed to book clients on top of each other during the week Harry had taken off to recover from a nasty head cold. Zayn claimed innocence, of course, insisting it was a system error or that Niall had gotten confused while updating the calendar. Harry wasn't buying it. Now the mess had landed squarely on his shoulders—because that's what being the owner of Black Rose Studios meant.

His green eyes scanned the pile of paperwork on the table, mentally categorizing it into priorities. At least this was the last stack for now. The rest could wait until Monday morning. Out in the shop, the low hum of voices filtered through the walls. He could hear Zayn's distinctive laugh cutting through the chatter, no doubt schmoozing some poor client or persuading Niall to cover for him again.

Harry had told them to finish up with the last three appointments for the night. Naturally, they'd whined about it, angling for an early out to make it to Zayn's party. A party Zayn had been hyping all week, complete with endless mentions of Isobel's new roommate—someone Zayn seemed convinced Harry needed to meet.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, pen in hand as he began scrawling his signature on a stack of lease agreements. The repetitive motion of signing his initials—HS, HS, HS—offered a small reprieve from the chaos.

Knock, knock.

The sharp raps at the door didn't slow him. He flipped a page and continued signing, barely glancing up. "Yeah?"

The sound of a chip bag crinkling made his jaw tighten. A second later, the telltale pop of the bag opening reached his ears, followed by the unmistakable cascade of crumbs hitting the floor.

"You should really come tonight, man." Zayn's voice was muffled as he spoke around a mouthful of chips. The door creaked open, and without waiting for an invitation, Zayn sauntered in and flopped down beside Harry on the sagging sofa.

"Didn't I leave you with clients?" Harry muttered, his pen not pausing for a second.

Zayn shrugged nonchalantly, the rustle of his leather jacket loud in the small space. "Niall's got it. They're fine." He waved a hand as if to dismiss the idea of responsibility entirely, reaching into the chip bag for another handful.

Harry finally looked up, shooting him a withering glare. "You're supposed to be working, not shoving crisps down your throat in my office."

Zayn smirked, unfazed. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here all week. You need to get out. Isobel's bringing her new roommate tonight— she's—"

"No," Harry cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Zayn sighed dramatically but pressed on, his brown eyes gleaming with mischief. "Her name's Aspen, and she's not stuck up. She's just... quiet. But in a cute way, y'know? Like, mysterious."

Harry scoffed, setting his pen down with a snap. "Yeah, no thanks. I'm not interested in some preppy girl with rich parents and a superiority complex."

Zayn rolled his eyes. "You don't even know her. And for the record, she's not preppy. She's cool. Just... Come out, man. When's the last time you let loose?"

Harry didn't respond immediately, his mind flicking back to the last party he attended—Louis' place, over the summer. That felt like a lifetime ago now. The thought of alcohol and music made him feel... tired. Still, Zayn's relentless nagging was wearing him down.

"Fine," he said at last, stuffing the paperwork into a folder and slapping a sticky note on top. "But if she's annoying, I'm leaving."

Zayn grinned triumphantly, crumbs scattering onto the couch as he stood up. "You won't regret it."

As he left, Harry glanced at the discarded chip bag on the table. With a muttered curse, he crumpled it and tossed it into the trash, shouting after Zayn, "Clean up after yourself next time!"

The muffled sound of Zayn's laughter was his only reply.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Aspen tugged the brush through her hair, wincing as it snagged on a stubborn curl. The faint scent of lavender conditioner lingered, a remnant from her earlier shower, mixing with the vanilla candle Isobel had lit hours ago in their small on-campus apartment. The gentle flicker of the candlelight reflected in the bathroom mirror, softening the sharp angles of Aspen's face as she worked her way through the tangled strands.

Her class had let out early that afternoon, an unexpected reprieve that she'd intended to spend buried in a book or curled up in bed with her favorite playlist humming through her headphones. But Isobel had other plans. Aspen's roommate had appeared in the doorway of her room with a pleading expression, hands clasped dramatically in front of her.

"You have to come with me tonight, Asp. Please. Zayn's throwing a party— it's lowkey, I swear!"

The term had finally come to an end-- her final exams all submitted and completed and she hated to sound cocky but she new she passed for sure. Her current GPA of a perfect 4.0 remained untouched for as long as she could remember. It was never a bribing point for her, though. Her grades were only so good because she had nothing to distract herself with. Parties never excited her and the boys she found interest in, she would never do anything about. And she surely was never approached by any of them either. Although she was sure that if she had been, she would be too shy to do anything anyways.

Aspen had protested at first, of course. She always did. Parties were foreign territory, a world she'd deliberately avoided ever since starting college. Growing up, she had made a silent pact with herself— and her parents— that she would stay focused. No distractions. No wild nights that might lead to messy mornings. It wasn't like she judged people who partied; it just wasn't her scene. 

But Isobel's persistence was as predictable as it was relentless. And now here she was, smoothing down her freshly brushed curls, her reflection in the mirror staring back at her with a mixture of resignation and anxiety.

"It's just a get-together, right?" Aspen asked, her voice tentative as she glanced at Isobel's reflection beside her.

Isobel's silence was answer enough.

"Iz..." Aspen turned slowly, setting the brush down with an exasperated sigh.

"Yes! Yes, okay, it's just a small get-together," Isobel said quickly, her words tumbling over one another in her rush to reassure. "It's just Zayn, a few of his friends from the shop, and maybe a couple others. Nothing crazy. No keg stands, no beer pong, nothing like that." She paused, gauging Aspen's reaction before adding, "And you don't have to drink! I already told Zayn to have soda and juice out."

Aspen wrinkled her nose. "Juice? Seriously? Iz, I'm not five."

Isobel snorted, pointing at her with the end of her eyeshadow brush. "Okay, but the mere mention of alcohol makes you do that weird cringy thing with your face, so maybe juice is a good option."

As if on cue, Aspen cringed again, her nose scrunching involuntarily. She turned back to the mirror, muttering under her breath as she picked up her blush brush.

Makeup had never been a big part of Aspen's routine, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction of it. There was something oddly soothing about the soft swirls of powder on her cheeks or the precise swipe of mascara on her lashes. Tonight, however, she was feeling daring—or as daring as Aspen could feel. She picked up a black liquid liner, carefully dragging the felt tip along the edge of her eyelid.

The result wasn't perfect, but it wasn't terrible either. She stepped back to admire her handiwork just as Isobel appeared behind her, clapping her hands in delight.

"Oh my God! Aspen, you look amazing! That wing is perfect— I mean, it's practically professional."

Aspen blushed under the praise, ducking her head slightly. "It's not that great," she murmured, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Her mood, however, soured slightly as her mind wandered about who would be there, the thought of someone new being at the party. Aspen had met Zayn before— he was charming in that effortless, slightly intimidating way—but the idea of meeting more of his friends made her stomach churn. She had heard bits and pieces about them: Niall, who apparently had the sense of humor of a stand-up comedian; Louis, a former coworker of Zayn's with a penchant for mischief. And then there was Harry.

The mere thought of Harry sent a jolt of nervous energy through her. Tattoos. Piercings. Owner of a tattoo shop. She could already feel the intimidating aura he would inevitably exude. Aspen had never been good at talking to guys, especially not ones like that.

She would be doomed if she even tried to squeak a word to him. Isobel of course played into the playful banter earlier when she was begging for Aspen to come. 

"I'm not talking to him," she said firmly, more to herself than to Isobel.

Isobel, rummaging through her closet in search of the perfect outfit, barely glanced over her shoulder. "What was that?"

"I said I'm not talking to him," Aspen repeated, louder this time. "I'll go to the party, but I'm not—no way. Not happening."

Isobel smirked, tossing a shirt over her shoulder. "Who said you have to talk to him? Maybe he'll think you're hot and talk to you."

Aspen gasped, her face heating up. "God, no! Shut up!"

Isobel only laughed, her amusement growing when one of her discarded shirts landed squarely on Aspen's face. Aspen pulled it off with a huff, shaking her head as she returned to the bathroom.

By the time she finished her makeup and spritzed herself with her favorite cherry vanilla perfume, the nervous knot in her stomach had only grown tighter. She stepped back to examine her outfit in the mirror: a deep red ribbed long-sleeve top with a square neckline that hugged her frame, paired with a justtt long enough denim skirt and sheer black tights. Her boots added a bit of edge to the otherwise sweet ensemble, and the white satin bow in her hair tied it all together in it's half up-half down style. On her neck, a beautiful 'A' necklace that Isobel got her after their first year of living together and her ears had small silver hoops in them. 

She tugged at the hem of her skirt nervously, turning to Isobel. "Is it too much?"

Isobel turned to look, her eyes widening in mock awe. "You look incredible, Aspen. Seriously. If you don't get at least ten compliments tonight, I'll be shocked."

Aspen laughed despite herself, grabbing a leather jacket from Isobel's closet. The coat was heavier than she needed, but it gave her a sense of security. She slung it into the crook of her arm as they headed out the door. Zayn didn't live too far from them, but Isobel insisted on taking an Uber because she wanted to dress up and it certainly didn't fit the weather outside.

The Uber ride was short but felt interminable. Aspen stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, her hands fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket. Her nerves buzzed like static, but she told herself this was for Isobel. Just one night. She could survive one night.

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be as bad as she feared.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Burn Bright White - Chapter Nine.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,362

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don’t like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn’t tolerated here. At all. Remember, it’s fiction, not a documentary ;) It’s also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

They fell into it with ease, four months on from first meeting, a certain degree of comfort neither had truly been expecting. It was nowhere near contented domesticity, but still, it was something more. Both remained adamant that it wasn’t anything other than casual, however, their tactics still continually executed as if their relationship was a game of chess.  

Neither wanted to admit what it was slowly becoming. 

“It’s me. Fuck, what a motherfucking night!”  

Niklas was settled in his lounge, Bjorn seated adjacent at the other end of the L shaped sofa, both steadily working their way through a lot of beer the latter had brought with him. He wasn’t in the mood to go out, going through a down phase in his struggles with bipolar disorder, Bjorn having to talk him into being social at all.  

He reminded him of course, if he did things, even little ones as a few beers with his friend, he could usually offset the depressive shift to a degree. Niklas had to concede that he was quite right, so had invited him over. 

Entering the lounge, Taissa greeted Bjorn with a kiss upon his head as she kicked off her shoes. He then got a surprise in seeing her yank off her ridiculously tight jeans, unable to stop himself checking out her ass. The dark look it earned from Niklas made him snort laugh. He was, as ever, a possessive creature. 

She didn’t stop there, unclipping her bra from beneath the long, t shirt style top she wore, flinging it across the lounge with a happy sigh before moving to seat herself in Niklas’s lap. A nearby Katze growled at her, as she always did, the cat not particularly fond of the new female presence in her person’s life.  

“Feel free to make yourself comfortable, Tai.”  

“Thank you, I will.”  

Sarcasm aside, he picked up one of the bottles of cider Bjorn had brought with him for her, unscrewing the cap and handing it to her. “Why was it, as you say, a motherfucking night, then?” 

“Where to start!” she exclaimed, raising her hand in exclamation, dropping it into her lap. “I was so busy that I ran out twice, had to head home and weigh and bag with Heinrik, who I never like having in my apartment because he is a clumsy oaf.  

“The second time we ran out, we went to Miika’s place, where Carla fucking stupidly ate something that had trace elements of nuts in. Because my brother is panicking and losing his head, I had to stab her thigh with an Epi Pen and then take her to hospital, before she went into full-blown anaphylaxis.” 

“I have that with bees,” he nodded. 

“He got stung one time and had no fucking Epi Pen, so I had to get a whole packet of antihistamines into him while he’s drunk and angry as hell, covered in hives with his tongue starting to swell. It was a fun afternoon,” Bjorn snorted sardonically, remembering it well.  

“A mental note has been made,” she replied, grinning. “If you ever piss me off enough, the bees will be my minions.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Your evil streak is as fantastic as ever.” 

“Anyway, we get to hospital and despite the Epi Pen, she’s fucking blowing up like a balloon, can’t breathe, wheezing, rash all over her face, so it must have been out of date or something,” she continued. 

“Unless you did it incorrectly,” Niklas offered, trying at least to bite back the mischievous smirk. “But that would mean admitting you are wrong.” 

She leaned to him, her nose pressing against his. “I am never wrong.” 

He began to shake with laughter. “You are.” It was too entertaining, provoking a reaction from his little beast. 

“Look at you, talking like a man who wants to jeopardise having his face stood on again,” she teased, of course knowing Niklas would instantly remember what else she was doing to him at the time. Bjorn, however, remained in the dark. 

"Why would you stand on his face?” 

Turning to him, she sipped her cider, her grin growing. “How else am I to make him deep throat the heel of my shoe while I pee on his chest in a bathtub?” 

What she was met with was perhaps the greatest array of facial expressions, from slightly aghast, to thoughtful, to entertained in the space of ten seconds.  

Her amusement was clear, pointing at him. “That is a full-on attack of the face, Bjorn.” 

Truly, she wasn’t wrong, Niklas shaking with laughter at his friend, Bjorn floundering for a moment. “I, um... I... don’t know whether to be aroused or offended at hearing that. I really don’t.” 

“You haven’t lived until you’ve had a hot girl piss on you, brother,” Niklas offered, Bjorn still trying to process the information. 

“Nah, I’m not into that, but you go ahead, man,” he began, pointing then to Taissa questioningly. “How did you manage to wear heels in a bathtub without falling over, though?” 

“I have a big tub,” she shrugged. 

“Okay, that answers my question.” He sipped a beer before lighting himself a cigarette, side eyeing her curiously. “I feel a little violated for knowing this, though. Or like you should be charging me for hearing it.”  

His words had them both in soft fits, Bjorn shaking his head. He was used to his friend and his varying degrees of sexual depravity by that point, though, Taissa continuing with her story regarding Carla and her allergic reaction. As she spoke, he noticed it very clearly, how content his friend looked. He didn’t often witness that within him.  

He had wondered how healthy it would be for him, to effectively be dating someone who seemed to be his female equivalent, a drug dealing one at that, but there was a calmness to him that couldn’t be ignored. He looked much happier for simply having her near on that evening, for example, coming out of himself a little more. 

That wasn’t to say, however, that such a fear over her suitability shouldn’t have been discounted, though. 

A few days later, after a night of cocaine bingeing and heated sex, Niklas lay awake next to a sleeping Taissa, unable to fall asleep. He knew why, too. He’d stayed an extra night and didn’t have his medication on him, feeling it creeping through his brain before it arrived.  

Blinking a few times, he focused with a slight start, seeing them there. During schizophrenic blackouts, when he began to hallucinate, there were always two dark shadows who turned up without fail, haunting him, creeping closer to where he lay. 

“They aren’t there. They are not really there.” he repeated in whisper, closing his eyes. He felt his leg tapped, so real, unable to ignore it. Opening his eyes again, he saw one beginning to morph.  

“Nothing you ever do is good enough. This is why you are so sick. I always told you, didn’t I? You keep making it worse for yourself, don’t you?”  

Of course, his mother was not truly there, but fuck, the reality of it. It still frightened him, just how vividly his brain could hallucinate mere figments into appearing before him.  

“Niklas, listen to me!” 

Screwing his eyes even tighter shut, he raised the covers over his head, turning onto his side. If only he could fall asleep, the hallucinations would cease to haunt him until he could get home and take a necessary dose. It had been stupid of him to think he would be fine without it, when he very much wasn’t.  

“Niklas, stop ignoring me.” 

“Fuck off,” he muttered. “You are dead. You are not here.”  

The covers moved, and there she was beside him. “Stop ignoring me, my son. You must listen to me! I tell you all of this only for your own good.” 

“No. You are not here.” 

“I am, and you will listen! Niklas!” 

Grabbing a pillow, he stuffed his face into it, reminding himself over and over that it was only his brain playing tricks. He knew it wasn’t real, of course he did, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle. 

“Niklas.” 

“Niklas!” 

Feeling a hand shaking him, he shrugged it off, swiping his arm to remove it.  

“Niklas!” 

His hearing began to become afflicted, his mother’s voice sounding like a slowed down droning, as if someone had recorded it and played it back at less than half speed. 

“Niklas.” 

The voice that reached him then wasn’t Suzanne’s, the tone dulcet, Finnish. “Niklas, open your eyes. I think you’re dreaming.” Emerging from the pillow, he felt his insides unclench, Taissa stroking his face as she looked down at him. “Are you okay?” 

“No. I need to go home and get my meds. Not dreams. Fucking psychosis. Hallucinations.” 

She nodded calmly, pushing the covers back. “I will take you.” 

Leaving the bed as well, he shook his head, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on, his jeans following. “I’ll get an Uber. If I have a meltdown in the car, I do not want you to crash.”  

The Uber driver was fair game, though, apparently. Not that Taissa cared much. “I’m still coming with you, in case you become unmanageable.” 

He scoffed darkly, pulling his t shirt on. “There isn’t much you will be able to do, if that happens.” 

She was thoughtful for a few minutes, pondering a way around it. “Unless I tranquilise you? Can you take Valium on your meds without, you know, dying or anything?” She had those illegal prescription items in abundance, after all. 

Picking up his phone, he quickly consulted Google, blinking and once again seeing the black shadows returned, hovering around above the bed. “Yes, I can.” 

She nodded, pulling on her sweats, locating a small, cropped top from her drawer, foregoing underwear. A long, thick cardigan was then added, the usual cold hitting Finland now December had arrived, Taissa pulling on socks and jamming her feet into her Ugg boots. “I’ll grind a couple up and you can snort them, means they’ll kick in faster.”  

Her calm pragmatism was exactly what he needed, Niklas feeling fortunate for having her there as he followed her over to the lounge area, Taissa moving to her stash and locating the drugs. With two tablets quickly crushed beneath a spoon and chopped finely with a razorblade, he snorted them rapidly, leaving the apartment with her shortly afterwards. 

The groggy feeling hit him on the way down to the parking garage in the elevator, swaying a little, Taissa having to steer him to her car. Even though he was almost out of it, she still confined him to the back seats, clipping a belt around him. While she drove, he fought to try and stay awake, knowing she’d struggle to get him up to his apartment if he succumbed to the stupor of the medication. 

His eyelids fluttered, seeing the two black shadows returned. One loomed over him, its completely white eyes blinking rapidly as it peered at him, those eyes narrowing as he heard it begin to cackle. The other sat beside Taissa in the front, its long, spindly fingers making a motion to grasp her neck and throttle her, Niklas lashing out, his fist meeting air and then the passenger seat. 

“Don’t... don’t you fucking touch her.” He knew there was nothing there, but it was so, so real.  

Taissa accelerated the car forwards, reaching back to grasp his hand. “Shhh, Niklas. There isn’t anything here. It isn’t real, you’re okay. It’s just you and me.” 

Gladly, the journey to his place took less time than usual, being that it was 3:36am and the streets were all quiet, Taissa having to heave him from the car and partially carry him. 

“Sorry. I am trying not to fall asleep,” he spoke, shaking himself, slapping his face hard in an effort to hang onto his consciousness.  

“Don’t fight it. We’re almost there.” It was a struggle nonetheless, just about making it to his front door with his weight slumped against her, taking his keys to let them in. She deposited him onto the bed, Niklas just about coherent enough to take out the correct number of pills, dry swallowing them. At least when he woke up, they’d be gone, the shadows right there in the bedroom doorway.  

“Shall I leave you to sleep?” she asked.  

Fighting his clothes from his body, he didn’t reply until he was beneath the covers, woozier than he could remember feeling in a long time. “Stay, but only if you want to. I don’t expect it.” 

Slipping her clothes off, she climbed in beside him, allowing him to wrap himself around her. Cuddling up in bed wasn’t part of what they had, but she knew it was necessary to play along. Caring and dutiful, looking after him, it would all go further to earning his trust. 

She could feel it, his guard lowering, knowing he was falling. He wasn’t investing in nearly as many manipulation tactics as he once had with her, she could tell clearly. Feigning care was easy for her, her sociopathy meaning that of course, she did not connect emotionally to him, or the moment. She wasn’t capable. Or, so she thought. 

Yes. She had him exactly where she wanted him, pushing down the growing, gnawing realisation that beside him was the very place she truly wanted to be, too. Seeing him as a good-looking fuck toy? She could do that. Seeing him as anything more? Absolutely not. 

“I’m glad you are here.”  

That was the last thing he said before he was out like a light. His apartment was cold, the temperature well below zero outside, Taissa turning to throw a leg over his hip and snuggle deep against his chest. Warmth felt good. And that was what she told herself, again and again, her brain in overdrive before she finally fell asleep twenty minutes after him.  

Untangling herself seven hours later, Niklas slept on as she left the bedroom, going to make herself a slice of toast and feed Katze. As usual, the small, black feline hissed at her, trundling over to the bowl regardless, though. 

“I can’t hide if from you, can I?”  

Niklas merely assumed her to be jealous of Taissa and nothing more. One should, though, always pay attention to the reaction of animals. They seldom ever tended to be incorrect. Reading her phone idly while eating her toast, she made herself a coffee, sitting up on the counter, hearing Katze meow in greeting before Niklas walked into the kitchen. 

Picking her up, he rubbed her ears, the feline turning to view Taissa with a disgruntled growl. “You have to stop this venom,” he instructed, pointing to where she sat. “That woman there, she takes care of me. Only fucking one I can think of for years who actually has.”  

Kissing her soft head, he let her leap to the floor, the cat making her way back to the lounge while he moved to Taissa, enveloping her in a hug. “Thank you for doing just that. You were exactly what I needed, someone to keep completely calm and handle it.”  

She wrapped her arms around him, fingers stroking swirls over his wide back, kissing his chest a couple of times. “Remember, meds come with you next time. Maybe lessen your coke intake a little, too? I’ve noticed that sometimes sets you off a bit. Not into hallucinatory meltdown, but you change.” 

Lifting his chin, he raised his eyebrows. “Great, I have to lose the number one perk of dating you?” 

“I thought the number one perk was because I let you put it up my ass?”  

He really enjoyed that about her, that deprecating humour was met with nothing but a whip-quick comeback. “That too.” Releasing her from his arms, his hands moved to stroke her hips, grasping her sweats, giving the side of her ass a pat. “Up.”  

Pushing her hands to the counter, she lifted herself, her sweats pulled off, her eyebrow raised curiously. “What are you doing?” 

“You know exactly what I’m doing,” he spoke, crouching before her. “I’m hungry.”  

That was exactly how he ate her, too, hungrily, fervently and without pause until she was soaked and desperate for his cock. He carried her back to the bedroom for that, lying her on the bed, arrowing into her slick plush with a faint groan, his body falling to cover hers. 

His moan was thick and rich as pulled back, sinking into her deeper, mouth closing around her nipple and sucking. The warm clutch of her had constellations exploding behind his closed eyelids, aqueous heaven wrapped around him in a hot grip.   

He rained down kisses over her chest, Taissa feeling the pleasure prickling at her like hail. She felt weak and brittle from the weight of him atop her, the power of him driving into where she was most soft and delicate, churning her insides into a glimmering mess. Pleasure streaked through her like a hail of comets, Niklas falling into a rhythm that had her gasping, her soaking centre split so wide around him, bathing him in the gloss of her arousal.   

It was a sight that had him utterly transfixed after he’d sat back on his heels, watching her breasts heave, the velvet grasp of her cunt around him utterly divine. She tried to ground herself by gripping the bed covers below her, yet the relentless spearing of her insides had her completely unmoored, adrift on the sea of pleasure that was him, lost, and not willing to be found. Her nails clutched at his shoulders, dragging down, the pain of it sending him deeper into her as his mouth found hers, kissing her with dirty heat.  

“Get on your back,” she instructed, watching him raise an eyebrow inquiringly as he slowed his rapacious pace.   

“She’s demanding.” 

“I am, we both know this. Now, do as you’re told. Just for once.” 

His eyebrow only rose higher, and they both laughed softly, something slipping out of place with them. Or was it into place, Niklas stroking her cheeks with his thumbs as he gazed upon her before turning. “Fine.”  

Moving astride his hips, she guided him to her heat, enveloping him, anything else he might have chosen to say washed away from his brain, groaning faintly as he shuddered. She clenched around him until she drew expletives from him, the rhythm she set slow and rolling, his fingers digging into her. His cock dragged her walls sumptuously, Taissa teasing his chest with the stroke of her nails, grinding down a little heavier upon him, desperate for more pressure. 

“Fuck, best cock in the motherfucking world.” She breathed, leaning to him, capturing his lips in a hot, syrupy kiss, his fingers digging in harder, a sharp snap of his hips deepening their join, her moan tumbling from her mouth to his. Pushing herself back up, she studied him carefully, watched him losing himself to her.   

Each keen undulation caused him to feel sparks flickering his spine, while she had her own bliss pulsing softly, increasing more the faster she moved. He pushed his thumb to her clit and rubbed, her slick little bud twitching at his touch. A string of panted expletives left her mouth as she felt herself reach boiling point, bubbling up and over and taking him with him to a gloriously sweet climatic finish, intensity throbbing through them and leaving them both a sweaty, shuddering wreck.   

Looking up at her, he couldn’t explain it, nor did he want to realise it, why on that morning, there was a tenderness, a gentleness there that hadn’t ever existed between them before. Taissa saw it, too, felt it winding through her, noticed the way the usual ice of his stare had melted just a touch. Enough to let that rarely seen warmth beam right into her, his arms encircling her as she lay against his chest. 

They couldn’t have hated themselves more for it, either.  

This? This was not in their respective plans.  

[altschmerzes]

THE 13 BOOKS I READ IN 2023 IN ORDER FROM BEST TO WORST + THE PROTAGONIST'S SUPERLATIVE. PART 1.

NOTE: this ranking is entirely based on how much i enjoyed the thing and not necessarily on anything quantifiable or concrete. except for 1 and 12 those are just i think empirically true. also, this got very very hard between 2-8 and i enjoyed everything above 10 like, immensely. that said:

1. The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. fucking gorgeous book. the writing was incredible, it made me feel like i needed to write right now right now right now or i was going to die and also why would i ever write again when i didn't write this. made me REEL several times and need to put it down and process it. i need to read it again and again. so much in there about the structure of story and fairytales and roles within a story and just. augh. man. i have at least a thousand words worth of highlights of quotes that make me completely insane. i want to write a dissertation on the interactions of amalthea and lír.

Protagonist: Amalthea/The Unicorn. Best Gender Moments And Unmatched Aro Vibes.

2. Blackcurrant Fool by Victoria Goddard. someone designed these books in a lab just to kill specifically me. i'm so thrilled i'm like, mad about it. this is book four in the series and included some MASSIVELY fun payoffs for some background references and foreshadowing that had been building for a while. some of my favourite tropes on this here earth are contained in this book and they make me insane in their execution. beloved. i kept having to put my face in my hands and shriek. like. literally. i liveblogged the last like ~30% of the book to several people. in detail.

Protagonist: Jemis Greenwing. Most Likely To Respond To A Given Situation With Both The Most Sincerely Heartfelt And Most Dramatic Option Possible And Then Insist That This Was The Obvious And Logical Thing To Do.

3. Bee Sting Cake by Victoria Goddard. some really excellent introductions to characters and concepts in here. did a good job as the second book in the series to continue keeping things interesting while maintaining and expanding on what was good about the first one, introducing new elements and making them play well with the established dynamics and situation. some really fun exploration of 'what if your two favourite people met each other and how would that go'. some delightful stuff about bees also which gets me in my feelings and the pov character has a good cry a couple times which he damn well deserves at this point.

Protagonist: (since there are two, i'm alternating for this series' superlatives) Peregrine Dart. Best At Being Totally And Completely Fine (Lying).

4. Stargazy Pie by Victoria Goddard. YES. I LIKED THESE BOOKS A LOT OKAY. THREE OF THEM IN A ROW. WHAT OF IT. very fun introduction to a series, it was a great first book. it delivered its worldbuilding in my favourite way for a fantasy series to do so, which is to just sort of drop me right in and explain as we go in a naturalistic kind of way. it meant i had to accept i just didn't know what was going on several times but that was fine. excellent combo of silly and serious and the characters are just. so charming and i'm so so fond of them. also i love a really stuffy strict distant society. bc then i'm like OHO TIME TO BREAK THESE RULES!!!

Protagonist: Jemis Greenwing. Most Likely To Have Everything Happen To Him So Much And All At Once.

5. By Force Alone by Lavie Tidhar. this book would probably have been ranked higher if it weren't for all the Someone's Got Their Dick Out. which is fine, go for it, but it felt like all the like. someone is getting their guts stabbed out and someone else is fuckin every other page is mostly a thematic thing that is supposed to drive home how gritty and grimy the narrative is. which y'know. not my bag. i like a gritty and grimy narrative but dude we know. that said it was extremely fun except for that, and i liked the way the characters were described a lot. they were not good people and it was deliberate and compelling. it was a lot to process all at once and i wish i'd slowed down with it - the last fourth of the book particularly hit me like a train. special shoutout to everything this book did with pelinore and the questing beast.

Protagonist: Arthur Pendragon. Most Doomed By The Narrative.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

hi! I loved the crow anon story thing so much it was so great! I was wondering if it was possible if you could do one with like a Honduran bat hybrid reader (magic choice up to you but I thought potion magic would be cute) who overworks themselves a lot and the platonic yans are like ‘>:0’

Aaaawwwww! Honduran bats are so cute!!! I'll see what we can cook up! And potions, yes! May I call you Bat Anon? Let's do it like this:

• You tended to be a busy bee (well, bat). Always cooking up a new potion, picking out ingredients and charms, writing instructions and symptoms for each one, selling the latest in helpful potions and magical ones, such as ones for mental wellness, emotional-filling, and mini good-lucks and warm-feelings, along with fairy-wings and plant-growing and rain-making and so many, many more... It kept your hands and wings busy all night and all day long, overworking your wings and hands trying to make enough!

• Your newest patrons were animal hybrids. Ones who were always asking which ingredients you used and buying any potions that caught their eye. They always complimented you and your craft, and happily told you where to find the best ingredients and which vendors were nice. They always payed well, leaving tips, too. And with the sudden increase in customers and demand of your wares, you had to work extra hours just to keep up with the demands...

• By the next month, you're exhausted. Only two or three hours a sleep per day/night, drinking enough caffeine-filled beverages to wake up a snoozing dragon, and underweight due to neglecting to eat, all in the name of keeping your business running and ahead of the competition. You've almost fallen asleep on customers a few times, only to chug a potion that happened to be a mix of coffee, adrenaline, and lightning, to keep yourself awake. Your newest friends, those odd patrons of yours, took offense to that.

• The moment you tell then how you've been able to keep your small store stocked and the customers happy and with their potions, you're met with hands dragging you to the back and pushing you onto the nearest sofa or chair or bean bag. Next thing you know, heavily-scented tea is shoved into your hands, and you're ordered to drink every last drop. Any protest is met with a firm no, and you're told theyll handle your store when you need to rest. Starting now.

• The moment the tea hits your tongue, you're relaxing into the plush surface beneath you, sighing contentedly. A warm mix of lavender, honey, and caramel fills your tastebuds, and you quickly down the rest of the cup. Once you finished, a wave of calm, relaxed sleepiness tugs at you, then you're lying down, snuggled under a blanket that had been tucked around you. The background noise of clinking bottles and stirring liquids send you off into a fuzzy slumber, for once your body and mind getting the rest it needs since you opened up shop...

• The platonic yans keep the shop afloat, those who excel at potions mixing up the ones that were written down on a list, while those who are able to refill samples and clean up do so. They care about their little baby bat, and they shouldn't have to run themself into the ground just to please others and to keep themself in business. So they'll help as much as Reader needs, all while making sure they rest and eat and take breaks. If they have to set a day where their shop stays closed, so be it. Their little bat bud needs rest and relaxation, which they'll happily supply them with!

• If any rude customers or bigots try to start something or insist to speak speak Reader or try to break anything, the adults will happily deal with them (setting Wolverine and/or Sabretooth and/or even Erik on them). The teens can keep the shop tidy and make sure Reader gets their scheduled sleep, as well as takes any tea they make them and eats their meals. And if Reader is a little cold, no worries. They can happily volunteer one of themselves to cuddle with them while they rest...

• The platonic yanderes all care about Reader, and while they love their potions, they'll make sure Reader is well-rested and fed and feeling well before they let them go back to making them. And if they maybe start to offer to work with Reader, or join their businesses together (or maybe slip them into their coven by "accident"), well... Whatever helps keep them warm and and feeling well, right?

[a-lonely-dragon]

Strike! - Chapter 2

Montgomery Gator x F!Reader

CW: mentions of gross food and a small amount of blood

AO3

Navigation: Chapter 1

The following week passes much like molasses, with each day a new slog of navigating the course and its back hallways while trying to keep up with Rodney’s demands and hellish lists.

At the very least, you’re grateful you haven’t come face to face with one Montgomery Gator. While you find it strange that the attraction’s mascot doesn’t seem to have many scheduled appearances, you can’t help but feel relief that you haven’t had to navigate those turbulent waters just yet.

Instead, you’re able to fully focus on your oh-so-important tasks to keep the mini golf course running smoothly. Or, well, running at the very least.

The man-made stream gurgles along beside you, the partially submerged alligator heads lunging up to hiss and grumble and spray you with tepid water (you do your best to keep your mouth firmly shut).

 Kneeling on the rough carpet, skimmer in hand, you swipe at the stream’s surface, earning three neon golf balls and a chunky, waterlogged fried slice of pizza, the worst prizes to a terrible carnival game. The golf balls go into a plastic tub, clanking against dozens of others. The pizza crumbles in your gloved hands as you scrape it out of the netting and you gag at the revolting stench of rotting fish that punches you straight in the face. Anchovies. Of course, you think. It isn’t the first time you’ve dredged up nasty pizza in this building, but boy do you never get used to the smell.

It lingers even after you’ve tossed it into the garbage bag behind you, and a line Bonnie loved to use comes to mind.

“You look like you want to give someone a pizza your mind!”

Your lips twitch despite yourself, but the amusement is fleeting in the face of the monumental task ahead of you. Rodney wanted the entire course cleaned tonight, and so here you were, scooping mounds of discarded food, merch, and equipment from every nook and cranny, inch by painful inch.

For once, you found yourself grateful for the dead-eyed STAFF bots pattering about. They bumble about like dutiful worker bees, vacuuming, sweeping, mopping, and wiping down the surfaces they could reach. At least that only left dealing with all the garbage, water hazards, and sand traps were left to lucky, lucky you. Rodney had dipped not long after you arrived for your shift, claiming an important meeting had come up and you would be fine on your own for a while, right?

“I’ll be back to help you after the meeting,” Rodney had claimed about four hours ago.

You hadn’t held your breath, thankfully.

Sweat collects against your back as you work, the fabric of your shirt sticking uncomfortably to your skin as you work. You’re starting to slow down a bit, but you’re putting off your break until the middle of your shift. It was easier to make it through the rest of the hours that way.

And, despite your sour first impression, the Gator Golf course did hold a certain charm when it wasn’t overrun with screaming kids and parents. If you closed your eyes and plugged your nose, you might be able to pretend you were somewhere else entirely. On vacation in a bayou, maybe, dozing off as fireflies dance over the water like stars. It was actually kind of cool, all of the little designs here and there that gave the eyes a feast no matter where you look.

You catch another armful of golf balls, a Chica plush with its face details peeling from the water damage, and a novelty Roxy-talkie before you decide you move on. As you gather your tools and trash bag, an ominous groan from above stops you in your tracks.

You pause, craning your neck and straining to hear past the thumping bass and robotic noise, hoping you weren’t about to meet the catwalks in a violent and sudden way. If you stare up long enough, you can just barely make out the crisscrossing platforms above.

A heavy minute passes, in which STAFF bots roll past either unaware or uncaring of possible disasters when there’s work to be done, but when no more sounds out of the ordinary meet your ears, you shake off your worry and make for the next section of the course. Unless the ceiling actually comes down, there wouldn’t be any excuse for slacking off.

Shuffling alongside the meandering path, a flickering just above eye level catches your attention, hidden among the foliage draped over the stream.

You squint, trying to parse through the lights and fog, but it isn’t until you’re right next to a small wooden bridge that you’re able to see it fully. Just an abandoned Monty balloon, its string tangled in the vines, its grinning face swaying in the current of air being blasted from somewhere overhead. You set down everything except the pool skimmer and purse your lips, tilting your head this way and that, trying to figure out the best way to reach it.

Stepping onto the bridge, you grip the wooden railing and give it a shake. It wobbles a tiny bit, but it seems sturdy enough so you extend the pool skimmer to its longest length.

You stretch over the railing, two hands gripping the pool skimmer tightly as you bat at Monty’s shimmery snout. It bumps back and forth, mocking. With a huff, you press farther forward, the wood biting into your stomach as you swat at the vines that hold tight to the balloon’s string like a child. If you could just loosen it—

There’s a telltale creak that you don’t even have a second to register before the steadying weight of the railing gives way and your body follows, stomach swooping as you plunge forward. A yelp escapes your lips as you pinwheel your arms, the skimmer slipping from your grip as you desperately try and grab something, only managing to scrape the back of your hand against a sharp edge. You barely register a heavy whump somewhere off to your right and then you’re wrenched back by your collar like a kitten held by its scruff, and you flail a bit in protest by instinct, before being unceremoniously dropped back onto solid ground, where you land painfully on your ass.

Gasping, you press a hand to your chest as your heart tries to slow back down, but that notion is quickly recanted as you realize who had saved you from a soggy and miserable rest of the night.

Montgomery fucking Gator. The very same animatronic that’d taken Bonnie’s place.

The ambient lights give Monty a strange, otherworldly glow as he looms over you. Your gaze snags on the rows of fangs jutting from his jaws, each tooth as long as your finger, and it takes a concentrated effort to look away from them. Red optics flash from behind Bonnie’s star-shaped shades, scanning over you—and you’re suddenly aware of how the mouse must feel when faced with the cat. His silhouette is gargoyle-like, and it’s an effort to breathe normally until he leans back.

The gator stands as tall as the rest of his bandmates, but like Freddy is on the wider, bulkier side. His crimson mohawk is in slight disarray, as if it hadn’t been maintained in a while. His purple shoulder pads, which should look ridiculous, just add to his angular, intimidating appearance.

You scramble back to your feet, anxiety skyrocketing as Monty’s optics track you with a predator’s intent.

His jaw parts, and his voice comes out blanketed in irritation. “Can’t you read signs, lady?”

He points a claw over to a painted sign that reads, Please don’t lean on the railings! Your mouth pops open to defend yourself, a flush of embarrassment at the fact that no, you actually hadn’t noticed that sign the entire time you’d been here. You swallow, unable to unglue your tongue from the roof of your mouth as you stare up at this behemoth of an animatronic.

“Well?”

You cross your arms and swallow down the trepidation clogging your throat. He was just an animatronic, and despite the amount of spikes and sharp bits attached to him, he couldn’t hurt a fly. But even as you tell yourself that, you remember the pronged batons that security carries around regularly and withhold a shudder.

“I was just—” You wince as your voice cracks and turn your head to focus back on the balloon still hovering just out of reach, but the weight of Monty’s attention is as heavy as a weighted blanket. “I was trying to get that.”

Monty arches a brow over his—Bonnie’s—sunglasses and follows your gaze.

With a huff, Monty snaps out a hand, his height allowing him to snatch the string at the very base of the balloon, and with a sharp snap that shakes the plastic plants and sends a few leaves spiraling down to the sluggish water below, he pulls it free. You flinch as he shoves his fist towards you, that silly, grinning balloon bouncing to and fro.

You reach out to take it, palms sweating, only to freeze as his head jerks down and his optics zero in on your hand. Panic bubbles up in your chest and you recoil, attention pulled back to those deadly teeth.

“You’re hurt,” he says sharply.

Flexing your hand, you eye the bloodied scratch that runs across the back with a twist of your lips. It didn’t look deep, but it did sting like hell. A few specks of wood dot the wound. “It’s, uh, fine. Sorry.”

He stares at you, narrowing his eyes and setting his free hand on his hip. “You’re bleeding. There’s a first aid station nearby, c’mon.”

You stare at him blankly. Montgomery was not helpful. According to Rodney, he was a “million-dollar pain in the ass” who skipped out on scheduled practices and parties more often than not. And yet, here he was, ordering you to get fixed up after saving you from an impromptu dip in Fazbear-infected waters. He certainly didn’t sound happy about it, his programming likely forcing him to insist on taking care of an injury, but this whole situation was just weird.

“Hey!” he snaps after taking a few steps and you still haven’t moved. “What’s the hold up?”

You cradle your stinging hand and stammer out, “The, uh, the balloon—I should—"

He blinks at it, as if he’d forgotten he was still holding it. Then, quicker than you can think, he grips the balloon and punctures his own face with such swiftness and efficiency that it makes you squeak, a sound that’s swallowed by the loud POP. His eyes flicker towards you, but he doesn’t speak, only tosses the deflated husk into the nearest trash can. “Good? Now, let’s go.”

Unable to dredge up any excuses, you take a slow breath and then trail after him. The quicker you get to the first aid station, the sooner you can get back to work and be out of Monty’s synthetic hair.

As you walk, keeping a few feet behind, a question nags at you.

Where the fuck did he come from?

You would’ve heard him approach long before you saw him, the animatronics couldn’t be quiet if they tried thanks to the heavy endoskeleton beneath their casings, and you sure as hell hadn’t seen him anywhere while you cleaned. Goosebumps run up your arms at the thought of him hiding, watching, somehow being so close yet you hadn’t had a clue—

He leads you to Gator Grub where a STAFF bot blocks the door, wet floor bots in a ring around it as it mops. The bot lifts its head as Monty approaches but doesn’t react as he shoulders past it. As you go to step through, however, it beeps and shoos you back with its arms, pointing at the wet floor bots.

A growl reverberates from Monty’s chest and he uses his arm to shove the STAFF bot aside, throwing you an impatient look. The STAFF bot’s beeps become more insistent as you step over the streaks of dirty soap on the floor, and Monty gnashes his teeth, grumbling, “I’m right here you stupid hunk of—quit hollerin’!”

You watch the interaction with an uneasy frown, letting out a small sigh of relief when Monty finally lets the bot go and lopes in after you. You skitter back a couple steps as he fills the space normally meant for humans and STAFF bots.

Through a side door, you find yourself back in the hallway where the security office is. Was Nathan on duty tonight? He’d said most days it’d be him, so maybe not, but regardless you can’t help but hope maybe Nathan would just happen to step out of the office and save you from this forced escort farther into the back rooms.

The door remains firmly shut as you pass by, ignoring your pleading eyes to please please open.

“Quit draggin’ your feet, would ya?” Monty snaps over his shoulder.

You grit your teeth and bite back a retort, not wanting to annoy him further, but if he kept ordering you around like a child . . .

Finally, at the end of the hall there’s a room with a mess of pipes and a large control panel that you assume is for the stage set up in the course. Steam sprays from various corners of the room and one of the hanging lights lets out a shower of sparks every so often. Tucked between to massive pipes is a first aid station the size of a small changing room, complete with a red curtain that screeches as Monty yanks it to the side. He looks expectantly at you.

The inside of the station consists of a single plastic chair with Monty plastered on the seat and a slim red box sitting on a shelf beside what appear to be old cans of paint and a candy bar. You have to squeeze past Monty to get in the station, and you’re beginning to think he thrives off your discomfort because there’s no way he can’t read your body language, he was programmed to interact with kids, for God’s sake.

Popping open the kit, you paw through a few half-empty tubes of various ointments and gels until you find some packaged gauze. Band-aids would’ve been easier to deal with, but it appears that the contents were first come first serve, so you’ll just have to make do.

It’s a nerve-wracking process, bandaging up your hand while Monty waits. What should take only a few seconds feels like it takes an age, your hands unsteady as you weave the gauze around your palm. Every time you peek from the corner of your eye, he’s just watching. Not saying a goddamn word. Was this some kind of hazing? Were you overreacting? Sweat drips down your back and the air feels too warm and thick around you. Your stomach starts to churn. His optics follow your hand’s movements, and then, just as you tie off the gauze with a small knot, he grunts.

“That ain’t gonna hold.”

You jolt, head whipping up at his comment and back down to the gauze. You flex your hand experimentally, and sure enough it feels loose already. But you can’t stand being in this claustrophobic back room with the gator for one more second, so you find your courage to say, “It’ll do for now. I have a job to do.”

For a moment, you fear he’s going to insist on redoing it himself—you can’t imagine those clawed hands being gentle about it—but with a huff that’s all too human, he turns and heads for the door at the opposite side of the room and pushes it open, green ambient light washing through the gloom.

It’s all you can do not to sprint out of there, murmuring a small thanks to Monty for holding the door, and step back onto the course near hole 12. Instantly it feels easier to breathe, and you wipe sweat from your forehead with your uninjured hand. Checking your watch, you find only a few minutes have actually passed.

Monty’s heavy footfalls start behind you, and you whirl around on instinct, but he passes you without a second glance, free from his obligation. “Try not to break anything else in my course,” he says, and stalks off through the passageway.

Fuck it, you’re taking your break now.

[halfling-myth-lady]

I am one year late to making a post like this but oh well.

Long story short,about a year ago I made a Rewrite au of Miraculous Ladubug which I dubbed “MLB: Sky’s the limit”.This au was never really developed beyond a vague outlined till season three-ish and looking back there are several parts of it which I have since chosen to remove/modify.

I’m still in the process of changing some things,but now it’s a bit different.

One thing that has stayed the same,however is the Miraculous power system,which I am here to vent about today as more or less of a first part to the new and improved Sky’s limit au!

Rest of it under the cut:

General stuff:

I’ll be going miraculous by miraculous,and also will be only going over the main seven(as in the season 1 and 2 ones) and will briefly skim over the zodiac one(both due to relatively minor changes and spoilers).

Speaking of,each of the main seven get an elemental power!I’ll be going through these as I go along but the gist is that once you put on and use one of these miraculous,there’s an elemental power that sticks with you even after you de transform and/or get it taken away from you.

Not every miraculous will get the same “after you use this power you will de transform” time,mostly to modifications to said powers.

No person holding a miraculous can be akumatized.main seven or otherwise.

Not every miraculous needs to be broken to harm the user.this will become apparent later on.

I am just going to put this right here but: Nathaniel,I am so sorry.

And also Alix.and Marc.

These three have nothing to do with the power system but they go through so much in the au that I might as well apologize now.also most of their problems have to do with the goat miraculous.soooo-

And that’s it for the general stuff.onto the rest:

Ladybug:

power is Air, meaning the user can use winds to:throw their enemy off balance.propel themselves high,throw their enemy into the air,even fly if skilled enough.

The holder now has a bag at their disposal,which is used to summon lucky charm.if the bag isn’t present,then lucky charm cannot be summoned.

Cannot purify Akumas.

Cannot do miraculous ladybug(or the fixing spell)without chat noir.

Timer after using lucky charm is now 15 minutes.

Black cat:

The power of lighting.or just electricity.allows the holder to:travel through electric energy,create electric energy.

Is the one to purify Akumas.

Helps Ladybug do the fixing spell.

Fox:

The power of fire,which should be pretty obvious.

Near complete overhaul no.1

Weapon is no longer a flute,it’s now a second necklace (which doubles as a whip) of beads which can each turn into an illusion.

There are exactly ten beads,meaning the holder has the ability to make ten illusions.

After the seventh illusion a timer for 30 minutes is set.

All illusions are tangible,but will not last for more than 15-20 minutes.

This means that once enough(but not all) beads are wasted the holder can make a temporary illusion to make it long enough to be practical again.

Turtle:

The power of water,which allows the holder to:control water,freeze and control ice(?).

Stays mostly the same outside of that,might update shelter but don’t have any ideas on how to do that.

Bee:

The power of earth.or plants.i haven’t decided which one.

That spiner thing is replaced by an actual spirit that resides inside the miraculous.

It takes the form of a kind of bee drone which Chloe dubbed “Beatrix”

Because of this pollen and trixx have beef.wont explain how tho.

Butterfly:

The power of light,allows the holder to:create a ball of light or cause a blinding flash go distract their opponent.

That’s it.

Peacock:

The power of shadows,allows the holder to;hide inside others shadow and obscure themselves in shadows to hide.

The feathers in the fan can double as throwing knives.

All those other ones:

The bunny miraculous harms any who use burrow with exhaustion,sickness,and eventually death.

Might overhaul the pig and buffalo.

Added some stuff to the goat miraculous but that’s for later~

Completely changed the rooster’s powers but once again that’s for later.

Holders of the rooster can be completely beheaded and not die until they de transform.dont worry this (probably) won’t come up.(or it will if I’ve decided Marc hasn’t met the trauma quota,tho the goat thing probably will on its own)

The goat does not have a weapon.they need to draw up what they need and can use genesis an unlimited amount of times.(but can’t stay transformed for more than seven hours)

[smallraindrops-blog]

The Eros of May

WMFTD!Y/N x Hypnos

(Day 10)

Wordcount: 270

Summary: Told in snapshots. There is a beautiful man with sleepy golden eyes, warm skin kissed by the sun and the lingering days of spring.

Warnings: no beta

notes: a writing challenge for myself, I took two different challenges and mashed them together. Credit to this post and this post and their creator for making these challenges.

To find the rest, use ‘The eros of may’ tag please.

Farmer’s market 

It seemed like everyone knew Hypnos and Hypnos knew them back just as well. Two older ladies batted at his arm as he playfully flirted with them in hopes of cheaper honey. 

You just studied the table, filled with sunlit honey jars with cute hand drawn bees on the lids. You shifted bags’ handles on your shoulders, full of stuff Hypnos brought. You were more than happy to have the job of the pack mule. This busy and colorful market was unlike anything you knew.

All three of them glanced at you and you flashed them your most charming smile, only for the women to break into girlish, sweet giggles and whisper at Hypnos, the words too quick to follow.

Whatever they said made Hypnos tossed his head back in laughter, lovely in his unhidden joy and your eyes locked onto the sight. There had been a handful of kisses, lingering touches on unexposed skin and every night you went to bed alone, tormented by faint dreams of flowing curls and a teasing smile.

As Hypnos and you walked off the successfully won honey, Hypnos reached up and pitched your cheek.

”I might keep you.” His eyes, the same gold as honey, gleamed. His smile was big and perfect. “You are very good for my poor wallet.”

You scoffed, something warm blooming in your chest at his words but before you could come up with a reply, a shop caught Hypnos’ attention. Dozens of shirts, all with horrible food based puns. 

Heedless of the foot traffic, Hypnos rushed over, calling for you to follow him.

He didn’t need to, you already were.